"Perhaps you'd like to see your visitor now," Trygve suggested. At Cam's nod, he spoke a word to Rhistiart, who went downstairs. Before long, a knock came at the door. Trygve opened the door to admit a plump young woman. She looked decidedly uncomfortable amid the palace's finery, but the glint in her eye was resolute. She spotted Cam in the bed and rushed forward, covering her mouth with her hands to stifle a cry.
"I'll leave you two alone," Trygve said with a wink to Cam. He turned to the woman. "Mind that you can't stay long," he warned. "He's only just awakened. I wouldn't have called for you this quickly under most circumstances."
The young woman nodded. Trygve closed the door behind him. "Cam?" she asked hesitantly.
Cammanaged a wan smile. "Hello, Rhosyn."
Rhosyn moved closer, and gasped as she got a good look at Cam's injuries. "Does it hurt?"
"Some. Though I think Trygve's given me enough drugs to fell a cow."
Rhosyn dared to touch his right arm, a rare spot between bandages. "I heard that you'd been captured," she said quietly. "There were guardsmen at the ale house talking about it. Then Dav, the boy who slops the pigs, saw the wagon when they brought you back. I came to see you, but they wouldn't let me in. The girls in the kitchen gave me a place to stay. I asked after you every day." She looked down. "I hope you don't mind."
"Trygve says I may walk, but he won't promise I can soldier," Cam said, fighting against the drugs that slurred the edges of his words. "Wants me to go to Carina and see what she can do." He tried to put on a brave face. "May be that I'll need Dav's job slopping hogs if they can't put me right."
Rhosyn squared her shoulders. "Don't you say that, Cam. How many times did father tell you that if you get tired of the palace he'd take you for a partner in the brewery? Besides being his best customer, you make a fine mash when the hops are in."
"You deserve better than a lamed old war horse like me."
"Are you deaf? Have you not heard a word I've been sayin'? You must take us for the vintners, making wine with our feet. You've a good head on your shoulders, Cam of Cairnrach. You can taste things in the brew others can't. Doesn't take a sturdy back to brew ale, but it needs a nose and a tongue that's above average." She gave him a sideways glance. "And you're smarter than you look, which could get you a good bargain with the growers."
"I don't know how long it will take before they think I'm up to the trip to Dark Haven, or how long I'll be there," Cam warned. Part of him wished desperately that he could take her in his arms, and the rest feared that she would eventually change her mind when she fully realized what a mess Ruggs had made of him.
"Then I'll wait. I've got my dad's stubborn streak. Unless you're wantin' to be rid of me." She phrased it teasingly, but Cam glimpsed uncertainty in her eyes.
"What I want is you beside me, to warm me up. By the Crone! I don't think I'll ever be warm again. As for what else I want... well, between the drugs and the way Trygve's got me bandaged up, anything else will have to wait."
Rhosyn blushed. "Mind your manners, Cam. If father heard you talk like that, he'd go to the king to save my honor, and you'd find yourself handfasted at sword's point."
"Truly a fate worse than death."
"If you hadn't been thrashed within a breath of seeing the Crone, I'd smack you for that! Seeing how you are, I'll blame the drugs." She gave him a broad grin. "There's nothing to stop me from helping you recuperate until they send you away. Might even smuggle you in a pint or two if you're nice to me."
Camfelt himself fading. "That's what I thought about, when they had me locked up. You and your daddy's ale."
"I guess that's romantic, in a strange, backhanded sort of way," she replied. "The question is, which did you miss more?"
Before Cam could answer, the door opened and Trygve returned. "He really needs to rest," the healer told Rhosyn. He glanced from her to Cam and back again. "Perhaps you'd do me a favor," he said. "Could you visit again, in a day or two? This great ox is going to need some incentive to finish his healing, and it won't be easy. Having a visitor might be the tonic he needs."
Rhosyn pretended to think about it for a moment. "Agreed." She looked at Trygve slyly. "And I can guarantee you an open tab at the brewery if you let me visit regularly."
"That's bribery!" Cam protested half-heartedly.
"Damn right it is," Trygve replied. "You have a deal," he said to Rhosyn. She blew a kiss to Cam before she turned to follow a servant from the room.
Trygve moved to stand beside Cam's bed as Rhistiart let himself back into the room. Trygve helped Cam sit and Rhistiart brought over a tray with soup, custard and a cup of watered wine. "I'm glad you've got a reason to live," Trygve said, "because the next stage in your healing may have you wishing Ruggs had finished you off. I'll have to lance the last of the poison from the blood in your arm, and after I make a few more healings to that knee, you'll need to start trying to bend it or it will freeze that way and you really won't walk again."
"I'll be ready," Cam promised, losing his battle to keep Rhistiart from feeding him. "Only next time, can you ask the cook to send up brandy?"
Chapter Thirty-five
"Sorry for the delay, Your Majesty," the young lieutenant apologized. "But the snow's drifted too deep for the horses up ahead. I've sent two men to clear a way through."
Tris Drayke nodded. The winter wind tore at his heavy cloak, whipping the new snow with blinding ferocity. A snowstorm had frustrated his efforts to travel quickly, dropping snow so heavily that they had been forced to take shelter one whole day. Now, just a day's ride from Shekerishet, their progress was maddeningly slow.
They trudged on, with four men clearing the way as the others carefully picked a path through the deep snow. But as they rounded the bend near where the old Lamb's Eye Inn stood, Tris felt a shift in the temperature that had nothing to do with the foreboding clouds overhead. He held up a hand for the party to stop.
"What is it, m'lord?" the captain asked.
Tris extended his power to make clear to them what he already saw on the Plains of Spirit. A score of ghosts glided toward them, unencumbered by the snow. Tris dismounted and walked to meet them. Several he recognized as the palace ghosts, Comar Hassad, Ula the nursemaid and Seanna. His eyes widened as he saw the newly dead spirits of Zachar, Malae, Bian the cook, Kiara's guards Ammond and Hothan and several of the palace help.
Zachar's spirit moved to the front, and he gave a courteous bow. "Your Majesty," he said. "We must speak with you before you reach the palace."
At Tris's signal, the soldiers circled their horses to provide as much shelter from the wind as possible. Tris gestured for the captain and the lieutenant to join him. Unbidden, Coalan followed them. "What happened?" Tris asked, appalled to find his old friend and loyal seneschal among the dead.
"Crevan betrayed all of us," Zachar replied. Tris listened as Zachar recounted Crevan's treachery and told of the murders. Tris felt his temper rise as Zachar told about the attacks on Kiara, Carroway's imprisonment and Guarov's use of the Council of Nobles. "We can vouch for the queen's honor, and for Carroway's as well," Zachar finished. "But what Crevan started, Lord Guarov seems intent to finish. It's the old scandal, given wings with new accusations. We know Crevan kept your letters from reaching Kiara, and hers from you. We feared for the queen and for Carroway, unless you knew the truth of what's happened since you went to war."
"Thank you, Zachar," Tris said quietly, letting the enormity of Crevan's betrayal sink in. "Once again, you've served with honor, all of you."
"Ride with haste, m'lord," Zachar cautioned. "Your lady and your friend depend on it."
Tris let the images of the ghosts fade and turned to the twenty hand-picked soldiers who rode with him. "You heard them," he said. "We have to reach Shekerishet before nightfall."
Snow was drifted deep as a man's waist against the outer walls of Shekerishet when Tris and his soldiers arrived. A cold sunset of yellow and orange silhouetted the bare trees against the horizon.
Tris pushed back his hood to reveal his face as they reached the gate, as if the guards required more identification than the king's colors on the horses' livery or the crest on Tris's shield. "Open the gates!" he commanded, chafing at the delay as the massive doors to the outer bailey creaked open. Tris and his soldiers thundered through, stirring up a cloud of snow behind them.
Tris jumped down from his horse as groomsmen ran to take his reins. He set out at a run for the palace doors, with three of the guards hard pressed to keep up with him. A stocky figure ran toward them from the guards' tower, and Tris recognized Harrtuck, even at a distance. Tris's eyes narrowed as he spotted the new gallows in the bailey yard.
"Tov, where's Kiara?"
Tov Harrtuck bowed as deeply as he could as he caught his breath in the freezing air. "Thank the Lady you're back! The queen is in her rooms. But there's something I need to tell you-"
Tris met Harrtuck's gaze. "The palace ghosts found us a day's ride out. Don't worry. I know what's going on."
With that, Tris sprinted up the steps. He dashed past the servants who stopped to stare and took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the door to Kiara's chamber he slowed, and signaled for the guards to stand back.
Now that he was finally here, his heart was in his throat. Part of him feared for the safety of Kiara and the baby, and part of him dreaded the reunion, despite the testimony of the palace ghosts. He of anyone knew that ghosts were not omniscient. While he did not doubt Crevan's treachery or Guarov's vindictiveness, his stomach tightened at the thought that the rumors might have their root in truth.
Squaring his shoulders, Tris opened the door slowly. Cerise, Alle and Macaria were in the outer sitting room. They rose as he entered, and dipped to a hurried curtsey. Cerise was the first to recover from the surprise.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty."
Tris cast aside his sodden cloak on a chair near the fire. "Where's Kiara? Is she awake? Is she all right? What of the baby?"
Alle and Macaria stepped aside as Cerise beckoned for Tris to follow her. "She slipped in and out of wakefulness for a few days, while we tried to get the wormroot out of her system." Tris listened with a growing feeling of dread as Cerise told him about the danger at Shekerishet, the decision to move to the safety of the lodge, and the near-fatal attack. "She hasn't lost the baby, although it's been close a few times. As for how the wormroot affected him-I'm afraid we may not know until after the birth."
Tris swallowed hard. "I understand." He looked past Cerise to where Kiara lay in her bed. "Will she wake if I go to her?"
Cerise nodded. "She's been alert for the last two days, although she's weak." She paused. "If I may speak boldly?"
"Please."
"She feared for your safety when you went to war. Of late, she's feared your return." Cerise's eyes met his with a fiercely determined stare. "She's been totally faithful to you, m'lord, and so has Carroway. I'll swear it on any relic. What you decide to do about the rumors is between the two of you. But please, if you mean to send her away, don't tell her just yet."
Tris moved quietly toward Kiara's bedroom, and closed the door softly behind him. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a braid, and her face looked drawn and pale against the pillow. Beneath the bedclothes, Tris could see the gently rounded curve of her belly. For a moment, he watched her breathe, gathering the courage to speak.
"Kiara?"
She stirred, and turned her head toward his voice as he closed the steps between them. Her expression ran the gamut of surprise to joy to apprehension and finally, he saw a glint of fear. "Tris? Is that really you?"
"I'm no ghost, though I feel stretched thin as one," Tris said as lightly as he could. He took her hand. "Cerise said you were doing much better. She told me what happened at the lodge."
He was unprepared for how fiercely Kiara gripped his hand. "Read my soul," she said, meeting his eyes. "I know you can."
Tris felt his heart begin to thud. "I don't have to, Kiara. I love you and I believe you. The palace ghosts told me-"
Her grip tightened. "Read my soul. It's the only way you'll know for sure. The only way you'll ever trust me-and the only reason you'll ever be certain about Carroway."
Tris's gaze held steady. "I had already resolved to stay with you, regardless."
"I don't want this between us. Don't make me beg."
Tris nodded, and reached out to lay his hand lightly over her heart. He felt the shift on the Plains of Spirit and he saw the glowing pulse that was Kiara's soul. He let his power and his consciousness slip against it, and for an instant, they were one. In that moment, he saw her memories, her fears, her thoughts. And he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she had never been unfaithful. He let her see his heart, the horror of the siege, the loneliness and worry, and the reckoning. The strength of her love for him washed across the bond, healing the ache of their separation. Tris knew that his feelings were equally clear to her, and he saw the reassurance ease the strain in her face.
Only then did he realize that he had been holding his breath. Tris relaxed as he gently disengaged, drawing back on his power. When he came back to himself, he saw that Kiara's eyes were shining with tears.
"You know?"
He nodded. "I know. And I love you" He leaned over and kissed her, laying a hand gently on her belly. "Rest. I'll take care of everything."
Tris had barely closed the door behind him before Alle stepped toward him. She held out a box. "Carroway's friends found this when they broke into Crevan's office."
Tris took the box and opened it carefully, catching his breath as he realized what it held. "The letters," he murmured.
"Yours and hers," Alle said quietly. "She wrote you every week, and she waited for word from you. Now we know why it never came."
Tris knew that pain all too well. He closed the box and handed it back. "There'll be time for us to read those when Kiara's well. Thank you." He turned toward the door, but Macaria ran to him. To his astonishment, she dropped to her knees and threw herself at his feet. "Your Majesty, please! Don't let Lord Guarov kill Carroway!"
Tris winced, looking at Macaria on the floor. "Please, don't do that." He reached a hand down to help Macaria to her feet. "The ghosts met me on the road. I know all about what happened-and I'm going to do something about it."
"Please, m'lord. Mercy!"
Tris's eyes hardened. "It's time for the court to hear from Crevan."
Two candlemarks later, Tris adjusted the collar of his satin tunic and fastened on a heavy cloak of velvet edged in ermine. A hot bath had cleaned him up from the road. His blond hair was pulled back in a formal queue, making his newly-grown beard more noticeable. Tris had already decided the beard was worth keeping.
The court would be scrambling to comply with his command to assemble in the throne room with only two candlemarks' notice. Coalan bustled about, adjusting Tris's cape and fussing over his formal jewelry, then placing the crown carefully on Tris's head. Tris smiled grimly. Let them wonder about my reason for calling the court together. Just as well they're off guard. And for those who think they know what I'm going to do, they're in for the surprise of their lives.
Four guards, hand-picked from the men who had ridden back from the siege with him, surrounded Tris as he left his rooms and headed for the throne room. He could hear the buzz of conversation at the top of the stairs, but the voices silenced abruptly as a trumpet heralded the king's arrival. Before he moved into sight, he spoke to one of his guards.
"Go to where Master Bard Carroway is imprisoned. Have him pack his things. When this is over, we'll see about his hand." The guard nodded and left to follow his orders.
The nobles rose to their feet with awkward suddenness as Tris made his way to the dais at the front where his throne awaited. Always before, he'd eschewed the show of power a slow entrance made. Now, he understood the usefulness of increasing his audience's anxiety. The less sure they were of him, the more likely they were to reveal themselves. Two footm
en removed his cape and laid it to the side, revealing the sword he wore. For this purpose, Tris brought Nexus. His grandmother's warning did not deter him, even if the sword stole another breath of his soul. This matter will be settled, once and for all.
A large space separated Tris from the crowd, an area traditionally reserved for the accused to make their pleas. To his right, in raised seats in the place of honor, sat the Council of Nobles. Acton and Dravan were present, their faces grim. Eadoin sat with them, and while she appeared even more frail than usual, Tris knew better than to underestimate her determination. Lady Casset fidgeted with a string of beads. It was impossible to read Count Suphie. Lord Guarov and Dame Nuray looked composed, even a bit excited.
The herald signaled for the assembled courtiers to sit. "While I have been at war to protect Margolan from loyalists to the Usurper, certain charges have been made against trusted members of the royal household and the royal staff. You are here to see those charges answered and for judgment to be served."
Lord Guarov cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, is it not Margolan custom for the accused to be present at these proceedings?"
"And so they shall." Tris drew Nexus, and the runes on its blade burst into flame as it left his scabbard. With one swift movement, Tris brought the sword down with both hands so that its tip bit into the wooden floor. With a rush of air, a fiery circle swept out from the blade and Tris poured his spirit magic through the sword as an athame. On the Plains of Spirit, he sent the full force of his power seeking for the one soul that had gone to the furthest shadows to flee from him. Crevan.
In the spirit realm, Tris pursued Crevan's soul until he ran it to ground. Heedless of Crevan's pleading, Tris extended his magic and his power moved like ghostly talons, latching onto Crevan's soul and digging into its substance. Damn the consequences. Damn my soul. I will see you pay, and so will they.
Tris ripped open the boundary to the Plains of Spirit and flung Crevan's ghost into the warded circle shielded by Nexus's power. A collective gasp went up from the audience, and Guarov paled. Tris struggled to rein in his anger enough to extend a civil invitation to the spirits he invoked as witnesses. One by one, they assembled outside the circle of fire. Malae. Zachar. The three men whom Mikhail was accused of killing. The butcher's son. Ammond and Hothan. Bian, and the others who had gone missing over the last few months. The assembled nobles rose to their feet and the racket grew so great that it required the herald to sound a blast from his trumpet to restore order.
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