Blackveil (60 page)

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Authors: Kristen Britain

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #fantasy, #Epic

BOOK: Blackveil
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“What did he say?”
Laren bit her lip. “Not a lot. My name. Nonsense, really. Destarion suggests speaking to him even if it appears he does not hear you.”
She then withdrew, leaving Estora with her head bowed. When Laren stepped into the anteroom, she found Colin and Spane in heated discussion.
“I want her married immediately,” Spane loudly demanded. “Lord Coutre would want it.”
Laren strode right up to him and jabbed her finger at his chest. “You will take your argument elsewhere. This is not the time or place.”
Spane’s mouth gaped, then he said indignantly, “This is absolutely the time, and I will not be ordered about by some common messenger. Estora must marry before that man in there dies.”
“He’s not even conscious,” Colin replied.
“It matters not. I’ve a moon priest waiting outside and I—”
“Enough.”
The command in Laren’s voice was unmistakable and both Colin and Spane stared at her. “That man in there needs peace to heal. You will shut up or I will escort you out of here myself.”
“You will not speak to me in this manner. I do not take orders from you. It’s rather the other way around.”
Laren smiled. “
I
only take orders from the king. You are not
he
.”
Before he could open his mouth, she grabbed his wrist, wrenched it behind his back, and pushed him toward the door to the corridor.
“Get her off me!” Spane cried.
No one moved to aid him. The Weapons seemed to look on in approval, and Fastion opened the door to the corridor and said, much to Laren’s relief, “I’ll take it from here.”
Laren closed the door behind them, but could still hear Spane spitting venom all the way. Her actions had not been politic and now she had acquired a powerful enemy, but it was well worth it if she brought Zachary some peace and quiet. It had certainly brought
her
satisfaction.
Colin touched her arm. “Wish I’d done that myself.”
“He had it coming,” Laren replied. “The man is a snake.” She fantasized about putting her fist in his face.
“Snake or not, he represents the interests of Clan Coutre.”
“More like his own interests,” Laren muttered.
“Regardless, he was Lord Coutre’s confidant and aide, and Lady Estora’s chaperone. He has represented the clan here for several years and he is not without influence.”
“He should not disturb Zachary.”
“I do not dispute that, of course, but all our emotions are rather raw at the moment.” Colin paused, as if gauging whether or not he should continue. Finally he said, “Lord Spane does have a point.”
“What?”
“We don’t know if Zachary named an heir in the Royal Trust, and if he did, we don’t know who. We
do
know Lady Estora.”
“Zachary is sensible and he’s a scholar of history. I’m sure he named someone and it’s a good choice.”
“I’d expect nothing less of him,” Colin said. “But it will still lead to bickering and infighting, which we can ill afford right now.”
“I know,” Laren replied. “But do you think the lord-governors will accept a deathbed marriage any more favorably than someone Zachary picked himself? Do you think they will readily accede power to an untried woman?”
“Untried? She’s been trained to rule all her life and would be the next lady-governor of Coutre if not for the betrothal. She was born to lead, and Zachary’s been very good about including her in all that concerns the realm. We’d make it a thoroughly legitimate marriage. At least that which is in our power. I’m sure we can find persons willing to testify they witnessed the, um ...”
“The consummation,” Laren snapped. “Are you listening to yourself? Zachary can’t even speak for himself in the matter. It’s . . . it’s deceptive.”
“Treasonous?”
“You said it, not me.” Laren was beginning to feel light-headed from all the implications.
“It is an emergency,” Colin said. “You know as well as I Birch is planning to make a move. Second Empire is out there collecting its forces. Who knows what will happen with Blackveil? We need a transition sooner rather than later, and we both know Lady Estora has Sacoridia’s best interests at heart.”
“Good gods,” Laren said weakly. She stumbled to the nearest chair and Colin followed her. “Zachary can’t even speak for himself in this.”
“No, but who better to speak for him than us? Certainly not Lord Mirwell or Lord D’Ivary or Lord Wayman or any of the others. They will speak only in their own interests. Not for Zachary, not for the realm.” Colin leaned over her. “Harborough is in favor, and he has the army to back him.”
“You’ve been discussing this with others?”
“Yes. As soon as we heard the news, even before Lord Spane came to us.”
“This ... this is like a coup,” Laren whispered.
Colin’s expression was intense. She’d always seen him as professional and loyal, not as a schemer. The whole world had gone topsy-turvy.
“It’s a wedding,” he said. “One Zachary contracted for and intended to carry out. We’re just moving up the date. If he survives, all the better. We can have another wedding for the benefit of all those who could not attend the first.”
“I can’t agree to this,” Laren said. “Don’t you think you should consult with Sperren first?”
“As you know he is presently indisposed, but I think over time I have come to understand his mind. I believe he’d be in favor.”
“You do know my Riders will have to go to the lord-governors with the news of the king. I could certainly reveal your plan in the message they receive.”
“That would only incite turmoil.”
“Yes, but Colin, you know the nature of my special ability. I can judge the honesty of others, but the ability puts a burden on me and how I use the truth or falsehoods.” She paused, thinking how she manipulated the truth to keep Zachary and Karigan apart. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “I cannot draw my Riders into such a deception. They survive because message recipients trust that the Riders are doing honest duty, not partaking of some political trickery. I will not involve my Riders in your scheme. They will bear only the truth.”
“Would you consider delaying them?”
“No. That is another form of deception. Zachary would want the lord-governors notified as soon as possible. My Riders go out tonight.”
Colin straightened, looking thoughtful, and suddenly he was once again the level-headed advisor she had worked with since he took over from his predecessor, Devon Wain-wright. “You have made your position clear, Captain. You have given me much to think on.” He drifted away to speak quietly with Destarion.
“Thank the gods.” Laren was wrung out from the day’s events. As if the life-threatening injury to Zachary was not enough, all the conspiracies had infected even one of the steadiest men she knew. He might be right about an early wedding alleviating some of the turmoil that awaited the announcement of the king’s heir, but a deathbed wedding? It wouldn’t help much.
Please don’t let it be his deathbed,
she thought. Tonight, after she sent her Riders out, she’d light a candle down in the castle’s chapel of the moon. She had not done that in what, years?
“Captain?”
She looked up, and there was Destarion with a teacup in his hands. “Any change?”
“Not yet. Lady Estora still sits with him. I brewed some tea—thought we could all use some. It’s been a trying day and I fear a long night ahead of us.”
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup and taking a sip.
Destarion smiled and made a small bow before stepping away.
Tea really was just the thing. The warmth of it soothed her. She wrapped her fingers around the cup and tried to relax as the menders came and went from Zachary’s bedchamber.
She gazed about Zachary’s dressing room. It was really a well-appointed drawing room, with dark wood paneling and furniture upholstered in pliant leather. Paintings of ships on the sea hung on the walls, along with portraits of Zachary’s beloved terriers. It was all very much
him
and she wondered what touches Estora would have brought to it, what life children could bring to the monarch’s wing. She had little doubt Zachary would have made a wonderful father. The loss of what was, and what could be, threatened to drown her.
He was not dead yet, and damn it all to the five hells, he’d better not die and leave her here on her own, not after all they’d been through together. She finished the tea, thinking it was time she prepared the message that must go to the lord-governors before someone else concocted another scheme. She stood and the room spun.
“What . . . ” She staggered trying to find balance. Her teacup smashed on the floor, and suddenly she noticed that no one else held one. Hadn’t Destarion said he’d brewed everyone a cup?
The room tilted and she began to fall. The strong arms of Weapons caught her.
“Not feeling well, Captain?” Colin asked, suddenly standing before her.
“Dizzy,” she mumbled. “Tired.” Rather beyond tired. She was slipping away . . .
“It’s been a hard day for us all,” Colin said. “I’m sorry about this.”
“
We’re
sorry.” It was Destarion standing next to Colin.
Her brain was muddled, but not that muddled and she fought against losing consciousness. “The tea! What have you ...”
“Rest, Captain,” Destarion said. “You’ll feel better soon.”
A vast darkness sucked the light from her eyes. Everything dimmed until there was nothing. Nothing at all.
IN THE BEST INTEREST OF THE REALM
E
stora did not know how long she sat beside Zachary’s bed, but the daylight that had poured so readily into his chamber earlier was now diminished. He did not awaken, did not speak.
Her desire to stay with and comfort her mother in the wake of her father’s death had warred with her own need to be with Zachary, but her mother had urged her to go to her betrothed. And so here she was, where her heart told her she must be.
Here in the relative peace of Zachary’s bedchamber was she able to grieve in solitude for her father. The mender said the wound had been so severe that they could not have saved him even if they’d been immediately upon the scene. She suspected the Rider-mender, Ben, could have saved him with his magic, but Zachary came first. That was the way of things.
With some surprise she realized with her father gone she was now the lady-governor of Coutre Province. If Zachary recovered and they married, the title would pass to her sister next in line, and Estora would become queen as planned. If Zachary did not survive, she would remain the lady-governor and return to Coutre to lead the province in its affairs.
She did not wish to return to Coutre. It was a revelation, but she’d become very fond of Zachary, his compassion, his courtesy, his strength. She’d also enjoyed learning about the challenges of running the realm, of trying to solve land disputes between farmers or ensuring troops were properly provisioned on the northern boundary. Day in and day out she witnessed Zachary dealing with cunning political minds. He was as sharp, or sharper, than they, and she admired his intellect, loved how the problems stimulated her own mind. She especially enjoyed when they worked out the problems together, often discussing and analyzing them over tea after an exhausting day of meetings and audiences.
She supposed she could take on the same challenges in Coutre, but he, Zachary, would not be there. It would not be the same.
She gazed at him now wondering how anyone would want to harm him. He was a just king, a good man. He had endangered himself today to ensure she was not hurt by the assassin. He’d shielded her with his own body. If he hadn’t, might he be safe now?
The Weapons intimated their initial investigation led them to believe both arrows had been intended for Zachary. Whether he shielded her or not, he likely would have been hit. Her father’s death was an accident.
In the waning light, beads of sweat glistened on Zachary’s brow where his silver fillet usually rested. He mumbled unintelligibly. Estora reached over and touched his cheek with the back of her hand. He was hot. She rose from her chair and hastened to the anteroom. There she found Master Destarion huddled in intense, hushed conversation with Colin, General Harborough, and her cousin. She wondered briefly where Captain Mapstone was.

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