Quintana of Charyn (18 page)

Lirah sighed. ‘That may be, but only you can take Quintana and the babe safely back to the palace.’

‘Do you honestly think I’m going to let you go?’ he whispered and Froi heard pain in his voice.

‘Listen to me,’ she said firmly. ‘We may doubt and question
the truth, and entertain the horror that Quintana’s child may belong to Bestiano, but you know the gods have done something right here. That babe belongs to Dafar. And if you allow another man to raise our blood, I will never forgive you.’

And at that moment Froi was never so sure. Regardless of his constant fury at Gargarin, there was no other man he wanted taking care of Quintana and the little King.

‘You’re the smartest man I know,’ Lirah said fiercely. ‘If you can’t find a way of placing my grandson in my arms or sharing my bed without the Provincari knowing, then you are as big an idiot as the rest of them.’

Gargarin made a sound of frustration. ‘I’m not agreeing to anything … yet. If I never have to step inside the palace again, I’ll be the happiest man alive. But I’ll meet De Lancey in the morning to see if we can come to an agreement.’

Lirah was silent a moment.

‘Ask the boy what he thinks when he wakes.’

‘He’ll only say yes to anything I suggest!’ Froi heard the irritation in Gargarin’s voice. ‘I need him to be sure. Not compliant. He’s lost faith in himself, Lirah.’

Froi froze. Despite his attempt to stay quiet, he was desperate to get out of the room because he needed to breathe. He stumbled to his feet, tripping over his bedroll, and climbed onto the balcony. Despite the icy wind from the ocean, he sat down, smarting at the words he had just heard.

A short while later he heard a sound behind him and Gargarin was there.

‘Lirah said to go back inside,’ he said. They both had a habit of doing that. Saying
Lirah said
…
Gargarin said
.

Froi didn’t respond.

‘We thought you were asleep, Froi –’

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ Froi snapped.

There was silence and he wasn’t sure whether Gargarin was still there.

‘If you had stayed in Paladozza, the Avanosh lot would have taken her. She would have ended up in Sorel. Or being used as some bargaining tool.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Froi asked, looking back at him angrily. ‘To make me feel better about my
lack of faith
in myself?’

Gargarin rubbed a palm over his eyes with frustration.

‘I’m telling you because you’re punishing yourself over and over again. You caught eight barbs in your body to keep her safe, Froi. That’s enough.’

‘I lost her
.’ Froi was on his feet. ‘Do you understand? I lost her. Tariq would never have lost her.’

‘Tariq would never have left that cave in the Citavita. You take chances, Froi. When you were five years old you went out into that filthy Sarnak capital and survived. Let’s pray to the gods that Quintana listened to everything you had to teach her.’

Froi shook his head with frustration.

‘We could look at the side of wonder,’ Gargarin said.

‘What?’ Froi asked, as if Gargarin had gone insane.

‘Well, let’s say that instead of losing her, you gave her a chance to escape,’ Gargarin explained. ‘That’s the side of wonder.’

Froi heard a sound behind them and Lirah was there.

‘Since when do you look at the side of wonder?’ Froi asked.

‘I’m trying very hard,’ Gargarin said, scowling. ‘It’s irritating me, but I’m not giving up. I try to think of a wondrous thought every day when I wake, if you’d really like to know.’

‘Yes, it’s very annoying, but slightly contagious,’ Lirah said.

Froi couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘It’s true,’ Gargarin said. ‘And now even Lirah is saying, “Let’s look at the side of wonder as opposed to the disastrous.”’

Froi wondered if they were mocking him.

‘Lirah?’ he asked, looking up at her. ‘You are the least wondrous-thinking person I’ve ever met.’

Lirah looked irritated. ‘Well, if you’d really like to know, I used to skip as a child and collect poppies. Sometimes I think deep down there’s an idiot inside of me who wants to laugh.’

For some ridiculous reason, Froi wanted to laugh now.

‘Do you want to know this morning’s wondrous thought according to Gargarin?’ she asked. Gargarin looked uncomfortable.

Lirah stood before Froi and held a hand to his face. ‘He said, “Well, at least the three of us are together.”’

Froi was silent and then gazed at Gargarin, who merely shrugged as if to admit guilt at such a ridiculous thought.
Hope. Hope. Hope.
Rothen of Nebia had written it on his grandfather’s ceiling. Froi saw the hope in Gargarin’s eyes. He imagined a time when Arjuro would be with them. And Quintana. And the babe. Could they endure anything if they were together?

‘You want a decision?’ Froi asked.

Gargarin’s mood changed in an instant. He nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘We’re nothing without an army. The Queen of Lumatere’s greatest accomplishment in exile was reuniting Trevanion with Finn and his men to take back Lumatere. I saw it. We walked into death camps and exile camps and the moment the Lumaterans saw Trevanion and the Guard they’d follow us in an instant. I say we go to Serker.’

Lirah looked surprised.

‘When I was with Tariq, he spoke of an army in the centre of the land,’ Froi said. ‘I’ve dreamt of him often these nights. It’s a sign.’

‘I’ll speak to De Lancey –’

‘De Lancey’s a weakness,’ Froi said flatly. ‘Your news about Arjuro’s imprisonment will slow him down. We go now.’

 

 

I
saboe heard the sound of the horses and knew Finnikin had returned.

‘My queen,’ Rhiannon said, and there was a reprimand in her lady’s-maid’s voice. ‘You know it’s best to come out here. They’re approaching … and he’s sneezing.’

Finnikin and Isaboe had observed a ritual ever since they moved into the palace. She’d wait in the courtyard to welcome him if he had been away for more than a day or two. He said it was the first thing he looked for. It meant he was truly home.

Isaboe finished the document she was preparing for the Sarnaks and put down her pen, joining Rhiannon on the balcony. And there he was and her heart pounded. All of these years and her heart still pounded out of control at the sight of him. She had felt it that day in Sendecane almost four years past when she first saw him in the cloister. He had an irritated expression on his face when he discovered she was a girl. Even as a child when her brother and cousin would insist on dragging her around to be part of their mischief her heart would beat hard at the sight of Finnikin of the Rock.

Today she watched him hunched over his horse, sneezing into his kerchief.

‘He looks quite ill,’ Rhiannon said. ‘He’s always so … needy when he’s ill.’

‘Pitifully so.’

‘It’s a trait of the rock people, I’m afraid,’ Rhiannon said. She was from the Rock herself and was the best authority to say so.

‘Could you prepare a bath, Rhiannon? I’ll take care of the rest.’

Isaboe watched as he glanced up, not quite as sheepishly as she would have liked, but she did see his shoulders relax at the sight of her. It had been weeks since he left in rage and she still felt raw from the accusation he had made before they parted. She felt raw from everything. She remembered the time she had carried Jasmina in her belly, when the future had felt promising. But this time was different and she didn’t know how to put it into words. This fear. This premonition of doom.

She went back inside to where Rhiannon was pouring water into the tub and she waited. She knew him well. Now that his father no longer lived in the palace they would speak for some time at the stables about the outcome of their travels.

A short while later he shuffled into the chamber, and she could see his relief that the tub was filled. She imagined he was cold to the bone. His clothing seemed to weigh him down. Wordlessly she approached him and unhooked his fleece cloak, pushing it from his shoulders and dropping it to the ground, and then she pulled free his shirt. He held up his arms as she dragged it over his head, his eyes on her the whole time. Her hands went to the fastening of his trousers and his head bent towards hers, but she turned her face away, though not before she caught the flash in his eyes. Then he stepped out of his clothing and climbed into the steaming water with a deep sigh of pleasure. Isaboe
crouched beside him and her hand tugged his hair back.

‘If you ever walk out of this palace accusing me of disloyalty to our spousal bed again, I’ll tear you apart, piece by piece.’

A hand as quick as hers gripped her face. ‘And if you wake with another man’s name on your lips again, I’ll tear him apart, piece by piece.’ His mouth was hard on hers but she matched his force and then he let go, lifting a hand to trace her lips with his thumb. She gently pushed him back and tended to him and she could see his eyes on the opening of her shift that allowed him a glimpse of the curve of her body, ripe with their child. He reached to clench her garment in a fist. ‘Take it off,’ he begged hoarsely. ‘Please.’ And she lifted it over her head and climbed into the tub, straddling his thighs as his hands wandered over her swollen belly. He pressed a kiss against it before taking her face between his hands, his mouth back on hers. She felt a hunger from him like never before, their mouths greedy for anything they could take, and when she moved above him, he thrust into her and she covered his mouth with her hand to stop his cries echoing across the quiet chamber to where their guard stood outside.

Later, they lay in each other’s arms in their bed. She pressed her lips against his pale chest, tracing a finger across a new bruise or two.

‘My queen …’

‘Yes, my king?’

‘I’m dying,’ he groaned.

She laughed.

‘You’ve caught a chill because you weren’t wearing an under-shirt, and every year you catch a chill for the same reason and you believe you’re dying. It’s a common cold, my love. The type that men catch. The one they believe is killing them.’

‘I’m speaking the truth. I am dying. My nose is red raw and my throat …’ He made a choking sound. ‘It hurts,’ he said
hoarsely. ‘And you mock me when all I need is your tender care.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t go home with your father and have Beatriss fuss over you.’

His arms bound tightly around her. ‘If I spent one more night away from my wife I would have just laid down and died.’

She chuckled. ‘Ah, you’re a clever man for saying all the right things.’

She covered them both with a blanket and he tucked her in the crook of his arm.

‘Tell me everything,’ she said quietly.

‘From the sounds of things you’ve got as much to tell me.’

She tried to find the words, but still hadn’t spoken them aloud.

‘Tesadora … and I are no longer on speaking terms,’ she finally said.

‘Because she’s befriended a strange Charynite in the valley? That doesn’t sound enough of a reason for you to break with someone you love as dearly as you do that hostile woman.’ He peered down at her. ‘Why are there so many hostile women in this land?’

‘You’re not very good with women, Finnikin. Your father, on the other hand, has them eating out of his hands, but you’re just hopeless.’

‘I am not.’

‘This is how my Mont womenfolk refer to you,’ she said, doing an exaggerated movement with her eyes and mouth.
‘Finnikin!’

He laughed. ‘You are ridiculous and we’re digressing from Tesadora’s strange friend.’

Isaboe turned to face him.

‘Are you ready for this?’ she asked.

‘After the tales I’ve heard in Charyn, I’m ready for anything,’ he said.

‘Tesadora is hiding the Princess of Charyn from the Charynites.’

‘Mercy!’ Finnikin sat up, stunned.

She nodded.

‘You mean Quintana of Charyn has been here all along?’ he asked.

Isaboe looked at him, confused and irritated.

‘That wasn’t quite the response I was expecting,’ she said.

Finnikin sighed. ‘We found Froi. With Gargarin of Abroi, who isn’t exactly the man we thought he was.’

‘And how certain are we of that?’ she asked.

‘Quite certain. All three of us agree that we could have made a catastrophic error.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly call killing a Charynite a catastrophic error,’ she said.

‘Are you ready for this?’ he asked.

‘I’m ready for anything,’ she said, but she felt the doubt of her own words. When it came to Froi, she wasn’t quite sure.

‘Gargarin of Abroi is not just a Charynite, Isaboe. He’s Froi’s father.’

‘What?’ She sat up instantly.

‘I met the mother as well.’

‘Froi has a mother?’

‘Awful woman. Beautiful beyond comprehension, but awful. Spat at me. Granted, I was about to kill her lover, but still … she hated me at first sight. But beautiful. Achingly beautiful.’

‘Yes, I do think I’ve got the point about her being beautiful,’ Isaboe said. ‘But tell me of Froi. How would he know such a thing?’

Finnikin slipped out of bed to get to his pack and she watched him shiver as he riffled through his belongings, holding up a letter before sprinting back to her and settling himself under the comfort of the blankets.

‘He’s written to you and Augie and the Priestking. It’s all strange. Lettering scorched into his head, hidden all this time. Wording on his back, only visible to the gods’ touched. That’s what they call their gifted. He’s been wounded and sewn up and he’s confused and I’m sure I saw a tear or two, and Perri hasn’t coped with any of it. Deep down I think Perri thought Froi was his. And the father … Gargarin. An intellect? Froi’s father an intellect? His body all mangled from palace beatings. The father’s, not Froi’s. And the father has a twin with the same face who was trapped in Lumatere for ten years and was almost poisoned by you and Tesadora with the rest of them.’

‘Finnikin, be serious.’

‘That was serious,’ he protested. ‘And they’re angry at each other, Froi and the father. And the mother is just cold.’

Isaboe studied Finnikin’s face for the truth and saw it there.

‘Poor Froi,’ she said, heartbroken for their friend. ‘Why didn’t you bring him home instead of leaving him with those hideous people?’

‘Because I think Froi loves those hideous people.’

Isaboe’s head was spinning from everything she was hearing.

‘It was strange … but he looked so foreign,’ Finnikin said.

‘Gargarin of Abroi?’

‘No. Froi. I’d never noticed before. Perhaps it was hearing him speak Charyn. His manner with the father and the awful … but beautiful mother … ouch, that hurt.’

‘I’ll pinch you harder the next time.’ She reached for the letter.

‘Have you read it?’ she asked.

‘Over and over again. It’s a fantastical tragedy … and you’re going to have to prepare yourself.’

‘I think I know a thing or two about fantastical tragedies,’ she said.

He shook his head. ‘No. It’s the mad princess you’ll have to
prepare yourself for. She’s with child.’

Isaboe sighed. ‘I know. It was the only thing that stopped me from slitting her throat.’

‘Yes, we’ll talk about you running savage in the valley with a dagger later,’ he said, and she could hear the anger in his voice. ‘But read the letter and you’ll understand.’

She felt him watching her as she read and she felt sick from dread as she took in the details before her. She read it twice. Three times. Looked at Finnikin with disbelief and he nodded because he knew it all well.

‘What are your thoughts?’ he asked quietly.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Then she’d have to feel anger … and regret. Guilt, perhaps. But she didn’t want to. She had every right to despise Quintana of Charyn.

‘You think it’s his?’ she asked quietly.

‘Yes I do.’

‘What a mess,’ she said. ‘I hope Froi doesn’t think they’ll let him raise that child alongside her.’

‘He’s not thinking that far ahead. He’s desperate to know she’s alive and here she is in our valley. If you want to know the truth … I believe that the Charynites want her dead more than we do.’

‘Well, I’m not protecting her, regardless of who the father of her child is.’

She thought about it a little longer, and the more she did, the angrier she grew.

‘Don’t tell me he’s in love with her, Finnikin. You’ve got to see her. She’s … this vicious cold-looking viper. All small and round, much the same as Lucian’s supposedly dead wife. Little people irritate me. I felt like this monstrous giant alongside them.’

‘Well, it’s not as if we’re letting her up the mountain,’ Finnikin
said. ‘That’s all we need. More of our people killed to protect a mad princess, regardless of what she means to Froi.’

They stayed in bed sorting through correspondence.

‘Nothing from Jehr?’ he asked and it pained her to hear the sadness in his voice. In exile they had taken refuge in Yutlind, a kingdom that had been at war with itself for as long as anyone could remember. Finnikin, Isaboe and Froi had all struck up a profound bond with the heir of the southern throne, Jehr, and they all despaired at not having heard from the southern Yuts for at least two winters now.

‘I think those northerners have done something to Jehr. It’s been too long. I think we’re going to have to accept that Yutlind Sud is gone,’ Finnikin said.

They heard a sound in the hallway and then Jasmina’s chatter, and Isaboe saw Finnikin’s face soften. Her heart sang to see his smile. Sometimes she was frightened that Finnikin would never understand their daughter, in the way he didn’t understand most women. Jasmina ran into the room, eyes wandering, searching, and lighting up with joy when she saw her father. Finnikin leapt out of bed and held out his arms, and she ran to him. ‘Fa,’ she said with delight, and he pretended to collapse from the weight of her until they were lying beside Isaboe.

‘I like the sound of Fa,’ he said.

‘She’s copying Vestie.’

‘Tell me again why she has to call us Isaboe and Finnikin?’ he asked.

Jasmina was smothering them both with kisses.

‘In case anything happens to us,’ Isaboe replied. ‘I read it in one of the chronicles of the ancients to do with child-rearing. The more a child gets used to comfort terms such as Fa and Mumma, the more they will grieve if something happens to them. It’s the words they miss using.’

Jasmina squeezed them all together, her little arms around both their necks, and she practised her counting with a kiss to each cheek.

‘Yes, I can see it working,’ Finnikin said dryly. ‘Can we rid ourselves of the child-rearing books and let her call us whatever she wants?’

Isaboe laughed at Jasmina’s antics and he kissed them both. Suddenly the three of them were knocked aside by a force beyond reckoning and she knew by the thunderous look on Finnikin’s face that she’d have to explain the hound’s presence on the bed.