Authors: John Marco
The Eyes of God (26 page)
“Then he will have his cause,” said Hogon. “I agree with Baron Glass. We must act.”
“But I don’t want to provoke a war,” said Akeela.
“You already have,” said Glass sharply. “Face it, King Akeela. And if I may say so, I think it’s time to halt construction of your library. It’s too expensive. We can’t afford to bleed our treasury with war on the cusp.”
“The library?” Akeela was aghast. “Oh, no. That’s out of the question.”
“Please, King Akeela,” Glass implored. “War may be coming. Don’t continue with this folly—”
“It isn’t folly!” sneered Akeela. He felt Lukien’s hidden hand on his leg, coaxing him down, but he stood up anyway. “I won’t let you use this trouble with Norvor as an excuse to stop the library. The monies have already been allocated. Isn’t that right, Sark?”
Chancellor Sark, who had been listening with varied interest, now froze under the king’s glare. “My lord?”
“The money for the library, man,” said Akeela. “It’s all been allocated, right?”
Sark grimaced. “Well, yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“Akeela, be easy,” whispered Lukien. Akeela ignored him.
“Chancellor, does the Treasury have the money or not?”
“Not if war comes, my lord, no,” said Sark. “I’m sorry, but your library is very expensive.”
Glass smiled. “And so is paying for a war. King Akeela, I beg you to listen to reason.”
But Akeela couldn’t listen. All around him were enemies.
“We will build the library,” he declared. “And we will not provoke a war with Mor. I didn’t make peace with Reec just so we can battle Norvor.”
“So?” pressed Glass. “What’s your plan, then?”
“We wait,” said Akeela. “Mor may be bluffing, and I don’t want bloodshed if it can be avoided.”
Baron Glass sighed with disgust. “You’re just protecting your library.”
“No,” Akeela shot back. “I’m trying to protect lives. Apparently that means nothing to war-mongers like you, Baron.”
Rising from his seat, Glass said, “That is a terrible thing to say to me, King Akeela.”
“If you’re standing for an apology you’ll have a long wait,” said Akeela. “Sit down, Baron. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
Glass’ eyes shifted around the room, now engulfed in charged silence. Chancellor Hogon reached out and grabbed Glass’ sleeve, gently drawing him back into his chair. It was not going at all as Akeela had hoped, but suddenly he didn’t care any more. He was king, and he demanded respect.
“Now listen to me, all of you,” he said. “We’re not going to match Mor’s troop movements, and we’re not going to break the treaty with Reec.” His eyes widened dramatically. “And we’re absolutely not going to stop building my library. Do you understand?”
The chancellors and their underlings gave non-committal nods—all except for Glass.
“And what of Norvor?” asked the baron. “Will you just ignore them?”
“I will deal with Norvor if and when the time comes.” Akeela pushed back his chair and started out of the council chamber. “That is all.”
Out in the fresh air of the hall, Akeela caught his breath. His hands were shaking and his mouth was dry and he could hear the disparate voices of the chancellors still in the chamber. Akeela licked his lips, suffocated with panic. He stalked off without thinking, not waiting for Lukien or the others. Lukien caught up to him within a few strides.
“Akeela,” he called. “Are you all right?”
Akeela paused, his head swimming. “They oppose me, Lukien. Everything I do, they question!”
“They’re just concerned,” Lukien said. He smiled warmly. “We all are.”
Akeela returned his comrade’s grin. Good Lukien, the only one Akeela knew he could trust. He put a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “It’s wonderful to see you,” he said. “The only friendly face in this whole damn city.”
By the next morning, Akeela’s temper had quieted. He had spent the night with Cassandra and had breakfasted with Graig, going over small matters that required his attention. Since they were easily dealt with, Akeela felt accomplished after the meal. He was refreshed from a good night’s sleep and his anger at Baron Glass had subsided, at least temporarily. Because he had been gone from Lionkeep so long, he decided to visit with Beith and see how her new baby was faring. Little Gilwyn was now almost three months old, and Akeela had heard from Gwena that he was growing well, showing no signs of the mind damage they all had feared. His hand and foot were still clubbed, but according to Gwena he was a happy child, and that pleased Akeela.
Beith’s room was in the servants’ area, so Akeela left Graig after breakfast and headed for her chambers. But he hadn’t gone far before he saw Trager, patiently waiting for him at the end of the hall. Suddenly he remembered his promise to the lieutenant, one that he’d forgotten in yesterday’s rage. Trager smiled at him from across the hall. Like yesterday, the hall was empty. Akeela realized with discomfort that Trager had planned it that way.
“Will, I’m sorry,” he offered. “I forgot you wanted to speak to me.”
“No matter, my lord, it could keep until today.” Trager glanced around. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”
“Private?” asked Akeela. “Is it so important?”
“Oh, it is,” Trager assured him. “I’m sorry to say so, but I think it will trouble you.”
“Why am I not surprised? Very well; we can talk in my study.”
Akeela led Trager in the opposite direction of Beith’s rooms, promising himself he’d check on her and the baby later. Trager’s expression was earnest enough to worry Akeela. The lieutenant said nothing as they walked through the halls, but he scanned every face they passed, apparently worried about being seen. Finally, when they reached Akeela’s small study, Trager spoke.
“Thank you for seeing me, Akeela,” he said as he entered the room.
Akeela bristled the way he always did when Trager addressed him in the familiar. They went back a long way, but they had never really been friends. Akeela wondered if Trager considered him one now. Or was he trying to become a friend?
“It’s all right,” he said. He directed Trager to a well-worn leather chair. “Sit down.”
“Thank you.” Trager took the chair and sighed. He shook his head as if not knowing where to begin. Akeela sat down on the edge of his desk, facing Trager. There was something insincere about the man’s expression.
“You’re troubled?” Akeela asked.
Trager nodded. “My news is heavy.”
“Tell me,” Akeela insisted.
“It’s about . . . the queen.”
“Cassandra?” Akeela stood up. “What about her?”
“My lord, it pains me to tell you this . . .”
“Tell me!”
“She has been . . .” Trager grimaced. “. . . unfaithful to you.”
It was as if Akeela hadn’t heard the word. It hung in the air, out of reach and understanding.
“What?”
Trager looked heartbroken. “I’m sorry, Akeela, but it’s true. While you were gone she was with another man. I saw them.”
“That’s impossible!” Akeela cried. “She wouldn’t dare betray me like that. Tell me what you saw!”
“It was in the apple orchard, not even a week ago,” said Trager. “It was very early and I was in the orchard, practicing my jousting. That’s when I saw her.” He looked away. “With her paramour.”
“What paramour?” asked Akeela. “Did you see him?”
“Yes,” said Trager. “Akeela, it was Lukien.”
The name fell on Akeela like a hammer. He staggered back against his desk, strangled with disbelief.
“No,” he said desperately. “No, I don’t believe it. You lie!”
“I saw them, Akeela. They were making love right before my eyes.”
Akeela shot forward and grabbed Trager’s lapels, pulling him from the chair. “How dare you speak of Lukien like that. And the queen!”
“It’s the truth!” Trager spat. “Akeela, I swear it . . .”
“Do not address me in the familiar, you rat! I am your king!”
“Forgive me,” cried Trager. He took Akeela’s hands, prying them from his clothes. “But you had to know the truth.”
Akeela shook his head wildly. “It’s not the truth. You’ve always hated Lukien. You’d do anything to ruin him!” He released Trager, shoving him backward. Trager fell over his chair and sprawled onto the floor. Akeela stalked after him. “I won’t believe your lies. And don’t you ever speak them again. If you do, I’ll kill you.”
Trager’s eyes were wide. “It’s the truth,” he insisted. “I swear, I saw them!”
Enraged, Akeela kicked the writhing man. “Quiet!”
“Stop!” Trager pleaded. He crawled away, clutching at the chair for support as he struggled to get upright. “King Akeela—my lord—listen to me!”
“Your lies sicken me,” said Akeela. “Now get out of here. And don’t you ever speak such filth again. If I hear the smallest rumor about Cassandra, you’ll hang for it, I promise.”
Trager paused halfway to the door, his eyes fixed on Akeela. “You’re mad,” he hissed. “Truly mad.”
Akeela grabbed a book from his desk and flung it at Trager.
“Out!”
“Out!”
Trager left, slamming the door after him. Akeela fell against his desk, nearly collapsing. He felt sick suddenly, about to retch, but he swallowed it down and caught his breath. His heartbeat exploded in his temples, and all around him the room seemed to swim with color, until he could no longer stand. Clumsily he reached for the chair Trager had toppled and sat down. Everything was happening too fast—the battles with Glass, the coming war with Norvor, everything. And now this horrible accusation. Akeela closed his eyes, fearing he might weep. Trager’s charges were . . .
What? Unbelievable? Akeela had acted as if it were impossible, but inside something needled him. His little voice was speaking again. Cassandra and Lukien had been remarkably civil to each other since coming to Koth. More than civil, really. Akeela hated to admit it, but part of him believed Trager’s tale.
“Cassandra . . . why?”
If there was an answer, Akeela didn’t know it. He felt remarkably alone.
“I’ll not hide from the truth,” he whispered. “Cassandra, I’ll find out if you’ve been unfaithful. And Lukien, if you’ve betrayed me . . .”
A rage like he’d never felt before rose up within him, making his heart pound and his temples quiver. He would not be made a fool of by Lukien or Cassandra or anyone, no matter how much he loved them. Akeela knew he had to discover the truth.
Somehow.
13
J
ust as Cassandra had predicted, she did not stop seeing Lukien. He was everywhere in Lionkeep, and on everybody’s lips, and because he was her champion he was impossible to ignore, accompanying her to every royal function, constantly by her side.
ust as Cassandra had predicted, she did not stop seeing Lukien. He was everywhere in Lionkeep, and on everybody’s lips, and because he was her champion he was impossible to ignore, accompanying her to every royal function, constantly by her side.
It was much the same with Akeela too, for Lukien had sway with the nobles of Koth and was useful to Akeela, who had need for influence in the House of Dukes now that Norvor was threatening. Cassandra attributed Akeela’s recent mood changes to the trouble with King Mor, because her husband had been distant and quiet since his return, and had never once asked her back to his bed. Truly, that was a relief for Cassandra, who now thought constantly of Lukien and his fiery touch, and who hated to compare Akeela’s sober lovemaking to that of her bronze champion. She stole every moment possible that she could with Lukien, though they were seldom alone, and when no one was looking she let him kiss her or whisper poetry in her ear, rhymes so bad that she had to fight against giggles. Since her first time with the Bronze Knight, Cassandra had discovered the remarkable lover within him, generous and patient, and skilled in bringing the woman out of her young, inexperienced body. What had started as a curious infatuation was now an inferno of love, and though she knew she risked everything by being with him, Cassandra could not stop herself. Or would not stop herself. She still didn’t know which was the truth.
But there was always the guilt. No matter how much love or pleasure she felt, remorse was her ever-present companion, and she lived in constant fear of being discovered. She did not fear for herself, though; she knew the weight of her crimes and accepted it. And she did not fear for Lukien, either, confident he could weather any disgrace. Rather she feared for Akeela, and what the discovery of her indiscretion would do to his fragile confidence. The world saw Akeela as good and kind, but they did not see the softness that made him so generous, and Cassandra knew how easily he could be broken.
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