The Twelve Kingdoms (9 page)

“Ah.” He nodded as if I'd confirmed something. “But I have a great deal to prove to you—that I and my men are both capable and trustworthy.”

“Both of which are impossible to prove definitively.”

“You would not get past my guard so easily.”

“We'll never find out,” I replied easily. “Unless you do fail me if it comes to the real thing, in which case you'd be dead before you had a chance to guard yourself.”

“You're so certain you could best me?”

“Not at all.” I let him see me scan his bulk. “I have as healthy a respect for your strength as you do for my speed. My best odds with a fighter like you lie in taking you by surprise.”

“You already have, Your Highness.” The warmth of his tone sent an unaccustomed flutter through me, and I looked away, deciding it was irritation.

“I must be going. I'm afraid I have several appointments more to keep before court. Good-bye, Captain.”

“You could call me by my name. It's Harlan.”

“I know what it is.”

“And you have no intention of using it.”

Without bothering to reply, I saluted my Hawks and headed for the castle. I began to see how the mercenary captain had succeeded so well in his profession. He was nothing if not dogged.

T
he man irritated me no end with whatever game he played. No hired mercenary should have an agenda, but he certainly did. A spy for one of the Twelve? Or, a more daunting possibility, for the Dasnarians or some other foreign power, eyeing our state of unrest as an opportunity to step in and annex us to another empire. He thought to manipulate me, to make me question the King by insinuating I'd been mistreated.

That was what came of the mercenary lifestyle. He could not understand true loyalty. Nothing could shake my faith in the High Throne. If I couldn't hold on to at least that much, I didn't deserve to be heir. And him, making all those flirtatious comments, egging me on to spar with him. If he thought me an easy mark, he'd find his man wasn't the only one to make a grave error in underestimating us.

Yet I found my black mood had dissipated somewhat and I felt more clearheaded. The tea kicking in, no doubt. I swung by my chambers to gulp down some more from the teapot Dafne had thoughtfully left for me, and clapped some mostly melted ice from the insulated bucket on my throbbing face. Marskal hadn't held back. As well he shouldn't have. If the Dasnarian knew anything about true loyalty, he'd have understood that.

A little more than an hour past sunrise still and the castle mostly quiet, this would be the perfect time to check Andi's rooms. Taking my ring of chatelaine's keys—the set I'd acquired upon Salena's death, along with her thrice-cursed jewels—I headed up the tower to Andi's old rooms.

The lock resisted but then gave with a firm twist of the key, to my great satisfaction. The rooms sat oddly silent, dim and covered in dust. Clearly no one had been in here since the servants packed in the books and draped the windows. I'd been preoccupied in those days after Andi fled Ordnung, disguised as one of Amelia and Hugh's entourage of servants. We'd had the aftermath of the Tala attack on the castle to deal with and prisoners to question. Though the Tala had retreated—withdrawing far too quickly and completely, it was clear in retrospect—we'd spent days chasing them through the countryside, clearing the forests of stragglers and ensuring the safety of both the townsfolk and the outlying farms.

They'd toyed with us, leaving just enough of them behind to entice us to believe they'd bought the ruse that Andi remained inside the castle. But they'd gone after her, following her to Windroven and laying siege before we even began assembling troops.

Uorsin's rage in those days had nearly driven us all over the edge.

The books and scrolls had been piled on every available surface and in stacks on the floor, with no apparent regard for order. Dafne would have quite a chore ahead of her, sorting through these. Something she could do far better than I, so I might as well get the key to her.

Nevertheless, I lingered a moment longer, for no good reason. Standing in front of the cold fireplace, I recalled that night I made Andi burn the feather she'd hidden. She'd been so angry at me, but I'd been angrier. And baffled at her disloyalty. The feather had come from Rayfe's bird form. I knew that now. Then, I understood only that something about the King of the Tala called to her, meant more to her than her loyalty to the High King. To me.

I missed Andi. Had started missing her at that moment.

Of course, even if she were here, she would have done her utmost to avoid court and would have failed to pay attention to most of what went on. Still, when she did pay attention, she had excellent insights. I could use that from her. Along with her company.

Shaking off the mood, I locked the door again and descended the steps to my own rooms. Dafne had returned and I undid the mechanism that kept the ring closed, removing the key to Andi's rooms.

“Don't lose this, librarian. I don't have to tell you to be circumspect, correct? Lock yourself in. Don't be seen coming and going. You'll find the books are all over the place. I'd like your impressions on court this morning, but you're probably better doing this while everyone is occupied.”

She tried not to look too appalled, but the thought of the rare documents in disarray bothered her. “Would you mind if I put them in order as I look?”

“As a secondary goal, that's fine. Priority is any and all information on the Dasnarians. Bring those here, if you can do so discreetly. As you've likely noted, my chambers are
not
a whirl of social activity.” Though, compared to Andi's abandoned ones, they were.

“Speaking of Dasnarians, Captain Harlan pulled me aside to ask about you.”

“Did he, now?” I'd known the man was up to no good. “What did he ask and what did you tell him?”

“You needn't interrogate me.” Dafne's tone was deliberately mild. “He mentioned that you'd taken a hit in practice with the Hawks earlier and wondered if it happened often.”

“And you said?”

“That, yes, like any soldier, you train hard and take your knocks.”

“Good answer.”

“I would not betray your secrets, Ursula.” She said this softly, threaded with meaning. Of course she saw more than she let on. A keen and discreet observer. I was fortunate to have her aid. Along with her discretion. A court like Ordnung's ran on a delicate balance of sensitivity and blind eyes. It would never do to imply the High King wasn't above the law, much like a force of nature. Everyone understood that. Or, if they didn't, suffered the consequences.

“Well handled—thank you.” I pulled off the practice clothes and sponged myself down.

“He also asked why you hadn't wed before your sisters and wasn't it traditional for the eldest to marry first.”

I made a noncommittal sound, though that was most interesting. Did he wonder about the order of succession? Perhaps he sought to discover more around the circumstances of Andi's defection to the Tala.

“I told him that it had been your choice not to marry.”

“True enough.”

“I didn't know if it bothers you, that Hugh fell in love with Amelia instead, so I did not reveal that he'd been your intended. Though I suppose it was common knowledge at the time.”

I pulled on a serviceable enough court gown—light green, but who cared?—and laughed. “Upset not to marry the golden prince? He was pretty enough, and a decent fighter, but no, we would not have matched well.” My mind, however, did not stick to those early days. Instead my hands remembered the heaviness of my blade cleaving Hugh's neck and the emptiness of his eyes staring up at the sky, as his blood stained the snow around him. Ami knew the truth of it now—that we had lied when we said that Andi killed him. Other than my Hawks, Dafne, and a few of Rayfe's men, no one else knew.

I'd killed other men and women in the course of battle, but none I regretted that way. If I had married Hugh as intended, and we'd stood on that pass together, with Andi throwing herself in front of Rayfe to thwart Hugh's sword—would I have acted the same way? Where would my loyalty have fallen then?

It didn't bear thinking about, because I hadn't thought then. Instinct, long honed after all these years of protecting my little sisters, had spurred me to act. Very possibly I could never do otherwise.

I made it to court before Uorsin. A mixed blessing in that it spared me that long walk down the center aisle under the King's scrutiny with the nerve-wracking puzzle of assessing his mood. Captain Harlan, however, had preceded me and stood to the right of my throne as he had the day before, applying his own watchful gaze.

Ignoring him, I stepped onto the dais. Then barely stopped from drawing my sword when he moved to take my hand to assist. Sliding the sword back in the hand's breadth I'd pulled it, I steadied myself by smoothing my thumb over the topaz in the hilt, while the mercenary held up his palms in a mock surrender that only served to point out my nerves.

“That should teach you to touch me without permission,” I told him under my breath as I sat.

“Simple courtesy. Your people practice the custom also, I've noted.”

“Not with me.”

“No. You stand and sit alone, don't you?”

“Don't make more of it than it is.” The courtiers and ambassadors mingled, having quiet conversations. Derodotur passed among them, gathering petition scrolls for him to order for the King's review.

“You have cold hands,” the mercenary commented, also looking out over the gathering crowd.

“Always have had.”

“In Dasnaria we have a saying—‘Cold hands, warm heart.' ”

I snorted quietly. “Which goes to prove that Dasnarians know nothing.”

“Or that we understand more than you realize.”

The Dasnarian woman entered the hall then, wearing that same cloak as if it weren't warm weather and us indoors. Even from this distance, her eyes burned like smoldering coals and a chill pricked the back of my neck. The topaz seemed to warm under my thumb, until I forced myself to take my hand away, lest it appear I contemplated drawing my blade against her. Which I did, but it was impolitic for anyone to know that.

“Illyria, Mistress of Deyrr,” the mercenary captain said, still speaking for my ears alone.

“One of your company? What is her specialty?”

“Not mine. She's no fighter, which you knew the moment you laid eyes on her.”

“Not true,” I countered. “With the archers and similar specialists it can be difficult to discern, until they take up their weapon of choice. They are still lethal, under the right circumstances.”

“She is dangerous all right, but not in the way you might think.”

The woman stared at us, giving me the uneasy impression that she listened to our conversation, though that should have been impossible. I'd learned better, from encounters with the Tala, to reclassify my definition of impossible.

“I'll explain more tonight.” The captain turned his face away from her to speak to me, warning clear in his gaze, as if he thought she eavesdropped, too.

“At dinner, yes, that will be fine. I often entertain informal audiences at that time.”

He laughed and shook his head. The herald trumpeted the arrival of the King and I turned all of my attention to the matters at hand.

Formal court dragged on without a break until well into the late afternoon. Many of the petitioners, I suspected, had awaited my return to approach the High Throne, in hopes that I might temper the King's rulings. In easier times, I had sometimes been able to. Not with things as they stood now.

The wisest, most experienced courtiers knew better than to bring forth any obviously contentious issues. The unwise quickly learned that lesson. Ambassador Laurenne had not attended court today, which spoke volumes. I was not the only one to carefully track Uorsin's temper and plan accordingly. We all most benefited from biding our time until he calmed or news arrived to alter the current tense situation.

Much as it pained me—for a number of the pleas were important, and denied due to the King's foul temper—I could not afford to appear to be in anything less than complete agreement with my father, on even the most minor of issues. Not that it appeased him. He seethed still, avoiding looking at me or addressing me directly.

Court ended with still no word of Amelia's party. A bad sign that neither Uorsin's spies nor my scouts had found any trace of them, something that deepened the restless dread tightening my spine and further infuriated Uorsin. His uncertain temper on top of my own fears pushed me closer to the edge of losing my equanimity. Ash was a largely unknown quantity to me—but he possessed Tala blood and tricks aplenty. He no doubt enabled them to evade us. They might even be inside Annfwn, as I knew Amelia had found her way past the barrier before. What worried me most was that they'd conceal themselves so well that I wouldn't be able to find them, should the worst occur.

Visions of those possible scenarios plagued my mind and made my heart race with the forced inaction.

Thus, I greeted the ultimate adjournment of court—and Uorsin's precipitous departure—with great relief. My back ached from sitting on the hard throne all day and I envied the mercenary in being able to stand. I'd barely stepped down from the dais, ignoring Captain Harlan's offer of assistance, when my fighting instincts roared to alert, warning me of attack.

My hand went to my sword, but I saw nothing.
Where was it?
The mercenary captain keyed in to my alert, tensing beside me. I followed his gaze to the seemingly serene glide of Illyria toward us.

“Your Highness.” The woman curtsied with perfect form but somehow made it mocking. She wore the dark cloak, a deeper red than dead blood, though the crowded hall had grown warm with too many bodies and late-day heat. Her fair hair, nearly a white blond, tumbled in glossy locks only shades darker than her white skin. Beautiful, except for those lusterless black eyes that she flicked at Captain Harlan in implicit demand.