Duty: a novel of Rhynan

by Rachel Rossano

  Reclining on a wooden chair against multiple cushions, King Mendal’s chin rose infinitesimally as my gaze fell upon him. His attitude clearly indicated I should react, but I was at a loss as to how. His clothing, though perhaps slightly more trimmed, didn’t stand out as unusually lovely or horrible. In my opinion, his features inspired neither admiration nor disgust. Then my gaze fell to the cane leaning against his chair. Was he sensitive about a limp? Help me, I prayed desperately as Dentin led me forward .

  The king waved at Dentin.

  “Your majesty.” Dentin turned to me and stepped back. “I am honored to present Brielle Dyrease, Lady of Irvaine and Wisenvale.” I didn’t get a chance to glance at Dentin’s face, but judging by his voice, anyone would be convinced he was deeply honored. I wished I knew for sure. Dentin struck me as a man I would like to impress.

  Stepping forward, I dropped into one of my best curtseys. My mother would have been proud.

  The king motioned for me to rise. “So, Lady Irvaine, what do you have to say in defense of your cousin?”

  Fear constricted my chest. Despite the urge to look to Tomas for support, I couldn’t implicate him in whatever the king considered me guilty of doing. “I am not my cousin, your majesty. There is no love lost between us to urge my tongue on his behalf.”

  “And why would that be? Does not similar blood flow through both of your veins?”

  “We share a grandsire not values, your majesty. I am a loyal citizen of Rhynan, as was my father before me.”

  Mendal’s frown deepened. “Yet, your father fostered Lord Wisten, taking him into his home and protection.”

  “It was an effort to curb his rebellious spirit, your majesty.”

  Mendal scoffed. “He failed.”

  “Not for lack of effort, sire. No one can change another’s heart through determination. My father worked to touch my cousin’s heart until the day he died.”

  “I have difficulty believing that.”

  “Your Majesty, if I may ask, why am I being judged by my cousin’s actions and not by my own?”

  The men around the king tensed and the king’s frown deepened. Panic set in as I realized what I had done. Questioning the king tended to lead to a quick and messy end. By shear will I kept my head up and my gaze steady. No matter how strongly I wished to glance toward Tomas, I didn’t. Instead, I kept my gaze on the king’s face.

  Then support came.

  “She has a point,” Lord Dentin said loudly.

  “Be still,” the king muttered.

  “My lord–” The welcome sound of Tomas’ voice cut off at the abrupt gesture of the king’s hand.

  “I told you to be silent, Irvaine. I will not let you harbor a viper in your nest even if you have sworn to protect her.”

  “Even you cannot undo the wedding vows, my king.” Dentin passed behind me to stand at my left shoulder. “You demanded the oath of him. He swore it and carried it out…to the letter.”

  “Are you saying I will have to accept her?” Mendal grabbed the cane and struggled to his feet. “Are you saying that I, the sovereign of Rhynan, will have to settle with her being bound by her husband’s oath?”

  “If you fear her husband’s oath will not bind her, sire, demand she swear the oath herself.”

  I wanted to blurt out my willingness to take the oath, but Dentin gripped the back of my arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tomas shake his head. I clamped my lips closed.

  Dentin dropped his hand and resumed speaking. “Then, should the traitor’s words be proven true and she be found guilty, you can condemn her to a traitor’s death as a warning for other women who would fall back on their gender for mercy.”

  “Very well.” The king sat again. “Bring in the officiate to record her oath taking.”

  Movement to the left drew everyone’s focus including the king. I took advantage of the distraction to look at Tomas. He stood to the king’s right, a place of honor despite the accusations against me. He met my gaze for a moment and nodded his approval before turning to observe the appearance of the officiate.

  A familiar figure shuffled into the meeting space. His balding head had manifested no more hair than the last time I had seen him. A few long wisps of hair contorted in the wind that cracked the banners overhead.

  Dentin led me forward to the edge of the rug beneath the king’s chair. Using his hand for support, I knelt.

  The officiate grunted. “Lady Irvaine, offer your hands palms upward to his majesty.”

  I complied. King Mendal leaned forward in his chair, pulled off his gloves, and gripped the insides of my wrists with cold fingers. I looked up into his eyes. Intensely blue, they searched my gaze as though hoping to read my unfaithfulness in the depths of my eyes.

  “I accept your homage.” Then he released my hands as though I was dirty and eased back into his chair. Twitches of pain crossed his face as he moved. I wondered at the nature and root of his infirmity.

  “Now place your hands on the holy book and repeat after me,” the officiate prompted.

  “I promise on soul I will be faithful to Mendal Advicatius Firorian, King of Rhynan, never cause him harm, and observe my homage to him completely above all other persons in good faith and without deceit.”

  Once I said the words, Dentin helped me to my feet and guided me back to my place.

  A man to the king’s left rose and after bowing to the king, took a position between the king and myself. He struck a pose meant to inspire admiration. With his pot belly and straining, gilded tunic, he fell short.

  “Bring in the prisoner.”

  I looked expecting to see Orwin. Instead Tyront was dragged through the muck and thrown to the ground at my feet.

  He came up spitting and swearing. I backed away, instinctively reaching for my knife only to find it gone.

  “Thought you wouldn’t get caught, witch?”

  “Be silent before your sovereign.”

  “I am no subject of yours.” Tyront laughed. A slightly crazed light glinted in his eye. “I no longer serve you, Jester.” He shuffled his feet in a mad dance. “Neither does she.” He pointed to me. “We are puppets on Master Orwin’s strings. Simply puppets doing our master’s bidding. Bow to the king, missy, he is about to have a hissy.” He bowed to the king with great fanfare and beckoned for me to do likewise. “Bow to his chief monkey.” He dipped to Lord Dentin.

  “Cease your shenanigans, fool.” One of the other men stepped forward as though to suppress Tyront.

  “Why? I am condemned if I do and condemned if I don’t.” He pulled a face at the king. “At least I shall enjoy the trip to the gallows.”

  “What of your master?” The new speaker asked.

  “Orwin, pardon, Lord Wisten, left me to take the fall for him. Always the plotter our Orwin, eh, Bri?”

  “I am not Bri.” I responded with instinct born of habit. “My friends call me Brielle.”

  “And your family call you Bri,” Tyront supplied in a stage whisper.

  “They do not.” There was no way to prove it.

  “Enough of this farce.” The king struck his cane against the leg of his chair. The crack brought even Tyront up short. “I grow tired of this man’s blathering. Remove him.”

  The two who brought him in, dragged him out again.

  “How long until we locate Lord Wisten?” The king addressed the heavyset man to his left.

  “Four to five days at most, sire. He has few places to hide in this part of the country.”

  “Double your efforts. In the meantime, Irvaine?”

  Tomas stepped forward and bowed deeply.

  “Rise. I entrust Lady Irvaine into your care.”

  “I accept.” Tomas bowed again, but the king waved him away.

  “You are all dismissed.” Grabbing his cane, he pushed himself to his feet. With great effort, he hobbled into the tent immediately behind his chair.

  The moment the last of his attendants passed between the canvas flaps, the court flew into acti
on. Men walked every which way. Two of them intercepted Tomas on his way to where I stood. I would have met him halfway, but Dentin’s grip on my elbow stopped me.

  “It is wiser to wait, my lady.”

  So, I waited.

  When the last man released Tomas, he crossed to us, meeting Dentin’s gaze first. “Meet you in a quarter hour in my tent.”

  Dentin nodded and, after a truncated bow to me, strode off to the left with purpose.

  I opened my mouth to ask Tomas what was going on, but he stalled my request with a kiss. One hand dove into my hair and supported the nape of my neck while his other arm pulled me against him. My senses flooded. I fell under the twofold spell of his touch and the smell of him. I could barely stand when he finally released me. Thankfully, he didn’t retreat very far. Resting his forehead against the top of my head, he sucked in a deep shuddering breath.

  “Don’t speak here.” He smoothed a curl back behind my ear. The dark depths of his eyes were troubled. “I have missed you.”

  A stranger wearing the king’s livery brought Tomas’ horse. Tomas mounted without comment and pulled me up behind him. He kneed the horse into motion immediately. I had to clutch at him to avoid falling off.

  The journey from the king’s camp to Tomas’ was long enough for the euphoria of his kiss to dissipate. I began to wonder if he had truly meant what he said about missing me or if the whole wasn’t just a pretense to warn me not to speak.

  As we slowed to pass among the tents, I noted activity. It seemed a heightened level for the afternoon. Then one of the tents came down as we approached and men began packing it up.

  “We are moving out?”

  Tomas gripped and squeezed my hand gently but didn’t respond. I interpreted it as a signal to stop talking and obeyed.

  Finally he pulled us to a halt outside one of the larger tents. Antano appeared from within and greeted me with a grave nod. Taking the leads of the horse, he held it still while we dismounted.

  “When Lord Dentin arrives, send him in.” Tomas strode into the tent, holding the flap for me. I was surprised to see a smaller tent within the larger canvas one. The inner tent was constructed from a heavier cloth. It looked like wool, but I couldn’t be certain since Tomas held that flap up for me too. As I stepped inside, I realized the inner tent wasn’t a tent at all, but heavy curtains. The roof above us remained canvas and filtered the sunlight down from above.

  Tomas closed the flap and crossed to throw his gloves on the wide cot on the far side of the space.

  “We don’t have much time.” He pulled a camp chair from its place by the curtain and set it next to the table. “Please sit. We will be leaving soon, but we can’t talk on the road. Mendal is going to see to it we are watched every moment we are not within these walls.”

  “What is going on? Why am I suspected of treason?”

  “Your cousin’s informant–”

  “Tyront,” I clarified.

  “Yes, him. He has been doing his best to implicate you in your cousin’s plots against the king.”

  “How long has he been playing the madman?”

  Tomas pinned me with one of his masked looks where I couldn’t read his features, just his body language. His shoulders were tight and his movements quick and deliberate. “You don’t buy it?”

  “Not for a moment. He used to put on a similar act when we were children to entertain Orwin and his gang of thugs. I am surprised he is doing it now. Doesn’t he know I would give away the game?”

  “Perhaps that is why he is so determined to take you with him. By handing you over, he might think he will gain leniency, though he goes about it shoddily.”

  Tomas rotated his shoulder with a wince. My own muscles twinged in sympathy. “How is it healing?”

  “Well enough. Mother and Jarvin tend to fuss, but I have survived much worse.”

  Thinking of his scarred back, I nodded. “I know.”

  Lord Dentin burst through the inner curtains. “What do you know?” He threw his gloves and my knife on the table. Then he grabbed the only other chair and planted it directly across the table from me. “You, my lady, are not just a pretty face. I am not sure if your intelligence is an asset or a detriment in this case.”

  “Lay off her, Dent.”

  “I can’t. Mendal isn’t convinced she isn’t our mole. Until he is, I am going to be spending a lot of time with the two of you.”

  “What does he want?”

  “A full confession or Lord Wisten.” Dentin folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward until they rested on the table between us. “Do you know where your cousin is, my lady?”

  I met his intense scrutiny with intensity of my own. “I don’t. Until a few days ago, I last saw Orwin when he was riding away with Wisenvale’s food for the winter.”

  Dentin grunted, but didn’t look away. He examined my face, but not in the same way Tomas had. Tomas weighed value. Dentin’s regard was blatantly assessing my honesty.

  “You can’t expect her to be keeping track of his every move.” Tomas came to stand behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t, but the sooner we find Lord Wisten, the sooner she can prove her innocence.”

  “Stop dodging and weaving, Dent. Do you believe she is innocent?”

  “Yes. I am convinced as I can ever be of such things.”

  “Which means not completely.”

  A flash of exasperation passed across Dentin’s face. “Tomas, you know me. You know my skepticism makes me good at my job.”

  “That is my point. You know me. Do you suspect me of treason?”

  “Of course not. It isn’t in your nature. You are a man obsessed with loyalty and duty.”

  “Do you trust my judgment of character?”

  “Better than my own at times.” Dentin’s eyes flicked to the side as though he hated admitting that weakness in his skills.

  “Then trust me Brielle is not a traitor. She loves her people, she does her duty, and she is loyal beyond reason. She has been with me practically every moment until about a week ago. Between the time I left her and now she kept constant companionship with Jarvin or my mother. She was the one who brought the news of Jorndar’s treachery. Her efforts sent me riding to the king’s rescue. If she wanted Mendal dead why would she send me to aid him?”

  “Good point.” Dentin offered open palms in defeat. “From now on I will work from the premise that she is innocent.”

  Tomas seemed to accept this. He sat on the cot and deflated. I watched, wishing I could go to him. It didn’t feel right, though.

  Dentin glanced between us. “I hope you two aren’t going to be like some of those overly affectionate couples.”

  Tomas rubbed his forehead as though it ached. “We will try to keep it to a minimum for your sake, right Brielle?” He lifted his head to wink at me. I stared at him in confusion. My head was just wrapping itself around the idea that Dentin was a trusted ally and not a possible foe.

  “We have confused her speechless.” Dentin smiled.

  I blinked. The simple act of smiling transformed him from forbidding to approachable.

  “You just made it worse, Dent. Get out of here. I want a few moments with my wife before they pack up this tent too.”

  Dentin chuckled. “Fine, but I will expect restraint beyond these walls.” He gathered his gloves from the table. “Remember we leave in an hour.” Then he exited.

  We sat for a few moments in silence. I was afraid to look at Tomas. Being alone with him felt both familiar and strange. Part of me longed for the companionship we established in Kyrenton, but that last night together seemed so long ago.

  “Thank you.” He sounded tired.

  I chanced a glance. He watched me through inky black eyes dark and inviting, waiting. Caught in their pull, my glance became a stare. “For what?”

  “Protecting Darnay, running instead of staying to fight a losing battle, keeping your head instead of panicking—I could list more.”


  My cheeks burned. “I didn’t do it alone.”

  “I know, but my mother said you were the reason they escaped.”

  “Was Jorndar successful?”

  He closed his eyes, cutting me off. “The vargar fell, but Captain Parrian was able to get most of his men out alive.”

  “Did the captain bring the news?”

  “He was taken prisoner.”

  I remembered his sympathetic concern and feared he would not find the same in the hands of Jorndar. “Will Jorndar kill him?”

  “Not as long as Jorndar believes Parrian is withholding something of value.”

  I suddenly felt like screaming. We kept trading lives for lives. Loren and the other women were free, but now Captain Parrian suffered. I could only hope that Tatin escaped in time. I ached in ways I couldn’t relieve with movement or warmth.

  “This time Jorndar will pay for his greed with his life. The king signed his warrant of death already. Mendal is set on peace one way or another. If he cannot gain it by fealty oaths, he means to remove the cancer of rebellion by force.”

  “You do not appear to support his tactics.”

  He laughed without mirth. “I see the wisdom. I tire of being the tool used to cut out the tumor. When he handed me the title of Earl at the end of the war, I hoped that I could settle down in peace, raise a family, and learn to live without needing my sword.” Running his hands through his hair, he stood it on end. Dirt ringed his eyes like it had the morning we first met. A similar exhaustion marred his face. “Instead I am continuing as I did before. Killing, marching, politicking, and the same drudgery I endured for the past decade. I need a rest, Brielle. I am weary.”

  His face was lax with exhaustion and lined with the scars of tension. I knew there were laugh lines somewhere among the fatigue, but I couldn’t spot them.

  Without thought, I rose. He welcomed my approach with open arms, resting his face against my middle. I threaded my fingers through his curls, massaging his scalp. He relaxed against me, a pleasant weight I could easily bear.

  “It will get better,” I assured him.

  He didn’t reply except to pull me down into his lap and kiss me thoroughly. The strength of his hold on my waist and the pressure of his palm on my back, pulling me closer, told me he still needed reassurance. I willingly returned his caresses, offering assurances that no matter what the future held, we would face it together.