The Drinnglennin Chronicles Omnibus

by K. C. Julius

Borne, who’d been expecting to be congratulated, felt his mouth drop. “I have no wish to renege on my offer of marriage.”

  “Even if in doing so, you would allow Yasiha a chance at true happiness? And yourself as well, for that matter?”

  “Did you not hear me when I said that Kurash will claim her if I do not?”

  Alima Nina raised an eyebrow at his tone. “There is nothing wrong with my hearing, young man.” She lifted her glittering cup and held it out for him to admire. “There are only two porcelain cups like this in all the Known World. They were crafted by the artist Quajar Rang himself, and are said to be identical. They’ve been in my family for generations, passed down from mothers to their eldest daughters on the eve of their weddings. Would you say they are irreplaceable?”

  Borne gently tightened his hold on the cup in his hands. “I would, Alima. I am honored that you trust me with one of them.”

  Alima Nina nodded, then brought her cup down hard on the table, cracking it in two. She lifted half of the broken cup and held it out to him. “What would you say if I offered this to you? What is it worth? It can no longer brim with hot, heartwarming chay. If you wrap your fingers around it, it will only cut them. Indeed, it is difficult to hold at all, without doing yourself injury.”

  She attempted to set it back on the table, where it rocked onto its side. “It cannot even stand on its own. Would you consider it a worthy gift, Ser Borne?”

  “I—”

  “You would not,” Alima Nina asserted. “And so it will be, should you enter into a marriage to which you bring less than all your heart can hold. It is worse, in fact—far worse—to impose such a fate on your intended bride than the one from which you are so nobly, if inconsiderately, determined to rescue her. For despite her protestations to the contrary, the day will come when she will long for you to feel the depth of passion that she does for you. What you have to offer her—although it is meant as a kindness—will break her in a way that no cruelty of Kurash’s could.

  “I know you mean well, my son, but your heart is not yours to command. And hence, Yasiha can never be its mistress.”

  Borne frowned. “How can you be so certain of this?”

  “Because I have learned the hard way that you must put aside one dish before you can taste another. Do you really believe this girl can cleanse your palate?”

  Her question offended him. “I’m not using Yasiha, if that what you’re implying. Whatever I once felt for Maura is… in the past.”

  Alima Nina smiled sadly. “The past is the step that lifts us over the threshold of our future, but it doesn’t disappear as we move forward.”

  Borne pushed aside the flicker of doubt she’d planted in his mind and carefully set down his cup. “I don’t agree. I’m sorry that your sacrifice of such a precious heirloom was in vain.”

  Alima Nina gathered the shards of the cup and cradled them in her palm. “I am satisfied you heard what I had to say. This,” she said, lifting the shattered pieces, “felt no pain—unlike a heart when it breaks.”

  She rose stiffly to her feet. “It’s late. I hope you will forgive me if I ask you to see yourself out?”

  As she retreated into the gloom of the house, Borne made his way back through the courtyard. Alima Nina’s dismissal had been abrupt to the point of rudeness, but then he had come uninvited, bearing news that, contrary to his expectations, had clearly disappointed her.

  Under a veil of stars, he stepped out onto the quiet street to confront the truth he’d denied ever since he’d recognized those violet eyes. Not only did Maura still occupy his stubbornly unwavering heart, she was entrenched there for all time.

  And now, though he’d striven to do all in his power to put a world between them, she had entered his sphere once more.

  Chapter 29

  Halla

  Lady Inis, deaf to Halla’s and Whit’s pleas for Lorendale’s support of Fynn Konigur, counseled her son against what she termed “a foolhardy road to the executioner’s block.” When Halla argued for the need to keep the realm unified under a just king if they were to confront the evil that Lazdac Strigori was brewing up in Drak Icar, her mother went off on a tirade over her riding off with Whit, “like a common hoyden,” to gallivant across the Known World.

  “If you’d done your duty, you’d have been properly wed”—she dropped her voice—“before this babe came. Now you’ve brought shame on our house.”

  ”Aunt! That’s hardly—”

  Lady Inis wheeled on Whit. “You’re as much to blame, if not more, Whit Alcott! If you had a shred of decency, you would have waited—”

  Halla grabbed hold of Whit’s arm. “We’re leaving. She won’t listen.”

  Her mother pulled herself up to her full height. “Leaving? I don’t—”

  “You don’t have anything to say in the matter,” Halla retorted.

  To Halla’s surprise, Whit put his arm around her. “If Halla wishes to leave, she shall do so, and in my care.”

  “Your care?” Lady Inis snapped. ”We’ve all seen where your care has gotten her.”

  Whit flushed. “You’re wrong about Halla, aunt. She will bring only honor to Lorendale, and Drinnglennin will sing of her in years to come.”

  Halla flashed Whit a warning look, for she feared he was about to tell her mother she was dragonfast. With reports of dragon attacks in the north, she didn’t want to stir this particular pot and set vengeful troops after Emlyn.

  But Whit seemed to be warming to playing the role of Halla’s intended. Once they’d reached the courtyard, he further overruled her mother when Halla declined a carriage, and sent a stableboy off to saddle her horse. Her mother didn’t know, of course, that Halla would in fact be traveling to Cardenstowe by dragonflight, or that Whit would move under the shadow of his magic to get past the Nelvor army encamped around his castle. Nor did she have any inkling that Alegre wouldn’t be with either of them.

  Under a bright summer sky, Halla bade farewell to Pearce, who’d grown a foot since she’d last seen him. He embraced her carefully, as though motherhood had made her suddenly fragile. She wished she could have spent some time with her youngest brother, and find out how he’d fared since she’d been away.

  Gray didn’t come to say goodbye, and Nolan, although present, couldn’t meet her eye. And it was not lost on Halla that, once again, she and her mother were parting in anger. It made it easier for her to leave Lorendale though. And she was very much looking forward to meeting Fynn, of whom her cousin sang such praise. After Whit’s account of his experience with the unsavory Roth of Nelvorboth, she was of no two minds about whom she would prefer to serve.

  She tried not to wince when she swung onto Rowlan, Alegre in a sling at her breast. She was sorer than she’d expected to be, but she gritted her teeth against the pain so as not to add fuel to her mother’s fire over the refused coach.

  With Whit at her side, they rode out through Lorendale’s gates, then headed toward Lords Wood, where she hoped they’d find the å Livåri campsite hidden in its former place. Nolan had confirmed that her old friends had still been there a week ago, but by now, they might have moved on.

  When she gave her old whistle across the ravine, her mind was flooded with memories of all the times she’d stood right here, signaling her presence, and she had to blink back tears. She would have to tell Florian, before anything else, about Bria’s death, and she had no wish to add to his misery by giving in to her own.

  As for her request, it would come after. Looking down at the tiny child asleep against her chest, Halla drank in the curve of her cheeks and the pucker of her rosebud lips. Alegre, as if sensing she was being admired, awoke, and solemnly surveyed her mother with her remarkable glittering eyes. Although Halla followed no gods, she found herself praying that these would not be the last moments she shared with her daughter.

  An answering whistle roused her from
the turmoil of her thoughts, and Florian stepped out from behind the screening firs, holding the hand of a small boy. From his bright eyes and the tilt of his nose, Halla knew at once the child was Vesel, the orphaned son of Bria and Ilie.

  Florian’s smile faded at the sight of Whit, for Halla had never before brought anyone to meet her secret friends. She gave a reassuring wave, then rode down the slope with Whit trailing after her. Leaping from her horse, she embraced Florian, the baby between them, then introduced her cousin, who surprised her by putting his palm to his heart in the å Livåri greeting.

  As the two men sized one another up, Halla crouched down before the boy, who looked back at her through his mother’s long lashes.

  “I’m very happy to meet you, Vesel.” She drew back the blanket so he could see the baby, who was flailing her tiny fists. “And so is Alegre.”

  Vesel offered Alegre his little finger. When she grasped it, his smile transformed his solemn face into a mirror of his father’s.

  “I wonder,” Halla murmured, “if I might speak to your uncle alone for a little while?”

  Whit squatted beside her. “Are there any fish in that stream?”

  Vesel’s eyes widened at Whit’s ignorance. “Of course there are! I’ll show you.” He took hold of Whit’s hand and led him toward the rushing water.

  Halla broke the news to Florian of his sister’s death as gently as she could, sparing the gruesome details. But when she’d finished, they both had tears running down their cheeks.

  “I am glad you were with her… in the end,” Florian said. “And that you, at least, have returned to us. And with your child!”

  ”I can’t stay,” Halla confessed. “I’m leaving Lorendale today. But before I do, I have a favor to ask of you. One that I pray you will not refuse.”

  After she’d explained what she wished of him and why, Florian lifted Alegre from her arms, then waved Vesel back to sit beside him on a log.

  “Alegre is going to live with us for a time,” Florian announced.

  Vesel eyed the baby doubtfully. “Why?”

  “Because her mother was your mother’s åthinoi.”

  Halla swallowed the sob that rose in her throat. “That’s true. And your mother was as true a sister as I could ever have hoped for. She… she would be so happy if you and Alegre could be friends.”

  The cloud that had begun to gather on the boy’s face lifted. “Now I will have a sister.”

  “Whom you will watch over like a fox with his kit,” Florian agreed.

  He got to his feet, then passed Alegre to Halla. “Now—you must meet Nuri. She has a baby boy, and plenty of milk to spare for your little one.”

  Halla flashed him a look of gratitude, for everything about what had just transpired convinced her that she wouldn’t regret her decision. Even if her mother had agreed to care for Alegre until Halla returned, the child would be known to all Lorendale as a half-breed bastard with bewitched eyes. Here, among people who honored a birthmark or an extra finger as a mark of favor from their gods, Alegre would suffer no cruelty.

  As if reading her thoughts, Florian reached for her hand. “We will love her as one of our own.”

  “I know.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “She’ll have what I always longed for—the freedom to be true to her spirit. And you and your people can stay on here in Lords Wood for as long as you like. Nolan doesn’t know I’m leaving Alegre in your care, but he’s given me his word that no one will trouble you. He remembers our father telling him you sheltered here in the summers, and that he should continue to allow this.”

  As Whit and Vesel walked back to join them, the baby stirred in Halla’s arms, and she ran a gentle finger over her silken cheek. “I hope it won’t be too long before I’m back.”

  But in her heart, she knew there was no certainty of this. Even if the other lords of the realm swiftly united in support of Fynn Konigur, Roth and Grindasa would rally Nelvorboth and Tyrrencaster to their side to try to put down any rebellion against his claim. And if the current High King called in his Albrenian kin, the civil war would turn into a wider, bloodier conflict. She and Emlyn were bound to be right in the thick of it.

  Such a war would play nicely into Lazdac’s hands. Still, Halla brightened at the thought that if Roth did call on Albrenia for reinforcements, it would bring the hateful murderer of Alegre’s father within striking range. And when Halla met Palan again, she planned to exact sweet revenge for all whom he’d sent to their doom.

  “We’ll be here through the fall,” Florian assured her, “but then we must head south. I fear for our people wherever we are, but there are more of us in Glornadoor. The tide is turning fast against us everywhere on the Isle. We’re even being blamed for the foul weather.”

  “It will be different when Fynn Konigur takes the Einhorn Throne.” It was the first time Whit had spoken directly to Florian. “He’s a young man of principle, and a friend to the å Livåri. Indeed, his closest companion is one of your people.”

  Florian inclined his head upon learning this, but his expression remained skeptical.

  When the four of them entered the å Livåri camp, Halla wasn’t surprised that no one came to greet her. It seemed only a handful of the Arges family had survived the slavers’ attack in which Florian’s sister was taken captive. These others, from similarly reduced clans, had joined the Arges to seek safety in numbers. They had no idea who Halla was.

  Florian called to a young woman with a babe at her breast. “Nuri! Come and meet our guests.”

  Halla knew she should make this second parting of the day swift, but she couldn’t refuse the berry wine the woman who would nurse Alegre offered them. For a brief time, Halla and Florian spoke of happier days—climbing the rocky face of Gothor’s Chimney, chasing each other through the trees and swimming in the river—but without Bria’s musical voice chiming in, the memories made the ache of her absence even worse.

  “Do you remember the time Baba Veta read my palm?” Halla said, to fill the silence that had fallen. “She forked her fingers after looking at it.” She lowered her voice. “I think… perhaps she saw I would witness Bria’s death.”

  After a slight pause, Florian said, “Baba Veta was a wise woman, and even if she did foresee this, she didn’t hold you responsible. She would have forbidden you from visiting us if she had.”

  Halla felt the prick of tears, and Florian put his arm around her and leaned his head against hers.

  “You could have done nothing to prevent what happened to her, Halla.”

  “I know,” Halla said, wiping her face on her sleeve, “but it doesn’t make her absence any easier to bear.”

  Whit had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange of memories, but now he cleared his throat, and Halla sensed he was eager for them to be on their way. Rising to her feet, she carried Alegre over to Nuri, who sat sunning her sleeping son. Wordlessly, Nuri lifted Alegre from Halla’s arms and settled her next to her boy in the cradle of cloth at her breast.

  “We’ll take good care of her,” Nuri said with a smile, and her little boy stirred and flung his arm across the newcomer beside him. “Look! Padrain loves her already.”

  “I will love her more.” Vesel was at Halla’s elbow, frowning at Padrain’s encroachment on his new sister.

  “You’ll be a wonderful brother to them both, Vesel,” Nuri agreed.

  The boy brightened, then trotted back to Florian. “I have a new sister and a new brother, Kak!”

  Then Nuri bestowed upon Halla the three kisses of farewell. “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “She will be here, happy and healthy, when you return.”

  Halla didn’t trust herself to reply. She bent and kissed Padrain’s milky cheek, then Alegre’s. “Ståi bein, ångerulekeu,” she whispered.

  Stay well, my angel.

  * * *

  They’d been back on the r
oad for less than an hour when Whit began to fuss over her. “Do you need a rest? Or a drink from my flagon?”

  Halla gave him a sidelong look. “Such solicitude,” she teased. “You’d think you really were my husband-to-be.”

  Whit colored, and she laughed outright. “What’s this? A blush in place of a biting retort? Are you still suffering from a guilty conscience over your devious cairn?”

  “No, I’m… well, maybe a bit,” he admitted.

  Halla slapped his arm lightly with her reins. “Well, stop it. I should actually thank you for misdirecting me that day. If you hadn’t, we might really be married by now.” She gave a shiver of mock horror, then looked up at the arching boughs overhead. “As it is, I’m spared a life of dreary confinement. Gods, how I hated those dull hours in my lady mother’s care, always in the company of her women, the endless embroidering and prayers. I can still hear that snide Lady Ellis passing judgment on anyone out of earshot—and on me, too, even though I was not. I could barely breathe, trapped in that stuffy chamber, and all I longed for was the feel of the breeze on my face. When Lady Aniston would snatch up whatever I was working on and tear out all my clumsy stitches, it was all I could do to keep from sticking my needle into the back of her bony hand and then bolt out through the window. I spent hours contemplating the leap from the sill to the nearest branch beyond it.”

  Whit grinned. “I’d have liked to be a spider in the corner had you’d tried it.” Then he sobered. “I guess we both suffered for not living up to our parents’ expectations.”

  Halla raised her brows. “How did you suffer? You’re an only child—a son. You had your parents’ undivided attention.”

  Whit gave an incredulous laugh. “Hardly. To get my father’s approval, I’d’ve had to kneel in silence for hours in the chapel, although I doubt even that would have had the desired effect. It was the same with my mother—day in and day out, prayers together with her ladies. I found no pleasure in the gods, and couldn’t hope to compete with them for my parents’ attention. So as soon as I learned to read, I escaped to my books, which only served to increase my parents’ disappointment in me.”