by CS Sealey
“Quiet, woman!” Varren moved to strike her across the face but King Samian lunged forward and caught his arm. He shook his head and Varren reluctantly withdrew. The king was still stunned, and when he spoke, his voice sounded unsteady.
“Archis…leave her.”
“You are the king of the Ayons?” Angora asked. “You are the one who burned my island to the ground? There are no words in any tongue that can voice my hatred of you!”
Lhunannon stepped forward, his eyes questioning. “King Samian, sir – ”
The king shook his head firmly. “Lhunannon, Archis, leave us.” He motioned to his two advisers and Lhunannon left without a word. Varren, however, glanced at the king with incredulity. Samian noticed and they locked gazes for a moment, before Varren clenched his jaw and made his way to the door.
“And release our guest, Archis,” the king ordered. “Show her some hospitality.”
The sorcerer paused in the doorway, sighed, flicked his hand unceremoniously and shut the door with a loud bang. King Samian shook his head before turning back to Angora, a tentative smile forming on his lips. Angora, finding herself no longer a captive of Varren’s spell, gathered her aching limbs up to her chest and fixed the king of the Ayons with eyes full with anger.
“It is you, isn’t it?” Samian asked eagerly. “Lalean! You go by the name Angora now, but I would know that face anywhere!”
“Stay away from me, you monster!” Angora cried. “Why did you lie to me? I trusted you!”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you…but you must understand why.”
“Yes, to save your hide!”
“Of course, I was afraid! I was stranded on an unfamiliar island without a friend in all the world!” the king exclaimed. “You said yourself that, had I been discovered, your father would have had me killed!”
Samian sat down on the end of her bed and reached out for her hand. Angora recoiled, feeling the skin on her back around the wound stretch painfully.
“Keep away from me!”
“But, Lalean – ”
“Do not call me that! Lalean is dead!” she cried. “How could you lie to me for so long? I told you everything!”
“I wanted to tell you the truth so many times but would you really have given me the chance to explain? I couldn’t risk losing you.”
“Perhaps not when you needed me, but you let your army march south and burn every island off the coast! You could risk to lose me then, could you not?”
“No!” Samian said defiantly. “That was my father. I had nothing to do with the southern campaign.”
“Then you should have done something to stop him!”
“How could I? He was ill, mad. He wanted to see the south burn!”
“And you follow in his footsteps. You disgust me.”
“I was forced into this war,” Samian insisted. “I asked for Queen Sorcha’s hand in marriage to end the conflict, but she responded by building up forces on her northern border! Was I to let them march up to the gates of Delseroy without raising a single sword?”
“You are despicable!”
“You say that when it was Sorcha who sent her mages north to attack our soldiers!”
“You would have done the same!”
“Why are you defending them? And how is it that you are fighting for the Ronnesians anyway? You didn’t care for the mainland when I knew you.”
“I care about innocent lives, not squabbles over land! I cannot let others suffer. Those who are trapped in this stupid never-ending war between your empires have no defense against an army as strong as yours.”
“Then you claim to be neutral?”
“I have no allegiances. Had I been born with knowledge of my gift, I never would have left Teronia! I would have protected them from you, from anyone who would have dared attack us!”
“I told you, it was my father who ordered the invasion! I would never have harmed Teronia. How can you doubt my affection for you and that island?” the king asked. “I owe you and your mother my life! Don’t you remember the long nights we spent together on top of Alenta Mora? You see, I have not forgotten its name.”
He was now only inches from her and his eyes were wide and fervent. His closeness made her skin crawl and she shuffled away.
“Stop it!”
“There hasn’t been a single day that I haven’t thought of you.”
“You…” Angora said through clenched teeth. “I should kill you!”
“But you won’t, will you? You still feel the fire, our connection.”
“I feel nothing!”
“Do you remember what I told you that last day?” the king asked. “Those words I whispered in your ear?”
“Of course I do,” she replied, her voice shaking with anger, “but I bet you never looked back once you paddled past the breakers.”
“Four years ago, when I was pronounced king, the first thing I did was withdraw the armies from campaign. My advisers and military commanders were livid. They told me we could have pushed on to Te’Roek and a swift victory, but I didn’t listen. All I could think about was Teronia – you. I asked for reports of all the places my father had ordered to be attacked, and the islands had not escaped his madness. I was devastated! I returned to Teronia as soon as I could get away and I found the forests and villages burnt. I thought you had perished along with all your people when I saw the island so damaged.”
Samian rested a hand on Angora’s shoulder and looked into her eyes. “I didn’t let you down,” he continued. “I returned just as I said I would, but I couldn’t bring you back with me because…well, you weren’t there. I searched the entire island for days and called and called, but could not find a single soul.”
Angora began to cry. After her mother had died, she had hoped Sam would come and take her away from the pain and sorrow of her lonely existence. She had waited many long months, hoping and praying, but eventually, she had decided that he was never going to return. They must have missed each other by a matter of days. If she had waited, she could have had the future she had so often dreamed about. But was that simply her own wishful thinking? Would she instead have been murdered by the invading force, just like all the others? But if King Samian had returned for her and taken her to his home in Delseroy, she would have found out who he really was. She had been only sixteen, so vulnerable and naive. Would she have forgiven him?
“I still love you, Lalean…” The king leaned in and kissed her forehead. Angora pushed him away, wiping her eyes.
“Stay away from me!” She felt utterly betrayed. Everything she had known about her dearest friend was false. Sam had not been an islander at all but a mainlander and an Ayon prince, everything she had been taught to fear and despise.
“Do you know what pain I’ve had to endure all this time? The Spirits must have heard my prayers and have delivered you to me!”
“I was brought here by your servant so he could kill me. Is that what you prayed for?”
“You’re here, that’s all that matters! This cannot be a coincidence. Don’t you understand, Lalean? My father is dead, I have no one to answer to!” He took her hand in his own and looked at her almost feverishly. His eyes sparkled and his mouth curled into a smile that had not changed in four long years. “Queen Sorcha rejected my proposal. The Spirits must have known you would come to me, they must have known we would be reunited!”
“I am on death row,” she reminded him, pulling her hand from his grasp and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Tomorrow, no doubt, I shall be dead, or begging for death at the hands of your executioner.”
“I can give you a full pardon.”
“Your advisers want me strung up in front of the city, I doubt they will let me go!”
“I won’t let them touch you.”
Angora looked down at him. He was crouched by the bed, his arms outstretched. In that moment, she recalled the first time she had seen him, clinging to a jagged rock on the coast of Teronia, merciless waves crashing
around him. He had begged for her help and she had given it, risking her own life for a stranger in the surging seas. She saw the same look in his eyes, as though his life depended upon her. But he was not her Sam any more. In fact, he never had been. He had been weaving lies around her from the moment his feet had touched Teronian sand.
“How do I know what you are capable of? The Sam I remember was a lie, the fantasy of a trusting child! And you broke that trust.”
He bowed his head, crestfallen, and turned to the window. He ran his hands over his short hair.
Angora glanced at her cell door. Could she risk running for it? She knew nothing of what lay beyond. She might be on the top floor of a well-guarded tower. Varren could be around the next corner. Seeing her out of her cell, the sorcerer would strike her down without a moment’s hesitation.
Samian turned back from the window and his eyes twinkled fiercely again with unmasked excitement.
“Become my wife and we can forge an alliance with all the islands and neutral countries in the Kalladean. I will promise them safety in the war should the Ronnesians or any other force threaten them. I will guard their harbors and trading routes from piracy, and welcome their travelers and merchants across my empire. We can scour Teronia and the surrounding islands to find your surviving people and give them whatever support they require in rebuilding their lives. This I promise, Angora, upon my honor, should you consent to be my wife.”
Angora was about to open her mouth to protest, but stopped. Securing the defense of every man, woman and child across the Kalladean…What if her people had survived after all? It was only her own freedom, she told herself, and she had survived being imprisoned in Te’Roek for three years. Surely marriage to a man she had once loved could be no worse, even if he was the king of the Ayons. She would be comfortable as his wife and have no small amount of influence over him and his policies.
Angora looked at him, no longer the young man she had known. Yes, his face was the same but his childish spark and character had been corrupted by the influence of power and, no doubt, his advisers. Regardless, she could not help but hope that something of her Sam was left. If what he had told her was true – that he had not been able to stop his father from burning the islands and that he had pulled the armies back the moment he had become king – could it be that he was everything she remembered?
“Promise me that the neutral islands will not be harmed or forced into an alliance for your own benefit.”
“I promise.”
“If war must be fought, then it will be done fairly, soldier to soldier. Varren and the others will not be involved in any normal battle.”
“If the Ronnesians will also abide by this rule, then I will give the order,” Samian said sincerely.
“And the trading – ”
“The pirates and barbarians will be dealt with to ensure safer trading routes, you have my word, and any Teronian who requires aid will have it. I will commission builders to help them rebuild their villages, provide them a payment of free-traded goods every year, if you wish it – anything.”
Angora thought his eyes were glistening with tears, though it could have been merely a trick of the light.
“This is not exactly how I imagined proposing to you, but…Lalean, Angora, do you have an answer for me? Will you be my wife and queen?”
Angora sighed, then nodded. “On the terms you have proposed, I accept.”
*
Moments later, the king commanded a servant to fetch the best healer in the city to tend to her wounds. “And be careful with her!” he said when the man opened his box of tools and ointments. “This is your future queen.”
Samian sat with her as the healer cleaned and stitched her lacerations, offering her his handkerchief when her eyes began to water. Finally, the man wound a bandage around her middle, apologized for the pain he had caused and left. Angora pulled up her torn dress and tied it loosely at her back before turning to her betrothed.
“Come,” the king said. “Let’s get you out of those rags and this room.”
She was still very weak and he aided her steps with caution and great care. Her cell, she discovered, had been one of a dozen situated in the defensive wall that encircled Delseroy castle. Most were used for storing supplies for the gate wardens but some had been set aside for interrogations and holding cells. They emerged into a grand courtyard and she looked up at the great structure. The sight of the castle took her breath away. It was magnificent and the warm afternoon sun made it all the more resplendent. A series of intricate gardens encircled the citadel and the air was rich with the scent of grass and damp earth.
As they approached the castle doors, the two armored wardens bowed and offered their assistance, but Samian assured them he could manage with his guest. Her feet bare, Angora walked slowly and unsteadily on the king’s arm through the wide doorway and across the entrance hall. They paused briefly as Samian pointed out the portraits of his ancestors.
They continued up several flights of stairs, along a crimson-carpeted corridor and, finally, into the rooms that were now her own. There, Samian eased her carefully onto a large, comfortable sofa and sent a servant to the kitchens to find her something to eat. As they waited, he talked excitedly about the future that lay ahead and of the many years of happiness that would follow their sorrowful years of separation, and Angora found herself smiling slightly. His enthusiasm was contagious.
“Just think!” he exclaimed. “No one can stand in our way now! We can make our own decisions, not care what anybody else thinks!”
“But how long will it be, do you think, before your servants find fault with this arrangement?” Angora asked. “An hour? Two, perhaps?”
“They are not my servants, not all of them, but they are as loyal as any subject.”
“How do you keep them all here if they are not bound to your service?”
“Money, prospects and status,” Samian said, smiling. “My father made Archis a lord, which was a very good decision. He is my most trusted adviser and, unlike many other men of court, you won’t catch him slipping off into the city at night to flash his coins in the brothels or spend them in the taverns until he can no longer walk. He is dedicated to his work and he always speaks his mind. That kind of honesty is rare at court.”
“Do you suppose their loyalty would falter if you did not pay them?”
Samian laughed. “Not an inch! How are they supposed to live without some sort of income? Didn’t Queen Sorcha pay you for your service?”
“No,” Angora admitted. “We were granted money for personal expenses only. She supplied our clothes, our food and drink, everything necessary to survive, but we were not paid in the usual sense.”
The king shook his head. “You were right to leave them, Angora. It sounds as though they regarded you as little more than a slave.”
She nodded grimly, remembering the brief period when she had been a slave before Rasmus rescued her. Her hand absently rose to her shoulder to where the brand had been seared into her skin.
“Do you know what Archis told me a few weeks ago?” Samian asked. When she shook her head, he continued: “Sorcha may well have ordered the assassination of General Carter.”
“Carter is dead?” Angora asked, astonished.
“You know nothing of it?”
“I left the queen’s service months ago,” Angora said, “and the farmsteads and villages I stayed at during that time very rarely received news from the capital. What happened?”
“Archis found his body. Our general was assassinated by a whore, no less. However, she had been acting for another. Luckily, with the help of Galenros, Archis was able to find and interrogate the client.”
“And?”
“He confessed that Mayor Challan himself had hired him. Do you know what that means?”
“Challan did not like Carter?” Angora asked, shrugging.
“Undoubtedly, that is true! But when an order comes from the mayor, it usually comes attached with a royal s
eal. Now, Archis has since told me that Challan denies that Sorcha had anything to do with it, but he could be lying. What despicable behavior by the Ronnesians! So what do you think of them now?”
Angora stared back blankly. She was not ready to admit that Queen Sorcha would resort to such measures. However, there was something to the story that sounded credible; after all, Tiderius had offered to come north and kill King Samian. And Rasmus had once told her that if a pack of wolves was terrorizing a village, normally the death of the dominant male or female deterred the creatures from returning. Had the death of General Carter been the queen’s attempt at preventing the war?
“It is a possibility, I suppose,” Angora said. “But if the queen or one of the others issued that order, they kept the decision from me.”
CHAPTER 32
When she woke the next day, Angora lay blissfully unaware of where she was or what had happened. The warm sun was streaming into the room and a fresh breeze floated through the open window, heavy with the scent of damp earth and vegetation. But then she noticed how soft the bed was and flung open her eyes. The room was spacious and she could see the tops of distant roofs through the window. She was not in one of the farmsteads now.
She threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the large bed. She put her bare feet on the soft rug and stood a little shakily. The bedroom was fully furnished, with gossamer drapes decorating the bed, a wardrobe that was already full of colorful dresses, cloaks and shoes, and drawers full of stockings, undergarments and accessories. A box of expensive-looking jewelry sat on the dresser, bright flowers stood in vases on the bedside table and a thick crimson rug covered most of the floor. It was daunting. She had only ventured into Queen Sorcha’s private chambers a couple of times when summoned and this room was equally rich.
She pulled a dark blue dress from the wardrobe and laid it across the crumpled sheets of her bed. The neckline was a wide V-shape, exposing more of the shoulders but less of the chest than the Te’Roek style. In Kirofirth, the women of the court had worn tight bodices to accentuate their figures, leaving little to the imagination. Their dresses had been fashioned with squared neck lines to expose as much bust as possible, without being considered improper. Angora had been in the queen’s service for little more than a week before she had refused to wear dresses in the Ronnesian style and had begged the queen to let her make her own clothes. The queen had begrudgingly agreed after Angora had threatened to turn up to their daily meetings in nothing but her skin.