Chiana's head jerked up, and she glared at him, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. He leant over her and thrust his face close to hers, meeting her furious eyes.
"Come on, Chiana, hate me. Hit me! You want to, I know you do."
Chiana lashed out, and he ducked in the nick of time. Frustration flared in her eyes. She lunged at him, took him by surprise and landed a glancing blow on his cheek as he jerked his head aside. He pushed her back onto the bed, sending her sprawling, but she sat up quickly, her eyes bright with rage. Already she was entering the silent phase of the slow healing process that would take many days to complete, and it was unlikely that she would speak again during that time. She glared at him, and he sat beside her to study her grim, tight-lipped visage.
"Good, you are coming along well. I do hate being a punching bag, so I hope you will appreciate this one day. Want to take another swing at me?"
As he had anticipated, the slightest provocation was enough to bring a reaction, and she aimed a slap at his face. He evaded it, which added to her ire, and she flailed at him, forcing him to fend off or avoid her blows, although a few landed. When she stopped, he goaded her again, braving several more attacks as he continued to rile her until she failed to react. She stared into space, and he waited. After a few minutes, she rose and wandered around the room. Her eyes flicked to the balcony doors often, and he was ready to prevent another rush at them. Instead, she continued to roam the room, picking up things and throwing them down.
Priceless vases and ornaments smashed on the floor, then, when that lost its appeal, she hurled things. She was entering her destructive phase, something he had not had the luxury of going through. Ornaments flew across the room, smashing the wall mirrors, and when all the breakables were exhausted, she started on the curtains. Silk and velvet drapes were ripped down with satisfying rending noises, then kicked across the room. When the windows were bare, the tapestries followed, then the pictures. Blade watched with a slight smile as his gentle wife proceeded to trash the room, leaving piles of torn cloth and broken china in her wake. Lastly, she yanked open her wardrobe and pulled out her gowns, ripping them up as much as she could before hurling them across the room.
When only a few dresses remained on the hangers, she sank down, her face blank and pale with exhaustion. Thirteen days in a coma had left her weak and dehydrated, despite the sugar water Verdan had fed her, and until now, fury and grief had fuelled her. Now that was exhausted. Blade rose, stretched, and walked over to pull her to her feet, helping her to the bed, where he pushed her down. Her eyelids drooped, and he lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. When she closed her eyes, he went to the doors and let himself out. Verdan and several maidens waited outside, and the old healer hurried over to Blade, his face taut with concern.
"Is she all right?"
"She will be."
Verdan sagged. "Thank God."
"He had nothing to do with it."
"How is she?"
"Asleep. Have someone sit with her. I need a drink."
Verdan caught Blade's arm as he turned away. "My Lord, should you not stay?"
"No."
"What about when she wakes?"
"Call me. But do not speak to her, understand? She will not talk to you right now, anyway."
"What happened? We heard things breaking."
Blade jerked his arm from the healer's grasp. "She will need new furnishings, ornaments and clothes."
"Will she not try to kill herself again?"
"She may, but not while she is asleep."
Chiana slept through the night, and Blade spent a good portion of it indulging in a generous bout of drinking. Arken woke him at dawn to inform him that his wife was awake, and Verdan urgently required his presence. He groaned and clutched his aching head when he sat up, waiting until the throbbing ebbed slightly before he rose and dressed.
Verdan met him at Chiana's door, looking anxious. Blade found his wife up and dressed in a pale grey gown, suspiciously serene. Her maidens bustled around her, laced her gown and brushed her hair while she stood staring into space. She ignored his arrival, and he turned to Verdan, running a hand through his hair.
"What is the problem?"
"Is she all right? She will not speak."
"No, she will not for a while yet."
Blade yawned and flopped into a chair, eyeing his wife, who stood like a statue, her hands folded before her. A maiden entered carrying a tray laden with a plate of grilled ham, poached eggs, and a pot of aromatic tea. She placed it on a table and poured the tea, adding milk and sugar. The girls tugged Chiana over to it, and although she followed them, she ignored the food.
Blade stifled another yawn. "She will not eat."
The room had been tidied, he noticed. The torn curtains and broken ornaments were gone, leaving it bare and drab. Chiana wandered around it, ignoring the girls' attempts to make her sit down. Blade watched them with growing irritation.
"Leave her alone," he finally said.
They retreated to a twittering huddle, and Verdan turned to the assassin.
"How long will she be like this?"
Blade shrugged. "I do not know."
"How long were you like this?"
"Two days."
"Then she will talk again?"
The assassin accepted a cup of tea from a maiden and sipped it with a grimace. "Perhaps."
Verdan snorted. "I thought you knew about this?"
"It is different for everyone." Blade studied his wife. "She was bonded to her familiar far longer than I was to mine, so her grief will be greater."
"Will she try to kill herself again?"
"Probably."
Verdan sighed and sank down in the chair opposite Blade, eyeing the assassin. "Tell me about what happened to you."
"Why would you want to know that?"
"It may help me to understand her."
Blade lowered his eyes to the steaming cup of tea on the table. He disliked the stuff, but he was thirsty after his bout of drinking, and it was wet. The memories of his ordeal had dimmed with time, though some were still bright with pain, and he had never spoken about it to anyone. Now Chiana's suffering brought it all back, and he found that he was not averse to telling the old healer.
"Two dozen children were taken from my village," he said, "but only a handful lost their familiars. Most were bonded to small creatures that escaped unharmed, like birds and insects, a few lizards and mice, a couple of snakes. After I woke, I was tied up in an officer's tent and left alone, for the most part. The Cotti had plenty of experience in dealing with the Bereft. They knew exactly what to do, so they made no mistakes. The officer would come in from time to time and kick or slap me, and he made certain that I could not kill myself."
Verdan's brows rose. "You wanted to?"
"Oh yes, all people do when they find themselves Bereft. I was kept tied up through all the stages of the unbonding. I lay unmoving for four days. First there is the strong wish to follow the familiar into death. When that fails, rage takes over, and hatred. During this stage, I wanted to kill the officer who kept me in his tent, but of course, I could not.
"After a few time-glasses this wears off, and then I just wanted to destroy everything around me. This is followed by a few days of introspection, when I was oblivious to my surroundings, as she is now. During this time most people come to terms with their loss and resolve to continue living, though some are little more than zombies. After that I became rational again, but I was a different person."
The healer glanced at Chiana, his expression grim. "What do you mean by unbonding?"
"I lost most of my feline traits, just as she is losing her dove's gentleness. Without a familiar, we are merely human."
"And truly alone."
Blade sipped his tea and pulled a face. "Yes. The sorrow can be overwhelming, and after losing my parents and familiar in the battle, I was forced to watch my sisters die. Chiana will be spared that, so she should not become too d
ifferent."
"Why did you tell her to kill you?"
"Because I knew she could not, and her attempts to make herself do it would purge the desire for it."
"Why did she want to kill someone? I thought she only wished to end her own life."
The assassin smiled. "But I was preventing her, so she wanted to remove me."
"I see." Verdan stared at his clasped hands. "So now we wait."
"Yes."
Chapter Twenty Two
Chiana remained in her serene stage for two more days, and her servants began to relax. Blade remained vigilant, and spent a fair bit of time with her, studying her mood. When he was certain that she was not about to snap out of her introspection, he would return to his rooms. On the third day, he was forced to give another brief audience, but it ended without mishap. The lords brought only a few minor, urgent issues to his attention. He knew that they were waiting for Chiana to return to her office before they brought more serious matters for consideration, for which he was glad.
Afterwards, he made his way to Chiana's rooms, still clad in his court finery. He found her sitting listlessly on her cushions, a tray of pastries untouched beside her. Her maidens had returned to their embroidery, and Verdan dozed on a chair near the window, basking in the autumn sun's fading warmth. Insash was also in attendance, his nose buried in a tome. Blade frowned at their inattention, his gaze sharpening when he noticed that Chiana's eyes were focussed on her hands, which were clasped in her lap. He walked towards her, and she looked up at the sound of his footsteps.
The utter despair in her eyes warned him, and he quickened his strides. She rose in a fluid motion, causing the maidens to glance at her, their needles poised. Moving with determined speed, Chiana headed for the balcony doors.
"Chiana! No!" Blade broke into a run, cursing the size of the room and the distance that still separated them.
The maidens jumped up, throwing down their embroidery. Verdan woke with a snort, and Insash glanced up in confusion. The girls were too slow, and Chiana thrust open the balcony doors before Blade could reach her. She ran to the balustrade and flung herself over it, her arms outstretched like slender wings.
Blade lunged after her, grabbing her wrist as she sailed into space. The balustrade caught him across the hips, stopping his forward motion with a jolt. The force of her fall almost ripped her from his grip, and her weight jerked him partially over the balustrade, his feet leaving the floor as he teetered. For an instant he thought he would follow her down to the flagstones far below, and the world spun. Then many hands grabbed him from behind, pulling him back to safety, but his hand slipped on her wrist and pain shot through his arm and shoulder.
Chiana looked up at him, her eyes dark with sorrow. "Let me go."
"No."
"I do not want to live without her."
"You must." He grunted as the balustrade dug into his ribs.
"I cannot."
"I will not let you die."
"Why not?" Two tears ran down her cheeks. "You do not love me. You never will. What do I have to live for?"
"A lot." Blade groaned, his hand aching from the strain. He tried to reach her wrist with his other hand, but it was too far away. "Give me your other hand."
"No. I want to die. There is no reason to go on."
"There is. Damn it, Chiana, give me your hand!"
She flexed her wrist, weakening his hold. It slipped, and despair washed through him. If she died, he would be Regent for another ten years.
"Do not leave me, Chiana."
Her eyes filled with surprise and doubt. "You do not love me."
"You do not know that."
"You have told me many times."
"How do you know it was true?"
"How do I know you are not lying now?"
"You do not." Blade struggled to cling to her, sweat dewing his brow. "But I could be telling the truth."
Those behind him tried to pull him back, but her weight held him over the railing, and the angle of his arm made retreat impossible. They could not reach her, and her life depended solely upon his weakening hold on her wrist. Men ran about below, staring up at them, some pointing and exclaiming in horror.
"Then say it, Blade."
He gritted his teeth at the pain of the stone digging into his chest. "Take my hand, and I will."
"No. Say it now."
"I cannot hold on much longer."
"Then say it, before it is too late."
"Damn you." Blade grimaced, gasping as her weight bent him cruelly over the railing.
Chiana twisted her wrist, and his hand slipped. He was no longer certain that he could save her, even if she co-operated, yet still the words stuck in his throat. It was just another lie, a meaningless platitude to save her and free him from the onerous office of regent. He groaned, biting his lip as he tried to pull her up so he could reach her with his other hand, but his grip on her wrist was not strong enough to withstand the change of angle that it entailed. Blade gasped, gazing down at her, certain that at any moment he would be forced to watch her fall to the paving stones far below. This would have to be the most convincing lie he ever told, or she would ensure that she fell, he knew.
Blade met her sorrowful, despairing eyes, which begged for the one thing he could not give, and without which she would die.
"I love you, Chiana."
Her eyes closed, and she seemed to savour the words he knew she had never expected to hear. When she opened them again, fresh tears streamed from them, but a slight smile curved her mouth. Her hand closed around his wrist with surprising strength, gripping the dagger sheath strapped there, which provided excellent purchase.
Blade pulled her up, his arm trembling with the strain. She reached up with her other hand, taking his when he stretched it down to her. With both her hands in his grasp, he lifted her far enough for Insash to lean over and grab her arm, and between them they pulled her over the railing. As soon as she was on the balcony, Blade flopped down on his back and clasped his arm, which burnt and throbbed. Verdan fussed over Chiana, and between him and the maidens, they tugged her inside. Insash squatted beside the railing, studying the assassin with newfound respect.
"That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. You caught her in mid-air. And to be able to hold onto her like that..." The advisor shook his head. "Few men would have such strength."
Blade flexed his aching hand. "Assassins need strong hands. We sometimes use them to break men's necks."
Insash recoiled from Blade's harsh words, as he had intended. A rush of fresh bitterness filled him, a deep anger at being forced to utter the words he had vowed never to speak. Somehow their utterance had diminished him, robbing him of the cold aloofness he treasured so much, and he resented it. Insash held out a hand to help him up, but he ignored it and rose to his feet unaided. He entered the room and headed for the door, longing for the solitude of his rooms.
"Blade, wait."
The assassin turned, his hard eyes lashing the pale woman who sat on the bed, surrounded by her handmaidens. She made a curt gesture, which included Verdan and Insash.
"Leave us."
They filed out and closed the door. Chiana rose and approached him, her eyes gentle and sorrowful.
"I will live for you. So long as you never rescind those words, even if they were a lie. Inka is gone and can never return, now only you can fill my heart and bring me joy."
His resentment flared at her assumption. "How do you know that they were a lie?"
She smiled, stopping before him. "I do not. Why could you not let me die?"
"I do not want to be Regent."
"Ah. A good answer. And true, I would wager. But your words were not a lie, were they?"
He gazed at her, longing to deny them. "No."
Her smile widened, and raw adoration blazed in her eyes. She reached for his hands, but he clasped them behind his back.
"This changes nothing."
"It changes everything. I did not think I
would know joy again until you spoke those words."
"I shall leave in the morning."
"No!" Her smile vanished, and she stepped closer, reaching up to grip the lapels of his jacket as if she intended to physically prevent him from leaving. "You cannot leave me now."
"You cannot stop me. I am going to kill Endor."
"No. I forbid it. Killing him will not bring Inka back, but he may take you from me also, and that I could not bear."
"I swore to avenge you."
She shook her head. "I am not dead."
"He killed a part of you, and, had I not been here to prevent it, you would have died too."
"But you are as good at saving lives as you are at taking them." She released him and walked over to the table to pour herself a cup of wine. "If he kills you, I shall have no reason to live."
"He will not kill me."
"Bolt and Lance failed, and are probably dead. Clearly he is well prepared and protected."
"That will do him no good. Lance was my apprentice, and a good assassin, but he was not me. He made a mistake. I will not."
She took a gulp of wine. "Because you are the legendary Queen's Blade, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"You are not invincible. You retired fifteen years ago, and should not have renounced it."
"I had to, there were Cotti princes who needed killing."
"And now you have killed them." Chiana returned to stand before him. "Have you not had your fill of death yet?"
"Long since, but my need for vengeance remains."
"Why do you feel the need to avenge my suffering?"
"You are my wife. The insults and torments he inflicted upon you are an insult to me, as he intended. That is why he did it."
The Queen's Blade V - Master of the Dance Page 26