The Dead God's Due (The Eye of the Lion Saga Book 1) (14 page)

He was jarred from his peace by
the sound of movement behind him. He sighed.
Luck
can only hold out so long, I suppose.

“Do you love the bitch,
or is she just a fuck?” Lara’s voice was higher than
usual, stressed, a mixture of a whisper and a sob. She stepped
forward from the shadows where she had been hiding, her face twisted
in grief, her brown eyes brimming with tears and accusations. The
light from the window was not bright, but it was enough to
illuminate the sheer fabric of her sleeping gown, turning it into
little more than a nimbus, a mild blur over her flesh beneath. She
took her place in front of him and folded her long, pale arms over
her swollen belly, waiting for him to answer.

She is so different from
Kariana. Thicker, taller, stronger.
Even their features were at odds: Lara’s were solid and broad,
where Kariana was pointed and delicate. Lara’s hips alone made
her the better choice in a wife, but she was superior in every way.
And we dare call ourselves nobles. We have it backward.
The commoners are more fit.

Aiul stared at her for long
moments, his jaw locked in place, his mind struggling to maintain
cohesion as it was pulled this way and that by conflicting emotions
and irreconcilable duties. As a lover, his eyes caressed the curves
of her body in erotic and devoted appreciation. As a father to be,
he felt giddy with pride to see the swelling of her belly, to know
that his child would soon draw its first breath. As a doctor, he
unconsciously scanned her for abnormalities, and noted with
satisfaction that all appeared to be going well with the pregnancy.
But as protector and defender of his wife and unborn child, he felt
bile rising in his throat. He could lie, and likely she would even
believe him, but it would fester. Lies always did. They created
barriers, ever widening gaps that should not exist between two
people trying to live as one.

As a doctor, he knew that a
surgical scar was preferable to death, but as a husband, he could
not bear to watch as he made the incision. He turned back to the
window and looked out over the city as he spoke.

“It is neither. But there
are things I have kept from you. It is difficult, so please, just
listen until I am done. Will you do that?”

“Yes,” she
whispered, almost choking on the word.

He told it mechanically, a
recitation of facts rather than a confession, history rather than
drama. He imagined it would be easier for her, but in the end, it
seemed to have simply made things worse.

She waited long in silence,
weeping softly, until she was certain he was done. “What is it
you expect of me? What am I supposed to do? Just bear the
humiliation in silence, paint on a smile and pretend my husband
hasn’t betrayed me? Like a good noblewoman?”

Aiul turned to her, frowning.
“It is not betrayal to go along with a tradition hundreds of
years old.”

Her face was red, her eyes
bloodshot from sobbing. “Then why did you hide it from me?”
she cried.

“To spare you this. I
knew you would not understand.”

Lara buried her face in her
hands and said nothing for long moments, simply shook with sobs she
was trying to silence. At last, she looked up again, fury in her
eyes.

“I spoke to my mother
about it, when I first noticed. She took your side. ‘He’s
a man, Lara,’ she said. ‘Men have weaknesses we have to
accommodate in return for their strengths.’” She spat at
the floor. “I thought you were different, Aiul, but you’re
just like my father, my brothers, like every man I ever knew!”

Aiul ground his teeth and bit
back a retort. She could not understand, and did not deserve his
wrath. It was not her way, and it was unfair of him to expect her to
cast aside her own traditions in favor of his without time to adjust
and accept. He had chosen this. He would find a way to bridge the
gap. “Go to bed, Lara,” he told her. “We’re
both exhausted. Things always seem harder to cope with when you’re
tired.”

She nodded and dried her tears
with the sleeve of her gown. “And you? Will you sleep? With
me?”

Aiul shook his head. “I
doubt I will sleep at all this night.” He drained his glass,
then reached for the bottle of whiskey again and turned back toward
the window.

Lara snorted. “Feeling
too guilty?”

He looked at her again, feeling
haggard. “Not in the way you imagine. If only I could be
guilty of something so small as cheating on my wife.” He
refilled the glass and sipped at the liquor. “I am much
worse,” he said. He turned back to the view of the city and
stared out once again. “I am a murderer now.”

Caelwen stood outside the
prison, armed and armored, watching the great iron doors that sealed
the entrance. The empress preferred to believe she was alone, but
what she didn’t know in this case would not only not hurt her,
but likely keep her alive. The undercity streets were dangerous, and
it was his duty to protect her.

The whole area was an
embarrassment for most of those who lived on the hills, something
they ignored as much as possible. Some had likely even forgotten it
existed. While it was technically the very heart of Nihlos, it was
now the domain of the commoners, and with commoners came crime and
violence. Once, when Nihlos was younger, the Nobles had walked
freely here, unafraid.
Of course half of them were Meites at the
time.
Caelwen was uncertain
which was a worse plague, commoners or sorcerers. Both were sources
of chaos that made life more difficult for anyone charged with
maintaining order.

In
the end it hardly mattered. This was his reality, and it was best
simply to deal with that, rather than waste mental energy imagining
‘what if’.
The reality was that Nihlos was
permanently divided between those on the ground and those in the
sky. Most of the lower entrances to the great towers had been sealed
long ago, leaving access only by the bridges above. There were
entire networks of roads in the spans between buildings, and the
roads below lay forgotten and in disrepair. It was only natural that
the prison entrance was here; this was where the criminals were.

Caelwen knew what they were up
to in there, and counted it despicable, but he had no power to
change it. He could only watch, and wait.

At last, the iron doors swung
open, and a tall, hooded figure departed, moving quickly.
What is
his hurry, I wonder?

It
was another half hour before a second, smaller hooded figure exited
the prison.
She was addled, weaving in a drunken stupor as
she made her way along the darkened, littered street. With a sigh,
he fell in behind her at a discreet distance.

She could have ascended to
safer levels simply by climbing within the walls of the prison,
avoiding trouble altogether, but she had taken it into her head that
this must all be played like some cloak and dagger farce, which led
to her wandering these dangerous streets alone.
You are damned
fortunate I take my duty seriously, Empress.
It
was the better part of a mile to the nearest public access to upper
levels. Guards would be posted there to keep the rabble out, but
between here and there, he was her only defender.

As he expected, she quickly
drew unsavory attention. A dirty, grinning fool stroked his beard,
then drew his weapon and set in behind her. Caelwen dispatched the
man quietly with a single thrust of his blade, pleased with himself
that he drew no attention whatsoever. Not that even an explosion
would have necessarily gotten through to Kariana, but the man might
have had companions who would come running had he cried out.

A troublesome thought buzzed in
his mind like an insect. Perhaps it would be better if she
were
to fall victim to some wretch. Nihlos would be better served with a
competent ruler, would it not? Perhaps it would serve some higher
duty if he simply let her go on her way alone.

He cursed himself for such
weakness, that such things even occurred to him. It was excuse
making, shirking of duty for personal reasons. Perhaps Nihlos would
be better off, but it was not for him to say. Wishing her dead was
nothing noble. It was simply a personal hatred, a deep disgust with
her. It was shameful for a soldier to think of such treachery.

Duty demanded he follow her,
protect her, even die for her if need be. But love her, even like
her? Duty asked nothing there, save that he hold his tongue.

Narelki had just begun to
undress when there came a knock upon her private chamber door. She
sighed, and called out in a stern voice, “What do you want?”

Slat’s voice, muffled by
the door, called back, “A visitor, mistress.”

Narelki scowled in annoyance,
and immediately regretted it. Her face scowled back at her from her
vanity mirror, showing far too many lines. It was considerably
better when she showed no expression at all. “Send them away.
It is late.”

Slat persisted, his voice
strained. “Madam, it is the
Empress
.”

Narelki frowned at this news,
and saw more wrinkles at the corners of her mouth.
Mei! This
can’t be good.
She forced the frown away with some effort,
banishing the wrinkles for the moment.
They will return soon
enough.
“See that she is comfortable in the library and
tell her I will be out shortly.”

“It will be so, madam.”

Narelki sighed and began
dressing again, thankful that her hair was still proper. The timing
was a nuisance, but it could have been worse. She checked her
appearance in the mirror one last time, then, satisfied, made her
way toward the library, her mind filled with questions about what
might have led to this unannounced visit.

Nothing she imagined compared
to the truth. Kariana was a wreck.
What is she wearing? It looks
like something Aiul would use for surgery.
The empress
was slouched over the arm of the couch in a most
undignified pose, covered in blood and sobbing.
Has she been
raped?

Slat stood by, stiff necked and
obviously irritated. Narelki was pleased to see he had, as usual,
thought ahead, and had covered the couch with a sheet. “She is
quite inconsolable, Mistress. I can offer her no comfort. She only
spoke once, when she asked for you.”

Narelki waved him away. “Leave
us.” Slat moved to obey, but she changed her mind. “Wait.
Bring water. And liquor.”

“What sort?”

“I don’t care. Just
do it quickly.”

Slat nodded and went to do as
he was bid, and Narelki turned to her visitor. “If it is
something you would not speak of in front of a man, he is gone.”

Kariana opened her mouth to
speak, but choked on the words as she sobbed. She blew her nose into
a rag she held clutched in her hand.
Please keep any bodily
fluids to yourself!

Narelki
was uncertain which was more revolting, the filth or the wretched
weakness.
“Stop this mewling and tell me what has
happened,” she commanded. “Were you raped?”

Kariana shook her head. No.

“Robbed, then?”

Again, no.

“And you still don’t
see fit to vocalize your problem? Has your tongue been torn out, or
are you really this pathetic?”

That seemed to have the desired
result. Kariana’s eyes flashed with rage, and she slurred,
“It’s your son who’s pathetic!”

Narelki blinked in confusion
momentarily, struggling not to reveal her shock. Aiul? What the hell
could she mean? And at any rate, the problem was clearly drunkenness
and not assault. “You’re wasting my time. If you have
something to say, then say it or I shall return to bed.”

“Wretched hag!”
Kariana cried. “I am
empress
!
You dismiss me like a whore?”

Narelki felt the edges of her
lips tremble as she struggled against laughing out loud, but she
managed to keep her face fairly serene. “Really, dear, you
are
quite the little whore. I should think you would be used to it by
now.”

“I’ll kill you for
talking to me like that!”

That was simply too much. The
laughter burst forth from Narelki’s lips, a series of cruel
barks with no real humor. “You are welcome to try any time you
like,
child
,
”
Narelki told her, her words hard and flat as the edge of a blade.
Kariana quailed, the fire in her eyes fading as if doused by cold
water, replaced by fear.
As it should be.

Narelki pursed her lips in
disdain.
She’s as bad as Aiul, though much easier to
intimidate
. “Is this really what you came here to talk
about? It matters not a whit to me who you fuck. I’m hardly
likely to marry you. Not that anyone else is, either.”

That got to her.
Kariana
began to bawl again. “He’s already told you and you mock
me!”

Narelki raised eye eyebrow,
allowing her surprise to show just a bit, to demonstrate her
honesty. “No one has told me anything. And as for mocking you,
House Amrath has ever given true, honest counsel to House Tasinal.
Calm yourself and explain.” She clapped her hands and looked
about in annoyance. “Slat! Where are you?”

The old slave opened the
library door and entered immediately. “Awaiting your call,
madam.”

Narelki nodded approval. “Serve
us and leave again, please. I’ll call for you if I need you.”

Once Slat had closed the doors
behind him once again, Narelki turned an icy stare upon Kariana.
“You have something to steel your nerves. Get on with it.”

Kariana swigged vodka,
grimaced, and cast her eyes down in shame. “I offered him
everything.” She turned pleading eyes toward Narelki.
“
Everything
!
And he turned me away.”