The Drinnglennin Chronicles Omnibus

by K. C. Julius

  But when she opened the book, a single sheet of paper slipped from between its pages. It was another poem, dated only a few days ago.

  I thought the sun still shone

  in this cerulean sky

  but now that you are come,

  each shift of light outside

  your bright presence

  shadows my days

  like a low, dark cloud;

  the thunder of my longing heart

  grows ever loud

  I have no will to resist

  the yearning cord

  that binds me to you,

  even as I wish

  that I might forget,

  you inhabit every breath

  of my waking hours,

  and each dreaming glimpse

  through unspent tears.

  There is no sun, lest you are near.

  * * *

  A gentle rapping woke Maura, and she opened her eyes to dawn’s light. She was still propped upright on the pillows, her body stiff and her mind bleary. She opened the door to admit the same sandy-haired soldier from before, now bearing her breakfast tray, and she bombarded him with questions.

  But the man knew no more about Borne’s fate, or Yasiha’s, or what was transpiring out in the city, than he had yesterday. “You’re safe enough here, mistress,” he reassured her. “And we’ll all be leaving Tell-Uyuk shortly.”

  “Without your commander?”

  Her question was met with a pained silence, and when the door closed behind the man, she had to blink back tears at thought of her beloved, who would be left by his comrades to linger in the Zindan.

  She had no appetite, so after splashing water on her face, she paced the confines of her own prison, feeling she would go mad if she didn’t escape it soon. In addition to her concerns about Borne, and Yasiha, and all of Tell-Uyuk for that matter, she was keenly aware that the dark moon was only two days hence. When it arrived, Ilyria would too—and Maura had to be on the other side of the city gates by then.

  So when D’Avencote finally came to check on her, she begged him to allow her to leave the barracks at once.

  “I’m a member of the Basilea’s household,” she said firmly. “It’s my duty to go to the palace to see if Khadin Yasiha has returned there safely. And while I’m there, I can find out what’s happened to Ser Borne as well.”

  The Gralian shook his head. “There’s no need for you to do this, mistress. Comte Balfou is already at the palace himself, to witness Khadin Yasiha’s marriage. He intends to petition on Borne’s behalf while he is there, as well as on behalf of our embassy.”

  Maura was relieved by the news, but shook her head in confusion. “Petition on his behalf? But surely, if Ser Borne’s marriage to the princess is proceeding, then he has already been released?”

  D’Avencote blinked at her. “Khadin Yasiha is to marry Hazar Kurash, mistress.”

  Maura stared at him in mute incomprehension. “But…”

  “The hazar himself made the announcement to all of Tell-Uyuk this morning from the Grand Balkon, with Khadin Yasiha his side. It’s said she has never looked more radiant.” D’Avencote heaved a sigh of relief. “I feared I’d failed in my duty by not keeping the princess here, but it seems she was never in danger, nor will she ever be again—not with such a powerful man as her husband.”

  Maura knew then that it was she who had failed—for she didn’t for one moment believe that Yasiha was marrying Kurash willingly. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to keep this travesty of a wedding from proceeding. But how?

  The first step to a solution presented itself immediately, in the form of a soldier who loomed up behind D’Avencote with a large parcel in his arms.

  “Mistress Melisa has received a summons from the palace,” the young man said. “There’s a Companion outside our gates waiting to escort her there at once.”

  D’Avencote paled. “But I promised—”

  “It’s as I told you,” said Maura. “I’m in service to the princess, and she needs me—today of all days.” She eyed the bundle still in the young soldier’s grasp. “Is that meant for me?”

  “It is, mistress.”

  Maura tilted her head toward the bed. “If you would be so kind as to place it there? Then please tell my escort I shall be along shortly.”

  She smiled sweetly at D’Avencote, then closed the door on him.

  The splendid violet silk gown the Basilea had given her was under the wrapping. There could be only one reason the princess had sent Maura this finery: to wear to her wedding. An enameled box was also enclosed, holding a magnificent sapphire necklace and pendant earrings. And with the gems was a letter, bearing Yasiha’s familiar seal. The letter stated that Melisa had been released from the princess’s service and was granted leave to depart Olquaria with the Gralian embassy. The princess commended Melisa on duties well carried out, and bequeathed to her the jewels as a parting gift of thanks. The final line requested her presence at the princess’s wedding to Hazar Kurash.

  No mention was made of Borne Braxton.

  With a practiced ease learned in her days at Drinnkastel, Maura slipped on the gown and donned the sapphires. The only glass in Borne’s room was hung too high for her to see into, so she merely ran her fingers through her hair and left it to spill over her shoulders. Then she tucked Yasiha’s letter into her sleeve and left Borne’s chamber.

  Although her exquisite attire drew a fair bit of attention as she crossed the barracks, she met with no challenge. Exiting the gates, she was pleased to find that the Companion awaiting her was none other than Yasiha’s cousin Mir, who had led the eniyara in the ill-fated yaraket the previous day. She recalled he had been on friendly terms with Borne, which reassured her.

  His dark eyes lit up when he saw her, but he spoke not a word as he escorted her to the waiting palanquin, and she took his silence as a subtle warning that unfriendly ears might be listening. After he had handed her into the litter, he leaned in to caution her not to open the curtains, even the slightest bit.

  “Please trust me,” he said in her native tongue. Then he drew the curtains closed and she was lifted into the air, the hoofbeats of her escort’s horse preceding the litter through the narrow streets.

  Maura’s thoughts leapt from Borne to Yasiha to Ilyria, then back to Borne. Was there a way to stop this forced marriage between Yasiha and the awful Kurash? A way to free Borne, perhaps with the comte’s assistance, and bring him together with the princess he so truly loved?

  Even if she managed it somehow, Borne would have to flee Tell-Uyuk. Would Yasiha go with him—abandoning her people, her position, her home? Was her love that strong? And if Maura couldn’t stop the wedding, couldn’t free Borne, couldn’t fix anything—all of which seemed likely to the point of near certainty—how could she bear to leave Tell-Uyuk when Ilyria arrived, abandoning Borne to die in the bowels of the Zindan?

  For a time these plaguing worries kept Maura from noticing the unusual quiet on the avenues leading to the palace. They were usually teeming with people, but now, no sounds of activity reached her behind the curtains. Her fingers itched to twitch the drapes open, but she recalled Mir’s admonishment and stayed her hand.

  At last the litter came to a stop, and she was lowered to the ground.

  Mir spoke softly through the curtain. “We’ve reached our destination. It is not the palace—the princess issued the invitation to her wedding in the event that it was needed to get you out of the Gralian barracks. Wait here. Someone will come for you.”

  Maura heard a soft rapping, then the sound of retreating hoofbeats.

  There was the creak of a gate, then the curtains parted.

  Maura caught her breath. The face before her was one she had feared she’d never see again.

  Chapter 38

  Borne

  A silent acolyte, cl
oaked in pale linen, led Borne down an unfamiliar corridor of the House of All-Knowing. The chamber he found at its end was surprisingly grand for so humble an abode, its furnishings crafted of precious wood and embossed with ivory and jade. Long shafts of light streamed in through the leaded glass, and the scent of sandalwood uncoiled in the air.

  Princess Yasiha, shrouded in a white robe, her dark, lustrous hair covered, stood before the tall windows. Something in her impassive expression told Borne he should stay where he was. He offered her a low bow. As he rose from his salute, she bridged the distance between them and took up his hands.

  “We shall not have much time,” she said. “The hazar’s men are scouring every corner of the city for you. I will tell you what you came to hear, and then you must go. I am marrying Kurash of my own free will. You will depart with the Gralian embassy, and Mir will see you to refuge in a secure place until he can find a way to smuggle you out of the city and get you to Rizo to board their ship. He’s made sure Kurash received a report confirming that you fled with a caravan heading to the east—though for now, the hazar continues to relentlessly seek you here in the city.”

  “Yasiha.” Borne gave her hands a gentle shake. “I cannot leave you to Kurash.”

  “Nonsense.” The steel of her aunt’s iron will echoed in her voice. “He has professed his undying love for me. Following our wedding, he will accept the Imperial Scepter and I shall be crowned Basilea of Olquaria.” She lifted her chin proudly. “And one day, if the gods bless me with a son, he will be Basileus. As for my husband, I will accept my duty to him, out of the love my mother bore her only sister, Shareen. As long as she and my uncle remain in exile, no harm shall befall them.”

  She looked down at their joined hands, and her voice softened. “I would have made you a loving wife, Ser Borne. But I could never have made you happy. I… I read your poems.”

  Borne felt a jolt run through him. “My poems?”

  Yasiha nodded. “After we left the Censibas, Melisa took me to your barracks, thinking it was the safest place to await news of you. We found the poems there.”

  The thought of Maura reading of Borne’s burning love for her, even unaware that she was his muse…

  “She thought they were for me,” Yasiha continued, “but I know I wasn’t your inspiration. Apparently she missed the dates on the back of each page. The poems were written before you arrived in Olquaria.” She looked up at him, her dark eyes reflecting both hurt and acceptance. “You wrote them for her, didn’t you? Melisa… or whatever her real name is.”

  “Maura.” His cheeks burned as he uttered her name. “But how did you—”

  “The dog. She knew him and he knew her. It started me thinking then… about how vehemently she insisted she didn’t want to meet you, and the fuss she made over staying veiled. It was because of you. You knew each other before she came to Olquaria, didn’t you?”

  “We did. But I swear to you that I only realized who she was a short while ago.”

  Yasiha gave him an appraising look. “And yet you still went forward with your proposal to me. Why?”

  Borne released a long breath. “The lady doesn’t share my feelings, nor is she aware of them. I came here hoping to make a fresh start.” He shook his head. “I thought I had. I should have told you at once when I discovered who she really was. I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t help but wonder why she took such pains to keep you in the dark about her identity.” Yasiha released his hands. “But I suppose that’s none of my concern. It’s turned out best for us all. I shall honor my obligations to my family, and have standing and power beyond any I could have dreamt of.” She lifted her chin, as if defying him to contradict her. “There is much I can achieve for my people with this change in fortune—and for this too, I shall count myself blessed.”

  She took a step back and eyed him solemnly. “Now you must go, and take my best wishes with you, along with this piece of advice: it’s not too late for you to follow your heart.”

  “I’m grateful for your good wishes, undeserving as I am of them. But what my heart desires is not in anyone’s best interests.”

  “Perhaps you’re not the best judge of this.” Yasiha held out her slender, jeweled fingers.

  Borne placed his lips against them. “Basilea,” he murmured. He bowed deeply, then backed from the room.

  * * *

  When he exited the House of All-Knowing, Mir was gone, but five mounted Companions waited for him out on the quiet street. One of them, a man Borne remembered from the Nalè expedition, silently tossed him the reins of a riderless droma. Borne mounted the beast, and they set off at a jog through a warren of narrow lanes. At a familiar crossroads, the riders veered south, proceeding past the tall iron grilles behind which Taqui-Rash resided, then left Borne on his friend’s doorstep before departing with the extra droma in tow.

  The door was unlocked, so Borne let himself into the cool shadows of the house. But he’d only just reached the courtyard when there came a knock on the door through which he’d entered, and he heard the sound of a rider out on the street. The noise startled a flock of pale-green and yellow birds roosting on the beams of the open rooftop, and they swooped against the azure sky before dipping out of sight.

  He retraced his steps and cracked the door open. A palanquin had been set down before it, and its bearers were nowhere in sight.

  Borne bent to lift its curtain.

  Maura looked up at him with her heart-stopping eyes, clearly as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

  “Maura?” He reached for her hand. “Quickly—come inside.”

  Wordlessly, she let him lead her into the inner courtyard, where he turned to face her. He had not foreseen that even now, the world still seemed to recede in her presence, leaving only her at its core. He drank in the tilt of her chin, the curve of her mouth, her honeyed skin.

  He knew if he moved, it would be to sweep her up into his arms, so he held himself still as she searched his face in return.

  “You’re pale,” she said softly. “Did they hurt you in the Zindan?”

  His lips, thirsting for hers, offered her instead the most reassuring smile he could muster. “I’m in one piece.” He ran his eyes over her sumptuous gown. “You’re dressed for court. Were you planning on attending the wedding at the palace?”

  A little pucker appeared between her brows, and he had to resist the urge to smooth it.

  “You know, then?” Her eyes grew dark with concern. “I’m so sorry, Borne. I hoped that I could get to Yasiha and try to convince her not to go through with it. Indeed, I was led to believe your friend Mir was taking me to the princess when he collected me from the barracks. But before he left me here, he confessed that I was not invited to the ceremony after all. Shall I try to go anyway, and at least take Yasiha a message from you?”

  “I’ve just seen Yasiha,” he said. “And she’s determined to marry the hazar. He’s promised to make her Basilea, and she swears she’s content.”

  “I see.” Maura bit her lower lip, then took up his hand and gently squeezed it, heedless of the fire her touch ignited in him. “You look like you could use a drink. I know I could. Alima Nina must have been expecting us both. She’s left a banquet of refreshments.” She gestured to the spread of food laid out on a low table at the far side of the courtyard.

  Borne realized he was starving, and once he was seated, Maura poured them both a fine claret, then settled across from him.

  “What will you do?” she asked quietly.

  “Since I doubt Comte Balfou will be able to sway Kurash to change his mind about expelling the embassy, I’ll return to Gral with Balfou and my men—provided I can get to Rizo in time to board their ship. But first I must get you safely to the barracks. Balfou can send for anything you need collected from the seraglio.”

  Maura gave him a little smile. “I haven’t much, except for
a cloak I should like to keep. But I can fetch it myself. In any event—”

  “I don’t think that’s wise, under the circumstances.” Borne pictured the potential scene that could play out if Maura and Yasiha were to meet again. Not only had the khadin learned of her tutor’s deception, she now knew of Borne’s feelings for Maura. And although Yasiha hadn’t given Borne the impression that she felt scorned, might she not still be tempted to expose him? “You’re better off under the Gralian embassy’s protection until we take ship.”

  Maura set down the stuffed fig she’d lifted to her lips. “I’m not going with the Gralians.”

  “What do you mean? All foreigners have been ordered out of Olquaria. You can’t seriously be thinking of trying to stay on.”

  “I didn’t say I’m not leaving Olquaria, just that I’m not going on a ship to Gral. I… I have another means of travel arranged.”

  “Surely not one that can ensure you such safe passage.”

  Maura lifted her chin. “I’ll take my chances.”

  For a tense moment, they faced off across the table. Then Maura released a long breath.

  “We’re both tired, and I have no wish to quarrel or seem ungrateful. I know you have my best interests at heart, but from here on, our paths are destined to go in different directions.” She sat back and studied his face, then seemed to come to a decision. “Master Morgan told me I could trust you. He was proven right in Drinnkastel, and again here, when you didn’t give me away to Yasiha. The reason why I’m not going with you is because…” Her expression suddenly brightened. “Before I came to Drinnkastel to care for my uncle, I became dragonfast.”