Well of Tears (Empath Book 3)

by Dawn Peers

  Neyv’s ability wasn’t nearly as wide-ranged and useful as an empath, though it had its purpose and its place. It was enough to get Sammah the throne, but he didn’t think it was enough to keep hold of it. Quinn would have been enough; like Nerren, she could have triggered outright war—between all of the lords, not just the meagre one-sided battle they had on their hands now. Quinn could have made wagon boys into warriors. Neyv could help him to keep his allies, but she couldn’t stretch herself to make men fight a battle they had no vested interest in.

  * * *

  There were two royal guards standing watch outside Vance’s rooms. Sammah was controlling the castle, and he could see them shake as he got close. He was maintaining the status quo for the show of things. The royal guard still protected the king, but they now found themselves answering to the orders of Baron Sammah. What could they do? Sammah had pinned up the decree, signed by the king, in the great hall for all to see.

  Sammah glanced behind him. As always, Neyv followed, like an obedient sheep. He didn’t dare go about the place without her, lest he come across someone like Obrenn, who needed to be kept under heel. He hadn’t seen Vance now for a few days, and Sammah worried that the truths he’d spun around the king were beginning to slip. This meeting would take it out of Neyv, but it was essential for Sammah to keep Vance convinced that he was ill; that his life was in danger; that Shiver had betrayed him, and framed Sammah for his crimes.

  The guardsmen stood to one side and Sammah stepped through the door. The chambers were as he’d feared. The long curtains which Sammah held closed to keep the room close and dark had been flung to one side, and daylight streamed in. Vance was out of bed, clothed, and rifling through a mound of parchments at his desk. As soon as he saw Sammah, he spun around, standing from his chair, which fell to the carpet with a mute thud. Sammah made sure Neyv had made it into the room before yanking the doors shut. He didn’t want the guards to hear anything the king might say in contravention to the lies Sammah had already spun.

  “My guards won’t let me leave my own rooms, Sammah. What’s happening here? I’m fine. The poison is gone. My people need me. Why am I being kept in here like a convict?"

  “Your highness, we discussed this. You must still be unwell, if you can’t remember. This poison, it is slow acting, and stays long in the body. Some days you will feel fine, but if you exert yourself you will become feverish again, and it will take over your body again. It’s still there, sire, and we have to keep you rested. Eleska didn’t take my advice, worrying over you, and we know what happened to her, may the spirits rest her soul.”

  “Don’t speak her name.” Vance sat down hard on the carpet at the mention of his wife, choking as a sob wracked his body. Emotionally, the king was a mess, and Sammah wasn’t surprised considering the influences of Neyv in the past weeks. It had been a fascinating study for Sammah as the king had descended into madness. Neyv had been part of Sammah and Vance’s relationship for years. Apparently, increasing the girl’s presence had made him hugely unstable.

  “Sorry, your highness, I have to say such things for your own good. Don’t let her sacrifice for you be in vain. We know how to fight this, and you have to cooperate with me. Your healers can’t fix this. It’s a Sha’sekian poison, and can only be fixed by Sha’sekian hands."

  “The tincture?” Vance blinked up at Sammah through bloodshot eyes. “Did you make more of it?"

  “I did your highness, it’s here.” Sammah reached into a pocket, taking out a slender vial filled with a thin brown liquid. It was a mixture of puddle water and a handful of random herbs Maertn left behind in his rooms. Sammah had no idea whether the mixture might actually poison the king accidentally, though that would be no devastating thing. All he cared about was reinforcing the story he’d woven about Shiver’s plot to poison the king and take the throne. The tincture that only Sha’sekians could brew, was the only cure for a poison that Shiver had been sneaking into the royal meals over the course of the meet. Shiver had worked with the help of Maertn, using his Sha’sekian skills. Queen Eleska and their children had died of poisoning in the past week, though not by Maertn’s hand. Mired in grief, Vance had succumbed to the story without much of a struggle. Seeing the solution in Sammah’s hand, he struggled back to his feet.

  “Get me some water. You—girl—now.”

  Neyv obeyed immediately. The first time this had happened, she’d asked Sammah first whether or not she should go, and Vance had been furious. Now, both Sammah and Neyv were used to this. The king could never remember who she was, believing she was a handmaid or some other subservient part of his retinue. Neyv had lived in Everfell since she was under two years old, and the king seen her countless times as part of Sammah’s household. Neyv was a shadow, and the longer Sammah saw this, the more he realised that all along, Neyv had been perfect. It was a shame Quinn couldn’t have had this girl’s personality, instead of the fiery temper she’d inherited from her parents. Testing the integrity of his story with Neyv out of the room, Sammah ventured to discuss the potential encounter with Shiver.

  “The preparations go well sire, although Erran and Obrenn are somewhat prickly about raising their banners.”

  “I thought they would be. I can’t trust them, can I? You were right Sammah, I shouldn’t have questioned you.” Vance was putty in Sammah’s hands, believing any information the baron supplied him. “What can we do about this? What other allies do we have?”

  “The only neutral land is Broadwater, sire, and with Alec dead, they are near to useless to either side.”

  “How is Broc doing with Regan?"

  “He’s just a little boy. He’s not going to be fit to rule in time, never mind be able to contribute men to our cause. No one will follow him. The boy was never going to inherit, and we are meant to be in a time of peace although Sevenspells appear to have completely disregarded that.”

  “Please, stop reminding me about these things. I’m plagued by them in my sleep, only to be reminded of them when my only visitor comes to call."

  “I apologise, sire. Of course, we all know that you need to be kept at rest. I’m filtering out the useless noise from the lords, but some of this information does unfortunately need to be passed to you.”

  Snatching the vial from Sammah and holding it tight in his fist, Vance wandered back over to the bed. His eyes went distant. Not many men were aware of how it felt to be under the influence of a gifted like Neyv, though Sammah knew, from his own studies and the writings of his ancestor Sammen, exactly how Vance would be feeling right now.

  Whilst not quite as rare as the empath, Neyv was unique enough amongst the gifted of Sha’sek. She was in effect a glamour, adjusting the world around her to fit as she wanted it. Sammah could control that world, like he’d controlled Quinn’s, because Neyv’s ability could not penetrate his apathic barrier. When someone in the same room as Neyv told a lie, others believed it. The more convincing the lie, the more easily the glamour took hold. Listeners wouldn’t think to question or reason with the lie; a cloud would roll over their minds, a fog created by Neyv’s ability, which was impossible for a mere man to overcome. This was why no one remembered her name. When someone saw Neyv, they almost instantly forgot her, her glamour made sure of that. Various people had more of an inclination to remember Neyv, and the extent to which they did, depended on their own mental fortitude. Some, like Quinn, could even recall details about Neyv, and that was a testament to Quinn’s own mental fortitude. Others, like Ross, simply recalled, through seeing the girl so often, that she existed in some form. If Quinn could resist Neyv, then she might go from being an asset to being a challenge.

  He had the throne. Shiver was a threat, but could be controlled. If Shiver tried to use Quinn against him, Sammah would have to kill her next.

  Neyv trotted back into the room carrying a plain wooden jug full of water. She placed it on the table and went to move away, but within seconds Vance was bawling at the girl again, “Put it in a glass, girl. What’s wr
ong with you? Are you new here? What’s happened to my page?”

  Neyv dropped the king a curtsey. “Apologies your highness, the kitchens are a mess and I was sent up here so we didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “Yes, yes some things must be a state. Sammah, you were talking about our preparations—what word from the borders. Is Shiver showing any sign of attack?”

  “I don’t think it will come to that, not yet.” Sammah waved his hands dismissively. “Shiver might have gathered a decent force, but I don’t believe he has the balls to attack us directly. No, he’s already shown how brave his is by trying to poison you. He is going to try and win this from a distance. That’s why we have to keep you isolated, and away from anyone that might cause you harm.”

  “You said…” Vance waved at Sammah, who threw the vial across the room. Vance caught it with a desperate snatch, dropping a couple of splashes of his special tincture into a glass of water. “Including those with abilities, like Maertn. Tell me why I should trust you again?”

  “Because sire," Sammah said with a laugh, “I was born plain, remember? I have no ability. I come from a reputable house, but compared to my elder brother I am nothing. Therefore he sought to make use of me politically. Hopefully sire, after all this time spent in your court, you can see the benefits that has brought.”

  “Yes, I…” Vance shook his head, trying to clear his mind as Sammah’s story wedged its way in. “I still find it hard that Shiver has gone to such lengths to try and take the throne. I knew he was callous, but this? Forgive my rambling, I don’t feel well.”

  Sammah’s tale for Vance had been simple, and repeatedly reinforced to not only the king, but those that might encounter him. The royal guards all believed the same. Shiver was the one to blame for the attacks. Shiver had killed Alec, and been behind the plot to dethrone the king. Shiver had framed Sammah for it all, using the baron’s position in court as the reason he could get so close to the king and his family. The beauty of the story was its simplicity: it had been easy to convince most, that this was the new truth.

  The king guzzled down the glass of water in one go, shuddering only slightly at the bitter aftertaste. “We have our grain stores, and what remains of the harvest to bring in from the fields. We can preserve much, as well as the meats. We have meagre water provisions, according to my notes, but we can dip into the waters of the springs as a last resort.”

  “Of course sire, I can review those for you. Now sire, if I can implore you to please get some rest? You’ve exhausted yourself. Look at you, your skin is flushed. Do you have a headache? Are you feverish?”

  Sammah shuffled over to the king, cushioning him gently by the elbow and leading him to the bed. On hearing the baron’s words, Vance lifted a shaking hand to his forehead. “I do, I do feel hot, now that you’ve mentioned it. Please, close the curtains. I cannot be dealing with that bright light—I don’t know what possessed me to open them. Leave me. Keep me abreast of the preparations, but do not tire me with the small details. If Erran and Calvin get out of line then just send them to me. I am still the king; you, Sammah, are my vessel.”

  Sammah bowed, “Anything for you, your Highness.” Some advanced in the government remain tightlipped. Vance rolled over, digging himself deeper into his luxurious failings, forgetting they existed. Sammah waved Neyv out of the room, and closed the door on the king behind him. This was the way everyone in Sammah’s life should serve—with unquestioning obedience.

  3

  “What King Shiver expects is unwavering obedience.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes, and Eden saw it, failing to hide a smirk in response. They were seated together on a horse at the head of Harn’s small caravan of soldiers and wagons. They’d passed through Port Kahnel without incident, although they managed to draw quite a crowd, slowing down their progress. Quinn had been scared that they would be mobbed, but most had recognised the soldiers’ garb in the green and gold of Sevenspells and called out in support. The people of the port knew that war was coming, and their lord had pledged his loyalty to Sevenspells. Harn had declared they would ride for as long as it took to stay for the night in the same place they’d broken camp that morning. He had left a handful of guardsmen to hold the spot, which was tactically easy to retain, he claimed.

  Quinn hadn’t been interested in the details, though Eden had. So had Ross, eager to know that they’d be safe overnight in the hands of strange men. Harn had been telling the truth, or at least Quinn knew that he believed they would be safe, so she had let the soldiers get on with their chatter. With that one quick gesture in Kahnel, Quinn picked up the faint thread of so many nerves, and so much fear, that she hadn’t felt safe to read anyone else until they were a long distance clear of the harbour and its crowds.

  In isolation, Quinn had quickly checked on Eden and Ross. Eden was almost bouncing with tense anxiety and, more worryingly, excitement. Ross was oozing calm, as he always did. The man’s patience was infuriating. Quinn wished he could teach her how to keep such a cool head, no matter how much seemed to be going wrong around him. Quinn leaned back in the saddle, closing her eyes. She hadn’t rested enough since the Sighs. Eden was guiding their horse. She let him take her weight, and let her mind drift away.

  * * *

  “How was your stay in Farn, my lord?”

  Quinn opened her eyes slightly, waiting for Eden’s answer. Harn didn’t seem like the kind of man taken with small talk, so Quinn could only think that there were more subtle reasons for the inquiry. Eden’s answer sounded cagey.

  “It was as you might expect, given what we’ve heard about the place. The city was a chaotic mess. I’m glad I left.”

  Quinn pressed her lips together quietly, moistening them. The air was suddenly dry.

  “I have heard some positive things about the islands my lord, especially from Lynton over there. I hear the ladies are quite beautiful, and their entertainment excellent. Were you able to see any of that before you had to return?”

  “I don’t recall any ladies of note, though I was blessed to hear a gifted singer by the name of Rhi. It would be disappointing indeed if I have to live the rest of my life without hearing her voice again.”

  “I find it difficult to believe there was no one there that caught your fancy, Eden, though I admire your attempt to spare the feelings of the empath. All in vain, by the way. King Shiver has been arranging a match for you, and you will be introduced to your betrothed when we get back to Sevenspells."

  Quinn was jolted in the saddle as Eden shifted in his seat. She couldn’t see it, but she imagined the cruel vicious grin spreading now across Harn’s ugly face. She felt like drawing Eden’s sword and throwing it in the man’s conniving back.

  “Father can’t do that! He can’t arrange a marriage without my say-so!”

  Harn didn’t change tone, as if this was a completely normal conversation to be holding. “Of course he can, especially when the royal succession is at stake. Do you think he’s going to allow you to marry a commoner? Of Sha’sekian descent? No my lord, that’s not quite the match we’re looking for, for you.

  “I’m only letting you know, so you don’t make a fool of yourself when you get to the city. Think of it as a favour from a friend. You’ve got this time now with your Sha’sekian plaything, but that time is going to come to an end. You need to get that into your head, and quickly. King Shiver won’t tolerate any disobedience.”

  “Then King Shiver will have to find himself another son.”

  Quinn squeezed Eden’s thigh, trying to reassure him. “Don’t be so brash Eden. We knew this was coming. Don’t rise to him, he wants to bait you. This is a matter between you and your father, and it has nothing to do with Harn.”

  “She’s right there, it is nothing to do with me; but your marriage, Lord Eden, is as inexorable as the rise of the sun. Haven’t you realised I keep referring to you as a lord, and not a prince, like you should now be? There are question marks over your loyalty to your king and your people, so you w
ill only truly be named as one of king’s heirs when you agree to the marriage he has made for you.”

  “And to whom am I being chained in matrimony?”

  “That, truly, is between you and our king.” Harn rode off, back to the head of the caravan.

  Eden felt like throwing the reins in frustration, but he knew that would scare the horse. Harn had succeeded in annoying him, and Quinn was right. Now Eden would spend the rest of the journey to Sevenspells—one that he’d actually been looking forward to, in a foul mood.

  Ross brought his horse alongside them, as Harn didn’t seem to care where he rode as long as he stayed with the group. He wasn’t armed, and archers had been instructed to aim to kill if he did try to ride away. Ross had already told Quinn in confidence that he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Now, more than ever, he felt compelled to keep a close eye on his two young charges.

  “What’s that spiteful bastard been saying now?”

  “Eden is going to be married.” Quinn had waited for a short breath to see if Eden would respond to Ross, but he was keeping his mouth tightly shut. Ross snorted. “It’s taken Shiver long enough. I’m not surprised. If Shiver is trying to reinforce his position as king, he’ll be making political matches for the lot of you.”

  “What? Aren’t you meant to be on our side in this Ross? We’re in love—we’re going to be together whether my father likes it or not."

  “So say the sickening love stories adorning the shelves of every major library in every major city. And you know how those stories end? You knew you’d have a marriage arranged at some point, Eden, before you met Quinn. What’s happening now has just forced his hand. Men like you are used to form alliances, whether you like it or not. Whatever match Shiver has picked for you, you’re going to have to go along with it. If you value your head, that is."