Lamentation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 3)

by March McCarron

  The sound of a nearby door opening caused them to spring apart. Chae-Na’s breath came in uneven gasps, and a rush of guilt surged through her. She could hardly believe what she had just done. It seemed so unlike herself that, even though she could feel a slight swelling in her lips, she half-doubted that it had happened at all.

  “Go,” she said to him, and then she spun on her heel and hurried to the door without a backwards glance. She could not moderate her pace as she should; the tattoo of her intemperate heart compelled her to move quickly.

  She reached her room without once seeing her surroundings or noting her path, and she slipped within. She knew she could only take a moment, as Jo-Kwan would be expecting her. But if she did not take a few seconds to regain her self-possession, her brother would notice.

  She pressed her back to the door, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing. As she counted down from ten to one, her pulse slowed to its usual rhythm.

  It was wrong, she told herself. But I shan’t do it again, we were not seen, and he will say nothing. All will be well. The last sounded a lie, even in her own mind. But there was nothing for it.

  With one final rallying inhale, she left the retreat of her bedroom and wended up the hallway towards Jo-Kwan’s study. She made a concerted effort to walk calmly, to knock only lightly upon the door.

  “Come,” her brother’s voice called.

  Chae-Na slipped inside and found Jo-Kwan once again bent over a desk. His leather-bound journal sat open before him. The philosophy and history books were all now closed and stacked, rather than sprawling across the surface of his desk.

  “Oh, good,” he said. “I had worried you’d forgotten me. We don’t have much time, I’m afraid. Ko-Jin left a little while ago to meet the Pauper’s Men at the gate.”

  Chae-Na’s face remained smooth. Though she thought they had more time than Jo-Kwan anticipated, given that she had delayed his general’s errand by some minutes. “And what did you want to discuss?”

  Jo-Kwan flipped back to the first page of his journal and then slid the small volume to her. Before she could reach for it, however, he set a second, more alarming object, before her. A ring. She gazed at it with an ill feeling in her stomach. “My plans. But first, Melerre had this sent up for you. You should be seen wearing it.”

  Chae-Na’s hand turned heavy as she reached out for the diamond. The ring slid onto her finger, cold as a shackle. She stared down at that glinting bit of brightness, her mind blank. It had been a very strange afternoon.

  “Chae-Na,” Jo-Kwan began, his voice full of concern. “I’m sorry. I know…”

  She shook her head, blinked, and sniffed. “No. Do not apologize. It is what it is, and you know as well as I how that feels. Please, tell me of your plans.”

  “You aren’t going to like those either, I’m afraid. Open to the first page.”

  Chae-Na scanned his handwritten notes. She frowned and read again, hoping that she was misunderstanding what he had written. “A two-tier monarchy? You mean such as ancient Chasku had?”

  “Yes. Two rulers, one for the gentry and one to represent those who do not own land.”

  Chae-Na could not keep the horror from her face. “Jo-Kwan, this is insane. This criminal has been calling himself king of the paupers for decades, and you want to make the title official? Hand him a crown?”

  “He has already fashioned his own authority from nothing. The poor look to him; he is their king already. We are on the brink of social upheaval, surely you can see that. But with the king of paupers working with me rather than against me…”

  “And should the two of you come to an impasse on an important matter of state, and are unable to agree upon a course of action, what then?”

  He gave an unconcerned shrug. “Ineffective leaders may be legally ousted and replaced, which should encourage compromise.”

  Chae-Na sensed a greater shock to come, and so asked with hesitance, “Ousted how?”

  “By a vote, and then an election. There is a reason that Chasku flourished during the golden century, when such a government was in place. It is a superior system.”

  “And do you expect the aristocracy—Veldon—to support such a ludicrous plan?”

  “Oh, yes, I should think he would be most keen. He would have a path to the throne himself, if elections were possible. I should not be surprised if he were to end up with the crown eventually, in truth.”

  Chae-Na fiddled with the ring on her finger. “And that prospect does not trouble you?” She could not help but contemplate such an outcome from a selfish perspective: if Veldon were king, then she would not be royalty. She would be nothing, and free.

  But no. She would doubtless be married well before such a time came. The city needed soldiers now, and the contract had been signed. Three days.

  “And if the Pauper’s King accepts your offer, slits your throat, and takes both crowns?”

  “I do not think that likely.”

  “Your optimism—it may get you killed, and if not it will certainly be the death of the nation.”

  He glanced up at her with glittering eyes. “I am optimistic it will be otherwise.” He grinned at her scowl and stood. “Peace, sister.” He shook his head at her affectionately. “I hear you, I hear your concern, and I respect your opinion. But I must do right where I see it.”

  “But—”

  “Can you not see the irony in your argument? You believe I am wrong—”

  “You are wrong.”

  “You believe that I should lead this nation, and yet you disagree with my basic principles. And so either I am unfit because you are correct, or I am unfit because I am correct. Either way, I am right.”

  “You believe yourself unfit for the crown?” she asked, baffled. He would be ten times the king their father had been.

  “I believe the crown unfit for the nation.”

  The door to the king’s private office swung wide, without knock or announcement, and Ko-Jin entered.

  Chae-Na turned her gaze to the window, not able to meet his eye yet. What might she find in those depths? There seemed no possibility that would not pain her.

  “We’re ready, Highness.”

  “Jo-Kwan,” Chae-Na said. She reached across the desk and grabbed his hand, her look direct, pleading. How could a person whom she loved and respected so well be so obtuse? “Please reconsider.” He shook his head, but patted her hand. “Then be careful, at least.”

  “That, I can promise.”

  When the door clicked shut behind them, Chae-Na sighed and roamed to the sofa, where she collapsed with an ill-bred grunt. She supposed she should not feel so blindsided; Jo-Kwan had never been one to follow the set path. He questioned everything, and he allowed his compassionate heart too much authority over cold reason. Qualities which made him an excellent brother, son, and friend, but perhaps not an excellent king.

  Chae-Na gazed down at the shifting block of sunshine on the carpet, and reflected that, for the first time in her life, she could not picture the future.

  It seemed that everything was crumbling around her, and she could not decide whether she would rather hold fast to what had been, or let it all go.

  Chapter Ten

  Ko-Jin’s gaze swept the hall for motion, for any unexpected alteration or threat. Nothing appeared out of place, but the golden light from the setting sun cast a glimmer upon all the gilded ornaments on the walls, an effect that distracted the eye. He kept his hand on the hilt of Treeblade and remained a deliberate half-pace behind Jo-Kwan.

  Maintaining this level of vigilance was proving a greater test to his mental discipline than usual; it would be all too easy to let his thoughts drift to more self-interested matters. But the untangling of that afternoon’s event would have to wait.

  Marching at his side, the king appeared withdrawn. He clutched a small leather diary to his chest, like a shield against his heart.

  “You’re sure about this?” Ko-Jin asked.

  Jo-Kwan had a singular expres
sion stamped upon his features—a certain contented calmness. “I am,” he said.

  “Can I not persuade you to allow me in the room, at least? Based on Arlow’s impression of the man, I don’t believe he means you harm, but you can never be too careful…”

  Jo-Kwan began shaking his head before Ko-Jin had finished speaking. “It is important to open negotiations with a measure of trust. He is putting himself at greater risk than I; he must wonder if I do not mean to lure him to an arrest.”

  Ko-Jin heard the rapid clip of approaching feet from around the far corner. He braced himself, hand tightening on his pommel, until a figure in Cosanta robes glided into view.

  “There you are,” Britt said with a glower. “I’ve been looking for you. Chisanta patrols have been increased for the evening, as you asked—”

  “Is that really necessary?” the king asked Ko-Jin.

  He shrugged. “Probably not, but Quade has been targeting the Pauper’s Men. It seemed wise to add extra protection while they’re in the building.” He swiveled his focus back to Britt. “Thank you. Be sure to have them circulating the entire palace, but pay special attention to the servants’ quarters on the ground floor.”

  Her expression betrayed nothing. “Why?”

  “No one would expect the king to conduct an important meeting in the palace steward’s office. Better not to be exactly where Quade would anticipate, don’t you think?”

  She quirked a sandy brow in appreciation of this plan, but soon regained her usual no-nonsense demeanor. “I will see to it,” she said, then set off down the hall at a trot.

  During this conversation, Jo-Kwan had wandered to the nearest window. He gazed through the panes, leaning his forearms on the sill. “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason, Ko-Jin?”

  The evening had been painted a violent shade of orange. Down on the palace grounds a group of new recruits were sparring in pairs with the Elver swordsmen. Zarra herself paced between the groups, monstrous hound at her side.

  “No.” He watched as Zarra pointed to the ground, and one of her new students dropped down to the snow for push-ups. Ko-Jin smiled. “Or, maybe. I don’t know. Depends when you ask me.”

  “Today?”

  He thought of a recent choice he had made, hidden behind a snow-crusted hedgerow. “I believe that everything that happens has a consequence.”

  Jo-Kwan huffed a short laugh through his nose. “That’s not a belief, General. It’s a simple fact.”

  “I’m a simple man.”

  Jo-Kwan shook his head, as if he did not believe this assertion, and then pushed away from the window. They descended the main stairway side by side. The entrance hall was lined with palace guards, who all stood a bit straighter upon Jo-Kwan’s appearance.

  Ko-Jin swept his attention to and fro, detecting nothing out of the ordinary as they pressed on. He did not truly believe the Pauper’s King a danger to them. He’d had only one brief interaction with the famed criminal king, but had formed the strong impression that the man was nothing worse than pragmatic.

  They entered the antechamber of the steward’s office, a small room that smelt strongly of silver polish.

  “Hey, mate,” Arlow said, not troubling to rise from his chair. Ko-Jin grinned and winked at his brother, then swiveled his attention to the others in the room. The Pauper’s King’s sister, Mae, sat poised on the chair beside Arlow, as if ready to spring to her feet at any moment. She was chewing on a chunk of her short, dirty-blonde hair. She looked as if she were recovering from an illness.

  Across from her, a tall man with a red beard leaned against the wall. He nodded to the king and to Ko-Jin. That not one of them had bowed seemed a purposeful omission of formality, but Jo-Kwan appeared not to mind.

  Ko-Jin opened the door to the inner office and led the way into the larger room, which was lit only by golden sunlight streaming through the far window. The Pauper’s King lounged at the steward’s desk, his feet crossed and propped up on the oaken surface. The soles of his shoes were visible before his face. A cigar trailed sweet smoke in a column, up to the vaulted ceiling.

  Ko-Jin looked to the king, uncertain how he would respond in the face of such blatant insult. He found his friend smiling and unprovoked.

  Jo-Kwan, a vision of insouciance, strolled across the Chaskuan rug and took a seat on the window’s ledge, rather than seating himself in the chair opposite the desk. He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “Shoes on the table. My mother would have boxed my ears.”

  The Pauper’s King grinned around his cigar and exhaled. “Mine too.” He swung his feet back to the ground and leaned forward in his seat. Reaching into his vest pocket, he produced a second cigar. Jo-Kwan accepted this offering with a slight bow of the head. “And how about yourself, General?” Linton asked. “Would your mother take issue with shoes on the table? Surely this must be a universal.”

  Ko-Jin, feeling as though he had missed something, shrugged. “We don’t wear shoes indoors in Chasku. So, yes, shoes on the furniture would be a pretty big no-go.” He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “I’ll need to search you once again, Linton. Precautions, you understand.”

  The man unfolded himself, apparently at his leisure, and extended his arms. The cigar remained clamped between his teeth. Ko-Jin patted the man down, beginning at the wrists and working his way along the torso and legs. He found nothing more insidious than a pocket watch.

  After a gesture of approval, Linton took his seat once more. Ko-Jin conducted a quick sweep of the office, but everything was just as it had been upon his last inspection.

  “Peace, Ko-Jin,” Jo-Kwan said. Framed in the window, haloed in light, he looked like a spirit in a children’s book. “I’ll call if I have need of you.”

  Ko-Jin nodded once. “I’ll be right outside, then.”

  He turned from the room and clicked the door shut behind him. He took up his place as guard, with his back to the door. Within, he could just barely hear the hum of their voices.

  In the outer office, Arlow and his two companions seemed to be having a silent battle of some kind. The two men took it in turns to try and catch the eye of Linton’s sister, who ignored them both. Ko-Jin could easily perceive the tension that hung between the three of them, something both brittle and inimical. He might’ve suspected some sort of lovers’ triangle at work, but this woman was plainly not Arlow’s type.

  Though, he thought, people can change. They could be drawn to those unlike themselves.

  With his ears alert for any concerning sound, Ko-Jin allowed his mind to roam. He licked his lips several times, dreamily. With his thoughts occupied, he took little notice of the clock.

  “Are you still feeling unwell, Mae?” the bearded man asked in a soft voice. “Do you need anything? Tea?”

  The woman shook her head, her face tipped towards the ground.

  “Still?” Arlow asked. Neither of his companions replied.

  Ko-Jin could not help but think of another woman who had so recently refused to meet a curious gaze. Why had Chae-Na not even turned her head when he came to collect Jo-Kwan? Was she angry with him? Had he gone too far, overstepped his bounds? He couldn’t decide if he should apologize. Truthfully, he was not regretful—it had felt so very right at the time, and did not seem less so for the passing minutes. That was, unless he had wounded her in some way, or had misread her wishes…

  “Spirits, it’s a preliminary meeting. How long are they to keep at it?” Arlow expounded, as if he had been trying for patience and at last buckled.

  “It’ll probably be a while,” Mae said. “Linton’s never hasty. He’ll want to take the king’s measure.”

  Her prediction proved true. Time continued to pass slowly as the shadows stretched across the floor. Ko-Jin thought that the two men within must be taking pains not to be overheard; the sound of their voices had faded. If Jo-Kwan had not been so insistent that they demonstrate good faith, Ko-Jin might have cracked the door open to check on them. As it was
, he merely shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and trusted that the king would call for him if he were needed.

  Arlow pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and began shuffling in an increasingly showy manner, making the cards seem to fly between his hands. He spent some time performing the same trick again and again—shuffling, cutting the deck, and then flipping over the top card. Each time he revealed the same face, the queen of hearts, and he glanced sideways at Mae to judge if she were watching. She was not.

  Ko-Jin observed this with a sad ache in his chest. Rinny had taught them that trick, years ago. He wondered if Arlow remembered, or if he was too caught up in his own little drama to recall their poor dead friend.

  “Pick a card,” Arlow finally demanded, foisting them in front of Mae’s eyes.

  She uttered a sigh and glanced sideways at him.

  “Come on,” he prompted, leveling her with his Arlow-est of smiles. “Take pity on me. I’m terribly bored.”

  With a roll of the eyes she reached out to take one.

  “No, not that one,” he said.

  “You said pick,” Mae said. “I pick that one.”

  “No, no, pick this one.”

  “Think you’re a bit confused on the notion of pickin’,” she answered coldly. Arlow slumped back in his chair and put the cards away. His mouth twisted.

  Ko-Jin realized that it had been some time since he’d heard any noise from within the office—movement or speech. The slight hum of their voices had never picked up again. Now, and for some time, all within was quiet. Again, he was tempted to open the door and check on the king, but he still did not wish to overstep.

  However, he could no longer set aside his concern. The meeting wasn’t intended to go on this long. As Arlow had said, it was a preliminary conference only. They were not likely to outline an entire new system of governance in a single evening…