Kingslayer

by Honor Raconteur

  Grygotis, probably more stunned than hurt, lost his grip on her and sank to one knee, hand rising reflexively to cover his ear. “You hit me?” he gasped out incredulously.

  Darius shook off his own surprise and quickly moved in between them, putting Amalah safely at his back.

  “Darius,” she whispered.

  He risked a quick smile over his shoulder. “You did well. But let me fight the rest of this, eh?”

  “You don’t have the right to interfere, much less fight me.” Grygotis slowly regained his feet, glaring at Darius as he moved.

  “She is my friend,” Darius returned steadily. “That gives me every right.”

  “Oh?” Grytotis’s lip curled in a mocking sneer. “I thought you were the savior of all women.”

  “If I need to be. It’s ridiculous, really, that I’m forced to take on that role. Especially against you. You should be the first man to respond to her distress, not the cause of it.”

  From the side, Raj Sebresos cleared his throat in a meaningful way. Darius shot him a glance. The man had been powerfully built at one point, with a large frame. Now, it had largely deserted him as old age crept in, leaving only the traces of his glory days behind. Amalah had his eyes, but that was the only similarity between them. “Even if you are her friend, General Bresalier, you do not have the right to come between them.”

  “And you,” Darius responded acidly, “should be the second man to automatically come to her defense. And yet here you sit, calmly watching her public humiliation. Does the love of a daughter not exist in this country?”

  Sebresos flushed in shame and refused to meet his eyes after that.

  “I will properly escort her home,” Darius informed them with cold finality. “If I find another mark on her, the first person to pay for it will be you, Grygotis. You will be the second, Sebresos. I will not tolerate this.”

  Grygotis stepped toe to toe with him. Since the man stood a half hand taller, he used his advantage of height to loom over Darius. If he wanted to intimidate the shorter general, it failed miserably, as Darius met him head on. “You won’t do anything of the sort,” Grygotis breathed.

  “You can give me your word, right now, that you will never raise your hand against her again,” Darius snarled back, “or I can break both your arms. Your choice.”

  Grygotis faltered under the weight of the stare and his eyes flinched away. No surprise there. Bullies never had the confidence to really fight against someone stronger than them. That was why they always preyed on those weaker.

  “Your word, Grygotis,” Darius demanded.

  “Fine,” he spat out. “You have it.”

  “Good.” Turning, he offered his hand to Amalah. She took it with a grateful look, her grip on him far stronger than it needed to be. He read the body language well enough: Get me out of here. NOW.

  Payam darted around them to pick up the discarded mirror box and the book. He gave the boy a thankful nod before turning on his heel and leading them out of the deadly silent courtyard.

  In the silence of the hallway, with no one around them, Darius didn’t quite know what to say to her. She was hurt, and embarrassed, and probably still a little angry. He predicted that she’d either start raging or crying in a minute, when the emotions truly hit her.

  In a rattled, shaky tone, Amalah said, “I think I broke the cover of the book.”

  To Darius, that wasn’t important. He studied her from the corner of his eye as he responded, “I’ll get it fixed. Was it a borrowed one?”

  “No.” She took in a breath. Let it out. “A gift from my grandmother.”

  “Ah. I’m sure they can restore it, like new.”

  “Yes. I’m just glad the mirror wasn’t broken in the struggle.” She still had it in her hand, clutched against her chest in a vice-like grip.

  “So am I. It would take a special trip to Izeh in order to replace it.” He studied her expression. Was she ready to talk about this yet? “Amalah. What was that truly about?”

  “They wanted me to publicly give back the things you have given me. A way to cut all ties with you.”

  Political maneuvering and a way to cut the rumormongers off in their tracks? It might have worked, handled correctly. Although it also had the potential of blowing up in their faces if handled wrong. Which it had.

  “Payam, will you put the mirror back in the box for me?”

  They paused long enough for the boy to juggle the burdens in his arm until the mirror was safely stowed again. Payam watched her with open worry on his face.

  She blinked rapidly, lip trembling, obviously trying not to cry.

  Swearing softly, he pulled her toward the first open courtyard he saw. “Payam, stand guard.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Startled, she stumbled a little. “Darius, what—”

  No one was there. Good. Without a word of explanation, he pulled her toward him, one arm around her waist and another rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Just cry it out. You have every right to be upset. For that matter, I’m upset.”

  Her hands slowly gripped his sides as she let her head sink onto his chest. “But you’re not crying,” she objected with a sniff.

  “We can take turns,” he offered. “You’ll comfort me next, right?”

  She gave a watery laugh and tightened her grip on him. “Of course.”

  He bent so that his head lay next to hers, sheltering her as much as he could from the outside world. When she’d collected herself again, he wanted to put a cool cloth against her cheek, maybe a salve to prevent any bruising. But right now, in this moment, she just needed to know that someone cared about her.

  Her tears soaked through his shirt, feeling damp against his skin. He tightened his arms around her. The thought that she’d probably face this again in the future left his heart cold. I can’t do this. I can’t leave her in that man’s hands.

  But Grygotis and Sebresos were both correct. He had no power to interfere in their betrothal oath either. It almost felt like he was standing alone, weaponless, with enemies on all sides. The hopelessness of the situation made him want to rage and weep and rail at the unfairness of it all.

  Maybe I need to help Grygotis have that fatal accident.

  ~~~

  Darius spent several hours with Amalah, partially to make sure she did get that bruising salve, partially because he couldn’t bear to part with her. Not like this. He found excuses instead—to take the book to a reputable repairman, to catch an early dinner while they were out in the city, to help him find a good portrait or landscape to hang in his suite. The walls were too bare otherwise.

  By the time he escorted her home, she was laughing again, her usual good spirits restored. He saw her off with a promise to get lost again, just for her benefit, which had her laughing all over again. Then, reluctantly, he went home.

  Of course, by the time that he got back, the story had spread all over the palace and Sego had probably heard a dozen different versions. In fact, his steward was almost camped at the front door, waiting for him to return.

  Payam, wisely discerning his mood, darted for the safety of his corner as quickly as he could manage. Bohme and Tolk, who were more stout of heart, chose to lean unobtrusively against the wall and listen in.

  Sego, foolhardy man that he was, charged right into the thick of it. “General, I heard the most astonishing account—”

  “It’s probably true. Or at least most of it.” He tried to keep from snapping. In truth, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to be around anyone right now, in fact.

  “You hit Grygotis, then?” Sego had a half-anticipatory wince on his face.

  “No.” His lips quirked into something like a smile at the memory. “Amalah did.”

  “She did?” all three men demanded incredulously.

  “I’m sorry you missed it,” he responded as he headed for the nearest pitcher of water. “It was truly a sight. I wonder why the rumormongers didn’t get that part right, though?”

/>   Sego waved that part aside as unimportant. “But he did strike her.”

  “Yes.” The cup in his hands trembled as his hand clenched in anger.

  Tolk reached over and calmly pried the cup out of his hand. The damaged cup, now. Darius had dented it in on all sides. “I’m surprised you didn’t kill him.”

  “It was a near thing.” Agitated, Darius ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need to think. Just…,” he waved his hands in a staying motion, “Just leave me alone and let me think, alright?”

  The three exchanged confused glances before nodding reluctantly. Relieved, he headed for his garden, seeking the coolness and peacefulness of the night air.

  He sat at the first bench he reached, the cold stone biting through his pants, and looked blindly ahead. Darius sat almost slumped in on himself, feeling like even breathing took too much effort. Half-formed thoughts jumbled in his head, not making sense even to him. How—? What—? Could he even…no, he shouldn’t even be thinking about this.

  I can’t leave this alone.

  The thought should have surprised him, and maybe it did, but he had been slowly coming to this conclusion ever since he’d learned of Amalah’s betrothal to that pig’s son. He knew full well what trouble he invited by contesting Grygotis for Amalah. His position at court had never been stable. He had many enemies that would love for him to leave an opening like this one for them to exploit. If he bulled in, Queen Tresea would likely not be able to protect him as she already had been.

  Foolhardy. Reckless. Stupid.

  He had to think. He had to think this through. He’d put his entire House at risk if he pursued her, he knew that. He also knew that they would staunchly support him through it all. No, that wasn’t what he needed to think about.

  Oaths. That’s what mattered.

  Darius raised his eyes and looked at the night sky, torn between weeping and wailing. He’d killed a man because he’d broken an oath with him. And yet here he sat, thinking of breaking another man’s oath for his own benefit. The irony was laughable but he couldn’t see the humor just then. Really, what was the difference between him and that dead king? Intent? He could honestly say that he would do this for Amalah’s sake, to protect her from a very bleak future, but he couldn’t claim that to be his sole reason. He wanted her for himself just as badly. His intentions were not wholly pure.

  He felt like he should pray about this, seek for some higher answer, but he didn’t know if he could even receive any divine guidance right now. Likely submersing himself in a large bath surrounded by a dozen open bonfires wouldn’t help. Oath-breaking lay in Darr’s domain, not Shaa’s. He knew that painfully well.

  Instinct had him turning toward the door, looking up to see who had just entered the courtyard from his suite. With only the moonlight for illumination, it took him a second to recognize who stood there. The last person he expected to come hesitated for a long second before stepping fully into the courtyard. “Sego?”

  His steward approached in a steady stride, cane making a staccato sound against the smooth tile. “In the time that I have known you, I have never once heard you ask for time to think by yourself. On the contrary, you are constantly surrounding yourself with people. You always talk through your ideas with anyone that’s at hand. To see you seclude yourself like this with such a defeated posture troubles me.” He stopped directly in front of Darius, forcing him to crane his neck upwards to meet a pair of dark, thoughtful eyes. “I can only think,” Sego continued softly, “that whatever it is troubles you so much that you don’t want to admit it, even to yourself. Am I right?”

  Darius’s eyes flitted away to the shadowy corners of the courtyard, the tile under his feet, anywhere but Sego’s eyes.

  “Ahhh. I thought as much.” His voice gentled into a mellow, inviting tone. “Darius.”

  He froze. Sego had never called him by his first name before. Swallowing, he looked up hesitantly.

  “Darius,” Sego repeated in that same tone. “We have shared bread together many times. Will you not confide in me?”

  For a moment, he lost his voice and couldn’t respond. Then he blew out a breath and rubbed at his eyes, feeling defeated. “You shame me, my friend. I should have come to you sooner.”

  “Yes, you should have,” Sego agreed calmly. He sank onto the bench beside Darius, bad leg stretched out. A slight grimace passed over his face as he settled himself.

  Darius caught the expression and frowned. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  Sego waved the concern away with a careless hand. “I have been on my feet most of the day. It’s of no consequence.”

  You mean, Darius translated with an internal sigh of resignation, that you pushed yourself too hard trying to get the truth of what happened today and hurt yourself in the process. He’d find a way to make it up to Sego, later. Subtly, less the man get offended and bite off Darius’s hand.

  “Alright, what’s wrong?” Sego prompted.

  Darius once again rubbed a hand wearily over his eyes, wondering where to even start. “I don’t…it’s just…,” he puffed out a breath and started over. “My entire life, I’ve been focused on achieving something, whether that was under my father’s tutelage or in my career as a soldier. Maybe too focused. I’ve enjoyed the attentions of a woman many times over the years but…for the first time, I’ve met someone that truly captivates me.”

  Sego abruptly sat up straighter on the bench, a half-formed smile of delight and relief on his face.

  “You’re no doubt happy to hear this,” Darius drawled.

  “You have no idea,” Sego responded, this time smiling more openly. “I thought I’d never hear those words out of your mouth. But…,” his smile faded into a worried frown. “You’re troubled by this instead of pleased.”

  Darius found himself staring intently at the tiles. Tiles were nice. They didn’t demand complicated explanations out of you. The words were like acid in his mouth as he answered shortly, “She’s betrothed.”

  “I think…I know who you are speaking of.”

  “You probably do.” He almost smiled for a moment, ruefully. “I know very well the folly of tangling with an oath,” he rasped, still unable to look up into the other man’s eyes. He didn’t need to look up to know that Sego was intently watching him. “I was raised to respect any oath made, but especially the oath that bound the lives of two people together. If I knew that she was happy with the match, I’d leave her alone.”

  “She’s not,” Sego said decisively.

  “When she looks at her betrothed, there is only fear in her eyes,” he responded steadily. “It hurts me just to see it. Sego.” He abruptly turned, words tumbling out of his mouth as his control cracked. “In all honor, I must leave her alone and not try to separate her from the man she is sworn to. But my heart screams in denial. I feel like I am abandoning her for even thinking of looking the other way.” His voice fell again into a bewildered whisper. “For the first time in my adult life, I do not know what to do.”

  “Fortunately, I think I do. But I must be sure we are speaking of the same woman. Tell me her name.”

  Something about the way he said this made Darius pause and really look at the man. The condemnation that Darius half-expected to see didn’t appear in Sego’s expression. Instead, his steward seemed to be calculating something at high speeds. Darius’s eyes narrowed and he demanded suspiciously, “What do you know that I don’t?”

  “Tell me her name,” Sego reiterated, “and then I’ll explain.”

  Heart in his throat, nerves jangling, he answered, “Raja Amalah Sebresos.”

  Sego gave a satisfied smile. “I thought as much. Still, it surprises me in a way. I knew that you enjoyed her company, but I never thought it went deeper than that. Odd, that’s not the type of woman that I thought would catch your attention.”

  Momentarily sidetracked, Darius rolled his eyes. “What did you think would attract me?”

  “Someone a lot
more sociable, to start with,” Sego answered frankly. “I’ve met Raja Amalah several times. She’s quite lovely, and intelligent, but she’s very shy. I don’t think I’ve heard her say more than a sentence or two at a time.”

  “You should have gotten her one-on-one.” Darius shook his head, not surprised at Sego’s impression of her. “Away from a crowd, with someone that she trusts, she’ll talk your ear off. But answer my question. What do you know that I don’t?”

  Sego still gave him an odd look, as if some internal calculation had just been skewed, but he answered. “There is a custom here, seldom used I might add, that a man may challenge another of equal station for anything that he owns. This can be something as large as a piece of land or something as trivial as a teaspoon. The challenger does have the right to refuse with grace, but most of the time it’s accepted.”

  Darius had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat. “Even betrothals?”

  “Challenge for a betrothal is actually the most common,” Sego admitted with a wry shrug. “It’s a perfectly honorable way to break a betrothal and change it to a different partner.”

  He’d never heard of such a thing and the very concept seemed beyond odd, but…if there was a chance….

  Sego raised a warning hand. “There’s just one problem.”

  He didn’t like where this was going. Sego’s tone alone said that he wouldn’t. “Yes…?”

  Sego’s mouth flattened in an annoyed line. “You are not quite Grygotis’s equal in station. You have the position, certainly, but you are not landed. In order to be an equal challenger, you must possess land that is granted to you by the queen.”

  He stared at the other man for a long second, waiting for the words to make sense. When they did, he felt like going to the other bench and banging his head against the stone, repeatedly. “Darr take me for a fool.”

  Confused, Sego ventured, “What?”

  Not sure whether to scream or cry, he responded hoarsely, “Queen Tresea offered me an estate when I came back from the front lines and I turned her down.”