Kingslayer (36 page)

He had passed through the main section of the palace without truly noticing. In the heat of the day, such as now, this was the coolest place to be. The thick walls on all sides kept out the heat and the different layers of wooden latticing forming the ceiling kept direct sunlight from entering but still allowed light through. A very elaborate water fountain dominated the center of the courtyard and threw out cool water in every direction. If anyone had a choice, they were always here before and after the noon meal, enjoying the cool air and court gossip.

Amalah tended to be here with her family on a fairly regular basis, or so she’d mentioned once to him. She could very well be ahead of him and his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. But the tone hadn’t been a happy one. And he’d
never
heard Amalah raise her voice before.

A little worried, he lengthened his stride, forcing Payam to jog in order to keep up with him. As he turned the corner and stepped into the courtyard, he couldn’t quite believe the scene that met his eyes.

Amalah, her parents, and Grygotis were gathered at one bench near the entrance. In Amalah’s hands was the mirror he’d given to her, and she clutched it protectively to her chest. Grygotis loomed over her menacingly, hand raised as if poised to strike her.

“Give it back,” he hissed at her in a tone that carried. Several rajs and rajas nearby drew away from the scene, clearly unnerved at the menace in his voice.

“I will not,” Amalah responded curtly. “It is an appropriate gift, given to me in return for a favor.”

“You shouldn’t be accepting gifts from other men!” he thundered.

 “As you do from other women?” she responded with false sweetness, a brittle smile on her face.

Grygotis actually reeled a step back, shocked that she had dared retorted. Darius didn’t find anything surprising about it. Amalah was sweet natured and had an even temper, but if you pushed her far enough, she
would
match fire for fire. It just took a lot of effort to get her mad enough to fight back.

Apparently, Grygotis had never pushed her hard enough before.

Enraged, and probably a little humiliated, he reached out and grabbed her arm, jerking her to her feet. “
You’ll give that mirror back to him,”
he snarled between clenched teeth. “And everything else he’s given you!”

Amalah winced and tried to yank her arm back. “I will not.”

“YOU WILL!”

Alright, he’d had enough. Darius couldn’t do anything about the oath of betrothal between those two, but he absolutely
wouldn’t
stand there and watch her being manhandled like that. Darr strike him dead if he ever tolerated such brutality. Hand clenching, he stalked forward, red clouding his vision.

At that moment, the unthinkable happened.

Angry, beyond caring about the audience around them, Grygotis reared back a hand and slapped her across the cheek. Amalah’s head snapped to the side under the force of the blow and she staggered a little.

He faltered for a moment in sheer disbelief. That thrice-cursed, son of a mother-sucking goat actually
hit her
?!

Almost without pause, Amalah fell backwards, snatching up the book lying on the bench with her free hand. With a snarl on her face, she stepped forward and slammed the book against Grygotis’s ear with all of the force she could muster.

Grygotis, probably more stunned than hurt, lost his grip on her and sank to one knee, hand rising reflexively to cover his ear. “You hit me?” he gasped out incredulously.

Darius shook off his own surprise and quickly moved in between them, putting Amalah safely at his back.

“Darius,” she whispered.

He risked a quick smile over his shoulder. “You did well. But let me fight the rest of this, eh?”

“You don’t have the right to interfere, much less fight me.” Grygotis slowly regained his feet, glaring at Darius as he moved.

“She is my friend,” Darius returned steadily. “That gives me every right.”

“Oh?” Grytotis’s lip curled in a mocking sneer. “I thought you were the savior of all women.”

“If I need to be. It’s ridiculous, really, that I’m forced to take on that role. Especially against
you
. You should be the first man to respond to her distress, not the cause of it.”

From the side, Raj Sebresos cleared his throat in a meaningful way. Darius shot him a glance. The man had been powerfully built at one point, with a large frame. Now, it had largely deserted him as old age crept in, leaving only the traces of his glory days behind. Amalah had his eyes, but that was the only similarity between them. “Even if you are her friend, General Bresalier, you do not have the right to come between them.”

“And
you
,” Darius responded acidly, “should be the second man to automatically come to her defense. And yet here you sit, calmly watching her public humiliation. Does the love of a daughter not exist in this country?”

Sebresos flushed in shame and refused to meet his eyes after that.

“I will properly escort her home,” Darius informed them with cold finality. “If I find another mark on her, the first person to pay for it will be you, Grygotis. You will be the second, Sebresos. I will not tolerate this.”

Grygotis stepped toe to toe with him. Since the man stood a half hand taller, he used his advantage of height to loom over Darius. If he wanted to intimidate the shorter general, it failed miserably, as Darius met him head on. “You won’t do anything of the sort,” Grygotis breathed.

“You can give me your word, right now, that you will never raise your hand against her again,” Darius snarled back, “or I can break both your arms. Your choice.”

Grygotis faltered under the weight of the stare and his eyes flinched away. No surprise there. Bullies never had the confidence to really fight against someone stronger than them. That was why they always preyed on those weaker.

“Your word, Grygotis,” Darius demanded.

“Fine,” he spat out. “You have it.”

“Good.” Turning, he offered his hand to Amalah. She took it with a grateful look, her grip on him far stronger than it needed to be. He read the body language well enough:
Get me out of here. NOW.

Payam darted around them to pick up the discarded mirror box and the book. He gave the boy a thankful nod before turning on his heel and leading them out of the deadly silent courtyard.

In the silence of the hallway, with no one around them, Darius didn’t quite know what to say to her. She was hurt, and embarrassed, and probably still a little angry. He predicted that she’d either start raging or crying in a minute, when the emotions truly hit her.

In a rattled, shaky tone, Amalah said, “I think I broke the cover of the book.”

To Darius, that wasn’t important. He studied her from the corner of his eye as he responded, “I’ll get it fixed. Was it a borrowed one?”

“No.” She took in a breath. Let it out. “A gift from my grandmother.”

“Ah. I’m sure they can restore it, like new.”

“Yes. I’m just glad the mirror wasn’t broken in the struggle.” She still had it in her hand, clutched against her chest in a vice-like grip.

“So am I. It would take a special trip to Izeh in order to replace it.” He studied her expression. Was she ready to talk about this yet? “Amalah. What was that truly about?”

“They wanted me to publicly give back the things you have given me. A way to cut all ties with you.”

Political maneuvering and a way to cut the rumormongers off in their tracks? It might have worked, handled correctly. Although it also had the potential of blowing up in their faces if handled wrong. Which it had.

“Payam, will you put the mirror back in the box for me?”

They paused long enough for the boy to juggle the burdens in his arm until the mirror was safely stowed again. Payam watched her with open worry on his face.

She blinked rapidly, lip trembling, obviously trying not to cry.

Swearing softly, he pulled her toward the first open courtyard he saw. “Payam, stand guard.”

“Yes, sir!”

Startled, she stumbled a little. “Darius, what—”

No one was there. Good. Without a word of explanation, he pulled her toward him, one arm around her waist and another rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Just cry it out. You have every right to be upset. For that matter,
I’m
upset.”

Her hands slowly gripped his sides as she let her head sink onto his chest. “But you’re not crying,” she objected with a sniff.

“We can take turns,” he offered. “You’ll comfort me next, right?”

She gave a watery laugh and tightened her grip on him. “Of course.”

He bent so that his head lay next to hers, sheltering her as much as he could from the outside world. When she’d collected herself again, he wanted to put a cool cloth against her cheek, maybe a salve to prevent any bruising. But right now, in this moment, she just needed to know that someone cared about her.

Her tears soaked through his shirt, feeling damp against his skin. He tightened his arms around her. The thought that she’d probably face this again in the future left his heart cold.
I can’t do this. I can’t leave her in that man’s hands.

But Grygotis and Sebresos were both correct. He had no power to interfere in their betrothal oath either. It almost felt like he was standing alone, weaponless, with enemies on all sides. The hopelessness of the situation made him want to rage and weep and rail at the unfairness of it all.

Maybe I need to help Grygotis have that fatal accident.

~~~

Darius spent several hours with Amalah, partially to make sure she did get that bruising salve, partially because he couldn’t bear to part with her. Not like this. He found excuses instead—to take the book to a reputable repairman, to catch an early dinner while they were out in the city, to help him find a good portrait or landscape to hang in his suite. The walls were too bare otherwise.

By the time he escorted her home, she was laughing again, her usual good spirits restored. He saw her off with a promise to get lost again, just for her benefit, which had her laughing all over again. Then, reluctantly, he went home.

Of course, by the time that he got back, the story had spread all over the palace and Sego had probably heard a dozen different versions. In fact, his steward was almost camped at the front door, waiting for him to return.

Payam, wisely discerning his mood, darted for the safety of his corner as quickly as he could manage. Bohme and Tolk, who were more stout of heart, chose to lean unobtrusively against the wall and listen in.

Sego, foolhardy man that he was, charged right into the thick of it. “General, I heard the most astonishing account—”

“It’s probably true. Or at least most of it.” He tried to keep from snapping. In truth, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to be around anyone right now, in fact.

“You hit Grygotis, then?” Sego had a half-anticipatory wince on his face.

“No.” His lips quirked into something like a smile at the memory. “Amalah did.”

“
She
did?” all three men demanded incredulously.

“I’m sorry you missed it,” he responded as he headed for the nearest pitcher of water. “It was truly a sight. I wonder why the rumormongers didn’t get that part right, though?”

Sego waved that part aside as unimportant. “But he
did
strike her.”

“Yes.” The cup in his hands trembled as his hand clenched in anger.

Tolk reached over and calmly pried the cup out of his hand. The damaged cup, now. Darius had dented it in on all sides. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him.”

“It was a near thing.” Agitated, Darius ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need to think. Just…,” he waved his hands in a staying motion, “Just leave me alone and let me think, alright?”

The three exchanged confused glances before nodding reluctantly. Relieved, he headed for his garden, seeking the coolness and peacefulness of the night air.

He sat at the first bench he reached, the cold stone biting through his pants, and looked blindly ahead. Darius sat almost slumped in on himself, feeling like even breathing took too much effort. Half-formed thoughts jumbled in his head, not making sense even to him. How—? What—? Could he even…no, he shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

I can’t leave this alone.

The thought should have surprised him, and maybe it did, but he had been slowly coming to this conclusion ever since he’d learned of Amalah’s betrothal to that pig’s son. He knew full well what trouble he invited by contesting Grygotis for Amalah. His position at court had never been stable. He had many enemies that would love for him to leave an opening like this one for them to exploit. If he bulled in, Queen Tresea would likely not be able to protect him as she already had been.

Foolhardy. Reckless. Stupid.

He had to think. He had to think this through. He’d put his entire House at risk if he pursued her, he knew that. He also knew that they would staunchly support him through it all. No, that wasn’t what he needed to think about.

Oaths. That’s what mattered.

Darius raised his eyes and looked at the night sky, torn between weeping and wailing. He’d killed a man because he’d broken an oath with him. And yet here he sat, thinking of breaking another man’s oath for his own benefit. The irony was laughable but he couldn’t see the humor just then.  Really, what was the difference between him and that dead king? Intent? He could honestly say that he would do this for Amalah’s sake, to protect her from a very bleak future, but he couldn’t claim that to be his sole reason. He wanted her for himself just as badly. His intentions were not wholly pure. 

He felt like he should pray about this, seek for some higher answer, but he didn’t know if he could even receive any divine guidance right now. Likely submersing himself in a large bath surrounded by a dozen open bonfires wouldn’t help. Oath-breaking lay in Darr’s domain, not Shaa’s. He knew that painfully well.

Instinct had him turning toward the door, looking up to see who had just entered the courtyard from his suite. With only the moonlight for illumination, it took him a second to recognize who stood there. The last person he expected to come hesitated for a long second before stepping fully into the courtyard. “Sego?”