by Ellyn, Court
Kieryn cast Laniel a quizzical frown, but the dranithi only grinned. No snide remarks? This was strange, indeed.
A woman called from a balcony, “Arghel uhv ola, mithiel syld’ivrin!” and Kieryn translated, “Blessing upon you, generous peacemaker.” What was he to say to that? He raised an uncertain hand and hurried on. This was the first time he’d been lauded for anything other than violence, and it was his mother’s doing. He would have to remember to thank her.
~~~~
51
A pair of gray swifts followed Kieryn from the northern edge of the Wood to the walls of Helwende. Had ogres, shadows, or assassins been lurking in the vicinity, Laniel would have known within moments and come to his aid, but Kieryn reached the inn without mishap. He purchased a round of oats and a stall for Sarvana and planned to wait till morning to climb to Windgate Pass, but while he warmed himself with an ale in the common room he overheard a trader talking with the innkeeper. “They say she threw herself into the sea, so great was her grief,” the trader said.
“Pitiful, that,” said the innkeeper, shaking his balding head. “Don’t s’pect I understand highborns much, but females is females, and Evaronna needs a duke, not a duchess. Crying over her da like that proves she ain’t got the mettle. And now, with the war and all—”
Kieryn slapped down his tankard, caught the innkeeper’s eye, and beckoned him over. “What’s this about the Lady Rhoslyn?”
“Er, Duchess Rhoslyn now,” the innkeeper said, eyeing his guest’s strange, rich robe. “The duke finally met the Mother.”
“When?”
The innkeeper read Kieryn’s distress and adopted a more respectful manner. “Eight, nine days ago, m’ lord. Rumored to be some dark business involved, though I’ve heard no hard details.”
“Thank you, but I’ll not be staying the night, after all. Can you have my horse brought around?” The innkeeper told him Windgate Pass was clear but added that the weather was expected to change. Luckily, a pair of full moons rose early from the eastern meadows and shone so brightly that travelers needed no lantern.
Clouds overcame the moons on the downward side, however, and Kieryn arrived at Vonmora in the middle of the night with snow in his hair. Lord Davhin’s head steward met him with a torch at the main gate and confirmed the innkeeper’s report. Desperate as Kieryn was to reach Windhaven, Sarvana needed rest after climbing the mountain in the dark. “Wake me at dawn, man, and don’t be late,” he demanded, but he couldn’t sleep. His brain refused to rest. Hadn’t he felt some misgiving? Yes, his first day back at Ilswythe. Ah, Rhoslyn … he never should’ve left. By the time the steward knocked on his door to wake him, Kieryn was in the stables saddling Sarvana. They raced alongside the Liran and reached the ferry by noon. With Rygg aboard a pirate ship in Fieran waters, Kieryn asked for details from the man hired to replace him, but he was just as vague as the innkeeper. “Strange it was, they say, m’ lord, but they won’t say, if you catch my meaning.” He was more intrigued by the mystery than he was in commanding his oarsmen. The ferry crawled.
Atop the cliff, the palace looked untroubled. The banners of Liraness flew high on the towers, and the Beacon fires burned brightly. When he arrived at the gate, the sentries announced his arrival. Rhoslyn was waiting for him in the Grand Corridor. She seemed so small, her eyes wide and rabbit-like, her face pale.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her in his arms. “I didn’t learn what happened till yesterday.” For an instant, she resisted him, tried to draw back, then her resentment wilted, and she sagged, releasing a shuddering sob. Over her head, Kieryn found his brother peering at them from around a corner. Kelyn ducked away, peeked again; sure he’d been seen, he approached cautiously, as if afraid to intrude. “You’re back so soon,” he said.
Despite his delays? Yes, he supposed Kelyn thought Mother would need him close for a long time. “Mother is strong,” he said. “She wouldn’t let me stay longer.”
“Where does that strength come from?” Rhoslyn wailed.
One servant and another played Kelyn’s game, peeking from doorways, vanishing again.
“Shh,” Kieryn quieted. “Here, come in here.” He coaxed her into a receiving parlor where he poured her a glass of brandy. She swirled it only briefly, barely warming it, then gulped it down, cringing at the sweetness. He helped her to a chair, knelt beside her, and asked, “What happened? No one could tell me anything. Was it another stroke?”
Her face crumpled, but she held back further sobs.
Kelyn eased a step closer. “It was something … else.”
“A shadow,” Rhoslyn blurted.
Kieryn’s heart stuttered. “What do you mean ‘ shadow’? The rágazeth was here?”
Rhoslyn squinted at him. “You … you know what it was?”
Kieryn sank into a chair, eyes tight shut. “It was coming after me.”
“Zellel mentioned it might have gotten you, too.”
“I saw it from a distance, but … no, it didn’t catch up to me. Goddess curse him, Lothiar is responsible for this.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” Kieryn was no longer confused over how he felt about the Elari who sought his blood. It was Lothiar who had better be on his guard. If I find him I’ll kill him, and no assassin will do it for me.
“We tried to stop it,” Kelyn was saying. “Zellel attacked it and that’s when it went for Harac.”
“I don’t understand,” Rhoslyn said. “Why would this thing be after you? Why did it kill my father instead?” She sounded angry at Kieryn for surviving when her father hadn’t.
“It exists to destroy,” he said gently. “Your father made an easy target. I can’t tell you the rest without breaking a promise I made.”
Kelyn frowned. “Used to, you could tell me anything. I don’t like the idea of my brother being involved with these mysterious dark powers.
“I’m sorry,” Kieryn said with a shrug. “But it’s crucial I speak to Zellel about it.”
“He’s gone, too,” Rhoslyn said.
“The rágazeth didn’t take him—?”
“No. He felt to blame, so he left us. I don’t know where he is now. Middle of the Great Fire Sea, I expect. He … wait here. I’ll be back.” She rose and hurried from the parlor.
Kieryn couldn’t believe it. He might not need Zellel to protect him against Lothiar or the rágazeth, but who would teach him more about the potential sleeping inside of him?
No, it didn’t matter now. He knew enough to control it. To hide it. He remembered the resolutions he’d made in Aerdria’s garden, and they hurt as much now as then. He couldn’t have it all, he realized. Rhoslyn, the freedom to be avedra, Azhdyria, his Elaran friends, the home of his childhood, the home where he was destined to live out his days. He had to choose. Only now, he felt as if the choices were being made for him.
Rhoslyn returned, carrying Zellel’s staff. “He left this for you. He hoped it would serve you better.”
Cruel. The only way to describe an irony like this. He turned to stare out the window. The sunlight shone with obscene happiness in the yellow courtyard. “I’ve earned it, but I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“It’s not the proper scepter for a duchess’s consort.”
Rhoslyn didn’t reply. Kieryn took her silence to mean she understood. If she didn’t, it didn’t matter.
Perhaps trying to lighten the air, Kelyn came close and asked, “How did you earn it?”
Rising flames, yawning earth, dancing lightning, sickening screams. “I killed them,” he said.
“Who?” Kelyn laid a hand on his shoulder. It was a touch of sympathy. When Kieryn learned he had killed a man during the Assembly, he’d been devastated, after all. But Kelyn’s sympathy was unnecessary now.
“Fierans came with Zhiani allies to destroy Ilswythe. One hundred and fifty of them.”
“But who did you kill?” Kelyn pressed.
“All of them.”
K
elyn’s hand slid away. “Goddess …”
“It lasted only minutes. They didn’t even reach the front gate.” He didn’t mean it as a boast. Merely the facts.
Kelyn laughed, astonished, delighted. “Come south when I leave. We need you.”
The sunlight dimmed on the yellow stone. Without looking northward, Kieryn felt a cold bank of cloud barreling down the coast. Snow, and the end of autumn.
“Can’t, thanks.” He had to bury the avedra part of himself. He would find out liars and thieves for Rhoslyn, protect her alone, and that was all.
“Look, I don’t want to sound like Da, but I wish you’d reconsider. Uncle Allaran and King Rhorek could use your help.”
“Heard about Bramoran, did you?” Kieryn said, grinning.
“Damn, I wish I’d been there. I was packing to head that way when you arrived.”
“Bit soon, isn’t it? You should still be wearing the sling, for the Goddess’ sake, not handling the reins of a warhorse.”
Kelyn waved away the notion as ridiculous. “To prove I’m fine, I’m gonna go finish packing. I can make it to Vonmora by midnight.” He hurried from the parlor.
Rhoslyn exhaled. She had propped the staff against the sideboard, poured herself another brandy, and returned to her chair. Kieryn went to her side and brushed a wisp of golden fringe from her face. “I wish I could carry some of this pain for you.”
“I’ll be all right. One day.”
“On our own, we might be cowards, but together we’re brave enough to handle it. Right?” He kissed her hand.
“We,” she echoed, offering a sad smile. “I knew I missed you for a reason. Kieryn … marry me right now. Not in the spring, right now.”
He choked, incredulous. “But all those plans. My mother wants to be here, and Etivva is to give the rites.”
“Please, Kieryn, let’s not wait. Your brother is here, and Captain Drael will serve in Etivva’s place. He’s the highest ranking officer still with us.”
Kieryn supposed her father’s death had changed her perspective about what mattered, things that could wait, things that couldn’t. He shrugged. “If this is what you want—”
“It is.” Her arms wrapped around him so tightly, so insistently, that his regrets over giving up everything for her shrank to a shadow.
He’ll never know.
She leapt from the chair. “I’ll tell Aunt Halayn and send for Drael.” Hurrying for the door, she seemed so excited. Then came that wayward thought again, declared in all but words, like a shout of joy: He’ll never know.
“Wait,” he said.
She stopped, hesitated, then turned with a receptive smile. It was a replica of the one she put on for Halayn, Rilyth, even Rorin. The one she used to conceal her true feelings. “No cold feet now,” she said. A shallow jest.
For a long moment he watched her, and, sure enough, her smile grew brittle and her glance darted away.
“What will I never know, Rhoslyn?”
“What?” He might’ve told her the shadow was back and looking for her, so undisguised was the fear in her eyes.
“How happy this makes you?”
“Yes.” She looked anything but happy. She wrung her hands and eased toward the corridor, as near to panic as he’d ever seen her. She masked it with anger. “You lied! You said you would never spy on my thoughts!”
“I didn’t,” he said, bewildered. “Some thoughts are so loud I don’t have to listen for them.”
“How can I ever trust you?”
“Why should you hide anything from me?”
She spun for the corridor. “I’m sending for Drael.”
“Don’t.” He caught her by the wrist, gently, until she tried to pull away. His grip tightened and he put himself in the doorway. “If you can’t trust me, we need to talk about things. Now.”
She backed away from him. “You’re just tired. You’re not thinking straight.”
“Me?” Perhaps he was tired from riding so far so fast, but he was sure he’d interpreted her meaning correctly. Rhoslyn not trust him? What had he done? He’ll never know. No, it wasn’t something he had done. Rhoslyn tried to hide her secret behind a cloud of thoughts: Not important. Father shadow funeral pyre fire Kelyn, no, not important. A mistake, not important. Father duty, so much to do, ships sea fire ashes fire kisses, no. He’ll never know.
Her breathing came in short, fast pants, like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk. She didn’t only distrust him, she was terrified of him. Kieryn cupped her face in his hands. “Rhoslyn, you’re breaking my heart. I don’t understand.”
“Who has the cold feet, eh?” she said, on the verge of tears. She laughed at herself and took hold of his hands. With her touch, the image of a roaring hearth-fire sparked behind his eyes. A face that might’ve been his, but wasn’t quite. And her hands. They weren’t pushing him away. No, they were grasping, touching, exploring.
Kieryn shoved her away. He glanced up at the ceiling, where Kelyn had gone to pack. He wouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Kieryn found himself in the Grand Corridor with Rhoslyn dragging on his sleeve. “No, you don’t understand. It wasn’t—”
He shook her off.
“What are you going to do?” she cried.
“Stay here,” he commanded, because he wasn’t sure himself.
~~~~
Kelyn eased into his black surcoat, trying not to pull his shoulder too fast. Now when he needed Eliad most, the boy was well over a hundred fifty miles away. He hoped the boy was safe. So many responsibilities neglected. He didn’t look forward to the tongue-lashing he was in for. Better to face Jareg’s wrath and Lissah’s and Eliad’s than lurk around Windhaven any longer. Damn, Kieryn wasn’t supposed to be back already. One more day and he could’ve avoided his brother until this mess was well in the past.
A cool, quiet voice came from the threshold. “Explain something to me.”
Kelyn whirled. His brother looked like Da when he had received bad news. Kelyn’s stomach dropped. He faked it. “Explain what?”
“The things I glimpsed in Rhoslyn’s head.”
“How should I know what you saw in her head?” He sounded too belligerent. “She’s been upset all week.”
“And you were here to comfort her.” Kieryn closed in on him like a snow cat stalking, eyes like frost.
Kelyn gulped. His throat was as dry as sand. “Look, I don’t like where you’re going with this—”
“What happened while I was gone, brother? And I don’t mean shadows.”
Kelyn sagged and dropped all pretenses. “What did she tell you?”
“No, you tell me what she told me.”
“Ah, Goddess, Kieryn. I don’t know what happened.”
“You’re a liar!”
The air sizzled with static. The hairs on Kelyn’s arms tingled with it. “Listen, damn it. The night of the duke’s burning, I took poppy wine and washed it down with half a bottle of Doreli red. I don’t remember what happened! Two days later Rhoslyn told me, but I couldn’t believe it. I found her dress, right there, under the—”
Kieryn caught Kelyn around the throat and drove him into the wall between the windows. White pain burst behind Kelyn’s eyes, and he could neither breathe nor move. He had seen the feral thing awaken in Kieryn’s face before, during the Assembly, when he lay in bed absorbing a new truth. Kelyn had time to wonder if this was the face that one hundred and fifty enemy soldiers had seen in the instant before they died, then his thoughts were no longer under his control. Flashes of memory sped past—battle after battle, men falling, bodies bleeding, stones burning, a golden light in the dark, Kieryn’s own face, the duke shrunken and smiling, the shadow roiling, a pyre against the sea, Rhoslyn under the waves, in his arms upon the beach, standing in the middle of this very room, wearing a rose-colored gown. The images slowed—the room askew, Rhoslyn tilting, flames in a hearth blurred through a drunken haze. Yes, the dress. Under the chair. Rhoslyn’s mortified face as she snatched it away from him. Don’t tell anyone.
“Stop! Oh, please, stop!” Rhoslyn stood in the doorway, her hands gripping the sides of her head. “Don’t hurt him. It’s all my doing.”
Kieryn rounded on her. She retreated across the corridor, and there he pinned her against her chamber door. “Why?” he cried into her face. “You knew I was coming back. Do you think I would’ve left if I’d known what was coming? Kelyn told me you were nothing but heartache. Why didn’t I listen? I wanted to believe better of you.”
She tried to hide her face from him. “Forgive me, please,” she sobbed.
For a moment, he considered. His fingers touched the softness of her cheek, her jaw, her throat. They paused on the pulse there, and that’s where he felt it. So subtle. No one else could’ve felt it. Rhoslyn herself probably couldn’t feel it—not yet.
“Love,” she said, sniffling, “we can put all this—” He silenced her desperate proposal under his hand and listened more closely. Yes, unmistakable now. Her life paired with another. He released her in horror. There was no undoing it. No forgetting it. She was no longer his. She never really was, he recalled. He was only Safe. The feral thing didn’t like being Safe.
“Ah, damn you both and your bastard, too!”
In the doorway of the Blue Room, Kelyn grunted in surprise. One cheek was discolored from the lick of the cold flames; the other swelled. He held his sword in one hand, the blade bare. Would he really have used it? He lowered it now as Kieryn’s words sank in.