by Brandon Barr
Meluscia leaned forward in her chair. “Tell the undecided Regents this. If they want the skirmishes to continue, and food supplies to remain the same, then support Valcere. But if they want to have King Feaor as an ally, rather than enemy, then cast your vote for me as Luminess, and the fruit of the Verdlands’ farms will again flow to our storehouses. If they want our fighting forces to move from the Verdlands’ borders to the edges of the wastelands, to bring a halt to the raiding parties of Nightmares, then support my bid for the throne. And also tell them this: I have no grudges from the past and am eager to move our kingdom forward, past these beleaguered times into a prosperous future. A future that holds forgiveness for past grievances.”
Adulyyn’s full lips held a tight smile. “Well spoken. I shall tell them all of it, and more. I believe I can bring along the undecided into your camp with those words, plus a little praise of my own making to spice things up. If the council majority pulls in your favor, that will send a powerful message to Trigon. I can’t help but see it shaking his confidence in Valcere.”
Hope rose within Meluscia at her words. Adulyyn’s wit and witticism seemed capable of winning over nearly anyone she sat down with. Meluscia saw what a powerful ally this woman before her was. And more than an ally, she felt she had a friend in this woman.
“Thank you, Adulyyn. Despite what you say, I am truly in your debt.”
“If you insist,” she smiled.
“Before we depart,” said Meluscia, “I must ask you a question that’s been burning on my heart. I need your wisdom and insight on the subject of singleness.”
Adulyyn’s teeth gleamed through a mischievous grin. “I believe I detect what you speak of. Love, and its baser needs. That’s the only question I had burning in my heart as a young woman seeking leadership.”
Meluscia was surprised to find herself anxious at the Regent’s words. If this experienced woman before her could not help tame her desire—or give her some trick that served as water to quench her parched need for intimacy—what would be left to do but continue to bear the burden?
Adulyyn leaned forward. “You promise not to use what I am about to say against me?”
“I promise,” said Meluscia.
“My advice to you…find a secret lover.”
The words hit Meluscia with a jolt. Had she heard correctly? Rote words poured from her mind through her mouth: “But the scriptures and customs, they tell us otherwise.”
“The customs, yes. The scriptures…well, that depends on how you interpret them. Either way, sometimes you simply need what you need.”
Having worked in the Scriptorium under Katlel, Meluscia learned to be wary of interpretations. The scriptures seemed clear enough on the subject. But…the needs part…that, she understood.
“Do you have such a lover?” asked Meluscia.
Reticence passed briefly through Adulyyn’s features. “Yes,” she said softly, as if her words, spoken too loudly, might rumble out the large wood doors. “I have had my lover from the beginning. I have even had a child. He’s a man now, about your age. Twenty-one years.”
Meluscia’s mouth fell open. “How is that possible?”
“I feigned a grave sickness when the bump grew too large, then surrounded myself with a few trusted servants. One of my dearest servants has raised him as if he were her own.”
Meluscia stared at the tapestry behind the Regent, her heart a tumult of emotions. A secret lover? These were thoughts that had come to Meluscia in the darkest nights, while she lay in bed, restless. But he had spurned them in the daytime, when her reason returned.
“Thank you for your honesty,” said Meluscia. “I should go. I promise to keep safe your secret.”
“Thank you my dear,” said Adulyyn. “Before you leave, let me impart one last piece of advice for when you are Luminess. Power is corrupting. Be forewarned. And yet, though it is corrupting, know this: power is worth a little corruption. Without power, we are helpless to do good. If a little corruption is what it takes to maintain the power to do good, then a little bad plus a lot of good still equals your being on the right side of the equation. I see a strong leader in you. Pursue that which keeps you strong.”
Meluscia stood. “Thank you, Adulyyn. I will not forget your words. Your transparency is refreshing, even if all that you’ve said feels like an earthquake beneath my feet.”
“I’ll write to you soon,” said Adulyyn. “Look for my letter and expect good results.”
She took Adulyyn’s hand and squeezed it, then departed through the wooden doors. It would be a long, dark ride back to the Hold, but it would not be an idle trip. She had the letter to King Feaor to outline in her mind. But even more, after everything that Adulyyn had said, Meluscia’s thoughts were consumed with the Regent’s revelation.
…A secret lover?
ADULYYN
She watched Meluscia depart, her thoughts astir with memories of her younger days. The uncertainty she’d felt—the fears, the discovery. Adulyyn enjoyed the role of mentor. But even more, she anticipated the influence she would gain if Meluscia became Luminess. Adulyyn had patiently watched Meluscia from afar, and when the time was right, had entered into the young woman’s life.
Truly, she liked the girl. And by her estimation, she would make a fine Luminess.
“Hello, Adulyyn,” came a voice from behind her.
She shot up from her chair and spun around.
Standing behind her was a tall, well-built man, his hard but handsome features unforgettable.
Her pounding heart did not abet at the sight of him.
“Valcere,” she said, frightened by the implications of his presence. What had he heard? What were his intentions? Her thoughts turned to the knife hidden in her cloak, though she knew it would do her no good against him.
“I, too, want to sit and talk.” He walked around her and sat in Meluscia’s chair. A second figure moved out of the shadows toward the door, and then a third. Adulyyn glanced around the room, unsettled by the numbers of armed men she was trapped with inside the room.
“I’ll make this quick,” said Valcere, “seeing as your party will be expecting you to come out soon.” He folded his hands together and leaned toward her, his shadowed face flickering under the waning torchlight. “I offer you power under my rule as Luminar. Whatever you hoped to gain from Meluscia, I will meet it. If you wish to be made head of the Regents’ council next spring, I will make that happen. Whatever you wish, within reason. More rare gems, more roads, more of the spoils from the Verdlands we acquire during raids. And, hear this—when I am Luminar, if our army overruns the Verdlands and takes King Feaor’s castle, I promise you the highland farm region as your part of the Verdlands. More milk and butter have come from that region than any other, as well as an abundance of stone fruit varieties. Lastly, if you do exactly as I tell you, then I will keep your secret lover a…secret. It would be a pity if word spread. You would lose so much. To think of the careful work you’ve done over the years—all you’ve built up around you, that it should crash down around your feet.”
Adulyyn stared at the man’s shoes. It was all she could do not to look him in the eyes and show her disgust. He had her trapped.
“Someone’s coming!” said one of the men at the door.
Adulyyn watched in helpless fear. One of the men at the door was tall, with thick arms and sharp eyes. She knew not his name, but recognized him as one of Trigon’s ten riders. The other man had a scar across his head, and a partially severed ear.
Valcere moved into the shadows.
The door creaked open, and one of her guards entered the room—and not just any guard. She wanted to shout out, to warn him of the danger, but that might cause a worse result.
“Are you alright?” asked Keeal, her son.
Adulyyn’s heart leapt into her throat as a knife came against Keeal’s neck, held by the man with the scarred head.
“Do not harm him,” pleaded Adulyyn, trying not to sound too desperate. Too passi
onate. They couldn’t know how important this man was to her.
“Will you agree to my demands?” asked Valcere.
“Yes. I’ll agree.” She forced herself not to look at Keeal, lest her heart bleed through, onto her face.
“They are simple enough. Do everything you can to influence the Regents in my favor. I think you understand when I say, you do not want me to lose the throne. Our fates are somewhat aligned in that matter.
“Second, write Meluscia a letter, as you promised. Only, instead of giving her hope, crush her. Bring her to her knees. Do not disappoint me in this, Adulyyn.”
She nodded. “If you let me and my guard go unharmed. I will do all that you ask.”
Valcere smiled. “Good. I look forward to our alliance.”
Chapter Seventeen
MELUSCIA
Shaft light filtered down from the cold rock of her bedroom’s ceiling, but it was muted by the gray clouds outside. Meluscia’s fingers worked meticulously, penning each stroke of the quill upon the parchment with her finest calligraphy. Sharp curves, smooth ink lines, and occasional flourishes to give it a personal elegance.
When she was finished, she signed her name, Meluscia, daughter of Trigon, the Luminar.
A sense of fear accompanied what she had written, for it was tantamount to treason. But her people couldn’t go on living on rations and skirmishing with kingdoms who should be allies, not enemies. And her father, and Valcere, were bent on perpetuating the enmity. She was taking a risk sending this letter to King Feaor, for if her father ever found out, her bid for the throne would be ended in an instant.
But she had no other choice. She couldn’t sit by and rely on her father’s decision. He was fighting against her becoming Luminess. Adulyyn’s influence at the council might be enough to put her on the throne, but Meluscia was not taking chances. For the sake of the kingdom’s peace, she had to do something. And…for her own sake. She hadn’t studied and memorized the laws, histories and traditions of her people only to hand her ability to uphold them over to Valcere, a man caught in the same web of enmity with the Verdlands as her father. And she hadn’t fallen in love with the people in her kingdom only to have them needlessly die in war. Valcere did not love and cherish them as she did.
Carefully, she folded the letter. If all went as planned, it would be delivered to King Feaor within a matter of days. Feaor was not the dark-hearted figure her father claimed. For the past year, she’d been gathering information on the Verdlands’ king, and what she learned left her with a far different impression than the one her father offered.
King Feaor, though wary of the Hold, wanted peace. And though the Verdlands’ king shared her father’s stubborn trait, it was Feaor who had been the aggressor in seeking peace between the two kingdoms. And it was her father who refused to compromise.
Meluscia was certain her sources were trustworthy, and not likely to say only what she wanted to hear.
Mostly, her impression of King Feaor was gained with the aid of the Hold’s servants. The only exception to this was Rivdon.
Captain Rivdon was the oldest of her father’s ten riders and had served under her grandfather for eight years before her father took the throne. In Rivdon, Meluscia glimpsed an older mindset of the Hold, one not as entangled in turmoil with its neighbors. It also seemed to be a more chivalrous time, one where the daughter of the Luminar was shown great honor and respect. As a young girl, Meluscia remembered Rivdon bringing her back flowers from patrol. He’d dismount from his horse and kneel, then carefully place the stem in the tangles of her hair.
At sixteen, when Meluscia first made it known she wanted to succeed her father as Luminess, Rivdon had come to many of her training sessions with Sword Master Haruuz.
After one particularly frustrating session, he took her aside.
“A sword does not befit your hands. And it needn’t for you to become Luminess. Katlel tells me of your passionate studies in the Scriptorium and your heart for history. Your grandfather first served as an acolyte there, too. Do not think a sword can outmatch what you have beneath your beautiful red hair.” Gently, he placed his hand on her head. “No matter what others say, knowledge is far more powerful than blades and arrows.”
And throughout her next six years, as she studied the laws and traditions, he’d sought a private audience with her every now and again. Giving her insights into what was happening between the Hold and the Verdlands. Rivdon did not share the general consensus that King Feaor was the root of the problem. He had given her a different picture of the Verdlands’ king. A picture that came with a history that stretched back to when Rivdon had accompanied her grandfather on a number of diplomatic trips.
And Rivdon’s sentiments of King Feaor matched well with what Meluscia had gathered through the servants of the Hold.
It was what the servants had gathered that gave her the confidence to write the letter she was presently working on.
Whenever dignitaries or travelers from the Verdlands came to the Hold, Mairena had a very particular number of staff she would assign to them, and they knew how to keep quiet for Meluscia. It further proved to her how important it was to regard the trust of the servant class in the kingdom just as highly as the lords and dignitaries. And these servants, who were not unlike friends…they had very good ears. Were, in fact, quite good at lingering just outside cracked doors.
On two occasions, Meluscia herself had gone to the dignitaries and asked if she might share a meal with them. Being the daughter of the Luminar, her requests had been readily accepted, and she’d had a pleasant discussion with each of them. Meluscia found ways to turn the conversation upon the skirmishes between the Verdlands’ farmers and her kingdom’s woodsmen.
She knew better than to trust King Feaor’s dignitaries, but it wasn’t too difficult to read between the lines. And besides, the most reliable information came after she left. The dignitaries were always eager to discuss the matters she’d raised with their advisors…and the ears of the servants were just outside their door, or above, listening in the quiet of the night as the voices echoed up hewn rock shafts that gave light during the day.
One time, even she had heard directly:
“. . . He won’t stop the raids.”
“His daughter seems oblivious to the fact. Innocent and curious. She didn’t know a thing about what’s really happening. Only the gods know if she believed anything I said.”
“You were wasting your time with her. Even if she did believe every word you said, she couldn’t change that fool’s mind. No one can.”
“Trigon’s only posturing. I still believe there’s hope.”
“He’ll deny the raids until he dies with his secrets. Either that or…”
“Or what?”
“Or he’s got a darker agenda than the King realizes. Could the Luminar be in the clutches of the Beast? What if he is working with Praelothia?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just stubborn, like a deep-rooted weed that’s tough to pull up.”
“Perhaps someone’s feeding him lies.”
“Speculation is useless, Chanovas.”
“And so is hope. At the end of the day, nothing short of the Verdlands’ obeisance will satisfy Trigon. The bloodshed won’t be abetting any time soon. Not until the sunweed blight takes him to the grave. Then…then you can have your hope.”
Dozens of other conversations stirred in her mind as they were retold by a kitchen maid or serving boy. It was these conversations that she knew reflected reality. With the words her servants had overheard in the past year, a consistent impression of King Feaor came through: that he was willing to compromise. Her father and Feaor both felt wronged. Both were stubborn. But it was her father who would not be moved.
Meluscia felt hope stir in her as she read through her letter, her mouth whispering the words.
I send this letter in the hope that it will be the first step toward friendship between us; between the Blue Mountain Realm and the Verdlands.
&
nbsp; She promised the king respect from the throne if it were hers to have, and pledged to end the aggressive posture of the Hold’s army. But she gave him warning: if he did not put pressure on her father, Trigon would likely appoint Valcere as Luminar. Without parsing words, she told King Feaor that if he did not want a successor who was the image of her father, he should request a peace delegation led by herself.
Meluscia stared down at her last line, the ink still bleeding into the parchment. Promise my father whatever you must as long as it is me he sends, and I swear that if I am sent, we shall have peace between us, and our people.
A tense smile edged Meluscia’s lips. She placed a thimble of hot wax on the fold of the letter and sealed it.
Now, to have it delivered.
MELUSCIA
The smell of horses and hay always reminded her of Mica.
Most of the stables lay inside a massive cavern on the lower plateau of the Hold, but she usually found Mica working outside with the horses coming and going. Many riders came to the Hold to find audience with her father, and most kept their animals at the stables.
A heavy mist fell from the gray clouds that covered the upper plateau. It had been drizzling since last evening, and everything was thoroughly wet. Meluscia enjoyed the cool moisture on her face. It was far too easy to confine herself inside the mountain or the Scriptorium and miss the refreshment that the outside sounds and smells brought.
At the edge of the stables, she paused, taking hold of a wood beam. She peeked around the corner inside the large covered entrance. A handful of merchants and other riders were unpacking supplies, and a few stable hands were attending them. She went inside and walked up to the closest party. A servant spotted her. It was Augel, a blond-haired man close to thirty years.
“My Lady,” he said, stopping what he was doing to bow. The travelers he was helping did the same, whether they recognized her or not.
“Is Mica, the stable master, on duty today?” asked Meluscia.
“Yes, he’s in the feed rooms,” said Augel. “I can take you there now if you’d like?”