by J. V. Jones
Nearly three years back! All the time he’d been at Valdis, imagining his sisters were safe in the marshes, they’d been dead. The pain was unbearable: Sara and Anna dead. And for what? Two circles, one newly branded.
He looked at his circles. Only hours before they were everything to him. Now, before his eyes, they turned into marks of shame. Their price was the lives of his sisters.
Tawl unsheathed his sword. The woman made a second warding gesture and quickly moved away. Handling the sword in his left hand, he raised it high above his shoulders. Tears stung at his eyes. With one swift gesture he brought the blade down upon his arm—it sliced through both circles. The pain felt right. It was his and he would bear it. Throwing the sword as far as he could, he took up the reins and rode like a demon into the night.
* * *
Maybor awoke and felt the warmth of a body next to his. The servant girl Bonnie. She was fast asleep and looked better for it, lips firmly closed over her crooked teeth. He found he had little appetite for lovemaking and shook the girl awake. “Be off, girl, and quick about it.” She looked startled but obeyed his orders, hurriedly pulling her clothes on. Maybor, who normally liked to watch a woman dress, turned away with disinterest. When she had finished dressing, the girl coughed to get his attention, undoubtedly wanting some trinket or the promise of a further assignation. Maybor had no desire to see her again; she had been witness to his lack of performance and was therefore to be despised. He threw her a gold coin and watched with distaste as she scrambled eagerly for it.
He stood up and went to his mirror, as he did most mornings since Winter’s Eve. He checked the skin on his face: the sores had nearly disappeared now and only a slight redness remained. Although the outward signs of the poisoning had all but gone, Maybor knew his throat and lungs would never fully recover. He wheezed now when he breathed—an unpleasant sound, like an old man.
Crandle came into the bedchamber bearing his breakfast: warm buttered rolls and smoked herring. It was his favorite and he judged his servant had brought it as a small act of consolation: Crandle had been aware of his plans to betroth Melliandra to Prince Kylock. Maybor was glad that his intentions for the most part had remained secret—it would have caused him great humiliation if all the court had known about his failed attempt to marry his daughter to the heir.
“Her Highness has sent word for you to be in her chambers within the hour, my lord.”
“Very good.” The queen appeared most eager to see him; it was barely after sunup. He knew what she would try and do: she would be charming, maybe even flirt a little, asking how comfortable he found his new bed, and then she would implore him to remain loyal and support her. Maybor squashed a herring against the bread, releasing its smoky aroma. She would find him no doting lackey. He had no intention of guaranteeing his support. Let the woman fret and worry, he would no longer be at her beck and call. “Crandle,” he cried, “bring me more herring and fill me a bath.”
“But, my lord, there isn’t any time. The queen awaits.”
“Then she will have to wait a little longer.” Maybor’s tone brooked no further argument and the servant dashed off obediently.
Sometime later, when the lord was well fed and washed, he made his unhurried way to the queen’s chamber. He had taken great care with his appearance—the day before Baralis had worn his chancellor’s chain, Maybor had no such sign of office, but he did have the most fabulous collection of gold and jewels in the kingdoms. He wore a golden torc around his neck with two matching sapphires at each end, huge stones the color of midnight. There was no mistaking their value: one such stone would be worth great riches, but two, perfectly matched, was such a rarity as to set their value beyond guessing. It was well known that the queen loved sapphires more than any other stone, and they would not go unnoticed.
“Lord Maybor, I am pleased that you could come.” She held out her hand to be kissed with no sign of annoyance at being kept waiting. He took her hand but failed to bring it to his lips. Their eyes met and the queen was the first to look away. She walked a short distance from him and then spoke again. “I’m sure you were a little disappointed at hearing my announcement yesterday.” She waited, giving him a chance to deny the charge. Maybor did not speak and she was forced to continue. “I am sorry that you heard of the betrothal in such a public manner.”
“I believe you promised me I would be the first to know.” There was accusation in his voice.
“You are right, I did,” she demurred. “I can only say in my defense that events have moved swiftly.”
“You certainly wasted no time finding a replacement for my daughter.” He cared little if he sounded bitter. There was nothing to be gained by courtly manners now.
“Lord Maybor, I think you forget that your own daughter brought this misfortune down upon you. If she had not taken it upon herself to run away, then matters would be looking very different for both of us today.”
“It was Lord Baralis’ idea, was it not,” said Maybor, deliberately ignoring her words, “to betroth Kylock to Catherine of Bren?” The queen looked down at her hands; it was all the answer he needed. “Tell me, is he forcing you into this?”
“No, Lord Maybor.” The queen spoke with harsh dignity. “Lord Baralis may have suggested it, but it is my decision. No one forced my hand.”
Maybor did not doubt the queen thought she spoke the truth, but he knew Baralis had a way of compelling people to do what he wanted by making them believe it was best for them. What insidious words of persuasion had he whispered in her ear?
“I did not call you here for you to question my decision, Lord Maybor,” reprimanded the queen mildly.
Maybor had little desire to mince words. “What did you bring me here for? To secure my allegiance? My support? Maybe to try and buy them—with another jeweled bed, perhaps?”
“Lord Maybor, I undertand your acrimony, but I think it best if you hear me out before making accusations.” She looked at him levelly. “You were there when I announced that Baralis was to be envoy for Kylock in Bren.” Maybor nodded and she continued. “I want you to be the second envoy. The Crown’s envoy, representing myself and the king. I want you to travel to Bren and oversee the arrangements for the betrothal. I need not tell you I have little trust in Baralis. I would feel happier knowing that you were keeping an eye on him.” The queen paused, allowing Maybor to take stock of the offer. He was careful to show no emotion. “Of course, as Crown’s envoy your position in Bren would be superior to Lord Baralis’.” A tiny smile graced the queen’s pale lips.
This was certainly unexpected, thought Maybor. The queen was turning out to be a most ingenious woman. In one simple offer she was seeking to retain his loyalty, monitor Baralis, and very probably have Baralis monitor him. It was tempting, though; to go to Bren, to be at the forefront of such a historic event and at the same time be a source of provocation and annoyance to Baralis—the man would detest his being in Bren and loathe his superior rank.
The queen took his silence for misgiving. “Lord Maybor, I must stress the fact that I cannot let you represent the Crown in Bren unless you can assure me that you will not allow personal enmity to cloud your judgment. I am most anxious for this match to go through and will tolerate no attempts at interference.”
“Your Highness does me great honor with this proposal.” Maybor spoke plaintively, hoping to ease the queen’s doubts.
“What do you say then, Maybor?” She dropped his title in an attempt at rakishness.
“I will be pleased to serve as Crown’s Envoy in Bren.” He bowed slightly and the queen rushed over and kissed him affectionately on his cheek.
“Good. I am glad you agreed.” There was unmistakable relief on the queen’s face; she had successfully brought him back into the fold. “Here,” she said, handing him a small object. “Look upon the future queen of the Four Kingdoms.” He took it from her. It was a miniature portrait showing a picture of a golden-haired girl. She was undeniably beautiful, but a little
insipid when compared to his own daughter.
He could not bring himself to praise the girl. “When do we set off for Bren?” he asked, handing the portrait back.
“Within ten days. Baralis has already started making the arrangments.”
“It will be a hard journey. The weather is bad and there’s the Halcus to attend to.” Maybor’s mind was already racing ahead. He would have the queen agree to allow him to take some of his own men with him. He would feel safer at night knowing loyal men were around him.
“You will have an escort of five score Royal Guard.”
“I would feel happier if I could take a score of my own men.”
“Done!” The queen smiled widely, showing her small, white teeth. She moved over to a low table where a flagon of wine was waiting with two glasses. Had she been that sure of him? She saw Maybor comprehend the significance of the two glasses. “You cannot blame a woman for hoping,” she said by way of an explanation as she poured the wine.
She handed him a glass and took the other for herself. “To Bren,” she said, raising the glass. “May it prove to be a most advantageous partner.”
“To Bren,” echoed Maybor.
Jack had not slept well since the incident at the hunting lodge, but over the past two nights things had gotten worse. He had been plagued by unsettling nightmares. They were unusually vivid. He had dreams of one man stabbing another in the moonlight. Even now, in daylight, with a pale sun glimmering, he shuddered to think of the images.
They had been on the eastern road for many days. Jack was beginning to think that their pursuers had given up on them, for they had seen no signs of them in the past days and the only people that traveled the road were farmers, tinkers, and tradesmen. The road itself was now in better condition, packed snow lay firmly atop the mud, and Jack and Melli had taken to walking it now that the threat of pursuit had lessened. They still dived into the nearest ditch or bush whenever they heard a rider approaching, though.
Jack decided that the snow was probably making them harder to track—their footsteps were covered over and if the men were using dogs it would be difficult for them to follow a scent buried beneath deep snow.
Unfortunately the snow was making it increasingly difficult for them to find places to spend the night. They risked frostbite and exposure by sleeping on the ground under such conditions. Last night they’d sneaked into a dairy farmer’s barn and slept amongst the cows and hay. Melli had awakened early and found the farmer’s store of winter cheeses. The large, red wheels had looked incredibly tempting to them. Jack had not wanted to take any, but Melli had insisted, telling him that she was already a convicted horse thief and one round of cheese would make little difference. He could find no argument with that and consequently his pack was now heavier than it had been in some time.
Yesterday they had passed close to a small village. They saw the turn-off and then later the smoke above the treetops. Jack had considered slipping into the town to buy some badly needed food, but Melli had pleaded with him not to go. She was afraid, but Jack suspected it wasn’t for herself, but for him. He could understand why: she didn’t want to risk another incident. What happened to the mercenaries had shocked Melli badly. Every now and then Jack would catch her looking at him, and there was wariness on her face.
What must she think of him? Was she scared of him? He doubted that. Melli was not the type of girl to be afraid of a mere baker’s boy. But he was more than that now; she knew it, and ever since the mercenaries’ attack, she’d treated him differently. Almost with respect.
The kind of respect he’d seen hunters use on trapped bears. Jack smiled. Is that what his powers had made of him—a dangerous animal? Still, he had to admit, it was rather nice to have Melli treat him with more regard. In fact, things weren’t really that bad: he was off on an adventure to find a new life, perhaps learning something about his mother on the way, he was free from Master Frallit’s temper tantrums, and there was a beautiful girl at his side.
Jack laughed out loud: he sounded just like a hero from one of Baralis’ books. Some men might even consider him lucky.
Melli came running back at the sound of his laughter. She’d been fetching water from a stream. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll be the only hero who knows how to roll shortening.” Melli appeared so worried that he might have lost his mind, he forced himself to stop laughing. “I’m all right. I was just considering how lucky I was.”
Melli gave him a withering look. “Next time you’re considering yourself lucky, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it so loudly. You made me spill the water.” She peered into the flask, and smiling sweetly at him, she said, “At least it was only your portion that was lost.”
Brushing the snow from a fallen log, Melli sat down. “How far before we’re in Halcus territory?” she asked, munching on a wedge of cheese.
“The River Nestor is still about two days’ walk, I think.” Jack had little idea himself, but he was determined not to let Melli know that. “Once we cross that we’ll have to watch out.”
“We’re southeast of Harvell, aren’t we?” Jack nodded. “Well, last I heard most of the fighting was in the northeast.”
“Your father has lands around here?” Everybody at court knew of Maybor’s extensive land holdings.
“It wouldn’t surprise me, Jack, if we’re walking through his lands as we speak. Most people only think my father owns the land next to the river, and he did at one time, but he’s been secretly buying up land in the east for years now. Not just apple orchards, either—forest, meadow, fields.” Melli waved her arms expansively. Jack noted a touch of pride in her voice.
“Your father’s a very rich man.”
“The richest,” she stated simply.
“Do you regret leaving Harvell behind? You’ve lost so much. It’s different for me—I never had anything to start with.”
Melli sighed deeply. “I don’t know, Jack. I had much, if you mean fine gowns and fancy food; I had little, if you mean freedom. I couldn’t even walk in the garden unchaperoned.” She gave him a bittersweet smile. He decided it was time to ask her a question that had been on his mind for some time.
“Who were you to be wed to?” He watched as Melli considered whether or not to answer the question.
Finally after some time she said in a low voice, “Prince Kylock.” She looked down, drawing circles in the snow with her fingers. “That’s why Baralis wanted to capture me.”
“To force you to marry him?”
“No.” Melli shook her head and laughed. “To prevent me from marrying him.” She saw Jack’s confusion and explained further. “Baralis hates my father. He would do anything to stop him from getting nearer to the throne.”
“You could have been queen.” Jack could hardly believe it. The dark-haired girl sitting next to him on the snow-laden log looked anything but royal.
“Well, I won’t be now.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “And I can’t say that I’m sorry. Kylock was not my idea of an ideal husband. Oh, he is handsome and clever and good with a sword, and doubtless some woman will find him irresistible. I always thought he was lacking in something.” She thought for a moment. “Something basic like kindness or humanity. He was always perfectly polite but I felt as if . . .” She shook her head, unable to find the right words.
“I think I know what you mean.”
Melli looked up surprised. “You saw him around the castle?”
“Yes, sometimes he visited Baralis’ chambers.”
“Baralis friends with Kylock. That’s hard to believe.” Melli’s hand stole to her face. “Or is it? There’s something very similar about those two.”
Jack considered what she said for a moment. “You’re right. They’re both . . .” He struggled to find the right word. “. . . Secretive.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. I was thinking more of their appearances. Both tall and dark.” She shrugged. “So, what business did Kylock have in Baralis’ chambers?
”
“He was interested in Baralis’ animals.” Jack put his head down. He knew Melli wanted to hear more, but he wasn’t sure if he should go on. Sometimes he would arrive early for scribing and catch Kylock and Baralis together. The things he’d seen Kylock doing to Baralis’ creatures were sickening. Kylock liked to discover just how much he could torture an animal before it finally died on him. He would delicately stab a dove countless times, or slowly crush a mouse in the palm of his hand. Jack shuddered. The most disturbing thing of all was that Baralis just looked on, nodding his head like an indulgent father.
It was good to be free of the castle.
Melli, almost as if she guessed at the nature of Kylock’s action, said: “So you don’t blame me for running away?” She seemed to be looking for reassurance.
“No.” He placed his hand on her arm. “I would have done the same thing in your place.”
Melli smiled gently and stood up. “It’s time we were on our way. I’m just going to fill the skin up with water.” She dashed off into the trees, a small figure in a dark cloak.
Jack collected his pack together and swung it over his shoulder. Pain shot through his body. He had forgotten about his injury. He sat down for a minute to recover himself, glad that Melli was gone—he didn’t want her knowing how bad it still was. Her own wounds had healed quickly and she assumed that his had done the same. Jack’s wound was more serious: the arrow had lodged deep within his muscle, grazing the bone. He tentatively felt his shoulder. At least there was no blood—the old woman had done a good job with the needle. He stood up once more and held his pack on his other side.
He made his way along the eastern road, wondering what lay ahead. Danger for one thing: the Halcus would kill them if they realized they were from the Four Kingdoms. They’d have to keep their mouths closed; the accent of the Halcus was entirely different from their own and to speak would be to give themselves away. There was even greater danger for Melli if they found out who she was—Lord Maybor was a hated figure amongst the Halcus, and they would take cruel delight in torturing his daughter and then ransoming what remained of her.