The Coming Storm (51 page)

Gratefully, he stripped and sank into the heated water. Drying cloths were near at hand. It would be good to be clean again.

A servant slipped in nearly silently to lay fresh clothing from his bags on the bed before scurrying out again.

When the time came, a servant came to escort him to the antechamber beyond the Great Hall where he found the others, clean and in fresh clothes, waiting.

All but Ailith.

The outer door opened.

It took a moment to realize who it was who stepped inside.

The woman who stood before him was every inch the daughter and Heir of a King. Ailith wore it well.

A long gown of Elven-silk in a dark shade of rose brought out the faint blush of pink in her cheeks and the darker rose of her lips. Somehow, it also made her eyes seem more blue. The neckline of the dress and the tightness of the bodice made the most of her curves and narrow waist, the full skirts swept the floor. Her rich chestnut hair had been gathered  on top of her head  with rose ribbons and diamond studded pins to reveal the long graceful curve of her throat. A circlet of gold surrounded her forehead. Ailith had always moved gracefully but now she was regal, her back arrow-straight, shoulders down, chin up and her eyes serene.

Somehow, she seemed taller.

For a moment, they were all caught off guard by the transformation, even Elon.

It was striking, that change, and yet essentially she was still the Ailith he knew.

Clearly poleaxed, Jareth said, softly, “Oh, my.”

Taking a deep breath, Ailith looked from him, smiled, then turned to meet Elon’s eyes.

Without taking his eyes from hers, he inclined his head, giving her honor.

It startled her, that small bow, taking her off guard, then she smiled a little.

Colath nodded, once, in greeting, as did Jalila, gravely.

She looked to each of them. Then to the man by the door. She nodded. At her signal the man knocked once, to alert those on the other side of the doors, then threw the doors open wide.

Inside another announced, “Lady Ailith, heir to Riverford and its environs. Lord Elon of Aerilann, Councilor. Lord Jareth of Carevon, wizard, and company.”

Ailith could have wished Colath and Jalila hadn’t been so idly dismissed as ‘company’ but she could do nothing for it. This was going to be difficult enough as it was.

She stepped through the doors,  with Elon and Jareth flanking her, a step behind.

It was a full Court, something her father had rarely done.

On both sides of them were the titled Lords and Ladies of Raven’s Nest, many of the major landowners and those merchants who looked to gain favor. King Westin was much for titles. Those he bestowed meant little outside of Raven’s Nest but it was considered an honor by those of the Kingdom to be so gifted by him. Everyone stared, of course, and whispered behind their hands.

At the end of the room was a dais, with a large and impressed throne of some dark wood with red velvet cushions trimmed in gold. Westin sat in it, his daughter and son to each side.

As a man, Westin was less than impressive. Short and rotund, with pale watery brownish-green eyes, he had a weak chin and receding mouse-brown hair. The elaborate crown on his head did little to make him look more king-like, save perhaps in his own eyes. Decisive in commerce, he’d made his Kingdom wealthy. The source of his wealth – the shepherds – didn’t see much of that coin.

Ailith had a suspicion Westin loved the accouterments of royalty all the more to make up for his own shortcomings. She’d never voiced that thought, of course.

His son Evin resembled his mother more, being fairer than his father and less round, with a slightly stronger chin but a weaker personality. Unfortunately, Elen was her father’s daughter to the core. Neither was particularly prepossessing.

The whispers died away as Ailith swept up the length of the hall to come to a halt the proper distance before the dais. A dozen heads turned and even more voices went silent. Some here were aware of the tension that had developed between the two Kingdoms but few knew the reason for it. Speculation had run rampant. It was certain to be entertaining for them to watch.

Following with the others, Elon watched as avid faces focused on the young woman in the center of the room.

With incredible grace, Ailith sank down into a perfect curtsey, her back as straight as an arrow and her head up. Not obeisance but courtesy, as the Heir of one Kingdom to the King of another. She rose as gracefully.

Westin nodded his head. “Ailith of Riverford, what brings you before me?”

“I cry Sanctuary for those who followed me here,” she said and her voice rang clearly in that colonnaded Hall. “They are troubled, beset and in need.”

“Why,” Westin said, “should I grant Sanctuary to Riverford’s citizens?”

His voice was bored but Elon could see by the sharp look in his eyes it was feigned. There was something else going on here. A game of some kind. Only Daran loved such games more.

“By my own grant and petition,” Ailith said, bowing slightly and spread her hands. “I ask it of you, out of dire need.”

“There has been a distance between our two houses,” he responded, idly.

Ailith went still, smothering the faint flicker of anger. She’d cried Sanctuary and by all rights and laws he should simply grant it. In doing so, he could, by those same rights, dun Riverford for the cost. For an man like Westin, it was an easy prize. Instead, he’d brought this up.

“That was not by my doing,” she responded, coolly. “Nor is it the fault of those people who wait outside your gates. My Lord, I noticed you are bringing your sheep in at night and your gates are closed. Is there reason for this? If so, will you allow those people, who have done you and yours no harm, to suffer on my account?”

Westin sat up a little, stung. “Why should I aid Riverford, who spurned my offer?”

Now Ailith knew what this was truly about. Anger she dared not show burned inside her. That he would use this as leverage, those desperate people outside his gate, as a wedge…

“Would you like my answer now, my Lord King? Here? In open court?” Ailith asked, her voice now as cold as iron.

The air practically crackled with energy as two strong-willed people stared each other down. This was an Ailith Elon hadn’t seen. Always, he was learning new things about her.

Jareth watched in concealed amazement.

Where was the young woman who had ridden beside him with her impish smiles
? He’d stood in Daran’s Court and seen women less regal than this who claimed greater crowns. This was a different woman and yet the same. That core of strength ran through both.

Crossing his arms, Colath was content to watch. This promised to be interesting.

Jalila resisted the impulse to shake her head. This Westin didn’t know who he played with. This one had faced down boggins and boggarts and a dark wizard alone, a mere King was not going to toy with her.

Silence stretched as their eyes locked. No one spoke, not even a whisper.

With a sudden wave of his hand, Westin dismissed the Court.

There was a sudden shocked silence and then a low mutter as the room emptied in response to that command.

Ailith restrained a shout of triumph.

“Your answer,” he said, when the room was empty of all but his children, his attendants and those in Ailith’s party.

“Your offer may have been meant with the kindest intentions,” Ailith said, evenly, “but did you not consider the insult?”

“Insult!” Westin shouted. “I offered you my son.”

“No, my lord King,” she said calmly but frostily, “you offered up my Crown.”

There was righteous fury in her voice, a deep-seated anger no one in the room missed. It thrummed.

“Did you not think my Lord Father would see your offer as an insult, not only to him but to me? He has no shame for his blood nor do I for mine. I’m proud of my blood, on both sides. You would set your son over me on my throne. In my lands. How dare you, sir! And your excuse? To remove the ‘taint’ of mixed blood from our house. The taint! Did you not realize, sir, the insult you gave to my father’s mother? Or did you simply wish to see your children ruling over two houses, yours and mine?”

Her blue eyes blazed.

“Ailith, Ailith,” Westin said, placatingly, “I meant no insult to your father or to you. I meant only that my son is a fine young man and will be a fine King some day. Your blood is an issue, though, surely you see that? Even your father had difficulty finding a wife. Who will marry you, with your blood as it is? And your children, who will carry the same?”

She glared at him, her back rigid. “When I marry, if I marry, it will be for me and me alone to choose. If there’s no one strong enough to not to care for my blood then I shall rule alone. My children will carry it no matter what name I wear. I’ll say it again, sir! I’m proud of my blood, every drop of it and I’ll have no one who doesn’t feel the same.”

“But,” she said, forcefully, “that has no bearing here. Offers made and offers refused are of no consequence to need. What of these people at your gate?”

She flung out a hand in that direction.

“Would you refuse them, sir?”

Those steel-blue eyes stared at him, her slender frame vibrated with anger.

“I have cried Sanctuary, sir, and you are bound by the laws of men and the Agreement you signed to grant it. Will you do so or in the face of that need do I send to the High King to ask, no, to demand, why not?”

“Aye,” he said, deflating.

He knew the law and the Agreement as well as she did. With a nod he waved impatiently to a man at the back of the room, who left hurriedly.

It grew dark outside, the light fading from the high clerestory windows of Westin’s Great Hall.

Ailith never turned her eyes away from the man on the dais.

“In truth, Ailith,” he said, finally, on a sigh, clearly reconsidering his strategy. “I intended no insult to you or your father. I erred in my thinking.”

There were words Ailith could have said but didn’t. “No insult then, should be taken. There are matters of more serious import to discuss. I’ve come not just to cry Sanctuary for those who follow me. I come also to ask a question.”

“Which is?”

“Have you been troubled of late by incursions across your borders by the creatures of the borderlands? When I mentioned it earlier you didn’t deny it.”

“Yes,” he said, curious now but wary.

“These folk I bring to you for sanctuary come because such incursions have increased in force in Riverford. Our eastern border is under siege.”

Turning gracefully, she stepped back beside Elon and Jareth, putting them on equal footing with her as such things were measured by the race of men.

“My Lord Elon, My Lord Jareth and I, Colath and Jalila of Aerilann have come to bear you warning. We fear an attack will be leveled against Raven’s Nest.”

So far, she was treading lightly around the truth. She couldn’t say the attack was likely to come from Riverford, of that she had no proof and the proof she might offer would damn her. Accuse her own father of such a thing, even with the soul-eater in Elon’s wallet? It would mean nothing to Westin. An Elf or a Dwarf might resist such a thing but Westin of Raven’s Nest was neither. He was a merchant at heart. He would demand to examine it. Closely. For its value, to determine the worth of the danger it offered and so be caught by it.

What she said made Westin sit up. Evin paled and Elen looked frightened. Neither one of those two pampered people had ever even considered such a thing.

“What makes you believe so?”

“Haven’t you experienced attacks by all manner of borderlands creature, even some far beyond their territory?” she asked.

“The people I bring with me were in walled villages. They were attacked by boggarts and boggins, ogres and firbolgs. A salamander attacked another. When has one of those been seen so far north? One attack was of such ferocity the walls gave way.”

Westin paled. “Nothing of that sort has ever happened, not in all memory.”

Taking a breath, she said, calmly. “It happened, I saw it with my own eyes. As did all of us.”