Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3)

by R. J. Vickers

  I was counting on my father or Lord Jofran to come up with a better idea. Right now, our strategy amounted to reaching blindly into a river and hoping to come up with a fish rather than an eel.

  Across the room, Baridya and Mellicante spoke softly, though I caught snatches of what they were saying. Though I was exhausted, I could not sleep. I drifted on the edge of unconsciousness for a while, until my friends’ voices roused me once more.

  “…still can’t believe you would go into that place,” Baridya whispered.

  “I only went there to find Viko and see if he had information! You know that.”

  “Yes, but it’s not the first time you’ve been in there. I’ve been in my share of seedy taverns around the coast, but our crew wasn’t allowed to touch that one. It’s infamous for its addicts. It’s said to be the only reliable supplier of demon’s draught in Itrea.”

  Their voices were growing louder; I could not help but listen. I had never heard of demon’s draught—was it the bright green liquid I had seen a few glazed-eyed patrons drinking?

  “Does it matter whether I went there in the past? That was years ago.”

  “It’s just—the way you acted, it made me wonder if…”

  “What?”

  “If that’s what you’re really like, and the person you pretend to be in Baylore is just a mask.”

  “Are you saying I’m a liar and an addict?” Mellicante’s voice was hard.

  “No! Just that…I suddenly feel like I don’t actually know you. It’s been spans, and I still have no idea what your life is like outside Baylore.”

  “The way I acted in Baylore—that was real. I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

  “But this is real too. You’ve obviously been tangled up with the worst sort of people before, and I don’t know if you would go down that road again.”

  “Kalleah asked me to serve as her advisor because of my questionable past. I thought you knew that. I never want to get dragged into that again, but I thought you cared for me regardless.”

  “I do.” Baridya’s voice wavered. “I just—”

  “I’m still the same person. I promise. I didn’t want to tell you everything, because I didn’t know how you’d take it, but I won’t change just because we’ve left Baylore.”

  Baridya was silent. I felt guilty listening in on their conversation, but I was too intrigued to drag the pillow over my ears and give them privacy.

  “Would you tell me how you got mixed up with that tavern?” Baridya whispered eventually. “I’d like to know the truth, even if I don’t like it.”

  “I guess that’s the least painful way.” Mellicante’s voice was hard. “That way I won’t have to worry about you running off when the truth comes out years from now. You can end things now, if you want.”

  “That’s not—”

  “I understand. I do.” Mellicante sighed. “I was twelve when I ran away from home. My parents still live in Baylore, and I haven’t seen them since. I left a note a few years ago to let them know I’m alive, but I don’t want anything to do with them. They could never accept me. I walked to Larkhaven alone, begging food off the merchants I passed and sleeping in farm fields. I would’ve been better off joining a caravan, but I was afraid the merchants would drag me back to my parents when they saw how young I was.

  “When I reached Larkhaven, it was nearly winter. I’d had grand dreams of becoming a sailor or a merchant, but no one would look twice at me—I was too young and too ragged. I slept on the streets and stole food until it got too cold, and then begged the taverns and inns for a bed. None of them were willing to help out a beggar. I finally went to the Wolf’s Den—the tavern we visited today—and they took pity on me. They realized I was a girl, and I think they planned to sell my body once I was old enough.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “Cleaned the privy, served customers…and smuggled demon’s draught to Baylore. They put me with a different merchant crew every time and told them the sad story of how I had run off and was now desperate to return to my parents. I loaded my trunk with bottles of the stuff, and when I arrived, the merchants dropped me off at the same inn near the city gates each time. The owner pretended he was my father—he was responsible for all demon’s draught sold in Baylore. He gave me a fortune in varlins, including a nice cut for myself, and arranged a different caravan back to Larkhaven. I did the trip twenty or thirty times before the end.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “I didn’t fully understand what I was doing. I didn’t realize the consequences of getting caught would be a lifetime in prison. Demon’s draught is rare in Baylore—I’d never heard of it before I reached Larkhaven, so I hadn’t heard the awful stories of addiction you’ve probably known about since childhood. I was always glad to escape that awful tavern, to spend time on the road again, and it all seemed like a bit of a game.”

  “When did you meet Viko?”

  Mellicante sighed. “It was winter one year, when trade slowed down and I spent three spans trapped in the Wolf’s Den. I liked to wander the harbor, pretending I was a wealthy captain in the market for her next ship, and I ran into him there.”

  “I wonder if we crossed paths before without realizing it,” Baridya murmured. “I wouldn’t have looked twice at you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And Viko?”

  “We got along immediately. Both of us dreamed of becoming merchants, and both of us felt stifled by our parents. But Viko was from a wealthy family, and he already had an apprenticeship lined up with Dellik.”

  “Sweet seducer.” Baridya let out a soft breath. “I never would’ve guessed his family had money.”

  “I know. Anyway, he managed to set me up with an apprenticeship as well. I still lived in the Wolf’s Den, but Dellik didn’t know that, and I didn’t have to work at the tavern any longer—I could pay my way with the wages I earned. Only…Viko started hanging around the tavern outside of work. Partly that was to escape his family, and partly it was to spend time with me.”

  “Were you lovers?”

  “No! How many times do I have to tell you?” Mellicante hissed. “I’m not interested in men. Viko knew that too. But he’d never gotten along with the sort of friends his parents tried to introduce him to, so I was the first person he could actually talk to without worrying about appearances.

  “Only…you can imagine what happens when you spend too much time in a place like that. We were a curiosity, two innocent fifteen-year-olds who had no business hanging around in the Wolf’s Den. The regular patrons made a game of seeing if they could corrupt us—they’d buy us drinks until we ended up passed out on the floor, and Viko’s parents would get furious when he didn’t turn up at night. The whores would all flirt shamelessly with us, especially in winter when there was hardly any business from the docks. We both lost our virginity to them in the end. And eventually we were persuaded to try demon’s draught.

  “I got violently ill, so I never touched it again. But Viko…”

  “They say just one taste can trap you for life,” Baridya whispered.

  Mellicante sighed. “He only had it three other times that I saw. But he must’ve been addicted already, because he started acting differently. Missing work, no longer interested in meeting me at the tavern, wearing the same clothes several days in a row. I had an inkling what was happening, and it killed me to think I was responsible. If he had never met me, he would’ve lived a good life. A bloody good life.”

  Mellicante’s voice was choked, which startled me—I had never seen her grow emotional, even confronted with a dead body.

  “Spans passed before I said anything about it. Eventually Dellik pulled me aside and asked if I knew what was wrong with Viko. He was looking a mess by that point, dark circles under his eyes, his clothes always rumpled and stained. I told her that I’d been living in the Wolf’s Den, and that Viko had gotten tangled up with demon’s draught there. She immediately offered me a place to live at her house, which I
took gladly.

  “When we confronted Viko, he confessed his family had kicked him out and he’d been sleeping on the streets for the past span. Dellik gave him a place to live as well, and he promised he’d clean up and make her proud.

  “But it’s not that easy.

  “Again and again, Viko wound up right back where he’d started, and each time, Dellik gave him another chance. Then one day, she caught him stealing from her safe, and she kicked him out for good. By this point, I was starting my own business trading rare spices, and I had already bought my own house in town and lined up a merchant caravan to work for me. I think I was nineteen. I traveled to Baylore to spend half the year setting up the other end of my business, and when I returned, Dellik said Viko was living in the Wolf’s Den, doing who knew what. I passed by and saw him through the window, but when I realized he was working as a whore, I couldn’t face him. I was the one who had driven him to that, and I couldn’t look him in the eye knowing I had ruined his life. Today was the first time I’ve seen him since he got kicked out of Dellik’s place all those years ago. It’s been seven years, and he’s still trapped in that Varse-damned hole. Because of me.”

  Mellicante sniffed, and from the rustling sheets, I imagined Baridya was comforting her.

  Plagues. I’d known Mellicante came from a rougher background, but I hadn’t imagined this. Hearing the truth only made me admire her more. And Viko’s situation tugged at my heart—I wanted to do what I could for him, to help give him direction again. Now that I knew the truth, certain small details of his appearance took on a graver meaning. The faint shadows under his eyes, the way his hands shook when he did up his buttons, the stain on his sleeve. He was still trapped.

  “Mellicante,” Baridya said softly, “I don’t—”

  Just then, a fist hammered at the front door.

  I bolted upright, the blankets sliding off my shoulders. Who would be calling this late at night?

  The fierce rapping rang out again, and I scrambled to my feet. Had someone followed us to Dellik’s house?

  Shouts came from outside, the voices muffled.

  We had to get out.

  8

  The Governor’s Estate

  C ursing under her breath, Baridya threw everything into her pack while I struggled into the coat I had discarded. We dashed into the entrance hall, where the knocking rang out louder than ever, and nearly collided with Quendon.

  “What’s happening?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know, but I think someone might have followed us here,” I said tightly. My heart pounded against my ribs.

  “Oh, hurry up!” Mellicante snapped at Baridya, who was still wrestling with her pack.

  Tugging on my muddy boots, I ran up the stairs two at a time and found Dellik waiting for us, her face illuminated in the light from a Weavers’ lamp.

  “You need to get out of here,” she said hoarsely. “I’ve opened the kitchen window. You can climb out and cut up the garden right behind my place. The owners of that house won’t notice. Head to Lord Jofran’s estate and see what the plagues he’s doing abandoning us all.”

  “Won’t you come with us?” Mellicante asked.

  “If I don’t answer that door, whoever’s knocking will try to track me down. I’ll make up a story to turn their attention away from you. It’s for the best.”

  “Look for us once it’s safer, then,” Mellicante said. “I’ll get in touch if I can. And could you speak to Viko? It—” She cleared her throat. “It would mean a lot to me.”

  Dellik sighed. “I’ll do what I can. But go! Get out of here!”

  She gave Mellicante a shove in the direction of her kitchen and started down the stairs. Whoever was outside had started rattling the door so violently I expected the handle to break off.

  Clustering into the kitchen, we skirted around a table to peer out the window. Even though we were on the second floor, the slope of the hillside had risen to meet the window—grass grew within arm’s reach below the sill.

  “Go on,” Mellicante said. While Baridya clambered over the sill and onto the narrow patch of grass outside, Mellicante rummaged through a drawer and shoved a pair of long, thin knives into her belt.

  Downstairs, the knocking ceased abruptly. Dellik must have opened the door. Aggressive male voices rose from the entryway, and I caught snatches of what they were saying.

  “…four people who matched the description of a party traveling illegally from Baylore…”

  “…harboring fugitives…”

  I stood rooted to the spot. How had they figured it out?

  Mellicante gave me an impatient prod, so I stumbled after Baridya, heart racing as I climbed clumsily out the window. The sky was black with clouds, but a distant streetlight shone from above the house behind Dellik’s, easing the darkness.

  Once Mellicante and Quendon joined us on the strip of grass, I pushed the windowpanes closed behind us.

  “Go, go!” Mellicante snapped.

  We broke into a jog up the strip of grass that bordered the house above Mellicante’s. The hill rose steeply, and I slipped twice on the slick grass, but when we reached the front of the house, the narrow slot between houses opened onto a flat cobblestone road that followed the curve of the harbor.

  “Slowly now,” Mellicante said. “Don’t attract attention.”

  Though I itched to keep running, I slowed to a walk, my breathing loud in my ears.

  We strode along the street toward the main road, Mellicante’s hand on the knife in her belt, all four of us walking in a tight clump. My pulse raced, and my eyes darted from side to side, alert for any sign of ambush.

  But the streets were silent. We reached the main road without incident and followed it as it sloped up to the edge of town. Cobblestones were replaced by dirt, and the last of the houses dropped away as the road leveled out atop the hill.

  As the lamplight faded, Baridya lit the Weavers’ crystal Dakolth had given us. She held it cupped in her hands to prevent the light from spilling too far; it cast a faint glow on the road, just enough to show us the way.

  I broke into a jog, fear propelling me forward. Though I did not look back, I could hear from my friends’ footsteps that they were keeping pace behind me.

  “Do you know where the governor’s estate is?” Mellicante called softly after me.

  “No.”

  “It’s half a league south of Larkhaven,” Baridya panted, “near a cliff overlooking the sea.”

  “Are we going to run for half a league, then?”

  I slowed, my heartbeat still pounding in my chest. “Sorry.” Glancing back, I realized Quendon had fallen behind, his limp pronounced. “It’s just—how did they figure out we had come from Baylore? Do they know who I am?”

  “If they figured out who you were, they would have arrested us right in that tavern,” Mellicante said. “Someone must have sent word that a group of travelers managed to escape the patrols at the forest edge, and they’ve been watching for us. I suppose they’re wary of anyone willing to put their lives at risk to travel between the cities.”

  “And rightly so,” Baridya muttered. “No ordinary merchants would’ve put themselves through what we did to get here.”

  As we walked, the wind picked up, and sharp raindrops began to graze our cheeks. We had no oilskin cloaks to shelter us from the rain, nor bedrolls to retreat into. We had to keep going and hope the governor would grant us shelter.

  Mellicante and Baridya strode ahead, the light from Baridya’s crystal silhouetting their heads. I could hear their voices, at times heated, but I could not make out what they were saying. I wondered if they were still discussing everything Mellicante had revealed. Eventually Baridya stalked out ahead and Mellicante hung back, falling in step beside me without speaking. With Baridya’s light bobbing so far ahead, we had to trust the road was smooth and would not trip us.

  The rain fell harder than before, the drops soaking my hair and coat. Gusts of wind buffeted me, driving rain against
my legs and drenching my breeches. I could even feel water pooling inside my boots.

  I wanted to say something to Mellicante, but I could not find the right words. I wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse for me to admit I had heard what she said to Baridya.

  At last I ventured, “Mellicante, I—I would like to help Viko, if we can. I’d like to recruit him for our army. It will mean food and a place to sleep, at the very least.”

  “Did you hear everything I said earlier?” she asked tightly.

  “Sorry.”

  Mellicante let out a breath through her teeth.

  “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m still honored to have your support—and your friendship. It’s a mark of your character that you were able to come out of such an awful experience and build a successful career.”

  “I wish Baridya felt the same way.”

  “Has she pushed you away?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say she needs a bit of time to come to terms with it all.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, a fierce gust of wind tearing my words away.

  “I don’t need your pity.” Mellicante paused. “But I’m glad you aren’t about to turn me away.”

  We walked on, the rain slowly drenching us. It was obvious Mellicante did not like talking about her feelings—in fact, she seemed content to pretend she was emotionless most of the time—so I could sense how much tonight had wounded her. She had finally exposed her deepest vulnerabilities, her long-buried pain, and Baridya had turned away from her.

  I said nothing further. I could sense that quiet companionship was what Mellicante needed right now, not talk.

  Eventually a light broke through the sheets of rain ahead. The glow illuminated a white stone wall that must have belonged to a towering structure; a dark archway beneath marked the doorway.

  “That must be his estate,” Mellicante said.

  Suddenly, Baridya’s light went out.

  “Bridg?” Mellicante called softly.

  We crept forward, unable to see anything but the distant light, the ground slick underfoot from the rain.