The nobles are silent. No one dares question the king, and Father knows it. He watches them all, his eyes sliding along each man. He almost seems eager for someone to stand against him.
As I knew it would be, it’s Rigel who finally speaks. “Your Majesty, forgive me—”
“You will not dissuade me, Lord Rigel.”
Rigel shakes his head. He’s struggling to keep his thoughts silent, but finally his convictions win. “Sire—”
Father stands, his eyes narrowed at the only man in the room who truly poses a threat to him. “You are either loyal to me or you are a traitor.” He leans forward. “Choose.”
The look on Father’s face is terrifying. He’s baiting Rigel, practically begging him to go against him. I can’t breathe. I wait with a trapped lungful of air.
Rigel sits back. His jaw is clenched, but his face is otherwise emotionless. “I have always shown loyalty to you.”
Father smiles. “And I have rewarded your loyalty.” His eyes flicker purposefully to me, as if he is threatening to divulge to the room the news of the sordid offer he made Rigel.
My skin crawls, but I stare at the familiar beam in the corner, pretending indifference. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rigel tense and then hold out his hands in surrender. He sits back. Part of me is disappointed he gave up so easily. Another part is terrified he may not the next time. What would Father have done if Rigel had refused to back down?
Father smiles. He has found a neat and tidy corner to back Rigel into, and he can barely contain his joy. He turns his smug eyes on me. Inwardly, I shrink away. On the outside, I tilt my chin a fraction higher. I’m not sure what sickens me more—the fact that my father is a monster or the flash of pride that crosses his face when I do not bow to his will.
“Seirsha,” he says, satisfied. “You look peaked. You may leave.”
I’ve never been dismissed before. So many times I would have been elated to be sent away, but now it seems like a show of power, a degradation. Father watches me carefully, waiting to see where my gaze will travel. I do not look at Rigel. Tilting my chin high in the air, I sweep out of the room with as much disdain as I can muster.
“Rovert,” Father says from behind me. “Tell them the plan.”
***
“He sent you away?” Bea hangs her cloak by the hearth. “How lovely!”
I shake my head, knowing there is no way she will understand. This battle of wills took place because Father knows there is something real between me and Rigel. We’ll have to be even more diligent to keep our emotions hidden.
Kara is soft in my arms, and her little sleeping form fills me with an ache I don’t want to think about. Pippa is two years younger than I am. By the time she reaches my age, she may have a child of her own. Unbidden, the vision of a dark-haired baby drifts into my head—a sweet little girl with gray eyes.
Kara stretches, bringing me back to the present. I brush a few wispy light blond strands away from her face, hoping she will fall back asleep so I may hold her longer.
Marielle is taking a much-needed rest. She’s taken on odd jobs for extra money. With the new baby, she’s exhausted. The first thing I noticed when she opened the door was the dark shadows under her eyes. She’ll become ill if she keeps up this pace.
When I arrived, I immediately whisked the crying baby from her arms and sent her to bed. She argued, of course, but it didn’t take long to convince her.
“How long have you been here?” Bea asks.
“An hour, maybe two. I’ve lost count of the bells.”
Bea wrinkles her forehead. “Alone?”
“No. I had Kara.” As if to prove my point, I cuddle the baby close.
Bea’s eyes slide from me to the baby, and then she kneels before me. “Is everything all right?”
I don’t want to worry her. She doesn’t need to be informed of Father’s dangerous obsession yet. She knows me too well, though. It’s hard to hide things from her.
Perhaps I can distract her.
“Rigel kissed me,” I say.
Her mouth drops open, and her eyes go from concerned to sparkling in less than a moment. “When? Where?”
“At his estate.”
Bea sets her hands on her hips. “That was four days ago.” She gives me a cold look when I shrug, but she’s not able to hold it. The sternness melts away, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles. “Did he tell you he loves you?”
I give her a wilting look. “Let’s not rush things, shall we?”
“But you love him.” Her expression goes from wistful to sharp. “Are you going to marry him?”
The familiar pang of longing returns, and I say, “You know the answer to that.”
As we talk, Bea busies herself with chopping sad-looking root vegetables and tossing them into the pot hanging over the fire. She glances up. “I meant in secret.”
My stomach flips at the idea, and then it knots. “Father would kill me.”
It’s the truth. Father would truly kill me, and he’d kill Rigel as well. I don’t particularly want to see the man I love hanged.
Bea raises a tawny eyebrow. “Not if there were a chance you were carrying a legitimate heir.”
I try to tamp down the hope blooming in my chest.
“He would if the child were Rigel’s,” I argue. “Besides, the royal line may only pass through males.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it.” She tosses a handful of something green and wilted into the pot.
“Give me one example.”
She looks up. “Queen Lavinia.”
“That was centuries ago, and it was in Rigel’s line, not ours.”
Bea smacks the knife on the table. “You mean the rightful line?”
I suck in a breath, shocked not because what she said isn’t true, but that she was brave enough to say it. Something has set a fire under the people. I eye the meager meal Bea is making for the family of five. That fire is hunger.
Bea dips her head, remorse in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“Don’t do that,” I snap.
I’m not upset with her—never with her—but with the way things are.
I continue, “Don’t ever apologize for speaking the truth.”
Kara wakes. If it’s because she’s hungry or because of our argument, I’m not sure. I peer up in the loft, hating to wake Marielle.
“It’s all right, Seirsha.” Bea says, softer now. She nods to the stairs.
I make my way up the steps and clear my throat at the top, feeling as if I’m intruding. “Marielle?”
The woman stirs. “Seirsha? How long have I slept?”
“An hour or two.” I hand the baby to her mother.
Marielle nestles Kara next to her and closes her eyes. “I’m so tired.”
Careful to keep the fabric away from Kara’s face, I tuck the blanket around Marielle’s shoulders. “You need to rest this evening. You have overworked yourself.”
Marielle mumbles about things she must do but soon falls back to sleep. I descend the stairs, careful to avoid the boards that squeak.
I pull my cloak from the peg next to Bea’s.
Bea looks up. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”
“I’m going to make sure your mother brings home bread tonight. I don’t think Marielle is eating enough.” I cross my arms, noticing how slender my friend has become. “You either.”
Bea sighs. “Mother won’t do it.”
“I don’t plan on giving her a choice.”
***
“No,” Rella says, her voice firm.
“You will do it.” I narrow my eyes at the woman who’s the closest thing I’ve had to a mother in the last ten years. “And that’s an order.”
Rella shakes her head, refusing to look at me as she efficiently kneads the dough in front of her.
I glance at the women not far from me, all working themselves to the bone to keep the nobles well-fed. How much does Father pay them?
Not enou
gh.
“Ladies,” I call out. Startled, they still in their tasks and look my way. “You will each take two loaves of bread home to your families tonight.”
They blink at me, too scared to move.
Rella finally looks my way. “You can’t ask that of them, Seirsha.” Several women gasp at her use of my name and the scolding tone of her voice, but she ignores them. “Do you know what will happen if we are found out?”
“You may say it was a direct order from me. I will deal with the repercussions.”
Rella shakes her head, defiant, but the woman next to her clasps my hands and thanks me as if I’ve done her some great service. It breaks my heart that giving them two loaves of bread can bring about this much gratitude.
I turn back before I leave the kitchens. “You will do it, Rella.”
She brushes the flour from her hands. Though she’s still displeased, she nods, but she won’t look at me. “Yes, Your Highness.”
***
It doesn’t surprise me when Argus shows up at my quarters.
Peering at him from the door, I say, “Yes?”
He’s barely concealing a vicious smile. “His Majesty wishes to speak with you.”
“About what?”
“I believe you know.”
I lean against the door, attempting to look put out although my heart is racing. “Yes, I suppose I do.”
Argus doesn’t speak to me as we make our way through the halls, and I have no desire to initiate a conversation. Not bothering to knock first, the guards open Father’s doors when they see me.
I sweep into the room and try not to cringe when the heavy doors shut. Father stands in front of me. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he stares out the window at the village.
“I don’t remember ordering the kitchen maids to take bread home with them,” he says.
“You didn’t.” His tone has set me on edge and makes me feel defiant. “I did.”
He turns slowly, his anger simmering just under the surface. “On whose authority?”
I meet his eyes. “On my own.”
The air is heavy between us. I tilt my chin slightly higher and wait for him to answer.
“You have no authority.”
“How much have you cut the women’s pay since the end of the wars?”
Father raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “That’s none of your concern. We’ve all had to make sacrifices.”
As if to prove a point, he raises a chalice to his lips. It’s an expensive wine, imported directly from a small family vineyard in Triblue.
Rage boils in me. That wine cost more gold than double the bread I had the women take yesterday. I’m tired of his games. I’m tired of his shows of power.
I step forward, unable to keep silent. “If you are so concerned with the loyalty of your people, you might consider treating them better than worthless dogs in the streets.”
Father takes two steps forward, his face hard. “Soon I won’t need their loyalty. They will have no choice but to obey.”
Shaking my head, I say, “It’s not out there, this thing you’ve set your heart on. It’s a myth, a legend. You make yourself a fool by—”
His slap takes me surprise. I take several steps back and hold my stinging cheek.
Satisfied with my reaction, Father says, “You will remember your place. This will not happen again, Seirsha.”
I cross my arms instead of answering.
“If it does, those women will bear the weight of your punishment. Do you understand?”
Unable to stand against this particular threat, I recoil. My eyes drop to the stone floor. “Yes, Father.”
Brushing the subject aside, he smiles. “How are things progressing with Rigel? Yesterday he backed down quickly, didn’t he?”
I stare at him.
Father smiles, and then his face falls as if he’s disappointed. “I fear he will tire of you soon, but until then, you are proving yourself useful.”
My stomach rolls. “I would never offer myself the way you have demanded.”
His gaze goes sharp, as if he’s been waiting for this. “Then what exactly have you been doing in all the time you’ve been spending together?”
I have no answer for him.
He takes another step closer. “Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it is not you using him, but him using you to claim a crown.”
Aghast at the thought, I step back. “No.”
Father laughs. “Poor girl. You hadn’t considered that, had you? How odd it is that handsome, powerful Lord Rigel has suddenly taken an interest in you now that I have no heir.”
I try to swallow, but my throat feels swollen.
“No,” Father says, mocking me. “He wouldn’t use you, would he? You’re too special. Too desirable—look at all the men lined up for you.”
My eyes sting, but I won’t let him see me cry.
“You will do your duty as I have instructed.” His tone again goes hard. “And you will remember—Rigel does not want you. He wants my throne.”
Chapter Nine
Pippa clenches her hands around her reins. “He will declare war on the lower kingdoms?”
Archer shakes his head. “He only alluded to it.”
Pippa and Archer ride with me and Rigel again today. We have no particular destination. The air is surprisingly pleasant, and the scraggly grass in the valleys is becoming green. Songbirds call from the sporadic pine trees that dot the landscape, and their song is like a balm to my aching soul.
Rigel pulls his horse even with mine. “War will be his intention.”
“Surely he doesn’t mean Lauramore?” Pippa demands. “We’re the closest thing he has to an allied kingdom.” The princess looks ill when neither Archer nor Rigel set her mind at ease. “I must warn Father. I must…” She trails off, a scowl on her face.
She knows as well as we do that her marriage has bound her to Errinton. Any whispered warnings would be treason.
After flicking a fly from my horse’s shoulder, I say, “I personally do not believe this new mania of his will bear fruit.”
My mood is dark, and I can’t shake it. The mountains to the south seem to beckon me today, and as always, I wish I could cross them.
I sigh and turn back to the others. “Does no one else think it seems a little too fantastic, this magical statue that has the power to make a man a god?”
Rigel shakes his head. “Dark magic is not to be trifled with.”
If it is real, I more than anyone do not want Father to take possession of it.
Pippa looks more irritated than before, if that’s possible. “Where is this thing?”
“Far north,” Rigel answers. “Past Errinton’s boundaries.”
There’s nothing in the far north but ice and snow. No kingdoms rule it; no kingdoms want it. Most men who have ventured to explore the area have all turned back shortly into their expedition. The other few have frozen to death.
“He plans to send out a small band of men to seek out a fortress carved from a cliff face,” Rigel continues. “It’s there he believes the figure will be found.”
I scoff under my breath. Despite Rigel’s warnings, it still sounds ludicrous.
Rigel glances at me but continues even as he gives me a questioning look.
Though I try, I can’t get Father’s words out of my head. They circle in my mind like vultures, swooping low when I’m least expecting them. The coincidence of Rigel stepping back into my life right after Calden’s death is great, but I just can’t believe it’s true. Not of Rigel.
“What will keep these men from claiming the sculpture as their own?” Pippa asks.
“The king will pick those he has leverage over.”
Archer reins his mare to the side to avoid a boulder in his path, and then he joins us again. “Blackmail?”
“Possibly.” Rigel looks back at me. “But he has already gathered us here. Essentially he will be holding loved ones hostage. People will do almost anything to protect tho
se they care about.”
For the first time today, I hold his gaze. There are questions in his eyes.
I look away.
Archer rolls his shoulders as if the conversation has become too taxing. “Let us hope they find the fortress empty.”
“Or not find it at all,” Pippa adds.
Rigel shakes his head. “No, we must hope the fortress exists. King Bowen will never give up the search.”
I shiver at his words and rub my pendant between my fingers.
Near us, a herd of shaggy iktars cease their digging. They pick up their large, oxen-like heads and stare at us disinterestedly. They chew the roots they’ve harvested like a cow chews cud. I purse my lips, watching them.
Pippa follows my eyes and laughs. “Rigel, have I told you the story of Galinor and his iktar beast?”
Rigel turns in his saddle, giving her an odd look. “They don’t have iktar in Glendon.”
“No. He was here in Errinton, hunting them.”
“When was this? And why?”
The black and white creatures decide we’re of no interest and go back to their foraging.
“It was last autumn,” she says. “And for a girl, Rigel.” Pippa turns her attention to her husband and grins.
Archer laughs. “It’s always for a girl.”
He and Pippa lock eyes in the disconcerting way they are prone to do.
“She was collecting odd ingredients for a gimly,” Pippa says when she finally pulls her starry gaze from her husband. “He was making a stew.”
Rigel cringes. “Out of iktar?”
I stare at the animal, still intrigued even after they tire of the subject. “Food is food, though. Isn’t it?” I say aloud, though I think my words are too quiet for the others to hear.
***
Pippa and I hand our horses off to the waiting grooms, but both Rigel and Archer walk their mounts into the stable. The smell is as strong today as it was the last time we were here. At least this time I’m prepared for it.
Next to me, Pippa takes a deep breath and sighs. She catches the look on my face and lets out a bright, bold laugh. “You don’t like the smell of horses.”
It’s an accusation.
The Eldentimber Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 56