Blade went to the table and poured himself a cup of wine, draining it in two gulps. "This is why assassins do not marry, and few have families even out of wedlock. Their womenfolk are vulnerable to vengeance seekers, or those who hate assassins. His death is my payment for hiding Kerra. I am going to kill that bastard, and nothing you can do or say will stop me."
She bowed her head, gazing down at the wine in her cup. "Then at least wait a few days. I am not yet ready to take up my office again."
He sighed. "Two days then, no more."
She raised her head and walked over to him. "And will you promise to return?"
"No."
"You must!" Chiana put down her cup, gazing at him. "Please do not disappear again. I need you with me now more than ever."
"I am not your pawn, to be commanded. I please myself, and I hate this place."
"I am not commanding you. I am begging you."
"No." He put down his cup and spun on his heel, heading for the door.
"If you do not return, I shall kill myself."
Blade turned in the doorway, his eyes chips of grey ice. "You are trying to blackmail me?"
"Do you care enough for it to work?"
Once again he longed to deny it, but could not. "I certainly resent it enough to make you regret it."
"I would never regret it, no matter how cruel or unpleasant you are."
Blade turned and walked out, closing the door. Chiana stared at it, her emotions a confused, conflicting melee. Grief sat like a cold stone in her heart, constant and heavy, making her eyes burn with unshed tears. Around it, like a gossamer veil, was the joy that Blade's words had brought, fragile and flickering, cushioning the awful pain of her loss and making her continued existence bearable. Mixed with them were strange new feelings of hatred and bitterness, a deep, burning loathing for the man who had slain her familiar, and a strange exultation at the prospect of his death at the hands of her husband.
In addition, there was a hot, passionate terror that he may fail, and suffer the same fate as Lance and Bolt, a prospect she could not bear to contemplate. She was not certain she would be able to carry on without him. Her love for him, and the precious words he had spoken to save her, were all she had to cling to now. They echoed in her mind, bringing a soft stab of joy each time. How often had she dreamt of hearing those words from him? A thousand, perhaps. Now she had a memory to cherish, one that was burnt into her mind forever.
Verdan glanced around as the doors to Chiana's suite opened. The assassin emerged, looking angry. Insash waited beside the healer, along with a bevy of servants laden with trays of food, which they took in to Chiana's room at a nod from Insash. Verdan stepped into Blade's path when he would have walked past them without pause.
"Will she be all right now?"
"Yes."
The healer sagged with relief. "Thank you, Lord Conash."
"There is no need to thank me for saving my own wife, Verdan. I did not do it for you."
"But we have great need of her, as Regent."
"As do I."
Blade stepped around Verdan and walked away, leaving the two men gazing after him.
"Strange man," Insash commented.
"Very," Verdan agreed. "But with all that he has been through, it is not surprising. He is, of course, deeply disturbed."
"Mad, you mean?"
"On the brink of it, I would say."
Insash's brows rose. "And this is the man you wanted to rule Jashimari?"
"He did it, and he saved the Regent. His kind of madness is not the sort that leads to rash acts. I only mean that he is capable of many things that you and I are not, yet he is incapable of a great many things that most men take for granted."
"Like love."
Verdan shook his head. "Oh no, I think he is capable of feeling that. He is just not able to show it."
The next day, Chiana sought out her husband, and found him sitting under a tree in the garden. He shot her an irritated look when she sank down on the grass before him, uncaring of her rich satin dress. She had made a special effort with her appearance, and her maids had spent time-glasses dressing her hair in a fetching pile of ringlets, curls and plaits sprinkled with jewelled pins. A little rouge brightened her cheeks and berry juice reddened her lips. Kohl, newly imported from Cotti, darkened her eyes.
Blade frowned when she wriggled closer to his outstretched legs and placed a hand on his knee. Her eyes roamed over his face, coming to rest on the pale pink scar that ran along his cheekbone. Shocked, she reached out and touched it without thinking. He did not recoil from her caress, but merely watched her with arctic eyes.
"How did you get this?"
"A fight."
"Tell me about it, please. I long to hear everything that happened to you in Cotti."
He tilted his head. "Why?"
"Because I was not there to share it with you, silly."
His eyes roamed over her face. "You look like a tart."
"There is not pleasing you, is there? When I dress drably, you say I am dowdy. When I try to look nice, you call me a tart."
"I did not call you a tart; I said you look like one."
"It is the same thing."
"No, it is not. That muck does not become you, Chiana."
She smiled. "Do you care what I look like?"
"Not particularly."
"Then why do you comment on it?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "Because you are doing it to try to please me, and it does not."
"I see. Then I shall wash it off. Now will you tell me what happened to you in Cotti?"
Blade's eyes flicked past her, and he stared into space as he related the tale in some detail. It was not merely the story that fascinated her, but the soft timbre of his voice and the fact that she was able to study him while he spoke without appearing to stare. The story ended with his arrival at the palace to find her in a coma, and himself the Regent.
"Was that when you realised what you felt for me?"
He looked at her. "No."
"When did you then?"
"I am not going to discuss my feelings with you. The subject is closed."
Her eyes stung, and she lowered them to his hands. "You cannot continue to be so cold towards me now that you have revealed your feelings."
"Watch me."
Two tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks, making him snort and frown. She murmured, "I thought you professed not to be a cruel man."
"I am not," he retorted. "It is you who torment yourself with dreams of what can never be."
"You do not know what I dream, but it is not the dreams that torment me, only your refusal to offer me even the smallest amount of comfort."
He rested his head against the tree. "I can never be what you want."
"You do not know what I want."
"I have a fair idea."
"Are you incapable of a kind word or a soft glance? Is it too much to ask for an occasional embrace, a few chaste kisses?"
"Yes."
"No." She brushed the tears from her cheeks and frowned at him. "It is not that you cannot, but that you will not."
"I cannot. Such things are alien to me now. I would not know how to do them, and I have no wish to learn."
Chiana leant closer and laid a hand on his chest. "Then at least let me. Do not push me away."
He glanced down at her hand. "I dislike such attentions."
"You fear them. You are afraid that the ice around your heart will melt, and I may actually touch it. Although you have admitted your feelings, your love is as frozen as your passions. Locked away from public view, for fear of finding scorn, or worse still, pity from others."
"I care nothing for what other people think."
"Do you care what I think?"
His mouth curved in a slight, grim smile. "I know what you want. You long to tame me. To touch that which has never been touched. To be held by hands that have only ever killed. To be the only one who is safe in my embrace. That is what draws
you to me, like others before you. Be content with the words you forced me to speak yesterday. There, you have succeeded where all others have failed. I am not a man to be trifled with, and to ask for more will only end in disappointment."
"Because you are the legendary Queen's Blade, a man of ice. A cold-hearted killer, immune to gentleness and affection. Not so, Blade? You pride yourself on your aloofness, your invulnerability. You admit to loving me, yet you will not show it. There is no shame in it."
"You know nothing." He pushed her away and tried to rise, but she shoved him back, holding him to the tree.
"I know what it is to love you. I know the pain of your rejection and the joy of your love. I care nothing for what you are, or how many you have killed. It is who you are that draws me, not your prowess or your fame. I felt it the first time I set eyes upon you, and I did not know who or what you were then."
"It must have been a great disappointment to find that I am less than you had hoped."
She nodded. "It was, but it changed nothing. You are afraid I will ask for more than you can give, but that, I will never do."
"You do not know just how little I have to give."
"Then show me. It will be better than nothing."
A slight, cold smile quirked his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. Chiana held her breath as he raised his hands and cupped her face. She closed her eyes, savouring the caress. His hands dropped to her wrists and gripped them, making her gasp and open her eyes. Pushing her away, he rose to his feet in a fluid motion and pulled her up. His brutal grip on her bruised wrists brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she bit her lip as she met his impassive gaze.
"You have had all that I have to offer," he said. "Be content."
"You do not rescind your words?"
"No."
Blade released her and strode away, leaving her gazing after him through her tears.
Chiana did not seek him out again. The hurt of his continued rejection mixed oddly with the happiness his admission of love had brought, and it echoed constantly in her mind. At night, she dreamt of him speaking the words again, but this time with warmth and affection in his eyes instead of resentment.
Blade left the palace on the third day, without visiting her, and she only knew that he had gone when the servants called her Regent once more. She returned to her duties with a heavy heart and a distant, sorrowful expression. At her first audience, the lords treated her gently, forgoing their usual rivalry and rancour, and agreeing with most of her suggestions without debate. The news of Blade's timely rescue brought praise for him from those who sought her favour, and none dared to voice a dislike for the assassin's regency; not even Fothal.
In truth, he had done little to earn their displeasure, since his brief rule had been marked by his lack of interest in it. She got through the days in a haze of ill-concealed grief and worry. Blade's reluctant words were the only bastion of joy to which she could cling. Verdan fed her tonics to build her strength, and gradually the colour returned to her cheeks and the dark rings under her eyes faded. Blade's absence ate at her as it had never done before, and the prospect that he may not return filled her sleep with unpleasant dreams.
Chapter Twenty Three
"The Queen's Blade is in Ashmarad."
Endor turned away from his senior general to hide the triumphant, nervous smile that twisted his lips. "Good. Where is he staying?"
"The spies are unable to discover that. His presence is learnt of only after he has left the place where he was seen."
"They are certain it is him?"
"Yes, My Prince."
Endor swung to face the officer. "I want you to find me the four best assassins in Ashmarad. Offer them a vast payment and tell them to go to Jondar and kill the Jashimari Regent."
"May I ask why, My Prince?"
"Why I want that whore dead? I would have thought that fairly obvious, Ballel. She wants me dead, so I am reciprocating in kind. Jashimari should have been thrown into turmoil when she fell into a coma, but it was not, because he became the damned Regent.
"Now she must pay the ultimate price for sending him to try to kill me. This time he will not be there to save her, or his accursed kingdom. Before he dies, I shall inform him of her imminent demise. It will make my triumph complete."
"Yes, My Prince." The officer bowed as Endor dismissed him with a gesture. The Prince went to the table and poured himself a cup of strong spirit, slugging it back with a grimace. Now that his wish was granted, he found the prospect of being hunted by the legendary assassin far more disquieting than he had anticipated.
To comfort himself, Endor contemplated the tortures he would inflict upon Blade when he captured him, and refused to entertain the notion that the assassin might succeed. In the back of his mind, a lingering doubt plagued him, however, and he found himself glancing into the shadows often, wondering if a black-clad man might be secreted there. He doubled the palace guard and locked himself in his rooms at night, but the precautions did little to allay his fears.
Blade studied the castle from a neighbouring hilltop, using his spyglass to count the guards that patrolled it, noting their routes and the times of their changing. So far, he had found few weaknesses. Endor seemed to have devoted his entire army to guarding himself. This did not surprise Blade, and experience had taught him that there was always a weak point, either overlooked or dismissed as impossible by the defenders. Each night, he returned to the city and slept in a different inn, arriving late and eating his meals in his room.
Each day, he rode around the castle, which was situated on a hill just outside the city, studying it from different angles. He had visited the two largest and most affluent brothels to make discrete enquiries into Endor's taste in women. There he learnt that Endor sent for women regularly, even though he had a harem of wives and concubines in the castle. His preference was for buxom, bosomy young girls, however, short of stature and plump of face. This ruled out the use of Blade's female disguise, somewhat to his relief. Endor's cruelty to the girls was well known. They always returned bruised and beaten, and some did not return at all.
Ashmarad's populace had suffered under Cotti rule. Endor's taxes had beggared the city's wealthier citizens and brought the entire economy down. The areas closest the castle comprised mansions and businesses; the rest was a sprawling warren of stinking, squalid slums. Cotti culture had influenced the architecture, and the temples had domes and minarets instead of steeples and tiled roofs, while the houses were similar to those in Jashimari. Cotti had influenced the language too, and it possessed more of the shortened words that Cotti liked to use, but without their accent.
Blade had spent the past tenday studying the city and the castle, as well as learning all he could about Endor's habits. The tale of Lance's attempt was still told in taprooms, and he had heard it several times now. His apprentice's plan had not been a bad one. Its only flaw was that he had been dealing with a Prince guarded by soldiers, and not a rich merchant with a few bodyguards. Cotti princes were trained in combat, and so were dangerous in themselves, but to attack Endor while he was surrounded by dog soldiers had been a fatal mistake.
Blade had already rejected the idea of making the attempt when Endor was in the city, and turned his attention to the castle instead. Most assassins would have viewed it as impregnable, but Blade had yet to find a building that could keep him out. Each night, after studying the castle, he would make a foray closer to it, enter the grounds and creep about the gardens and courtyards to spy out the lay of the land. The place abounded with dog soldiers, which would have been enough to put off most men.
It presented a problem, but Blade had already come up with a solution. There was a stray bitch in the city that was near to her heat, and he planned to enlist her aid. Familiars were less inclined to be influenced by carnal pursuits, but they were not immune to them. He had considered various plans by now and rejected them, resolving to rely purely upon his skills of stealth and trickery, with a little help from the bitch.
On the eleventh night, a Death Moon hung in the sky like a grinning skull, and various religious cults emerged to worship it. This was unheard-of in Jashimari and Cotti, where all worship other than Tinsharon's was forbidden, and punishable by death. In Contara, however, he had discovered that morals and religions were free to do as they pleased, which led to a rather debauched society with a plethora of myths, cults and strange gods. On this, the night of a full Death Moon, bonfires were lighted in the city, and scantily clad people danced around them. Torch-bearing processions marched through the streets, and the people, dressed in robes and skull masks, chanted and sang.
His study of the castle had at last revealed a weak point, as he had hoped. One side of the building was a blank wall some fifty feet high, devoid of widows or parapets, and consequently, guards. His study of Endor's movements had narrowed the position of his rooms to an area atop the wall, the most difficult place to reach, unless one scaled it. Even reaching the base of the wall was fraught with peril, and to do so he would require the bitch, and a distraction.
When darkness fell and the celebrations in the city were in full swing, Blade made his way into the slums to find the bitch. She was surrounded by admirers, but followed him when he slipped a rope around her neck and showed her the piece of meat he had bought for her. With a pack of dogs at his heels, he made his way through the outskirts of the city towards the castle, his bag heavy with the rope and tinder he had brought.
Reaching the castle wall, he tied the bitch to a tree and located the rough patch he had found on a previous foray, where his fingers could find purchase between the stones. On top of the wall, he waited while two quartets of guards strolled past, then slid down it into the shadows at its base. Across the courtyard lay the armoury, filled with spears and bows, which would provide an excellent distraction once he had set it ablaze.
To reach it, he had to make his way along the walls, since crossing the well-lighted courtyard was out of the question. This took several minutes, and he was forced to freeze in the shadows a few times when guards appeared. He had bathed before he had left the inn, scrubbing off all odour, but even so, the dogs would smell him if he was not careful to stay downwind. Reaching the armoury door without mishap, he found it locked. It took only a few moments to pick the lock, and he slipped inside.
The Queen's Blade V - Master of the Dance Page 27