Sword (24 page)

This wasn't going well so far.

The pavilion was surrounded by tense soldiers, and also by men in odd long tunics and breeches mottled dark brown and green, most of whom had the same sand-shade of skin as Annan and his kin. Longbows arced over their backs on one side; swords in baldrics loomed over the other. The mysterious mountainfolk. Kinsey met the gaze of one inadvertently, realized it was actually a woman he was staring at, and slipped into the pavilion blinking. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimness: all he could see were vague shapes. His pulse began to race.

"Your Highness of Cassdall, well met," someone said, sounding remarkably sincere, and a young woman came forward and took his hand. For a second, he could see nothing but the startling contrast of her hair and skin next to the dark cloth of her gown. A scent like clean rain and lilacs hit his nose.

"Thank you," Kinsey said. "…Your Majesty."

She must have heard the question in his voice. "Yes, Highness, I am Taireasa Marsadron." She let go of his hand and stepped back. Her face was coming clear. Kinsey wished suddenly that it wouldn't, because she was beautiful in a dazzling way he'd never encountered before, and he was already making an idiot of himself. He bowed, trying to gather his scattered wits.

"Thank you, Majesty, for the welcome."

"And I thank you, Highness, for your aid in the battle. It would have been a far harder fight without your arrival."

"You can credit the Lord Corwynall for that," Kinsey said. He slid a sideways glance at Devin, where he was standing next to a pair of tall Fraonir men in those mottled green outfits. Devin's eyes were only for his sister. The Lady Corwynall hovered at the edge of this gathering, a tall girl in simple armor with even less expression on her face than Annan, something Kinsey would not have believed possible. Her gaze flickered over him, and his shoulders twisted into an involuntary shudder. All the Lardana he'd met looked grief-stricken, but he'd never encountered anyone with such distance in their eyes.

He began to understand why Devin was so upset.

"And I believe the Lord Corwynall can credit the Clan leaders of the Fraonir," Annan said, so innocently it was almost possible to overlook the fact that he was fishing for answers. His eyes had narrowed, taking in all the odd currents moving through the room, all the awkward silences.

Kinsey shifted and stepped on Annan's foot. "My lieutenant, Annan Adaron," he said, forcing Annan to be polite.

One of the Fraonir men approached, gripping his wrist in greeting. "Kinsey of Cassdall," the man said, which seemed like a fairly clear statement on where these mountainfolk stood on the matter of his title. "Welcome. I am Measail Sarn's-son, leader of the Eanin Clan."

The other man, tall and broad as though he had been carved from the mountain itself, came forward to take his wrist next. "Well met," he said simply. "You traveled hard to be here."

"We did, sir—"

"Arlen. Arlen Ulin's-son, leader of the Darachim Clan. Your arrival was timely."

As yours was not
, Kinsey thought, for the Fraonir Clans had shown up only when the battle was done—they had provided aid afterward, yes, but it was a lapse he couldn't help but wonder about, given all Devin had said of them and their mysterious foreknowledge. Arlen Ulin's-son gave him a grim smile, as though he'd spoken that thought out loud. Kinsey gave the smile right back and was pleased to see a thoughtful look cross this Arlen's face.

"Sir," Kinsey said quietly. "Majesty," he added, turning to the Lady Taireasa, who set a hand on his sleeve and neatly blew every thought out of his head with that single, polite touch. What
had
he gotten himself into here? If every Lardana he met exerted this compelling pull,
he was going to end up wandering around this wild country after them like a forlorn puppy.

"We have come from Cassdall because we've no place there," he said at last, wrenching his brain back to the needs of the moment with a fierce effort that gave him an instant headache. "My uncle took the throne by force, and has made it clear that I am not a welcome member of his court. I know that your own affairs are anything but settled, but if it would be possible to reach some sort of understanding—"

Taireasa's fingers tightened over his wrist and the rest of the words dried up unsaid.

"Your Highness, for my part, you are most welcome," she said. "But I'm not in a position to make offers at the moment. We are refugees, too, and also in hope of aid from the Fraonir…"

"Which we are offering," Arlen Ulin's-son said smoothly. He eyed the point where Taireasa's fingers were resting on Kinsey's arm and she took her hand back, a faint stain of color blooming on her cheeks. Kinsey looked desperately away from that. "Prince of Cassdall, you will have seen some old stonework on your way to meet us here."

"Yes…"

"Well. It is unoccupied, and more or less in good repair now. It will keep out the weather, at least. And it's large enough for both of your peoples, in whatever arrangement you choose to make."

Kinsey opened his mouth, but for a second he couldn't get anything out of it. This offer was both more and less solid than he'd been braced for: he had hoped, at most, for the freedom of the mountain, and permission to build a permanent camp. Instead they were offered a share of a
castle
, however old… and must make all arrangements beyond that with the Lardana, who apparently had first claim.

Interesting. And strange.

And, gods, how in the world had they known so far in advance that returning this castle to
good repair
would be necessary?

"More or less good repair
now
," the Lady Corwynall echoed while he was still trying to find his tongue, clearly thinking in the same direction.

"Aye, we have done what we could to make it ready," the Clan leader said, facing her.

Taireasa Marsadron frowned, her eyes narrowed in thought. "But if you…"

"We're not prophets, lowland queen—just men with a better view. We made the mountain keep ready in case it was needed. I am sorry to see that it is, but it is yours if you want it."

Ulin's-son's tone made it clear he considered this the end of the discussion, but judging by the line forming between Taireasa's eyebrows, Kinsey doubted that was the case. Taireasa looked ready to say more, but Kyali Corwynall pushed in.

"There is another thing that must be settled here," she said—and, as Taireasa's frown grew deeper, she bent at the knee, her eyes locked firmly on her queen's. Taireasa turned a strange color and stumbled a quick few steps backward. Devin caught her arm before she could fall.

"What is
this
?" he asked, obviously trying for humor, but his voice shook. "Sister, you've an odd sense of timing—" Horror dawned on his face. "Oh gods," he said. "Taireasa, she hasn't
sworn
? Are you mad?"

Taireasa wrenched away from him. "I won't," she said. "I will not do this. Get up," she snapped at Kyali, without looking at her.

"No," Kyali insisted. "We have
one
army, Majesty—do something to keep it that way while you still can!"

Devin blinked down at his sister. "What?"

"Feldan," Kyali said grimly. Some of the angry color in Devin's face fell away.

"Oh, far too ambitious, cousin," he murmured. He took hold of Taireasa's wrist again, carefully, as though he thought she might hit him. "Taireasa, Feldan's an idiot. But she
has
to swear," he said softly. "You know it. We can't afford to leave any question about who rules here. Take her oath."

"
I will not
."

The effort of speaking the words left Taireasa visibly winded. She turned away from them all, her hands curling into fists. Kinsey took a diffident step back, not sure what he and Annan had come into, but positive it wasn't something he ought to witness. It seemed deeply private, and painful even to the Lady Corwynall, who was still kneeling where her queen had left her. Her eyes had a peculiar golden light in them.

Devin ran a hand through his dark hair, leaving it standing in all directions. "Taireasa, you
must
. You can't—how do you think—" He sputtered to a halt, flinging his hand out. "It was the vote that started all this!"

Aha. Kinsey searched his memories of Lardana histories, their strange customs. The schism in the army he'd noted earlier made sense now.
Two
royal houses. Devin was a Bard, a sacred profession that precluded all rank and title—but Kyali Corwynall was as eligible for the throne as Taireasa was, and the events of the uprising that had landed them all here had thrown the right of rule into question.

Gods, this could be messy if it weren't settled quickly.

"Leave me alone," Taireasa said, her voice bleak and exhausted. Her shoulders slumped. "Please, just leave it be."

"What
happened
to you two?" Devin cried. "You barely look at one another, you don't speak, you've left
this
of all things in question—"

Taireasa hunched over herself as though she were in pain. Kinsey felt a chill steal over his skin as Kyali sucked in a gasping breath, like a woman about to jump from a great height into deep water. She pulled a locket out from under her shirt.

Something like the heaviness before a thunderstorm filled the air in the tent.

Beside him, Annan stiffened, his hand hovering over the pommel of his sword as if the small space were filling up with enemies. Kinsey got his lieutenant's arm in a firm grasp and pulled them both backward on an impulse he didn't stop to question.
Something
was happening, something bewildering and a little bit horrible. The air was growing heavier, thicker. His hair began to stand on end.

Kyali Corwynall snapped the chain of the locket.

A guttural moan leapt out of her throat... and halfway across the tent, Taireasa cried out as though struck, while Devin crumpled to the dirt with a groan. Kyali fell forward with a strangled sound and caught herself on her hands. She was breathing in ragged gasps.

"What
is
this?" Annan hissed, his arm hard as stone under Kinsey's hand.

"Hush," Kinsey murmured. "Magic… I think it's magic."

The air snapped and sang, pushing at his skin, dragging at the air in his lungs. Taireasa had turned to face Kyali. "No," she choked out. "No, Kyali,
why
?"

Shuddering, Kyali pushed herself upright. Her eyes were on her brother. Devin rolled to his knees and crawled, head down and shameless, across the tent to his sister. "Don't," was all he said, in a tiny, sad voice.

Kyali's chin came up. She pressed the locket into his hands. "I have no House," she said into the silence.

Taireasa covered her face. Devin stared. After a moment, he swallowed audibly and looked down at the locket in their tangled fingers. "You have no House," he said to their hands.

"I ha… have no kin."

"You—oh gods, Kyali—you have no kin."

Tears spilled over Devin's face. Kinsey felt his own eyes sting in sympathy. Kyali herself was stone, only that small hesitation and the unhealthy pallor of her skin hinting at what this might cost.

"I have no allegiance but what I make hereafter," she finished. Devin drew a shuddering breath, his mouth twisting, and pulled the locket from her palm. He clutched it so hard a thin line of blood slid out of his closed fist.

"Kyali of House Corwynall is no more," he rasped. Then he shoved himself up to weave drunkenly to one of the tent posts and lean against it.

Kyali spared a single glance toward her brother's knotted form, then flexed her fingers. For a brief second, she had such a lost look that Kinsey bit his lip as the same sort of sympathy that had drawn him to Devin curled queasily in his guts. Her eyes caught his, and he watched her pull a mask of calmness over herself like a helm. When she turned to look at Taireasa, she was perfectly composed again.

"Bind me or cast me out, Your Majesty," she said.

"Damn you," Taireasa whispered.

"Yes."

The two girls looked at one another for a long moment, the air crackling between them. Kinsey waited, breath held, and nearly jumped into the low ceiling when a soldier pushed past the canvas door of the tent, letting in the burning light of the setting sun and the startlingly loud noise of the camp.

“Majesty," he said, kneeling. He sent a single, bewildered glance at Kyali, who was also kneeling at Taireasa's feet, and then bowed his head.

"Ranan," Taireasa said. "What is it?"

"The men… Majesty, Feldan Corwynall…" He couldn't seem to get the rest out.

"Such timing," Taireasa hissed, setting a hand on the man's shoulder. "All right. All right, then. I will meet him outside in a moment," she said quietly.

Devin turned. "Taireasa, no," he objected.

"What would you suggest? They have a right to challenge. I can hardly expect to carry this out in secret. Certainly not in a tent. I'm sure our army has heard an earful already. I want this done in the open."

Kyali heaved herself unsteadily to her feet. "Gods
damn
it, Taireasa! No more of this.
Take my oath
."

"No, no, and no again." Taireasa turned to the soldier. "Leave us. We will be out in a moment."

"Majesty," the soldier murmured, wretched, and stood to slip out.

"So," Taireasa said, looking at her own hands. She met Kyali's furious gaze one more time. Her shoulders went back and she spun in a swirl of skirts to leave. Devin followed, casting an anguished glance back at Kyali, then at Kinsey. "Stay here," he said hurriedly, and vanished out into the dying daylight and the sound of a great many angry and desperate soldiers.

"Not likely," Annan muttered. 

And it wasn't. This was a bad position to be in—and would be far worse if the Lady Marsadron didn't win this day. Kinsey had no idea what sort of welcome he would receive from another claimant.

Kyali strode past them to the entrance, but Arlen caught her by the arm before she could get there. She flinched away from him as though he had burned her, and the Clan leader let her arm go immediately.