“What you asked of me wasn’t easy to agree to either. I gave you my word, and I’ll have yours in exchange. You couldn’t survive without Rexson’s help. I need to know you’ll be all right.”
“I know you do,” she said. She pulled him tight, so tight it hurt, but he gave her no indication of that. He kissed her neck instead. “I promise. You have my promise, Love.”
When she finally let go of him, Zacry took her hand. They stood in the same spot on the lawn where, ten years before, he’d returned from rescuing the princes to find Joslyn pacing. She had proceeded, through tears of joy, to admit she was expecting a second child and had refrained from telling him before he’d left. Now he kissed her with what he knew was an obnoxious smirk, and whispered in her ear:
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Her dark eyes lit up with mirth, and she dropped her grip on his fingers to slap him on the bicep. He held her hand to his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I was just checking.”
* * *
When Kora transported her sons from Zacry’s, she took them to Parker’s smithy. He was alone in the sweltering building that morning, and dripping sweat despite having lit just one necessary fire. He claimed he could use a break, and set his sons, also his apprentices, to organizing a few things in the shop while Kora took him to the cooler air outside. The summer day was uncomfortably warm as they stood near the front wall. Behind them, one of four tall chimneys breathed smoke.
Parker’s smithy was a long, low building made of brown brick, with every window and door open to distribute the fire’s heat. Kora, therefore, spoke softly so her sons wouldn’t overhear. When she first mentioned Herezoth, Parker’s expression grew serious. When she mentioned having to use her old chain—he knew every detail about the Crimson League and her time with the resistance—he pulled her close, in a protective hold that gave her courage to mention their sons joining her. At that point, he looked beaten. She didn’t care how he was sweating; she needed to feel his strong arm around her, and he seemed more determined than ever to keep it there.
“You still have nightmares from time to time about that chain. Kora, you sure you’re up to this? Can you…?”
“I can handle it. I have to handle it. It’s that or let Vane get himself killed as a spy. I have to go.”
“And the boys? Don’t you tell me the boys have to.”
“They don’t have to, you’re right, but you’ll never persuade them not to. I swear on all that’s holy, I wish you could, but they’re too honorable, Parker. Too determined to help Vane.”
“They’re too much like you.”
Kora had no clue what to say to that, so she handed Parker her handkerchief, and he wiped his face. His neck.
“I’d go for you,” he said. “I’d do this for you, if there was any way I could. I’d keep those boys of ours here at the smithy and safe.”
“I know you would. I swear I know it, and I love you for that. Listen, it’s not your doing I’m the Marked One. You didn’t know me at seventeen. You didn’t make the first ruby I ever saw split when I touched it and attach to my face: that was the Giver. You didn’t make me a sorceress, or give magic to our sons. The three of us, we were born with magic, and the king needs us.”
“The king needs you, I’ll admit to that. This is different from that kidnapping. He was dealing with what, three people then? And this is hundreds?”
“All with magic,” Kora said. “I have to use that chain. I can get in Linstrom’s head. It’s the only way we’ll bring him down, the only way we’ll stand a chance.”
Parker swore. “It’s not right, Kora. It’s not right you have to do this and I can’t lift a finger to….”
“Listen to me.” Kora pulled away a bit. “I’ll keep the boys as safe as I can. Let me worry about Walt and Wil. I need you to take care of Laskenay and Tressa. I need to know you’ll be around to care for them.”
“You know I will.”
“And that’s why I can say I’m glad you’re staying. That I’m relieved you won’t be with me. As much of a comfort as I’d find you, you’ll comfort me more keeping out of danger. That way, I’ll know the girls will have you. No matter what happens to me, the girls will have you.”
Parker raised her chin with his hand. “They’ll have me.”
Kora said, “In Zalski’s day, when Zac went to a safehouse, I found so much peace in knowing him secure. He was only twelve. I told myself I’d done all I could to provide for him…. In the worst moments I’d think of Zac, and I’d know my demons couldn’t touch my brother.
“Now the girls hold that place. They’re the ones I’ll know protected, and that knowledge will give me strength to use that chain again. I don’t care how hellish my past experience with that magic was. I’ll use it as I must, comforted that you’re here with my daughters. Our daughters.”
Parker hugged her. He kissed the bandana on Kora’s forehead. “If I can’t do this in your place, it’s good to think I at least can help you do it.”
“You can and you will, just by staying. You watch out for my Laskenay. My baby too. If I can’t, make sure they keep up with their lessons. Have my mother teach them to cook and my brother teach them magic. And make sure, damn sure, the men who marry them treat them right.”
“You’ll see all that firsthand.”
Kora nodded, but she wasn’t convinced of what Parker told her. The death sentence on her head for returning home weighed too much. She shrugged off that burden and rose to the balls of her feet to level her face with her husband’s, and hoped her kiss expressed her gratitude.
She hadn’t doubted he would support her need to go to Herezoth. That was her duty, and one she couldn’t delegate. She’d worried more about his reaction to his sons leaving, but knew now he’d support them as well. Would be nothing but proud of them for their desire to stand by Vane.
“I should talk to the boys,” he said.
“Don’t try to convince them to stay,” warned Kora. “You’ll part with them on bad terms, and no one wants that. I couldn’t bear to think….”
“Kora, I’d be a selfish fool to tell them to abandon Vane. They’re sorcerers. That’s a gift from the Giver, that talent. Their uncle’s helped them hone it. For what bloody good are they sorcerers if they can’t come to Vane’s aid at a time like this?”
Kora blessed him, and then sent him off to Walt and Wil. She leaned against the brick wall of the smithy, determined not to cry. She managed not to. She wouldn’t let Parker or her sons see her in tears.
For Kora to return to Herezoth was unavoidable, inescapable, but that did nothing to convince her she was strong enough to take up that chain and its unique, stalking magic again, no matter what she’d told her husband. To infiltrate the sanctity of someone’s mind, even someone like Evant Linstrom, was unnatural. That was always the word to come to mind when she considered the chain: unnatural. The very nature of its magic sickened her with guilt, and then, of course, there was the matter of the thoughts themselves: the ruminations, observations, and plans the chain revealed to her.
Kora had known Linstrom’s father. Petroc had been as close to mad as a man could come and still function with others. His son was just as disturbed, if she could trust Vane’s description. Kora had no desire to know what was in his head, which twisted scenarios related to his plot gave him greatest pleasure.
Worse than any fears concerning the chain was to know her sons in danger. Pondering that, Kora decided to join the king’s magicked forces. She would do more than sit in a room in Oakdowns and gather intelligence. Her brother, her husband, her sons: they mustn’t know her determination, not right away and perhaps not ever, but she would fight when the time came. No way were Walt and Wil standing up to Linstrom’s army without what help she could give. She’d sworn to Parker to protect her boys, and whether or not he realized what she meant by those words, she would fight, if not directly with her sons, then to draw foes away by throwing her magic behind a diffe
rent royal regiment.
That brought Kora’s mind to Rexson Phinnean and a painful tingle to her fingers. He had always cursed himself for the pain her banishment brought her, overlooking how he’d saved her life by ordering her from his realm. If the queen were truly responsible for the Linstrom fiasco, as Vane claimed, then the king’s marriage was in no good place. The last thing he needed was an old love reappearing in his life. That would do him as much good as that blasted chain would help Kora’s peace of mind.
We’ll both soldier through. There’s no other way, no other option.
They had been through worse: fought off an army of trolls at Vane’s aunt’s inn, planned an assault on the Crystal Palace they were sure would kill them both. In that last attack with the Crimson League, Kora had hoped for nothing more than to die first, away from Rexson, so he would be spared the sight and she at least could perish with an irrational hope that the royal might change the tide of battle. Both Rexson and Kora had evaded death that day; Rexson, in particular, had found the strength to exile her, and she to overcome her shame and heartache. She could only pray they both might, again, find themselves equal to the challenges before them.
Rexson would struggle seeing Kora again. For one dreadful, pain-filled moment, she even wondered what effect his presence might have on her. Then she remembered Parker, and that strange tingle vanished from her hand. Rexson, she concluded, would pose her little danger.
At least, she hoped he would.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The King Gains a Spy
Kansten passed the morning with August and Thad in the parlor at Oakdowns. Each hour seemed three times that, until she learned to appreciate Thad’s sense of humor and stopped worrying he judged her to have all the sophistication and subtlety of cattle. When time came to lunch, August went to gather her children while Kansten sent a servant for food for herself and the nobleman. August remained as gracious as ever in her role of hostess, but her manner grew strained the more time wore on; the duchess needed a meal with her children, just her children, so Kansten deemed breaking her promise to Vane to be in Vane’s wife’s interest.
She and Thad discussed their parents when they found themselves alone; Thad was as curious about the infamous Kora Porteg as Kansten found herself about the Duke of Podrar.
“I’ve known Vane for years,” said Thad, as a servant delivered vast portions of a hearty, meaty stew to him and Kansten. “For most of that time, I’ve known his connection with your family had deep roots. I’ve never felt it wise to ask questions, though. You’ll be relieved when I tell you he respects Kora’s privacy.”
“She’s not that private a person,” Kansten argued.
“Perhaps not. But Vane is.”
“Well, that’s true. He always has been.” Kansten glanced up at the portrait of the former duke and duchess. “He looks very like his father. I never realized that.”
Thad’s eyes lit up. A mischievous grin crossed his face, and Kansten figured her last comment was lost upon him. “I forget you’ve known Vane much longer than I have. You knew him before court. What was he like as a teenager?”
Kansten smiled. “Rather moody, but you didn’t get that from me, all right? And quiet. He did a lot of thinking.”
Thad noted, “Still does, though he’s far from quiet now. He’s learned he can’t afford to be.”
They continued the conversation as they ate, and then after, while they stacked their bowls and tray on the mantel, beneath the portrait. Kansten felt strange, almost surreal, to consider how the woman with the long, raven hair and ice blue eyes was the original Laskenay, the first bearer of her sister’s name.
“Did you know Vane’s mother?” Kansten asked.
“I was only a tot when Zalski took over the kingdom and she fled from him. Fled to hide Vane away. My parents, though, have always praised her and her husband. They….”
“Uncle Zac!” Kansten cried, jumping to her feet. The dark-haired, bearded Zacry Porteg had materialized in the middle of the room, holding hands with: “Walten? Wilhem? What are you doing here?” Then Kansten noticed the robed figure with thinning blond hair on Wilhem’s right. “Your Majesty!”
Zacry muttered “Contenay Ruid,” and the walls glowed yellow. No one would overhear their conversation. Kansten’s uncle must have spent some time here in Thad’s company, because he said, “This is the Duke of Podrar’s son. He’s always supported Vane. He’s to be trusted.”
A feminine voice then whispered, “Desfazair,” and a bandana-wearing, resolved-looking woman with chestnut curls materialized beside Walten.
“MOM!?”
Kora winced at Kansten’s outburst. “I know we’re safe from prying ears, but in the Giver’s name!”
“Mom, you can’t be in Herezoth!”
Kora’s voice held a note of warning. “That’s enough. I’m here to help Vane.”
Rexson said, “All greetings aside for the moment, your daughter’s right. You really should go home.”
Kora replied, “I’m going nowhere. You need me here, Your Majesty.” Kansten’s eyes widened at her mother’s tone, which was anything but respectful of Rexson’s title. “I can forge a connection to Linstrom with Petroc’s chain. You should have sent Vane straight to me, at the start. You could have spared him the danger…. How could you send him to Partsvale like that?”
The king’s voice grew curt. “He sent himself. And I’ve hardly spared a thought for that chain in some twenty-five years.”
“Lucky you,” the sorceress muttered.
“It might not even work now,” Rexson noted. “I’ve always suspected the enchantment would fail once you triumphed over Zalski. It was meant to aid you in that struggle.”
Kora’s voice grew weak. She admitted, “I’ve wondered myself if his death would break…. Well, we don’t know for sure what being the Marked One means. I still have the ruby, don’t I? The Giver gave it to me, and it’s never come off. I’d assume the chain still works.”
Rexson insisted, “We know Zalski meddled with that necklace. He tried to alter its enchantment for his use. Tried to spy on you the same way you stalked him. He failed, or we’d never have killed him, but he might have succeeded in ruining the chain’s magic.”
Kora spoke with greater confidence now. “I’ll have to test it to find out. You do have the necklace? Zacry mentioned it when he fetched you?”
The king removed a glittering chain, red gold, from around his neck. He had worn it beneath his robes and now held it out to Kora, who took it with unsteady fingers. She nearly dropped the unfashionable, bulky necklace once, then again as she noticed the portrait above the mantel. She gathered herself, held the chain out, and mumbled to the painted duchess, “You’d better realize how much I love your son. See what this is?”
Confused, her head beginning to ache, Kansten whirled back to her brothers.
“What do you two think you’re doing? Herezoth?”
Walten retorted, “Why are you talking weird?”
Kansten crossed her arms. “Vane cast a spell. Gave me a Podrar accent, as I’ve a reason to be here. You?”
Wilhem said, “We’ve come to fight. With Uncle Zac and Vane.”
That couldn’t be. It simply could not be. A swarm of emotions descended upon Kansten: a renewal of the protective instinct she had felt toward her brothers when they were young; envy of their obvious ability to be useful; shame that she could serve no purpose, not in the crisis at hand; anger and humiliation to think they would know Herezoth just as well as, if not better than she. Herezoth.... She had urged them, for years, to come to Herezoth, knowing they would always refuse. She’d lived secure in the knowledge that the more she pleaded, the more superior she could feel when they resisted.
They had come after all, to fight. To be heroic. They would get themselves killed; Kansten would lose her brothers, and they would be martyrs for the land that should have been hers alone. Martyrs!
In the battle for control of Kansten’s heart among her wa
rring instincts, the older sister in her dominated. The guardian. “Have you two lost your minds? You’ll be dead. Stone dead. Uncle Zac can’t fix dead. Get your bottoms back home!”
Wilhem said, “Our side needs sorcerers, Kans. Listen, we’ll be fine. We’ll make a difference, being here. If you want to be useful….”
Kansten grabbed Wilhem by the tunic. “Tell me to help Grams watch the girls, and I will bash your face in.”
“KANSTEN!” Kora stepped between them, ripped Wilhem’s clothing out of his sister’s grasp. Thad had yet to speak a word, and stood gawking. Walten helped straighten his brother’s garments. The king, who had stepped aside at Kansten’s rush, was smiling.
“You named your daughter aptly,” he told Kora.
“Much too aptly,” she replied. “Kansten, calm yourself. No one’s sending you back to Traigland.”
Kansten moaned, “What are you three doing here?”
Kora said, “Walt’s going to join Vane and your uncle, when action’s taken. I’m going to stay at Oakdowns. Through this necklace, I can spy on Linstrom. I’ll know exactly what he’s up to, even what he’s thinking. It’s…. It’s darker magic than I’d choose, but it must be done, and only I can do it. As for Wilhem….”
Wilhem couldn’t grow a beard. He was practically a baby, as far as Kansten was concerned. He said, “I’m to be a messenger between Mom and the Palace. Mom and the king. Since she can’t be seen, she’ll need me to transport for her, to bring updates.”
Inside Kansten, the balance of power between her dueling emotions shifted. Pride took control: a determination to get involved in any way she could, since her bloody brothers had decided to interfere. Her mother would never agree to what she thought to propose, so she addressed the king instead.
“Let me be the messenger,” she pleaded. “I’ve a fantastic sense of direction. I remember the route to the Palace from yesterday, and I ride a horse well. I know Wilhem would be faster, but he’s a sorcerer, and Vane will need him more than you do, Sir. No one wants to say it, seeing Wilhem’s just sixteen. I don’t want to say it either. The boy’s my brother, and the last thing I want is to see him harmed, but he’s chosen to come here. If he won’t go back home, which is what he should do, Vane will need him.” Kansten demanded of her mother, “Am I a decent equestrienne?”
The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 14
