Shadow and DeVilliers were staring at her, too, and Destin could tell from their rapt expressions that he’d guessed right.
“Karn,” Matelon said with a curt nod.
“Your Majesty,” Destin said, bowing. “You’ve become extraordinarily flexible and nimble for a Matelon. Still, I never expected to see you fighting for the empress.”
“I am not fighting for the empress,” Matelon said. “I’m fighting for her.” He nodded at his companion.
Destin looked from one to the other. “Such strange bedfellows,” he said, which seemed to strike a nerve.
“So you’re the notorious Lieutenant Karn,” the commander said, in an unmistakable northern accent.
“I am.” Destin fell to one knee. “Queen Alyssa, I presume?”
Everybody flinched.
“Get up,” the wolf queen said, pushing back the cowl to reveal her braided hair, bronze skin, and a wide, good-humored mouth. “You do realize I’ll have to kill you now.”
“Maybe not,” Destin said, “when you find out how useful I can be.”
“Why should I trust you?” Alyssa said.
“Because we have a common enemy.”
“Who? Jarat?” the queen said with an expression of contempt.
“No. Celestine.”
She studied him, head tilted, brow furrowed. “How is she your enemy? I mean, aside from the fact that she’s the enemy of everyone in the Realms, whether they know it or not?”
“It’s a long story,” Destin said, “but I intend to fight Celestine until the last breath leaves my body.” He nodded toward Shadow and DeVilliers. “They can confirm parts of what I’ve said.”
“Hmm,” Alyssa said skeptically. “I suppose I’ll have to hear you out, then. But first, I need a moment.” Turning her attention to his companions, she embraced them. “I am so damned glad to see you two again,” she said, her voice catching. All at once, it was as if a dam broke. Tears were running down everyone’s faces.
Destin and Matelon stood around, like spouses at the army reunion.
“Let’s sit,” Alyssa said, finally, pointing to a scattering of cushions on the cave floor. Destin sat, trying to imagine sitting in a circle on a stone floor with Gerard Montaigne.
“Now,” she said to Destin, “convince me that the benefit of taking you on is greater than the risk. What do you have to offer?”
“I offer the gift of information,” he said. “I can tell you who murdered your father, who betrayed your sister and your brother, and attacked you in Southbridge. Also who poisoned your mother and betrayed your friend Finn.”
“Is that all?” DeVilliers muttered.
Alyssa leaned toward Destin, her hands on her knees, and Destin saw the wolf in the queen’s face. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight, and he tasted metal on his tongue.
“If you were involved in those things, Lieutenant, you are digging your own grave,” she said softly.
“I was not involved in those particular things,” Destin said quickly.
“That’s convenient,” Alyssa said.
“Convenient and true. Gerard and Jarat worked directly with traitors in the north to see those things done. It wasn’t until recently that I learned the truth.”
“Which is? Briefly, please.”
“Harriman Vega and your aunt Mellony were the major players.”
She didn’t blink. “I’ve always suspected Vega, but . . .” She trailed off, thinking. “Not Julianna?”
Destin shook his head.
“And you know this how?”
“I’ve asked her. Using persuasion, not torture,” he said.
Alyssa considered this. “Even if I believed you, Karn, what’s done cannot be undone. So this knowledge is of limited use to me now.”
“Let’s move beyond history, then, and focus on the future,” Destin said. “Mellony has succeeded in putting a crown on Julianna’s head, but she doesn’t want it. Mellony intends to marry her to Jarat tomorrow. Julianna doesn’t want that, either.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes. Julianna, Lila Byrne, Speaker Jemson, and I have taken steps to prevent it from happening, but we could use your help. I can give you Jarat, and I can give you your city back. More importantly, I can help you drive the empress out of the Realms.”
“Jemson!” the queen blurted. “He’s mixed up with you?” The disdain in her voice was unmistakable.
“Lyss,” DeVilliers said. “Karn is worth listening to.”
Destin met the commander’s eyes. Thank you.
The queen digested this. “Go on,” she said to Destin.
Destin reached inside his coat, and both DeJardin and Matelon gripped his arms. He hadn’t realized they’d moved in so close.
“Here,” he said. “It’s in my inside pocket. A small bottle. You fetch it, if you like.”
DeJardin reached in and pulled out the bottle Destin had been saving since Evan had given it to him months ago. The mage looked it over, rocked it so that it sloshed, and held it up for Alyssa’s inspection.
She wrinkled her nose. “It looks like blood,” she said.
“It is. Your army is bloodsworn to the empress. That means that they will fight for you as long as they believe that they are serving her. If she finds out she’s been betrayed, you’re at high risk of being slaughtered.”
Alyssa and Matelon looked at each other.
“We know that,” Alyssa said. “But our free army is only five hundred strong. We need to work with what we have.”
“Celestine is a blood mage,” Destin said.
“Is that her blood?”
“No,” Destin said. “It—it’s Evan Strangward’s.”
“The pirate?” Queen Alyssa cocked her head.
“He was a blood mage, too,” DeVilliers said. “His crews were bloodsworn.”
“Stormborn,” Destin said. “The empress hunted him up and down the Desert Coast for years. Evan had an ethical problem with creating new blood slaves, but he found that he could bind Celestine’s bloodsworn with his blood. So they become what he calls ‘stormborn.’”
“So his crews—the ones with purple auras—they’re Celestine’s bloodsworn . . . repurposed?” DeVilliers said.
Destin nodded.
“It sounds like you knew this Evan Strangward quite well,” the Gray Wolf queen said, eyeing him thoughtfully.
“Yes,” Destin said. “We were friends back in Tarvos.” He paused, afraid he’d revealed too much.
“So,” Matelon said, “what are you doing with a bottle of Strangward’s blood?” The newly anointed king pointed at the bottle.
“He gave it to me when he came to Ardenscourt. He hoped I could use it somehow if the empress invaded the wetlands.”
“Are you suggesting that we bind Celestine’s bloodsworn to Strangward?” Queen Alyssa said.
Destin shook his head. “No. I’m proposing that they be bound to you.” Seeing no in her face, he rushed on. “I suggest we mix a little of your blood with Ev—with Strangward’s. Then we mix it in their water or their ale, or whatever it is they drink.” Seeing the queen’s revolted expression, he hurried on. “I don’t know exactly what will happen, but I’m hoping Strangward’s blood will loosen the bond and maybe they’ll align with you, or at least be freed of the empress. Though I don’t know how it will work since—now that—he’s gone.” Saying it out loud made Destin realize how unlikely this plan sounded.
“Hang on,” Alyssa said. “I must have missed something. This pirate—Strangward—he’s dead?”
DeVilliers cleared her throat. “Strangward came with us to try to free you from the empress,” she said, “but he and Sasha and Ash were lost when my ship went down.”
Queen Alyssa flinched, as if she’d been struck. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Cap—Your Majesty,” DeVilliers said, staring down at her boots. “It seems like I am always bringing bad news.”
Alyssa sat motionless, her hands on her knees, her face bleak.
Matelon reached for her, drew his hand back, then finally rested it on her shoulder.
The queen cleared her throat. “Are you sure they are dead? The empress claimed that she’d found my brother in Tarvos. She had his amulet for proof.” Reaching into her neckline, she pulled out a distinctively carved snake pendant. “Was Ash wearing this aboard Sea Wolf?”
DeVilliers stared at it, then nodded.
“How would Celestine have this if they went down with Sea Wolf?”
“I—I don’t know, unless his body washed up on the shore. . . .”
“In which case, how would they have identified him?” Alyssa said. “I assume you weren’t wearing Gray Wolf regalia.”
“No, ma’am,” DeVilliers said.
The queen bit her lower lip, as if thinking. “Celestine claimed that Ash had come to Tarvos looking for me and wanted to strike a deal.”
“You didn’t see him before you left?” Shadow said.
Alyssa shook her head. “She said she’d sent someone to fetch him back to Celesgarde. We sailed right after she told me that.”
Hope welled up in Destin—he couldn’t fight it down. If the northern prince had survived and made it to shore, was it possible that Evan had, too?
“Did Celestine mention anyone else?” he said, trying to hide his eagerness.
“No. Just Ash.” She frowned. “Though it’s odd. I keep seeing Sasha in my dreams, telling me that she’s alive, telling me that she’s coming for me.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what to make of that.”
“Sasha is your bound captain now, Your Majesty,” DeVilliers said. “I stood in for you at the binding ceremony since . . . since you couldn’t be there. Jemson had some blood of the Line on hand.”
“So—you’re saying that Sasha is bound to me? And that might explain the dreams?”
They were all looking at each other as if this were an important clue.
But something else DeVilliers had said caught his attention.
“What’s all this about a ‘binding ceremony’?” Destin said. Nobody would meet his eyes. Obviously, this was a secret that they didn’t want to share.
“Look,” Destin said, “at this point, we’re going to live, or die, together. You may as well trust me. I swear on my mother’s grave that I won’t betray you.”
The queen’s brown eyes met his own. “Fair enough, Karn, but if we’re not convinced of that before we’re done here, you’re a dead man.”
Destin nodded his assent to what he already knew.
The queen held his gaze for a long moment, then said, “The blood of the Line is used to bind the captain of the Queen’s Guard so that he has to act in the interest of the Line, no matter what,” Alyssa said.
“How are they bound? What do you do with the blood?”
“The captain drinks it, mixed with water from the Dyrnnewater.” She wrinkled her nose. “So, I guess, though I’ve never considered myself any kind of mage, in that way, I guess I am.”
“Does this binding diminish intelligence, decision-making, any of that?” Destin asked.
“No!” the queen said, looking horrified. “I would never do that. Nor would I want a captain who was . . . diminished.”
“There’s the difference between you and Celestine,” Destin said, feeling a spark of hope. “So—leave Strangward’s blood out of it. Use the blood of your Line to bind the bloodsworn. If it doesn’t work, no harm done.”
“No,” Alyssa said flatly. “I don’t like it.”
Funny how people can shed blood all day long, but draw the line when it comes to drinking it, Destin thought. Including me.
“You’re using them now, aren’t you?” Destin persisted. “Are they here of their own free will?”
“No,” she admitted.
“And you’re tricking them, because they think they’re fighting for the empress, when they’re really not.”
“I am,” she said, scowling, as if she knew she was losing this argument.
“Many of the bloodsworn are from the Realms,” Destin persisted. “Wouldn’t they be better off under your command? Whom do you think they would rather serve?” He paused again. She said nothing, and kept scowling. “You mean to tell me that you’re willing to risk the outcome of this war, the lives of your free soldiers, and the citizens of the Fells because you’re squeamish?” He watched the queen wrestle with this, thinking, A ruler with principles? How inconvenient.
“Your Majesty,” Matelon said, “maybe we—”
“Celestine doesn’t care about them,” the queen said miserably. “She spends them like their lives are worthless. She . . . she holds these despicable tournaments for entertainment. . . .”
When a person is talking herself into something, Destin knew enough to keep quiet. So he did.
“All right,” Queen Alyssa said, rubbing her forehead wearily. “We’ll try it.”
“Can you do it tonight?” Destin said, pressing his luck. “Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
62
DEAD WEDDING
Lila Byrne found herself attending Julianna’s second wedding within a month. Though it was larger than her first wedding, Lila, Shadow, and DeVilliers were among the few repeat guests. Many who’d attended the first wedding were dead, or related to the dead groom. Most of Jarat’s relatives were dead, too, many murdered by his father. His mother and sister were hiding out in Hunter’s Camp to the east, but hopefully he didn’t know that.
Since the wedding guests had to be chosen from among those who’d taken refuge inside the city, the guest list was less upscale than might have been expected for a royal wedding. The queen regent dug up a few cousins to attend the bride. Jarat enlisted some of his foul young thanelings.
Collared wizards lined the sanctuary—pretty much all of the wizards still left in the city, along with those that had come up with the Ardenine army.
Lila spotted Destin in the gallery, walking the perimeter, watching and waiting.
DeVilliers was subdued, and Shadow was somber, dressed in a coat embroidered with a subtle design of aspen trees and fellscats. Aspens for his fiancée, fellscats for his mother.
“Should you really be wearing your funeral coat?” Lila murmured.
“These flatlanders have no idea what kind of a coat it is,” Shadow said. “But Owl will know.”
Apparently, Owl was Julianna’s upland name.
The groom waited at the front of the Cathedral Temple with Father Fosnaught. That’s appropriate, Lila thought, that the swiving principia of the swiving Church of Malthus should preside over this mess. The mother of the bride took her place at the front of the church, positively glowing in champagne-colored satin.
A string quartet played music from all over the Seven Realms, in recognition of their joining. Thunder rumbled, far to the north, unusual this early in the season. The air was thick, portending trouble. The wind picked up, and the candles guttered, the light flickering on the walls, sending shadows prowling like wolves along the— Stop it! Lila thought.
Trumpets sounded a fanfare, and the bride appeared at the front of the nave, carrying a cascade of maiden’s kiss, lilies, bloodberry, and rowan, a circlet of rowan and bloodberry on her head. Odd choices for a bride. Appropriate for a blood sacrifice.
As she walked up the aisle, thunder crashed again, and the wind rose, swirling around Julianna, ripping petals from the flowers she carried, teasing her hair free from its binding.
A murmur ran through the crowd. Hanalea breathes. The quartet played louder.
Jarat gestured impatiently to the blackbirds, and they struggled to close and latch the shutters, but the shutters ripped free and kited away.
Now the howling began. It seemed to come from both inside and outside the temple, inside and outside of Lila’s head. Lila hunched her shoulders, shuddering against the sound.
Shadow put an arm around her. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“Make it stop,” Lila moaned.
“When Hanalea speaks, we must listen,
” he said, stroking her hair.
She wanted to burrow her face into Shadow’s shoulder, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Julianna.
The bride walked forward slowly, deliberately, chin up. By now, the din of wind, thunder, and howling was deafening. Julianna had nearly reached the altar when she staggered, and the crowd sucked in a breath. She dropped to her knees.
“Julianna?” Mellony said, practically shouting to be heard over the noise. “What’s wrong?”
Still on her knees, the bride lifted her arms, palms up, her face bathed in torchlight. “For Hanalea the warrior!” she cried. She slumped forward onto her face and lay still, what was left of her bouquet scattered on the stone floor.
With that, the storm died.
“What the bloody hell?” Jarat said into the sudden silence.
Clutching her skirts in her hands to keep from tripping, Mellony raced back down the aisle and knelt beside her daughter, slapping her cheeks, picking up a limp wrist to feel for a pulse. Sitting back on her heels, she wailed, “She’s dead!”
“No,” Jarat said, descending from the altar and striding toward the women. “I have had enough of overwrought, hysterical women.” Gripping Julianna by the arm, he tried to drag her upright, but she was a dead weight. Mellony leapt at him, but two blackbirds gripped her arms and dragged her back.
The congregants watched in shocked silence. Then, from the gallery above, someone began to sing in a loud, clear voice.
We are children of the north,
Born among the trees.
We will not take the collar
And we will not bend the knee.
Lila looked up. Above, on the gallery, stood a tall, grim-faced woman in spattercloth, a sword in her hand, her long braid falling over her shoulder.
Spattercloth—the uniform of the Highlander army of the Fells.
Hal Matelon stood beside her, wearing the buff of Arden.
What the—?
The quartet picked up the tune. Around them, people joined in singing. More and more spattercloth soldiers stepped forward, out of the shadows, lining the entire gallery, longbows aiming down at the wedding guests. Outside, now, could be heard the sounds of a pitched battle. Some of the wizards in the room slipped out through the doors to join in.
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