Blackmark (The Kingsmen Chronicles #1): An Epic Fantasy Adventure Sword and Highland Magic

by Jean Lowe Carlson

  Ghrenna’s head had finally ceased throbbing sometime after breakfast. Luc had insisted she eat, so she had taken a bit of oat porridge with honey from the tray the goodwife of the inn had brought up. The goodwife had been all bustle, trying to tuck the covers around Ghrenna, shoving more pillows behind her so she could eat sitting up. Ghrenna hated the attention, but her body felt weak as a three-day-old kitten from the night’s seizures. Luc had unceremoniously pushed the goodwife from the room, and now the porridge bowl was empty upon the tray across Ghrenna’s legs. She tried to lift the heavy tray by its iron handles to set it aside, only to find her arms shaking from the strain.

  The tray barely came off her knees.

  Luc was there fast, whisking it away without a single teasing comment. In fact, he hadn’t said much this morning. He had only really opened his mouth to tell Shara and Gherris to get out scouting manses, and also to tell the goodwife firmly that she was excused. But now he sat at the edge of the bed, reaching up to stroke the nape of her neck beneath her hair. It was tender, but Ghrenna also noted the possessiveness in it, since her encounter with Elohl last night. A mutual jealousy that both men had shared.

  “How is it? Your head?” Luc’s green eyes were all concern.

  “Better.” Ghrenna admitted. “You were right, food helped.”

  “Feeling sick? Do I need to get a basin?”

  Ghrenna shook her head. “No. No vomiting.”

  He nodded, fingers still at her neck. Ghrenna could feel traces of his ability soothing the muscles and joints, easing tightness from her previous spasms. But it was sluggish, and though Luc was attentive, his eyelids were drooping heavily.

  “You should rest, Luc.”

  He shook his head, blinking hard. “No. You’re not better yet.”

  “Luc, you’re exhausted. Healing me is taking it out of you. If you continue, it’ll put both of us out of commission. The team can’t have that.”

  His glower was sullen suddenly. “You shouldn’t have kissed him.”

  Ghrenna felt a red flush spread across her cheeks. Here it was, despite all the years Ghrenna had tried to avoid this very conversation. Now Luc knew the truth of her. Now he knew everything. And had seen perhaps more than a man could bear. She looked down, staring at her hands. “I know.”

  He was silent a long while, golden brows knitted. “Did you… see anything? When you spasmed this last time?”

  Ghrenna went very still, trying to recall the visions she had been graced with the night before when she and Elohl had kissed in his blankets. Most of it was muddled, meaningless. But there were flashes surging through, images that almost made sense. “Yes and no.” Ghrenna sighed. “I saw… byrunstone halls, lined with torches. There were armed men rushing through the halls. Some wore the blue of the Guard. It was probably Roushenn, but I can’t be sure. I saw a high-gabled room filled with nobles, men and women in silk and gems. I think it was a ceremony. A woman with red-gold hair grabbed her stomach. And then there was chaos. People panicking, fleeing…”

  Ghrenna shook her head again. Everything was muddled, vague. “There was a woman with white eyes… all white, standing by an Alranstone with a half-lidded, bloody eye, inside the Jenner compound. She… gestured to me? Beckoned? And I saw two men? Tall? Inked? Two tall Alranstones? I don’t know, Luc. I don’t know what I saw.” But Ghrenna knew better. Though she couldn’t recall the details, every part of this vision she had been seared with when she and Elohl had kissed at dawn had the blood-iron taste of truth to it. The taste of death.

  Luc’s face was grim. “Did the woman look anything like that portrait on the street?”

  Ghrenna shook her head. “No. But she had the same color hair.”

  “It could have been the Dhenra.”

  Ghrenna nodded. “I thought that as well. But the ceremony? The hall was hardly large enough to be her coronation.” Ghrenna leaned back against the headboard, tired. She hadn’t even risen today, except one shaky trip to the privy that Shara had helped her with before she left. “Anyway, what do you care? I thought you weren’t ever going to be involved in palace affairs.”

  Luc set his jaw as he frowned. “Elyasin was a nice girl, when I knew her.”

  Ghrenna closed her eyes. “We don’t even know who I saw. Or what event.”

  “So will you run off now? Off to be a Kingsman and save the royalty?”

  Luc’s tone was scathing. Ghrenna did not open her eyes, knowing what he really meant and not able to face it. Every limb felt like it weighed fifty stone. “I don’t know anymore, Luc. Once I was a young woman with a righteous fire, burning for the Kingsmen who saved me. I had training to ease my anger and help me process the fear and pain of what I went through, and my visions. But when it all was ripped away, when my mind was broken and I was hauled off and pledged to serve the Fleetrunners ten years… I don’t know. I don’t feel any honor for the Crown anymore. I don’t have a master, Luc. I just try to get by.”

  “Do I help you get by?” The vulnerability in Luc’s voice was heartbreaking. The plea.

  Ghrenna opened her eyes to look at him. “Of course. You and Shara and Gherris.”

  “Am I no better to you than Shara and Gherris?” His half-smile was bitter, his voice terribly soft.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  He shrugged, debonair and mocking and vulnerable all at once.

  “I might be dead right now if it wasn’t for you. A few times.”

  His fingers stroked the nape of her neck, his healing touch gone. “Do you love him?”

  Ghrenna’s eyes snapped up at the bold question. It was unlike Luc, to get right to the point. He used to suffer and mope dramatically over women, moaning about this beautiful lady who had spurned him, and that creature of darkness that had denied him. But Ghrenna had never seen him like this. He was bold and angry now, direct, and there was a suffering in his gaze that for all the women he’d bedded and lost, courted and moped over, none had caused him dismay like this. Because of all those women he’d bedded, he’d loved none of them. Except Ghrenna could see his love now, plain in the weariness that ringed him, plain in the defiant angle of his chin, plain in the utter vulnerability of those hard, cynical eyes.

  “I do love him,” Ghrenna whispered, hating herself. “I’ve always loved him.”

  It was a blade through Luc’s heart. She saw it thrust in, saw it twist, saw him flinch. His fingers spasmed at her neck. And then a veil dropped over his eyes. One moment he was truth and the next he was lies. Dramatic hauteur settled in, to cover his pain. A wry twist graced his mouth, and a clever half-laugh bubbled from his throat.

  And just like that, the real Luc was gone, replaced by a sham.

  “The lovely lady of the twin lakes takes my heart,” he jested, “and wears it upon a chain around her neck.” He rose with a dramatic sigh and went to the window, throwing it wide and letting in the late morning heat.

  “Luc, please…” Ghrenna pleaded.

  He didn’t turn to look at her. Slouching by the window, he’d crossed his arms, staring out over the street beyond. Staring out towards the bluestone palace in the far distance, up the Tiers.

  A knock came at the door suddenly. Luc noted it with a glance, but he still did not look at Ghrenna, nor turn from the window. Ghrenna sighed, struggling to swing her legs out of bed. There was nothing she could do for Luc. Nothing she could do for either of them, but at least she could get out of this damn bed and get the door. She had just managed it, but Luc was already striding to the door, a knife tucked up behind his forearm. He swung the door wide, to reveal a pretty slender woman with a long blonde braid, who startled at Luc’s quick motion. She caught her breath, gazing up with big green eyes.

  Luc adopted a lazy slouch against the doorframe, grinning at the pretty creature that had come to the door. He did it in just such a way that it showed off his fit abdomen beneath his leathers, and Ghrenna saw the woman’s dark eyelashes flicker down, noting everything there was to note about th
e handsome rogue.

  And Luc, for his part, was absolutely lecherous. “My, my… a pretty maid comes to my door with sorrow in her eyes! How can I banish that sorrow for you, good lady? I am all for you!” Luc swept into the courtly bow that made the ladies at wealthy parties faint, catching up one of the woman’s slender hands and pressing it with a kiss, swift and startling.

  The blonde was overcome for a moment, before she snatched away her hand. “That will be quite enough of that!” But Ghrenna saw a pleased little smile curl her lips. “I’m looking for a woman named Ghrenna? The goodwife of the inn said she could be found in this room? I bear an urgent message from Elohl den’Alrahel.”

  Luc stepped back from the doorway, sliding out of the way, really. He was on the hunt now, every movement honed to perfection, a hunt to ease his pain. The woman proceeded in, sidling around his intensity. Her attention snapped to Ghrenna upon the bed while Luc shut the door, slipping his knife out of sight in a quick gesture the woman completely missed. The woman’s pale green eyes flickered over Ghrenna, taking in her hair, her face, her posture, her Kingsman greys. She turned slightly, looking at Luc askance, who was still slouching against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He gave his most smoldering smirk before she faced Ghrenna once more.

  “Elohl said you weren’t well.” The woman murmured. “I can see why. You look terrible!”

  Ghrenna slid forward to the edge of the bed. It took effort, and her limbs trembled even from so very little. Still clad in her greys from the night before, she tried to adopt a more commanding pose. “You have a message from Elohl?”

  “May we speak privately?” The woman countered, her gaze flicking to Luc.

  “Whatever you have to say may be said in front of my associate.”

  The woman fiddled with her long honey-blonde braid. “Elohl says to tell you the Dhenra needs you to earn your Inkings, if you’re well enough. You must go to the West Guardhouse and ask for Fenton den’Kharel, First Lieutenant Guardsman, and to not take no for an answer. And he also says…” But at this, the woman balked. Ghrenna saw a flicker of jealousy flare through her, and a fierce temper. “He will find a way to get in touch… after all these years.”

  Ghrenna heard Luc’s snort from the doorway. “Get in touch. Brilliant. Subtle.”

  The woman’s gaze snapped to him and then back to Ghrenna. Ghrenna tried to not let her fatigue nor her ire show, wishing for the support of the headboard. “And who are you?”

  “My name is Eleshen den’Fhenrir. I’m Elohl’s traveling companion.”

  “Traveling companion?” Luc rose from his slouch at the door, stepping into the conversation with heat in his demeanor for the lady Eleshen. “If you traveled with me, I’d treat you better. I’d call you my Queen of dreams and take your burdens for you both day and night.”

  His courting backfired on the slender woman, who rounded upon him with vinegar on her tongue. “And I would slap that language from you until you couldn’t stand straight! I know a rogue when I see one!”

  Luc slid forward a pace, seductive, using his height and golden good looks to his advantage. “Slap me, lovely,” he murmured. “Slap me until I can’t stand, and I will kneel at your feet. You’ve stolen this rogue’s heart. My blood pounds in your hands…”

  The woman was gaping at him now, her face red and flustered.

  “Oh, for Aeon’s sake,” Ghrenna bit off her words more harshly than was truly necessary. “Luc! Leave off!”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.” He had meant it to be teasing, but there was a hard bite to his voice. He was trying to make Ghrenna jealous with all his antics, and though Ghrenna had admitted her love for Elohl, she couldn’t abide what Luc was doing, flaunting everything they’d shared right in her face. Ghrenna knew she’d done the same thing to him last night, but it didn’t make anything better. Her gut twisted along to his needles and barbs, and a lancing of tension went searing through her temples, agonizing.

  The slender woman jolted back a pace. She glanced quickly from one to the other, feeling the tension in the room. “I can see I’ve come at a bad time. Do you have a return message for Elohl?”

  “Wait.” Ghrenna raised a hand, forestalling her departure. “What does he mean me to do? Who is this Fenton den’Kharel?”

  The woman seemed on the edge of bundling herself up and leaving, but something like pity settled in her eyes. “I overheard a conversation Elohl had with him this morning, early. The Dhenra is in danger, or so his sister Olea says. Olea’s been imprisoned, and asked her First Lieutenant Fenton den’Kharel to protect the Dhenra in her stead. They’re arranging Elohl to be smuggled into the palace as a guard, to protect the Dhenra’s person. I think Elohl needs your help.”

  Ghrenna started to stand, an unconscious impulse to go to Elohl flooding her. She got halfway up, felt the blood wash from her head, her vision tunneling. She tipped forward, sprawling to hold onto the bedside table. Luc was there instantly, scooping her up and settling her back to the bed. Ghrenna took slow, deep breaths, willing her consciousness back from the brink. Gradually, her vision returned. But her body was even more shaky than before, and she felt suddenly like she might be sick. Pounding intensified in her temples.

  “I’ve got to tell Elohl about my vision.” Ghrenna gasped though her pain.

  The woman moved forward, a worried expression on her face. “You’re really not well.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ve seen fevers less severe than this. You can’t even walk, can you?”

  “I can walk.” Ghrenna ground her teeth, feeling the pounding spreading around the sides of her head. Soon it would form a band, and once it did, her head would be trapped in a vise-grip of suffering.

  “You can’t even stand, Ghren.” Luc’s voice was calm, sad at her side. He smoothed her blonde waves out of her face, holding it all back as she leaned forward, the room spinning drastically. “Do you need a basin?” He murmured.

  Ghrenna nodded quickly. The vomit was rising no matter how she choked it down.

  “I’ll get it.” The woman Eleshen hustled, nearly tripping over her own feet. The washbasin appeared between Ghrenna’s feet, not a moment too soon. Luc held her steady as she retched, keeping her hair back. The woman dipped a washcloth into the water pitcher, sliding it behind Ghrenna’s neck. Ghrenna vomited again, the world tilting, her vision fading. A third time she retched, and then there was no more porridge to bring back up. She spit, her head a maddening tarentesh of misery, whirling and diving and pounding like the dancers hard-shod feet. She cleared her nose, wiped it with the cloth.

  Which came away red with blood. A lot of blood.

  “Oh, dear.” Eleshen’s voice was all motherly concern. “Here now, let me hold that. It should stop in a moment. Probably just the pressure from vomiting.”

  Ghrenna was reeling. She didn’t even know she had keened until she felt Luc’s arms wind steadily around her from behind, supporting her, cradling her like a child. “Shh, Ghren… here, lean back on me.”

  She did, her head a maddening fury, one of her worst. Luc absorbed her weight, winding his hands through her hair. And where his fingers went an ocean of sweet release seeped in. Where he touched, the pain rolled back, but those kind fingers were daggers to Ghrenna’s heart. Her chest involuted, her heart collapsing from within. Her body broke into sobs, renting and wracking and awful, that it wasn’t Elohl who was touching her now. That she was so terribly weak. That Luc was being so kind.

  Luc was steady and gentle, working his fingers across her skull. Exhaustion swept Ghrenna as her sobs gradually subsided. Her eyelids settled closed, a few snippets of sound coming to her before she fell asleep.

  “Aeon… what’s wrong with her?!”

  Luc’s voice was sad, bitter, all trace of flirtation gone. “She loves a man she cannot touch. And detests the man she can.”