“Aye, my Liege,” Tanres said, and after noting Madlen’s name, she spoke again. “Any other suspects?”
“It seems we’ve covered it,” Holder Corday said once an appropriate moment of silent contemplation had passed.
The four of them looked up at a knock on the door. “Ah, Elor, I presume,” Lisen said. “Enter!”
The door opened, and they all watched as Elor, accompanied by a guard, stepped in.
“You may leave,” Lisen ordered the guard who turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Elor stood where he’d stopped, his blue eyes so hard they could have ripped through the throats of everyone at the table. “My noble aunt and my not-so-noble uncle,” he said, the sarcasm oozing from every word. “I see the room isn’t quite back to normal after last night’s disaster.” He nodded toward the edge of the straw.
“No,” Lisen replied. “Now, come, take a seat.”
“Yes, of course. You want to talk to me.”
The boy sauntered over to the conference table and took a seat directly across the circle from Lisen. Something in the way he moved riled Korin’s instincts. The boy was trying too hard to appear nonchalant. There was a particular level of not caring that spoke of guilt, but this was a heavier burden on Elor’s shoulders. He didn’t do it, Korin realized with certainty, but he’s afraid we’re not going to believe him. It was a thought he kept to himself, for now.
“As you seem to already know,” Lisen stated, “an attempt was made on my life last night. You can understand why we put your name on the list of possible suspects.”
“Of course, my Liege.”
“I asked you here so we can rule you out and give you back your freedom.”
“Well, consider this,” the boy stated before any questions could be asked. “Why would I risk everything right before my investiture? I’m finally coming into my inheritance and ‘freedom’ from your restraints as my guardian, and I’d give that all away? That would be foolish, and I am not a fool, dear Aunt.”
“No, you’re not,” Lisen replied.
“My Liege?” Korin risked speaking again.
Lisen raised an eyebrow, he shook his head at her, and she sighed, then turned back to the boy. “You may go,” she said, dismissing him. Once the door had closed behind him, she turned to the commander. “Take him off the list.”
“My Liege?” Tanres asked.
“My spouse has reason to believe it wasn’t him.”
“Korin?”
Korin smiled at Tanres. “He carried himself like he was afraid we’d believe he did it, not like someone who had.”
“But hold off releasing him from his enforced confinement,” Lisen added. “Let him live a little longer in fear. Don’t want him thinking I’ve gone soft. Now, how do we proceed from here?”
“Identifying your attacker would move us much closer to her employer,” Holder Corday stated.
“We should question everyone who’s been in the Keep since before the Closing dinner,” Korin suggested.
“Meaning?” Lisen asked.
“Meaning,” Korin replied, hoping to regain her confidence, “that I think she could have been secreted in as early as three days ago, maybe more. With a few supplies, and maybe a Guard uniform, she could have hidden out for some time.”
“If she were holed up somewhere, there may be signs of it,” Tanres said and started to rise. “I’ll institute a search.”
“Yes,” Lisen replied. “And report back to me as soon as you know anything.”
“I will keep you updated, my Liege.” And with a nod, the commander was gone.
Lisen turned to her Will. “Nalin, I don’t see any point in your staying, but only if you promise to take a guard with you. And to keep the ones already sent.”
“My Liege.”
Korin heard the edge in the holder’s voice, but once Lisen had settled a thing in her own mind, she presumed it was settled in everyone’s mind.
“I mean it, Nal. And if it improves your mood at all, I will be under increased scrutiny as well.”
Nalin sighed. “As you wish, my Liege. I’ll leave in the morning.”
Lisen rose. “Now if you will both excuse me, I’m going to take a nap.”
Korin watched her walk out of the room, then leaned back in his chair, one leg extended slightly to the side.
“What made you say that?” the holder asked.
“Say what?”
“What you said about Rinli being influenced by anyone but Lisen.”
“Oh, that. It’s not a good time for us to be discussing Rinli in front of others.”
“I’ve never heard her get that mad at you before.”
“I have,” Korin said and snorted a single laugh. “But the public persona is everything to her, as I’m sure you’ve realized by now.” The holder nodded, and Korin continued. “As soon as she leaves our bedchamber behind, she takes on the mantel of Empir Ariannas. It did take me some time to understand that.”
“Yes, I experience that as well with her, but it was that way with Flandari, too. That sense of responsibility to the position.”
Korin stood and went directly to the built-in cabinets behind Lisen’s desk. There, behind the appointed door, he found several bottles of wine and goblets. He chose a bottle, grabbed two goblets and brought them all back to the conference table, setting them down between himself and Corday.
“We have a lot in common you and I,” he said, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring wine into both goblets. “And I’m thirsty after all that work. How about you?”
Nalin smiled and raised his empty goblet to Lisen’s spouse for filling. “Very thirsty,” he replied. “To the Empir.”
“To the Empir,” Korin echoed, and after tapping their goblets together, they each took a great gulp of wine.
In the mid-afternoon of this complicated day, Korin made his way up the stairs. Guards stood at every door, watching and waiting for another attack on the Empir or one of her children. Or even Korin himself. Living in the Keep was difficult enough under ordinary circumstances, but he’d never seen security this tight ever—not in his brief stint in the Guard, nor throughout all his years as Empir-Spouse.
He kept his eye to himself, choosing not to acknowledge the presence of the women and men with whom he often sparred in the training yard beyond the stable. His relationship with them there was meaningful and productive, but this was his personal life, and damned if he was going to allow them the privilege of infringing on it in such irresistible numbers.
He ignored the woman standing directly in front of his door. Her job to guard; his to side-step her to gain access to his own bedchamber. He stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him. The drapes had been drawn against the sun’s light, and Lisen lay sleeping in their bed. Although he admired her strength, her tenacity, her refusal to surrender to second choices, the woman lying vulnerable on her side in front of him was the Lisen he loved more than any of her other permutations.
He watched her breathing, even and slow, and marveled at the wonder that had created their union. When he looked at her, even in public, he never saw the Empir; he saw a girl fresh from Solsta Haven who’d used her mind to hold back a mudslide, allowing him to save Jozan Tuane’s life. Tuane would have died then without Lisen’s magic. That was the day he realized, if only subconsciously, that he wanted her more than life itself. Recognizing the hopelessness of his plight—if not the plight itself—he’d made a point of distancing himself from her.
Until they ended up in Thristas, alone together. One night of love, or lust, if one chose to see it that way—he didn’t. He’d known then what he could no longer run from. And that’s when he told her he loved her.
He sighed, then unbuckled and pulled his belt from around his tunic. He stood for another moment, smiling at her sleeping form, then sat down on his side of the bed. She moved and rolled over to face him.
“I woke you. I’m sorry.”
She stretched and yawned.
“I should probably get up. What time is it?”
“Mid-afternoon. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you in time for dinner.”
She sat up behind him, and he turned where he sat to look at her. She still wore the grey tunic she’d put on this morning. He’d marked it an interesting choice at the time, as though she were mourning for something, but what? Loss of security, loss of innocence, loss of loss? Didn’t she realize she’d survived?
“So,” she began, “our daughter is easily influenced by anyone but me, huh?” She leaned back on her elbows and gave him the look—the look that told him forgiveness lay on the horizon but she wouldn’t help him get to it.
“Truthfully, I couldn’t believe you found it so easy to put Rin on the list.”
“She belongs on the list.” Lisen sat up straight again. “She has everything to gain, if she chooses to pursue it. And even though you and I both know it could never be her, we can’t let the very relationship which makes her a suspect keep us from purposely disproving her involvement.”
He nodded. “I know. Let’s just hope we can identify the assassin quickly so we can take her off the list before we have to investigate her.”
“Any progress with that?” Lisen asked, scooting over closer to him.
“I just left Tanres, and she and I believe the clothes she was wearing are made of caral wool. The caral can only be found in the more northern holdings.”
“Which may eliminate Meeken and possibly the Thristan connection. But the source of her clothes may be a way to put us off.”
“We did consider that. Tanres has her best people on it. Also, the woman wore her hair in a more northern fashion.”
“Again, if she were any good—and she did manage to get into the Keep and to me without getting caught—she may have done all she could to send us in the wrong direction. I mean, I can’t imagine she expected to survive.”
Korin shook his head and reached out to run his fingers through her flaming hair which hung loose and tousled from sleep to her shoulders. “No doubt about it, to get that far, she knew what she was doing. So disguising herself as someone she wasn’t could easily have been a part of her plan.”
Lisen shivered, and Korin pulled her in close. “I don’t care about me so much,” she said.
“I do,” he protested softly.
“But the children. What if whoever was behind this goes after the children?”
He kissed her on the forehead, then held her tighter. “We will figure this out. And until then, Tanres will see to it that all the guards assigned to the family are checked and double-checked every time they take their stations.”
“I remember how complicated everything was when I first became Empir. Then life took on its own rhythm, and I adapted. Council twice a year and a month or so before each session devoted to preparation. You and Rinli gone early spring and early fall. It got easy. But this. This jarred me.”
“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “For now, we’re safe. We’re all safe. This is what the Guard does best.”
“They guard,” she said, and he could sense her smile as he continued to hold her. “Creators, I love you.”
His mind and body softened. These three words never failed. But he wondered if, under the circumstances, she might not desire him as he desired her. He kissed her ear and nuzzled into her hair. “You smell of that flower. What is it? Small white flowers with yellow pistils, and they grow all over the park in little clumps.”
“Turbaum. I find their fragrance soothing.”
“Ah, yes, their oil.” He smelled it rarely on her, but that was only because the oil was difficult to produce, with all the flowers from many of those clumps required to yield a single vial. Hence, she used it sparingly rather than deplete the park of their beauty. The fact that she had chosen to anoint herself with a dab or two today spoke of a soul reaching out for calming.
She put her hand to his cheek and turned him to face her. She brushed a finger slowly across his lips and then leaned in to kiss him.
He marveled at the sensation that always surprised him—her mouth tasted of honey. It didn’t matter what she’d eaten or how recently, when they joined together as lovers, he always came away with the sweetest taste in his mouth, as though he’d been savoring the most succulent fruit.
Familiarity often dictated the form their lovemaking took, but for the first time in a long time, the tenderness, though always present, overwhelmed all else. They approached one another slowly, hesitantly as though they were new lovers. As they began to explore each other, carefully assisting in mutual disrobing, Korin’s thoughts inexorably slid back to what he remembered of their first intertwining. Whatever had happened during the Farii, he could not recall, and Lisen—well, Lisen had probably found a way to silence her own memories of what at the time had seemed an impossible pairing. It certainly would have seemed that way to him, if he’d not been forced to deal with the manta’s venom which had left him in a haze of visions and nightmares and not much more.
Then, a year later to the day of his hasty departure from Avaret in reaction to her pushing her brother to suicide, the Council had assembled for their first session following the One-Day War, and he and Lisen had celebrated their union with all in attendance to witness. The afternoon had been warm and sparkling, and the court had cheered their joining vows as though they were two mythical heroes. When they’d left the party and come up here to celebrate alone, he’d acted like a silly boy uncertain of his welcome. She’d lost her usual boldness as well. At the time—and again now—he thought of the child they’d created during the Farii, the child he’d later pouched. Certainly that should have provided an ax to break the ice of hesitation. It hadn’t.
She drew him back to the present when, with the gentleness of a healer, she untied his eye patch, removed it and set it on the floor beside the bed.
“My captain,” she murmured in his ear.
Everything in him arose, and he murmured back, “My Liege.”
With a touch as light as breath, she brushed her fingers down his arm, then to his hip, and finally she paused at his pouch. She leaned down and kissed it, her lips a whisper on his belly. Every muscle below his waist seized up in anticipation, and he turned to the joy of urging her body to meet up with his in its heightened state of arousal.
They knew each other so well. Fifteen years blesses a union like that. Once they’d recovered from their initial case of bashfulness after their joining, they’d gravitated to every location of bliss on each other’s body. And now, for a brief moment, Korin worried about the riskiness of sharing their love in the middle of the day, but he quickly forgot in the arms of love incarnate.
After scattering every emotional cobweb that had settled between them since before they’d left for Thristas in late winter, they lay back, together, exhausted.
“I love you,” he said, and she snuggled up next to him.
“And you, my love, are my forever.”
Lisen leaned up on one elbow in bed and watched Korin dress after they’d shared an intimacy they hadn’t reached in many months. They’d relished each sensitive spot on the body of the other, arousing and aroused, celebrating their love for the first time in how long Lisen couldn’t remember. Captain Cutie, she thought, smiling broadly at his strong back as he pulled his tunic on over his head.
She sat up impulsively, slid to his side of the bed, dropped her feet on the floor and slapped her legs twice. He turned at the sound, and they grinned stupidly at each other.
“Sit,” she ordered playfully and slapped her legs again. He cocked his head, shrugged and straddled down into her lap.
“You know, I don’t really have time for another,” he said.
“Neither do I. I just wanted to prolong this moment now.” She put her hands behind his head and guided his lips down onto hers, and they kissed deep into their souls, tempting her to take him again, but she forbore and released him. “Now go. And don’t forget me.”
“How in the name of the Maker
could I forget you?” he replied with a laugh and stood, grabbed his belt and buckled it on. His scabbard with his sword came with the belt; outside of Council and the social commitments that attached to the sessions, he went nowhere without a weapon.
He should name it, she thought. Isn’t that the convention?
He started to leave, but paused at the door and turned back to look at her.
“Oh, and have someone tell Elor he’s free,” she said.
“You think he’s had enough time to ponder his yearnings?”
“Actually, I think I heard Nasera’s door open and close followed closely by Elor’s. It’s not like we’ve got him standing in a corner alone.”
“No. See you at dinner.”
She watched him leave, then contemplated her options for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps it was time for her to return to her office. She had to fully reclaim her space after the trauma of last night. She rose and dressed in one of her standard green tunics. She decided she could complete the letters of gratitude to the judges in the Ba trial, knowing full well that the news of what had happened last night would leak out as rumor to the country soon enough. She hoped that by the time that happened she’d have a suspect and a motive well in hand.
She skipped down the stairs and realized only after she reached the bottom that this was a manifestation of the Lisen of old, before all the responsibility had landed like crevix droppings on her shoulders. That thought made her snicker, but she straightened her back, held her breath against giggling at the irony of the bird that symbolized the Ilazers relieving itself on her and marched into Jazel’s office first. She would face her office in stages.
“I’m going to finish my letters to the judges,” she pronounced, barely looking at her clerk, instead concentrating on the door leading into the locus of carnage. “I’d like for them to go out first thing tomorrow.”
“Aye, my Liege. It’ll be done.”
Protector of Thristas: A Lisen of Solsta Novel Page 12