Just another reason he looked forward to his and Arianne’s trip north. Arianne wanted to visit the Aua’Catan and establish a formal relationship with them if she could. Davon warned her that the A’Kor of the Aua’Catan was an isolationist and might not allow them entrance. After recovering from Melchor Raines’s severe blow to her head, Ki had agreed to go to the leaders of her people with Arianne’s proposal, and Davon had sent the promise that he would bring them a gift: Primal Water. He had found it in the meditation pool at the base of the Flame Cathedral, and he hoped gifting it would be enough to convince the A’Kor of their good intentions.
One more week and they would leave, and for the last time he would enjoy the freedom of the woods and the roads. They wanted to view the strange tree that had grown around and trapped the Primal Shadow with its glowing trunk and tender green leaves mixed with ones as black as night. They had set a permanent guard around it, and Davon couldn’t settle his mind on what it might mean for the Eternal Flame or the Primal Shadow.
At the very least, visiting it would give him an excuse to get outdoors from time to time. Arianne kept trying to convince him that as King he would have the freedom to wander and hunt in nearby Harrickshire and the Ice Fire Mountains as often as he liked. He hoped it was true. He wanted to take her with him, and she seemed excited at the prospect. But would grand outdoor adventures simply turn into something they would like to do and never have time for?
Arianne stepped out of her apartment, wishing her Lady’s Maids farewell. Orianna had done her hair in dark ringlets, and she wore a new red dress trimmed in gold to replace the one her misfortunes had abused.
She had done so well at governing during difficult times. Davon thought his first act as King would be to hand the throne back to her. He had told her as much and she quite firmly insisted that it was Queen Filippa’s wish that he rule—and that he would be sleeping in a separate room from hers if he dared try to offload his responsibilities onto someone else.
“Are you ready, Lord Ember?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.
He extended his arm to her. “No. I look like a fool. This white robe is ridiculous.”
“Don’t worry, Davon. In a few months we’ll trade in your robe and have the tailors design some dashing, kingly attire for you.”
That brought him no comfort. The idea clearly amused her. He didn’t care what she or anyone else said; he would not wear lace on his cuffs or his collar like some of the nobles he had seen. He secretly hoped he could launder his hunting clothes into something acceptable for a throne, but Arianne would certainly object.
She nudged him gently. “You will make a great King, Davon, and one that does not have to listen to the House of Lords or even the House of Light. Imagine how easy that will make things for you.”
He grunted, not convinced. “About the House of Lords, when will the first executions take place?”
She frowned. “It will take time. The trials tend to drag on forever, and some of them will go free because they were more clever than others at concealing the evidence. Still, there are a number of estates you or I will need to appoint an heir for. It is a messy business. It will be good to leave Bellshire for a couple of weeks.”
On that Davon could agree. They would leave the House of Light and the House of Lords in charge of the recovery efforts in their absence. Fortunately, the Creetisians had done little damage to the cities they passed through, fully intending to take them for themselves. The major damage to Bellshire was the betrayal of so many nobles. Faith in and respect for the nobility had fallen so low that Davon feared a revolt would break out under his watch.
They stopped in front of the double doors by the side of the dais, two of the House Guard ready to pull the doors open for them. The murmur of voices on the other side hinted that the gallery of the Main Hall was full, everyone no doubt curious to see how the new Queen fared during her first public court.
Arianne stared at the door, face sobering. Davon turned her face towards his and kissed her.
“You are perfect,” he said. “I will be right by you. And I almost forgot something!”
He hiked up his robe until he could get to his jacket pocket underneath. He removed the new rose pendant he had carved for her, complete with a golden chain he had purchased for it. It was unpainted and unvarnished, just as the first he had given her.
She took it eagerly. “At last! I confess I was a bit jealous that you had carved a bird for Ki, but I see that you hadn’t forgotten me after all! Help me put it on.”
His thick fingers were ill equipped to manipulate the small clasp, but he managed it in the end. His reward was a long embrace and a longer kiss, much to the amusement of the House Guard. She released him, willing the flower to open.
“There,” she said, satisfied. “Now I have a favor to ask of you. You may be loath to do it, but it would leave a great impression on the assembly if you would enter as Khodo Khim. The nobility that is left will need frequent reminders that you can tear their heads off if I want you to.”
Davon changed, his girth crowding Arianne against the wall. The House Guard stared at him wide eyed.
“Don’t worry,” Arianne said soothingly, patting his shoulder. “He won’t eat you unless I say so. Open the doors.”
Sunlight fell over them as the doors swung aside, revealing a room as packed as Davon had surmised. There was no room for even one more person on the benches, and lords, ladies, and their children stood with their backs to every wall. Although the war was over, the guard in the Hall was thicker than ever.
The assembly rose as they walked forward, Arianne in the lead. The chatter rose as they ascended the dais, and Davon let loose a bellow to quiet them. Arianne flinched, and some of those standing fell back onto the benches. Silence fell.
Arianne placed her hand on his furry cheek and leaned in. “Would you please warn me when you are going to do that?”
She sat and Davon returned to his human form and stood beside her, eliciting gasps from the crowd as they seated themselves.
“Open the doors,” Arianne said. “Before I command Da…Lord Ember to retrieve the Primal Fire for our assembly, we must first deal with those I will not give the honor of seeing it. Bring in Justus Paige.”
The guard at the far door disappeared behind the giant ox, returning with a considerably thinner and cowering Justus Paige. He retched on the floor, face pallid and worn, and the assembly booed. Arianne closed her eyes, face hard. Davon wished he could hold her and comfort her. The courts had already condemned Mr. Paige, but she wished to make his sentencing public. Even so, this was the first man she would condemn to die, and it was clear she didn’t relish the task. When her eyes opened again, they were hard.
“Justus Paige, for your part in the plot to overthrow Bellshire, and for your involvement in events that ended the life of one beloved horse, you are sentenced to immediate death. Your hoarded wealth will be split among the victims of your nefarious enterprise. The sentence will be carried out immediately at the Drowning Bridge. Be gone!”
He started to weep, eliciting more abuse from the disgusted crowd. They waited while the soldiers dragged him out and servants cleaned his mess off the floor.
“Bring in Mr. Cranton!” she commanded.
Davon had to fight to keep from turning into a sabercat and tearing Arianne’s former clerk limb from limb. How dare he involve her in his treacherous schemes! How dare he lie and nearly get her killed!
“Mr. Cranton,” Arianne said, jaw set. “You disgust me. You betrayed the loyalty you owed to me and to my household and falsely implicated me in a conspiracy that nearly destroyed us all. Your persistence in your lies almost cost me my life. The courts have ruled that you are worthy of death. I cannot change that ruling, but I think I will slow that death a little. You will remain in a dungeon—a real one—for the rest of your days, a denizen of the dark. Take him away!”
Lastly, Arianne called in Duke Longford. The crowd jeered and scoffed, though Davon won
dered how many would-be traitors still lurked in the stands and now hurled abuse at the stoop-shouldered man. Prison and worry had ruined his proud frame, his face gaunt and eyes rimmed in darkness.
“Duke Longford,” Arianne began, “as you were the principal architect of this scheme in collaboration with Ambassador Horace Clout of Creetis, you have been found worthy of death by drowning. That sentence shall be carried out. But first you will act as the executioner of those whom you seduced into your plot with promises of power and wealth. You will pull the lever that sends them into the river. You will pull each corpse from the cage. You will throw each body into the river.”
The audience gasped. Duke Longford wilted. Davon regarded Arianne, her eyes tearing. This was taking its toll on her.
“Many of the condemned are people I once called friend, Duke Longford,” she said, voice heavy with emotion. “One I called husband. For your crime this nation has truly been punished, and you will not find rest until you have felt that weight yourself and seen the death of those you once called friends. Now go. You will begin your work with Justus Paige. More will follow.”
He left a defeated, beaten man to the boos and insults of his peers. Davon could pity him, but could not fault the justice that had found him. Arianne was fortunate that she had escaped a connection with the Longfords.
She cleared her throat. “We have one more criminal to contend with this day.”
Davon’s face pinched. They had talked last night only about the three.
“Bring in Emile Ironhorn!”
Davon swallowed as whispers of speculation hissed throughout the room.
“What are you doing?” Davon asked quietly.
Arianne grinned. A sinister one. “I am making some amends for our future children,” she returned.
Emile Ironhorn strode in as beautiful as a spring day. Her hair was down and her smile wide. Davon shook his head. Whatever Arianne had in mind, she clearly hadn’t told Emile about it. The poor woman looked like she had come in to claim some sort of reward. Emile caught his eye and winked and Davon felt sick. What was Arianne up to?
“Your Ladyship,” Emile said, bowing. “Thank you for bringing me here to your grand audience this morning. I wish to assure you that I had nothing to do with the Tahbor’s involvement with the betrayal of Bellshire when I was affianced to the Earl, nor was I aware of my parents’ involvement. I am quite innocent.”
“There is no evidence of your involvement in the plot,” Arianne said. “That is true.”
Emile beamed. “And I wonder if I might request a boon of the Queen?”
“I had not—”
“It is a simple thing, Your Grace,” she said. “It is the undoing of a mistake.”
“Go on.”
Davon again found Emile’s eyes on him. “The late Queen Filippa recently sundered the marriage between Lord Ember and me under the assumption that it was what I desired. I admit that my anger was hot upon finding that Baron Carver had abandoned me, and I said things that were hurtful toward him. I have, however, forgiven him now and wish that our marriage be reinstated.”
Davon felt his bile rise, scalding his throat. Arianne looked as if she were the sabercat, now.
“Wretched creature!” she exclaimed, standing. “How dare you! You have abused this man to his face and to every acquaintance, friend, and relative you have. You hated him when you married him and you hated him after.”
Blood drained from Emile’s face as Arianne stepped off the throne and walked toward her. “The only thing you love is rank and title, and people like you have no place in my good graces. Believe me, I will have my investigators scour your life, and if I have one hint that you were involved in the plot against Bittermarch I will put you in the cage and drown you myself.
“Until that time, I am stripping you of the rights to any inheritance of the Ironhorn estate after your parents and traitorous siblings are dead, and I am making you a steward over Frostbourne until such time as Davon’s children are to inherit it. You will oversee the reconstruction of the manor that was burned to ash by your vengefulness. If it is not done well, I will take from you your title and you will serve the rest of your days as a scullery maid!”
Arianne returned to her throne and sat, recovering her calm demeanor. The gallery was silent. “So, no, Lady Ironhorn, I will not reinstate your marriage, and to make sure you never have a chance at Davon Carver again, I will be marrying him myself this winter during the Day of Crossing celebration.”
Emile fainted, and by the crack of her head on the stones, Davon guessed it not a faint of affectation as the ladies would often do. The crowd went wild with chatter, and Arianne appeared content to let it run while Emile was removed from the Hall. Davon wondered how many knew that he would not only be their King upon marrying Arianne, but an absolute monarch.
Arianne’s face was happy again. “Davon, my dear, would you fetch the Eternal Flame? It is time for more pleasant matters.”
He nodded and transformed into the sabercat, quieting the crowd as he bounded away to everyone’s delight. The guard at the Flame Cathedral knew to open the doors for the huge, white sabercat, and he padded inside. With a few long strides he arrived at door sixteen and entered, pressing the lever to lower the pot to the ground. He regarded the dancing flames, thankful for its gifts that had turned a ruined life into one of health and happiness.
Unhooking the pot from the chain required his fingers, and he transformed briefly to do the task. Once a sabercat again, he took the pot’s handle in his teeth and returned to the Main Hall at a more leisurely pace to add some ceremony to its arrival. With stately motions he circled the ox, a Khodo Khim herself, who had carried the Eternal Flame across the wintry mountains. The assembly fell quiet as he approached the tripod and hung the pot on the hook. Doing it with his teeth rather than his hands complicated the task, but he managed it without dropping it on the ground.
He returned to his human form and to Arianne’s side, her face soft and inviting. “I love how you can change back and forth,” she whispered. “And your robe is quite fetching now that I’m used to it.”
He smirked at her, and she turned back to the assembly. “Mr. Goodwin!”
Every time Davon saw Mr. Goodwin he could hardly believe it was the same person. In appearance he was a young man now, thick dark hair framing a face full of vitality. When Davon asked him about his transformation, he said that he had thought that his gift from the Eternal Flame was long life, but now knew it to be something else he was just beginning to understand. To Davon, it was as if Elaine Brighton had somehow been the sun that had melted away all Mr. Goodwin’s icy bitterness and hoary age. She accompanied him, her arm in his, her blonde hair glowing in the morning sunshine like the yellow peony sticking out of Mr. Goodwin’s lapel.
“Mr. Goodwin,” Arianne said, “for your services to this Kingdom in tracking down and bringing in Justus Paige, all at great peril to yourself, and for your care of my sister during difficult times, I release you from the Queen’s dungeon and bestow upon you the rank of Baron. I give you the lands of Hightower to be yours in perpetuity as long as your family lives and serves Bittermarch.”
Davon grinned. To see the once jaded and world-weary Mr. Goodwin robbed of snide comments was a delight. Elaine squeezed his arm and he mastered himself as the applause died down.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said. “You are most generous. I know the place is beloved to you and I will care for it the best I can.”
“Good,” Arianne returned. “I’m sure you will. I leave it to Elaine to give you what thanks she will for your bravery on her behalf.”
“She accompanied me today, and that is thanks enough.”
Arianne invited Elaine to come to her, and they embraced.
“You will live with me here until your majority,” Arianne explained.
“Can Mr. Goodwin visit me?”
“Of course, as often as he likes.”
Arianne released her, and she returned to Mr
. Goodwin’s side. The crowd applauded again as they left. Davon put his hand on Arianne’s shoulder. It is a shame that I have to be King, he thought. She would do better than I. Maybe she will let me be Huntmaster.
She glanced up at him. “I know that look, Davon. You will not escape this chair. Do you hear me?”
Chapter 56
Davon sat on a log near the edge of the Aua’Catan gathering place—the Pahk—with Arianne next to him huddling under a buffalo hide blanket. They had arrived earlier that afternoon after a four day journey made in haste. Circumstances in Bellshire forced them to delay their departure from Bittermarch for nearly three weeks until they both felt they could leave without the country falling apart.
Ki had returned to Bellshire before they left, bringing word that the A’Kor would receive them and was anxious for the return of the Primal Water to his people. They came quickly, using a small barrel to hold the sacred element on their journey north. On horse it took four days to get to the ice mining town of Windgate.
Once there, Ki managed to convince Arianne that her dresses simply wouldn’t do for the hiking and climbing required to reach Jun’Kal. While Arianne refused to wear the jerkins without proper undergarments and a shirt underneath, after a day of walking in the hide pants of the Aua’Catan, she proclaimed them quite liberating.
Davon liked them on her, too, though he kept that thought to himself. The A’Kor received them cordially, the gift of the Primal Water smoothing away his objections to outsiders arriving. As a concession, Arianne had left the fifty soldiers that had accompanied them north to quarter in Windgate.
After gifting the Aua’Catan with the Primal Water, he and Arianne had spoken with the A’Kor and the T’Mak about their experiences with the Shadow and the bear that had dragged off Melchor Raines. Ki provided her own testimony of the events, but even then the A’Kor and the T’Mak disavowed any lore of a Primal Shadow and insisted the Hahka and its bear-like appearance were just stories and always had been.
Flametouched Page 54