The Children of Wrath

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Leondis accepted the nonjudgmental information without malice, suppressing the heat that came naturally to his face. “Understandably, Captain. Who would confess to such evil?” Diplomacy dictated that the prince remain at least apparently equitable. “Let’s set aside the certainty of his guilt or innocence in that matter.” He deliberately looked at Matrinka. “Right or wrong, he spent time in Pudar’s worst dungeon under sentence of slow execution.” Leondis reminded the ministers, who would expect better treatment of royalty no matter the crime, “At that time, his father had no claim upon Stalmize’s throne and was, in fact, commanding the band of Eastern murderers who obstructed all travel in the West.” Leondis glanced around to assure everyone had garnered his point but saw consideration on more than one face. “Give Prince Tae the benefit of our doubts and call him innocent. I could see where he might feel justified to commit the crime for which he had already suffered, the assassination of Pudar’s crown prince.” Leondis paused, allowing his words to fully penetrate. “If he is guilty of Severin’s murder, as several witnesses confirm, then he has obvious and clear intention of destroying Pudar’s line.”

  “But why?” Aerean asked. Though Leondis had finished his thought, Saxanar, Davian, and Kedrin all turned her nonverbal warnings for skipping formalities in the presence of visiting royalty.

  Prince Leondis chose to answer the question despite other’s discomfort. “Only Prince Tae could answer that.” He wished he could kick himself. Preventing a meeting with Tae was the foremost issue on his agenda. “I can’t help speculating that it bears some relation to his father’s purge in Stalmize. King Weile Kahn ascended from beginnings less than humble to the Eastlands’ throne.” Again, Leondis paused for effect. “Tae wouldn’t be the first son to shadow, even to best, his father.” Indirectly, he hoped, these Béarnides would recognize the threat of Tae to their own security as well.

  “Tae would never do that,” Matrinka blurted out of turn, though no one dared chastise her with words or stares.

  Leondis bowed and lifted his head before looking directly at the queen. “If I may quote the captain of our prison guards, Your Ladyship?”

  Clearly humbled by her own outburst, Matrinka returned the gesture of respect. “Of course, Prince Leondis. Please.”

  Though Leondis could not quote directly, he remembered well enough to pretend. “The difference between a habitual liar and an honest man is that the liar’s story sounds more credible.”

  Strained chuckles followed.

  The prince finished strongly. “Your Ladyship, the successful coup begins by lulling those in charge. History reveals many examples where kings lost their lives and power to their most trusted advisers or their own brothers.” Béarn had fallen twice: once to a king’s own twin; and, most recently, to the svartalf with the assistance of a long-respected prime minister and a disgruntled prince.

  A stunned hush followed those words. No one could forget the invasion that had seen the demise of the entire previous council. The current prime minister had earned his position by leading the assault that had restored the proper king. With such clear and recent evidence in front of them, even Matrinka had to see the possibility that Tae had crafted their friendship for his own dark purposes.

  Davian finally broke the silence. “So, Sire, you believe the Eastern prince’s motive is a grasp for power?”

  Leondis met the scarred face evenly. “Partially, perhaps, Prime Minister. At least initially. I believe revenge played a role. And then, there’s Kevral’s defense.”

  Several ministers vied for acknowledgment, but Thialnir leapt in first, without formality. “Kevral needs no defending. She’s Renshai.”

  Chaveeshia smoothed over her charge’s outburst, as her job required. “I don’t believe His Highness meant a physical defense, Thialnir.” She turned Prince Leondis an apologetic look. “If I may be so bold as to assume.”

  Leondis accepted Chaveeshia’s temerity without offense. “When Prince Tae stabbed me . . .” His hand wandered to the wound. “. . . he made some ludicrous accusations against me and Pudar in regard to the heir. Said he’d see to it the baby stayed with Kevral, whatever it took.” The prince shook his head. “At the time, I was too stunned and pained to think about his words; but I’ve had plenty of time since. I’m concerned that his lies might harm Pudar.” His gaze swept the assembly, steadily meeting gazes. The appearance of honest suffering would go a long way toward getting his concessions.

  A pained look crossed Matrinka’s features, and she squirmed in her chair. Griff had discarded his usual smile outside the room and appeared grim. The ministers returned the prince’s scrutiny in turn. Minister of Household Affairs Franstaine asked softly, “Why do you think he would do such a thing, Sire?”

  “He loves her,” Aerean piped in before the prince could answer, earning her another round of glares.

  Leondis conceded the point he was about to make with a gesture toward the minister of internal affairs and a nod. Even he had learned that Tae fathered one of the twins and proposed to Kevral before she married Ra-khir. Every other in the room surely already knew. The time seemed right to make his demands. “Pudar wants those lies fully suppressed. And we want the assassin extradited.”

  Several of those assembled physically jerked at the suggestion. Mouths glided open. Eyes rounded. The king finally spoke again, “Prince Leondis, I . . .” He assumed court mode, reaching for words he used there and probably nowhere else in his life. “. . .understand and sympathize with your situation. But the lowest of my citizens has the right to trial. I could no more deny him that than I could yourself.”

  “Understood, Your Majesty.” Leondis had predicted opposition. “And he will get a fair trial in Pudar.” He glanced at Boshkin who gave him a sign of strength beneath the table. A fair trial. And a fair execution.

  “Prince Leondis, I would never presume anything less from Pudar . . .”

  Unable to contain herself, the queen broke in, “But the crime occurred here.”

  Griff swung his head to Matrinka, clearly startled. Born, bred, and trained to royalty, she usually followed protocol diligently in such affairs. Only among personal friends did she disdain it.

  The queen flushed, finishing her issue in a low voice approaching a whisper. “He should be tried here.”

  “Your Ladyship.” Prince Leondis maintained his composure even after Matrinka lost hers. Such a stance, his father taught, gave him power. “I’m not asking you to forgo his rights. In fact, I could not allow it. I’m simply asking that the council consider extradition as its verdict. And that the trial occur there rather than in front of nobles and peasants who might become . . .” He sought a word that would not insult the citizenry, “. . . influenced by his lies. Your Majesty, every country has some who enjoy scandal or who seek excuses to dislike other kingdoms.”

  Boshkin whispered, “Best for him, too. Fewer knowing what he did.”

  Leondis liked the detail. It added equity. “Besides, Your Majesty, it’s safer for Tae and the East if the whole kingdom doesn’t know he attempted to assassinate a prince.”

  Boshkin made a positive signal in his lap.

  “Ah,” Griff said. “Well, if it works in his favor as well, I should think Prince Tae would agree to speak his piece to the council.”

  Though Leondis did not feel as certain, his manners did not allow him to contradict. Doing so would only spoil his argument. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Griff drew breath as Matrinka leaned toward him. He closed his mouth, listening for several moments. Then, he nodded and said something equally soft in return. Matrinka rose from the assemblage and headed for the door. Turning his attention to his bodyguard, the king spoke loud enough for all to hear. “If everyone has spoken their piece. . . ?” He paused long enough for contradictions, which did not come. “Darris, sing for us, please. Something appropriate.”

  Darris shrugged a pack from his shoulders. Removing a flat, curvy instrument, he strummed out gentle harmonics
in a rhythm as billowy as its silhouette. After a long introduction, he began to sing.

  CHAPTER 19

  Turmoil

  Strange how some of the same people who place so much emphasis on ancestry dare to brag about their methods of child-rearing. If bloodline is everything, then parenting is nothing.

  —Colbey Calistinsson

  DICE tumbled across the floor, bone clicking against wood. The first settled on one. The second skittered a moment longer, then fell showing a five. Tae settled back on his haunches. “Damn. You win again.” He tossed a copper at Rascal. “You’re cheating, aren’t you?”

  The girl took the insult in stride, regarding Tae around brown bangs that fell into her eyes. Gathering darkness softened her features, and the glow of a single lamp barely reflected from dusty hair that had surely gone unwashed for weeks. “Your dice,” she reminded.

  “You’re throwing them.”

  Rascal gathered the dice, then dropped back into a crouch. “Hain’t how ya cheats. Lessen I’m changin’ nature-laws, hain’t barely no ways I kin cheat thataway.”

  Tae did not pursue. He had made the accusation without thought or any true condemnation. Of all his contacts, he had known only one who could consistently manipulate properly made dice. Even if Rascal had had that man’s agility, it did not matter. Tae could afford the coppers, and he only played for distraction. Waiting in stoic silence left him brooding over his fate, and conversation with Rascal required intense effort. He could not concentrate enough to assure that he did not destroy the progress, minimal as it was, that he had made with her so far.

  The dice clattered across the floorboards. A momentary hush followed, then Rascal scrambled after them. “Winned agin.”

  “Hmmm?” Tae looked down just in time to see a single-throw winning combination—for himself. Not until Rascal had them securely back in her hands did he realize he had won the toss. “Wait, that . . .” Arguing seemed too tiresome. He tossed her another copper, now clear on how Rascal kept besting him. She simply capitalized on his inattentiveness.

  A solid knock resounded through the room, then the door whipped open before Tae could respond. Tensed for another round of ill-treatment, he stiffened without bothering to look toward the entrance. A moment later, the door slammed closed; and he heard an offended meow.

  Matrinka’s voice boomed, “What in Hel is going on, Tae Kahn?”

  Tae rose and whirled. Rascal answered first. “We’s playin’ dice.”

  Apparently startled by Rascal’s presence, Matrinka went silent. Mior leaped onto the bed, then sprang off the end toward Tae. Though worried for her claws, Tae caught the cat, snuggling her against his chest while she purred evenly.

  Matrinka rolled her dark eyes toward Rascal in question.

  “Here when I got here,” Tae explained. He inclined his head toward the door and the array of guardsmen that Matrinka had surely negotiated. “Can’t leave.”

  Matrinka heaved a sigh. “Come with me.” She gestured at Rascal who dropped the dice, snatched up the copper, and did as Matrinka bade.

  Tae sat on the edge of the bed, his back to the proceedings. He did not want to see any of the Pudarian guards’ insolent expressions nor engage in a war of wills. He stroked Mior’s soft fur while she pressed herself against him as if to become a part of him. “Thanks for your help, honey.” He doubted the calico had anything to do with Matrinka’s arrival; too much time had passed for that. But Mior will take the credit.

  Shortly, the door closed again, with a quiet click this time. Tae looked over his shoulder to Béarn’s queen. “I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?”

  “You’ve been in worse,” Matrinka said, the words barely encouraging given his history. “What happened?”

  Tae told his version of the events with as few words as possible, petting the cat the entire time.

  When he finished, Matrinka remained silent several moments. Finally, she said, “Leondis stabbed himself?”

  Tae looked up fiercely, worried that his own friend might challenge his claim. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth, prepared for a battle Matrinka did not give him.

  “What were you doing in that room?” Arranging her skirts with proper modesty, Matrinka perched on the side of the bed.

  Tae lowered his head. “Eavesdropping. I know I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “He said you accused him of . . . things.” Matrinka’s bright gaze held Tae’s.

  “I did,” Tae admitted.

  Matrinka’s eyes went moist. Her fingers plucked at her skirts, and her scrutiny followed them. “You promised me you wouldn’t do that.”

  “I promised not to use the information you gave me.” Tae studied the side of Matrinka’s head, the thick, black curls that tumbled over her ear. If a man could choose his own siblings, she would already be his sister. “I only threw back his own words.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Tae.”

  “Someone had to.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it.” Matrinka was right.

  “I know.”

  Finally, Matrinka glanced at Tae, though only briefly and sidelong. “You went there to hear him confirm what I told you.”

  “No.”

  “So you could get around your vow.”

  “No,” Tae insisted. “I didn’t. I went from curiosity. I wanted to know why Kevral and Ra-khir got summoned so suddenly. I worried—”

  “I told you Pudar summoned them,” Matrinka interrupted. “You had to know why.”

  “But I didn’t know just . . .” Tae started, suddenly intensely uncomfortable. “Gods, Matrinka. Maybe I did go to hear the prince speak those words.” He clenched his hands over the cat. “Keeping that vow about killed me, but I’d never knowingly break it.”

  Now it was Matrinka’s turn to say, “I know.”

  “I didn’t think I . . .” Tae began, then stopped. “Leave it at ‘I didn’t think.’” He shook back locks with barely a tangle since their cutting. “But I didn’t bring any weapons with me. And I didn’t attack anyone.”

  Matrinka caught Tae’s arm, and sudden pain flashed from the contact. Before he could decide to hide it, he flinched, and whatever words the queen intended to speak disappeared. “You’re hurt?” She slid her hand to his, turned the palm up, and drew back his sleeve.

  “The guards already judged and convicted me.”

  Matrinka’s attention jerked suddenly to Tae’s face, and he read anger in her eyes. “The guards mishandled you?”

  Only then, Tae realized the trouble he could create. “Pudar’s, not Béarn’s.”

  “Béarn’s should have stopped them.” Matrinka’s gaze rolled to a series of finger-shaped bruises. “Oh, Tae. I’m sorry.”

  Mior half rose, sniffing delicately at Tae’s arm.

  Tickled by Mior’s whiskers, Tae pushed her head away gently with his other hand. “It’s not their fault. Really. Once they warned the prince’s men, most of this happened . . . um . . . covertly.”

  “They should have stopped it.” Unable to minister to bruising, Matrinka replaced Tae’s sleeve, though she still held his arm.

  “I don’t think they could have.” Tae continued to defend Béarn’s guardsmen, though it seemed ludicrous when his own life might lie at stake. “And I don’t blame Pudar’s guards either. They had reason to believe I tried to kill their prince.” Still needing confirmation from Matrinka, he added sharply, “Though I didn’t.”

  “I believe you, Tae.” Matrinka sounded almost defensive. “But not everyone will. Prince Leondis’ wound was . . . significant.”

  “Yes.” Tae refused to repeat the events or to assert his innocence again. “So, what happens now?”

  “You come before the council.” Matrinka lowered her hands to the bedspread. “Or you can undergo a public trial, if you prefer.”

  Tae shivered at the thought. Years of living on the edge had made him leery of crowds, especially ones that might condemn him. “I’ll brave the co
uncil, thank you.”

  “Good. That’s what the prince requested.”

  “Then I’ll take the trial.”

  “Tae.”

  “Kidding.” Tae returned to stroking the cat, and she assisted by walking back and forth across his lap, pressing her body against his hand.

  Matrinka sucked in a deep lungful of air, staring at the opposite wall for several moments. Whatever came next would surely carry great significance. “Tae, maybe I’ve become too much a queen, but I truly see two sides to the matter of Kevral’s baby.”

  Shocked silent, Tae stared.

  “Spying has consequences.”

  Ire rising, Tae whirled on Matrinka, nearly dumping Mior. “Don’t patronize me. I started spying while you were still in your crib. Nobody expects a four-year-old to understand three languages, and I was always small enough to pass as years younger than my age.” Tae halted abruptly, surprised by his own words. He had forgotten about that part of his life until that moment. At the time, he had not understood the implications of the conversations he passed along to his father. “Get caught spying on criminals, and it’s a death sentence without trial.”

  Matrinka accepted the attack good-naturedly, as she did nearly everything. “That explains a lot, Tae.”

  Tae shrugged. He imagined it truly did, from his ability to notice and negotiate alternate ways into and out of rooms to the quiet stealth of his movements. Even his decision to listen in on Prince Leondis’ meeting with Ra-khir and Kevral.

  Matrinka gathered a protesting Mior from Tae’s lap and placed the cat in her own. “When you corner a lion, expect a war to the death.”

  The analogy worked well. Even the prince’s name meant “royal lion of the gods.” “He’s not exactly cornered,” Tae protested. “I clearly am.”

  “No, Tae.” Mior clambered from Matrinka’s lap with an overplayed casualness that did not fool the queen. She caught the animal halfway to Tae, earning a yellow-eyed glare and a yowl of protest. “When you revealed what you overheard, you cornered him. If it becomes common knowledge, it could cause unrest in Pudar. It could strain relationships with every other kingdom. It could foster war with Renshai. Leondis can’t let that happen.” Her hands quickened across Mior. “I don’t want it to happen either.”