The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy)

by Grefer, Victoria

  “I do,” he said. “Believe me. You’re a special case.”

  Kora nodded her understanding of his words. She understood them a great deal more, perhaps, than he suspected. She could feel old emotions stirring someplace deep inside her, and grew terrified they might rise up before her to cloud her judgment.

  “You should go,” she whispered. “Go find Vane. You need his report, need it now.” The king took a step toward the door, and then halted as Kora proposed:

  “Perhaps next time I should send Kansten to you with letters, instead of with a summons. That might prove wiser.”

  The king retook his seat on the bed. “Come off it, Kora. We both know you’re the one with a functional relationship at home. Me…. My wife’s the reason we’re in this bloody mess. I’ll stand by her, of course. I must stand by her, but she…. How she could ever….”

  Kora remained standing. “Rexson Phinnean, Vane told me what your queen did, and why, and as a queen, it’s nigh unforgivable. She should have known better, and as king you have to acknowledge that, if only to yourself. The thing is, the woman wasn’t acting as a queen. She was a mother, a desperate mother doing the only thing she could think of to shield her children from further harm. The magicked had already kidnapped them once. What might have happened next?”

  Rexson’s voice was hard. “She could have come to me, could have told me….”

  “She was desperate,” Kora insisted. “Seeking only to save her sons. As her husband, as the father of her children, you should never hold what she’s done against her.”

  “She’s threatened the kingdom, Kora. The entirety of the kingdom, if word of Linstrom’s plot spreads too wide.”

  “That’s why, since Gracia’s not only your wife but your queen, you have to defend her, as you said. Remember why she acted the way she did, and you’ll find defending her that much easier. You’ll forgive her, you will. You forgave your brother in time, enough to name your child after him.”

  His brother Hune Menikas. Head of the Crimson League. Rexson’s youngest son was named after him, though perhaps to name the oldest Hune would have made more sense. Whatever Rexson’s explanation for waiting, Hune was the third-born of his children. The son that Kora’s daughter….

  The king would protect both Hune and Kansten. He would.

  “You must see Vane,” Kora pressed the monarch.

  He must have held small interest in continuing their conversation about Gracia, because he nodded a stiff farewell and walked to the door. “I’ll send letters with Kansten,” she reminded him. “Don’t seek me out unless you must. Unless it becomes clear you’ll need me to….”

  Kora let her voice die, unwilling to state the deed she referred to, but the king nodded again, this time to mark his comprehension: unless he needed her to dispose of Linstrom quietly. He left the room, easing the door closed.

  Zalski’s first general, then Zalski himself…. The others Kora had stalked with her chain had died as a result of the information she’d gleaned, but she, herself, had not physically killed either one. This time, if Linstrom must be assassinated, the responsibility would fall to her. Whether or not she would have to slay the man, Kora took stock of her emotions, and found herself capable of the deed. She was unsure how that knowledge made her feel about herself.

  She chose not to think of that. Or about her daughter and Hune. Her mind sought something—anything—to ponder that was not Linstrom or the prince, and hit upon Rexson’s comments that she was the one with a stable marriage.

  That was true. Her marriage was more than stable. It was the source of her confidence, of her will to persevere through the hatred she knew strangers still directed at her. The thought of life without Parker, of hurting the man who had helped her spirit heal after exile….

  That was why she had to send the king away, at the first signals of an old attachment reviving. If she had felt the old heat return, how much more must have Rexson? The king, she suspected, had never quite forgotten her. While Kora had started a new life, in a new land, Rexson was forced to spend his days in the very building from which he had leveled banishment upon her: his only recourse to release her from a mob before the townsfolk returned her to him a bloody and broken corpse. The memory of that day still zapped Kora of all energy. Some weeks she expended just as much strength attempting not to recall it, though those struggles had become easier through the years, thanks to Parker.

  Her Parker, always ruddy from the smithy, always with those well-toned arms and his brown hair clipped close to his head. The bristles on his chin made him look so distinguished…. Past forty, he had hardly begun to gray. To Kora, he had hardly changed at all since the day they met. He was her life’s one constant in the midst of her brother’s impulsivity, her mother’s sporadic aches and pains, her children growing and changing so quickly. Too quickly.

  What would Parker say about Kansten, if he’d heard the news Rexson had just divulged? He would tell his wife they must let their girl make her own way. The path she was walking would likely break her heart, but that was a part of life, and something from which they’d be wrong to shelter her. She’d recover from a broken heart, if it came to that. Kansten was as resilient as her mother.

  He would say that last, for sure, and if Kora were to argue, it could only be to name her Kancat more resilient. Kansten had reached an age to fall in love, she had, though Kora wished she could deny the fact. Nineteen years, almost twenty…. That much time could not have passed since the night Kora sat with Parker on their cottage’s grassy lawn, their backs to their home, while Kora fought “morning” sickness and told her husband she was expecting a child. She could mark as much fear as excitement in her voice, and Parker, an arm around her, had asked what had her worried.

  “The child will be a sorcerer. He’ll get that from me. What if he wants to learn magic? To go to Herezoth? That’s possible, Parker. We’re both from Herezoth. He’s bound to be curious about the place. What if he knows something like the horrors I’ve survived? What if…?”

  “We’ll take one stage of the child’s life before moving to the next. That means the pregnancy, for now. Preparing for the birth and what it means to have an infant around. All right?” Kora nodded. “I know the child will be a sorcerer. That’s something to worry about when he’s old enough to learn some magic. When he reaches that age, we’ll consider what magic means for him. When he reaches an age to strike out on his own, well, if he wants to leave Traigland, we’ll confront that then. Don’t let twenty or more years of dilemmas overwhelm you in a moment. It’s not necessary, Kora.”

  “You don’t understand, I….”

  “What don’t I understand?”

  “I decided I’d never have children. Before I got on that boat to Traigland, I swore I’d never marry. All the hatred surrounding me, the stigma, the jeers…. I still remember what those people yelled at me when Rexson threw me out the Palace, and I felt that…. Parker, the cruelest thing I could do to a person would be to make myself his mother. I couldn’t do that to a child. I wouldn’t. But then I met you, and now I….”

  “You think you’re selfish for living your life, don’t you?” Parker placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not selfish for this, Kora. You know I’d never lie about something like that. It’s not wrong to live. It’s never wrong to live. Those monsters can’t touch your baby here, and even if they could, both of us would die before we’d let them, yes ma’am we would. You don’t doubt that?”

  “No,” she said. “No, of course I don’t.”

  “Then why do you feel guilty? What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m afraid the baby will want to go home. I can’t protect my child if he goes home.”

  “You’re talking about something, what, sixteen years away? Eighteen? You can’t think about that now. I’m telling you, you’ll drive yourself mad. Think about…. Imagine teaching the boy to read. Imagine telling him all those stories your Pop told you. I’ll teach him to fish and ride a horse. This child wi
ll be as happy and as loved, as mud-splattered from play every night as any child could be.”

  That brought a smile to Kora’s lips. She folded her hands on her stomach, and Parker placed one of his on top; it was large enough to cover hers. The peace and contentment in his face, in his touch, were contagious. Kora took a calming breath and tilted her head up to kiss him. Her admission had not insulted Parker, had not dampened his joy, and as she saw that about him, she found her own serenity.

  “We’re having a baby, Parker. Good Giver, a baby! I wonder which of us he’ll look like?”

  “He’ll look like your family, if he’s lucky.”

  Their child had proved neither the son nor the sorcerer Kora expected. Kansten’s greatest struggles, in childhood, had not been the ones Kora imagined she would face. Still, the girl had soldiered through them all, and they had prepared her for whatever might lie ahead. Prepared her for Herezoth. The time had come, Kora realized, for her baby to strike out on her own. Kansten would need her mother, and would have her mother, always, but not as a guardian and caretaker. Not any longer.

  You’ve other things to take care of now. Like that chain. Linstrom.

  The mere sight of the chain turned Kora’s stomach, but she had to take it up again. She was the only one who could. With a sigh, she threw the cold metal links over her neck and returned to stalking the son of her unlikeliest old ally.

  * * *

  Valkin found August in the dining room at Oakdowns. The long oaken table was clear of food and dishes, and she sat at its head as she worked on correspondence. She glanced up warily when the crown prince entered, then smiled when she saw who her visitor was.

  “My husband’s with your father at the moment,” she told Valkin.

  “It’s you I came to see.”

  “Me?” August looked confused, but indicated he should take the seat beside her, to her right. She set her quill on her blotter. “You came at a good time, then. I just sent the children back to their lessons.”

  The duchess’s emerald-hued gown took Valkin aback. He had never seen her dressed thus when he made an unannounced, informal visit to Oakdowns. She certainly never took the time to have her hair done up on a normal day. He told her, “You’ve come a long way from reading fairy tales to my brothers and me.”

  August’s eyes moved from the silk shirt beneath his perfectly fitted jerkin to the ring on his hand. His family’s crest was carved into the band of gold. “So have you.” She must have known how striking he would find her appearance, for she told him, “I know I don’t normally dress this way at home. It might sound foolish, but I thought it might help me keep my composure while Val’s doing what he is. It’s a constant reminder of my station, of the responsibilities I took on when I married whom I did. It reminds me why I must hold together.”

  Valkin nodded his comprehension. “That’s not foolish at all,” he said. Then he paused. “Is it working?”

  “Far better than I imagined,” she conceded. The prince had no wish to dwell on the danger that threatened, so he didn’t force the topic when she asked, “What did you wish to discuss, Valkin?”

  August never addressed the princes by a title except when protocol demanded: when others were present. She loved them too much to play such games. Valkin loved her ingenuousness, and he came straight to the point as a mark of respect for her time. He wondered if she understood that compliment. Likely not. Those court subtleties were usually lost upon the common-born duchess.

  “I’m to meet with Tanya Greller. In my father’s stead. She won’t be pleased with the outcome of our exchange, and I was hoping you could advise me how to handle the situation. I know you’ve been on the receiving end of her ill will.”

  The queen had been correct to send Valkin here. August was touched that he would seek her counsel; her eyes lit up to be given this opportunity, and she smiled as she patted the royal’s hand.

  “I would be honored. It’s always astounded me that woman could be Thad’s sister.”

  “Only by marriage,” the prince reminded her.

  “Even so.”

  Tanya had married Thad’s eldest brother, Gilbert. She’d inherited the Duchy of Yangerton upon her brother’s death, and Gilbert stood to inherit the Duchy of Podrar when his aged father and Rexson’s Chief Adviser died, making the pair the most powerful nobles in Herezoth below the king.

  “Tanya Greller,” August began, “was unreceptive to my early attempts to reach out to her. I’m glad I made them, because they prevented her disdain at my birth from turning into true loathing. She still grudges giving me the time of day, but at least she maintains cordial political ties with my husband. That’s the true reason I’ve tried so hard to get on with her. She must respect Val and his place at court as legitimate. After all, she’s ruling that duchy until her son comes of age.”

  Valkin nodded, and August continued, “What I’ve always found interesting about Tanya is the comparison between her treatment of me, whom she judges a common whore, and those she deems her peers. She’s haughty even around her equals. Even around the queen. Your first danger is that she’ll judge meeting with you, and not your father, to be an insult.”

  “I plan to assure her I’ve taken all the king’s duties. That her business is too important to postpone discussion.”

  “Good,” August approved. “That will stress your decision is final. That’s important.”

  Valkin sighed. “So I’m not alone in thinking she might seek my father out when her session with me ends poorly?”

  “She won’t if you explain things as you just outlined them. She wouldn’t dare.”

  “I can’t have her thinking she can force her will on me. On top of that, I won’t have the woman bothering my father when he’s occupied with…. With what he’s trying to settle.”

  August smiled. “Valkin, you’re astute. You know your strengths, and more importantly, can admit your weaknesses. That’s something Tanya Greller can’t say. Don’t doubt that your father taught you well. You could handle far more contentious matters than those of the Duchess of Yangerton.”

  August’s last words convinced Valkin she could sense his dread of the future, and he would not dishonor her with a lie on that account. Neither could he admit what he felt, but she didn’t ask him to.

  “Don’t forget you handled a crisis as difficult as any your father’s faced, at the age of eleven. I watched you do it, over some forty days, when my sister and those sorcerers kidnapped you. When I found out what she’d done and first went down to see you, do you remember what you did?”

  The prince thought back. “I didn’t know who you were. That you had nothing to do with your sister’s crimes. I thought you were another member of her enterprise, another sorcerer like that man who’d taken us.”

  “You jumped in front of Hune and Neslan,” she reminded him. “Shouted that you were the oldest, the crown prince, so I’d have the most to gain from using you as a bargaining tool. If I were to threaten someone, or hurt someone, it should be you. That if I wanted something from your father in exchange for his sons’ return, holding you hostage by yourself would be sufficient. I should release your brothers, you said. That would make the king more open to negotiations. I’ll never forget how you bargained to save your brothers, not as long as I live.”

  Valkin sighed. “I told the real culprits the same, but it did no good. They were too thick to listen. As thick-skulled as Tanya Greller.”

  “You’re eleven no longer, Valkin. And you’re approaching Tanya from a position of power, which is more than you could say of trying to convince my sister to release Neslan. To return Hune home. You spoke as well as anyone in your position could have, and never, may I add, for yourself. When your pleas went unheeded, you turned your attention to maintaining an unstable status quo that at least kept you all unbound and uninjured, if locked in a basement while you trusted your father to see to your rescue. And he did. What you accomplished through the course of that month, almost two, it was no small
feat.”

  August let out a little sigh. “I still wonder from time to time whether I couldn’t have done more for you. I was terrified of making a horrid situation worse, like you were. I worried that if I interfered beyond what my sister allowed, you would suffer for it.”

  “August, we’ve always known you did everything you could for us. Always loved you for that. You bringing us food, that’s one thing. I imagine your sister made you see us fed, and even if you did nothing else, that much would have deserved our thanks. But no one made you spend hours with us, telling jokes, reading stories, keeping our spirits up. You did that out of the goodness of your heart. Words can’t describe how glad I’ve always been you married Vane. He’s the only man I can think of who comes anything close to deserving you.”

  “If I can learn to be a duchess, you can be king, Valkin. You can.”

  He kept the bitterness he felt from his voice, but could not help correcting her. “There’s no can or can’t about it. I must,” he said. He could trust her to keep this exchange private. She patted his hand again, and he returned the conversation to the Duchess of Yangerton. “I’ve rarely spoken alone with Tanya Greller. What must I avoid doing, in your experience?”

  August went into specifics: mistakes she had made, tart exchanges she had witnessed between Tanya and other noblewomen. Valkin had never realized how observant August could be, how apt her memory for a facial expression. He made a note of that. Those skills could prove useful in the future. When August finished speaking half an hour later, Valkin knew he would have no trouble with the Duchess of Yangerton.

  Valkin kissed August’s cheek as he rose to depart, and said, “I’m glad you’ve become more visible at court these past years. You do understand, no, that those whose opinion holds weight are never loath to see you? That those who snub you pay for being crass, in subtle ways? My mother sees to that. And then my father, his advisers, they hold those factions in small esteem. As do I. As shall I always. You’re worth more than the net value of those blackguards’ estates.”