by Kirby Crow
Jarek stared at him. “And Jochi?”
Scarlet will never forgive me. The sentence was on Liall's lips, but he couldn't say it. He curled his hand into a fist and thumped it against his thigh. “Jochi lives.”
Jarek sagged in relief.
“He won't be happy, but he'll live. Jochi is exiled from court. For as long as I rule, he will not enter the Nauhinir again. He will remain at the Blackmoat.”
“For how long, my lord?”
“For as long as I say.”
Liall slipped from his saddle and draped his horse's reins over a frozen evergreen. He drew his broadsword from its sheath and tested the edge with his thumb. “Go and see what’s keeping them. It's only going to get colder out here.”
WHEN JAREK RETURNED with Alexyin and Jochi in tow, she did not come alone.
Jarek walked ahead of the men and drew her sword as the two prisoners were brought on foot to the shelf, an honor guard of five officers in attendance, Theor and Tesk among them. Jarek stood a little away from Liall with the point of her blade in the snow and her hands crossed over the pommel in a formal stance. She had not brought an executioner’s axe, as Liall had half expected.
An axe is too common. Alexyin has noble blood.
Liall's unforgiving gaze slid to Jochi. Jarek had ordered both prisoners to be bound with their wrists behind their backs. He hadn't ordered that, but he was glad for it. Alexyin was a formidable swordsman.
Margun was notably absent. Good. He's not moving far from Scarlet's rooms. Very good.
Jarek had chosen Mirchen and Kamaras to attend her, two of her highest officers. The young man with the burned face and the older woman with the handsome one wore still, closed expressions. Liall sensed that neither of them was pleased to be given this duty.
They don't have to agree, they only have to obey. This is why Cestimir loathed the thought of the crown. He wanted to do the right thing, but a king can't always do what's right. A king has to look into men's eyes with those same men knowing you've done wrong, and they must swallow it and bend the neck anyway. Cestimir couldn't bear that.
Luckily, he could.
The grip of his sword was cold in his hand. “Alexyin.”
Alexyin stood proudly, fearless even now. “My king.” He glanced about him at the ridge, and the small smile he gave Liall told him that Alexyin remembered.
Liall’s heart twisted. “I'm not your king. No man is your king, now. You've forsaken the obedience that you would owe to any ruler whom you were sworn to. You're a traitor.”
“I've not betrayed Rshan.”
“I am Rshan! The man who believes a king and his lands are divisible is the man capable of treachery.” Liall glowered at Alexyin, his burst of pity vanishing. “My lady mother should have sent you from court years ago. You're too close to my family. You've never gotten over seeing me as the boy you taught at sums; a lad who stole apples from the kitchens and played on the stairs. You thought I would not punish you overmuch if you were caught. You thought I would forgive for the good of the realm. Well, I'm the fucking realm, Alexyin, and I do not forgive this.” He stared at the man he had known since birth, marveling at how much a stranger Alexyin had become. “For myself, I might have considered forgiveness, for the sake of your many years of service and for our friendship. But for what you planned to do to Scarlet? Never.”
“It was only justice,” Alexyin said coldly.
“It was only murder.”
Jochi turned a confused look on Alexyin. “Murder?”
Alexyin lifted his chin. “We kill men all the time in Rshan, my lord. I did try to spare you before it came to this. The ice cat in the Wildewatch, for one.”
It was only one more arrow into his heart. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. “You put that animal there?”
“I baited the cat with fresh meat for weeks before, so it would know the area could feed it. That kind of death would have been quick, at least, but your boy has the luck of a demon.”
“It wasn’t luck that saved him from murder. It was Tesk’s bow.”
“It’s not murder if it's done for the good of the kingdom. You were like a son to me, Nazheradei, and it’s lawful for men to protect their king.”
“Lawful,” Liall mocked through his teeth. “Protect.” He looked at Alexyin through a haze of red. “A father does not plot to kill his son’s family. You meant to take him from me, to take my love and drown him in the cold seas.” Liall heard Jochi's gasp of shock. “Were you going to be there, Alexyin? Did you plan to do it yourself, with your own hands? Throw my t'aishka over the side and watch him flounder in the water and drown? Were you going to take your pleasure, tow him behind the ship and let his blood freeze slowly, or did you have something more entertaining in mind? “
Alexyin did not have the grace to bow his head. He had always been proud. “I would not have enjoyed his death. It was necessary. That is all.”
Jochi had turned pale. He dropped awkwardly to his knees in the snow, hampered by his bound arms. “Please, my king,” Jochi begged. “Please, sire, I didn't know. Don't let ser Keriss believe I wanted his death. I accept my sentence humbly as the king's justice, but when I'm dead, please don't let him think I knew of this. I would never harm him!”
Liall glanced at Jarek, who shook her head. She had not told Jochi that he was to be spared. Now, more than ever, Liall wished he could keep Jochi by him. You were misled, he thought, but that is almost as bad as treason. I can afford your friendship no longer.
“Get up,” Alexyin snarled at Jochi. “You shame yourself.”
“I am ashamed!” Jochi cried out. “As you should be.”
“Whatever I've done, I've done for—”
“Yourself,” Liall broke in. “Or do you really believe that Cestimir would have sanctioned Scarlet's murder? He would have fought you over it, even to his own death. If you think otherwise, then you didn't know my brother at all.” He nodded to Theor. “Put him on his knees.”
Jochi bowed his head, his lips moving silently, as Theor’s ham-sized fist clamped down on Alexyin’s shoulder and pushed him to kneel in the snow.
“Tesk, take Jochi back to the Blackmoat.”
Jochi's head jerked up. “I am not to be killed? But...” He glanced at Alexyin. “I'm guilty, sire. As guilty as Alexyin.”
“Agreed,” Liall said. “And for that, you'll pay, but not with your life. I believe you, Jochi. I don't think you would have harmed Scarlet or allowed this treason to go so far if you’d known they intended murder.” Liall stepped forward and slid the pointed tip of his sword under Alexyin's chin. “But this man wanted half of me dead. The good half, at that. If not for Scarlet’s tender heart and his fondness for you, Jochi, I would leave both your heads on the ice. As it is, one will do.”
Tesk hauled Jochi to his feet by his tunic and spun him around, facing the Blackmoat. “Hurry, fool,” Tesk hissed. “Before he changes his mind.”
“Farewell, cousin,” Alexyin called. “Remember that I thought first of the realm, always.” He looked to Jarek. “What needs to be told, you must tell, Jarek.”
“I'll tell my own tales, Setna!” Jarek flared at him. Tesk grabbed him by the arms and hustled him down the hill.
Jochi twisted to look back at Alexyin, weeping with loathing and grief. “You bastard,” he choked. “You lying bastard! You never said you were going to murder him!”
Alexyin shrugged, uncaring even with the point of Liall's sword on his throat. He looked up and met his king’s eyes. “What does it matter? He’s only a lenilyn.”
Liall gave a shout of incoherent rage and swung the sword out sideways, up, and brought it down on the top of Alexyin's head. It wasn't clean or honorable: Alexyin's skull split in half, cloven to his nose. Blood sprayed in two directions. Liall braced his boot on Alexyin’s chest to pull his sword free. Alexyin toppled backwards, eyes sightless and half-closed, his brains spilling out on the snow.
Liall hawked and spat on the corpse. “Leave him there!” he s
narled. “Let the beasts have him. I'll not bury him among men.”
She was several paces away, but Jarek’s face was spattered with blood. She stared at the grisly corpse. “May the Shining Ones forgive him,” she whispered.
Mirchen and Kamaras were speechless.
“Worry about your own forgiveness.” Liall pushed past Jarek to go to his horse. The animal reared his head at the scent of blood, thick and brassy in the cold air, and Liall saw that Argent’s shoulder was painted red with Alexyin’s death. Raja. That’s your new name. My mother thought it would suit Scarlet, but it would never have. Red is for blood, and Scarlet is fire.
He adjusted his saddle and mounted without looking at Jarek. “Your witnesses have my leave to go.”
She signaled to Mirchen and Kamaras to dismiss them. They hurriedly turned and followed Tesk. Theor retreated to a distance but waited with his axe ready in his hand.
Jarek stood looking down at Alexyin’s body, her face like a shard of ice. “You really mean to leave him where he lies? It’s dishonorable. His bones will be scattered from here to the Ironspell.”
“That’s my intent. If I’m lucky, my horse will trample his skull when we ride for Ged Fanorl.”
Jarek’s hand clenched on her sword-hilt. She hefted the broadsword and sheathed it in one motion before she came to him. “So, that boy really is your t’aishka, mated life to life throughout time. I admit that I doubted it once.”
“But no longer.”
She shook her head. “If you could do this to Alexyin for his sake, then I’ll never doubt it again. You’ll not marry the lady Ressilka?”
“No more than you’d marry your mare. Falah serves a purpose. She has a smooth gait and I’d bet she’s a pleasure to ride, but it ends there, doesn’t it?” He was surprised that he felt so little pain over Alexyin. And if I ever do, I’ll only have to imagine Scarlet drowning in a cold sea.
Jarek colored at his crude insult to a lady of the blood. “Alexyin served your family well for many years. He wanted only to live long enough to see your line continued. Your legitimate line.” She nodded. “Aye, and he wanted his revenge, too. Such things blind a man.”
“Women as well.”
“Not this woman. My lord, there is something you should know.”
Jarek took a step closer and touched Alexyin’s blood on his horse’s coat. Liall was mortally glad she had sheathed her weapon.
“Alexyin was the keeper of secrets for the Camira-Druz,” she said unsteadily. “Few others knew how much power he wielded in the days when Queen Nadiushka could not. He was king in all but name after you were exiled. He sent that viper Vladei from the court and settled the barons, threatened those who were slow to kneel and took hostages from the families of those who refused. There were no few refusals, either. The monarchy survived because of him. He was a cunning man, and loyal to the Camira-Druz. There was much he knew of your royal mother... and of me.”
She wants to tell me something and it sticks in her throat. “Out with it before it chokes you,” Liall said. Beneath him, his mount stamped his hoof twice as if giving orders to augment his.
“You have a son, my lord. Not a boy, but a man grown. Not legitimate, and not gently-reared, but a male, alive, and healthy.”
Liall heard Scarlet's sweet voice in his ears: “If you believe Shikhoza couldn't keep a secret for sixty years, you should start thinking about what woman you know who could.”
“You never told me,” Liall said through cold lips.
“What need?” Jarek shrugged. “I consulted with the Lady Shikhoza—”
“Shikhoza?”
“Whatever else, she is a woman, sire,” Jarek answered tonelessly. “The queen was a mother, burdened with a mother’s grief. That was not Shikhoza’s way. She understood the matter better than any other could have. She agreed that my boy was of no importance to the succession. You were soon to marry her and Nadei would have found a wife in a year or two, after the sting of her rejection had faded. My son would have been nothing more than a rival to your heirs. The people would have named him a bastard and me a whore, and for as long as he lived he would have been in danger from Nadei’s sons or yours, or from Vladei. Even so, I was tempted to tell you, because your true sons would not have inherited the throne anyway. Then Nadei was dead and you were gone and my little bastard of no importance was suddenly everything. Shikhoza sent me away, hid him from the queen when he was born, and commanded me to be silent.” Her mouth trembled. “But I didn’t know until today that she had lied to Alexyin and told him that the boy was her son.”
Liall’s hand went to his chest as an unexpected wave of grief hit him, painful and sharp. Alexyin had died thinking a pure heir of noble blood still lived, and that all his hopes were not lost, only thwarted by a foreign interloper. Scarlet, whom he came to hate.
Another prince for Alexyin to guide. Another Cestimir.
Liall gave a shuddering sigh. “Where is he?” The wind had risen and the sky was turning a shade of indigo through the patched clouds.
“Adventuring. It's his trade, my lord. I said he was not gently reared.”
His fist slammed down on the pommel of his saddle, bruising his bone. “Where?”
“You've already met him. It was during the Norl Ūhn crossing, on Captain Qixa's ship.”
Liall’s eyes slid closed. Deva's shrieking hell, no. It can't be. But he knew it couldn't have been anyone else. Fate had always been cruel to him.
“Oleksei,” Liall said like a groan. “What have you done to me, Jarek?” Even the names were similar: Oleksei, Alexyin.
“I’m sorry, sire.”
The monstrous unfairness of it all hit him like a fist. He wanted to strike back. “What am I supposed to do?” he spat at her. “Welcome this ill-fathered brigand under my roof at the Nauhinir? Is that what you planned?”
At last, Jarek showed a spark of defiance. “He was not ill-fathered. We weren't in love, true, but we were fond and gentle in the time we had. He's your son.”
“He's a jealous brute, and a cruel, brainless one as well. I won't acknowledge him.” Liall was implacable. Oleksei! Gods below, I'd rather she'd birthed a whelp with two heads. At least for a freak, I could feel some pity. “You’ve lived sixty years with this secret. I see no reason to change that now. You will never, ever, breathe another word of his existence to anyone. As for Shikhoza, her web of lies drove Alexyin mad. She will pay for them.”
He remembered the sight of Oleksei holding Scarlet down in the filthy hold of the ship, and he felt sickened. Scarlet's gentle face still bore the scars. “He'll never be my son. Not that one. Never.”
Jarek looked away, shaken by his words. “As my lord commands, I will obey.”
“Your lord commands and your lord also reminds you of the oaths you swore. Alexyin was not mindful of his.” He pointed to the red mess on the snow. “Here is the result.”
Jarek shuddered and her shoulders hunched inward. “Do I have your leave to go? I must have time to grieve, sire, before I lead your army.”
“Go!” Liall snarled. He wheeled Raja around. The animal wandered, unbidden, to the shelter of the juniper as Jarek walked away. She did not look again at the cooling corpse.
I learned my lessons from you both, Jarek, Liall thought, watching her go, knowing something had been broken between them, some tie severed forever. He remembered their meeting at the Nauhinir, the first time they had seen one another again in sixty years.
She had been walking away from him, then, too. “It’s a terrible thing to be deceived by the ones closest to you, Nazir,” she had said. “He may forgive your past. The present is another matter.”
Alone, Liall nodded. And now their positions were reversed. It was he who must forgive, for the good of the realm.
THE WIND PICKED UP after Jarek had gone, blowing with a steady, implacable cold, and still, Liall lingered on the ridge. He had expected to be stricken with grief, unable to face anyone. Instead, he began to feel lighter.
Light snow drifted from the sky. Liall tilted his head back to feel the wind on his face and the snowflakes brushing over his skin. Some great weight had been taken from him. Whether it was his last, lingering guilt over Cestimir’s death or the elimination of the greatest source of danger to Scarlet, he did not know. Possibly both.
His heart lifted as he gazed at the wheel tower, recalling the nightmare it had come to represent to him. That awful dream was fading now, a future that would never be, the gods willing.
“Deva,” he said aloud. “Shining Ones. If gods there are, then words are worthless. If you know my heart, then look now and see what it holds. Look, if you dare.”
The wind became a howl. He watched the endless sky and the great shimmering pearl of the sun, narrowing his eyes as he stared it down, his breath held as he searched for a sign, an omen, anything to know he was heard.
And if you are not willing, then I must convince you. How much blood and death will the gods tolerate? You are eternal, but I am King. In the here and now, my reach is mighty. Ignore my plea and I will not give you the peace the Ancients ask in your names, but drown your world in blood. I will show you what mortal wrath is.
Soundlessly, a bright arc flashed over the sun, silver against blue, its shape like a sword.
Liall bowed his head, his breath leaving him in a long shudder. His vision blurred with tears. “Shining Ones,” he whispered.
To be continued in
Scarlet and the White Wolf, Book 6:
The Mountain of Many Stars.
About the Author
Kirby Crow is an American writer born and raised in the Deep South. She is a winner of the EPIC Award (Best Horror) and the Rainbow Award (Best LGBT Novel, Best Gay Fantasy), and is the author of the bestselling Scarlet and the White Wolf series of LGBT fantasy novels. Kirby and her husband and their son share an old, lopsided house in the Blue Ridge with a cat. Always a cat.
Published Novels:
Prisoner of the Raven
Scarlet and the White Wolf, Book 1: The Pedlar and the Bandit King
