by John Marco
What? Unbelievable? Akeela had acted as if it were impossible, but inside something needled him. His little voice was speaking again. Cassandra and Lukien had been remarkably civil to each other since coming to Koth. More than civil, really. Akeela hated to admit it, but part of him believed Trager’s tale.
“Cassandra . . . why?”
If there was an answer, Akeela didn’t know it. He felt remarkably alone.
“I’ll not hide from the truth,” he whispered. “Cassandra, I’ll find out if you’ve been unfaithful. And Lukien, if you’ve betrayed me . . .”
A rage like he’d never felt before rose up within him, making his heart pound and his temples quiver. He would not be made a fool of by Lukien or Cassandra or anyone, no matter how much he loved them. Akeela knew he had to discover the truth.
Somehow.
13
Just as Cassandra had predicted, she did not stop seeing Lukien. He was everywhere in Lionkeep, and on everybody’s lips, and because he was her champion he was impossible to ignore, accompanying her to every royal function, constantly by her side.
It was much the same with Akeela too, for Lukien had sway with the nobles of Koth and was useful to Akeela, who had need for influence in the House of Dukes now that Norvor was threatening. Cassandra attributed Akeela’s recent mood changes to the trouble with King Mor, because her husband had been distant and quiet since his return, and had never once asked her back to his bed. Truly, that was a relief for Cassandra, who now thought constantly of Lukien and his fiery touch, and who hated to compare Akeela’s sober lovemaking to that of her bronze champion. She stole every moment possible that she could with Lukien, though they were seldom alone, and when no one was looking she let him kiss her or whisper poetry in her ear, rhymes so bad that she had to fight against giggles. Since her first time with the Bronze Knight, Cassandra had discovered the remarkable lover within him, generous and patient, and skilled in bringing the woman out of her young, inexperienced body. What had started as a curious infatuation was now an inferno of love, and though she knew she risked everything by being with him, Cassandra could not stop herself. Or would not stop herself. She still didn’t know which was the truth.
But there was always the guilt. No matter how much love or pleasure she felt, remorse was her ever-present companion, and she lived in constant fear of being discovered. She did not fear for herself, though; she knew the weight of her crimes and accepted it. And she did not fear for Lukien, either, confident he could weather any disgrace. Rather she feared for Akeela, and what the discovery of her indiscretion would do to his fragile confidence. The world saw Akeela as good and kind, but they did not see the softness that made him so generous, and Cassandra knew how easily he could be broken.
One night not long after Akeela’s return, Cassandra told herself she’d had enough. She had traveled to Merloja on a goodwill tour of her own, a Liirian city not far from Koth. There was a duke there named Jaran who was very influential with some in the chancelleries. Jaran had been an old friend of Akeela’s father and as such was sympathetic to the new king’s predicament with Norvor. Jaran also respected Lukien. So Cassandra tried to do Akeela some good and had gone to Merloja willingly. With her went Lukien and a host of Royal Chargers, as well as the ever-present Jancis. At Jaran’s castle they had gotten a warm welcome and the duke’s assurances that he would side with Akeela, no matter what the young king’s choice was. But Jaran had warned Cassandra that his voice had little weight with Baron Glass, and that in the end Akeela would have no choice—war with Norvor seemed imminent. It was, Jaran said, just a matter of time.
Cassandra stayed in Duke Jaran’s castle for three days. She was grateful for his hospitality, and dreaded returning to Koth to tell her husband of Jaran’s dire prediction. Akeela was hardly a political strong man, and she doubted his ability to prosecute a war. Worse, she felt more guilty than ever over her infidelity, for she knew the weight of things was crushing Akeela, and he needed her loyalty more than ever.
Yet on the road back she found herself alone with Lukien, in his arms once again. A hard rain had come from nowhere, forcing them off the road and into a small village. Though the villagers were overjoyed to see their queen, they had little to offer but basic food and shelter, and put Cassandra and her entourage up where they could, splitting up the force between a dozen different households. Cassandra found herself that night in the grandest house in the village, situated on a hill overlooking farmland. The home was owned by a wealthy merchant and landowner whose children had moved out years earlier and who eagerly offered his extra chambers to the queen and her handmaid. Unable to leave Cassandra alone, Lukien had chosen to sleep on the floor outside Cassandra’s room. When the night was thick and the old merchant lost to sleep, he had come to her. With only a disgruntled look from Jancis he slipped into Cassandra’s chamber and found her there, waiting for him. She had been unable to keep her brief promise to herself, for the longing to be with him overwhelmed her. As lightning flashed outside their window, they came together, clasps of thunder drowning the sounds of their lovemaking.
And when it was over and they both lay in the other’s arms, exhausted, Cassandra asked Lukien about war with Norvor. The question startled the knight, who laughed.
“Cassandra, am I such a poor lover that you think of politics when we’re together?”
“No,” she said with a smile. The thunder over the village made the shutters rattle, but she felt remarkably safe in Lukien’s arms. “I can’t help thinking about what Duke Jaran said, though. And I don’t know what Akeela’s planning, either. He won’t talk to me about it.”
Hearing the king’s name made Lukien shift. “He’s got a great deal to consider, Cassandra. There are a lot of people watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake.”
“But if war comes you will be there for him, won’t you?” asked Cassandra. “If he can’t avoid it, will you protect him?”
“I should be offended by that question but I’m not,” said Lukien with a yawn. “You know I’d never let anything happen to him.”
For a moment Cassandra didn’t answer. Lukien stopped yawning and stared.
“Cassandra? You do know that, don’t you?”
It was hard for Cassandra to nod. “Yes. I know that you’ll protect him.”
“I’ve always protected him,” Lukien reminded her. “That’s been my duty from the time King Balak took me in. I won’t abandon that duty, not even now. And for you to think so hurts me.”
“No,” said Cassandra, rushing out a hand to stroke his face. “I know you love him. I know you’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
It was a horrible thing to say as they lay together naked. They had already harmed Akeela more than any Norvan sword could. Lukien was quiet for a long moment, turning away from Cassandra to stare out the dark window. When at last he spoke his voice was shallow and hard to hear over the thunder.
“I have spent my life looking after Akeela,” he said. “And he adores me for it. I know how he admires me, I can see it in him. Sometimes it’s hard to bear. Sometimes . . .”
His words trailed off. Then he put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Let me sleep now, just for a little while.”
Cassandra stared at Lukien as he drifted off to sleep. She would have to wake him soon, she knew, but she loved looking at him in the darkness, the way the lightning flashed off his blond hair. In that moment she knew there would never be peace for her. She could make a hundred pledges to herself, promise never to be with him again, but her will would always buckle in the end. Such was the terrible power of this love.
Less than a week after Cassandra had returned home, word reached Akeela of Norvor’s troop movements. At first there were merely rumors—fearful, insubstantial whisperings from the border. Traders from southern caravans told of unusual activity along the River Kryss and near Hanging Man, the formidable tower of rock Norvor had long ago turned into a fortress. It was said that King Mor had statio
ned an unusual number of soldiers on the borders with Liiria and Reec, and that earthworks were being built which could be seen on the Liirian side of the river. Like all rumors, the first ones started slowly, but within a week all of Liiria was buzzing with the news. By the end of another week, Akeela’s own scouts confirmed the worst of them. Along with the earthworks, barracks and other structures for the support of many troops were being erected. King Mor’s own banner, an ugly flag featuring a two-headed hawk, was flying nearer the borders of Liiria and Reec than ever before. But worst by far was the cessation of shipping. Liirian and Reecian trading ships were being refused passage down the river, which was now blockaded by Norvan barges. Two ships, both Reecian, had already been boarded. Their cargo seized and their ships scuttled, the crews of the vessels had been sent back to Reec with one dismal message—the Kryss belonged to Norvor.
With the threat of war hanging over Liiria, the city of Koth was transformed. The good mood that had endured since the treaty with Reec evaporated, leaving the capital under a pall. Chancellery Square became the center of debates, and the House of Dukes rang with calls for action. Led by Baron Thorin Glass, the chancellors were nearly unanimous in their desire for war, and each day saw new declarations sent to Lionkeep for Akeela to sign, directing the Chancellery of War to make battle plans. Even King Karis, Cassandra’s father, had hurried emissaries to Koth, begging Akeela for action. Karis wanted reassurances. He wanted to know what the young King of Liiria would do if Norvor crossed into Reec. But Akeela could not answer him. He simply didn’t have answers.
The last two weeks had passed in a haze for Akeela. Still reeling from Trager’s stunning accusations, he had shut himself away in his study, depressed and drinking more than he should, rarely eating or seeing anyone. Unable to face his wife, he had feigned business as the reason for avoiding their bed. And Cassandra had not seemed to mind, because she herself was ill these days, losing weight and color to some ailment of the stomach she refused to discuss. Akeela still loved Cassandra and he added her ill-health to the pile of worries crushing him. He had no proof of her infidelity, but he suspected Trager had told the truth. Cassandra adored Lukien. If he hadn’t been so blind with love for both of them, he would have seen it sooner. Surprisingly, he held Cassandra little umbrage. Lukien was as beautiful as she was herself. No woman could resist him— or ever had—and the power of his allure had simply overwhelmed her, the way it had countless girls in Lionkeep over the years.
And Lukien? Akeela still didn’t know how he felt about his old companion. Brothers always fought, and they were no exception. It had been a hard relationship sometimes, but Akeela had always felt Lukien’s love. It assured him. When he was around Lukien he felt taller than his normal stature. He needed Lukien, and he always had. And because Lukien fed that need willingly, Akeela had always loved the Bronze Knight, no matter how differently they viewed the world.
Yet now there was something like hatred blooming inside Akeela, something ugly. He felt betrayed, as though an unforgivable wrong had been done him. The only thing saving his feelings for Lukien was a lack of surety. Despite the feelings in his gut, Akeela had only Trager’s word as proof.
“Not enough,” Akeela muttered. He was alone, as he always was these days, finally leaving the confines of Lionkeep for the open spaces of his unbuilt library. It was a gray day, matching his mood. Raindrops fell periodically from the sky, dampening his hair and face. Since news had come of Norvor’s actions, work on his Cathedral of Knowledge had slowed to a crawl, and the rain had conspired to stop the rest. There were no workers on site today, not even Figgis, who was overseeing much of the library’s construction. In the distance, Koth looked like a hobbled giant. She needed a king, Akeela knew, someone to lead her boldly into the future, someone who could take on Mor and his arrogance and silence the protests from the chancellor. She needed a decision maker, the king that Akeela had been once, however briefly. Where was that young man now, he wondered?
“Gone?” Akeela asked himself. Beneath his feet stone dust crackled as he walked aimlessly through the foundations of his dream.
No, not gone, he decided. Just confused and betrayed. But he would be back. And when he returned he would show the world he was not to be trifled with, that he could be as much a hero as Lukien or Baron Glass had ever been.
“Akeela the Good,” said Akeela. The sobriquet made him smile. He was still good. The people still loved him. Everything he did was for them and they knew it, and that’s why they weren’t joining in Glass’ violent chorus. They were waiting for their king to speak.
Akeela went to the center of the foundation, where a particularly large rock stood out from the rest. Akeela had seen Figgis sitting on the rock countless times as he consulted his plans and directed the workmen. Akeela ran his hand over the smooth stone, pushing off little puddles of water before sitting down. He looked around, studying Koth, wondering what to do. He didn’t want war. More than anything, his was to be a reign of peace. But he seethed at King Mor’s actions, and hated the old ruler for ruining his peace. Mor was a very arrogant man. Akeela’s own father had complained about him more than once. Now he was testing the son.
“Yes,” said Akeela, agreeing with his own theory. “He’s testing me.” He scowled. “They all are.”
King Mor, Baron Glass, Chancellor Hogon; they were all part of the same conspiracy, eager to tear down what little he had built. They wanted power for themselves and nothing more, but Akeela would not let them succeed. He glanced around the construction site, knowing in his heart that his library would be built.
Somehow.
He heard a sound at his back. Turning, he noticed a lone horseman riding through the drizzle. The Bronze Knight wore a golden cape and a concerned expression. His eyes narrowed, focusing on Akeela as he brought his horse to a stop just outside the foundation’s stone border.
“May I come ahead?” he asked.
Akeela thought for a moment. He wanted to be alone.
“Yes, if you must.”
Lukien dropped down from his horse. He drew his cape about his shoulders. Looking into the sky, he said, “It’s a bad day for daydreaming out here, Akeela. Why don’t you come back to Lionkeep with me? We’ll have something hot to drink.”
“Not yet.”
From the corner of his eye Akeela saw Lukien frown. “You’re brooding,” said the knight. “What’s preoccupying you so?”
“I have things on my mind,” said Akeela. Finally he looked at Lukien. “Why did you come? To check up on me?”
“Yes, and to give you some news. The House of Dukes has sent another declaration to Lionkeep, Akeela. Baron Glass has brought it himself. He’s waiting for you back at the castle.”
Akeela’s already sour mood curdled. It was the fourth declaration of war the House of Dukes had authored, and each one had the signatures of more Liirian lords than the one before. Eventually, Akeela knew, he would not be able to ignore them.
“Baron Glass is insisting on an answer,” Lukien went on. “I think you should at least see him.”
“I have nothing to say to him yet. That’s why I’m here, thinking.”
Lukien came closer, sitting down on the rock next to Akeela. He had a gentle smile on his face. “What will you do? Sit here in the rain all day?”
“If it will help, yes.”
“You’re being very cross. Please don’t take your anger with Glass out on me. I have nothing to do with it.”
Akeela bit his lip. The innocence on Lukien’s face told him Trager might actually have lied.
“I have a lot to deal with right now, that’s all,” he offered. “This business with Norvor is plaguing me. I think we have no choice but to mobilize troops.”
Lukien nodded. “Agreed. Then you can talk to Mor about it, maybe get things settled. Once he sees that you’re serious, he’ll be in the mood to bargain.”
“Bargain? Oh, no. That’s not what I have in mind at all.”
The knight blinked. “
No?”
“Mor has insulted me, Lukien. He’s threatening my peace with Reec. I won’t let him ruin all my work, or make a fool of me.”
“So what will you do?” asked Lukien.
Akeela looked away. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to tell Lukien his plans. He let his eyes linger on the library site, and a thin smile came to his face.
“It will be very grand when it’s done,” he said. “You’ll see, Lukien. So will Cassandra and Baron Glass and everyone else. This library will be something special.”
Lukien studied their bleak surroundings. “It doesn’t look like much now, though, does it?”
“Not yet, maybe. But soon.”
“Akeela, I’ve been thinking . . .” Lukien leaned back on the rock. “Maybe Glass is right about the library. Maybe you should stop pouring money into it.”
Akeela raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“Until this business with Norvor is over, I mean.”
“No, Lukien,” snapped Akeela, getting to his feet. “Glass is not right. Not about the library, not about anything.”
Lukien put up his hands. “I’m just making a suggestion, that’s all.”
“This library is going to be built. Damn Norvor, and damn Baron Glass.” Akeela pointed a finger in Lukien’s face. “And damn you, too.”
“What?” Lukien leapt to his feet, swatting Akeela’s finger away. “I’m not one of your little serving wenches, Akeela. Don’t you ever say that to me again. I’m on your side, remember.”
Akeela scoffed. “Are you?”
The knight’s expression tightened. “Yes. Why don’t you know that any more? Why don’t you trust me?”
