"But he and Cyril will need my vote on the council--what if some unforeseen circumstance arises . . ."
"Hush." I put my fingers over his lips. "Merius is fully capable of handling unforeseen circumstances--never forget, he's the one who identified Cyranea as Peregrine's weakest link and how best to influence her. And he had a horrendous hangover at the time. Why did you exhaust yourself over his training, if not for this moment? Now, come here." I towed him over to the bed. "I want you to lie down."
"Eden, I have to follow you. What if Peregrine decides to try something?"
"Randel can follow me. And Peregrine won't try anything, not with me--he sees me as his only potential ally in the House of Landers."
"How do you know what he's thinking?" Mordric muttered. Trying to get him to sit on the bed was like trying to bend a poker. He finally sat, only to encircle my wrist with his manacle grip. "How do you know?" he repeated. "Those rumors about you and him . . ."
"Are rumors, sir. We may have had a tryst or two when we were young, but not in years--he's not my fancy. I can't abide men with blue eyes. Now, I want you to lie here and hopefully sleep--you tossed and turned all last night. You know where the whiskey is if you need it. The best gift you can give me is your good humor." I kissed him firmly and then strode toward the door to the outer chamber, feeling the warmth of him simmering behind me. I couldn't turn around, I couldn't relax my shoulders, I couldn't show any sign of wavering in the face of his silent irritation. I pulled the door shut behind me and then leaned against it to catch my breath. Randel rose from the wine-colored cushions of my settee and angled his head, his knitted brow asking several unspoken questions.
"Sir Mordric is resting. I don't think he got much sleep last night."
Randel nodded and checked the buckle of his sword scabbard. "So I'm to follow you?"
"Yes. You know to stay out of sight?"
He nodded again. "If Sir Bara happens to see me, we want him to think that I'm there without your knowledge, that I'm spying for Sir Mordric."
"Good man." I repressed a smile at his quiet seriousness. He would take any smile from me as a sign of frayed nerves, and he would be right.
"You actually got him to lie down, Lady Eden?" Randel whispered as we approached the door to the hallway. When I gave him a quizzical look, he jerked his thumb toward my bedchamber.
"I offered him whiskey," I said, as if it were the simple answer to all life's problems.
"Well, I suppose you have more experience than most handling difficult men," Randel said without cracking even the hint of a smile.
"I'll tell him you said he's difficult." I was equally serious.
"Dear God, my lady, I didn't mean that."
I couldn't help a laugh. "I never thought I'd hear you beg me for anything."
He stiffened. "I most expressly did not beg, Lady Eden."
"Ah, my good man, but you will. You will." I laughed again at the horror slackening his expression before I swept out of the chamber. It felt so good to laugh, like champagne bubbles tickling loose the taut strings of my nerves.
Aside from the middle of the night, mid-afternoon had to be the most peaceful time around the palace, particularly the mid-afternoon of a holy day. There was no council on holy days, no balls or feasts for the servants to prepare, no clanging and tramping of the king's guard at practice. Many napped, had a smoke, said prayers, took a walk, or enjoyed a leisurely tumble (my preference) after the noon meal, as I only saw a few other people, mostly servants, wandering the halls. This made it an excellent time for clandestine meetings--although there was always the chance someone might see us and remark on it to the wrong person later, it was a less likely chance now than at any other time. Therefore I was not surprised to find Peregrine alone on the parapet.
I had hesitated meeting him in his rooms, as Randel couldn't easily follow me there, and so I had suggested the parapet. Safire had said once, blushing, that she and Merius had met there during their secret courtship and had been undisturbed for at least a couple hours, which was unlikely to happen in any other common area at the palace such as the library or solarium. Myself, I never would have met a lover on the parapet--the wind and open sky overhead made me feel far too exposed, heights gave me needle pricks in my stomach, and the stone walls just looked uncomfortable. Leave it to her and Merius to pick such an impractical spot. One would think they were wild birds mating on the wing.
Well, I wasn't planning to tumble Peregrine, so for my purposes, the parapet was perfect. There was even a little shadowy vestibule between the door and the outside where Randel could lurk unseen. I proceeded forward with all the outer trappings of confidence even as I quaked inside. I just hoped I was as good an actress as Safire insisted I was.
He leaned against the outer wall overlooking the river, smoking a pipe. When he saw me, he took one last draw before he tapped out the ash on the wall. Then he pocketed the pipe and came forward, exhaling blue smoke that rapidly twisted away on the wind that seemed to always blow up here.
"My lady," he said, raising my hand to his lips in an exaggerated mockery of the courtly gesture. "You smell as if you've been smoking too." He leaned forward and sniffed the low collar of my summer frock. "His Highness's finest, I'll be bound." He raised his head, his eyes half-lidded as he leered. "Does Her Highness Esme know?"
"That I smoke the prince's pipe weed? I should hope not--that would be a scandal indeed." I freed my hand from his and half-turned from him as I leaned against the wall. "Almost as bad a scandal as your friend Sullay," I remarked with a sideways glance.
"He's no friend of mine. I don't keep fools for friends." He cupped the edge of wall with his hands and stared over it at the river roiling far below. My eyes ran over the scarlet and gray diamond pattern of his vest-style doublet, the silver slashes winking as the wind billowed out his sleeves. He did know how to dress--Mordric and Merius, Merius in particular, could have learned a thing or two. Safire waged a constant battle against Merius's sartorial indifference--at least she was still trying. She managed to get him looking decent for council most days, even though he still apparently didn't know how to shave.
A tendril of hair blew in my eyes, and I tucked it behind my ear. "What do you think Sullay should have done differently?"
"First of all, he should have just accepted the magistrate's summons and then fled afterwards. All he managed to do by hiding from Ragnar was make his crime seem worse than it was. And if he was going to be stupid enough to shoot Merius, he should have had someone else with better aim do it." Peregrine's matter-of-fact tone made his words even more chilling.
"Speaking of Merius, I have a message for you."
"What?" Peregrine turned from the wall, his narrow gaze running over me as if he thought I had a hidden dagger with his name on it. I did have a stiletto concealed in a sheath between my breasts. I realized suddenly that I perhaps shouldn't be near the parapet wall, in case he became enraged at Safire's note and decided to take it out on me as the only Landers close at hand. The river was so far below, and one push from someone as strong as him was all it would take.
Making a show of pulling the folded parchment from my skirt pocket, I discreetly stepped away from the wall so that I faced him. He snatched the note from me and ripped open the seal. His eyes quickly scanned over the few tearstained words, his expression intently blank. Then he crumpled the letter against his palm. "I'll kill him. I'll grind his bones to dust right in front of her so she can see which of us is a real man. She'll come to me willingly in the end," he said flatly. "She's mine. She'll always be mine."
"Peregrine," I started, then gasped as his fingers fisted around my arm, his grasp so tight I could feel the welts rising on my skin.
"You're her friend--she confides in you?" he demanded. When I nodded, swallowing, he continued, "You tell her then this changes nothing, that I'm coming for her. It may take a year, two years, but that doesn't change the fact she's mine, and he's dead."
"Coming for her? What do
you mean by that?" I asked.
"You'll see." He dropped my arm, and I massaged it, staring at him, his white-lipped fury. "You'll all see." Then he pushed past me and headed for the door. He didn't notice Randel in the shadow of the vestibule, thank God. With the rage he was in, he would likely have tried to kill him. As soon as the door banged shut behind him, Randel hurried over to me.
"Are you all right, Lady Eden?"
"I hardly know. I've never seen anyone in such a state. He resembled a hell hound." I caught my breath. "We should follow him, see where he goes next."
However, by the time we made it through the door and down the steps from the parapet, Peregrine was nowhere in sight. He departed from court that afternoon, apparently only minutes after he left me on the parapet--we found out later that he killed the two spies the prince had ordered to follow him on a deserted stretch of road between Corcin and Calcors. The king dispatched several guards to the Bara house in Calcors to arrest him. They searched the house, but Peregrine had vanished. When they questioned his mother, she said that Peregrine had returned home near midnight on holy day. She had risen at the sound of his arrival to find him in his study, packing his ivory collection. She had no idea he had so much smuggled SerVerinese ivory in his possession. As soon as he finished stuffing it in boxes, he told her good-bye and that she should sell the house and move in with one of his married sisters. Then he left. The kings' guards searched all of Calcors, particularly the Bara warehouses. They would have searched his ships but none were in port. The harbormaster said the last Bara ship to sail was early Monday morning, and that he thought Peregrine was aboard. No one logged a destination port for the ship, though there were reports of it sailing south down the coast Monday morning. The prince sent three of the king's fastest ships in pursuit but none were ever able to discover the direction Peregrine had sailed. No Bara ships returned to Calcors ever again.
A few months later we began to hear rumors of a fearsome pirate operating in the southern seas. A strong, young, handsome man who spoke well and dressed even better, a man who enjoyed torturing his victims before he slit their throats himself. Then he ordered his men to hoist the blood-soaked garments on the highest mast, the new insignia flag for the House of Bara.
Chapter Sixteen - Merius
Corcin, Eastern Cormalen
November, 3 years ago
Outside, all was gray, a silvery rain that threatened to turn to ice lashing the windows. Safire stood with her fingers resting lightly on the sill, staring out. *Looks like your aura when you're seriously pondering something came her thought. Her own aura glowed a soft, deep velvety purple, gold threads sparkling in swirled patterns throughout.
*Your aura looks like one of Prince Segar's gaudy capes.
*Silly man. She turned from the window with a grin, bumping her huge belly on the edge of the sill. She swayed a little and braced her back with her hand, unsteady in her top-heavy state. I started to go to her, but before I could even rise, both Eden and Lady Rankin hurried over and guided her to a chair. She sank down with a sigh, then smiled at me.
*You hardly need me with such eager handmaids about.
She blew me a kiss. *What? I can't do without you. Her smile widened as she remembered the soft tingle of me running my hand over her hair every night to lull her to sleep, how the near warmth of my aura made her feel safe in this last month of pregnancy when even walking down the steps presented unforeseen obstacles.
*I wish we could go walking. She glanced at the rain coming down even harder than before outside. *My legs are restless.
*Mine too, freckle dove. Safire and I had started going for strolls together after I finished my duties at court for the day. The weather had grown comfortably cool, and she relished the exercise since being so obviously pregnant barred her from dances.
"His Highness should have listened to me," Father said then, lowering his tumbler to the table with a clank that drew my attention back to the discussion at hand. "I told him to arrest Peregrine the night Cyranea brought us that letter."
"Why didn't he?" Rankin asked, his long gnarled fingers joined in a perfect isosceles triangle under his bearded chin, his meditative look.
"He had good reason--at least it seemed good reason at the time. He wanted to arrest Peregrine at council so it would be public and none of Peregrine's cronies could accuse the royal family of injustice without looking like fools to the rest of the council. Of course, if we had known at the time what Peregrine planned . . ." Father trailed off and poured himself another measure of whiskey.
I caught Eden watching me then. She glanced at Father, then her eyes darted back to me. *She wants you to rescue him from himself came Safire's clear voice in my mind. *I should have painted her eyes that color, like sunlight through hardened tree sap . . .
I blocked Safire and her ruminations about painting. "Father, as I've said many times before, there's no way anyone could have known what that blackguard planned. We would have to be blackguards ourselves to have even guessed," I said as I rose and took the tumbler and whiskey bottle from him. Before he could protest, I drained the tumbler with a grimace and stowed the bottle in the cupboard with Safire's painting things. Whiskey and turpentine fumes seared the nose much the same way, I decided, a disquieting observation.
"Damn it, Merius," Father snarled.
"I'm sorry--I thought you poured that for me." I met his glare, the chamber suddenly silent around us. The stare-down grew dull after a moment, as stare-downs with Father often did since he never seemed to blink, so I turned to Rankin. "Has he told you about Sullay yet and how he pardoned the peasants to save them from Lemara's wrath? The council upheld his novel interpretation of common law, which I think has interesting implications for expanding our rights."
Rankin cocked his head as if listening especially hard to some faraway sound. "The council upheld that? I'm impressed they showed even a glimmer of justice toward peasants. It gives me hope."
"It wasn't justice, it was practical." Father finally looked at Rankin instead of me. "You see . . ." And with that he and Rankin continued happily into one of their debates about pragmatism versus idealism. His irritation at my rudeness had effectively distracted him from any further glum ruminations about Peregrine--at least for the moment. Eden and Safire both graced me with grateful looks, which I acknowledged with a nod. Lady Rankin, humming to herself as she flipped through Safire's latest sketches and paintings, had no idea what I had just spared her from. Hell, Rankin himself had no idea. They had just returned from Sarneth the other day--lucky for them they had been away for the worst of it.
None of us enjoyed losing, but Father had taken it particularly hard, especially after Eden told him what Peregrine had threatened on the parapet. Even though he would never admit it aloud, he blamed himself for underestimating Peregrine's depravity and cunning. As soon as the stunned council finished with the formalities of charging Peregrine despite his absence and dispatching ships to find and arrest him, Father had returned to Landers Hall. He had locked himself in his study for a week and gone into one of his whiskey-induced melancholies, vilely abusing all and sundry with his cursing if they dared open the door.
When we received Selwyn's message about Father's state, Eden, Safire, and I left court and went to Landers Hall. There we found him passed out on the settle with no blankets or cushion, a half-gnawed piece of dry toast and a flagon of water the only evidence he had eaten and drunk something besides spirits.
"If it wasn't for the stench of whiskey, one would think he was one of those ascetic monks, depriving himself of even a pillow or some butter," Eden had remarked, shaking her head. He had woken at the sound of her voice and demanded we leave the chamber immediately. When we didn't, he started cursing. Eden and I ignored him and opened the drapes. He flung his arm out as if to ward off the sunlight, and Safire grabbed his wrist, her aura enveloping him in a soft cloud. He settled down after muttering something about "damned witches" and let her take away the pain of his headache.
>
Then she said the one thing that brought him out of the worst of it. "You know, sir, if anyone could have guessed what Peregrine planned, it should have been me. I am the only one, after all, who could read his thoughts when he touched me, and I knew him better than most. I sensed his true nature the first moment I saw him, yet I still couldn't have predicted what he did, for all my witchery. No one's future is set in stone to be read with any certainty by the prophets and seers. All of us have free will, even scoundrels." When Father had started to protest, she had interrupted him and just kept repeating what she said over and over until he stopped protesting. Even today, months later, I could repeat her every word--I said her speech to myself at night after she fell asleep, my comfort when I doubted my sorry part in the whole mess.
Father had settled down for the most part and remained himself through the autumn. There had been times when he brought up Peregrine and went over what could have been done differently, especially after he got in his cups, but those times had grown fewer and fewer. Until this week. Something about this week had set him off again.
*It's his birthday tomorrow. Safire, who had gone over to stand beside Lady Rankin, raised her face from the painting they examined and met my gaze.
*But he's only turning fifty-two. He's still more able-bodied than any of the men we train, and they're half his age.
She shrugged, her thoughts suddenly obscured with a thick fog as she looked over toward the entrance. I followed the direction of her glance and saw Eden leaning against the edge of the half open door. It swung back and forth on its hinges with her every movement. Her dark brows knitted together as she stepped forward and joined in the debate with Father and Rankin. Then I looked back at Safire, wondering why she'd blocked her thoughts. What was the witch hiding now?
*Safire, what is it?
An odd expression came over her face, a furrowed, frowning puzzlement that suddenly slackened into surprised realization. She fumbled for the edge of the table, then lumbered around it, by some miracle managing to fall rump first in the chair as her knees gave out. I shoved past my makeshift desk, papers flying everywhere, and raced over to her.
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 38