King’s Wrath

by Fiona McIntosh

  Ravan continued. “And you are confused in believing that Leo has any right to claim over Loethar, for Loethar’s claim to the throne precedes Leo’s by a generation.” He paused. “I can see you don’t follow. Let me be clear. Brennus knowingly usurped the Valisar throne.” As Gavriel’s mouth opened in surprise, Ravan held a hand up. “Brennus was Valisar through and through; that is not in contention. But so is Loethar Valisar through and through. He is also the son of Darros the Eighth, older than Brennus by several moons. I might add, the identity of the women who gave birth to either heir has no bearing on the weight of the child’s claim. According to Valisar law there is no such child as a bastard heir. If your father is Valisar you are Valisar and heir to the throne of Penraven.”

  “If you feel this way why did you try to help Leo all those years ago?” Gavriel demanded.

  “I don’t feel any particular way,” Ravan replied evenly. “On the Steppes my role was to watch over Loethar. When I came to the palace instinct prompted me to watch over all the Valisars. I helped each as best I could. That Piven has come into his powers so strongly and with such a savage view of life is not my doing or my concern. That Leonel has disappointed you with his one-eyed approach to taking back the crown at all costs is of no consequence to me personally. But the fact that Loethar is hailed as a usurper I do find inaccurate and I must uphold his claim. As to the princess, she—”

  “Princess? Well, you didn’t waste any time,” Gavriel sneered, casting a sarcastic look toward Ravan and Roddy. “Happy to share your secrets with Loethar but not Leo.”

  “It seems the Valisar princess did not die,” Loethar said in his quiet way, seemingly unoffended by Gavriel’s recent attempt to hack him to pieces.

  “So I gather. But do we know that for sure?” Gavriel said, his breath sounding suddenly shallow. He began shaking his head, his loyalties feeling as though they were swinging like a pendulum: one minute keeping information from Leo, the next feeling offended when others did. He didn’t want to be discussing this matter of Leo’s sister in this company and yet he couldn’t help himself. He was involved in that episode, his brother, his father too. “I was there,” he growled. “I stood next to my father when King Brennus told us that his daughter had to die. He looked at Corbel as he said it. We were shocked. I mean, I knew my duty was to protect Leo at all costs but Corbel’s role—to protect the princess by killing her . . .” It sickened him to even recount the words. Had Corbel known it was a ruse? He couldn’t have, not when he threw that last disquieting look at Gavriel.

  “And what happened then?” Loethar asked, clearly unable to disguise his own intrigue in the tale.

  “Er.” Gavriel swept a shaky hand through his hair. “Dragging my mind back . . .” He shook his head, trawling through memories. “After the king told us the terrible plan, Corbel and my father were excused.”

  “Why?”

  “King Brennus wanted to speak to me privately.”

  “So you never actually discussed the death of the baby with your brother?” Loethar prompted.

  “I never saw my brother again.” He shook his head and his voice shook with it. “It was a terrible thing to ask of Corbel. He was quiet, prone to a darker temperament than I was, but that didn’t make him capable of killing a child in cold blood. I hated the king in that moment.”

  “Then hate him more,” Ravan replied. “Because in holding you back on the pretext of needing to speak with you in private, he was actually preventing you from learning the truth of what your brother was genuinely charged to do.”

  “To save her,” Gavriel said in a dead tone.

  “No, it was worse. Brennus did ask your brother to murder a child. A baby girl was killed by his hand; I remember a terrible ruckus on the night of Loethar’s attack, a woman screaming that her newborn daughter had gone missing. But her wails were lost in a much larger tragedy for the walls were breached shortly thereafter. Your brother was charged by your father to kill the peasant child purely for appearances.”

  “Appearances?” Gavriel murmured, his heart pounding.

  “Queen Iselda, even Leo,” Loethar began, then shook his head. “Actually everyone, including myself, believed the baby dead. She was cremated and I stood and watched her ashes cast to the wind. I know the queen believed that was her child; her trauma was not feigned and therein was Brennus’s masterstroke. Even his family believed. No one could give away the secret that the child was alive and being hurried away.”

  “By my brother,” Gavriel finished. “Why couldn’t they tell me?”

  Loethar shrugged softly. “I suppose for the same reason they couldn’t tell the queen. The grief had to be genuine. If you knew you might try and comfort her or get word to her; and you would surely have told Leo. You might have tried to speak with your brother, be overheard, risk the plan being discovered. Brennus was heartless, de Vis. He didn’t care about how any of you suffered. He didn’t care that he imposed a weighty burden on a young man, asking him to murder a newborn baby stolen from her crib. All that mattered was his crown.”

  “So what of the princess? You are all sure she has emerged?”

  “Apparently,” Loethar replied.

  “She has,” Roddy confirmed. “I know she has.”

  “Then you can be sure that whoever is behind her claim is chasing personal glory,” Gavriel warned.

  “Were you chasing that same personal glory when you gave up everything to protect and aid Leonel’s claim?” As Gavriel de Vis ground his jaw in barely restrained contempt, Ravan continued. “I say that only because it is your twin brother who is—”

  “You’ve seen him?” Gavriel demanded.

  “No. I promise I have not.”

  “But he’s alive, he’s—?”

  “I cannot say. But Roddy and I both experienced a disturbance—a powerful magic. It is our belief the Valisar princess has re-emerged. As she was taken somewhere safe and secret by Corbel de Vis, he is the only person who could have brought her back.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Loethar and Gavriel asked together. Gavriel didn’t miss that Loethar threw a wry glance his way.

  Ravan shrugged again. “We know things. As we travel I will tell you about a man by the name of Sergius. He is the reason I am of this plane and how I now walk in the guise of a man; how I am drawing upon his knowledge. Sergius is the reason Corbel and the princess are safe and why they were called to return.”

  Loethar was frowning. “Where is this Sergius?”

  “He’s dead,” Roddy answered. “Murdered by Greven.”

  “Greven?” Gavriel said, leaping onto the name. “Greven is the man who helped Leo and myself when we were first escaping your clutch,” he said to Loethar. “It was his daughter who introduced us to Kilt Faris. It seems Greven then met with Piven, although I can’t give you any detail.”

  Ravan continued. “Sergius died at the hands of Greven but not by his will. Greven has been trammeled by Piven and is now entirely under his command.”

  “And he’s going to kill his brother and sister,” Roddy said.

  “And his uncle,” Ravan added tonelessly.

  Roddy sighed. “Which is why I had to give myself to Loethar. It’s the only way we’re going to save Leo and the princess.”

  “Save . . . ?” He turned first to Loethar, then glanced at Elka.

  “No more killing,” she said.

  Gavriel finally looked Loethar directly in the eye. “And you are in agreement with this? Or are you pulling one of your cunning tricks over unsuspecting people who really do care about others?”

  “There’s not much for me to live for, de Vis,” Loethar said. “In fact, I’ve tried meeting death head on—Stracker tried and you stopped that; Leonel tried and Elka prevented a sure death; you’ve had your opportunities . . .” He paused, for once looking unsure of what to say. “Stracker has to be stopped. So does Piven by the sounds of things and he’s got his aegis and is presumably already at Brighthelm. It’s anyone’s guess wha
t havoc he is wreaking.”

  “And you will not harm Leo?”

  “I will not,” Loethar promised. “I always keep my word.”

  Gavriel stared at him, taking a measure of that promise. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Elka let out a breath. “So?” She looked unsure. “Are we all agreed? We work together, I’m taking us to Lo’s Teeth?”

  Everyone nodded except Gavriel. He turned to Ravan. “Is my brother in the mountains?”

  “That’s where we believe the princess is, and while I cannot promise, I have to presume he will be too.”

  “Then yes, I will come with you.”

  “De Vis, that does not answer Elka’s question. She asked if we’re working together. We are committed to the Valisar princess. Have you agreed to join us in that goal?” Loethar demanded.

  “If you swear before the people here that you have no intention to take the crown, then I will work with you. Leo might want me dead but I don’t want to see his blood shed. And I certainly don’t want to allow my brother’s suffering to be in vain. I will do anything I can do to aid his duty.”

  Loethar shocked them all by kneeling, looking at Roddy as he did so. “I swear to everyone here, and in the presence of my aegis, that his magic will be used only in the protection of the Valisar heirs and not to claim the throne.”

  Janus began clapping. Elka looked stunned.

  “And now you, de Vis,” Loethar encouraged. “What is your pledge to our witnesses?”

  Gavriel gave a tight smile of scorn. “If you’re asking me if I’ll attack you again, the answer is no. Everyone here seems to trust you so I’ll let someone else, in due course, deal you your just deserts.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Corbel burst into the chamber like a man possessed. “Where is she?” he yelled.

  “Calm yourself, Regor,” the Abbess warned over the others’ heads.

  Most of the nuns who had crowded anxiously into the chamber were being banished, herded out by one of the Mother’s senior aides. Corbel could move more easily into the chamber where Evie was laid out on a cot.

  “She has been sedated heavily, but she is physically unharmed,” the Abbess said before he could speak again.

  His fears abated as fast as they’d risen and now he was able to coldly take in the rest of the terrible scene. The Abbess was crouched next to Valya, who was prone on the floor, a pillow beneath her head. Corbel didn’t need anyone to tell him that she was moments from death, if not already gone. He swung around and only now noticed Barro, sitting in the corner, his head in his hands. He looked shaken.

  “Barro?” he murmured.

  The older man looked up. “I followed orders,” he murmured.

  Corbel was by his side in a heartbeat. “Tell me.”

  “She threatened my lady. I had to stop her but all I did was enter the room and challenge her. She attacked me, she hurled herself at me. I was holding the knife and she threw herself on it. I certainly had no intention of killing her.”

  “She’s not dead yet,” the Abbess murmured. “Hold this, Agetha,” she said to her aide. “Keep the pressure on that wound.”

  “What are you going to do?” Corbel asked as he saw her stand. Her old knees popped with the effort and she sighed as she turned an accusing glare on Barro.

  She shifted her gaze to Corbel. “I’m going to our apothecary to find someone who knows anything about this drug,” she said, pointing to the glass tube that still had remnants of dark liquid splattered on it. “If we can revive her,” she said, pointing to Evie, “she might be able to help Valya. She’s a chirurgeon you said, didn’t you?”

  Corbel nodded. He glanced at Barro and was impressed by how they seemed to instantly and instinctively understand each other. Neither of them cared a whit for Valya; neither would lose sleep if she took her final breath right now. Her history of cruelty and violence and her total lack of compassion had earned her the title of being the most hated woman in all of the empire. “It looks far too late for that now, Mother.”

  “We have to try,” the Abbess urged. “This is the empress, after all. But I don’t know where our apothecrist even is. Do you know, Agetha?” she asked her companion, her voice filled with anxiety.

  “She’s most likely to be with her herbs but you know Herry. She likes to roam the foothills looking for her tiny petals and special leaves.”

  “You both go. I’ll keep up the pressure and do my utmost to keep her alive,” he lied. In fact, as soon as the women turned their backs he planned to smother the empress and make sure she didn’t live to spill their secret or have any further opportunity to hurt Evie.

  “You don’t go near her,” the Abbess warned, pointing at Barro.

  But as Agetha was about to let Corbel take over the pressure a moan from behind told him that Evie was stirring.

  “She’s waking!” Agetha said excitedly, no longer relinquishing her post, and the Abbess swung around.

  Corbel’s heart sank and he stole an anguished glance at Barro, who looked equally disappointed. The Abbess was already splashing Evie with cool water and gently slapping her cheeks to bring her back to full consciousness.

  “She couldn’t have swallowed enough,” she remarked. “Quickly, help me, Regor, call to her. She might recognize your voice more readily than mine.”

  Reluctantly he gave his aid, furious that the Mother would expect Evie to help someone who just moments ago had wished her genuine harm.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t asked Master Barro more about what happened, Regor. Surely it’s not normal for an empress to attack a stranger in this way.” She looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

  He reached for an excuse. “Perhaps I’m too shocked. My mind is reeling from what I learned from the Qirin and now this attempt on Evie . . . It’s too much to take in. I’m sure Master Barro has already explained to you what happened. Soon enough he’ll tell me.”

  “Yes, but I wonder if the stories will match?” she queried. “Come on, Evie, wake up now. Try again, please,” she urged him.

  Evie moaned groggily.

  “Evie, it’s Reg,” he said, falling back on his old nickname.

  “What? Reg . . .” she called out, her voice croaky. “The drug.”

  “You’re safe now,” he murmured and wrapped his arms around her. “No harm, I promise you,” he soothed.

  Her eyes flashed open, frightened, and she began to cough and speak at the same time. “They forced drugs down my throat . . . Valya and her—”

  “I know, my dear,” the Abbess reassured her. “Amely is being held in a locked chamber, although I rather think her terror of Master Barro will keep her confined better than any key or bars.” She smiled kindly as Evie’s terror began to subside.

  “You’re safe,” Corbel repeated, more for his own comfort than Evie’s. “How are you feeling?”

  “Drowsy. Let me sit up.” They helped her to do so. It was obvious she wasn’t fully awake. “I think . . .” She stopped, a look of pure horror coming over her face. “Valya!”

  “She’s not dead,” Corbel said, hoping his disappointment wasn’t evident in his tone.

  “But very nearly,” the Abbess hurried to add. “We need your help, Evie. Please. I know you should not feel obliged but . . .”

  “What happened?” she asked, shaking her head, trying to wake herself up.

  Barro explained. “She ran at me screaming, clawing. She didn’t see the dagger in my hand. I was only holding it to scare her.”

  Evie looked at the dying woman with contempt. “She deserves to die,” she began and Corbel felt his spirits lift, “but I am obliged to save her life.”

  “Evie,” he began, a warning note in his voice.

  “If I can,” she added as qualification. Corbel closed his eyes in dismay.

  “I just need you to look at the wound and tell me if . . .” The Abbess shrugged helplessly. “If there’s anything you can do.”

  “Help me down,” Evie said. “I h
ave no real feeling in my legs.”

  Corbel half-heartedly offered a supporting arm and Evie near enough collapsed next to Valya.

  “Do you want to see the wound?” the Abbess offered, nodding at Agetha.

  “No,” Evie replied. “That won’t be necessary. I know what a stab wound looks like and I can see a lot of blood has been lost.”

  “So you can’t help her?”

  “Clear the room, please,” Evie said. Corbel looked at her in surprise and knew that everyone else’s expressions mirrored his own. “Quickly!”

  “Evie,” Corbel tried again.

  “You too,” she said to him. “Barro, you can stay. If she tries anything, you can have another go at killing her.”

  Barro smiled grimly and stood.

  “Everyone out,” Evie repeated. “We have only moments if I am to save her.” Corbel could tell she was already losing herself in the medicine. “We are losing her.”

  “But what—?” the Abbess began.

  “Go!” Evie hurled at all of them. Agetha fled as Evie took over staunching the hole in Valya’s belly, followed by the Abbess, confused and startled. Corbel, furious, trailed after the Abbess, but at the door he stopped and turned back to Evie.

  “If you do this, you will start a tidal wave of danger for us.”

  She nodded. “I have to,” she replied and he could tell there would be no further argument. He threw a look of disgust that was shared by Barro and then he stomped out behind the Mother.

  “What is she going to do?” she said, turning, perplexed and staring at him.

  “She’s going to do what you asked her to. Save the life of the empress,” Corbel snapped, and then he loped away, angry and filled with a fresh dread.

  Leo had traveled constantly. Without companionship or belongings other than Faeroe to slow him down, he moved at a steady speed, his long legs moving easily over terrain he had become so accustomed to he hardly noticed the steep climbs and unsteady footholds. His time with Kilt and his men had also taught him precious survival skills; he knew how to forage for food and to keep his small water skin topped up at every opportunity.