"Are you ever going to talk?” Kaeliph asked when he couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “Where are we going?"
“Rindale,” Jovan sighed. “There’s a girl there who may be able to help us.”
Kaeliph’s face lit up. “A girl?” He ignored Jovan’s freezing glare – here was something to occupy his mind. “What’s she look like? What’s her name? Does she have a sister?”
The years apart had made Kaeliph forget that not only was his brother huge, he was fast. His experience in the Arena hadn’t slowed him, either. There was no time to duck when Jovan’s hand shot out and grabbed his ear. Kaeliph yelped, arching his body in an attempt to ease the pressure.
Jovan's dark, unsmiling eyes met his. “Kallisti is an irritating, calculating shrew. She is useful only because of your most recent adventure, which – in case you’ve forgotten – has left us unemployed, penniless, and homeless. Oh, and wanted for murder.” Jovan wrenched his brother’s ear for emphasis, and Kaeliph bit his lip, his cheeks red with shame.
“I can’t fix this if I can’t think,” Jovan said, “and I can’t do that with you making conversation.”
Jovan released his brother’s ear, shoving hard, and Kaeliph’s feet tangled together. He slipped in the mud from last night’s rain. He hit dirt, but didn't stay down.
“Watch it, these are my only clothes!”
Kaeliph pounced on Jovan’s back, grabbing a fistful of long black hair, and wrapped his other arm around his brother’s neck. Jovan reached back to pluck him off, but Kaeliph wasn’t about to let go.
“You had ... the … mourning … robe.” Jovan turned and dropped, pinning Kaeliph underneath him, pressing him deeper into the mud.
Kaeliph yanked hard on his brother’s loose ponytail, breaking the thin piece of leather that bound it, and kicked Jovan sharply in the knee with his free heel. He squeezed uselessly at his brother’s thick neck as he answered.
“It … was … hot!” Kaeliph grunted under Jovan’s weight, waiting until his brother took a breath to worm out from under him and drop a sharp elbow into his unprotected stomach. That drew a satisfying exhale, and Kaeliph dove, grabbing for his brother’s ear.
“You should have … stayed … home …” Jovan managed to dodge Kaeliph’s hands, and made a grab of his own for Kaeliph’s ribs. The younger man had always been hopelessly ticklish.
“What … and miss … this?” Kaeliph suddenly couldn’t stop laughing. He pulled at Jovan’s relentless fingers, howling. “That’s cheating!”
The wrestling continued, and Jovan’s laughter eventually joined with Kaeliph’s as they grappled in the mud. A few minutes later the two were walking once again— disheveled, but in better spirits.
Rain the next morning cleaned most of the dirt from their hair, and when they reached Rindale that evening, their clothes had dried to damp. A few words to the town watch led them to the shop of Kallisti’s father, where the blonde from Jovan’s memories was working.
“Jovan!” the girl squealed, running to embrace him on tiptoe. “It’s you!”
His embrace was stiff, no more than a balancing of her stretch, but Kallisti hardly noticed. She giggled as she looked Kaeliph over with an appreciative eye before turning back to Jovan.
“And who did you bring to my little village with you?” Jovan ignored the seductive slant of Kallisti’s mouth and glared at his brother over her head, wishing he could stare the smitten look off his face.
“This is Kaeliph,” Jovan said. “My brother. How have you been?” He was no master at social niceties, but it never mattered with Kallisti. She talked enough for everyone.
“This place is as slow as cold honey,” she pouted. “Or it was before you got here. Are you fighting? Of course you’re fighting, it wasn’t me that brought you here - as much as I’d like to think so. Is it because Duke Korith closed the Paltos arena? Nerrik went out to the one in Foley a few months ago. The Midlands Duke isn’t like Korith, he thought it would still be open. I would have gone with him, but Father's still furious that Nerrik brought me to Paltos the last time.”
Kallisti returned her full attention to Jovan, running one hand over the bunched muscles in his forearm. She suddenly remembered what had enticed her to stay in Paltos after Nerrik had gone. “Will you stay for awhile? Oh, but where? The Inn is full up, so many fighters from Paltos have come in for the fights this weekend. I guess our little Arena is the only one still open, for now, anyway. Wait, you knew that. Is it both of you fighting? I know the man with the lists, well, his sister anyway. I could—”
Jovan put a hand over the girl’s mouth, not ungentle, just to get a word in. The fights could prove useful.
“Let me explain,” he said. She pouted against his hand, blinking her violet eyes at him, but Jovan left his fingers on her lips. She didn’t protest. “Yes,” he told her. “I’ve come to fight. We need a place to stay, and some supplies. I have no coin, but I will repay you with the fight prize.”
Kallisti batted at Jovan’s wide hand, and he released her. She took his fingers in hers.
“Oh, that confidence.” Her voice was breathy, and she licked her lips with another dazzling smile. She held tight to Jovan’s hand as she turned her intense eyes to Kaeliph, who looked as if he had just stared at the sun. She brushed her shining blonde hair over her shoulder. “Are you fighting too?”
“He’s a fisherman,” Jovan said, trying to disentangle his fingers from hers.
Kaeliph glanced away from Kallisti long enough to send his brother a quick hateful glare that was flatly ignored. But the damage was done. Kallisti’s bright gaze dimmed, and her smile slipped a notch.
“Oh, a fisherman. How … interesting.” As quickly as that, she had dismissed Kaeliph and was drawing Jovan towards the door, ready to close up shop. “Father is so upset about Korith closing the Paltos arena, I know he’ll want to speak with you about it. You remember how much he loves the fights, I’m sure. Will you join us for dinner? Your brother as well, of course. Is it true the Duke burned the healers when he closed the Arena? We only had the one, and she left the moment she heard. Father will want to know everything…”
Kaeliph spent the next morning trying to pry the lovely Kallisti away from his brother. Jovan spent the same hours before the tournament started trying to escape her clinging grasp, but it seemed hopeless. At last, while Jovan was busy fighting, Kaeliph cornered the young lady and convinced her he was no simple fisherman. By the end of the two-day tournament, Kallisti had actually smiled right at him once. Encouraged, Kaeliph kept up his pursuit.
Arena or no, Rindale was still a small town, and Jovan’s top prize winnings were meager after the cost of their supplies. Kallisti’s father was kind enough to provide them lodging, Jovan wouldn’t insult the man by offering less than full price for his wares. At dinner that evening, Kallisti suggested that she should accompany the brothers on their journey. While no one answered her directly, her father’s silent stare made it clear that it was time for the brothers to move on. Jovan agreed.
Kaeliph slipped into their room long after the moon had reached her peak. The household should have been sleeping, but Jovan suspected that with his brother’s assistance, Kallisti was still awake. “We have a problem, brother.”
Jovan didn’t look up from packing his few things. “I did warn you about her.” He ran a comb through his thick black hair before binding it tight at his neck with a fresh piece of leather.
“Be serious, Jovan. This is a real problem.” Kaeliph ignored the comment about the blonde goddess he had just left; his brother clearly had no taste in women. He began to pack his own things, in no small hurry.
“You mean Korith’s soldiers, then.” Jovan donned his new cloak.
“You saw them?” Kaeliph paused, staring. How could Jovan know? The men were practically invisible and his brother had been fighting all day.
“They watched the fights. They know who I am. They may not know you yet, if we’re lucky.”
Kaeliph finis
hed packing in silence, double-checking the new weapon on his belt. He, like Jovan, held little hope for a peaceful departure. They left under cover of darkness, and Kaeliph shot his brother a puzzled look when he brought them to the stable instead of the road.
“We’re horse thieves now?” he whispered.
“Borrowers,” Jovan corrected. “We’ll leave them in Cabinsport and send word before we move on. Meet me outside of town with them.” He patted Kaeliph’s shoulder and slipped into the night.
Kaeliph worked quickly. Jovan was protecting him, he knew. Should Korith ever catch up to them, it would be Jovan responsible for the deaths of his men, not Kaeliph. Not that it mattered, if the Duke was already certain Kaeliph had killed his son, but Jovan would claim responsibility for that too if it kept his brother safe. Was that the only reason Jovan had gone alone to fight at least three soldiers, though?
Kaeliph enjoyed the dance of the battle and the skill of the fighters, he loved the notion of dueling for honor as the men in mother’s stories always did. Jovan, though? His brother had plenty of skill, and strength— even honor, of a kind. But there was something in him … something hard, and cold, and final.
The horses followed Kaeliph willingly enough, and he reached the signpost on the main road shortly before Jovan did. He was walking— which meant there was no one alive to pursue him. Kaeliph said nothing as they swung up into the saddles of the borrowed mounts and turned towards Cabinsport.
6
"Dove?" Duke Korith frowned as he surveyed the room. “Wife? What are you doing?”
Bethcelamin’s normally pale cheeks shone red as she tossed several long dresses into the open trunk, much to the chagrin of her maid. His wife's movements were sharp and restless, and her lips moved as she talked herself through her actions.
The ache in the Duke’s head began to grow. He had no time for this.
“What does it look like, Jayden?” she answered, very near tears. Again. “I’m going home.”
He took a deep breath and stepped in front of his wife, catching her arms in his hands. This again. He understood grief, that heavy ache in the heart – he felt it as well. Regardless, her obsession with returning home was ... untimely, at best.
“Beth, my dove, we cannot leave yet. You know this. We’ve discussed it.”
Bethcelamin stood frozen in his grasp, neither embracing him nor pulling away. She stared at him with beautiful, bottomless dark eyes that were colder than the depths of the Impasse.
“No,” she said, her voice clear and brittle. “You discussed it.”
Bashara, the maid, took the latest gown from her mistress’ hands and tried to fold it with a bit more care. She stood there, looking from the trunk to the cabinet, uncertain where to put the armful of silk.
“It was entirely you,” Bethcelamin continued, more forcefully. “I was given no say in your decision to stay in this awful place.”
Her grief-shrill voice was a knife against the blossoming pain in Korith’s head. Tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes, and he tried very hard to be gentle despite the anger rising within him. He needed silence, and he needed whiskey.
“My darling Beth,” he crooned, “my wife, my only love. You know I could never deny you. But surely you have not forgotten why we remain? Do you not wish for Lucian’s killer to be found?” That did it, as he knew it would.
His wife, overcome by grief, sank to the floor where she had stood. All thoughts of leaving had fled the woman’s mind, swept away in the flood of tears released by the name of her murdered son. Korith let her fall.
Bashara dropped the dress and reached to comfort her sobbing lady.
“She needs rest, not coddling,” Korith snapped. His harsh look sent the young maid scurrying for the sedating tea. He took a knee by his wife’s side.
“Oh, my dove.” Her weeping echoed in his throbbing head, but it was necessary. “Do you wish for me to let Lucian’s death go unpunished? If his loss means so little to you, we can leave right now.”
He braced himself for the wail of grief. It was worth it. She would cry, and drink her tea. Then she would sleep, and he could meet with Garen. There were more important matters than her tears that needed tending.
“Lucian,” she wailed softly. “My baby … and my sweet baby girl! What have I done? Both of them, gone, I’ve lost them…” she shook with her sobs, barely able to wrap her breath around the words.
Jayden Korith’s face tightened as his patience fled, and he stood, hauling her up beside him.
“You are mother to but one child,” he hissed in her ear. “Ours. You would do well to hold your tongue.” He escorted her to the bed, half carrying her when she tried weakly to pull away from him. “I have work to do, Beth. We will remain here, together, and I will hear no more about it.” He pushed her to the mattress, perhaps more forcefully than he should have, and she buried her face into the soft coverlet with a low moan.
“Lucian was our son,” Korith continued. “You are right to mourn him. But I will not tolerate mention of any other, do you understand me?” It was clear she did not, she paid him not the slightest attention as he strode to the door. He overturned the half-packed trunk with a well-placed kick of frustration. The noise made his eyes water with pain, and he blinked furiously as gowns spilled across the stone.
“See that she sleeps, she is delirious with grief.” The Duke brushed past the returning Bashara, nearly overturning the teapot on her tray. “And clean up that mess. She goes nowhere.” He slammed the door behind him, and Bethcelamin flinched on the bed before releasing another soft stream of sobs.
Bashara looked around the room, shaking her head, and moved to her lady’s side. “There, there,” she soothed. “Drink this. You’ll feel much better.”
Beth sat up with blank tearstained eyes and took the tea. “I’m sorry about the mess, Bashara,” she whispered, emptying the familiar bitter drink in three swallows.
The maid patted her hand. “It’s just a gown or two, lady, it will be no trouble.”
Beth yawned, feeling drained. It seemed over the course of just one week her whole life had been reduced to tides of weeping and unbearable sorrow, embraced on each side by deep, empty spaces of drugged sleep. “I just want to go home,” she murmured. “There is nothing for me here…”
The strong tea was working as it always did, and Bashara took the cup from her mistress’ shaking hand.
“I know, lady. Here, lie down.”
Beth’s eyes were closing even as her head touched the pillow. “He hates me,” she whispered, a tear slipping out from beneath her lashes.
“No, lady. I am certain he mourns, but men are strange creatures. They do not weep, so they shout. Rest, now.”
Bethcelamin slept.
7
Melody woke; icy sweat clammy on the back of her neck and a scream perched behind her lips. The nightmare was slow in leaving, and she drew her knees to her chest with trembling arms as she struggled to steady her breathing. Attilus huffed from beneath the tiny bed, which was some small comfort. If anything were truly wrong, if someone with cold gray eyes was truly lurking outside the door with his blade at the ready, wanting her … the dog would know. Wouldn’t he?
Her shaking would not stop, and she searched the dark room with wide, frightened eyes. Calder’s bed was empty. He’d gone, she remembered. He said she would be safer here. Then why was she so uneasy? She stood, inching slowly towards the door on freezing bare feet, listening for … what?
Attilus huffed again, and she heard the clicking of his claws on the wooden floor before she felt his cold, wet nose press into the palm of her hand. He whined, circling her until he stood between her and the door, then he leaned his body against her knees, pushing insistently.
All right, I’m going. Melody flashed a small smile at the huge dog, scratching his ears fondly as he walked with her back to the bed. Rotten hound. He jumped up beside her, lending her the heat of his considerable bulk, and in a few moments, she was deeply asl
eep, the nightmare distant.
Attilus remained vigilant, but not even his ever-alert ears heard the footsteps that padded away from the door.
8
Calder spent a long night following the scouts’ trail, keeping some distance behind. He would wait before killing them. With luck, their bodies would not be found before he got Melody safely away. His quarry made no effort to conceal their passage north, angling along the ridge away from the NightWood. Calder, having spent his whole life in these lands, knew their path was the most direct one to Epidii, where Duke Korith made his home.
This was not the first time he had tracked – and killed – to protect Melody. Almost nineteen years ago, he and Solus had left the then-infant girl sleeping in her mother’s arms, and the two of them moved in on the skilled Hunters tracking them.
Hunters were Korith’s private force, his personal guard. They were warriors, skilled and fierce, always in squads of ten. Korith’s father was Duke at the time, but the young heir had bigger plans even then. His Hunters were part of it. Calder and Solus had managed to kill all ten of the trained killers – a feat made possible only with the magical powers of Melody’s father. Even then it took three days.
Calder knew the scouts ahead of him were no true threat in comparison, but he still kept his guard up as he snatched a few hours’ sleep in the branches of a tree when the three men took their rest.
When the sun arrived directly overhead, Calder made his move. They should still be asleep, so he was silent as he circled ahead and around. No watch posted? Careless. He found an area of activity to the northwest of their camp, though, just at the edge of the ridge. His suspicions mounted.
Awaken Page 5
