A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  “I only wish to help, my Prince,” Abel added quickly. “If I can.”

  “He treats with old men and thinks of finer days. His proposed war with the Fakir has brought them out of their warm beds, and stirred talk of old times.”

  “And the subject of…of your former advisor?” Abel asked in a careful voice.

  Malcolm sighed a bit. “They approve of my search for justice.”

  “Is your sister really dead?” Mason asked in a blunt manner.

  Malcolm laughed in surprise but he recovered quickly. “Marteen’s shot was off a bit, but I saw the wound, straight through the chest. And if she had lived, she would not have run.”

  “Retreat would’ve been advised,” Mason countered.

  Malcolm’s brow went up a bit. “Retreat?” He considered the idea for a brief moment. “No, that was never my sister’s way.” He took a drink of wine. “She is dead—you needn’t worry.”

  “Her Bastards are a loose end we cannot afford.”

  “I realize that fact, thank you, Mason,” Malcolm said, and his tone was somewhat sharp. He watched as Mason bowed his head and took a small step back. “And the return of Princess Jessa is paramount to my plans.”

  “I beg your pardon, my Prince.”

  “I think what Mason is trying to say is that they have gone to ground, and they have stayed there for quite some time,” Abel said in a diplomatic tone. He was smarter than his brother and Malcolm was glad of it. Reining in such a beast as Mason was best left to the man he had deferred to his whole life. Malcolm made note of his tone and altered his temper a bit. “They are bastards and drunkards,” Abel continued. “And though they are tested in battle, and respected for their skills, they are without their leader now. Mistakes will be made, and soon, if I do not miss my guess. We must be ready to take advantage of that and wipe them out when they step into the sun.” He went as if to take a sip of wine, and then paused. “Would they have retreated to your sister’s lands?”

  Malcolm downed his drink and set the goblet on the table beside his chair. He pushed to his feet in order to accommodate his annoyance. “Darrius held only wild lands, sprawling, useless tracts that served no purpose. These places have been seen to by Melora’s men.” He walked to the fire and set a hand upon the mantel as he looked into the flames. He could hunt the whole of the Green Hills now, if he so desired. “The Princess would not do well in such wilds.”

  “Might they return to her people?”

  “The people of the Ibarris Plains?” Malcolm asked as he turned and met Abel’s gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps,” Malcolm replied. “But the Singewood Rangers were alerted within a week of the incident. They have reported no such travelers. All have been stopped and searched. They have doubled their patrols, and their numbers have been bolstered by Melora’s men.”

  Mason made a grunting noise. “The Kenton Brigades?”

  “Yes.”

  “Brigands to a man, but good soldiers, as long as her gold doesn’t run out.”

  “It won’t.” Malcolm smiled. “They bring it to her from the southern Taurus Mountains in large wagons and pile it on her back steps. Lovely bricks with her family’s crest pressed right on top for all the world to see.”

  For the first time Malcolm saw a hint of humor in Mason’s eyes. “Then I’m glad she is on our side.”

  “Then you were absolutely wise in having the Greeves lands under your watch. It is the best place to be looking,” Abel replied. “If your sister’s lands are uninhabitable, and their route to the Plains has been watched since the start of this, they really have nowhere else to be and still live in relative comfort. And you are right, of course, that the Princess was not made for the wilds. She has powers, it’s true, but living in the woods for months on end is not one of them.”

  Malcolm chuckled at that. “Let us not speak of such indelicate matters where my future bride is concerned, if you please.”

  “Of course…And your family’s lands, my Prince?”

  “They are not there, and they continue to be watched.” Malcolm’s annoyance began to grow. Marteen would never need every little detail spelled out and explained to him. Marteen had always known what he wanted.

  “What about your sister’s man? Lord Greyson?” Mason inquired.

  Malcolm moved slowly from his thoughts. “They are not married, as of yet, and I will put a stop to that as soon as I am able. He is but a third son with little to offer other than his sword and a few minor holdings. The Prince of Senegal has been waiting for a proper bride for years, now. My sister is more than capable of handling a man such as he is and funneling his vast wealth back into Arravan. I am told he is not the wisest heir the Bird of Paradise Throne has ever seen.”

  “Should we extend the search to include the Greyson holdings?” Abel inquired. “Princess Emmalyn’s love for Darrius was a known fact, and she took quite a liking to the Lyoness Princess.”

  “They were sisters, Abel, it was to be expected.”

  “Yes, sisters are like that,” Mason said in his deep voice, and for a moment he looked as if he pondered the bonds between women.

  Malcolm smiled a bit and returned his gaze to the fire, only to have his heart tighten in his chest. He closed his eyes. “Hell and hounds,” he whispered. “Evan.”

  Chapter Twelve

  At the soft knock upon the door, Emmalyn set her wine down and picked up the dagger that sat beside it. It fit her hand perfectly, and it had been made to do just that.

  Upon the bed across the chamber, the wolfhound lifted her head from the quilt and growled. She was terribly small for a hound of her breed, and her fur was soft and light despite its wiry length. Her coloring was a beautiful brownish red that spoke of a broken bloodline, though the kennel master had been adamant it was not the case. She was the pup that had been meant for Jessa, once upon a spring day, but Emmalyn had gladly claimed her. Her glorious brown eyes were filled with emotion at any given moment, and she was perhaps the most loving dog Emmalyn had yet known. She was a superior guard, as well, and after the Sahwello had attacked, her presence had soothed Emmalyn’s sleep as not even Royce could.

  “Who is it, Red?” she asked in a whisper.

  Emmalyn stood and looked down at the map of Arravan that was spread open across the table. It had been made by a Master Scribe at her private request, and it was the most complete mapping of the land that she had ever seen. It included major land holdings with counts of men-at-arms, Kingsmen, estimates of population, available resources that might be called upon when needed, sites that the Arravan army had used during past conflicts, and even the river currents that were known and that might affect military strategy. It was a work of art, and at the moment it was her most prized possession.

  It was a map made for war, and it was sprawled across the table in the hidden alcove room behind the stacks of the Queen’s Library, along with two dozen leaves of parchment covered with notes in her own hand.

  Emmalyn looked to the bed once more and Red had laid her head upon her front paws, seemingly content. The knock came a second time.

  Emmalyn wore a pair of soft trousers and a homespun black shirt that hung past her hips. Her red hair was tied behind her neck, and her curls fell to the small of her back as she walked in her bare feet to the door. She set her hand upon the latch. “Who is there?”

  “It’s Nina,” came her cousin’s voice, and Emmalyn pulled the bolt back and opened the door. “I know I’m late, Emma, I’m sorry.”

  Emmalyn reached out with her free hand and pulled her cousin inside. She gave her a half hug about the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Hello, love,” she greeted and closed the door. She slid the heavy bolt home in a quiet manner.

  Nina was dressed much the same as Emmalyn was, though she wore a light coat that fell to the back of her knees. She held out the folded piece of parchment. “Captain Sol sends word.”

  Emmalyn took the note. “Keep me company.”

  Nina wal
ked beside her back to the table, and Emmalyn set the dagger down in order to open the note. “Wyatt and several officers of the Seventh have accompanied Malcolm to Madame Dubassant’s. Mason Jefs has made a visit to his officers and there’s movement in their camp. Half a platoon, maybe more, is gearing up for travel. Kingston says that Mason and Abel are to join Malcolm at Madame Dubassant’s at a later hour.”

  Nina poured herself a glass of wine. “Mason Jefs, the Solstice Champion.”

  Emmalyn set the note down. “Yes, and he commands five hundred men who would die for him if he but nods his head.” Emmalyn picked up her wine once more and surveyed her map. “And beyond that, a regiment of men from their family lands are camped just north of Los Capos.”

  “An additional three thousand men,” Nina added. “Eighty men in a platoon?”

  “Give or take, yes,” Emmalyn replied. “Malcolm has had himself an idea, and he’s sending his own personal army instead of Melora’s hired thugs.”

  “And this will be the first that Mason Jefs has gone to Madame Dubassant’s.”

  “He wishes to drink with Wyatt, the king’s chosen champion,” Emmalyn mused. “It is said that Mason Jefs prays to Gamar, he fights, he hunts, and not much else.”

  “What does that mean for us, exactly?”

  “It means that my little brother best be on his toes and not in his cups,” Emmalyn answered and picked up her dagger as she leaned over the table. She tapped the map just east of the Gonnard Forest with the tip of her blade. “If they skirt the Green Hills here, then they’re going north along the Raven’s Run, which means Marban, Ballentrae, and the Lanark.”

  “Which means he’s remembered Evan’s lands are yours.”

  Emmalyn met her cousin’s gaze as she thought of her first husband, and the lands she had inherited upon his death. That she had gifted those lands to Darry and Jessa had been a brilliant play, but it had always been destined to fail. Someone always remembered, in the end, exactly what you wished they would forget.

  Emmalyn had confided in Nina in the days after the Sahwello had attacked, and it was Nina who came to her the night of Malcolm’s treachery with the truth of what had happened. That Bentley and Nina had forged a bond did not surprise her in the least. Nina was her blood, but they had become true boon companions, much like Darry and Wyatt had always been. It had been an unexpected gift to Emmalyn, and it was one that she cherished each and every day since her world had fallen apart. It was Nina who provided the rookery and delivered her messages, the ravens at her disposal second to none thanks to a distant Lewellyn cousin that even Emmalyn had not known about. “Darry and Jessa must be warned.”

  “And if they go west?”

  Emmalyn studied the map again. “I don’t think they’re going west. I think something was said and he remembered,” Emmalyn set her dagger down. “He would sooner die than have Melora know of his oversight. They are great allies at the moment, but should Melora’s men extract some damning piece of information if prisoners are taken, his house of lies will come crashing down. A small consolation, I suppose, but it took him far longer than I thought it would.”

  “How long will it take them to reach Ballentrae?”

  Emmalyn studied her cousin then, noting that she had lost a bit of weight and her hair was a few inches longer than it had been. It was still short, though, and it suited her. “The Raven’s Run flows south, so the river won’t help them. A ride like that, depending on how urgent they think it may be, a fortnight and half a week. If they ride hard, we can shave a few days from that. Kingston’s man will send word as to their pace. We’ll have a better idea in a few days.”

  “All right then. I’ll ride for Gracelin with your message as soon as we hear from Kingston’s man.” Nina flashed an unexpected smile. “Tobin is making a fine profit this year.”

  “Lady Nina Lewellyn,” Emmalyn said quietly. Nina had changed greatly in some ways, during the past few months, and those changes had chipped away at the wild girl she had been. The woman in her place was steadfast, loyal, and dangerously fierce. “The rightful Lady of Seven Spears and the Ring of Stone Towers. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  Nina held her eyes for a moment longer and then looked down. She gave a casual shrug of her shoulder. “I don’t—”

  There was a soft knock upon the door and Emmalyn turned before Nina could finish. She glanced at the bed and Red had not moved, nor did she growl, though her eyes were upon the door.

  “Emma…”

  Emmalyn walked quickly to the door, threw the bolt, and pulled.

  Jacob tossed back the hood of his black cloak and swept into the room. “I bring good news,” he declared as Emmalyn closed and bolted the door yet again. “We have our spy. A maid within Melora’s household staff.”

  Emmalyn’s eyes narrowed somewhat. “A woman?”

  “Yes,” Jacob answered. “Her name is Eleni.”

  She hadn’t thought that Jacob would recruit a woman, but she should have, and she scolded herself for the lapse. “How vulnerable is she?”

  Jacob frowned and his shoulders stiffened somewhat at the question. “Now is not the time to become squeamish, Sister.”

  Emmalyn stood tall as she took a step forward. “Squeamish?”

  Jacob’s right eye gave a twitch. “That was the wrong word, I’m sorry, but our options are limited here. Melora runs her household as she would a small army. Someone always answers to someone else, all the way up the line.”

  “And so where does this Eleni fall within the chain of command?”

  “She’s an outlier, hired on as a cook at first. She was demoted to a maid’s position within a month or so and has been there since.” His expression changed when hers did. “There is danger in this thing by its very nature, Emmalyn. Do not argue with me, please.”

  “This is just the business of spies, is that it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And so we would replace something bitter and careless with more of the same?” She challenged him. “Things must change with all decisions, Jacob, or none of this will matter.”

  Jacob considered her words. “You’re right, I see that, Emma…But this particular game has long been established, and there’s not much to be done about it, at least not at this point. You have an enemy and you have a spy. If your cause is good, then your enemy is not. There is great risk involved with such an endeavor, for the high ground is only in the cause, not where you must stand and fight. She’s vulnerable, yes, but so are we all.”

  Emmalyn saw something more in his demeanor. Something he did not wish to tell her. “And what else, Jacob? I shall find out anyway, and you know it.”

  Jacob sighed. “It’s not only that she will seek to betray Melora if the opportunity presents itself… She is Romynus.”

  Emmalyn was truly startled by his words. “In Melora’s house?”

  “I doubt if Melora even knows her name, much less her lineage. She has a way out, Emma, I’ve made sure of that. She has several, actually. She is aware of them, and she needs but call on them. I’ll not have what happened to Almahdi happen again. You must trust me on that.”

  Emmalyn held his eyes while she made her decision. “If she is Romynus, then she will not ask for help. We must find another spy, or do without one. A woman in Melora’s house is most likely in danger just for showing up.” Emmalyn frowned. “And I can tell you now that she was demoted from cook to maid because of her blood. Melora would no more allow a Romyn woman to prepare her food than she would let me do it. And if she is found out, a Romyn woman? She would be strung up in an alley before we might get to her.”

  Jacob’s eyes flared with frustration. “There is no one else to be found on such short notice. Please, let us discuss this at another time. Let us see what she might find.”

  “Discuss what, Jacob? That we have placed an already vulnerable women in an even more precarious position? A position that might get her killed?”

  “We could all be killed, Lady Emmalyn,” J
acob said in a fiercely pointed voice. “What we are engaged in is not merely a sibling squabble, nor is it a game of Kings and Jackals while having tea in the afternoon sun. We have not just discussed treason, we are actively involved in overthrowing the succession to the throne of Arravan!” He took a step toward her, just as she had done. “If you truly think this will be a bloodless coup of Malcolm’s power, you are sorely mistaken, and I shall have to think that I’ve made a grave mistake in placing my faith in this.”

  Emmalyn studied his mien and saw to the heart of it. A lifetime of reading his expressions and tone was proving to be an advantage while navigating unknown waters. “I know that you’re scared, Jacob,” she said with care. “We are all scared,” she admitted. “I understand full well that compromises will have to be made. But blood has been spilled already, I’ve not forgotten. I’ve not forgotten the pool of blood that could not be explained upon the throne room floor, a distance and a bit from the black pool that belonged to Marteen Salish. That blood was our sister’s, and it was our own brother who sought to murder her. I understand the full depth of what we are doing, make no mistake.”

  Jacob’s shoulders eased a bit as he listened to her, Nina standing in silence behind him.

  “But if the high ground is in our cause, then so must it be in our actions, as well,” Emmalyn continued. “Malcolm believes in his objective, and he has let nothing sway him from his path. He has committed murder, and attempted the same. How many times has this happened already? I don’t know…But a king is dead by his command, bartered for with the lives of children we had sworn to protect. A country is now at war. By that logic, each death that follows may be laid at Malcolm’s feet, including how many thousands of Arravan soldiers when we ride to war?” Emmalyn’s chest tightened as she spoke. “Those lives are merely pieces on a board to Malcolm. But they are not to me.

  “They are husbands and sons, and sweethearts that have yet to know the spirit of their chosen loves. Would-be lovers that have yet to wake in the morning sun with the sweetest of smiles that only passion may bestow. And Darrius, who lay betrayed at the very foot of her father’s throne, seeing all that she held dear stolen away, with her lover just beyond reach as the warmth left her body. I see this every day, Jacob, and I think, how could we have been so reckless?”