Sea of Sighs (Empath Book 2)

by Dawn Peers

  “That’s not what I think of your father, or your brothers.”

  “It may not be what you think your highness, but it’s what the rest of the court thinks. You need to make sure you keep playing the strongest hand you have available, and right now, I’m the strongest hand you can play. You need to bring Quinn back here for Sammah, and you know a trial can’t go ahead without her. You can’t be seen to let a man like Sammah having his way, so the best thing to do, is decide that you’re recalling Quinn for the trial. Make it your decision, Vance, not his. Everybody knew that Quinn and I had a relationship, so just makes sense that I am the one to send after her.”

  “I understand you, Eden, but there is something unsettling me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Two things actually, one is your level of familiarity. There are many men in this court who wouldn’t dare speak to me without using the proper intonations. You called me Vance.” Eden at flinched the realisation, but didn’t interrupt the king. “The other problem I have, is that since even before Sammah was indicted for treason, you’ve been making most of my decisions for me. I didn’t realise until now, but it was you and Ross who convinced me to let him go after Quinn in the first place. As a pair, you asked me to make you chamberlain. Now you’re persuading me that you are the best man in my court to retrieve Quinn. Why? Do you want to get away from your obligations here, so you can stay in Sha’sek with your lover?”

  Eden hadn’t thought of that himself, so his natural reaction at such a ridiculous accusation, was to laugh. It was a genuine noise of shock. “Your highness, I can’t think of living anywhere but Everfell. I’ve heard stories about what goes on in the islands, and whether they’re true or not, they are not my people.”

  “Quinn isn’t one of our people either, but you seemed happy enough with her?”

  “When I fell in love with Quinn I didn’t know what she was.” It wasn’t a lie, though Eden felt ashamed that it was partially true. “My feelings aside, your highness, my loyalties have always been here. I know that you can only get out of this situation with your rule intact, if you bring Quinn back to court. The only sound way for that to happen, for your reputation, is for me to get her. This way you save face in front of all of the lords, and you’re not putting men who are perceived as being more valuable in a position of risk.”

  “I agree with you, Eden, though I don’t have to like it. I’m also inclined not to send you on your own. I don’t know who I could send with you that would make a difference.”

  “You don’t have to send anyone with me, sire. Just give me enough horses to ride non-stop, and the coin for a passage over the Sighs.”

  “Why do you want to take that accursed crossing?”

  “Ross told me that, if he found them, he would take them to Farn. The quickest way to get to Farn is over the Sighs. It’s a dangerous journey, but it’s short, and for Everfell’s benefit, I’ll have to take it.”

  “Do you already know a ship willing to make that passage for you?”

  Eden shrugged. “It’s a risky route, but its reputation draws a certain crowd. With enough coin, I’ll be able to convince someone to take me.”

  “I had my doubts before, but letting you make that crossing? I refuse. Take a longer route.”

  “And risk open rebellion when you still haven’t pulled Sammah up into trial? I don’t think so, your highness. If you don’t hear a message from me in a week, then you can assume that I’ve been in a wreck. You have that week to think of an alternative plan.”

  “You know what, Eden? It’s your complete lack of fear that worries me the most. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Yes, your highness. I’m positive. And I’m sure it’s the only way.”

  Vance chewed on his lip, hesitating for only a second. “Make the arrangements. Requisition anything you need the journey. Are you sure you can go without a retinue?”

  “Your highness, the only lands I have to go through are my own and Port Kahnel. If I need a retinue through those lands, then something is very rotten at the core of Everfell, and nothing either of us can do would ever fix that.”

  “Humph. I’m still not sure that I want you going on your own.”

  “You can’t trust me, can you sire?”

  “I won’t be able to trust anyone anymore, Eden. Don’t take it personally.”

  Eden didn’t. He couldn’t begin to understand how Vance felt, cornered in on all sides by enemies, both real and imaginary. Eden didn’t want to bring Quinn back for Vance; he wanted to bring Quinn back for himself. That didn’t make him feel any less pity for his king. “I don’t, your highness, I assure you. Pick whomever you want to accompany me; even guardsmen, if that will make you feel better. I don’t think you should risk anyone of any real standing, though.”

  “You don’t consider yourself a man of standing in the court?”

  “I barely consider myself a man, sire.”

  Vance chuckled. “Then you need to start putting yourself around court a bit more, rather than following me around like a hen. You’re more respected than your father, and I’ve heard more than one lord mention it’s regrettable you weren’t first in the line of succession.”

  “Then they flatter me unduly. I’ve not spent my life under the same pressure as Rowan, being the heir to a seat like Sevenspells.”

  “Being captain of the guard at such a young age must have come with its own sense of responsibilities?”

  “Sevenspells is a peaceful land, in the main. We’re all too busy wondering about who we’re going to be fighting outside our borders to have time for scraps within it.”

  “That’s precisely what I’ve been worried about.”

  Eden had realised his mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth, but had been hoping Vance wouldn’t notice. Hopefully, the king would just think it a slip of the tongue; Eden hadn’t given him any real reason to distrust in his newest and youngest chamberlain; not yet, anyway.

  “Who do you think is going to do your duty, whilst you’re gone?”

  Eden had no idea; he didn’t know the court well enough, despite his attempts to listen carefully to everyone that chose to bend his ear—not many, yet—and paying close attention to the manoeuvring of the lords around their king around critical occasions such as court and dinners. There was a definite divide appearing, and his brother and Lord Calvin of Port Kahnel appeared firmly on one side of it. Eden preferred where he was, despite Vance’s unlikeable demeanour. At least, with Vance, he knew where he stood.

  “It’s not a necessary position, is it?”

  Vance tried to hide his smile, but Eden caught it tugging at the corners of the king’s lips, underneath the greying whiskers of his moustache. “Explain what you mean?”

  Eden tugged at his left ear, nervous. “Well, I don’t actually do anything. Nothing of any importance, anyway. I do a lot of listening, and pointing people in the direction of various rooms, but by in large, Ross was right. This place runs itself. The maids all know what they’re doing; Renner rules the kitchens without my interference—and I’d really rather not interfere. Without any special occasion, like the Spring Ball, there’s nothing for me to do but sit and listen.”

  “That’s an important role too, you know. Critical, in fact, when it comes to your king asking you advice. Ross won’t be around forever, Eden, and I need loyal men aware of what it means to be a part of this court. You’re never going to inherit Sevenspells, even if I don’t let Shiver rule again. You’re still a third son, and I’m already setting up matches for Rowan, with the help of your mother. River, too. They’ll both beget heirs before you even get a sniff of that title, so think carefully about where you want to be in the future.

  “I will allocate five of my own guardsmen to you. They will escort you to the port, and will wait in Kahnel for you to come back with the empath…and Maertn.”

  Eden bowed, hiding his scowl at having to bring back Quinn’s best friend. “Yes, sire.”


  * * *

  Eden rode out of Everfell the next day with two spare horses, an armed escort, and enough supplies for them all to get to Port Kahnel without stopping for anything but sleep. The king had even given Eden enough gold to seek passage across the Sea of Sighs four times over, though he was anticipating the return fare for Maertn and Quinn would be included in that purse. As Eden began his journey south, and Sammah waited for the circles to close around him, Quinn was beginning new lessons of her own.

  24

  Quinn slid to the ground, exhausted. The blade slithered from her sweaty palm, making a dull thud on the sand as it landed flat. She sobbed between heaving pants, unused to so much physical exertion and mental effort. Unbidden, the bawl of her tutor, a master in swordcraft called Tarik, jabbed in her ears.

  “Get up, girl. You cannot rest now. Do you think that you can rest on a battlefield? Do you believe the men of Everfell are going to stop swinging their swords so that you may catch your breath?”

  “There isn’t going to be a war!” Quinn yelled at him. They’d had this argument already.

  Tarik chortled, “If you think that, then you’ve been going around with your eyes and ears closed. I thought you were an empath? You’ve been living with the baron Sammah for all your life have you not? And you think that we will never have another war?”

  Quinn rolled her tongue around her dry mouth, looking for any bit of moisture to dampen her parched throat. There was none, and she knew that Tarik wouldn’t let her properly rest until the end of the session. The man was practically a slave-driver, and since Quinn has been passed into his care three days ago, all she’d known were tears and pain.

  “Answer me, girl. Are all men in Everfell peaceful? None of the lords at all show malice? Not even that cruel fellow…what is name? Shimmer?”

  Quinn was so exhausted, she couldn’t even giggle at his slip with the lord of Sevenspells’ name. “Shiver. His name is Shiver, and he’s the Lord of Sevenspells.” Quinn thought about the disgusting old tyrant briefly. Yes, he’d wanted war, but none of the others had, not as far as she’d known.

  “How influential is he, this Shiver? Are the other lords weaker than he, likely to follow his lead, yes?”

  “Vance is still on the throne.”

  Tarik rapped her on the head with his wooden sparring sword, and Quinn yelped in pain. Her hand darted to the back of her skull, and she patted at her hair gingerly. She drew her hand back, inspecting it and expecting to see blood. There was none, and she was disappointed.

  “If you think that he will be on the throne forever then your are even more foolish than I first thought, girl. Now, get up. Stop thinking about your next drink. And your next meal. There are no dinner breaks on the battlefield, girl. Have you learned nothing from me, yet?”

  “You’ve taught me how to be exhausted.”

  Tarik grinned, “I like a little courage, little lioness.” He looked up and down, “And you’re losing some of baby fat that you had.”

  Quinn was indignant. “Baby fat? You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  “The stories about Everfell, and their court? I heard they do nothing all day but throw meat and wine down their throats. Isn’t that true? And you lived there?”

  Quinn laughed impulsively. “If was one of those courtiers, I wouldn’t even be here. I was Baron Sammah’s adopted daughter. I spent most of my years in Everfell as a maid. At nights, I cleaned bedrooms and emptied chamber pots. You’ve probably heard of the court ladies in their sweeping ostentatious gowns, on the arms of lords embroidered in finery? At the banquets you mentioned, I was serving them. You want someone who was overburdened with weight and self-importance, then you need to send a message to Sammah.”

  “Just Sammah? Not even baron or father? Where’s your sense of loyalty, girl?”

  She hated it when Tarik called her girl, which was the only name the swordmaster appeared to have for her. Quinn’s response was venomous. “My sense of loyalty to Sammah was lost when I found out he wanted to mate with me.”

  “Ah yes, but that’s understandable, isn’t it? The baron is an apath, he has no understanding of the way people react to such things. How can you hold that against him?”

  “Hold it against him? If I ever see him again, I’ll slit his throat!”

  “Ah, violence. Of this, I approve, though your skill with a blade and your lack of upper body strength mean you’re very unlikely to be slitting throats any time soon, girl. Pick up a blade. Enough talking, you’ve had your sneaky rest. We’re going to work on your footwork, which is appalling. I could have my toddlers run circles around you and trip you in the sand before plunging this sword into your throat.”

  Quinn was horrified, but she did believe Tarik. He was Farn’s weapons master, and had been for three decades. The man was old, but no one would mistake that for Tarik being slow. He was trim, lean, and his skin was leathery from the years he’d spent out in the sun training his students. He hated war, and Quinn could understand why after so many of his students had died on the battlefield in the last war. That he’d still be training children after such heart-breaking loss, was astonishing to Quinn, until he’d told her that skill with weapons was his gift. He would be replaced by another gifted when he died, but whether he chose to or not, Tarik would teach. His reasoning was sound; if someone less skilled with the blade were to teach, then more could die. Quinn picked up a blade.

  All they seemed to talk about in Sha’sek was war, when everyone in Everfell avoided the topic. Quinn wasn't sure which side to believe now, but the more she heard in Sha’sek, the more she thought the war was an inevitability.

  Quinn found it hard to concentrate as Tarik resumed their practice. His bawling was never-ending, telling her to shift her feet to the left, then to the right. Making her pivot, making sure her shoulders were in line with her leg; taking the correct stance so should have the right momentum to defend his swings. She lost balance time and time again, and he slipped in beneath her defences enough times to make Quinn cry tears of frustration. As her eyes watered, the stinging blinded her. She couldn’t counter anything; she threw the sword away in frustration.

  “I can’t do this, Tarik! I’ll never be a fighter.”

  Tarik didn’t stop his swing, and his wooden sword crashed into her shoulder. Quinn reeled from the blow, shrieking in pain as she felt the wooden blade crunching her bone. Even as she collapsed to the sand once more, she knew a bone was broken. What was he thinking?

  Quinn’s howl of pain was enough to bring people running. Tarik dropped to her side, only looking apologetic as healers began to work on her. She looked desperately at their faces for a glance of Maertn, but her best friend wasn’t there. Neither was Ross. After their brief meeting when she had seen the council, they had been separated. She had been put under Tarik’s care, and she was told that Ross was in another building entirely; she wouldn’t be allowed to see him for some time. Quinn knew that Maertn was under the tutelage of another master, but she had no idea where Ross was, and though no one had lied to her about his wellbeing, she still feared for his safety.

  “So, you train me for war, and then what? Nothing, that’s what. I’ll be able to swing a sword like all of your other minions, then be kept at the back and used to manipulate emotions of others, just like Nerren was. You’re wasting your time, Tarik.”

  “What if our lines are broken? What if there is no defence, and you are left on your own facing a dozen mercenaries from Everfell? Could you take them all at once with your abilities? Do you want to be known as the empath that got taken down screaming without a fight? I may not know you, Quinn, but I’ve met you. Open your eyes to the world, girl. I know you’re a fighter. You wouldn’t have survived Sammah if you weren’t.”

  Chastised, Quinn glanced up at a healer. “Nothing is broken. She will be sore for the next few days. Go easy on this side.”

  The healers departed, and Quinn was left in the training yard again with her master. Tarik was leaning against
a wall, regarding her coolly. The next decision was hers. Quinn leaned down for a sword. She didn’t realise how weary she was though, and she stumbled over into the dirt. She stayed, panting, on her hands and knees, hoping that Tarik would laugh at her. The swordsman was giving her one-to-one lessons, thankfully, and Quinn suspected he resented the fact that he was being made to concentrate on such a poor student. Quinn tried to change the topic, diverting attention from her so she could rest more. “You keep mentioning Sammah. What was he like? Did you know him?”

  Tarik pushed himself off the wall and sat cross-legged in front of Quinn, so Quinn adopted the same pose. “Don’t mistake this for leisure, girl, we’ll be adding this wasted time on to the end of your session. You understand me?” Quinn nodded, just glad to be able to get a break for a short time. “I would love to say that Baron Sammah was a nice man, the kind of person liked by everyone, and an able fighter. He was none of these things. I was glad when they sent him away from Farn.”

  “Why, was he so terrible?”

  “It wasn’t anything he directly did to me. He was just so rotten compared to everyone else around him, you know?”

  Quinn didn’t know, and shook her head.

  Tarik sighed. “Most students brought to me have some fundamental good in them. I only get nobles; highborn families, those able to pay my prices.” Tarik caught Quinn’s jaw dropping, and laughed. “Yes, that includes you. The Baron Pax himself has paid your tutelage. You think I’d tolerate your pathetic skills for free? No, girl, you cost twice as much as a normal student, though I will tell you that for free. Anyway, this distracts us. You wanted to know about your Sammah? Know this: Sammah is a vile man. I’m not surprised he was stirring up war in Everfell. I couldn’t begin to count just how many feathers he’s managed to ruffle in that court. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him die at the end of a noose. Don’t misunderstand me, girl, I don’t blame him in any way for being the way he is. Like I said, he’s an apath. He was born like that. Still, some people take liberties with their ability, and he is one of them. I’m relieved to say, you’re not one of them. You haven’t tried once to read me, have you?”