"As you say, my queen. I will strive to be more circumspect." This was why the summons? For a dressing down in front of Tanjia? Krystelle realized she was gripping her tea cup hard enough to put it in danger of breaking. Forcing herself to relax, she took a sip and grimaced.
"Bitter?" said Tanjia, a smug smile on her face. "Perhaps a bit of sugar and some milk would help it. I can get it for you if you like."
Krystelle forced herself to take another sip of the tea. "That will not be necessary."
Queen Camryn set her own cup on the table and turned toward the blond woman. "Tanjia, Naevean's Merchant Guild will catch wind of the raiders and want to understand what I plan to do about them. I would rather the Guild get hear of it from us than another source. Go to Harvian Tedosian in his home this evening and let slip what is happening, and that Linford is marshaling a response."
Harvian Tedosian was the informal head of the Merchant Guild in Naevean due to the simple fact that he owned the largest fleet in Cynneweald. A shrewd trader, he was well-respected amongst the merchant community. Krystelle also knew he had at least one son of marriageable age, although by reputation he was something of a scoundrel. Her mother had made no secret of her intent to make a closer alliance with the Tedosian’s and a desire to arrange a marriage between Krystelle and that oldest son. Krystelle groaned inwardly at her mother’s machinations.
"Yes, my queen. And what of the other matter? The delegation is staying in an inn not far from the palace."
"I will think on it," said the queen with a slight grimace. Krystelle wondered who they were talking about and resolved to find out. The queen did not look pleased at the prospect of meeting them, whoever they were. "Now please leave us Tanjia. I would speak to my daughter in private."
The pretty blond woman took one last sip of her tea and set it on the table between the women. Standing, she curtsied to the queen and left, closing the door behind her. Watching her go, the queen looked thoughtful. "That woman is getting to be a problem," she said.
"Then why do you keep her around?" Krystelle had said as much before.
"Better to keep a problem like Tanjia Loredonna close so it does not fester somewhere out of sight and become an infection raging out of control. I will not have this argument with you again, daughter."
There it was again. The queen had been more insistent at claiming that relationship of late and it pierced Krystelle to the heart hearing her use the word. "Daughter? You keep saying that word, but I do not believe you know what it means."
"I know what it means," snapped the queen. "And whether you like it or not, you are my daughter."
"You may have given birth to me, but you are NOT my mother."
"Krystelle," began the queen, reaching a hand out to her.
Krystelle pulled her own hand away. "Stop."
Settling her hand on her own knee and smoothing her skirts, the queen continued, "I am trying to make things right with you."
"Make things right? You left. I was just a little girl who needed her mother. How can you ever begin to make that right?" This was not where Krystelle had intended to go with this conversation. Fighting back a tear she set her cup and saucer down to prevent them from clattering together and revealing to the queen how much her hands shook.
"Krystelle, I wanted so much to take you with me. It simply was not possible. My cousin Ercanbald had become King, and I found myself labeled a potential rival for a throne I did not want. I had to distance myself from you and your father, and all of Gabirel. Being my daughter put a target on you and I could not have that."
"Did you know for years I thought you were dead? I told myself you must be dead. Why else would you abandon me...us? For the first year after you left, I spent the better part of every day on the battlements of the Dazhberg searching for you and hoping every time someone came to the gates you would be among them. I can remember the day I stopped looking for you. It was the first winter after you disappeared. I had wrapped myself in my furs and had swiped a cup of hot cocoa from the kitchens. It was so cold my nose and ears were like icicles and the wind tore through the furs like they were nothing. Father found me out there on the wall, shivering. I suppose one of the guardsmen must have told him where I was."
"Krystelle..."
"Let me finish. He came and wrapped me in his arms, picked me up and carried me down to our chambers. He got a fire going, wrapped me in my blankets, and spoon fed me a bowl of soup. He never said a word, just sat with me until I fell off to sleep, but I could see the pain and worry in his eyes. When I woke up, I swore to myself I would never do that to him again. We never spoke of it and that was the last time I waited for you. I had my father and making him proud became my whole world."
Before the queen could answer, the two women felt the ground beneath them ripple and heard a scream coming from the hallway outside. Rising to her feet, Krystelle gestured for the queen to retreat to her inner chambers and rushed to the door. Pausing she looked around for a weapon and grabbed the poker from the fire. It would have to do. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
Chapter Four
Poker in hand, Krystelle Mora burst into the hall outside the queen's chamber to find herself in a sea of chaos. A cacophony of voices from the portraits of royal families lining the hall assailed her ears. Shouting their confusion and anger at confinement inside wooden frames, the once royalty demanded to be set free. The portrait next to the door held the image of Queen Mother Duramond, whose son had been Jovan Androkles, the king whose actions had precipitated the uprising leading to the Dragon Wars.
Seeing Krystelle, Duramond shouted at the woman to release her. Krystelle blinked in surprise at the woman's language that would have made a sailor blush. She did not have long to pay attention to the shouts, as the rest of the furnishings in the hallway had likewise come to life. Tapestries flew through the hall while tables skittered about, crashing into walls and careening into each other.
A few doors down, a pot of flowers assaulted a chambermaid, vines growing up and out of the vase encircling arms and legs, making their way along her body to her head. She screamed at Krystelle to help her, but she had no idea what she could do for the woman. A clanking behind her caused Krystelle to turn to find a suit of armor trudging toward her, raised broadsword in its gauntleted fist.
This was an enemy she understood how to fight. Raising her poker, she deflected the broadsword as it came crashing down. Cursing her dress, Krystelle ducked behind the suit as it swung around to follow her. Even though the armor had a sword in hand, as slow as the armor was moving she had speed on her side, even in her skirts.
Bringing her poker down hard, she connected with the armor's right arm, causing the gauntlet to fall, carrying the sword with it. Pressing her momentary advantage, Krystelle crashed her poker down on the suit's shoulder. It staggered away, crashing into the wall. Krystelle smiled. A few more quick blows and this threat, at least, would be contained.
She started toward the armor, preparing to take its head off with the poker when one of the console tables crashed into her side, knocking the wind out of her. She stumbled to the side and lost hold of her poker from the blow. Her eyes fixed on the gauntlet laying there on the floor. It popped up on the tips of the fingers and crawled toward the sword laying nearby, making Krystelle's skin crawl.
The suit of armor had recovered and was lunging at her again. Krystelle threw herself at the poker, sliding across the marble floor. It slid into her hand and she rolled to her feet, facing the armor gamboling toward her. Barreling into her, the suit wrapped its arms around her body and squeezed. As the pressure built, Krystelle could hear her bones creaking and felt the air rushing from her lungs. Struggling, she tried to break free of its iron grip, to no avail. Pain built to a crescendo as consciousness slipped away.
It all stopped. The pain and pressure, along with the noise from the portraits. The only sound left was the chambermaid's screams echoing along the hall. The suit of armor crashed to the ground, lifeless
. Krystelle gulped in a ragged breath, filling her burning lungs. Her torso ached from the armor's steely embrace. She looked down the hall at the chambermaid who screamed one final time before racing away.
Too late, guardsmen rushed into the corridor swords drawn with Captain Alboin at their head. Skidding to a stop they surveyed the now silent corridor. It was a scene of madness, fragments of furniture and decor strewn about with tapestries torn and hanging throughout. "Where is the Queen?" Alboin shouted at Krystelle.
Ignoring him, she darted to the door of the queen's chamber, threw it open and dashed inside. She found the queen peeking out from behind the door leading to the inner rooms. Her mother was no warrior. "Are you all right?"
Camryn nodded and pulled the door open. "I am," she said walking into the room. "What happened out there?"
"I'd like to know that myself," said Alboin, barging into the room behind Krystelle. "The hallway looks like a battleground."
Krystelle opened her mouth to explain when Tanjia burst in behind Alboin. "What's going on? The palace is buzzing with wild tales of furniture coming to life and an assault on one of the chambermaids."
Krystelle groaned and the queen gestured toward the chairs. "Perhaps we should all sit while Krystelle tells us what happened," she said.
Once they were settled Krystelle looked around the room, wondering where to begin. Starting with the scream and grabbing the fireplace poker, she laid out the story, relating all that had happened in the hallway. "It was some kind of magical attack," she concluded.
"Attack?" said Alboin. "What makes you say that?"
"What else could it have been? I can see no other explanation. The wizards must have nearly rebuilt Cale Uriasz by now, we must send to them as soon as possible."
"Uriasz," said Tanjia, with a scowl. "How do we know they are not the ones responsible?"
Krystelle glared at him, "What reason would they possibly have to attack the palace? No, I cannot believe Uriasz was behind this attack."
"Who else then?" asked the queen. "Sterling Lex is gone."
"But his followers are merely scattered," countered Krystelle. "They are still out there."
"And did not Uriasz make promises to take care of those followers?" said Alboin.
"They did, and they will. They just need time."
"There are others that can help us, if will will but ask," interjected Tanjia.
Krystelle looked over at the woman, "What are you suggesting?"
"There is a delegation of Krenon in the city, here to lay a petition before the Queen. Perhaps they can help."
"Krenon!" Krystelle could not believe what she was hearing. "You would trust Krenon after everything?"
"I trust them more than I do Uriasz," said Tanjia.
"Enough!" the queen stopped them. "All of you out. I need to think."
Chapter Five
Slamming the door to her chamber, Krystelle fumed at the very suggestion of bringing the Krenon into the palace. They had been a thorn in the side of Cynneweald since before the Ban gave them a renewed sense of purpose. In the years since, they had become even more vile, blind to their own hypocrisy in their quest to root out any vestige of magic.
Even more, she fumed at the necessities of the political winds forcing her mother to distance the throne even further from Gabirel and Uriasz. The knights and wizards should have been the crown's greatest allies in securing her base of power, instead she kept them at arm’s length due to their implicit involvement in King Ercanbald's death.
It had been a Squire of Gabirel that had killed the King. True, he had not meant to do so. Through the power of the Soulstone, the King had fallen under the thrall of the dark wizard, Sterling Lex. Through the power of the remaining Eligium—the Sunstone, Moonstone, and Dragonstone— Sebastian Pwyll had defeated the wizard and, in doing so, also killed the King.
To make matters worse Sebastian fled, leaving Camryn Mora as the last remaining heir to the royal house.
No, that was wrong Krystelle realized. She was also an heir to the throne, much as she tried to forget that fact. It had never been a part of her existence nor was it a pathway she dreamed her life would travel down.
"Damn that Sebastian!" she said to her reflection as she settled down in front of the mirror to begin brushing out her auburn hair. If only he had not fled things could perhaps have been smoothed over with the Lords and Merchants. As things stood, the High Council had been forced to disavow Sebastian and Queen Camryn's very first act had been to declare him an outlaw. There had been no sign of him for months and, if he was smart, he would never return. As true as it was, that saddened her. She was fond of the young man and considered him to be a friend.
Shaking her head, Krystelle tried to put thoughts of Sebastian out of her mind. There was nothing more she could do for him, she had pressed the issue too hard with the Queen already. Turning her attention to the task at hand, she finished brushing out her hair and quickly tied it up into a tight braid. Every few weeks the Head Maid pressed her to take on another handmaiden, but that was not the life Krystelle knew or wanted. She could groom herself, thank you very much.
Glaring at her nightclothes, she gripped the comb like it was the sword she missed so very much. She was a sword-master not some flighty, brainless milksop! She slammed the brush down on her dressing table. Grabbing her reliable green woolen cloak in passing she stalked out the door into the dimly lit hall.
Flickering light from a wall sconce two doors away danced across Krystelle's face. Shrugging her shoulders back, she started walking with an air of purpose she did not feel. She just knew she did not want one of the night maids interrupting her, even if she was not sure herself where she was going.
So she walked. For the better part of an hour she roamed the palace halls. Up one corridor and down another. Past kitchens and storerooms. Along stairwells lined with murder holes. One hallway she avoided. The one with the Queen's chambers. She had no desire to encounter her mother again this night. There was an unusual amount of activity in the halls this night, making her desire for solitude difficult to satisfy.
Eventually she found herself in the throne room. A single torch hung from the wall next to the door and it looked to have been refreshed recently. She could stay here a while with no chance of interruption. Walking down the long wool runner covering the center of the room she considered the throne as she approached.
Looming in the dark, it seemed larger and more foreboding than in the daylight. The red glow of torchlight danced across the throne's lacquered and worn surface, giving it an otherworldly hue. She had found herself here many nights since arriving in Naevean, drawn to this chair that, to her, represented an inescapable prison.
Tearing her eyes away from the throne, she turned to the stone pedestal situated to the right. A purple silk covered the harsh stone and, on it, a sword. It was an unassuming blade, out of place amongst the finery of the throne room. Its blade chipped and scratched from use, the red wrappings on the hilt faded with age.
It was Gabirel's Sword. The sword of Kings, and now a Queen.
Krystelle had held it once many years before. Even fought with it. Legend says that it imbued the bearer with strength and courage. Gabirel himself had given the sword to the first King of Cynneweald. Krystelle's fingers itched to feel the sword in her hand once more. She could pick it up, no one would know. It would be hers someday anyway, although ruler-ship was a high price to pay for a sword.
Reaching out her hand to run it along the blade she started at the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming. Not wanting to discuss her own presence, she retreated into an alcove behind the throne. Most likely it was a maid and soldier playing at king and queen. They would be gone soon and she could go on with her reverie.
The murmuring steps grew closer. There was something familiar about their cadence. Peeking out, the woman's blond hair confirmed her suspicion. It was Tanjia Loredonna. Krystelle wondered what she was doing in the throne room. And with a lover on the way! Luck. Pe
rhaps this would give Krystelle the ammunition she needed to rid the court of the woman.
Moments later another figure entered the chamber and Krystelle turned her attention to Tanjia's companion, straining to see his face beneath the hood he wore drawn over his face. She needed to identify the man. She willed him to lower his hood. A moment later he complied and Krystelle blinked twice, not believing what she was seeing.
Tanjia's lover was a Krenon?
"Now," said Tanjia. "What was so important that we risk discovery when we are so close?"
"There are rumors," the Krenon's scratchy voice grated on Krystelle's ears. "Rumors of vile magic inside the walls of the keep this very night. The Brothers grow nervous. They fear betrayal."
Tanjia laughed, "Is that all? Tell them the rumors are true. Something happened this night, although what it was I cannot say. As for betrayal...I have too much at stake. Perhaps I should question your fidelity to our cause."
"Nay, mistress. We will fulfill our part of the bargain."
What bargain? Krystelle strained to hear more. This was no lovers tryst.
"And the timing?" said Tanjia.
"As agreed, all is in readiness."
The woman nodded, "Good. And after?"
"The throne will be yours."
Krystelle froze. Tanjia was plotting treason with the Krenon. She had to tell someone. But who would believe her? Her animosity toward the woman was well-known. She needed proof.
For a moment she considered rushing out to confront the conspirators. Only the thought of the arcane powers the Krenon Brothers wielded stopped her. She was likely to end up dead or with no memory of what had transpired. She schooled herself to stillness and watched helplessly as the two made their way out of the chamber.
Huddled in her alcove, Krystelle waited a full quarter of an hour before moving to be sure they were truly gone. All the while, her mind raced. What to do and who to trust? Her mother would dismiss these accusations out of hand and she found herself wishing her father were here. She could use his advice. Unable to stand it any longer, she emerged from her hiding place and hurried towards the servant's wing, Gabirel's Sword forgotten.
Heartstone (Eligium Series Book 5) Page 2