Tyrant’s Blood

by Fiona McIntosh

  While Leo’s threat echoed loudly, it was Faris’s mother’s words that burned in his mind: you never realize the preciousness of what you’ve had until it’s lost. Leaving his mother was the hardest task he’d ever had to face. When he had gone to the Academy, all his siblings had long ago left home and his father had been dead for many years. She had never made him feel guilty, had never asked him to stay, but he had known she had wished he would. When she’d laboriously embroidered those poignant words onto a kerchief with his initials she had nearly undone him. But he had left, as he knew he must, and despite his best intentions had not returned home to visit. Receiving the news of her death had made him feel broken, and, if he were honest, was probably the reason that he ultimately lost his way at the Academy, striking out instead for a completely different sort of life.

  He had no idea where his two brothers lived or whether they even thought about him. He doubted it. They were twins and they had never needed him; they’d always had each other for companionship. As the younger brother he had been an encumbrance and their teasing had been relentless, especially over his differences. But he’d always been his mother’s favorite; she had reassured him time and time again that it was his very difference that made him so special. It was his mother who had suggested he keep his talent hidden and had counseled her twin sons to protect their brother’s ability. And she had recognized Faris’s intelligence from an early age; she had not been surprised when he had first broached the subject of moving to Cremond to educate himself. She had even given him the solid silver cup his father had given her on the day of their wedding.

  “Sell it,” she’d said. “It will fetch a handsome price melted down.”

  He hadn’t wanted to take it but she’d pressed it into his hands, insisting. “It’s no good to me, son, but it can do some good for you.”

  Leaving Jewd had been equally tough. Jewd was a brother to him—even back then—and the separation had been terrible, with Kilt feeling as though he’d been cut adrift from everything familiar, everything he trusted. When Jewd had brought the news of Kilt’s mother’s passing, they’d both felt a similar urge to disappear from all that was familiar.

  It was reckless, the action of youth, but it had felt wonderful to leave the Academy. They’d bought two horses and, with no plan in mind, moved in whichever direction had taken their fancy, making their living as highwaymen. From their first theft Kilt had made Jewd promise that they would keep no more than what they needed to eat and clothe themselves. The rest he anonymously donated to the convent in the east, two orphanages—one in the midlands and another down south—a small leper community on Medhaven, and so it went. Any group of people that he and Jewd felt were trying to help the less fortunate received a share of their spoils. The recipients were never told who their benefactors were although Kilt felt the wily Abbess had her strong suspicions.

  There was not a happier time for him. At least not until ten anni ago when Lily had arrived in his life with a king in tow. And now his priorities had shifted. It had happened slowly at first, so gradually that he hadn’t noticed until Jewd had quietly mentioned that as he and Lily were like an old married couple they might as well make it official.

  “Are we really?” Faris had remarked, dismayed.

  Jewd had looked at him with a wry expression. “Well, it’s either old age or it’s Lily.”

  “But what do you mean? What’s so different?”

  They’d been sitting on a log not far from the Stone of Lackmarin, staring down the incline at the carpet that leaf-fall had laid. Jewd had shifted to regard his friend. “You jest, right?”

  Faris had frowned and shaken his head.

  “Kilt, are you aware of how many precautions you now take before each raid? You’re driving the men nuts. And we raid so rarely now that sometimes I wonder how we’ll get through the winter on the few supplies we can afford.”

  “We make do, don’t we?”

  “We make do, indeed. But we don’t have much to spare. You may recall we used to give a lot back to the convent. Can you remember the last time we took coin to the Abbess? Or when we last sent money to the leper colony? Or gave to the orphanage at Talren? You always said you wanted to spread Penraven’s wealth around the whole Set, especially now it had a usurper for a ruler. Guess how long it’s been since we’ve given anything away!”

  Faris shook his head.

  “Nearly four anni. Since then, we’ve lived pretty much hand to mouth.”

  Faris felt his mouth fall open in shock.

  “No one’s complaining,” Jewd continued, “because we all chose this life but—”

  “I understand,” Faris had interrupted, for the first time realizing how things had changed. “I think I’ve turned too cautious.”

  Jewd had laid a beefy hand on his shoulder. “Lily’s a great catch, not someone to lose or to risk by living too dangerously. Plus, you’re grooming a king. You’ve done a grand job with Leo. When the time comes he will be prepared for what ever is thrown his way. He shoots an arrow as hard and as straight as any of us; his sword skills are dazzling, he—”

  “I know, I know, but still…”

  “What?”

  “I wish de Vis was still around. He had all the courtly graces and skills that Leo should have been taught.”

  “Leo already knows them. His education began the moment of his birth. When he came to us at nearly thirteen he already had sound, well honed skills.”

  “Yes, but de Vis would have polished them. Stupid fool. I’ll kill him myself if I ever clap eyes on him again. What possessed him to take off like that?”

  “You know what possessed him, so don’t play dumb. He was jealous over Lily’s obvious infatuation with you.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “I know you didn’t,” Jewd had interrupted. “I didn’t say you did. But, Kilt, you always stole the best girls from us lads even in our youth. It’s just who you are, how you look, how you act.” He had shrugged. “And you do it without much effort, damn you.” He had grinned. “De Vis reacted predictably—I should have seen it coming, anyway—but I’d certainly like to know who took him, or how he disappeared when he was so badly injured.”

  “Someone took him all right, and the arrow Leo found tells us it was a Davarigon. But why he was taken is a mystery.”

  “We’ve never followed that up properly, have we?”

  Kilt had shaken his head. “We’ve been so preoccupied with keeping Leo safe.”

  “That’s a poor excuse. Let’s make ourselves a couple of promises. I’ll start some gentle inquiries about the arrow.”

  “And the second promise?”

  “You marry Lily and make her happy.”

  Faris remembered how he had looked at Jewd that lovely leaf-fall morning. “I don’t want to stop our life—”

  “No one’s asking you to, least of all Lily.”

  “Has she said something to you?”

  Jewd had squirmed. “She doesn’t really have to. I’m just not as dense as you.” They’d laughed sadly. “But I suspect she wants more than to just be your woman in the forest.”

  “You’re right.” Faris had laughed a little. “I think at the back of my mind I’ve always believed I might not survive much longer.”

  Jewd had grown serious. “Yes, me too.”

  “I feel so guilty about the men…about you—”

  “Don’t! We can all think for ourselves. We’ve all chosen. Life was easier for us before imperial rule, but none of us want to see Loethar’s reign continue.”

  “Married.” Faris had tested the sound of the word. “Sounds nice.”

  “Doesn’t have to change anything. Lily won’t want to leave the forest and frankly, Kilt, if you don’t ask her, I’ll marry her.”

  “All right,” he’d said, grinning. “But you keep your end of the bargain. I’ve been remiss in not following up the de Vis mystery. Let’s start tracking that arrow more aggressively.”

  That had been the pl
an. And then Freath had suddenly entered their lives, changing everything. Damn the young king’s impetuous move! Faris thought. He could have made good use of Freath’s obvious cunning and position in the palace.

  He shook his head. Now that burning question had to take second priority. Lily going missing had pushed his mind into chaos. In fact, his whole life felt suddenly out of his normally very tight control. He was slipping badly if he hadn’t sensed all that anger in Leo, or seen what he was capable of. The youngster had little remorse in his heart for the killing; no matter what was coming out of Leo’s lips, Faris saw only satisfaction in the king’s eyes.

  He was Valisar all right. Cold, ruthless, a blinkered view of what honor meant. Faris shook his head again with disgust.

  Lily first. Then he would deal with the king. “I’d better find Lily soon,” he muttered to himself, “because very soon Leo will work out for himself that his authority trumps mine.”

  Lily stared at the bed, mortified.

  “Hope you like it?” the innkeeper’s wife said, beaming widely.

  Strolling around for hours on the green, trying to enjoy the festivities but really just killing time before the inevitable walk back to the inn had been bad enough. What awaited them turned out to be so much worse. They had been faced by an uproarious welcome of festival revellers eager to view any of the newlyweds. Within moments Kirin was dripping, his head doused many times by ale in a curious ritual that was supposed to make his seed strong.

  And it seemed that every man this night was permitted to kiss Lily. Strangers felt emboldened to kiss any bride they met. She had done her best to avoid the wet, slobbery smooches from the more drunken fellows, whom she was now convinced traveled into Hurtle just for the opportunity to freely kiss the girls. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d pursed her lips together to shut out a roaming tongue, or turned her head just in time so that a kiss was smeared on her chin instead of her lips.

  Kirin had looked equally dumbstruck by the rituals, apologizing every other minute, his hair, his nose, even his rather long and lovely eyelashes dripping with ale. She was staring at those same downcast eyelashes now, her face no doubt thunderous even though she knew none of this was his fault. There was so much to like about Kirin. She could tell he didn’t consider himself brave or strong and yet there was a quietly heroic quality about him that she found irresistible. With him there was no bluster, no muscles, no bravado. Kirin just seemed to possess courage and it was all the more poignant because he seemed such a lonely, somewhat sorrowful individual. And yet his smile and the dimples it produced were deliciously sunny. He was not smiling now, however.

  “Well?” the innkeeper’s wife prompted.

  “Er, it’s a wonderful surprise,” Kirin answered for them, when he clearly realized that Lily was too shocked to respond.

  The woman’s smile widened, Lily noticed, if that were possible.

  “We like to make a fuss for our wedding guests, especially on festival night. My girls have done a lovely job, haven’t they?”

  Lily stared at the bed strewn with petals and the fresh lavender stalks carpeting the floor. A scented candle was burning alongside the bed and a heart had been formed from dried and jellied fruits left in the middle of the bed’s counterpane on a platter.

  The innkeeper’s wife nudged her. “Eat the brambleberries, my girl. On your wedding night, it is said they will make you a son. If you want a daughter, go with the sugared verberries.”

  Lily felt dizzy. “Thank you,” was all she could force out.

  “All right, you youngsters, I know you’re in a hurry to be alone,” she said. “I’ll—”

  “That’s kind of you,” Kirin said, moving to show her the door, glancing anxiously at Lily.

  “Not so fast,” the woman chortled. “You strangers, I don’t know!” she said in feigned indignation. “I was just going to say I’d better send up the Kissing Party.”

  “Kissing Party?” Lily felt faint.

  The woman nodded. “We’ll get this over and done with quickly so you can have some peace.” She bustled out of the room.

  “Kirin, I—”

  “I don’t know what she means, Lily, but I promise we’ll get through it quickly. Just hold on a bit longer,” he begged.

  They stood rooted to the spot in silence. All Lily could think of was washing her face using the bowl of water and flannels that she could see on the sideboard, sluicing away the slobber of men’s kisses. Poor Kilt. If he knew…

  Her worried thoughts were interrupted by the merry sound of a stampede of people up the stairs, all singing wildly about love and fertility and being blessed by many years of affection and children. She moved closer to Kirin, instinctively clutching his arm. Kirin, Lo bless him, remained calm for both of them.

  “Someone will have to explain this to us,” he said brightly, his arm wrapping around Lily in protection.

  The innkeeper’s wife couldn’t wait to do the honors, it seemed. She held up a length of tiny pink, mauve and violet seaside daisies strung together. “Well, the marriage is now officially blessed not only by Lo but by the townsfolk. Now we need to wrap you both in simple flowers of love and witness what’s known as the Lovers’ Kiss, and then we shall leave you to your wedding supper and what ever comes after.” She giggled.

  “Lovers’ Kiss?” Lily asked nervously.

  “Get on with it, you shy young things,” the woman urged. “Lo, strike me, you’re both too old to be playing so coy.”

  Kirin held up his hands in mock defeat. “You need to understand our decision to marry was hasty. We were in love a long time ago as youngsters. The intervening years have made us hesitant and yet seeing Lily again I knew there would never be another woman for me. Never has been.” Lily realized Kirin was making a speech that he hoped they’d all remember if the townfolk were ever questioned about the marriage. Clever Kirin, trying to ensure their safety. She heard him finish with: “I’m just so blessed she said yes.”

  “I’ll say!” someone called out.

  Kirin smiled self-consciously and Lily could see how hard he was trying to keep the pretense going. “And I presume as we kiss, you will wrap us in the daisies?” he clarified, before adding, “and then you will leave me alone to my bride?”

  “Exactly,” the innkeeper’s wife confirmed, beaming as the revellers cheered.

  Kirin turned. “Lily, dear one. Allow me to express my love for you,” he said theatrically and although Lily was dying inside, she adored him for trying to help her through this difficult time. He leaned close to her ear and whispered beneath the raucous noise, “Kilt will forgive you. Make it look real.”

  She had to trust him. Reaching up, she put her arms around his neck and closed her eyes to block out her shame. She would let Kirin kiss her and she would pretend to respond. So why was she feeling so much heat in her cheeks? It wasn’t guilt, it wasn’t the humiliation…it was something else she was refusing to openly admit.

  A roar went up as she felt his soft lips gently touch hers. She was aware of people moving around her, could feel the daisy chain beginning to wrap them closer in their embrace. What she hadn’t expected was her eagerness to respond to Kirin’s gentle kiss so quickly and while she convinced herself she was simply playing her part of the deception skilfully, she found herself wrapping her arms more tightly around his neck, her lips moving in tandem with his. She was aware of his ardour in another place and dismissed that her own body was reacting to it, answering it.

  She inwardly begged for the cheering to stop and for the daisies to be done with, and especially for the kiss to end…yet still she clung to him, her tongue treacherously beginning to tentatively explore his mouth. Suddenly, and to her shock, Kirin pulled away from her, a huge roar of approval accompanying his huge, feigned grin.

  “Now look what you’ve all caused,” he said, pointing below his waist.

  Lily didn’t need to look; she had felt his desire, could feel her own tingling through her. She was brea
thing hard and could feel her cheeks flushing, and although she tried to force a smile to match Kirin’s she couldn’t. Her mind was a roiling mass of confusion.

  “I think we need to let these newlyweds finally have some peace,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “Everyone out! You both make me want to be young again,” she added, tapping Kirin on his behind and winking suggestively at Lily.

  As the last person finally trooped out, the door shutting behind her, Kirin and Lily just stood there, trapped in part by the daisy chain but mostly by their combined distress. Kirin broke the spell and the chain by turning away.

  “Please forgive me, Lily. I couldn’t—”

  “Don’t,” she begged, pulling away as well, the flowers dropping to the floor. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t mine, either.”

  “We did what we had to do,” he assured, storming over to the window and placing his hands on either side of it, staring out, no doubt to compose himself.

  She was sure he was aware she hadn’t held back. She prayed that she had fooled him. “Kirin, you’ve probably just saved my life again with that kiss, so please don’t feel bad.”

  “Bad?” he groaned. “I feel ill. I feel dirty.”

  “Dirty?” Lily repeated, unsure whether she should feel insulted.

  “I feel as though I took advantage of you,” Kirin continued.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, rushing to the window and placing a hand on his shoulder.

  He reacted as if stung, twitching away from her. “Touching me doesn’t help.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood beside him, feeling as guilty and as wretched as he seemed. “We did it to keep ourselves safe. You told me that.”

  “I know why we did what we were forced to do, Lily. I just didn’t expect to—”

  “I know. I know. Look,” she began, desperate to repair the situation. “Let’s eat something, let’s plan what we’ll do next and then let’s sleep. We need to be fresh. I presume we ride for Brighthelm tomorrow?”

  Kirin shook his head. “I’m not sure I can face the palace immediately.”