The Prince Deceiver (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 6)

by Karen Azinger

  The pain stopped.

  Her heart thundered, afraid to move. Sopping with sweat, she shuddered upon the floor. No blood, she stared at herself, surprised to be whole and alive.

  "I'll not kill you...yet." The Mordant's voice was smooth as velvet. "Far better to let you witness the sullying of your name and the corruption of your legacy, a torture befitting an arrogant woman who dares to call herself a queen." The Mordant snapped his gaze to one of the dark-clad assassins. "Dolf, Scarlin, with me, the rest of you keep watch till sleep claims the castle. If the queen gives you any trouble, start killing her women." The Mordant strode from her chamber, the traitor and the two assassins on his heels.

  The queen lay on the floor, sundered by all that had happened, admonishing herself for so many mistakes. Checkmated by the enemy. She hadn't expected bloodshed in her halls...she hadn't expected the Mordant. Shivering, she made the hand sign against evil, yet it brought her no comfort. Liandra longed to disbelieve, to imagine any other foe, but the proof was too convincing, too devastating. The Mordant, her mind floundered on his name, a legendary nightmare come calling. How could a mere mortal hope to best the Mordant? Her mind skittered away, stricken by the deaths of Sir Durnheart and her loyal guardsmen. And then she remembered the apothecary-monk burnt by fire...and the monk brutally beheaded in her very castle. She gasped at the depth of his plotting, how his schemes had burrowed like tentacles into her kingdom, and she had not known. She had not known, yet something he said came back to her. Till the castle sleeps, her mind fastened on the phrase like a light in the dark. If he needed to wait till everyone slept, it meant he did not own her castle...not yet. It meant there was still hope.

  The queen stood.

  A dark-haired assassin drilled her with his stare.

  "We need to see to our women."

  He glided towards her.

  She stiffened, remaining statue-still, uncertain of his intentions.

  He snatched her ceremonial sword from its sheath and then gestured the queen towards her women.

  Liandra went to them, but she kept a watchful gaze on the assassins. Determined to grasp at any hope, she would bide her time. She would wait and she would watch, spinning her own plots. A smile flickered across her face, recalling how she'd defeated the Mordant at chess. He can be beaten. The memory offered only the faintest hope, yet she clung to it. Liandra vowed to all the gods that somehow she would find a way to foil the Mordant...or die trying.

  61

  The Mordant

  The Mordant sent the traitor and two of his assassins to clear the throne room. Cloaked in black, he waited in the shadows, fondling the malachite coin. Evicted guards dribbled from the throne room casting curious glances his way but none uttered a word in protest. The palace roiled with confusing rumors. Some whispered the queen was dead. Others swore a brutal assassination attempt had been foiled leaving the queen in hiding and the royal tower bloody. Everyone knew the knight protector was slain, a fact that seemed to lend truth to both rumors. The Mordant smiled. Listening from the shadows, he sipped the rumors like a fine wine, savoring the confusion. Instead of danger, the chaos created opportunities. Most palace guards did not know what to believe or whom to fight, so they obeyed the first authoritarian figure that came their way. In this, as in other things, the traitor served his purpose.

  Raddock and the two assassins emerged from the throne room. "All clear."

  Indulging a whim, the Mordant entered the throne room alone.

  So this is the throne room of the Rose Queen. Corbelled vaults of glistening white stone soared overhead, the side walls studded with diamond-paned windows reaching from the checkerboard floor to the vaulted ceiling. Gold fretwork embellished the windows with roses, swords and scrolls. Braziers stood between the windows, standing guard against any shadows. Sunlight poured through the windows, filling the throne room with a glittering brightness, yet the abundant Light could not hold sway against Darkness. The Mordant strode the length of the chamber, his dark cloak sweeping across the checkerboard floor like a stealthy conqueror. He found the throne room shockingly small and mundane compared to his great basilica in the north. The architecture bespoke wealth rather than power, the embellishments simpering rather than fearful...yet he liked the checkerboard floor. Black squares set against white, as if all of Erdhe were nothing more than a game board. The illusion amused him. The Mordant crossed the board to mount the dais. A confection of gold roses, the Rose Throne was far too feminine for his tastes. He'd have it melted down and design another. Perhaps he'd order a new throne carved from a massive black crystal. He'd heard whispers of a wondrous new discovery across the Western Sea in the deep mines of the Tarmack Mountains. Smoky quartz crystals the size of a plow horse, he'd send his MerChanters to fetch one. He imagined a throne carved from a single smoky crystal, something dark and imposing, massive and powerful, befitting an immortal emperor.

  Cloaked in black, the Mordant sat upon the Rose Throne contemplating the Great Dark Dance.

  The sunlight dimmed to gloom. Rain pelted the diamond-paned windows, streaking tears down the glass as if the heavens wept. And well they should, for all of Erdhe was nearly his.

  How easily all of his enemies fell before him. The monks in Pellanor were dead, charred by their own fireball. The Rose court fell prey to seduction and corruption, enacting laws and taxations penned by the Mordant. The queen foolishly allowed herself to be captured rather than killed, becoming a pawn in the game, a puppet awaiting fresh strings. The princess of Navarre had proved an unexpected boon, another pawn awaiting execution, an enticing sacrifice that would forever damn the queen in the eyes of Erdhe. In the north, the Dark Sword was in play, yielding a cunning revenge, while his armies poured from Raven Pass, poised to conquer the south. His only setback was the fall of the Dark Citadel, a loss he still did not understand. A surprise attack by the upstart knights, he'd reclaim the Citadel once the south was secured.

  He imagined the map of Erdhe in his mind, every kingdom bearing his stamp.

  Soon all of his enemies would bow before him.

  In the meantime, he had histories to rewrite and a future to corrupt.

  He'd dangle the queen in front of her people, letting her garner the blame for the pain and chaos that was to come. The Mordant smiled like a hungry serpent, enjoying the game of deceive and ruin. How he loved the Great Dark Dance. Power surged through him, a boon from his god.

  The Mordant rose from the throne. Pulling the hood of his robe forward, he hid his face as he crossed the checkerboard floor, for it was not yet time to come out of the shadows.

  Epilogue

  Kath prowled the deck of the Sea Sprite, scanning the ocean for enemy ships. To the west, the sea stretched to forever, a rolling gauntlet of gray waves flecked with white teeth, the birthplace of fierce storms. To the east, angry waves battered against towering black cliffs, a forbidding shoreline full of rocky traps and treacherous whirlpools, offering death to unwary ships. If the sea turned hostile, they'd find no safe harbors along the basalt cliffs. The Sea Sprite threaded the dangers, sailing between the vast ocean waves and the sinister coastline, yet to Kath's mind, the most lethal threats were the MerChanter raiders, relentless predators prowling the sea.

  A rogue wave slapped the prow, sending a frothy spray shooting over the railing. Kath flinched away but the spray caught her, more rust for her chainmail. She licked the salty tang from her lips. At least for now, the sea seemed empty of ships. Three times they'd fought the great triremes, the raider ships bearing down on them like hungry sharks, their oars churning the ocean to a fearsome beat. Kath fervently hoped she never saw another trireme in her entire life, but it would have been a comfort to spy the colorful sails of the Navarren fleet, to know they weren't alone. It seemed forever since they'd set sail from the Dark Citadel. Ambushed by MerChanter raiders, the Sprite had long since lost sight of the other merchant ships. Kath wondered how they fared. Alone, the Sea Sprite limped south, bearing a legion of battle scars.


  Sailors climbed the rigging, sewing canvas patches on the mainsail. Tattered sails beat against broken spars, the checkered canvas straining against a crisp wind. Kath lingered by the ship's figurehead, the prow blackened and burnt, scorched by fires. Bloodstains leached into the deck, becoming part of the ship. The north exacted a bitter toll. Sometimes she wondered if they'd ever escape.

  Blaine made his way towards her, the hilt of his blue steel sword rearing over his right shoulder. "See anything?" He kept a firm grip on the railing.

  "Only waves."

  He scowled, "I'm sick of them too."

  Somehow Kath had escaped the ravages of seasickness. She thanked the gods for their favor. "Looks like you finally got your sea legs."

  "My legs belong on land."

  "Just so." Kath knew her painted warriors felt the same. They'd endured much to follow her south.

  His gaze turned west. "It's getting lower in the sky."

  She followed Blaine's stare towards the red comet, a searing scar hanging low above the roiling ocean. "I know." Tension riddled her shoulders, feeling trapped on the ship while the Mordant worked his will upon the south, yet there was nothing she could do to hasten the voyage. Her hand gripped the crystal dagger, beseeching Valin's aid. Time was growing late.

  "I wonder what we'll find when we finally reach Navarre."

  Kath gave him a sharp look, wondering if he'd guessed her fear. Many a night she woke sodden with sweat, dreaming they'd come too late to the south...too late to stop the Mordant. She'd seen the horrors of the Dark Citadel...and they haunted her. In her worst nightmares, the south became the north, a land of cruel barbarity, everyone enslaved to the Mordant's will. A shiver raced down her back. Kath made the hand sign against evil, shunning the vile visions. "The gods will lend a hand," but her words held little conviction.

  Blaine gave her a sour look. "If the gods are in this fight, I wouldn't know it."

  She parried his pessimism with a stout reply. "The Navarren fleet came north."

  He gave her a disgusted look that said he wasn't sure the sea voyage was a good thing.

  She supposed from his perspective it seemed an ill-turn, yet to Kath it was a god-given boon, the only way to escape the winter's bitter grip on the Dark Citadel, the only way to follow the Mordant south and bring her army to bear. But they hadn't escaped yet and if they came too late it would not matter...and she did not know how the other ships fared. The harsh truths nagged at her, multiplying her worries.

  Blaine leaned on the railing. "I was meant to wield a sword, not wallow on a ship."

  She heard the bitterness in his voice. "Yet even aboard ship, your sword made a great difference."

  He gave her a thoughtful look. "In the Citadel, something happened...," but then he fell silent, as if mulling his words.

  For half a heartbeat, she thought he would say something more, but then the lookout sang a warning. "Isles to the port side!"

  A hearty cheer rose from the Sprite's crew.

  Startled by the sailors' response, Kath gazed to the left, straining to see, but all she found were white-capped waves. "Do you see it?"

  Blaine shook his head, "No."

  Puzzled, she made her way back to the aft deck, climbing the stairs to stand by the captain. "What is it?"

  Juliana flashed a dazzling smile. "The Orcnoth Islands!"

  The name meant nothing to Kath.

  "A safe port and a warm welcome! The Orcnoths owe allegiance to Navarre!" Juliana pointed to the southeast. "See how the waves break against the rocks like a white banner against the sea, a sure sign of land. And beyond the Orcnoths, the sea color brightens from dusky gray to warm turquoise." Juliana grinned, clapping Kath on the back. "The sea color never lies, my friend. We're nearly home! We've done it! We've escaped the north!"

  Escaped the north, the words echoed in Kath's mind like a long-held promise. She gripped the railing and stared south. Now that she knew what to look for, she saw the low-slung isles, little more than rocky crags topped by green pasture. Beyond the isles, she noticed how the southern sea gradually brightened to a welcoming turquoise. Nearly home, though it was not Kath's home, she felt a welcome warmth spread through her, for it truly meant they'd escaped the north. Her gaze was drawn to the west. The red comet still lingered on the horizon, not yet set. For once the comet gave her hope, a reminder that the outcome of the Battle Immortal was not yet decided. Kath gripped the crystal dagger, keen to make a difference. Perhaps the gods had not abandoned them after all.

  APPENDIX

  LANVERNESS

  Lanverness is an old kingdom, steeped in tradition, often relying on its wealth of natural resources and the shrewdness of its rulers to grow in prosperity and influence. Never fecund, the royal line of Lanverness has been forced to branch out several times over the centuries. The Rose Throne is currently held by the Tandroths. The Tandroths nearly lost the throne when the last king of Lanverness, King Leonid, failed to produce a male heir. The king survived a revolt and forced his noblemen to accept his only daughter, Liandra, as the heir to the Rose Throne on the condition that she marry a peer of the realm. Liandra is the only queen to rule a kingdom of Erdhe. Under Queen Liandra’s stewardship, Lanverness has become the wealthiest kingdom in all of Erdhe.

  The symbol of Lanverness is two white roses crossed on a field of emerald green. The seat of their power is Castle Tandroth, rising from the heart of Pellanor, the capitol city.

  QUEEN LIANDRA TANDROTH, ruler of the Rose Throne, also known as the White Rose of Lanverness, also known as the Spider Queen

  -her husband, PRINCE-CONSORT DONALD TERREL, chosen from among the noble families of Lanverness, Lord Terrel was raised up to be the Prince-Consort to the queen on condition that he forsake his name and his lineage. He died in a hunting accident shortly after the birth of his second son. The heraldry of house Terrel is a red unicorn rearing on a field of green.

  -their children:

  PRINCE STEWART, heir to the Rose Throne, promoted to general of the Rose Army, wields a blue steel sword

  PRINCE DANLY, spare heir to the Rose Throne, a condemned traitor

  PRINCESS ASELYNN, died at birth

  UNNAMED PRINCESS, died at premature birth, some consider it murder by poison

  -her councilors:

  LORD ROBERT HIGHGATE, the Master Archivist, the queen’s shadowmaster, right hand to the queen

  MASTER RADDOCK, deputy shadowmaster serving the queen, was once a condemned thief, rescued from the dungeons by the Master Archivist

  SIR DURNHEART, the Knight Protector, raised to a knight after the Red Horn rebellion, wields a blue steel sword named Loyalty

  LORD TURNER, a former member of the queen’s council, boiled alive for treason, a harlequin of the Dark Lord

  LORD SHELDON, the Lord Sheriff, leader of the constable force of Lanverness

  MAJOR RANOTH, promoted after the rebellion, he serves as a military advisor to the queen

  LORD SADDLER, a goldsmith raised to a lord after the rebellion, the Master of Coin on the queen’s council

  LORD RICKMAN, the Lord of Mines, responsible for the ruby, emerald and iron ore mines of Lanverness

  LORD CENRIC, a cat-eyed archer, he sits on the queen’s council when he is in Pellanor, leader of Clan Hemlock, his loyalty is to the Treespeaker and the Deep Green, he wears a cloak of peacock feathers

  LORD CANNING, newly appointed Treasurer

  LORD GRANGE, newly appointed Royal Scribe

  PRINCESS JEMMA, princess of Navarre, a Royal J, wayfaring with the queen to learn the way of multiplying coins, sits on the queen’s council as the representative from Navarre

  -her ladies-in-waiting:

  LADY SARAH JAMESON, a distant cousin of the queen, principle lady-in-waiting to the queen

  LADY MARTHA, a lady-in-waiting to the queen

  LADY AMY, the youngest of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting

  LADY LINDSEY, a lady-in-waiting to the queen

  -other member
s of the court:

  SIR CARDEMIR, fifth son of the Duke of Graymaris, the seahorse knight, sent by the queen as an emissary to the Kiralynn monks, murdered by the Mordant’s treachery

  FREDERINKO, an emissary from the Empire of Ur, a chained servant of the twelfth-fold prince of Ur, come to the Rose Court bearing gifts, sent to prepare for the prince’s arrival

  MASTER FINTAN, an emissary from the Kiralynn Monks to the Rose Court, mysteriously murdered in the queen’s castle

  CAPTAIN BLACKMON, captain of the queen’s guards

  HEALER CRANDOR, a master healer of the Rose Court

  LORD NEALY, once a lord on the queen’s council, he fell from favor and was banished from the queen’s presence, owns a wealthy mansion in Pellanor

  MAULKIN, a shadowman serving the queen

  MASTER CARL, master baker in the royal kitchens

  LADY CLARA SADDLER, wife to Lord Saddler

  DUKE ANDERS, a former member of the queen's council, resigned several years ago after many arguments with the queen

  LORD WESLEY, a peer of the realm

  LORD FERDIC, a minor peer of the realm

  LORD WEATHERLY, a minor peer of the realm

  THE PEOPLE OF PELLANOR

  MASTER NUMAR, a master of the Kiralynn Order and a skilled herbalist, he is posing as the master of an apothecary shop, The White Unicorn, in Pellanor

  SIMON, a monk of the Kiralynn Order serving as an assistant to Master Numar

  GIDEON, a monk of the Kiralynn Order serving as an assistant to Master Numar

  MINARA, the madam of a back alley whorehouse

  LUCINDA, a young prostitute working for Minara

  BURT, the innkeeper of The Silver Swan

  MERCHANT GILROD, an influential merchant in Pellanor

  MERCHANT LANGFORD, an influential merchant in Pellanor

  MERCHANT HARSTOW, an influential merchant in Pellanor