Mistress of Winter

by Giles Carwyn

  Turning on her heel, she stalked away from the fuming crowd. Mikal followed, careful to avoid all of the blades still pointed at his face. They reached the gangplank and started across.

  Mikal cleared his throat as they reached the next ship.

  “Um, so that was your plan?” he asked.

  “I am allowing verse and steel to illuminate the truth,” Lawdon said tersely, pushing through a pack of curious onlookers.

  “Ah, good. Tradition is a fine thing, I always say.” He paused, then added, “And exactly whose steel is going to illuminate this truth?”

  “I’m sure I’ll find someone with a thunderous voice and steady hand willing to dance for justice.”

  “It will take a lot more than that to beat Natshea.”

  “Bury Natshea. I don’t care about her.”

  “That’s because you won’t be facing her.”

  “I didn’t go there to arrange a duel,” she snapped. “One more useless duel won’t solve anything.” She looked around, but nobody else was within earshot. “I went there to schedule an assassination. The duel is merely a distraction.”

  “Oh…” he murmured, pondering. “I see. How long would this distraction have to last?”

  “As long as possible.”

  “Ah-ha. Now that’s a bit of a gray area isn’t it.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Wise men avoid gray areas.”

  “Then I had better find myself a colossal fool, hadn’t I?” She kept right on walking, and he had to hurry to keep up with her.

  CHAPTER 25

  So, what does one wear to be tortured by a power-hungry madman…?” Shara asked herself aloud in her little room on the brothel ship. She sifted through her new wardrobe, trying to think her statement was funny, but it didn’t calm the nervousness that fluttered in her chest.

  She was already late. The boat Jesheks had sent for her was waiting, but she needed to get dressed first. All of the clothes she had purchased in Faradan were on Laughing Breeze when it sailed with Reignholtz’s children. She was left with nothing but the sapphire earrings she wore. Earlier in the day, she sold the jewels, went to the first dressmaker’s barge she could find, and bought every dress they had in her size. She’d spent so much on clothes that she couldn’t afford to pay for her room, and she still couldn’t find a single thing she wanted to wear.

  She continued to paw through her clothes, not really seeing any of them. The short green skirt? No. That was for impressing young men like Mikal. It would seem frivolous to the albino.

  What the hell are you doing, she thought. Grab anything, or go naked. She snatched the short green skirt and an image of Victeris flashed through her mind. Those nights on Bloody Row, crawling incessantly across the wooden floor, her shredded knees…

  “When was the last time you were completely helpless?”

  She couldn’t put herself in that position again. Wouldn’t.

  “I see pain trapped behind your eyes, Shara-lani. I can take you to it, and through it, and you will never miss it again.”

  His words were a devilish mixture of wisdom and insanity, just like Victeris’s had been. But what had she been before she thrust her hand into that bonfire in Faradan? Wasn’t that crazy, too? Weren’t all mages insane in one way or another?

  She saw Victeris crushed against the rose marble of the Zelani courtyard, his brother and Gorlym rushing to his side.

  Shara turned, put the green skirt away, and snatched the most sensible dress she’d bought, an ankle-length gown of blue silk with a scooped neckline crisscrossed by a network of laces.

  Pulling free the knot at the back of the short skirt she wore, she slipped it over her hips and let it slide to the ground. Her fingers were at work on the buttons of her blouse when she sensed someone beyond her door.

  She sent her attention through the thick wood to touch the man standing there. Mikal’s life light was a tangled ball of chaotic emotions. Lawdon wasn’t with him, but news of her challenge had spread across the Floating Palace. She would be safe until the duel. It would look bad if she died before it.

  Shara drew a deep breath, quickly took off her blouse, and slipped the dress over her head. This was a conversation she had better be clothed for.

  She crossed to the door and opened it. His neck and arms were tense, but he tried to keep the angst off his face. His jaw muscles worked as he stood there.

  “Were you going to wait out there all night?” she asked.

  “I’ve been waiting outside your door for a long time now. Another night wouldn’t have mattered.”

  Shara sighed, turned to her mirror, and began tugging at the laces of her bodice, closing it tight. She didn’t have time for this. Jesheks’s men were waiting.

  “You going out again?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when can we expect you back?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I see. How reassuring.”

  “Mikal…”

  “What? I’d hate to ruin your sparkling social life, but it seems to me that we need you here right now. In case you haven’t heard, there is a duel tomorrow, and I’d like to fare a bit better than your last set of friends.”

  Shara combed her dark hair to the side, glancing briefly in the mirror, and fixed it with a wooden comb. She looked back at Mikal. “I know about the duel, and I’m doing what I can.”

  “What exactly is that?”

  When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Because it looks to me like you’re leaving me behind to be Lawdon’s idiot champion and personal watchdog while you’ve moved on to better things.”

  She sighed, wishing this could have taken place some other time.

  “Ah, the frost queen has thawed enough to give me a sigh. I’m so honored.”

  She gave him a warning look.

  “Don’t I have a right to know where you’re going?” He paused, waiting for her to answer.

  Shara felt Mikal’s anger like a coiled serpent. “I arranged a meeting with Jesheks,” she said.

  He spun around, looked like he was going to punch the wall. “I knew it! You’ve traded me for that bloated eunuch?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He spun back around. “I’m sorry, is the poet not speaking plainly enough? I saw the way you looked at that fat man. I watched you both times. You were smiling this secret little smile that you’ve never given me and never will.”

  “It’s nothing like that—”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he hissed. “Believe me, I’ve been the liar often enough.”

  “You don’t see why I have to do this,” she said quietly.

  “No, I don’t. But I’ll tell you what I do see. That disgusting albino has put you under some kind of spell.”

  She shook her head as he paced across the room. She thought about easing his pain, turning his anger to joy with a blissful kiss. It would only take a second, and he would be out of her hair. “It isn’t that simple, Mikal.”

  “That’s just what I told myself again and again after you took me.”

  “I don’t have you under a spell.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not like you mean,” she said. “No.”

  “Well that’s what it feels like!” he shouted, smacking his fist against his chest.

  She faced him, placid. “What do you want, Mikal?” she asked in an even tone. “What do you need from me?”

  He grabbed her by the arm, hard. “I need your help tomorrow!” he said, shaking her. Her comb slipped, letting loose a cascade of hair. “I need you here, Shara. I love you! I love you so badly it’s tearing me apart!”

  She turned away from him, caught her reflection in the mirror. Calm posture, serene eyes, perhaps even a coquettish stance. Her dark eyes were alluring, whispering of promise even as she averted her gaze. Elegant, compelling, a woman of perfect control. A prize to make men salivate and fall to their knees. All of the things she had taught herself to be. She swallowed and looked
away.

  His hand was still on her arm, but softer now. “Don’t go.” His other hand closed on her shoulder, and he looked at her in the mirror. She took a deep breath. His heart was in his eyes.

  “Let me inside,” he said. “Let me past that door you’re hiding behind.”

  She replaced the comb in her hair. “Believe me, Mikal, you don’t want what’s behind my door.”

  “Yes, I do,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck.

  She turned away from him and started for the door. “I’m very late,” she said. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can. We’ll talk about this later.”

  “No!” He grabbed her again, spun her around, and threw her against the wall. She let out a little breath as her back hit the wood. Mikal pressed his body against hers, pinning her arms over her head. His mouth nuzzled her neck. “Are you going to let me in,” he whispered. “Or do I need to break down your door?”

  Shara ripped her hands from his grasp and slapped him across the face.

  “How dare you!”

  He backed up, startled, and she slapped him with her other hand.

  “How dare you!”

  “What do you expect?” he shouted, his face twisted in anguish. “You made me this way! You did this to me! You’ve changed me from an abject coward into a glorious slave. Forgive me for playing the part!”

  Her magic hovered around her like a haze, but she kept it at bay. “You idiot!” she said. “I did nothing to you. All I did was unlock those stupid chains you bound yourself with.”

  “I didn’t ask you to—”

  “Shut up!” she said. “You’re ten times the man you think you are! All I did was fuck you hard enough for you to believe it!”

  “It may have just been a fuck for you, but not for me!” he said, his voice breaking. “Can’t you see that I love you?”

  “You love what I’ve given you. Nothing more. You found your confidence with me. But it was your confidence. I put nothing there that didn’t already exist.”

  “Shara—” His hand trembled, rising to touch her, but he didn’t.

  “You don’t love me, Mikal. You lust for me. I’m that glorious rush we all get from someone who dazzles us. I care for you, Mikal, but above all else, I am a Zelani. Make no mistake about it. I do not fall in love…” She choked on the last word, turned away, and grabbed the door handle. “If you want love, look to Lawdon. She is the one who loves you.”

  “Shara, please…” he whispered.

  She shook her head, flinging open the door. “I have to go. You have your duel to fight,” she said. “And I have mine.”

  She slammed the door behind her.

  The black-clad men rowed Shara quietly across the water. Neither of them spoke. They were Vinghelt’s men, of course, but she didn’t care about that. Mikal’s intrusion was perfectly ill-timed. Shara needed to focus tonight. She needed her emotions smooth and carefree.

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Not now. Perhaps it would all come spilling out tonight, but not here. Not in front of Vinghelt’s servants.

  Keeping her chin high, she breathed in the summer air as they rounded yet another outcropping of the moss-covered shores surrounding the vineyards east of Vingheld. Moonlight danced on the waves, and Shara evened her breathing.

  Jesheks’s personal ship hove into view, tucked into a little cove far out of sight of the Floating Palace. She suddenly realized she wasn’t the only nervous one on the boat. The servants rowed hard, sweat on their brows, and she could feel their unease and disgust as they approached the black ship.

  They slid up alongside and bumped the hull next to a dangling rope ladder. Neither man offered to go up first. They merely sat there.

  One of them said, “The physician is the only one aboard. He’s expecting you in the aft stateroom.”

  Shara watched his eyes flick to the rail overhead, then back to her. Finally, he lowered his gaze.

  They don’t think I’ll be coming back, she thought, and she wondered how many people these two had rowed out here to this deserted cove for the albino’s pleasure.

  A shiver crept up her spine. She stood up.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” she said. Neither one of them looked at her, so she turned, hooked her foot into the first sagging rung, and climbed the ladder. She hadn’t even made it halfway up before they began rowing away as if ghosts were chasing them.

  She moved quietly aft, her bare feet making no sound on the polished deck. The sails were furled, and the ship creaked in the wind as it slowly rocked with the waves.

  Shara entered the door to the aft stateroom and found a warm and inviting cabin lit by a roaring fire. She scanned the room for signs of something unpleasant. Blades. Whips. Dried blood. There was nothing. It was as if she’d walked into Baelandra’s living room.

  Jesheks sat on the far side of the room in a wide wooden chair lined with thick cushions. The soft firelight playing across his pale, fleshy features.

  “A fireplace aboard a ship? You are either very daring or very foolish,” Shara said. She touched the edge of the door with her fingertips, hesitated. With a deep breath, she pushed it shut. The latch clicked.

  “Is there a difference?” he asked. With a smile, he indicated an identical chair to his right. “Come. Sit with me. Have some wine.”

  She smiled slightly, crossed the room, feeling every movement in her legs, in her hands as they passed through the air. She wouldn’t set Jesheks off his balance by swinging her hips, but it made her feel grounded. Pausing at the chair, she looked at the wine. “There aren’t any little lights floating around in it, are there?”

  He raised a pale eyebrow. “Siren’s Blood? Alas no. Have you ever tasted the madmen’s spirit brew?”

  Shara descended into the soft and luxuriant chair, but she did not sit back. Crossing her legs, she said, “I had the opportunity once, but it was taken from me.”

  “Then you were closer than I have ever been,” Jesheks said. “Tasting the Islander’s ani wine is still on my list of things to do.”

  “Then I suggest that you do not raise a cup of it with Arefaine around,” she said, looking past his expression to the fire, noticing something she had not before. Seven metal rods of different widths rested at the edge of the blaze, their tips buried in the coals. She swallowed, smoothing her breath to an even rhythm. She turned her gaze back on Jesheks.

  “What else is on your list?” she asked.

  “You.”

  Shara touched him gently with her magic, knowing he must be doing the same to her. He appeared calm, but inside, anticipation swirled with fear and excitement.

  “I don’t know who is more frightened. You or me,” he said.

  Shara smiled. He was straightforward, she would give him that. There was something refreshing about his brutal honesty. She expected more deception from someone like this, but Shara suddenly realized that she was the deceiver in this room, trying to seem unafraid when her heart fluttered in her chest.

  “Why are you frightened?” she asked.

  “You have the ability to change me, to transform me into something unknown, unrecognizable. And I have the power to do the same to you. It is a dangerous intimacy we propose. That is why it is so compelling.”

  She nodded. “Compelling is the perfect word. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been thrusting my hand into the fire to see how it feels.”

  “And how does it feel?” he asked.

  “Like freedom.”

  Jesheks’s red eyes flickered. “Well then, shall we set each other free?”

  Shara stood up, smoothed her dress. She reached out, and Jesheks put a pale, puffy hand in hers. She helped him rise to his feet.

  “Yes,” she said. “Let us begin.”

  His thick fingers touched her temple, brushed a lock of windblown hair behind her ear. She shivered, let the sensation roll through her, and added it to her power.

  “Have you decided which of us will go first?”

  Fear blossomed in
her chest, spreading cold tendrils through her body. She kept it, let it flow, turned it into energy. But it ached to be released. She wanted this, despite it all, she longed to see what Jesheks offered. She closed her eyes, feeling the dread seep through her limbs to her extremities, leaking out through her fingers and toes.

  She opened her eyes.

  “I will go first,” she said.

  He nodded, and Shara realized that he’d known her answer already.

  “You are very brave, Shara-lani,” he said softly. She felt anticipation ripple through his body.

  His hand pressed lightly against her back to guide her forward, but she hesitated. He waited, fingers soft and warm through the sheer protection of her dress.

  She took the first small step toward the fire, then another.

  CHAPTER 26

  You remember the plan?” Lawdon asked as she watched Mikal fumble with his sword belt, his bleary eyes struggling to focus in the dim light.

  “Plan? What plan?” he asked, acting surprised. He tried to flash a dashing smile, but he just looked tired. Worn thin.

  Apparently Mikal and Shara had some kind of falling-out, and he’d spent the last night in a drunken rage. If Mikal’s heart wasn’t in the duel, Natshea would make short work of him. And if Mikal’s pounding head or fickle spine weren’t in the duel either, the contest would be even shorter.

  The man had gotten up before her, she had to give him that. Or perhaps he hadn’t gone to bed at all last night. Regardless, he returned to their rented cabin shaved, starched, and impeccably dressed for his duel. But the bright colors did nothing to hide the bags under his eyes, and the fine tailoring couldn’t cover the slouch in his shoulders.

  He finally conquered his buckle and sketched a flamboyant bow. “Shall we waltz to our doom?”

  Lawdon nodded reluctantly. She wore new clothes as well, mostly because she needed blousy sleeves to hide her daggers. She’d also spent half the night sewing fresh karryl leaves into the lining of her new vest and boots. There was a good chance she would be swimming today, and she wanted to be prepared.

  Following Mikal out of the room and onto the deck, she went over the plan one more time in her head. It was a simple plan. She’d do to Vinghelt exactly what he did to Reignholtz. As soon as the duel started, Lawdon would lose herself in the crowd and discreetly work her way as close to the false prince as possible. She’d never be noticed in the blood-hungry throng.