Treason Keep

by Jennifer Fallon

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Would dare and have dared,” Hablet announced with an evil grin. “I offered the Kariens a bride, and a bride they shall have. Fortunately, Craytn has only met you once and he doesn’t speak Fardohnyan, so I can still hope your reputation hasn’t preceded you. I can blame Tristan for the fiasco at the wharf easily enough.” He chuckled softly. “Seems they thought I should have offered them my eldest daughter in the first place. It may even work out better than my original plan.”

  “You can’t do this to me!”

  “Care to wager on that?”

  “I won’t do it!”

  “Oh yes you will! You’ll marry the Karien Crown Prince and make him as happy as a pig in a wallow.”

  “I refuse!”

  “Suit yourself,” her father said, his voice dangerously calm. “In that case, I’ll be forced to deduct the cost of your little escapade from your allowance. And while I’m at it, I’ll see that your half-brother is demoted to a common foot soldier and I’ll transfer him to watching the eastern passes, where he’ll more than likely be killed fighting bandits in the Sunrise Mountains. Of course, should you agree to marry Craytn, then I could probably force myself to assign him to the regiment I’m sending north to king Jasnoff. That would get him out of my sight while I recover from this disaster…”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  Hablet sighed happily. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Daddy…” she pleaded, hoping to appeal to his softer side. Hablet was a scoundrel, but he loved his children, all thirty-seven of them. He made no distinction normally, between his legitimate daughters and the sons he had fathered on countless court’esa. “You don’t want to send me away…”

  “I can’t afford to keep you,” Hablet snapped. “If I didn’t love you more than life itself, I’d have you whipped.”

  “I’d rather be whipped than marry that pious idiot!” Realising anger would get her nowhere she smiled sweetly. “I’m sorry, daddy. I promise never to…”

  “Promise! Hah!” Hablet scoffed. “You promised me you’d marry well and you’ve rejected every suitor I’ve ever proposed.”

  “Well, what did you expect? All you’ve ever offered me were simpering boys or scabby old men!”

  “That’s beside the point!” he retorted. Then he sighed heavily, as if he couldn’t understand where he went wrong. “Haven’t I given you everything you ever wanted, Adrina? Haven’t I indulged your every whim?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “There are no buts, this time,” Hablet announced decisively. “This time you have gone too far and you can only redeem yourself by doing as I wish. And I wish you to marry the Karien prince.”

  “But he’s a child…”

  “He’s twenty-three,” Hablet pointed out, unconcerned. “And at twenty-seven, you’re an old maid. Just be grateful you still have your looks, otherwise I’d have no hope of pulling this off.”

  “Daddy…” she tried, one more time.

  “Don’t bother, Adrina. Your charms won’t work on me. You’re going to marry the Karien prince and that is final. They’re leaving in a few days so you’d better get packing.”

  If appealing to his better nature wasn’t going to work, then she might as well try appealing to the politician.

  “I can’t marry him. It’s far too dangerous.”

  “What nonsense! How could it be dangerous?”

  “I might have a son. The Kariens might expect you to name him your heir.”

  “Bah! I’ve got plenty of sons. I don’t need any whelp of yours.”

  “They’re bastards, father.”

  “Then I’ll legitimise one of them!”

  “Which one?”

  “Whichever one I choose!” he snapped. “Stop trying to defy me! You’re going to marry Cratyn and that’s final!”

  Adrina scowled at her father. “I’ll find a way out of this, I swear. I’m not going to spend my life bowing and scraping to that obnoxious little Karien worm.”

  “You do that. In the meantime, you have a trousseau to pack.”

  Adrina turned on her heel and left the room in a rage. As she stepped into the outer chamber, she passed Lecter Turon, and suddenly knew who had planted the absurd idea that she should marry the Karien prince in her father’s head. The little toad would pay for that one day, she decided.

  As for the boy prince of Karien, he’d live to regret the day he ever set foot in Fardohnya.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Her Most Serene Highness took the news well?” Lecter inquired cautiously of the king as he slipped through the door.

  Hablet glared at the eunuch. “Of course she didn’t take it well. She’s livid.”

  “In time she will adjust to the idea.”

  “She’d better,” the king grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet and walked to the window. The gardens below were a riot of colour and the faint sounds of children’s laughter drifted up from the fountain in the centre court. The sound soothed him. He wondered what it was about his children that meant he only seemed to like them before they reached puberty. Once they grew up, they were no fun at all. They learnt to manipulate and grew greedy and caused him no end of trouble. But the little ones—ah, now they were his true joy in life. He had adored Adrina when she was ten. Now he was almost frightened of her.

  “Might I suggest you place a guard on the princess? She could decide to defy you.”

  “She won’t defy me,” Hablet assured him. “It will occur to her soon enough that she’ll be the Karien Queen one day. Adrina isn’t stupid, Lecter. She’ll do what I want, but not because it pleases me. She’ll do it because it pleases her.”

  “I hope your trust in her is not misplaced, your Majesty.”

  “Trust has nothing to do with it. She’s been dying to escape the palace, and I’ve just given her a crown.”

  “A crown she could turn on you one day?” Lecter suggested tentatively.

  “Hah! Adrina? And that simpering Karien prince? I don’t think so! Adrina might have it in her to commit such treachery, but Cratyn is as spineless as a jellyfish. Did you see what they’ve agreed to? How much timber they’re willing to part with, just to get access to Solanndy Bay and the Gulf? They’re idiots!”

  “You control the only access to their holiest shrine, your Majesty, not to mention any chance they have of sea-going trade. You didn’t really leave them much choice.”

  “They want the secret of my cannon,” Hablet added. “They want that even more than they want trade or access to that miserable Isle of Slarn. What sort of god chooses a lump of rock like Slarn to make his home, anyway?”

  “The same sort of god who will demand your daughter convert to his worship. Your grandchildren will be followers of Xaphista.”

  “Adrina pointed out the same thing,” the king mused, walking back to his desk. “Odd to hear you two in agreement on any point. Still, Laryssa is due to whelp any day now. She’ll give me a son and it won’t matter how many Karien bastards Adrina has.”

  “Of course, your Majesty.” It was clear Lecter was as doubtful of the possibility as everyone else was. But surely Jelanna would not deny him again. Laryssa, the eighth woman he had taken to wife, had proved her fertility. She’d already given him two healthy bastard sons. Hablet had decided he would not marry any woman who couldn’t produce sons and it was perfectly reasonable to assume that she wouldn’t let him down this time. The thought warmed him, almost making him forget his anger at Adrina. A legitimate son. Nothing would make him happier.

  It wasn’t that Hablet didn’t love his baseborn sons. On the contrary, he adored them. But naming one his heir would cause problems. The throne needed a clear line of succession, and the law was clear, although not well known: either he sired a son himself, or the crown would go to Hythria, thanks to an almost forgotten twelve hundred-year-old agreement that Hablet had been trying to find a way around for thirty years. As he would rather fall on a rusty blade than see that happen, the only
solution, if he did not have a legitimate son of his own, was to name one of his bastards heir. But he couldn’t do that until he had removed the threat of any Hythrun heirs to his throne, a situation he planned to see to personally once he was across the border into Hythria. Then, if Laryssa failed to whelp a boy, he could legitimise one of his baseborn sons, probably Tristan, and not just because he was the eldest. Tristan was the brightest, the most personable, and the least likely to allow Adrina to control him. Although, given last night’s disastrous escapade, Hablet was beginning to wonder about that. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to send him north with Adrina…

  Hablet sighed. It was a moot point. Laryssa would give him a son. Adrina would be off his hands, out of sight and out of mind in Karien. Let her play Queen of the Realm in the north. He had their timber, their gold and their iron. In return they were getting his most troublesome daughter and a promise he had no intention of keeping.

  All in all, Hablet decided, looking down at the pile of debts Adrina had accumulated last night, it was a good bargain.

  “So how are our Karien guests this morning?” he asked, pushing the pile to one side of the gilded desk. “Have they calmed down?”

  “The prince was somewhat mollified by your generous offer.”

  “So he damned well should be!”

  “I noted,” Lecter continued, mopping his brow, “that the Kariens showed an unnatural interest in your offer to send a regiment with Adrina as her personal guard.”

  “I trust Adrina to keep them out of harm’s way. She was right about one thing. I’d never have risked sending them with Cassandra.”

  “If I may be so bold as to offer my opinion, your Majesty, one wonders if it is a good idea to send any troops north at all.”

  “What do you mean? If I don’t send her to Karien in a manner befitting her station, they’ll know something is going on.”

  “I agree, your Majesty, but I have received more than one report that the Harshini have returned. There have been sightings in Greenharbour, at the Sorcerer’s Collective, and even as far away as Testra, in Medalon.”

  “So? What has that got to do with us?”

  “The Kariens are dedicated to the destruction of the Harshini, your Majesty. Marrying your daughter to their Crown Prince, and sending her north with your soldiers might be…misconstrued.”

  “You mean I might offend the Harshini?” Hablet scratched his beard as he sank down into his chair. “If the Harshini have returned, Lecter, and I seriously doubt they have, then why are they not here? I am the King of Fardohnya! If they were back the first thing they would do is send an Emissary to my court. Instead, all you can offer me are unfounded rumours about Harshini in Hythria. I have served the gods faithfully. Why would they send their people to that degenerate in Greenharbour, when they could come here?”

  “High Prince Lernen has always supported the Sorcerer’s Collective and the temples most generously.”

  “Lernen doesn’t support anyone but himself,” Hablet scoffed. “If the Harshini had returned, I would know about it. They are dead and gone, Lecter, so we will just have to stumble on without them as we have done for the past two hundred years.”

  “Of course, your Majesty.”

  Lecter mopped his brow again, looking rather uncomfortable. On days like this he annoyed Hablet. His grovelling manner was intolerable at times, but he had a sharp political mind and no scruples at all, that Hablet could discern. It made him an excellent chamberlain, if a tiresome one.

  “What else, Lecter? I can tell there’s something bothering you.”

  “It’s a small matter, your Majesty. One that hardly needs your attention.”

  “Out with it, Lecter! I don’t have time for your games this morning. Cratyn will be here at any moment.”

  “There have been other rumours, Sire, particularly in Medalon. About the demon child.”

  “Lorandranek’s legendary half-human child? Those rumours have been around ever since the Harshini disappeared. Surely you don’t believe them?”

  “I don’t believe anything, your Majesty, until I have proof. However, I feel they might be worthy of investigation. I could send…”

  “No,” Hablet declared bluntly. “I’ll not have you wasting time and money chasing fairytales. The Harshini are extinct and there is no fabled demon child. I would much rather you spent your time fruitfully. Like finding out why the High Prince of Hythria sent his nephew to Medalon to fight with the Defenders.”

  “My sources tell me Lernen has little or no control over his nephew. I doubt he sent him anywhere.”

  “Then find out why young Wolfblade went north. I want a free path into Hythria, Lecter. I don’t want a battalion of Defenders on my back, and Wolfblade needs to die.”

  “The Kariens will keep the Defenders off your back, Sire, and I am sure they can be prevailed upon to dispose of the Hythrun prince. Why else would we support their coming war with Medalon?”

  “I hope you’re right, Lecter, because I’ll be very put out if this doesn’t work.”

  Before Lecter could offer another obsequious reply, the doors opened and the Karien prince strode in, accompanied by his retinue. Hablet greeted them expansively and ordered the guards to bring chairs for the new arrivals.

  Lecter bowed low, mopped his brow and backed out of the room, leaving the king to his guests.

  CHAPTER 4

  Everyone’s eyes were on Adrina as she strode down the long hall. As if to mock her, at the end of the hall, the princeling in question was heading toward her, with his gaggle of priests in tow.

  Except for the ball held in his honour the day of his arrival a week ago, Adrina had not seen the young prince, and counted herself lucky. He had spent the entire ball blushing an interesting shade of pink every time he caught sight of a Fardohnyan woman’s bare midriff. As every one of the two hundred or so women present had been dressed in a similar fashion, he was damned near apoplectic by the end of the evening. For a fleeting moment, she debated doing something truly outrageous, right here in the Hall, which would ensure the Kariens would reject her as a potential bride. But she had caught the expectant look on Lecter Turon’s smug, fat face as he slipped through the door to attend the king, and thought better of it. He would keep.

  She stopped and waited as the young prince approached. Tall, serious and boring did not particularly appeal to Adrina, but he was civilised enough, she supposed. He was a little taller than her, with unremarkable brown hair, and eyes the colour of dried mud. At least he knew how to chew with his mouth closed.

  “Prince Cretin,” she said, offering him her hand. The older man on Cratyn’s right looked a little put out that she had greeted his prince as an equal, but Cratyn didn’t appear to notice. He was too busy staring at the pearl in her navel. “My father has just informed me that we are to be married.”

  Cratyn dropped her hand, jerked his head up and met her eye. He looked at her black eye curiously for a moment, but made no comment about it. Instead, he nodded—rather miserably, she noted with interest.

  “Karien welcomes Fardohnya’s favourite daughter, your Serene Highness,” he said in his clipped Karien. “We look forward to a new era of prosperity and friendship between our two great nations.”

  Someone sniggered in the background at the idea. Adrina looked at Cratyn curiously, wondering if he was really as naive as he sounded.

  “I look forward to serving Fardohnya and Karien, your Highness,” she replied graciously, in heavily accented Karien. Two could play this game, and Adrina could mouth meaningless platitudes in any number of languages, when the mood took her. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have arrangements to make for my journey.”

  Cratyn stepped aside for her, forcing the rest of his party to do the same.

  Adrina continued regally on through the hall. Until she came up with a way to escape her father’s decree, she had no choice but to play along with it.

  At least the meeting with the young Karien prince had not gone too badly.
She had made it clear to the Kariens that she held a rank equal to their prince, and Cratyn had been rather overawed by her, she decided with satisfaction. But he wasn’t very happy with the idea of an arranged marriage. That much was obvious. It could simply be his distaste for a foreign bride—or perhaps he was smarter than he looked, and had some idea of how treacherous and unreliable her father was. She was almost back to her rooms, and still trying to puzzle it out, when a rather shamefaced Tristan caught up with her.

  “The last I heard, you were running away like a cur with its tail between its legs,” she snapped as he fell into step beside her.

  Tristan was younger than Adrina by two days, and until an hour ago, she had considered him her best friend. Tristan’s mother was a Hythrun court’esa, one of Hablet’s favourites, who still lived in the palace harem, even though she no longer took the King’s fancy. She had been a beautiful woman in her youth and Tristan had inherited most of her charm, as well as her fair hair and golden eyes. He turned all of that charm on his half-sister now, to absolutely no effect.

  “Would I desert you in your hour of need?”

  “I didn’t happen to notice you helping me when I needed you, just now.”

  “I was busy,” he shrugged, with an apologetic smile.

  “Do you know what he’s done?” There was no need to elaborate on who he was.

  “Married you off to the Karien prince and ordered me north with the regiment?”

  She turned on him furiously. “You knew!”

  “My orders were waiting for me at the South Gate. The ink wasn’t even dry. You really pushed him too far this time, Adrina.”

  “You were there, too! I only tried docking the damned boat because you dared me…”

  “It’s a ship, not a boat,” he corrected. “Anyway, this might be fun.”

  “Fun? I have to marry that snivelling, pious little cretin.”

  “And one day that snivelling, pious little cretin will be the Karien king. That’s more than you’ll ever get here, Adrina. You might be the eldest legitimate child, but Hablet will turn atheist before he lets a woman inherit the Fardohnyan crown. You’ve always known he’d sell you to the highest bidder. At least, this way, you get to be a queen.”