by Sara Bell
Chapter Nine
On a half-frozen hillside just beyond the gates of Kray, a small contingent of mourners huddled against the cold and listened as Father Arden pleaded with The Creator to speed Declan on his way. Tristam and Maris stood on either side of Gareth to offer their support, but it was Alric who held Gareth's attention. Alric, who was standing all alone on the other side of Declan's pyre. Alric, who may as well have been an ocean away.
Father Arden lifted up his final prayer. “May The Creator of All take Declan into his arms and lead him through The Gates of Ascenscia to sit by His side.” Finishing the prayer with a solemn chant, Arden turned to the fire pit blazing a scant ten feet to the back side of Declan's pyre. Grasping a burning branch by its still-cool end, Arden hefted it from the pit and passed the flaming torch to Alric.
"Now may the flesh of Declan's flesh and the bone of his bone hasten him on his journey to the next life."
Instead of carrying the branch straight to the pyre, Alric held it in front of his face for a moment, studying the flame as it licked the dry wood. Gareth wondered if Alric felt a kinship to the fire, if he saw himself in its orange depths.
Whatever the case, Alric's musings didn't last long. Swinging the branch to his side, he stepped up to the pyre, touching the fiery bough to the oil doused wood at the base of the platform. The thing ignited in one sweep. Without looking back, Alric released the branch, turned, and headed for the castle.
Gareth started to go after him, but Tristam stayed him with a hand to the arm. “Not yet,” he whispered, motioning toward the gathered assembly with a jerk of his head. “At least one member of Kray's royal household has to stay until Declan's body is consumed by the fire. With Alric gone, that leaves you."
Gareth didn't like it, but he had no choice save bowing to propriety. How long they stood there waiting, Gareth couldn't say, but it seemed an eternity before Father Arden pronounced the deed done.
"And now, by the cleansing of the flame, may King Declan's soul find release. All hail The Creator."
"All hail The Creator.” As one, the mourners repeated the benediction. Just like that, the ceremony was over.
Maris hugged Gareth before turning to her husband. “If ‘tis all right with you, I'll walk on ahead with Bertrand and make arrangements for Alric's coronation feast this night."
Tristam pulled Maris close and pressed a kiss to her pink cheek. “Thank you, love. ‘Twould be most kind of you to do so."
Maris hurried ahead to speak with Bertrand while Gareth and Tristam hung back on the narrow path leading to the castle.
"You realize tonight will mark your coronation, as well.” Tristam spoke softly, but there was a world of meaning in his statement.
Gareth shook his head, the hood of his cloak slipping free. “A coronation in name only.” His next words came out as stark and cold as the wind whipping around them. “He's leaving me, Tristam."
"Leaving you?” Tristam looked as soul-shocked as Gareth felt. “What nonsense is this?"
"Yesterday, Alric made his intentions clear. He's seeking an annulment whether I like it or not."
"When did he tell you this? Just after Declan breathed his last?"
Gareth only nodded.
Tristam visibly relaxed. “For pity's sake, Gareth, ‘twas only Alric's grief talking. He'll come around. Besides, he has no grounds for annulment."
Gareth started to speak, but Tristam wouldn't let him. “Think about it for a moment. Declan persuaded the High Council to annul Alric's marriage to Denmar only because Denmar entered the union under false pretenses and misused Alric for the duration of the relationship. Alric has no grounds to dissolve his marriage with you.” When Gareth didn't readily agree, Tristam faltered. “Please tell me your marriage has been consummated."
Because Gareth couldn't comply with the request, he chose to remain silent, giving Tristam all the answer he needed.
"Have you any idea what this means?” Tristam's panic was evident. “If we lose our alliance with Kray and Denmar is allowed to marry into the House of Vale, ‘twill be the end of us all. Drystan will never survive such a war and neither will you."
The anger Gareth had been struggling to tamp down rose to the fore. “I couldn't give a bloody damn about that right now. Can't you see how Alric suffers? He's in pain, and there's nothing I can do about it."
Tristam's demeanor changed. “So you do care about him."
Gareth turned away, unable to bear the deep concern he knew he'd find in Tristam's eyes. His eyes fell on Declan's smoldering pyre, which was even worse. Declan's demise marked a death of another sort. The death of any hope Gareth had for a life with Alric.
Tristam clapped his hand on Gareth's shoulder. “The way I see it, you have two choices. Either let Alric go or find a way to make him stay."
"How?"
"Would that I knew, Gareth.” Tristam sighed. “Would that I knew."
* * * *
Alric sat in the great hall, presiding over the high table and tolerating the farce of a coronation as best he could. Scores of lesser nobles and well wishers from the surrounding villages lined the room, all waiting to pay homage to the new king. Every spare surface groaned under the weight of giant platters filled with food, while a roasting pig crackled in the fireplace.
Gareth was seated to the right of Alric, Tristam to the left. Gaily dressed servants darted in and around the crowd, filling mugs of ale and making certain no throat grew overly parched. Once assured all the celebrators had a tankard in hand, Tristam stood and raised his own cup.
"Lords, ladies, and gentle folk, tonight I have the great honor of presenting to you your new king and his consort.” He swept his hand wide to indicate Alric and Gareth. “Their majesties, Kings Alric and Gareth of Kray."
Gareth rose from his seat, leaving Alric little choice but to do the same. As one, the crowd knelt, a silent swearing of fealty to the new regime.
"Arise, good people, and enjoy the festivities your rulers have so graciously provided.” Tristam held his cup high over his head. “Long may they reign."
A cheer went through the hall, followed by a round of shouted blessings for the new heirs. From the balcony, a quartet of musicians began a raucous tune, driving those on the floor to dance. All in all, the celebration was a rousing success: loud, boisterous, and joyful.
Alric felt ill. Though he knew it was custom to rejoice in the passing of a beloved ruler on his way to the glory lands, Alric couldn't do it. He wasn't about to eat, drink, and make merry while his father's ashes lay cooling on the hillside. Without bothering to excuse himself, he quit the hall.
With no particular destination in mind, he found himself headed for the parapets. Climbing the steep ladder leading to the roof, Alric pushed open the wooden hatch and pulled himself up into the moon-shadowed night. The frigid air was thick with the coming winter, but it felt good after the heat of the hall fire. Alric embraced it.
Taking a perch against the parapet wall, he could see the whole of his father's lands in all their night-speckled glory. His lands now. The weight of it pressed against his chest, making him feel weak and breathless. Alric was so lost in the mind-boggling thoughts, he didn't realize he'd been followed until he heard the opening of the hatch.
Without turning, he knew who it was. “Go away. I've a wish to be alone."
"Seems to me you've been alone far too much lately.” Gareth's tone was mild, but the implication was clear. He wasn't going anywhere.
"I didn't ask for your opinion.” Alric was in no mood for small talk.
"You never do.” The soft thud of Gareth's boots against the stone roof signaled his approach. He stopped just behind Alric. So close, had Alric turned, he knew he'd have found himself nose to nose with his husband.
But Alric didn't turn. He stood still as a statue, facing straight ahead.
"Tristam tells me I'm to do all in my power to save this marriage.” Gareth's breath fanned the back of Alric's neck as he spoke. “I'm to keep you no matt
er the cost."
"Fears a war, does he?” Alric snorted. “Well, no matter. You can assure Tristam that Kray will back him even after our marriage is dissolved."
"You're assuming I intend to let you leave me."
Alric tried to turn, then—ready to argue his point—but Gareth stopped the motion with a firm hand on each of Alric's shoulders. “You've had your say. ‘Tis my turn now."
Alric knew nothing Gareth had to say could sway him, but he remained quiet, listening in spite of himself. Gareth cleared his throat.
"My mother, like yours, died of the fever. Only her death wasn't quick like the queen's. She lingered for months on the edge of death, improving just enough to give us hope before backsliding again into a fever-bound torment. When finally she passed, I wasn't certain whether to weep with relief or pound my chest in sorrow."
Alric was surprised to hear the exact emotions he'd felt over his father's death spring from Gareth's lips. Before he could say so, Gareth continued.
"Though it damn near broke me to let my mother go, at least I was there when she died. I was miles away, fighting on Tristam's behalf, when my father crossed over. ‘Twas months before I learned of Jarric's passing, and though it hurt, I was comforted by the fact that he'd died in his sleep, as peaceful a death as any man can ask for.” Gareth sighed. “I lost my parents when I was barely a man and foolishly thought I'd seen my fill of suffering and grief.” He dropped his hands from Alric's shoulders and took a cleansing breath. “When Kiel died, I learned the true meaning of agony. ‘Twas as if my soul was being ripped in two."
"For months I went about in a daze, not caring whether I ate or slept. The only reason I didn't kill myself was because I knew Kiel wouldn't have approved. So, I endured. ‘Twas a full year before I was finally able to sleep in the bed I'd shared with him again. The grief didn't fade, but it changed into something I could carry around with me, a noose I wore around my neck. It wasn't until I saw you that the knot loosened."
Gareth's last statement got Alric's full attention. He turned to face Gareth down. “You hated the very sight of me, and well we both know it."
"So I told myself.” Gareth shrugged. “Call it a last defense of the life I'd shared with Kiel. Whatever the case, I'm honest enough with myself to admit my feelings for you were growing long before I gave you that kiss.” Gareth stepped closer then, the heat of his body seeping into Alric's chilled skin. “You returned that kiss, Alric. Deny it all you will, but you wanted me every bit as much as I wanted you."
He had, but desire wasn't enough to make a marriage. “None of that matters. Too much lies between us."
"Only because you allow it.” Gareth gripped Alric's arms. “Hide behind your reasoning—be a stubborn fool—but you won't escape me. If you need proof of that, here."
Alric had no time to react as Gareth mashed his lips hard against Alric's own. Unlike the brief passion they'd shared at Hume, there was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was raw, possessive, and left Alric a quivering mess when Gareth at last pulled away.
Gareth swiped his thumb over Alric's lips. “Think about that as you write your useless annulment petition.” Without waiting for a response, he strolled back to the hatch, whistling as he went.
* * * *
Gareth came downstairs to break his fast, strangely hopeful that his talk with Alric had done some good. Leastwise, he prayed it had. He was running out of ideas.
Grabbing a trencher of food from a passing servant, Gareth took the place next to Tristam at the table. Maris, on Tristam's other side, tilted her head to study Gareth as he tore a hunk from a loaf of brown bread.
"You disappeared last night during the feast. You and Alric both."
Tristam lifted a brow and was about to comment when Alric entered the hall. Gareth offered him a seat, but Alric shook his head. “I've no time. I'm riding into the hills to scatter my father's ashes today."
Gareth took that as a good sign. It was the first time Alric had shown an interest in venturing from the castle grounds since he came home and found his father near death. “I'll go with you, then. Merrick's legs could use a good stretching."
Alric was shaking his head before Gareth even finished. “I must do this alone."
"You can't think to leave the keep unescorted.” The very thought was obscene.
"Of course not. Wycaster and a half dozen of his best men will guard me. No one would dare attack us this close to Kray land. Besides, the watchmen will see if an enemy approaches."
Gareth bit back a sigh. So much for hoping he'd gotten through to Alric last night. He gave a curt nod. “So be it. Have a safe journey."
Alric hesitated as if he were about to speak, but in the end he only returned Gareth's nod and left the hall. Gareth turned back to a concerned Maris and Tristam. “If you'll excuse me, I fear I've lost my appetite."
"I understand,” Tristam said. “If you need me, I am here."
Tristam's sympathy was as hard to take as Alric's rejection. Gareth murmured an acknowledgment and headed for the training yard where he spent the next two hours sparring with any soldier brave enough to take him on. It wasn't until every last one of the exhausted men begged off that Gareth allowed himself a break. He was leaning against the arsenal shed, catching a much needed breath when the alarm sounded. Gareth's heart leapt into his throat as he raced from the gates.
Tristam met him there. “Are we under attack?"
His question was answered when the gates opened and a bruised and bloodied Wycaster staggered in. Gareth caught him just as he fell to the ground.
He tried to be gentle as he stretched Wycaster full onto the dirt, but worry made his hands rough and shaky. “What happened to you? Where's Alric?"
Wycaster struggled for breath as one of the men ran for water. “Ambushed ... at first hill. Too many ... to fight."
Tristam knelt beside him. “Where are the men who rode out with you?"
"Dead ... wounded. Not sure. Must get reinforcements ... save King Alric."
"Save Alric from what?” Gareth clutched Wycaster's tunic in desperation, afraid the commander would black out before giving him what he needed. “Where is he?"
"Captured.” Wycaster coughed, the spasm racking his entire body.
"By whom, Wycaster? Who has Alric?"
"Your brother...” Wycaster's voice came out a harsh rasp. “Nadar of Vale."
Chapter Ten
Just as the men took an injured Wycaster up to Balthazar for tending, a lone horseman wearing Vale's colors approached the gates. He was unarmed and sported the felted red cap of a messenger. Gareth signaled the watchmen to let him through.
The messenger, a lad of no more than sixteen summers, trembled slightly as he dropped from his horse and knelt at Gareth's feet.
"Stand up, boy.” Gareth's command came out a feral growl. “You've a message from your master?"
"Yes, Sire.” The boy stood and handed Gareth a square of parchment. Gareth tore through the seal, sending bits of wax flying. Scanning the missive, he nodded once and then tossed the paper to the ground.
"Tell your king I agree to his terms. Now leave us. You have my word no one will follow you."
The boy nodded and scrambled to his horse. Tristam picked the parchment up from the ground and swore a vicious curse as he read what Gareth had agreed to.
"Are you insane? You must be if you think I'll allow you to go through with this."
Gareth made a move to walk around him. “You can't stop me, Tristam."
Tristam shot out a hand to block Gareth's exit, prompting Gareth to turn on him with savage fury. “Listen to me, Tristam, because I'll only say this once. Nadar has made his position clear. Either I ride out to meet him alone, or Alric dies. I know my brother, and if this is about that petition I sent to the High Council regarding Sonya's marriage, I've no doubt Nadar is angry enough to carry out his threat. You may be willing to gamble with Alric's life, but I'm not."
"So you're going to trade your life for Alric's?"
"If I have to."
Tristam let out a ragged breath. “Is there a damned thing I can do to stop you?"
"No.” Just one word, but firm and final, nonetheless.
"So be it. My men and I will ride with you as far as the border."
"Tristam—"
"Don't argue with me, Gareth. If you insist on riding off to your death, the least I can do is give you a proper sendoff."
Gareth slanted his brows. “Swear you won't try to stop me."
"I won't interfere, but I'll be close by if you need me."
Tristam's argument was too sound for Gareth to defend against. With the utmost sincerity, he said, “Thank you, Tristam. I owe you a great debt."
Tristam crossed his arms over his chest. “Here's hoping you live long enough to repay me."
* * * *
A quiet party set out for the hills bordering Kray, using the clear trail left by Nadar's messenger as a guide. Maris's protests still rang in Gareth's ears. She'd begged the both of them not to go, but not even her tears had swayed them. Gareth and Tristam rode in the lead with more than a hundred soldiers flanking and following them.
Several times Tristam opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again before the words came out. Gareth thought that just as well. He was in no mood for conversation.
The hill country was obscenely pretty given the circumstances under which Gareth was seeing it. Though no snows had yet fallen, the naked trees sparkled with a thin layer of early winter frost, making them look more like fine sculptures than works of natural creation. The pale afternoon sun peeked through the branches, casting haunting patterns on the short, brittle grass. Gareth made a mental note to show Alric the cool beauty of it all once he was safe. And he would be. Gareth would accept nothing less.
As they neared the border, Gareth reined Merrick to a stop. “I see no sign of the wounded soldiers. Shouldn't we have encountered them by now?"
Tristam stopped beside him. “I was wondering the same thing. Perhaps they doubled back to the castle."
"Then why didn't we encounter them on the road? Granted, I'm not familiar with this territory. ‘Tis possible there's an alternate route to Kray from here, but it makes no sense wounded men would favor a back way over a straight path."