The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two

by Gail Z. Martin

  “Alle and Lady Eadoin,” Kiara responded. “There’s no one else I’d trust with Cwynn except Mikhail, and he’ll have his hands full minding the castle.”

  “I appreciate your trust, m’lady, but I fear I have very little experience with babies,” Mikhail said gently. “I will do everything in my power to keep Shekerishet safe and running smoothly until you—and Tris—return.”

  “I’ll send for Alle and Eadoin tonight,” Cerise said. “Within the candlemark. We’ll also have to speak with the mages the king left behind to watch over Cwynn. They need to know that the danger from Isencroft has risen to a new level.”

  Retreating into the distance of strategy and logistics made it possible for Kiara not to break down. There would be time for grief later, and for the rest of her life. Now, the future of two kingdoms was on the line. Never before had Kiara felt more powerless.

  “There’s something else you must factor into your plans, Kiara,” Cerise said, fixing Kiara with her gaze. “While you can leave Cwynn in Margolan, there’s no helping the fact that the other heir goes where you go.” She glanced pointedly at Kiara’s belly, where the new pregnancy, just a few weeks along, had not yet begun to show.

  “Allestyr doesn’t know,” Kiara murmured. “I didn’t want to worry father, so Tris and I agreed that I would wait a few months before I told him. There hasn’t even been time for a regular courier to carry the news, if I had intended to announce it.”

  Cerise nodded. “For the best, perhaps. You’re already a valuable target. There are some, in both kingdoms, who would prefer there to be no new heir.”

  Kiara shivered. She knew too well how right Cerise was. Earlier that year, a well-placed traitor within Shekerishet had very nearly managed to assassinate both Kiara and the unborn child, Cwynn, which she carried. While the attack had been foiled through the heroic action of Master Bard Carroway and Macaria, the poisoned blade had still managed to sicken Kiara dangerously during the last months of her pregnancy, and the effect of the wormroot poison on Cwynn was yet to be known. “I take one child with me, I leave one behind, but none of us is safe,” Kiara said in a hushed voice. She rallied, willing herself to square her shoulders.

  “There’s no other choice. Cwynn must stay here, and I must go to Isencroft.”

  “Cerise, I know little of childbirth, as I’ve just admitted,” Mikhail said. “But should Kiara ride, given the circumstances? Antoin made the journey in a few days because he’s vayash moru, but at a swift pace, two weeks is the fastest Kiara can hope to reach Aberponte, and a carriage would take even longer.”

  I risk the kingdom if I move in greatest safety, and the baby if I move with speed, Kiara thought miserably.

  Cerise looked thoughtful for a moment. “Granted, Kiara had a difficult time of it with Cwynn. But that may have been because Cwynn was special from the start.” She met Kiara’s eyes. “You and everyone else have been blaming the wormroot on that damned knife for Cwynn’s ‘differences,’ and that may have a grain of truth to it. But this pregnancy is already going more smoothly than it did the last time. Perhaps Cwynn’s ‘differences’ also made your pregnancy so difficult, and the fact that you’ve had an easier start to it this time bodes well for what you now find yourself called to do.”

  “So what you’re saying—”

  “What I’m saying is that I believe you can ride swiftly, with precautions. And of course, I plan to ride with you.” Cerise crossed her arms and set her jaw. Kiara knew from a lifetime of experience that Cerise’s decision in the matter was not open to debate, or to the fiat of a queen.

  “I’ll choose from among the Telorhan guards myself,” Mikhail said. “And I’ll add a few of the vayash moru—those I can vouch for personally—to your guard.” He smiled, making his eye teeth plain. “You may not be able to take guardsmen with you into Isencroft, but vayash moru and vyrkin wear no uniform. I’ll rest better knowing that you’re guarded by some of our own, going into such a dangerous situation.”

  “Thank you,” Kiara murmured. “It’s just so much to take in, all at once.”

  “Antoin and I have preparations to make before dawn,” Mikhail said, with a glance toward their visitor. “I’ll bring you a report at nightfall. How soon do you plan to leave for Isencroft?”

  Kiara caught her breath. What had been unthinkable a few candlemarks ago was now a foregone conclusion, and an urgent one at that. “It depends on how quickly we can make arrangements for Cwynn, and how soon I can be packed.” She shook her head. “Packing shouldn’t take long, not with the circumstances. I’ll need a plain tunic and trews to blend in on the road, and provisions. Almost everything else Cam and Allestyr will have for me in Isencroft.” She paused. “Mikhail, can you please send a messenger right away to Alle and Eadoin at Brightmoor?”

  “As you wish, m’lady.”

  Cerise gave a comforting smile. “I’ll come to help you pack necessities. It might be best to leave after dark tomorrow, to reduce suspicions. We should have everything arranged by then.”

  “We haven’t even talked about how to handle this with the Margolan court,” Kiara said, feeling breathless. “This isn’t going to go over well, I’m afraid. I suspect Margolan’s nobles assumed that when I married Tris, I left Isencroft behind for good, despite all the talk about a ‘dual throne’ and a ‘joint heir.’ It’s entirely one thing to bandy such terms about; it’s another to see your queen ride off for another kingdom when the king’s gone to war.”

  Mikhail grimaced. “The timing is bad; no doubt about it. On the other hand, if we weren’t at the brink of war, the situation wouldn’t have arisen at all.”

  “We have no idea how long I’ll be gone, or when Tris will return. And no matter how we explain it, there will be some gossips who will say that I’ve abandoned my husband, my child, and my vows to Margolan and run for home.”

  Cerise sighed. “I’m afraid you’re right, and what’s more, I don’t know that there’s anything we can do to keep that from happening. You’re likely to be gone months, not days. We can say that you’ve taken to your bed with the pregnancy. After the last time, it will be what people expect. That might buy us some time.”

  Mikhail nodded. “The fewer people who know the truth the better, at least for a while. I have a few ideas, but I need until tomorrow to pull what I need together.” He glanced at Antoin. “Come with me. We have a lot to do.”

  For a few moments after Mikhail and Antoin left, it was quiet. Kiara stared down at the parchment in her hands. One letter changes everything. And how will I tell Tris?

  Cerise patted Kiara’s hand. Kiara turned to see a sad smile on the healer’s face. “Skrivven for your thoughts.”

  Kiara shook her head. “I’m afraid there are too many thoughts for just one skrivven,” she said quietly.

  “If it’s any consolation, your mother faced these kinds of decisions many times.”

  Kiara gave a harsh chuckle. “I doubt she faced quite this same set of choices.”

  Cerise’s gaze seemed far away. “Perhaps not. Then again, when she was pregnant with you, her father, King Radomar, demanded that she return to Eastmark and raise you there.”

  “Radomar can’t have expected her to obey.”

  “Kings become quite used to expecting every order to be followed. He not only demanded that Viata return to Eastmark; he sent agents to take her by force.”

  “He had to realize that kidnapping the queen of Isencroft—and the heir—would start a war. He could have sent the entire Winter Kingdoms into war!”

  Cerise shrugged. “From your grandfather’s perspective, it was Donelan who had done the kidnapping, and since Radomar never recognized the wedding as legitimate, he considered her pregnancy to be tantamount to rape.”

  Kiara gasped. “What happened?”

  “As you can imagine, Donelan and Viata had no intention of doing what Radomar demanded. King Bricen in Margolan had done all he could with the betrothal contract to avert one war. So Donelan had no one to tur
n to among the kings for help. But your father was a clever man,” Cerise said.

  “He declared that the remaining months in your mother’s pregnancy should be considered a festival in her honor, and he spent a fortune in gold to bring minstrels and merchants with Eastmark goods to Isencroft. It became fashionable for Isencroft women to wear the silk clothing your mother preferred, and to copy her style of jewelry. Not only that, but the good women of Isencroft actually began to tint their fair skin with teas and berry juice to make them nearly the same ebony color as Viata!”

  Kiara chuckled, glancing down at her hands. Her own skin was much lighter than her mother’s pure Eastmark coloring, more the shade of kerif with cream. “But how did that help? The Eastmark agents had only to look in the palace to find mother.”

  “That’s where I’m certain you’re truly Viata’s daughter, in nerve as well as fact. Donelan hid Viata with a troupe of traveling Eastmark performers who were wintering in the countryside. One of the lesser nobles was glad to play a part in the ruse and opened his manor to the troupe for the winter. Radomar’s agents were searching a city full of Viata look-alikes, while your mother was leagues away, sheltered in an unremarkable country home passing herself off as a disgraced actress.”

  Kiara managed to smile at the audacity of the ploy, but the smile soon faded. “I can’t bear to think about leaving Cwynn,” she said quietly. “I have a duty as queen and heir, but my heart tells me I have a duty as a mother, too. He’s so small, so vulnerable, and there are so many dangerous things afoot right now. How can I leave him, maybe for months, when we still don’t know for certain what troubles his sleep or why he might be important to the war?”

  Cerise refilled Kiara’s cup and held the steaming tea out to her. “Cwynn would be a pawn in the war no matter what because he’s the heir. It complicates matters for both you and Tris to be far away, but again, you’re not the first royal parents to make difficult decisions for the sake of your kingdoms.”

  “I know. And I’ll do what I must. But I don’t have to like it,” Kiara said softly. Jae stirred in her lap and Kiara scratched the gyregon lightly under its throat. With a trill, Jae settled himself and went back to sleep.

  Cerise shook her head. “No, my dear. You don’t have to like it.”

  Lady Eadoin and Alle arrived by noon the next day. Alle, Lady Eadoin’s niece and the recent bride of General Ban Soterius, was quick to greet Kiara with the exuberance of an old friend. Jae, Kiara’s gyregon, stirred from his customary spot near the hearth to greet the visitors and presented himself for attention, preening as Alle bent down to stroke his scaly neck.

  “Your Majesty,” Alle said solemnly with a mischievous glint in her eye as she curtsied low. She bounded up and clasped Kiara in a tight hug that was returned with equal vigor. “It’s so good to see you, Kiara! We came as quickly as we could when Mikhail’s messenger told us what was going on.”

  Alle’s blonde hair was pinned up after the fashion popular among noble ladies, as befitting the wife of a general who was also one of the king’s best friends. But Kiara knew that Alle much preferred to have her wild curls down, and that any appearance of sedate acceptability was merely a performance for onlookers. During the war to take back the throne from Jared the Usurper, Alle had left the comfort and relative safety of Eadoin’s estate to join the Resistance, passing herself off successfully as a barmaid to spy against Jared’s soldiers.

  “It’s wonderful to see both of you. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.” For the first time in many weeks, Kiara felt a genuine rush of pleasure.

  Lady Eadoin chuckled quietly. She walked with a cane, moving slowly across the room. In her day, Eadoin had been one of the most sought-after beauties at the Margolan court, and even now remained a staunch patron of music and art. Both Eadoin and Alle had been among Kiara’s loyal protectors amid the court intrigue when Tris besieged Lochlanimar, and they had become the queen’s closest friends.

  “Good to see you as well, my dear. Came as soon as we could. My people at Brightmoor will send the rest of our things along.” Eadoin’s voice, though reedy, was full of dry humor. “I’m a bit old for saving the kingdom, but I’ll do my best.”

  Eadoin made as deep a curtsey as age allowed, and Kiara lifted her with a gentle grip on both hands to stand before warmly embracing the dowager. “I’m so glad you’ve come,” Kiara murmured.

  Eadoin regarded Kiara with a knowing look. “As one grows older, the opportunities for clandestine adventure become few and far between. One must never pass up such rarities when they occur.”

  Kiara patted Jae’s head and the gyregon lumbered over to rub against Alle’s ankles, catlike. Jae’s mouth opened in contentment, baring his sharp teeth. Around the palace, Jae might pass for a pampered pet, but Kiara had seen the gyregon in his true role as a hunting and battle companion and knew that a well-trained gyregon put even the best falcons to shame.

  Cerise joined them after half a candlemark. She brought Cwynn with her and handed the already-fussing baby to Kiara. “Meet Cwynn,” Kiara said in a voice that mingled both pride and exasperation. “And yes, he’s always like this.”

  Alle and Eadoin murmured the expected pleasantries, as Cerise helped Kiara loosen the bodice of her gown so that Cwynn could nurse.

  “He looks quite healthy, with good lungs,” Alle observed as Cwynn finally quieted down to eat. “So the wormroot had no effect?”

  Kiara sighed. “We’re still not sure. There are so many things that have been unusual, not the least the way he seems to be affected by magic in ways that even Tris doesn’t understand. As far as we know, Cwynn has no magic of his own. I wouldn’t expect him to; he’s far too young.

  “He stymies every attempt Tris has made to read his life force, yet Cheira Talwyn of the Sworn believes that Cwynn has great power. She thinks at least some of this fussing is because he hears something in the magic, something the rest of us don’t. Something that might even be related to the invaders from the north.” Kiara began to gently stroke Cwynn’s downy hair. “He’s already seen far too much excitement for just a babe, and I’m afraid it’s only the beginning.”

  “We gathered from Mikhail’s note that your rather sudden journey would require some special help with the baby,” Eadoin said, clearing her throat. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing with us one of my ladies’ maids, a lovely young girl by the name of Verley, who is a new mother herself. She’s brought her own baby with her, as she’s nursing, you see. Verley’s mother and grandmother have been part of my household for their entire lives, and I trust them implicitly. Soul of discretion. So if part of your concern comes from worrying that the child will go hungry, Verley is amply prepared to meet his needs along with her own child’s.”

  Kiara felt a wave of gratitude and relief, followed by a cold pang of jealousy at the thought of sharing so intimate a moment as nursing with a total stranger. You don’t have the luxury to begrudge this, she chided herself. It’s the price of the crown.

  “Part of me wishes I dared send him away to Brightmoor, safely out of the palace,” Kiara murmured.

  Alle and Eadoin exchanged glances. “I remember what happened when we tried to move you someplace we thought would be safer,” Alle said. “That didn’t work out well. The assassin still found us. Let’s stay here at Shekerishet this time.”

  Kiara shivered. “I agree.”

  Kiara felt something rustle against her skirts and looked down to see Tris’s two favorite wolfhounds stirring. The dogs paused for a friendly sniff at the nursing baby, and then greeted Alle and Eadoin as old friends, with their long tails wagging. Kiara knew that wherever the two wolfhounds went, so went the ghost of a mastiff, the third of their “pack,” unseen by everyone but Tris.

  Cwynn ate with gusto, and Kiara cradled him against herself fiercely. Alle and Eadoin talked merrily about the recent harvest and the news from Brightmoor, Eadoin’s estate. But while Kiara smiled and nodded, it was a struggle to swallow back her tears.
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  I don’t want to leave Cwynn, kingdoms be damned! Look how small he is, she thought as one of Cwynn’s tiny hands curled around her finger. She closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of Cwynn’s small body against her flesh, trying to permanently sear the feeling of his eager suckling into her memory. Who will watch over him, if neither Tris nor I return from war? Kiara felt a stab of pain at the thought. She stroked Cwynn’s back gently, letting her fingers memorize the feel of his smooth skin and his downy hair.

  Finally, Cwynn ended his meal with a contented sigh and nestled against Kiara, eyes fluttering closed in sleep. Kiara watched the even rise and fall of Cwynn’s chest, and when the nurse came to take him from her, Kiara shook her head.

  “You’ll have months to hold him when I’m gone,” she whispered. “I only have tonight.”

  Alle brought a shawl to cover Kiara’s shoulders and Kiara shifted enough to permit the return of her bodice to a more modest position. In her arms, Cwynn mewled softly and then settled into slumber. For a few moments, no one spoke, and all eyes were on the sleeping prince.

  “The thought of riding into battle doesn’t terrify me,” Kiara said quietly, eyes still fixed on Cwynn. “No more than it should for any rational being. I’ve seen battle before, and I’ve been trained for it since I could hold a sword.”

  She shook her head. “Leaving Isencroft, seeing Tris ride off for war—each time I thought my heart would break.” Tears welled up and she struggled for composure. “Father’s death would be enough of a blow. Taking the crown in the middle of an invasion and a civil war troubles me, but it’s a military exercise. It can be done. But leaving Cwynn,” she said, and her voice caught. “I feel as if leaving Cwynn behind will stop my blood and take my breath.” She looked up at Alle and Eadoin. “There’s no other course, Goddess help me. But right now, I don’t know how to survive it all.”