Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  Frisha bit into the orb and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet, tart burst of flavor. “Oh! This is amazing.”

  Aplin shook his head. “Yes, but you should probably not eat too much. They are quite intoxicating.”

  Frisha glanced down at the purple and orange delight as it dribbled succulent juice onto the dirt floor. “The fruit is intoxicating?”

  Tieran grinned and plucked one for himself. He took a large bite and said, “Yes, the juice is like sweet wine. We do not even have to wait for them to ferment.”

  Frisha rolled her eyes and handed the fruit to the mage. “I should have known.”

  Tieran slapped Aplin on the shoulder and said, “He is a genius.”

  Aplin diverted his gaze. “I am only an apprentice.”

  “Well, you are far more knowledgeable and skilled than I,” Tieran said.

  “Oh, I doubt that, Lord Tieran. You have a significant talent.”

  “Technically, I am only an apprentice as well.”

  “Still, you are to be duke.”

  Tieran frowned. “A title I was not required to earn, and I have done nothing to deserve it.” He shook his head and lightened his tone. “I give credit where it is due.”

  Frisha gave him an incredulous look and said, “No, you usually don’t.”

  Tieran appeared surprised she would say such a thing, and Frisha was, too. He then turned to Aplin and said, “You—you have worked hard. My talent is raw, unrefined. This”—he gazed at the tree—“is a masterpiece.”

  Frisha glanced between the two men who were busy stroking each other’s egos. She smiled and said, “This is all great, but weren’t you trying to make food?”

  “Come now, Frisha. Surely you can see the benefits. Cael needs exports. We will be the only kingdom to supply this wine, and we can do it faster and easier than anyone else.”

  Frisha pursed her lips. “Yes, but they don’t know that.”

  Both men looked at her with uncertainty, not knowing if she was supporting or rejecting the idea.

  She said, “Look, if only we are producing the wine, but everyone wants it, then it becomes a delicacy. Delicacies are expensive. Less is more.”

  “Ah,” Tieran said. “I like the way you think. If we sell fewer bottles, the price grows higher.”

  “Exactly, but we have to be careful to maintain the proper balance. We sell only so much that people are willing to pay more to get their hands on them, but we must be careful not to drive the price so high that people lose interest. We will have to market it in such a way that the higher classes see it as a privilege to acquire but also so that their peers expect them to serve it at formal occasions.”

  Tieran chuckled. “I had no idea you were so adept at manipulating the nobility.”

  “Well, I am not an expert by any means, but I did listen to my father sometimes. He wanted to make sure I could run the businesses in case my future husband turned out to be inept. It’s just that … well, I wasn’t very interested, so I didn’t pay enough attention.”

  Tieran rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I can understand that.”

  Frisha turned to Aplin. “Thank you for showing us your work. It sounds like what you’ve done is not easy. You should be proud of yourself.”

  “Thank you, Lady Frisha. You are most welcome to come back anytime.”

  As they strolled through the freshly cultivated gardens, Tieran said, “What do you really think?”

  Frisha smiled ruefully. “I know little about plants. My home in Cheswick was in the city. We had a small herb garden, but mostly my mother and the maid took care of it. I think it did not require much maintenance.”

  A cool sea breeze, mixed with the scent of soil, fresh cut plants, and blooms, tugged at Tieran’s tunic and ruffled the green scarf Frisha wore somewhere on her person nearly every day.

  He said, “I try not to think of home often, but this place brings up old memories. We had many gardens on our estates. My mother enjoyed spending time in them, but she did not like getting her hands dirty. I had a private tutor in the talent for a while, but my father said it was beneath a duke to toil in the garden. We have servants for that, he would say.”

  “But, plants are your thing, aren’t they?”

  Tieran nodded. “Yes. My talent presented early. I was only twelve. I remember that, as a child, I always enjoyed spending time with my tutor in the garden. My father, however, spoke disparagingly of him. My father is so confident, so self-assured. He is the duke. People respect him. No one would dare contradict him.” He sucked in a sharp breath and said, “The last time I saw my tutor, I was fifteen. I said to him, If plants could grow coins, then your talent might be worth something. It was what my father had said to me the night before at dinner. My tutor refused to work with me after that, and now that I look back on it, I cannot say I blame him.”

  Frisha had no idea how to respond, so she said nothing. They ambled along the path toward the palace in awkward silence. Eventually, her uncontrollable tongue got the better of her. “You surprised me back there.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, you usually don’t show much appreciation for those of lower station.”

  “He is a mage,” said Tieran.

  “Yes, not nearly a duke,” she replied, “and he is only an apprentice.”

  “He has worked many more years on the talent than I. He has earned his place. What have I earned?”

  “What have you tried to earn?” she said. Tieran again looked at her as if she had lost her mind for saying such a thing. She smiled playfully. “Oh, I don’t really blame you. I can’t say that I’ve done anything worth mentioning.”

  “I am the heir of a dukedom. You are much younger … and a woman. You are not expected to do anything.”

  Frisha nodded. “I know, but should I not try because it is not expected? To be honest, I never even thought about it. I knew I would marry and have children. All of my friends were the same, except Tam, of course. But, now I know women who are mages. Yserria is a swordmaster! Even Reaylin has worked hard to become a warrior. During all the time they were training and learning, what was I doing? Dreaming about my future husband is all. Worrying over how terrible he might be, hoping for the best.”

  “Perhaps you might have done more, but you still have time. And … there is one very big difference between you and me.” He paused, and she with him. His gaze traced her face and then caught on the scarf. He started walking again and said, “You treat everyone well. You are always kind to them, and you are not afraid to speak on their behalf. Their stations in life do not seem to matter to you. You have done well with our task.”

  Frisha shook her head. “Rezkin put us both in charge, although I’m still not sure why he chose me.”

  “You are to be his queen,” Tieran said, and she knew he had seen her wince. “People feel comfortable working with you. More come to you with their problems than to me. People like you.”

  “I am sure they like you, too. They are probably just intimidated by you,” she said, her tone hopeful but not convincing.

  Tieran turned his gaze to the road. “I think Aplin likes you.” Frisha smiled, but he did not see since he was busy staring at the stones on the path, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

  “I like him, too,” she said. “He seems very nice.”

  Tieran shook his head. Without looking up, he said, “No, that is not what I meant.”

  Her cheeks heated, and Frisha suddenly found the path to be interesting as well. “Oh, I don’t think he thinks of me like that.”

  “No? I doubt he would ever say it. No one wants to upset the king; and besides, I cannot imagine you would give up a chance to be queen for a mage.”

  “I don’t want to be queen,” Frisha blurted.

  Tieran’s head came up, and he stopped. “You do not wish to marry Rezkin?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I was only referring to the part about being queen; but, well, I’m not sure about the other eithe
r.”

  Tieran looked astonished, and he did not bother to hide it. “You cannot be serious. I know Rezkin would do pretty much anything to make you happy.”

  Frisha nodded slowly. “Yes, but I’m beginning to think he does it because he thinks he has to for some reason.” She fingered her scarf and said, “He gave this to me when we first met. I thought it was a courting gift. Now that I know him better, I think he just didn’t want me to get cold.”

  Tieran furrowed his brow. “That is the point of a scarf.”

  Frisha huffed. “I know, but I don’t think he did it because he cared. I think it was just practical.”

  “I am not convinced, Frisha. He went to a lot of trouble to get the peerage—especially me—to accept you. You probably have no clue what he has done for you.”

  “No, I probably don’t, but you said he wants me to be happy. What if I am not happy with him?”

  Tieran was at a loss. “How can you not be happy with him? He is … everything. He can be everything. Whatever you want him to do, he can do it.”

  “Can he love me?”

  “What difference does it make? You were never guaranteed love. Nobles do not have the luxury of love. I will not have love.”

  She turned to stare across the bowl at the mountains beyond. “But we are no longer in Ashai. We are not bound by the rules of Ashaiian society. Rezkin makes the rules. Rezkin wants us to be happy.”

  Tieran spun, exasperated, and waved his arms as he spoke. His emotions began to erupt. “It is not so simple, Frisha. We are going back to Ashai. I have a responsibility to Wellinven. You will be married to Rezkin or whomever Marcum chooses. Rezkin will be king. Everything will return to normal.”

  “Do you really think that? We stand here, in a magical kingdom across the sea while war rages in Ashai. Do you really think anything will go back to normal?”

  “Yes! —It will! —It must!”

  His outburst was punctuated by a horn blast from the docks. Tieran took several deep breaths and then turned back toward the palace.

  “Tieran—”

  “What?”

  Catching up to him, she said, “You won’t tell him, will you?”

  He met her gaze. His look carried as much turmoil as she felt. “No. Surely it is only cold feet. It is normal. You will come to your senses.”

  The chill slid over Rezkin’s skin as soon as he had passed the corveua, and now that he was on the dock, he could feel it seeping deeper into his flesh and muscles. It was not the biting, frigid cold of winter, but rather the soothing, cool embrace of a pool on a warm summer day. He felt relaxed, like he had returned … home. He immediately checked the stone hanging from his neck, and it was still in place. After a quick test, he realized it was still protecting him from the worst of the calming effect.

  His people had come to greet the ship, as usual. Many prepared to mount a defense in case the peaceful arrival was a ruse and the ship had truly been captured by insurgents. Rezkin realized that in the several weeks he had been absent, they had been afforded plenty of time to plot against him. He furtively scanned the faces around him, careful not to give away any clues that he might suspect betrayal. For each individual, he calculated the odds that he or she might want to do him harm, and two of the greatest threats approached him first.

  Tieran bowed, and said, “King Rezkin, I am pleased that you have returned and appear to be well.”

  Rezkin studied Tieran. Did his cousin appear different from when he had left? He knew the display had been for the crowd’s benefit, but were the words sincere? He doubted it could be so simple. At Tieran’s side stood Frisha. She was wearing a dress, the loose skirt having enough fabric for her to easily hide a number of weapons. Was the green scarf over her head supposed to be a distraction? She smiled at him. Was it genuine? He thought he saw uncertainty in her gaze.

  “King Rezkin, I, too, am glad to see you,” she said as she performed a practiced curtsy.

  Rezkin glanced at Tieran. He knew the other nobles had been working with her on her speech and language. The greeting was more formal than she would normally have given him, and it did not sound sincere. The stone on his chest heated, and his head began to clear of a fog he had not realized was present. He blinked at the two, his cousin and his … betrothed? Again, he saw the uncertainty. He shook his head. It was apparent he was having another episode. He had nearly forgotten about them since he had not had one the entire time he had been gone from the island. It was a concerning revelation. His friends exchanged looks and shifted uncomfortably. He realized he had not yet greeted them, and everyone was waiting. He smiled.

  “Greetings, Cousin,” he said to Tieran. “Frisha, you look well. I trust all has been calm in my absence?”

  “Oh, yes,” Frisha said. “You will love the new programs we have implemented.”

  “You have implemented programs?” he said.

  Tieran donned a cocky grin. “My hybridization project has produced promising results, and Frisha has negotiated a warrior training program.”

  Rezkin looked to Frisha. “You started a warrior training program?”

  She lifted her chin and said, “What? You do not think I am capable? I recognize what you want for this kingdom, and I can help make it happen.”

  “Are you a part of this program?” he said.

  “I am … sort of. I am trying, anyway. Actually, everyone is required to attend basic lessons. There are incentives for reaching advanced levels.”

  “And who is teaching these lessons?”

  “That is being us,” said a booming voice that echoed through the warehouse to the dock.

  Just as the Eastern Mountains men approached, a black and brown fur ball shot past, scurrying between their legs.

  Tieran said, “You took your cat with you?”

  “No,” said Frisha. “I have been feeding his cat. Where did that one come from?”

  Gurrell and his men saluted Rezkin with a fist across the heart. “We teach the ways of the Eastern Mountains, a tribute from the Viergnacht Tribe to the people of our chieftain. Cael will be a great warrior kingdom!”

  Rezkin’s gazed passed over the two mountain men standing behind their leader and then came to rest on Gurrell. The man was a leader in his own right, and he had ample time while Rezkin was away to gain influence with the nobles and mages. He had obviously won over Frisha, somehow convincing her to allow him to train the people. What insidious betrayal was he planning?

  Kai stalked by leading Pride from the ship as he grumbled about the ornery beast. The horse chomped its teeth and snorted at the striker as if it could understand. A flick of its tail lashed Rezkin’s hand, jarring his thoughts from the murky fog that had silently invaded his mind. Inhaling sharply, he tilted his head to stretch the muscles tensing in his neck. He pushed the paranoid thoughts away, recognizing that Gurrell had never appeared to covet power.

  “Excellent,” he said. “The people of Cael are honored by your generous gift.”

  Gurrell and his men grunted in unison, a gruff, celebratory cheer. “If you are wanting to witness the training, we are meeting in the central square an hour after midday meal.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I have little time.”

  Frisha’s eyes widened as the others disembarked, each leading a horse or two. “You brought horses?”

  Brandt said, “Not just any horses. These are Gendishen reds. We stole them from the army.”

  “You did what?”

  Brandt grinned. “Not to worry, Frisha. They no longer needed them since they were all dead.”

  Malcius punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Brandt. Why would you tell her that?”

  Brandt looked at his friend. “You have completely lost the speck of humor you once had. Besides, she is going to hear the story. Not even you would keep it to yourself. We have war stories, Malcius. Real war stories.”

  Tieran said, “I thought you were going on a diplomatic mission to speak with the king.”

  Bra
ndt grinned. “We did, but we had to destroy a double cavalry patrol and a horde of drauglics to get there.”

  “Shut. Up. Brandt,” Malcius said. “If you want to tell war stories, you cannot tell the good parts first! You have ruined the story.”

  “You’re both idiots,” Yserria said as she passed.

  Tieran sputtered. “You are going to let her speak to you like that?”

  “You are welcome to try to make her stop,” Malcius grumbled.

  Tieran looked to his king. “Rezkin, are you going to do something about this? We have a hierarchy for a reason.”

  Rezkin watched the redheaded warrior trudge into the warehouse under the weight of her armor, weapons, and pack, while leading her newly acquired horse. She had not complained once during their excursion, and she had set aside her emotions to put up with undeserved criticism.

  He looked back at Tieran and said, “Arrange a ceremony.”

  Rezkin dropped his belongings in his room and checked on Cat, who vibrated when he stroked her fur. After changing into a set of simple traveling clothes, he left the palace. Before anything else, Rezkin wanted to check the site of the battle against the demon. Although people kept constant watch on the area and were mapping the tunnels, he preferred to perform his own assessment. As he walked through the city, he had a sense of being watched. It was not an unusual sensation, considering the seventeen elven wraiths that inhabited the citadel, but this felt more substantial. He checked around every corner and in every shadow and still found nothing. Something about the island or the citadel made him suspicious, and the only way he had found to counteract it was the stone he wore around his neck. Even that was not completely effective.

  He stepped beyond the corveua, taking the garden path around the city’s perimeter toward the wooded area. The tenseness in his shoulders began to relax as he walked further from the citadel, and he realized that his concerns must have been in his mind. As he approached the drop-off that led to the pool where Yserria and the others had been held, he felt the thrill of battle energy burst through his veins. He felt a sense of motion in the air, a spurious whistle on the wind. He dodged then ducked behind a tree. He looked back the way he had come, searching for the source of the attack. Then, he surveyed the tree trunk to find a slim, silver throwing dagger lodged in its bark.