Royal Exile

by Fiona McIntosh

  Both women turned surprised expressions to Loethar.

  “You gave him the queen?” Valya asked, aghast.

  “I gave him a broken, ordinary woman, stripped of her former title, in return for his services. A small price to pay for a man who knows everything there is to know about the Valisars and this realm. He was as close to Brennus and Iselda as Stracker is to me.”

  “But Stracker should be. He is your brother, Loethar,” Negev admonished.

  “Half-brother, mother,” Loethar corrected, looking at Freath.

  The servant showed no outward sign of surprise at this news. Instead he moved briskly to the banal. “Can I organize some refreshments for your guests, sire?”

  Loethar sighed although he tried to cover it by turning away. “I take it you’ve come to stay, mother?”

  “Darling Loethar. You are amusing,” Negev replied with undisguised condescension. “I’m home, my son. This is my rightful place now.”

  “As I thought,” he said stiffly, looking at Freath again. “Give my mother the queen’s old suite of rooms.”

  Again not so much as a flicker in the man’s expression told him Freath was in any way alarmed by this order. “Very good, sire. Just give me an hour to have everything removed.”

  “No, leave it,” Negev said. “It will amuse me to rifle through her things.”

  Freath nodded at the woman. “As you wish, Dara Negev. Is there anything specific I can have sent up for you?”

  “I’ll need a servant, of course,” she said, a slight tone of irritation in her voice.

  “Of course. You shall have Genrie.”

  “The defiant girl?” Loethar asked.

  “The very one, sire.”

  “Well suited. You’ll like her, mother.” Loethar found himself glancing toward Freath and enjoying a shared conspiratorial look. The feisty maid and the overbearing Dara would make an explosive pair. “I’m sure you can find a comfortable chamber for Valya?”

  “Loethar, I’ll be happy to share yours,” Valya chimed in.

  He was both relieved and grateful when Freath without a blink of hesitation answered for him.

  “Er, my lady, do let me have a beautiful suite made up for you. You deserve your privacy and I will organize someone to wait on you.”

  Loethar leapt in to reinforce the point. “Thank you, Freath. I think Valya would enjoy being pampered a little, wouldn’t you?”

  Eyeing them both, Valya replied, “Yes, of course.”

  “Good,” Freath said, coming as close to a smile as the man obviously could. Loethar’s gaze narrowed. Freath was proving more than helpful. He was sharp; he already understood plenty, which was impressive, considering he’d hardly had more than a collected hour or more in Loethar’s company. He couldn’t forget that the man was a traitor but he’d already decided that Freath would live, no matter how much Stracker wanted him gutted. Refocusing on what Freath had been saying, he noted that the aide was casting quiet glances his way, as though he knew Loethar’s thoughts had been wandering. “…draw and heat some water for a bath for you,” he was offering Valya.

  “I, er…” She hesitated, looking at Negev, who simply shrugged her bony shoulders.

  “You should, Valya. Can you remember the last time you enjoyed a hot soak?” Loethar asked. She shook her head. “Then enjoy yourself. This is what they call the spoils of war. It doesn’t always mean riches. Sometimes it simply means the peace and leisure to enjoy life’s pleasures.”

  “At someone else’s expense,” Freath finished.

  Negev’s eyes turned hard but Loethar saw the jest behind the dry words and tone and laughed. “Exactly. Go, Valya, be pampered. Mother, I shall see you later, I’m sure. Why don’t you…” He paused, unsure of what to suggest.

  “Make myself at home?” she asked.

  He let out a sigh. “Yes.”

  “I intend to. And when will we meet Iselda? She’s all there is left, I gather, having heard of Brennus’s demise. Pity.”

  “Er, well, no, there is Piven, here.”

  “I was wondering when you might explain the boy’s presence among us.”

  “Is something wrong with him?” Valya inquired. She looked as though she could smell something bad. No maternal instincts simmering there, Loethar noted.

  “Freath knows more about him, if you care to listen to him.”

  Both women glanced Freath’s way and the aide took up the thread of conversation easily. “Of course, sire. Piven is the middle child of the Valisar royals. He is adopted and, as you can probably tell, not of sound mind.”

  “He’s a halfwit,” Loethar stated.

  Freath acquiesced with a tight expression that Loethar assumed was an attempt at a smile. “The only heir is Leonel and he has gone missing, although I’m sure your son will hunt him down soon enough, madam,” Freath assured, a small nod toward Loethar. “Piven’s half-sister was born a weakling just a day ago and she died, predictably, within hours of her birth.”

  “Her ashes were cast to the winds,” Loethar added.

  “Was Iselda present?” Negev asked, and there was an ugly eagerness to her tone.

  “She was. I insisted upon it,” Loethar replied.

  “Excellent,” Negev breathed. “I hope she suffered.”

  “She still is, madam,” Freath answered. “She has become catatonic.”

  Negev frowned.

  Loethar explained, knowing his mother would expect him to. “She has withdrawn entirely, I gather, and is now as unable to communicate with the outside world as her invalid son.”

  “Why is he still alive? A simple drowning in a bucket should do it.”

  “He is alive, mother, because I permit it.”

  “Why? Look at the imbecile! What use is he?”

  “I have my reasons. And it’s his very idiocy that makes him harmless as much as interesting.”

  Valya touched his arm. “He is attached to the Valisar, Loethar. That should be cause for his death.”

  “When I need your counsel on running a realm, Valya, I will ask for it. The child lives until I decide differently. Besides, watch this. Piven!”

  “How clever, he knows his name,” Dara Negev commented quietly to Valya. Loethar heard her acid remark nonetheless as Piven turned from Vyk and ran toward Loethar, beaming. Loethar lifted him easily with one arm and Piven threw his arms around the man’s neck.

  The two silent watchers grimaced at the sight.

  “I have never enjoyed such blind adoration,” Loethar quipped, setting down Piven.

  “Have you not?” he heard Valya mutter under her breath but he chose to ignore it.

  Leo, recently returned from the roof, rolled away from the peepholes. “I can’t take any more of this.”

  “Stay calm,” Gavriel soothed, despite his own anger. “We mustn’t lose our heads now.”

  “I’m not going to stand by and watch them hurt Piven.”

  “Leo, listen!” Gavriel said, grabbing for the king’s arm. “Loethar said he has no intention of doing so—”

  “Were we watching the same scene? He didn’t say anything of the kind. All the barbarian said was that Piven would live for as long as he permitted him to. He could order my brother’s death tomorrow if he tires of him. Any why wouldn’t he? Piven’s affection and smiles can interest a stranger for only so long before his vacant ways become irritating.”

  Gavriel turned away, angry. “It’s that wretched Freath. Look at the way he keeps burrowing his way deeper into the good books of the enemy. I can’t believe we had such a snake in our midst all these years. He’s making it so easy for them.”

  “He’s a traitor. And that Genrie is right there alongside him in treachery.”

  Gavriel growled his despair. “All right, all right, Leo. We go. But we don’t just leap off a roof in broad daylight. We need a plan. We also can’t take Piven. I have to say that, in case you’re hatching some audacious notion about rescuing your brother.”

  “No, I realize I can’
t get to him but so far it looks as though he has the barbarian’s indulgence.” He gave a rueful shrug. “Typical Piven. Everyone loves him, even our enemies.”

  Gavriel said no more about the invalid boy. “We need to assemble some things and we need some food to get us by. Yes, I know what you’re going to say,” he said, lifting his hand to prevent Leo’s leaping in. “Rabbits will sustain us but I don’t know when we’ll be in one place long enough to lay traps and catch them. If we’re on foot we need food we can eat on the run. At least enough for a couple of days.”

  Leo groaned. “Not back to the kitchen.”

  “We have to. Let me do this my way, I beg you. I know you’re anxious to be gone. I am too after watching those hideous women’s arrival and that sodding Freath sucking up to everyone.” He didn’t say that he had an awful sense of doom on behalf of Queen Iselda, but Leo’s thoughts were apparently following his own.

  “I want to see my mother before I go,” the king said.

  “You mean talk—” Gavriel began, his tone filled with disapproval.

  “No, I mean simply to see her once more.”

  “It will upset you.”

  “Yes, it will. But you must understand, my father raised me to be king and taught me not to tolerate fools, or cowards. I have no control over my mother’s situation—or Piven’s. Father wouldn’t want me bleating over my family’s fate. He would want me to spend my time exacting revenge over it. Has it occurred to you that he knew we would be watching when he killed himself?”

  Gavriel nodded. He felt as though Leo was maturing at triple the normal rate of someone his age. “I imagine he had to accept there was a good chance but went ahead anyway, no matter how much it might upset you.”

  “Upset me?” Leo gave a mirthless grunt. “He wanted me to see it, Gav! That’s why he did it! That’s why he made it so gory.” Gavriel frowned as Leo continued. “There are moments when I feel I can never forgive him for doing that to my mother, to me…even to Piven. But my head tells me it was a show, specifically for my benefit. He wanted me to feel sickened and enraged. He was deliberately pushing me into making a soul promise to exact revenge.”

  Gavriel suddenly knew Leo was right. He knew the former king well enough to know that was exactly how Brennus’s mind worked. His father had told him often enough that the king would always, always put the throne first. “I hate him for doing that to you, Leo.”

  Suddenly, and despite all his brave talk, the young king crumpled, finally weeping. Gavriel could do nothing except hug the boy, mourning an entire family lost within the space of a day. He would see Leo sit the Valisar throne one day, he swore silently. Even if it took him his entire life, to his final breath.

  Finally the trembling stilled. The boy king pulled himself away with an embarrassed sniff and what seemed to be a new resolve.

  “You will never see me shed tears again over anything or anyone,” Leo whispered and the threat was spoken in such quiet rage it chilled Gavriel, who could say nothing in response. But he didn’t need to; the king was already moving. “Get the bow we discussed. We need nothing else except our cloaks—food be damned. We go farewell my mother.”

  Twelve

  Freath had stealthily moved up the stairs, well in front of the two women, just in time to intercept Genrie. He knew he had only moments. “I didn’t want to ask earlier in front of the Vested. Did it happen?” he murmured.

  She nodded once and he saw the bruises on her beautiful face had darkened to purple. “Exactly as you said it would,” she replied, self-consciously touching the spot where his gaze rested.

  “Don’t be too brave, Genrie. I couldn’t bear—” But time ran out on him. “And see to it that fresh linens are provided immediately,” he ordered as Valya rounded the staircase.

  “Who is this?” Valya demanded.

  “Madam, this is Genrie. She will attend to Dara Negev personally and will also supervise your attendance. Genrie will organize a maid for your hour-to-hour needs. I hope that will suit you.”

  “Do you beat your servants?” she sneered, glancing at Genrie’s bruised face.

  “I don’t, no. Your friend Stracker does.”

  “Freath? Is that your name?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “I couldn’t give a hog’s arse about you servants but I want you to be sure that Stracker is no friend of mine. Is that nice and clear for you?”

  “Perfectly,” Freath replied and could tell his composure irritated her.

  “Good. You girl!”

  “Yes, mistress?” Genrie asked.

  “Call me that again and I’ll order your tongue cut out. You may address me as Lady at all times. Only speak when spoken to and do not raise your eyes to me like that, you slut.”

  Freath noticed Genrie bite back a gasp. “Apologies, my lady,” she murmured, eyes appropriately downcast.

  “It’s nice to see you making friends already, Valya,” Negev said, her tone so dry it made Freath want to cough.

  Valya immediately changed approach. “These Penravian peasants need to understand who they’re dealing with,” she said, in an injured voice.

  Freath winced privately.

  “And now they do, thanks to you,” the older woman commented, turning away. “Show me my suite, Master Freath. It is of no consequence if Iselda is still there. I shall take immense pleasure in having her thrown out.”

  He said nothing, simply nodding. Looking at the younger woman he said deferentially, “Genrie will show you to your chamber, my lady. Please let us know if there is anything at all we can do for you.”

  She didn’t acknowledge him, but simply turned on her heel. “Show me!” she said, scowling at Genrie, then throwing a glance over her shoulder at the older woman. “I am going for a ride, Negev. I need to clear my head of its anger.”

  “I think that’s a very good idea. Don’t get lost,” Negev replied. Somehow Freath wasn’t sure Loethar’s mother was being sincere.

  “This way,” he said. “The former queen’s chambers are in another wing.”

  “Good. I find Valya quite tiring.”

  With his back turned to the older lady, Freath could raise his eyebrows slightly at her admission. “She is probably feeling odd and unwelcome.”

  “That’s because she is odd, Freath, and she is most unwelcome. She is as much a foreigner to me as you are.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “I think so. I shall be careful to minimize your contact with her if you wish, Dara. Just guide me in what it is you desire.”

  She had drawn alongside him and was staring at him. “Oh, you are good, aren’t you, Freath? And there I was simply putting you down for a crawling coward. Slippery really doesn’t sum you up well enough, does it?”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, you do, Freath. I can see why my son likes you. Very strange. My son doesn’t let anyone close—his closest companion is that wretched bird. Not even I take precedence.”

  “Oh, come now, Dara, I’m sure—”

  “I speak the truth. My son is a very lone individual, Freath. For him to allow you to live is extraordinary enough but to allow you into his inner sanctum has me puzzled. He obviously sees in you what I do.”

  “Which is?”

  “A far more complex mind than you’d like us to believe. You want us to see only the obsequious servant. But I know rat cunning lurks behind that expressionless façade.”

  “Really, Dara Negev, I think you are getting me wrong. I am truly no more than a formerly wronged servant getting his due. I have been completely honest in my desires. But I will give my loyalties to your son, if he’ll allow it.”

  “Well, incredibly, I think he already has, considering what he has permitted you so far. Beware of my other son, though, Master Freath. He lacks Loethar’s finesse and subtlety.”

  “I plan to stay well out of his way, Dara.”

  She laughed again. “Wise words.”

 
; “This is the entrance to the former queen’s suite.” Freath motioned to the double doors at which they had arrived.

  “Lead the way, Freath,” she said and he heard the hunger in her voice once again.

  “Just give me two moments, Dara.” At her look of surprised enquiry, he hurried to add, “Indulge me, madam.”

  She nodded, a look of disdain on her lined face, her lips pinched into a scowl. “As you see fit. I shall sit here. Do not test my patience, Freath.”

  Clovis and Kirin were still none the wiser as to their purpose. They were currently being held under guard in a small chamber with only a small window, more for air than for seeing much through.

  “Where are we?” Kirin murmured again.

  “I told you I don’t know. I was bundled up here after you’d collapsed and I was so worried, I didn’t really pay attention.”

  “And they told you nothing about Reuth? Nothing at all, no clue to her whereabouts?”

  “No, I tell you,” Clovis replied, irate. “I thought she was behind me. I thought they all were. But we were separated. I ended up alone here with that creepy Freath fellow.”

  “What did he say…exactly?”

  Clovis sighed. “He said I was to wait here and not to make a noise and not to draw attention to myself. And if I listened to him I would be safe.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Well, he said he was going to find you and discover what had happened. So what happened?”

  Kirin leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “I pried.”

  Clovis’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Kirin waited, and finally the bigger man asked the inevitable question. “Who?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “Stracker?”

  Kirin nodded wearily.

  “And?”

  “I couldn’t do it for very long. I actually only glimpsed within him because it’s dangerous. As I told you all, he likes men, preferably boys. Killing brings him pleasure, so he usually combines both preferences.”

  “I fear for that boy he took,” Clovis said, shaking his head.

  “You should.”

  “What else?” Clovis asked hurriedly.