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

by Kel Kade

  Akris acknowledged Rezkin’s statement with a solemn nod. “You assume the ideology of a striker, duty above sentiment. It is a paramount quality in a soldier, but I am not sure it is best in a king.”

  Rezkin said, “The qualities of a king are irrelevant so long as he is born first and to the right parents.”

  “Yes, I see your point, but I am still bound by oath to serve the King of Ashai.”

  “Then you should decide who you recognize as king. Your position here is valuable because you can spy on both Channería and Lon Lerésh; but, the truth is, I do not need you. My network spreads quickly, and I already have agents to feed me information.”

  Rezkin told the lie with confidence, but it was worth the surprise and suspicion in the striker’s eyes. Whether he ended up serving Rezkin or Caydean, it was to Rezkin’s advantage for the striker to believe he had more than he did.

  Akris returned his gaze to the parchment, his expression one of intense contemplation. The man had made a mistake in revealing his weakness, his desire to return to a wife they both knew could already be dead. Rezkin thought it a sentiment unbecoming of a striker, though. It stunk of a desperation he doubted the man felt. He might truly be desperate for liberation but for some reason other than the one he stated—probably boredom. For a striker, three years of serving as an ambassador’s aide in a nonhostile queendom would be akin to torture. Or he might be trying to gain his way into Rezkin’s company by appealing to Rezkin’s ability to empathize, in which case he had not only failed but revealed that he had no idea with whom he was dealing.

  Rezkin interrupted the man’s internal struggle. “You do not have to decide now. If you wish to serve me, report to the strikers on my ship before we leave.”

  “They are here? Shezar and Roark?”

  “Shezar is here,” Rezkin replied. Shezar and Roark had sworn fealty to him in front of everyone at the tournament, so it was not a surprise that their names were known. It was interesting that Akris had intercepted such detailed reports, however.

  “Then you have more than two?” Akris said, failing to conceal his surprise.

  Rezkin grinned but did not offer more. Instead he said, “The only information I desire from you at the moment is what you know about Erisial’s plans regarding me.”

  Akris shook his head. “I am afraid I have nothing to offer on that front. The woman is fanatically independent. She tells no one of her plans, especially the important ones. I doubt she even confides in her consort.”

  “What of him?” Rezkin asked.

  “Serunius has been with Erisial for many years. He is intelligent enough to challenge her but smart enough not to. He is fiercely loyal and protective, and he is the father of Oledia and their two sons. I think he is truly in love with Erisial, although I know not if she returns the sentiment. Her callousness has allowed her to hold the throne for this long, and he had no small part in helping her to gain it. He is a master of several weapons, including the sword, and a natural battle mage. In short, he is the most desired champion in the queendom, thus far capable of meeting any challenge. At least, until you arrived, and she has made her interest in you obvious. She has declared you fair game and given her opponents time to scheme. I expect blood to be spilled. If you are not careful, it will be yours.”

  “My blood does not run so freely,” Rezkin said.

  “Every man’s blood runs like water when his guts are laid open, with or without a crown on his head.”

  “Then I had best keep my guts intact,” Rezkin said as he held his hand out for his document. Once it was secured, he said, “I intend to liberate Ashai from Caydean and make it a peaceful, prosperous kingdom where my people will be safe. You may choose whichever side you prefer but know that the actions you take thereafter are by your choice and not the mere fulfilment of your oath.”

  Rezkin left the ambassador’s suite, taking a different route on the return trip. It had started raining heavily, and he would not be able to scale the slippery walls. As he neared his next turn, he saw something curious. A young woman was scurrying down the opposite corridor when a masculine arm reached out from a doorway and yanked her into a room. Although she was out of sight, Rezkin heard a muffled squeal and the scuff of soft shoes across the floorboards. He might have stayed out of the mess if this did not happen to be the woman who had been assisting his companions. There was a good chance that Celise’s abduction had something to do with him.

  He slinked silently toward the room and hovered beside the doorway. A quick glance revealed the entrance to a supply room. A hulking man in a guard’s uniform towered over the petite woman. He held Celise against the shelves with one hand pressing against her chest while his other clasped an illuminated mage stone.

  “You do not have permission to touch me,” Celise said. “I will report you.”

  “I think you won’t,” the man said as he inhaled the scent at her neck, the blonde whiskers of his beard scraping across her skin. “You like it.”

  Rezkin pulled back as she turned her head toward him, even though her eyes were shut, as if she did not wish to see her assailant up close.

  Her voice wavered as she said, “What do you want, Morlin?”

  “I want you, Celise. Why will you not claim me?”

  “You are a brute,” she snapped. “You take liberties, and you smell horrible.”

  Morlin chuckled. “If you truly don’t want me, why have you not reported me?”

  “You know why. Your matrianera has even less honor than you. If I report you, she will challenge me, and I will be forced to choose a champion.”

  “And you have not, so I know you are not serious. You want me. Admit it already.”

  “No, I do not want you. With my position, no one will act as my champion without a claim. I will not allow your disgusting ways to force me into making a claim I do not want.”

  Anger filled Morlin’s tone as he said, “There is a reason no one would be your champion without a claim. You selfishly hoard the power of your position when you should be sharing it with a consort.”

  “And you want me to choose you. That will never happen, Morlin. When I do finally choose one, I will be sure to send him your way.”

  Morlin laughed. “Then you will be sending him to his death, for I will not hold back, no matter the terms of the duel. In fact, I will take out anyone you claim. You will be mine, Celise.”

  Realizing the confrontation had nothing to do with him, Rezkin was once again faced with a conundrum. Logically, he should walk away. Getting involved would only cause him unnecessary problems, and he could not foresee any benefits. Celise was ro, though. He had told Frisha that he had found some value in the ro, and it was true. Without the ro, he had nothing to protect, which meant he had no purpose. But, unlike the Adana’Ro, he was not committed to protecting all the ro. He had only to protect his friends. Celise was not his friend.

  He started to walk away when the man grunted in pain. Next, he heard a slap, and then Celise’s pained cry, followed by a sob. Rezkin mentally groaned. Celise could not protect herself against the trained soldier who was twice her weight. Frisha would be angry with him if he did not help. If he wanted to honor Frisha, he had to help Celise.

  Rezkin drew the soldier’s sword at his hip, rounded the corner, and thrust the blade through the man’s side. Morlin froze with his hands around Celise’s neck. He looked down in shocked confusion and then turned his gaze on Rezkin. If Morlin had been breathing, he might have drawn in a few before he finally recognized the face behind the stolen uniform. Rezkin withdrew the sword slowly. Blood spilled from the wound as the man slumped to the ground with one final, wheezing breath. The mage stone winked out, leaving the cupboard in shadowed darkness. Rezkin picked up the stone and focused so that it glowed again.

  Celise choked and coughed as she struggled for air. Her lashes batted frantically over her wide, frightened eyes. As she pulled in steadier breaths, she stared at the pooling blood and the dead man’s stare. She had not y
et looked his way, and Rezkin knew he could disappear before she recognized him. Still, he waited, uncertain as to why.

  Blinking away tears, she stared only so far as his uniform at first.

  “You killed him,” she gasped.

  He responded to her Leréshi. “Yes, he was trying to kill you.”

  She shook her head. “No, he would not have killed me.” She finally looked up to his face and then rocked back in surprise.

  Rezkin said, “I cannot be seen in this uniform. You will wait a mark and then report the incident.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “No! They will think I killed him. His matrianera will blame me!”

  “You will tell them the truth. Tell them that I killed him. When they question me, I will confirm it.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  Rezkin frowned. “It is the truth. Just do not mention the uniform,” he said, patting his chest.

  She seemed momentarily relieved but then began crying. “No, it will not matter. Matrianera Depheli will find a way to blame it on me. She will say that it was a scheme, that I encouraged and then betrayed him or some such. Can we not hide him? We can pretend this did not happen.”

  Rezkin raised a brow. “I could dispose of the body, but the truthseekers will eventually figure out that you had something to do with it. By then, I will be gone, and there will be no one to corroborate your story.”

  The young woman sobbed, “Oh, what am I to do? You should not have killed him!”

  “You need not concern yourself. I will serve as your champion should someone challenge you over this.”

  “You?” she exclaimed, and then she narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you ask in return?”

  Rezkin shook his head. “Only that you not try to claim me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! I would never. No, no, no. I have no intention of angering Queen Erisial.” Again, the suspicion entered her gaze, and she said, “Are you doing this to gain her favor, because it will not work. She cares nothing for me.”

  Rezkin tilted his head. “You are a member of Erisial’s house?”

  Celise shrugged. “It does not surprise me that you do not know. I am grateful that I am accepted as a member of her house, but she does not claim me otherwise. I am her eldest daughter. Her mother forced her to make a claim when she was only fifteen, and she hated the man. Serunius is not my father. That is why she does not like me. Queen Erisial says that Oledia is her only true daughter.”

  “She makes you call her Queen?”

  “I am just another servant in her house. She will not allow Serunius or any other member of the house to stand as champion for me if I am challenged—not unless the goal of the challenge is to damage the house standing. This”—she waved at the body on the floor—“she will blame on me. Even if she presented a champion on my behalf to preserve the house’s honor, she would still expel me. But, if you stand for me—I do not know.”

  “Do you know what her plans are for me?”

  “It seems obvious that she intends to claim you, but the queen would never speak to me, much less confide in me.”

  “Why did Morlin think you held a position of power?” Rezkin said.

  She looked at him pensively. “Some people think Queen Erisial loves me and that she only pretends otherwise in public to protect me. Some think she is trying to distance me from the house so that if she is killed, I might be spared. Others believe that she wants her enemies to think I hate her so that they will try to gain my confidence and assistance in overthrowing her. None of it is true; but their beliefs, and the fact that I am still a member of her house, mean that I am in a higher position of power, even though I am only a servant.”

  “Yes, people’s perceptions are often more powerful than the truth,” Rezkin mused. “You could take advantage of those perceptions and declare your own house.”

  Her face scrunched with worry. “Yes, but I would have to claim a consort for champion.” She glanced down. “Someone like him.”

  Rezkin shook his head, knowing the guard from whom he borrowed the uniform might wake before he was able to return it and avoid suspicion. “I am out of time. Report this in a candle mark, and I will stand as champion.”

  “Okay, but how do I know you will follow through?” she said.

  “You will just have to trust me.” Even as he said it, he knew it was much to ask of any Leréshi.

  A heavy knock sounded at the door. Wesson approached with confusion. It was not the soft, hesitant knock of the servant woman, Celise. Queen’s Consort Serunius and several guards stood beyond the portal, and he looked as if he would be all too pleased to dispense with them all. He did not even glance at Wesson as he pushed his way into the sitting room.

  “We are here for your master,” he said. “I believe some call him Rezkin.”

  Wesson shook his head slowly, glancing at Yserria and Nanessy who had come out of their rooms to investigate. Frisha and Reaylin followed, all looking equally concerned.

  Wesson said, “Um, he, is not, exactly, here, I believe.” He drew out the words, stalling for a few extra seconds to think.

  Serunius rounded on him, and Wesson understood what the Queen of Lon Lerésh saw in the man. He was a lion prepared to rip into his enemies, and he held himself with the confidence of a man who could.

  “The journeyman means that I was in my private bedchamber,” Rezkin said from the doorway. “There is no need to intimidate the young man. He is only doing as I asked.”

  Serunius glanced at Wesson with a viper’s gaze. “It is not difficult to intimidate a mouse. He had best hope he grows into some real power or he will never be claimed.”

  Yserria straightened her spine and sauntered over to stand between Serunius and Wesson. “It is fortunate for the journeyman that our ways are different from yours.”

  Wesson knew that Yserria was trying to do him a favor by redirecting the man’s attention, but the constant belittlement was causing his generally well-controlled anger to simmer hotter. He inhaled deeply to calm himself and then returned to the chair in the corner where he might go unnoticed.

  The distraction worked. Serunius perused Yserria’s figure and said, “You, my lady, could claim any man you want.”

  Yserria smiled sassily and placed her hand on her hip. “Any man?”

  Wesson wanted to laugh. Reaylin had been working with Yserria on developing some skills in flirtation all afternoon, but it was comical since he knew how uncomfortable Yserria was with performing the act.

  Serunius’s expression became stormy, and he turned to Rezkin. “You are summoned to the court. There has been some trouble, and you have been named a … person of interest.”

  Rezkin smiled jovially and said, “Of course! I would be glad to assist with your investigation in any way I can.”

  Serunius appeared thrown by the change in Rezkin’s demeanor. By the man’s tense stance and the number of guards he had brought, Wesson thought he had expected trouble. Wesson had no doubt that, no matter what had happened, Rezkin was involved.

  The Queen’s Consort glanced at the others and said, “Your people will attend as well. We may have questions for them.”

  Rezkin clapped his hands and rubbed them together with enthusiasm. He strode over and threw his arms around Yserria and Frisha’s shoulders. He said, “Excellent! Let us all go. It will be interesting to see your proceedings. None of us have been to a Leréshi court. Tell me, are they usually conducted at this late hour?”

  Serunius gritted his teeth, apparently frustrated—whether at Rezkin’s ostensible lack of concern or his ridiculous behavior, Wesson was not sure. Remembering his part, Wesson rose lazily and sighed loud enough to get their attention.

  “Do I have to go?” he whined. “I have been practicing all evening, and I am tired.”

  Serunius frowned at him. “Pathetic. Everyone must go.” The man turned and imperiously strode through the doorway to await them in the corridor.

  As they passed through the
corridors, surrounded by guards, Rezkin waved his arms with enthusiasm for the tiniest things.

  “Look at these colors,” he said. “We should get some of these colors for the citadel. Which do you prefer most, Yserria?”

  Yserria blinked at him in surprise. “Me? Um, I don’t know—”

  “What about you, Frisha?”

  “Well, I guess I like the blue—”

  “Blue it is! Your wing will be blue.” Rezkin laughed, ridiculously pleased with the pronouncement.

  “My wing?” she said.

  Rezkin laughed again. “Well, there so many, I have decided we must name them. I thought to name one after each of you.”

  “No, I don’t think I like that idea,” Frisha said.

  Wesson glanced at Serunius. The man appeared to be further bristling with Rezkin’s every word and chuckle. Although he did not understand the why of it, he realized what Rezkin was doing.

  Wesson said, “I agree with Frisha. That could get a bit awkward. Hey Brandt, how about we go sleep in Frisha tonight, and then we can work out in Yserria?”

  Rezkin giggled. It was not a manly laugh or even a chuckle. It was the kind of girly sound that should never be heard from a grown man, especially one of Rezkin’s size and build.

  Serunius abruptly stopped and spun on his heel to face them. “Will you please be quiet? People are sleeping in these rooms, and you are disrupting them.”

  Rezkin appeared momentarily chastised. Then, he smiled and made a booming announcement. “I apologize everyone! Sorry! It was my fault! Completely my fault!”

  Through gritted teeth, Serunius said, “Lord Rezkin—”

  “King,” Rezkin said.

  Serunius sighed loudly. “Yes, I am sorry for your people. Our people, however, do not recognize your claim to that title. You are lucky that I call you Lord.”