‘Pardon?’ she asked, suddenly, thrown by the vision of him caressing her through her water-drenched blouse. She shook her head to rid her mind of it.
The King smiled. It was a wicked and knowing look. ‘I didn’t say anything. Your hand feels suddenly moist, Lauryn. Are you all right?’
She snatched it away, rubbing it on her skirt. ‘I’m fine. Perhaps we should go,’ she said, eyes darting around in case someone had glimpsed them together. All at once they seemed to be sitting so close their heads almost touched.
‘Are you really fine?’ The gentle concern was back in the voice of the King.
‘I am, I promise. I was winded and I’m sure I’ll sport some superb bruises but otherwise, I feel well. Shall we go?’
She made to stand but the wretched beautiful hand had hers in its clutch again.
‘If you are well, then I would be honoured if you would continue with the ride and the picnic I had planned.’
‘Picnic?’ she said, feeling and sounding like a pet parrot she had seen at the palace in a gilded cage. She promised herself she would not repeat nor make him repeat another word.
‘Yes, our picnic. Yours and mine.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Well, I invited you to join me for a ride this afternoon. I thought we could take a quiet picnic together and I could make use of your sound advice and practise using my smile again.’
‘Oh, Gyl, I didn’t mean it…’
His grin faltered and the vulnerability was back. She found it rather endearing now. ‘I know. I know. But you’re right. These past weeks…well, I feel as though some sort of grim countenance has fallen upon me as catastrophic news blended with strange news. I really have forgotten what it is to smile but you reminded me. I’m grateful. So…will you join me?’
She looked around, confused. ‘You mean just us?’
‘That’s all it ever was going to be. Those men are my guards. They were waiting for me as I went to check on something. You arrived and obviously decided I was not in attendance. But I promise you, I was there all along and simply went ahead to see to some kingly decisions,’ he said with faked importance. They shared a smile. He nodded at the men. ‘They will keep watch but at a discreet distance. We’ll be essentially travelling alone, but not far, I promise.’
And with that, he lifted her hand and kissed it. It was so soft and so fleeting she had trouble convincing herself it had happened at all.
With no self-consciousness for what he had just done, the King stood, helped her to her feet and walked her towards Firefly, all the time one hand guiding her. His touch she felt burning through her clothes all the way to her skin which was now tingling.
Later, they sat beside a very small brook and shared a simple, delicious meal. They had talked at length during the ride, allowing the horses to set their own comfortable pace. Gyl had already decided that Lauryn was not up to anything swift that afternoon and deliberately permitted Bryx to stroll. They shared many laughs over trivial matters and Gyl noticed that Lauryn was a clever mimic…already, in the brief time she had been in the palace, she could produce hilarious impersonations of Koryn and Cook. And once again he chuckled and she cringed over the afternoon’s episode, and then he promised her he would never refer to it again. Inwardly, Gyl knew the vision would haunt him daily and he would not be able to rest until he felt her body against his.
As they had drifted into a companionable silence he began to wonder whether there was anything wrong with his desire for this woman. She was not his sister after all. Her birth mother was his adopted mother in truth and neither had been raised together as kin. As far as he was concerned she was a needy young stranger who had come into his life in the most unexpected way. She had intrigued him from the moment they met and she intrigued him even more now.
As they sat by the brook the mood deepened into something more sombre as Gyl began to speak about his father. In a short time Lauryn felt she almost knew the man through Gyl’s keen eyes and soldier’s attention to detail.
‘He loved your mother deeply, you know,’ he said.
‘I gather. How do you feel about my father?’
He appreciated her directness. ‘I wish he’d never come but then I would never have met you.’ Gyl could not meet her eyes as he said this. ‘I am trying to keep an open mind about all that he apparently stands for. But Lauryn,’ he chanced taking her hand again, ‘I may be the King of Tallinor but I am still a simple soldier at heart. I deal with what my eyes can see and my ears can hear. All this talk of magic and angry gods and…you appearing from some different world to save this world—well it all befuddles me.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I do understand. I hardly know what I’m doing here myself. Save the world? Ha! How? But Gyl, look at me.’ He did. Lauryn cast and aged herself by fifty years or so. She watched the horror come across his face as he shrank back from the touch of her gnarled fingers. Then just as fast she snapped the glamour off and she was Lauryn again.
There was no amusement in her face when she said: ‘How do you suppose that happens if there is no magic in this world?’
The King was clearly shocked. ‘What else?’
‘What else can I do? Lots. I have no idea of the limitations of this power. Remember the man you found lying by the tree not far from where we thought Sorrel died?’ He nodded. ‘I did that. And I did it by pushing out with my mind…no hands, no weapon…just my powers.’ He shook his head, half with disbelief and half with dread understanding. She continued. ‘And the lad you were looking for? Well, I think I broke several of his limbs when I cast out with my mind and threw him high into the air. He landed heavily.’ She looked sheepish but Gyl could not laugh.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ he admitted.
‘There is nothing to say. I feel as clueless as you but I trust my father. He has brought us back to do something. You must trust him too. If you care about me, if you care about our mother…Light Gyl!…if you care about Tallinor, we have to trust that Tor and Alyssa know things we do not.’
‘What should I do?’
‘Don’t be sceptical any more. Be open to suggestion. Allow yourself that magic is here and around us and that it can be used for good but there is a darker side and I believe that’s what we face now.’
He nodded. ‘My mother…our mother counselled me along the same lines before she left. I gave her my word I would make preparations for extra security in the Kingdom.’
‘Don’t hesitate. Something bad is coming. My father was forced to confront it before we came to Tal. Not here in Tallinor but somewhere else. This god’s intention is to destroy all of us and to raze Tallinor.’
‘How do I know who my enemy is?’
‘You don’t,’ she said. ‘None of us do. But my father will recognise him. For now, we must trust those who know more than us, who have been preparing longer.’
Lauryn looked towards the sun setting behind the hills. She sighed. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘Yes,’ he admitted, making no move to leave. ‘Lauryn, will you stay close over the next few days? I could use a friend around the place. This whole coronation business is daunting.’
‘Of course I will. It would be an honour. You’re going to be a brilliant King for Tallinor. I know it. And all the nobles will want to marry you off to their daughters.’
He pulled a face. ‘I know this. That’s why I’m asking you to remain close.’
‘To put them off?’ She laughed, amused by his sudden anxiety.
‘No,’ he said very deliberately. ‘Not to put them off. To let them know my heart is spoken for.’
It was as though a mighty wind had rushed through her and sucked all her breath away as it passed. She swallowed, trying to breathe, trying to find a voice…any sound.
He met her eyes. ‘I’m not sure where that notion came from but I’m glad that it is out and in the open between us. Have I disturbed you by saying it?’
She shook her head, still unable to utter a
sound. A random thought passed through her mind; an echo from the past. She would catch herself a fine man one day. He would be strong and witty and a leader amongst men. They would be madly in love and he would never want any other but her.
Here was such a man. She could not deny that in the past few hours she had felt herself drawn deeper and deeper into his life. She would be lying if she did not admit that she was captivated by him and would be jealous of any other woman who held his desires. It would be folly to suggest—as tentative as it was—that it was not the strongest of desires she was feeling towards this man. And here he was boldly speaking her thoughts back to her.
‘Please say something,’ he said, quietly, looking at her hand in his.
Lauryn swallowed again and hoped her voice could be found. ‘I will stay close, sire. I will show all of Tallinor that our hearts are spoken for…by each other.’
He looked back at her then, his eyes literally sparkling in the dying pink light of dusk. ‘May I kiss you, my lady?’
‘What are you waiting for, your majesty?’ she said, pulling him fiercely towards her and no longer caring for prying eyes.
13
The Coronation Feast
The Ciprean party made its way majestically through the fabulously ornate gates of Tal. Orlac’s heart leapt as they entered the city. What would he do? Unleash his powers and start the killing rampage now?
The red mist which was Dorgryl could imagine his thoughts. I’ve been thinking, the elder god said, the familiar slyness in his voice.
I wish you wouldn’t, Orlac snapped, wanting to be left alone.
Dorgryl continued as though his nephew had not responded. I believe you should wait. Don’t reveal anything yet.
I’ve waited too many centuries already.
Nevertheless. Orlac could tell his uncle was deliberately choosing his words; keeping his normally voluble thoughts to a minimum. He was obviously serious in his intent to convince Orlac of something. Stick to what we promised. Wait until we know where Gynt is. To exact maximum retribution you should take some time to learn something of today’s Tallinor. After all, you have waited this long…and you have all the time in the world to ensure your vengeance is pure and perfect.
Oh, he is good, Orlac thought. Very good. And for one of those rare times they agreed on something. Orlac felt his uncle was airing sound advice: he would find out more about this King and his court. It would make the dismantling of it all the more fun when the time came.
So we continue in these roles, he finally said.
For a while, yes, Dorgryl responded. Just look at the welcome awaiting you, my regent. And Orlac heard the senior god’s deep chuckle.
It was amusing. There were dozens and dozens of courtly people awaiting his carriage on the grand steps of the Tal palace. They were all bowing or curtsying as they watched his party draw close. Trumpets blasted and guards, uniformed in the brilliant Tallinese red, stood to stiff attention.
And in their midst, Orlac noticed, stood a young man. He was not especially tall but was broad and handsome in a rugged sort of way. He was dressed simply as one would expect a soldier might but his dark clothes were a perfect cut and hung well from his square shoulders. He wore a sword at his side and the crimson of Tallinor fluttered around him in the shape of a cloak. His bearing was regal. Without question this was the new King—the Bastard of Wytton—whom they had come to witness being crowned.
I presume this is the famous Gyl. Dorgryl echoed his thoughts as their own carriage halted. But just who is that delectable creature next to him?
Orlac’s gaze shifted and locked intently on a young woman with golden hair and greyish-green eyes the colour of the sea on a stormy day. Her cheekbones were set high, chiselling the creamy complexion of her skin. The god’s breath caught in his chest. The woman was strikingly beautiful and he knew in that instant he wanted her; she was perfect to his eyes.
They await you, nudged Dorgryl in his mind.
Orlac tried to gather his thoughts but they were scattered by the dazzling smile on the face of the young woman who seemed to be directing all that warmth at him as he stepped from his carriage. There were several soft exclamations from many women on the stairs that afternoon as, unbeknown to them, a god entered their lives. His height alone was enough to turn heads but the exclamations came from women whose hearts began to beat harder at the beauty of the foreign dignitary who elegantly bowed towards the King of Tallinor. Orlac heard none of them; paid no heed to their sounds. His attention, though seemingly directed towards the King, was actually riveted on one pair of eyes only. She dipped them from his gaze as she bowed once again.
And then Gyl of Wytton was striding towards him. He was smiling broadly and making noises of welcome. ‘Your rider came ahead. I’m sorry to hear of your Queen’s illness but extremely glad she sent her Regent. You are most welcome to the Kingdom of Tallinor,’ Gyl said, extending a hand.
Orlac took it. ‘I feel privileged to be amongst you and sincerely thank you for this rousing welcome on behalf of Cipres. I am Regent Sylc.’ He smiled at the name he had taken. It had only just occurred to him to use it. In the old language of Cipres, not much used now, the word meant thief. He liked the irony. The King was speaking again.
‘I trust her majesty’s ailment is only minor?’ Gyl enquired out of politeness.
‘Yes, sire. Our Queen should be well within a day or two but we did not wish to delay your coronation, nor to miss it. Please accept the Queen’s apologies for not being here and her commiserations on the untimely death of your father. By all the accounts we heard in Cipres, he was an excellent man.’ Orlac felt the twitch of amusement from Dorgryl at this exchange.
‘Thank you. He was,’ Gyl said, not wanting to discuss his father with the stranger. ‘Come now,’ he continued, ‘let us show you your chambers and your servants can unpack and settle you in for a wonderful few days as our honoured guest.’
Orlac smiled, his eyes flicking to the woman standing not so far away. He was not mistaken; surely this was the woman that Juno spoke of. Juno had not lied; she was indeed a seer. Those were certainly freckles on the girl’s face and now that he could see her smiling, her nose crinkled as it did in Juno’s vision. He would make this woman his.
The Cipreans were the last of the royal guests to arrive and the palace was now brimful of people in all wings except the chambers at the top of the west tower which remained dusty and unused. Lorys had left instructions many years previous that they were not to be reopened during his reign. The housekeeper had enquired of the new King whether these chambers should now be unlocked and cleaned out but Gyl had shaken his head, deferring to his father’s sentimental wishes. They were not essential to this event; they could make do without them and anyway, which guest would want to climb to the very top of the tower after a night’s feasting? Merkhud’s rooms and their secrets remained untouched.
The coronation itself had gone smoothly; the weather had turned on a picture-perfect spring afternoon and Tal’s populace, swelled by thousands for the event, had begun a long week of celebrations in which the violet shroud was replaced by the Tallinese crimson edged in coronation gold and almost fanatical decoration had appeared in every nook and cranny of the capital to mark the occasion.
Inside the palace, the coronation feast was underway and Cook’s team had surpassed themselves with course after sumptuous course—the rare sea lamprey a particular highlight. And in between each special dish Sallementro would take the floor and sing for the guests, his superb voice winning acclaim amongst the visiting royalty, many of whom suggested he might care to visit their realms and sing within their palaces. The King of Briavel—to the far east of the Kingdom of Tallinor—was especially insistent. The bard was more flattered than he would admit to but knew in his heart he could not leave Tallinor with the threat of Orlac hanging over it.
The god was thoroughly enjoying himself, finding his seat positioned not far from the King and near enough to the Lady Lauryn—as she
was introduced—to speak with her. So far the entertainment and banqueting had ensured their conversation was brief and polite but he hoped that might change, now that the evening had reached the point when softer ballads would be sung. A natural break between the savoury and sweet courses had occurred and people were allowed to settle back and talk uninterrupted for a while.
Orlac found himself engaged in a tedious and lengthy conversation with a dignitary from one of the kingdoms to the far east of Tallinor. He was barely listening and certainly not paying attention. Even Dorgryl’s comments interested him more.
His uncle shimmered. She is spoken for, I’d suggest, or at least her heart speaks to someone in this room.
How can you know this?
I notice things. I observe people.
She has hardly taken her attention from me.
Dorgryl laughed. Perhaps, but watch how her eyes stray every few moments towards the King; see how her lips purse because he is not paying her attention. I would be most surprised if those two are not lovers.
Orlac felt a painful spike of jealousy. He knew he had no right to and yet his desire for this woman had become overwhelmingly proprietorial. He tried to ignore his uncle’s sly voice and managed to extricate himself from the attentions of the eastern dignitary.
‘Lady Lauryn,’ he said, flashing a brilliant smile. ‘Do you hail from Tal itself?’
‘No, Regent Sylc. I have only been here a short while.’
‘Oh? Where is home?’ he asked, determined to hold her attention.
Lauryn felt distracted and just a bit irritated. As much as she was enjoying all the pomp and ceremony, the fabulous gowns and amazing food, most of which she had never tasted before, she was also in the grip of jealousy.
Across from her, Gyl was engaged in animated conversation with the most gorgeous young woman from some far away realm. Lauryn had established that this woman was a Princess, set to inherit a wealthy throne. The King and Queen seemed very intent on encouraging their daughter’s time with the King of Tallinor. Lauryn watched with loathing as the olive-skinned Princess dipped her dark eyes to show off her long lashes at some little jest of Gyl’s.
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