Blood Mercy (Blood Grace Book 1)

by Vela Roth

  Lio’s last sip of coffee was bitter on his tongue. He set his cup down carefully. The grounds that clung to the bottom could reveal one’s future, it was said, but if any omen lay within, Lio had not the skill to read it. He must rely on his own power to determine his fate.

  Surely his uncle could not be thinking of sending him home.

  The violence that had broken out upon their arrival had been an unexpected tragedy. There was no doubt their presence here sparked conflict that could easily turn against them. But that didn’t mean the embassy was in such great danger that Lio must be packed off home like a suckling.

  Unless… Hespera’s Mercy. Was Lio to be banished back to Orthros for another reason? He had no doubt that would be his uncle’s response, if he discovered Lio had shown such blatant disregard for the fragile rules on which the success of the Summit depended.

  He felt no probe from his uncle’s mind. Just Uncle Argyros’s piercing dark gaze. He might in all fairness help himself to what thoughts Lio left unguarded, but he would never trespass on the veiled depths of another’s mind. Nor had he ever needed to, to discern what he wanted to know from his nephew.

  But Lio had never kept a secret like this from his uncle.

  Could Uncle Argyros know Lio had spoken with Lady Cassia?

  Test of Will

  Uncle Argyros set down his cup and looked across the table at Lio.

  Lio did not look away. He knew how to withstand a thorough scrutiny from Argyros.

  How could his uncle know? Lio was no uninitiated newblood. Surely he would have sensed his mentor’s aura if Uncle Argyros had checked on him from afar or, worse, come out to the grounds and discovered him in Lady Cassia’s company.

  Lio felt the veil he wore as close as his own skin, weightless as light, strong as stone. There was not so much as a flutter of disturbance in his working.

  He did not break his uncle’s gaze, only the silence. “I know more is at stake than what any of us want. I know this journey has already proved to be even more dangerous than we expected, and no one of my youth has ever been allowed to participate in the Equinox Summit. I do not take for granted what an exception the Queens have made for me under these extraordinary circumstances.”

  “I have never known you to take anything for granted.”

  “The first Summit in four hundred years, Uncle! As long as I will live, as many embassies as I may yet have the honor to serve, there will never be another like this. This is what I have trained for. This is the history I have waited to be part of, the opportunity I have longed for to commit all my power to the benefit of our people.”

  “You have always worked diligently for our good. Your work at home has not been wasted.”

  “My work on Tenebran history and politics. At last I have a real opportunity to put it into practice. I would be of no use in Orthros at a time like this. It would do no good for me to spend the Equinox Summit tending your scrolls and awaiting your return.”

  “You’re wrong, Lio.”

  Disappointment threatened to sink him. He braced himself. “Am I?”

  “Someone much younger than you once participated in the Equinox Summit.”

  “What?” Lio frowned. “Who? I have read the transcripts of all the Summits. I would have remembered.”

  “I wasn’t always this old, Nephew.”

  Lio stared at his uncle. “You’re speaking of your first Summit. Forgive me—of course. I should have realized.”

  “No apologies necessary. Your generation is taught to think of us as elders. I cannot fault you for your education, when I am the one who gave it to you. I cannot blame you for not knowing what I do not have the heart to teach you.”

  “Uncle…” Lio leaned forward, closing some of the distance between them. He observed another moment of silence before he spoke further. “I know how it pains all of you to talk about the Last War. Even the first Equinox Summit that ended it. You needn’t now, if you do not wish to.”

  “No. We must.”

  Uncle Argyros took up the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. He held out a hand, and Lio slid his own cup across the table. It was not until they had both taken one, two more sips of coffee that Uncle Argyros spoke.

  “I had been Hesperine for fewer years than you, Lio, when I stood with the Queens at the first Equinox Summit, and they personally swore the Oath with the best king and queen Tenebra ever had. That was the only reason the Last War with Cordium ceased.”

  “It must have been terrible and wonderful to witness that moment,” Lio said. “If the Mage King and the Changing Queen had not reached a truce with us and let the Queens take our people safely out of Tenebra, this place would still be a battleground in the Mage Orders’ attempt to destroy us.”

  Uncle Argyros nodded gravely. “In the name of all we had lost and all we prayed would never happen again, I pledged myself to the preservation of the treaty before the Queens, and they bestowed upon me the duty of returning here to reenact the Equinox Summit with each successive ruler of Tenebra. Our Queens had forethought. They envisioned and built toward a future for us in a time when most of us could scarcely believe tomorrow would come. Hespera’s temples lay in ruins. Her worshipers’ villages had become their funeral pyres. Lyta…” Uncle Argyros, never at a loss for words, faltered. “She could still feel the blood of her vengeance on her hands. I could still feel the blood of all those my words and my magic were insufficient to save.”

  “I understand,” Lio said for the first time.

  “Do you?” Uncle Argyros let out a long breath. “Your father was young then, as well. We were both men in our prime…or perhaps a little past it…when we became Hesperines. Neither of us realized how young we were.”

  “I do understand, in a way I didn’t before tonight.”

  That was all Lio could say. He had seen suffering he had no power to prevent. One life lost. It felt enormous. And yet it had been only a small taste of the catastrophic suffering the Last War had wrought.

  “For the sake of all those you lost, Uncle, I wish to remain in Tenebra.”

  “That’s precisely why I wish to send you home. That and the fact that your mother will certainly curtail my immortal existence, if I allow this place to scar you. Not to mention your father may set his mind on joining us, if things grow too dangerous—for your safety, he’ll say. Then my dear brother and our restive prince will be together on this side of the border and free to tempt you, my initiate ambassador, into their undiplomatic ways, and any members of the embassy who survive your mother’s ire may give up all hope of peaceful negotiations.”

  “I had no idea I might be such a detriment to the embassy.”

  “I never said you are. You are an invaluable asset. I need all our best assets, Lio, if I am to make anything of this disaster.”

  At last. Those were the words Lio had hoped to hear. The only response he could give felt insufficient. “Thank you, Uncle.”

  “As the Queens’ Master Ambassador, I would have my initiate on hand to assist me in this impossible situation. As your mentor, I would not deny you this opportunity to advance your career. As your teacher, I would not deprive you of education by experience. As your friend, I would have your company over my evening coffee. But as your uncle, I regret asking this of you.”

  “You never asked. I volunteered. And I would do so again. I will do so again, should I be blessed with the opportunity.”

  Uncle Argyros’s eyes gleamed, not with thelemancy, but with pride. “Very well, then. There will be no more talk of sending you home. For now.”

  A victorious laugh threatened to tear out of Lio, but he caught it just in time. Instead, he gave his uncle a bow of gratitude over their cups.

  Uncle Argyros sighed. “Since our Queens have authorized me to take the youngest member of House Komnena, Apollon’s only heir, out of their sight, I shall trust them to keep the consequences well in hand. I am sure Komnena will refrain from plotting my demise, Apollon will behave himself in Orthros, and th
e prince will show neither pale hide nor blood-red hair of himself during our entire stay in Tenebra.”

  Now Lio did laugh. He could scarcely contain his relief. “I should like to see Father and Rudhira try to sit through the Summit with the king and Council.”

  “Goddess preserve us. That is something I hope I never witness.” Uncle Argyros drained his cup.

  As he brought it to rest on the table, his gaze fixed on something over Lio’s shoulder—no, someone. Lio hadn’t even felt his aunt approach, but now her lively aura filled the room as she rounded the table and went to Uncle Argyros’s side. She wrapped her arms around her Grace’s shoulders, and with the ease of reflex, he reached up to rest a hand upon her sleeve.

  She gazed across the table at Lio. “How is our nephew?”

  “He is well,” Uncle Argyros said firmly.

  Aunt Lyta smiled, and Lio could easily sense her relief. She was not one to keep her feelings to herself, nor her opinions.

  Uncle Argyros’s hand had relaxed around his coffee cup, while the other tightened ever so slightly upon Aunt Lyta’s arm. “You and Kadi have finished the ward?”

  “Indeed. Our daughter does us proud. As does our nephew.”

  “Indeed.” Uncle Argyros smiled.

  Lio returned the smile, into his coffee cup. “Thank you.”

  “For my part, I am glad you are here, Lio. With you near, I miss Mak and Lyros a little less.” A shadow crossed Aunt Lyta’s aura. “And I have spent too much time missing my children.”

  Uncle Argyros raised his hand to his Grace’s hair, fingering the braid of his own hair she wore across her brow. Whatever he said to her, it was not for anyone’s ears but hers. In the privacy of their Grace Union, perhaps he reminded her that on this side of the border, they were that much closer to Nike, wherever she was in Tenebra. Or maybe they only shared a moment of silent grief for the long years since they had last seen their first child.

  “Well, I dare any of the mages across yonder green to disturb our sleep.” Aunt Lyta’s smile reappeared, as swift and sharp as her reflexes. “It will not go well for them.”

  Now that Lio was no longer engaged in a contest of Will with his uncle, he could sense Aunt Lyta and Kadi’s ward around the embassy’s grim quarters. Their shield rang of Orthros. Home.

  It felt discordant with the tight veil he carried over his heart.

  “At least our hosts agreed we should sleep under protective magic,” Lio remarked. “In fact, the Tenebrans seemed to expect us to take such a precaution. It troubles me to think what strange superstition we might be confirming.”

  “They must think what they will,” Aunt Lyta said. “It is out of the question for us to surrender to the Dawn Slumber in this place without a proper ward to ensure our safety until we wake.”

  “Speaking of which, I believe it’s time to excuse myself, if I may.” Lio set his cup back on the tray of the coffee service and counted himself fortunate he didn’t knock anything over.

  Aunt Lyta gave him a smile he often saw directed at him and his cousins. “The sun draws nearer under the horizon. You must be sleepy.”

  At this moment, the weariness merely lapped at him, making his limbs feel sluggish and his fingers clumsy. But it wouldn’t be long before the Slumber dragged him under and took the power of his Will with it.

  Before that happened, he had to be out of his uncle’s presence.

  Fear Lio had not felt since his childhood now overtook him. The dread of losing control. His uncle would be wide awake until sunlight broke the horizon, while Lio’s power waned and his veil slipped.

  “Good veil,” Uncle Argyros bade him, “and easy dreams.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.” Lio stood. His legs felt heavier already. “Good veil, Aunt Lyta.”

  “Sleep well, Lio.”

  He escaped to his room at last. As soon as he shut the door, he leaned back against it, closed his eyes, and devoted all his concentration to weaving a veil over his chamber.

  He did this every night, he told himself. What Hesperine didn’t? Living in Blood Union, they all learned to draw a curtain between what they wished to share with others and what they didn’t. And they learned to do it in their sleep. All newbloods mastered the art of weaving veils over their sleeping quarters that would persist without constant tending.

  But this time Lio felt like a thief in the night, next door to his own people. He was not merely ensuring his privacy. He was hiding something that could change the course of the negotiations.

  Or get him sent home. Which would mean he had no chance to discover precisely what it meant for his people that the king’s own daughter spoke of Hesperines’ sacred rites with respect.

  Lio would be as good as his word to Lady Cassia. He would tell no one she had spoken to him. He would keep his own counsel. That would have to be enough as he tried to decide how to proceed.

  But he could make no monumental decisions tonight. Lio shuffled toward his narrow bunk, shucking his formal robes on the way. He had the presence of mind to send them into his trunk with a wave of his hand. Any more power than that was too much effort. Without the aid of magic, he tossed back a wool blanket that had seen better days, then fell onto his pallet. At least it was stuffed with straw, and there were no furs.

  Lio could feel it, a behemoth beneath the horizon, rising up to bury him. The sun. He’d be under before its light entered the sky.

  Aunt Lyta and Kadi’s ward would ensure all of them survived the day. Lio’s veil would protect Lady Cassia’s secrets…and his own.

  41

  Days Until

  SPRING EQUINOX

  Lady Cassia’s Garden

  No.

  Was that answer worth what she had traded him?

  Pushing herself out of bed seemed too difficult. Cassia felt as if she hadn’t slept. Perhaps she hadn’t, in the scant hours between that moonlit conversation and the dawn that now threatened through the crack under her door.

  So. She had her answer. After all she had wrought and risked to be in the right place at the right moment to stand in the dark with a Hesperine and ask it of him.

  The answer was no.

  She had given in to her compulsion to ensure she was at Solorum during the Summit. She had indulged her preoccupation with the Hesperines. Now she must be satisfied—and stop making trouble for herself, when there was already enough. Time to raise her shield and face another day.

  It wasn’t until Knight wallowed out of bed that Cassia heeded her self-admonitions. He went to sit at attention by the door, clearly ready to maul any intruders, but especially his breakfast.

  Cassia disentangled herself from her blankets and dragged herself to her feet. She set the bed to rights, as she always did. If Perita tended the place where Knight slept, her resulting illness would render her of no use at all. As Cassia pulled the linens tight, she caught sight of a black speck on the undyed fabric. The dark spot hopped. She sighed. Once the blankets were tidy, she snatched the floral wreath off the wall above the bedstead. The charm had clearly reached the end of its life. That was another thing she could see to today, and not a day too soon.

  In the hearth room, Perita had a fire burning and a lid on the pot to keep their porridge from going cold. One of the kennel masters had been here, for Knight’s meal awaited in a dish just inside the door. Cassia saw her hound settled with the bloody hunk of venison, then settled herself by the fire. She noted only Knight had any energy this morning. She and Perita both shuffled about as if they had engaged in too much exercise the night before.

  It was not hard to understand why Perita’s lover was so attentive or why she had held his interest since the court’s stay at Namenti. Perita was clever about what men liked. She took pains over her appearance with every tool allotted to a girl of her rank and exploited a few her proximity to Cassia afforded. She tied her apron just so to create a desirable shape and let as much of her wavy, light brown hair escape her kerchief as a woman might appropriately do. She invested consider
able effort in combining Cassia’s unwanted scent oils for the greatest effect.

  Men committed many foolish deeds over women less pretty than Perita, and Perita was pretty. But inciting them to such acts was a dangerous game, one that could easily backfire. Cassia wondered how skilled Perita was at managing her lover.

  Cassia remained grateful for her own dull brown hair, flat figure, and especially the freckles that marred her skin from scalp to toes. Her complexion was a prize that could not be bought, too brown to be fair like lovely Solia’s, not brown enough to remind anyone of Cassia’s beautiful Cordian mother. Being so plain made her half-royal blood the only threat she must deal with. For now she had some reprieve even from that, while domestic affairs occupied Lord Adrogan, and Lord Ferus rode east, discovered Cassia was not there, and then toiled the long way back.

  Cassia set her spoon down in her empty porridge bowl and eyed the hearth room’s single window, whose open shutters let in gray morning light. Her plants could not thrive in her windowless bedchamber, but they would not do badly out here. The small window in the dressing room was of no use, for she must keep herself and her hound’s fur out of Perita’s domain.

  At the moment, Cassia’s containers of evergreens and dormant perennials sat about where the pages had dropped them upon the court’s arrival. The barn troughs she’d salvaged had shed a few nails, but at least none of the pots had cracked. It was harder to finagle replacements for ceramics. She could fill some hours moving her plants into optimal positions and helping them recover from the upset of the journey. But not all her hours.

  Carefully installed in the path of the window’s light, the loom threatened. Cassia must find a garden to work in immediately. She would not end this day without a hoe to occupy her in place of a shuttle.

  “I laid out your sturdy green gown, Lady. The one you always wear for gardening.” Perita hid a yawn behind one hand.

  “I see that. After I work on my plants, I’ll start in the kitchen gardens, then try the Temple of Kyria.”