“He said something about it.”
“It’s a thirty-foot-high moving platform covered in blue silk to represent the ocean. It has a bower on top for you and Leila. You’re going to be dressed as Kaelarn. I think Leila is supposed to represent the goddess, Kalianah.”
Damin continued to smile and wave, his outward demeanour at complete odds with the anger he could feel building inside him at his uncle’s presumptuousness. “And he seriously thinks I’m going to agree to this?”
“You know Mahkas, Damin. He’s had his heart set on you marrying Leila for so long, he’s convinced himself it’s real.”
“And what does Leila think of it, do you suppose?”
“She doesn’t want any part of it. Or you,” Starros added, grinning suddenly. “She still hasn’t forgiven you for calling her a sissy, you know.”
“Well, she was being a sissy.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should have called her one.”
Damin shook his head, thinking some things in Krakandar hadn’t changed at all. “You still defend her over every little thing, don’t you?”
“Someone has to.”
Damin looked at his foster-brother curiously, wondering at his tone. “Do you want to tell me what’s really going on, Starros?”
He nodded and pointed at the gateway of the inner ring and the palace only a few hundred feet ahead of them through the forest of people. “I will, Damin. But not here and not now. It’s neither the time nor the place.”
Starros is right about that much, Damin thought, as they pushed their way forward, although the way he spoke sounded a little more ominous than Damin thought the occasion warranted. Mahkas can be a bit pigheaded, but surely there’s nothing happening here in Krakandar that warrants such a dire tone?
Well, he would find out soon enough, he figured, although it took another half an hour to make it to the gate. Then suddenly they were through and the crowd fell back as they rode into the vast inner courtyard of Krakandar Palace, where the rest of the family were waiting to greet him.
Chapter 44
Mahkas Damaran had listened to the horns announcing the arrival of his nephew with the sense of anticipation common to all men who believe their fondest dreams are about to come true. He hurried to gather the welcoming delegation and move them out onto the top of the broad palace steps to await Damin’s arrival, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm, as he always did in times of heightened stress. He was determined to make absolutely certain Damin knew how glad they were to have him back home.
This was the first time since the young prince had left for his fosterage with Rogan Bearbow in Izcomdar, when he was thirteen, that Damin had returned home without Princess Marla and certainly the only time he’d come home for an extended visit. His other visits had been too short or too busy to give the young people any sort of chance to get close to each other.
Damin’s most worrying visit, Mahkas remembered, idly rubbing at his arm, had been eight years ago, the year Damin turned sixteen. Marla had purchased a court’esa for her son in Greenharbour and brought the young woman to Krakandar for the Summer Retreat. Reyna, her name was, Mahkas recalled. She was, not surprisingly, a stunning young woman. Marla had paid a record price for her. It was the talk of Greenharbour for months. (A few people even accused her of artificially inflating the price of slaves, simply so her husband could realise a profit on a shipment of slaves he had brought in from Fardohnya around about the same time.) Damin, understandably enough, had been completely besotted by his new court’esa and had eyes for nothing and nobody else the whole time he was home.
By the time he returned to Rogan in Izcomdar, he had barely spoken two words to Leila all summer long.
Furious his nephew was so easily distracted, Mahkas had promised to send Reyna to Natalandar along with Damin’s luggage, which was due to follow him a few days after he left Krakandar. But rather than tell Reyna to get packed, the day after Damin left with Marla and Ruxton, Mahkas arranged to have her bunk searched, where his men found several pieces of Bylinda’s jewellery hidden under her pillow.
Ignoring Reyna’s loud protestations of innocence, Mahkas had the girl whipped until she was scarred for life, and then sold off as a fruit-picking slave to a vineyard just over the border in Elasapine. He sent a letter to Marla, explaining that the girl had been a thief and had been punished accordingly and that had been the end of it.
Damin, interestingly enough, had never asked to own another court’esa until he moved to Greenharbour, contenting himself with those slaves belonging to Rogan’s household.
This unexpected visit was fate, Mahkas knew. There would be time now for things to develop as they should. Time for Damin and Leila to fall in love. The plague in Greenharbour and all the terrible deaths that came with it were the gods’ way of putting Damin where he needed to be, to allow all of Mahkas’s dreams to be fulfilled.
Everyone had their assigned places in the welcoming party, organised strictly by rank. His wife and daughter stood with Mahkas at the head of the steps. Bylinda was looking a little pale, but Leila stood by his side, tall and beautiful in the bright spring sunlight, dressed in a gorgeous lavender gown he’d bought her especially from Fardohnya, looking every inch the fit consort for a High Prince, which Mahkas was quite sure Damin would acknowledge the moment he laid eyes on his cousin again.
Mahkas tried to understand Marla’s reluctance to formally announce the betrothal. It was a commonly held belief that a man shouldn’t marry before he was twenty-five or thirty, although she’d been quick enough to allow Xanda to marry Luciena at seventeen, when there was a shipping fortune at stake, he recalled a little sourly. In principle, Mahkas agreed with the notion of a man sowing a few wild oats before he settled down. The trouble was, Leila wasn’t getting any younger. Damin was only twenty-four and if he waited until he was thirty to take a bride, Leila would be almost twenty-nine by then and well into the danger years for childbearing.
If that happened, Mahkas’s biggest fear was that Marla might decide to look for a younger bride for her precious Wolfblade line—a girl still in her late teens or early twenties, who might more safely bear a number of healthy children. It was a valid fear, Mahkas knew. Bylinda had only ever been able to carry one healthy child to term (and a daughter at that). With her mother’s poor history, Marla might look at Leila and be justifiably concerned that the daughter would suffer the same problems as the mother. The very thought of it made the regent fidget nervously and rub at his forearm. Out of habit, Bylinda slapped his hand away almost unconsciously, as she always did when she saw him worrying at it, so to distract himself he turned to make sure everybody was in their place.
Behind the Regent of Krakandar and his family were arrayed a score of other palace functionaries and behind them the servants and slaves Mahkas had deemed worthy of the honour of greeting his nephew. Old Lirena was there, leaning heavily on her cane, the slave who had nursed Damin and his siblings when they were babies, along with a number of other palace staff who had known Damin since he was born. It was important, Mahkas knew, for Damin to have that sense of homecoming only this place could provide. He knew the value of a man having a place he could truly call his home. As he surveyed the crowd of well-wishers, Mahkas frowned. Starros was missing, he noticed. Orleon stood alone, with no sign of his young assistant.
“Is Starros unwell?” Mahkas enquired of his wife, puzzled by the young man’s absence. Despite his baseborn status, Starros had counted himself one of Damin’s closest friends in childhood. He couldn’t imagine any circumstance short of unconsciousness that would have kept him away from this event.
“I don’t think so,” Bylinda replied, just as puzzled by his absence.
“He had some business in the city,” Leila told them. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Starros wouldn’t miss this day for anything.”
Mahkas nodded. “I know. Which reminds me, Leila, of something I’ve been meaning to mention for a few days now, but with all the fuss o
f Damin’s arrival, it kept slipping my mind.”
“What’s that, Papa?”
“Now that Damin is home, it might pay to be a little more . . . circumspect in your dealings with Starros.”
Leila stared at him in shock. “What?”
“Now, now, don’t get upset. I know Starros is a friend. But you’re not children in the nursery any longer, Leila. You need to start keeping company with friends of your own class. Starros is a bastard fosterling promoted to assistant chief steward. I don’t want your fiancé to think there is anything untoward in your dealings with the servants.”
“Damin is not my fiancé, Papa,” Leila insisted in a low, irritated voice, aware that their conversation might easily be overheard. “And Starros isn’t just a servant.”
Mahkas was starting to get truly annoyed by his daughter’s constant refusal to acknowledge the truth of her situation. “Just because it hasn’t been formally announced doesn’t mean your betrothal to Damin is not going to happen, Leila. And the sooner you start to acknowledge the truth about Starros’s station in life, the better.” Before Leila could argue the point with him, he took her hand and squeezed it with an encouraging smile. “Now, don’t be mad at me. Smile for your papa, eh? Anybody would think you’re not happy to welcome Damin home.”
Leila refused to answer, but she did manage a thin smile, which relieved Mahkas a great deal.
She was just being waspish, he told himself. Maybe it was her moon-time. Women were notoriously fickle and moody at times like that. There was no more time to worry about it, however. Another horn sounded and finally the guard of honour pushed their way through the crowd outside the wall and rode under the large arched gateway into the courtyard.
Two outriders carrying the banners bearing the wolf’s-head escutcheon of the Wolfblade House and the rampant kraken of Krakandar led the parade into the inner courtyard, followed by another two men on horseback. Behind them rode the captain of the guard, Almodavar, and with him a young man and woman whom Mahkas guessed were Kalan and her companion, Rorin. Not seeing Damin immediately, he looked again at the two riders at the head of the column and frowned. The one on the left, Mahkas suddenly realised with concern, was his nephew, Damin Wolfblade, dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, far too casual for such an important entrance into the city. What is he thinking?
And then Mahkas’s blood ran cold as he realised the man riding next to Damin, in the position of honour at the prince’s right hand—in the most appalling breach of protocol Mahkas could ever recall—
was his assistant chief steward, the bastard fosterling, Starros.
Mahkas and Bylinda stepped forward to greet him, as Damin dismounted at the foot of the steps. The prince took them two at a time, halting just below the landing where they waited, and bowed respectfully to his uncle.
“Welcome home, Damin!” Mahkas announced loudly, stepping forward to embrace his nephew and forcing a smile he certainly didn’t feel. “You’ve been sorely missed here in your true home.”
Damin seemed genuinely delighted to be back. “I’ve sorely missed it, too, Uncle. Hello, Aunt Bylinda.”
Bylinda curtseyed politely and offered Damin her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Damin.”
Damin kissed her palm and smiled warmly. “It’s always a pleasure to see my favourite aunt, my lady. You’re truly the only reason I wanted to come home.”
Bylinda blushed at Damin’s flattery, not immune to his charm even though she’d helped raise the boy. Mahkas turned to discover Leila, against his explicit instructions, had not rushed forward to greet her cousin. She hung back as if is she wanted no part of the celebrations. “Leila, don’t be shy.
Come! Welcome Damin home!”
With some reluctance, Leila stepped forward, but she didn’t try to embrace Damin. She coolly offered him her hand. Mahkas could have slapped her for being so intransigent, but Damin didn’t seem to mind. He accepted her hand and kissed her palm with the same grace he had her mother’s hand and smiled at her.
“You look thrilled to see me, cousin.”
There was a touch of irony in Damin’s tone that Mahkas thought rather concerning.
“You have no idea, Damin,” she replied unsmilingly.
“We’ll talk soon,” he promised, and then kissed her palm again. “In private.”
Leila smiled at her cousin then, and slipped her arm through his as Damin stepped up to the landing. Vastly relieved by this obvious sign of affection by his daughter, Mahkas turned to greet his niece and her companion from the Sorcerers’ Collective.
Kalan was polite enough when she greeted him and introduced him to Rorin, as the rest of the welcoming delegation formed two lines leading to the palace doors. Mahkas had always thought Kalan a bad influence on Leila and had been rather relieved when Marla had taken her from the palace to be apprenticed to the Collective, along with Rorin Mariner, this cousin of Luciena’s who seemed to have appeared from nowhere and been adopted into the family with no explanation at all. On the landing, Damin, with Leila still holding his arm, was working his way down the lines, greeting each person by name.
And then he stopped abruptly and turned to Mahkas. “Oh, while I think of it—Starros tells me you had something planned for the parade this afternoon, Uncle.”
“That’s right,” Mahkas said, wondering what had been said. If Starros had spoiled his surprise in any way, Mahkas silently promised himself he would kill the too-smart-for-his-own-good little bastard with his bare hands.
“And he tells me I’m supposed to be the main attraction.”
“We must honour Kaelarn, Damin, and I thought—”
Damin laughed. “We’re miles from the ocean, Uncle. I’m quite sure Kaelarn’s wrath won’t reach us here if I don’t take part in your little parade. It’s been a long ride from the crossroads this morning and I’ve already greeted half the city in person. You won’t mind if I settle for watching the parade from the wall-walk over the gate, will you?”
Damin turned back to greeting the servants without waiting for Mahkas to answer. The look Leila gave her father was quietly triumphant.
Furious, Mahkas grabbed Starros by the arm as he made to follow them and pulled him aside.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.
Starros looked at him with a puzzled expression. “I wasn’t aware that I was doing anything.”
“You ride in here at the right hand of Krakandar’s prince, acting as if you deserve some special consideration. You ruin my parade. Who do you think you are?”
“Damin asked me to ride with him, my lord. We’re friends.”
“Then perhaps my nephew needs to rethink who his friends are,” Mahkas told him in a low, angry voice, conscious that people were wondering what he was saying to the young man. “Now get back to Orleon, boy. And I don’t want to see you again unless you’re serving your betters, not trying to pretend you’re one of them.”
Mahkas let Starros go with a shove and hurried to catch up with his nephew and his daughter, thinking that as soon as he had Damin and Leila safely married, it might be time to start thinking of a way to remove Starros from the palace completely.
Chapter 45
From the moment they arrived in Talabar, Luciena knew something was amiss.
It was more than the unexpected and unasked-for escort of Fardohnyan troops waiting for them on the wharves when they docked. It was more than the uneasy cooperation of the stevedores who helped tie up the ship, or the sly glances of the merchants who stared suspiciously at their Hythrun vessel from the decks of their own magnificent Fardohnyan ships. It was a gut feeling Luciena had come to trust; a feeling she couldn’t explain, but knew—beyond doubt—that she should listen to.
Xanda, normally the most optimistic of men, was down on the wharf talking to the soldiers.
Even from here, Luciena could see the worried expression her husband wore as he listened to the captain of the Fardohnyan guard. Watching from the deck of the trader sh
e had commandeered for the voyage to Talabar, Luciena didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what bothered her husband.
There was more than just Xanda or Luciena in danger here.
Believing they would be safer on the open sea than trapped in a plague-ridden city, Luciena had made the difficult decision to bring their three children with them on this journey, the eldest of whom, Emilie, was only ten years old. Their two sons, Jarvan and Geris, were eight and six. The children were still belowdecks, anxiously awaiting permission to go ashore. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip as she watched Xanda talking to the Fardohnyan captain, Luciena fought down the urge to order Captain Grayden to untie the ship and push off while they still had a chance of getting her children away from this place.
She was on the verge of issuing the order when Xanda turned and headed back up the gangway of the ship, nimbly jumping to the deck when he reached the top of the treacherous plank. For a man born and bred in landlocked Krakandar, he had taken to the sea like a fish suddenly reintroduced to water after a lengthy absence. Luciena had never seen him sea-sick, unsteady on his feet or even nervous during a storm. It grieved her a little sometimes to think that he was such a natural seaman, while the daughter of the legendary Jarvan Mariner had proved to be a fair-weather sailor, at best.
“What did he say?” she demanded of her husband as Captain Grayden met them at the head of the gangway.
“He welcomed us to Talabar,” Xanda informed her. “Very polite about it, he was.”
“And?” the captain prompted.
“And it seems that every accommodation house in the city is suddenly and unaccountably full.”
Luciena glanced down at the waiting troop before looking at Xanda with a puzzled expression.
“So . . . what? Are they saying we have to stay on board the ship?”
“No,” Xanda replied. “Apparently, in an act of extreme generosity, the king has made rooms available for us in the Summer Palace.”
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