“Not by myself. Bartlett was here for a while. And Krillos.”
“I assume there were others?” Bending, she picked up a black ribbon and the skimpy bodice attached to it. “Or are you going to tell me this belongs to the Captain?”
“Actually, he looked quite fetching in it.”
A laugh burst out of her. As the moment passed, Kit took a resolved breath. “The first time I met Malaq Roarke was at the prison,” she said then. “Draken had finally given him permission to see you.”
“I haven’t gotten back all of my time there, but I don’t remember that.”
“You wouldn’t. Malaq was escorted to a room to wait for you, but you never came. The guards took you instead to the room next door.” Pushing a chunk of hair behind her ears, Kit turned away and went back to cleaning. “There’s an elixir that overrides the Kayn’l. It stimulates the nerves and awakens the mind, temporarily giving a drugged Shinree the ability to feel. It was given to you before…” she glance at me with a helpless gesture.
“Before they tortured me?”
“Among other things.” Her pale eyes drifted. “There was a small window between the rooms. Malaq had been bolted in. He had no choice but to witness what Draken and his guards did to you.”
“It was a test,” I said, not at all surprised. “If he had flinched, Draken would have claimed Malaq disloyal.”
“Which is why he suffered it in silence.” Kit put down the stack of mugs she’d collected. She looked at me, arms crossed. “After, they sent for me to heal you. The guards outside were always vulgar, but they were in a particularly randy mood that day. When Malaq came out of the prison, they had me backed up against the wall, grabbing and taunting me, saying cruel things about our kind. About you in particular,” she added, resentment mixing with the sadness in her eyes. “Malaq pulled them off me. He nearly beat them to death.”
“I’m not the best judge right now, but that doesn’t sound like Malaq.”
“It’s not. At that moment though, he needed a target. A stand-in for the one man he couldn’t get his hands on.” Kit came over and sat beside me, tucking her legs under her dress. “I saw something in him that day, something that made me trust Malaq despite his Langorian blood. So I told him who I was. I hoped that with my access to the prison, and his connections, together we could get you out. But it wasn’t that easy. We had to have an affair just to be alone.”
“You had an affair with Malaq?”
“It was for appearances only. We needed a reason for Malaq to come back to the prison. The guards were happy to take his bribe, to help hide our tryst from the King. But between Draken, Reth, and the prison defenses, there was no clear solution for freeing you, let alone keeping you safe after. We had to abandon plan after plan, and the more time passed, the harder it got. What I was doing to Sienn, having to see you both hurt, day in and day out. I didn’t want to do it anymore. But Malaq wouldn’t let me give up. He said no matter how long it took, he would find a way. He would keep coming back, listening to your screams through the walls, and I would keep healing you. He said you would survive no matter what they did to you. Because you were the strongest person he had ever met. Malaq has a powerful belief in you, Ian.”
The moment seemed to call for something eloquent, but I was angry. “It’s not belief. Malaq has me on some kind of fucking pedestal. He’s hanging the future of the realms on me, and I never asked for that. I never asked to be his weapon.”
“On the outside, it may seem like that’s all you are. That it’s about nothing more than you winning that throne for him. But it wasn’t a chair Malaq was thinking about when Draken was breaking your bones.”
The tent flap opened again. Another round of daylight blasted in. Already in a mood, I started yelling. “Damn it! Doesn’t anyone knock?”
Krillos poked his head in. “You want me to knock on a tent?”
I almost punched him. I was severely out of sorts, and he was too damn chipper. He was also too far away. Cursing him took less energy. Only, as I tried to recall some appropriately vulgar, Langorian words, I realized Krillos had moved on. He was looking at Kit now, giving her what could only be described as a blatantly, flirtatious smile. To my surprise, Kit returned it with a noticeable blush and a coy lowering of her eyes.
I suddenly felt out of place. “You want something?” I said to him.
Krillos flung a glance in my direction. “Outside.” He let the flap fall closed.
Kit and I exited the tent a moment later. I stifled my groan at the number of people outside. They were all passing by, heading the same direction. Seeing Krillos walking with them, Kit ran up to join him. I kept to the back at a more reluctant pace.
It was quieter at the rear of the crowd. Still, all the chattering wasn’t sitting well. Head pounding, hair and clothes disheveled, stinking of ale; my disposition was as gray as the sky. Both were growing darker by the minute. Yet no one seemed concerned with the scowl on my face, or the oncoming storm. As the throng stopped to gather around a large, empty clearing in the middle of the camp, they were downright jovial, like some sort of celebration was brewing. All eyes were trained to the center of the clearing where a rectangular section of dark air sparkled and twisted above the ground.
I circled around the outside of the crowd. Krillos and Kit moved closer. The mob parted to let them through. Enough cheerful ‘good mornings’ were being bid it was like a chorus. Feeling ill and unsociable, I kept where I was. I had a decent view and it was easier to see who was here. Or, more importantly, who wasn’t. It was purely selfish, but I was glad not to find Sienn. After yesterday, I wasn’t ready to see her again so soon.
Abruptly, the sparks came together and formed a set of well-defined, colorful lines. The lines pulsed. The colors flickered, faster and faster. The black between parted like a curtain and Malaq stepped through. Lirih followed. Wearing the same cloak as on the ship, the oversized hood allowed only a glimpse of the smooth, firm skin of her face. I moved to get a better look, and Lirih folded. I couldn’t tell if she was magic-blind, or if the drain of energy was just too much. Either way, Malaq caught her; taking Lirih into his arms like she weighed no more than a feather. As the door behind them shrunk and disappeared, he transferred her to a Langorian man who carried Lirih off. Malaq turned back to the crowd then, and the whole lot of them went down on one knee.
There was no hesitation. All races, including my own, were paying respect to Malaq as if he were their King. Not feeling the same level of awe as everyone else, I kept to my feet.
“Please,” Malaq said, humbly. “This isn’t necessary.” He walked through the crowd, pulling people up. The rest stood and surrounded him. It was similar to the welcome Krillos received, only less intimate, and with far more reverence.
As his admirers dispersed, Malaq’s eyes began to roam. They landed on me and he came right over. He pulled me into a brief, but strong hug. He was smiling. Friendship was practically wafting off the man, and it made me feel a little awkward. My comments about him to Kit had not been kind. Not to mention, my appearance was in no way suitable for royalty.
“You just beat the storm,” I said, feeling a drop on my head.
Malaq dismissed my casual remark for one more personal. “You look good.”
“I look like hell. If I’d known you were coming...”
“You would have cleaned up for me?” Malaq laughed. His amusement trailed off when I didn’t join in. “You’re serious?”
“You are a Prince. It’s not exactly respectful for me to show up…” I left off as he started laughing again. “What?”
Malaq put an arm around my shoulder. “This memory loss thing,” he said, ushering me away, “I’m starting to think it might have a few perks after all.”
“Your father is missing.”
Sitting in the chair opposite Malaq, I looked at him with hope. “Is he dead?”
“If he was, Draken would know. They’re linked. Remember?” I nodded and a bit of relief touched h
is eyes. “You wouldn’t know it though,” he added. “Most of the time they keep their line of communication closed. From what I can tell, if it wasn’t for the spell binding them together, my brother and your father would have been at each other’s throats a long time ago.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I don’t. Together, we know what their agenda is. If their alliance falls apart, the whole of Mirra’kelan could get caught in the crossfire.” As if considering that terrible prospect, Malaq fell quiet. He stared at the clumps of grass on the ground between us, stroking his goatee. The rain on the roof of his tent went from pattering to pounding and Malaq glanced up, as if the sound had roused him from his thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jem Reth,” he said then. “Your father’s been out of touch before, but not this long. His disappearance troubles my brother. It worries the hell out of me.”
“Where was he last seen?”
“Southern Langor. There’s a Shinree settlement there, near the border. Jem claims it’s for training, but it’s nothing more than a glorified work camp if you ask me.”
“How long ago?”
“He packed up and left the day he received news of your death. Draken had several tracking spells done, but they’ve all failed. It’s like he’s vanished.”
“He’s planning something.”
“He isn’t the only one. Draken has his sights set on Doratae and the lands beyond. If his incursion proves successful, it will further secure his place as High King. We can’t let that happen, regardless of what Jem Reth is up to.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Couple of months on the outside. I’m stalling him as best I can. But any more postponements on the delivery of his ships and Draken will have my stepfather arrested. So I need to know, Ian. Can you cast yet?”
It was a legitimate question. Malaq hadn’t posed it to anger me or to make me feel defective. Even with the breaks in my memory, I could safely say the man considered me a friend. But I was also the critical piece of his plan. I was the busted wheel on his wagon. Nothing could move without me. No matter what face he showed to Kit, and even if no one else could see it—even if Malaq himself couldn’t see it—I could. Malaq’s ambition for Langor’s throne (no matter how noble the reason) trumped our friendship any day. “No,” I said. “I can’t cast yet.”
“Damn. Then you’ll have to get in and out quick.”
“In and out where?”
“Kael.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “You said Kael wasn’t safe.”
“We can take precautions to lessen the risk.”
“The swamp was crawling with Kaelish soldiers when we got here.”
“I heard.”
“Now you want to hand me over to them?”
“I’m not handing you over to anyone. But you need to see Guidon’s Queen. Jillyan has an idea for restoring the crown’s power.”
I thought a moment. “The same Jillyan that was once Queen of Langor?” Malaq nodded. “She’s part of your resistance?” He nodded again. “Jillyan is Draken’s sister.” Something else came to me. “And yours.”
“She’s my half-sister, actually.”
“Whatever. How is your half-sister going to help me fix the crown? And why?”
“Jillyan was responsible for unearthing the ruins of the Shinree Empire. Her knowledge of your people is extensive. So is the danger she faces if her alliance with us is exposed. As to why she wants to help, you’ll have to ask her. Jillyan’s message said she’ll speak only to you.”
“And you don’t think that sounds sketchy?”
“Not for her. Jillyan has a fascination for your kind. A particular interest, shall we say? And there’s no Shinree more notorious than you, my friend.”
I couldn’t dispute that. “I thought it wasn’t safe for anyone to know I’m alive?”
“It isn’t. But I trust her, Ian. I wouldn’t send you otherwise.”
“If I do this, if I learn how to repair the crown, then I’m going to Darkhorne. I’m getting Jarryd out of there, with or without your help.”
“We can discuss a rescue when you return.”
“Good. When do I leave?”
“Lirih will take you in the morning.” He looked me over. “You’ll need some Kaelish clothes. We can dress you as a soldier so you can carry a sword. Give you a helm to cover you hair. Lirih can take you right to Jillyan’s door, but we have information on passwords and guard changes just in case. Luckily, Guidon is away. If you’re careful not to let anyone get a look at your eyes, you should be all right. Now, I have a meeting, so Krillos will have to fill you in on the rest.” Getting up from his chair, Malaq paused. “I have one important piece of advice before I go. Whatever you do….stay out of my sister’s bed.”
I snorted a laugh. “I have no intention of being anywhere near your sister’s bed.”
“Personally, it doesn’t bother me. Jillyan is a grown woman. She can lift her skirts for the cook for all I care.”
“Well, she’s not going to lift them for me.”
“Jillyan’s taste for Shinree men is well known, Ian. Just remember, our connections there are limited. If something goes wrong and you get caught—”
“Malaq, relax,” I assured him. “I’m not going to sleep with your sister.”
SEVENTEEN
I was going to sleep with Malaq’s sister.
After, or possibly before, she was going to have my eyes poked out with a hot iron. That’s what usually happens when you leer at a Queen like you would a common barmaid. Except, this particular Queen didn’t seem to object to my staring. If she did, she would have gotten dressed and held audience on her throne. Instead, I’d been admitted to her bedchamber, where Jillyan was lounging in a sitting room chair, wearing a sleeveless, transparent white dressing gown.
I wasn’t complaining. She had a magnificent body. Curves were everywhere. Her legs were long. Her breasts were large. They pressed against the thin material of the gown; nipples protruding, all round, alert and inviting. Equally appealing was the way her sleek, pin-straight black hair hung down to her thighs. Although Jillyan wasn’t a true beauty, I found her firm, angular face intriguing. Her eyes, deep and dark, with a cunning, predatory gleam, set over a nose that was slightly too prominent. Bowed, full lips offset a jaw that ended in a bit too much of a point. Soft and timid, Jillyan was not.
She wasn’t graced with her younger brother, Malaq’s, visible charm. Nor was she cursed with Draken’s demoralizing authority. Jillyan was her own woman. She was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and knew every single damn way of getting it. And the intelligence and confidence wafting off her was sexy as hell.
Jillyan uncrossed her legs. Knees pressed together, she rose from her chair. With none of the buttons on her dressing gown buttoned, the material parted. One side slipped further than the other. It slid off the tip of her nipple, then over the plump arc of her breast as she stretched an arm out across the back of her chair. She stroked the cushion, slow and deliberate. For a long while, Jillyan stood; not covering up, raking a fingernail over the fabric; watching me; letting me watch her. It was a game I was good at.
So was she.
When her inability to discomfort me became clear, Jillyan offered a slight tilt of her head in greeting. In return, I took my helmet off and bowed. I had a good idea what would come next. During the war I’d destroyed Langor’s entire army and driven her older brother mad. I was ready for all manner of threats and insults to issue from Jillyan’s generous mouth. When it lifted into a sly, eye-catching smile, I knew I had a problem.
Elegant, assertive strides brought the Queen closer. She stopped, and I tried not to look at the patch of dark, neatly trimmed hair between her legs. I focused instead on the hand she held out to me. On one finger was the gaudy display of green and gold that symbolized her sovereignty in Kael. Adorning the others were slender silver serpent rings. They were well polished, and their high sheen was brilliant agai
nst the tawny color of her skin.
Her hand still out, I knew what she was looking for. I knew what decorum said I should do. But admiring what the woman left out in the open was one thing. I wasn’t in the least bit interested in kissing her snakes. I just didn’t know how rude I could be to this Queen and still keep my head.
I took her hand. Her smooth skin was shimmery, giving off the heady muskiness of scented oil. I wondered, as I bent closer, if she bathed in it. The intoxicating smell was all over her.
Placing a gentle kiss on the top of her hand, I released it and Jillyan returned to her chair. Fashioned like a small couch, she reclined against the puffy, red back-cushion. Lifting her long legs up, she curled them to the side. In her current pose, the gown covered so little, I didn’t see why she was still wearing it.
There was one other chair in the room. It sat to the left of the door, against the back wall. In utter contrast to the Queen’s overly-padded place of luxury, the chair was wooden and plain. Low-backed, it had no arms and a narrow seat that looked uncomfortable as hell. It was also nowhere near the Queen. When she made motion for me to sit there, I took no offense. I knew exactly what she was doing: drawing a line of distinction and daring me to cross it. Question was: how far over did she want me to step? And did I care?
I couldn’t remember if gambling was something I was good at. But I liked it.
I went over to the chair. I sensed her eyes on me. I imagined the thoughts churning in her head as I picked up the chair, carried it over, and sat it down directly in front of her. Turning it around backwards, I scooted the chair closer, and straddled it. From the startled expression on the Queen’s face, my brazenness surprised her. And that was something she liked.
Going with it, I gave her a polite nod. “Your Grace.”
“Shinree,” she replied. “I’m glad you came.” Her Langorian accent was heavy, but refined. “I must admit, your character is unexpected.”
“As is yours.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 12