The Quickening

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘What?’ Cailech said, spilling wine on his hand as he leaned forward in his chair. His demeanour suggested fear for someone he cared for.

  Intrigued by his reaction, she continued: ‘The last I heard, she was near death and being carried to Pearlis — or so Liryk tells me.’

  The King’s face drained of colour momentarily. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Why do you care? She is a Morgravian slut to you, surely?’

  She watched the King hesitate, his gaze darkening as he collected his thoughts.

  ‘I care,’ was all he said. ‘Is she alive?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But that’s all I know.’

  Wyl put the cup down and, without realising it, began to pull at an earlobe as he thought on this news. He did not notice the sudden sick expression that crossed the Queen’s face. Presumably Crys Donal was with Elspyth, he decided. He asked as much and the Queen nodded. He could not know that she did not trust her voice to speak, her eyes riveted on the habit she had seen in four people now, starting with Wyl Thirsk.

  ‘Valentyna,’ Cailech began, but the Queen was no longer interested in the strange game that was being played out between them. She stood suddenly and demanded: ‘Why is it that Knave sits at your side? He belonged to Wyl Thirsk and looks kindly only on those Wyl loved. So why does he choose to accompany you?’

  Wyl could no longer stand the tension between them. He put down his wine and stood also, facing the woman he so loved. He was very close and a head taller than she. To her credit, he thought, she did not flinch. Any other woman would have been screaming for the guard by now, but the defiance in Valentyna’s eyes only fired his desire more and he took her hand and pulled her towards him. This time he would kiss her as a man and to hell with the consequences.

  Valentyna did not fight him. She did not think she could have resisted him even if she had wanted to. It shocked her to realise that she did not much care whether she was kissing Wyl Thirsk, Romen Koreldy or even Ylena Thirsk, for Cailech, King of the Mountains, had a raw and blistering charisma that burned around him like a halo. If her heartbeat had increased for Romen then it was hammering for Cailech, and if her body had yearned for Romen’s touch then she wanted to throw herself down now before the hearth and have Cailech take her like the barbarian he was purported to be. The ardour she had felt for Romen was nothing in comparison to the carnal desire she was experiencing for this golden man who was standing too close, his huge hands gripping her upper arms, their faces a hair’s breadth apart, the fire of passion burning between them.

  Wyl found his courage. He kissed Valentyna and instantly became lost in a sizzling rush of desire and need he had hungered after for too long.

  The fire had burned so low it was only glowing embers but neither noticed the cool of the air. Their naked bodies were still entwined and to Valentyna it was as though they were one. She could not feel where her lean limbs began and his muscled limbs ended. They lay facing each other and she stroked his golden hair while he held her in an embrace she never wanted to leave and stared at her in a way that made her heart leap all over again.

  ‘Perhaps I should have asked first?’ he said.

  She laughed, full-throated and tinged with a devil-may-care happiness she had never thought she could feel again. ‘Particularly as it was my first time,’ she said, pulling a face.

  ‘I’ll kill myself if I hurt you,’ he admitted.

  ‘That’s not the sort of comment I would expect from a barbarian King.’

  ‘We are not barbarians,’ he said, dropping his hand away.

  Her expression betrayed her anguish. ‘Oh, Cailech, no, I didn’t mean it that way. It was a jest. It’s just that…’

  ‘Just what?’ he asked softly, returning his hand to the crook of her back and resting it in the soft dip before the rise of her buttocks.

  She felt his fresh arousal and smiled to herself as she realised what power women had over men. Even a King could be made so weak. No weapon, no threat, no blood; just a woman’s body was all it took to make an enemy King compliant. Celimus should have come and seen her before to discuss the problem in the north — she and her kind could have solved it in an instant, she thought. But this man is no enemy, she thought, delighting in the fact that she had just lost her virginity to him. She did not have to gift it to Celimus.

  ‘It’s just that I feel as though I know you,’ she risked, daring to venture towards her wild thoughts of earlier.

  ‘You do,’ he said gently, watching her carefully.

  She sat up, her breasts high yet irresistibly heavy and rounded. Wyl wanted to pinch himself to make sure that he was really here with her and she was not just returning his affections but inviting them, loving them. He too sat up and reached towards her but she took his hands and put them into her lap.

  ‘We’ve known each other less than a couple of hours, Cailech, and we’ve spent more than half of that time making love. No preamble, no honeyed words and romantic gestures. It’s impossible that I would act this way — impossible! But I felt a burning for you from the moment we met. Before, in fact. I watched you from my window as you stood on Werryl Bridge, surrounded by guards, and my heart was pounding for you then.’

  ‘Valentyna, I —’

  ‘No, wait. I have to say this.’ She smiled, suddenly embarrassed, and pulled around her the dress which she remembered him unbuttoning not so long ago and helping her to step out of. ‘There are a lot of voices crowding in my mind — a boy called Fynch, for one, whom I adore.’ She noticed something dark flicker across his face at the mention of Fynch but she pressed on, determined to say what had been niggling at her for so long. ‘He once said something profound to me, which I dismissed as a child’s fancy. I think now I was wrong. Then Elspyth encouraged me to open my heart to someone else after I was betrayed by the man I loved, Romen Koreldy. He was not true, but I have never stopped loving him.’

  Again Wyl tried to speak and again she hushed him, this time with a hand to his lips. Tears welled in her eyes at the mention of Romen. ‘A noblewoman called Ylena Thirsk came to me to offer her help and then gave herself up like a sacrifice to King Celimus so that the Legion would be withdrawn from our borders. You were there at Felrawthy, Cailech, you would have met her. It was a lie that I sent her to him. It was all her own selfless idea to walk into the dragon’s den.’

  He nodded and she saw the grief in him. ‘Where is she now?’ she asked, almost too frightened to hear the truth.

  ‘She is dead, Valentyna. She showed the courage to match her name. The Thirsks have always been true to Morgravia and yet both Wyl and Ylena pledged themselves to you. They both loved you in their own way.’

  His words made her weep openly now. ‘Who killed her?’

  ‘I did,’ he whispered.

  She looked at him, not understanding. ‘You?’

  He nodded so sadly she had to believe him. ‘It was an accident. I rescued her from the grip of Celimus — he had planned a horrible death for her which I won’t sully your presence by describing. Suffice to say it was up to his usual cruel and humiliating standard. Aremys and I took her away from Felrawthy and into the Razors.’

  ‘What happened there?’

  ‘She did something very brave — may I leave it at that? I find it painful to think on.’

  Valentyna heard the tremor in his voice. The description Romen had given of Cailech was of a man who was anything but tender like this. She ticked it in her mind as another factor on the side of impostor. Too many ticks were mounting on that side of the ledger and so far nothing pointed to this being the arrogant sovereign of the Mountain People. But then that description was hearsay — always second-hand. She needed to find out the truth for herself.

  ‘I will grieve for Ylena. She was my friend.’

  It was Wyl’s turn to take a chance. ‘She told me you parted on bad terms.’

  Valentyna pushed her hair back from her face. ‘We parted amicably, although there was something between us… Ylena
tried to make love to me,’ she stammered, surprising herself with her candour.

  Cailech looked down at their linked hands. ‘Yes, she told me her error. Wished she could take it back.’

  ‘I wish I could have reacted differently. But Knave, Cailech — how is it that this dog favours you in the same way he favoured Wyl Thirsk, Fynch, Ylena and Romen?’

  I could tell her, Wyl thought frantically, and see what happens. Or he could preserve the lie and not trouble her life with talk of magic. Already a plan was forming in his mind. Now he had possessed her so completely he knew he could never let her go, never allow her to be with Celimus. The most daring yet logical scenario seemed to be to call the Mountain warriors into Briavel and take their chances on war with the Legion. If Crys Donal had taken his advice, then he would be stirring up trouble within the Legion anyway, and with powerful people such as the Benches behind that push perhaps Celimus would not have so many of his Legionnaires to count on.

  He made his decision. ‘I have a plan, Valentyna, which may prevent you marrying King Celimus. It is fraught with danger, and no doubt spells death for some Briavellians, but I believe it is the proud path for your realm. You know Celimus has killed so many, not the least of whom was your own father,’ he said, hating to see how his words brought tears, ‘and so perhaps it is the way you want to go anyway. Until now I haven’t been able to help you. I thought you were as trapped as I am.’

  She looked at him and frowned. ‘You’re not making sense. Why are you trapped?’

  It was time. This had not been his intention when he set out from the Razors, but then he had not expected for a moment that he would be holding a naked Valentyna in his arms and able to speak the love he had felt for her for so long. Sharing her body had changed everything. He swallowed hard, wondering at how she would react. ‘I have to tell you something,’ he said.

  ‘I hear fear in your voice,’ she replied. ‘Why does what you are about to say scare you?’

  ‘Because it requires an honesty I have been unable to find before with you. I was scared it would push you away.’

  She shook her head. ‘But you have never met me before,’ she said, feeling the soft hairs lift on her arms and behind her neck. This was it. This was what she had searched her soul for. He was going to give her the answer.

  ‘I have met you before, Valentyna. I first met you and fell in love with you in this very chamber. Your father was present and we took supper together and you laughed at me because I was too short in your opinion to be an emissary from the King of Morgravia.’

  If time could stand still, if a heart could stop beating, if all breath could cease and one could still live, Valentyna would believe that was what was happening to her now. She kept silent, her eyes riveted on Cailech’s.

  ‘And when I met you again, my beloved,’ the King reached for his trousers, pulling from them a handkerchief, ‘you gave me this.’

  Valentyna was sobbing now, deep, heartfelt sobs. She shook her head in denial. What she had wanted to hear suddenly sounded too frightening to contemplate. ‘I gave that to Romen Koreldy,’ she pleaded, squeezing Cailech’s hands so tight her own felt numb. ‘He was a Grenadyne nobleman, a mercenary.’

  ‘He was me,’ Wyl said gently, tears welling in his own eyes. ‘It was me you loved, Valentyna. Romen was dead — you never knew the real man. I am Wyl Thirsk and I was trapped in Romen’s body.’

  Words failed her. It was as if she was listening to a language she did not understand. He continued, driving the nails of pain into her heart.

  ‘I returned to your life as Ylena, my own sister. My brave girl tried to stand up to Romen’s killer.’

  ‘Hildyth, the whore,’ Valentyna whispered.

  ‘Her real name was Faryl. She was an assassin sent by Celimus to kill Romen, which she successfully achieved, except that it was me inside Romen’s body and the magic, known as the Quickening, forced me to take over her life and she died instead.’ He pulled Valentyna close and, to his surprise, she permitted it. He went on, determined to say it all. ‘Ylena heard about Faryl. She took her chance at Tenterdyn as I raced to catch up with her and Elspyth, and a lucky blow killed me once again, this time compelling me to take my sister’s life.’

  Valentyna gave an audible sob.

  ‘I had to see you, to try and help you,’ Wyl went on. ‘I came back to Werryl and tried so hard not to make a fool of myself, but still I succeeded in doing so. I have loved you, Valentyna, since that very first night. I’m sorry for humiliating you and making you feel so bad about Ylena.’

  Valentyna took the linen handkerchief from his lap and dried her eyes. She told herself to find some strength. Her father would be ashamed to see her so undone, and yet it was unlikely he had ever faced anything this daunting in his long life. She sniffed and tried for a watery smile, but failed. She raised her hand to wipe away Wyl’s tears too.

  ‘I think I knew it then. Your sister showed too many masculine traits — habits I recognised as belonging to Romen. But I just couldn’t make myself believe something so incredible. And so,’ she continued for him, ‘Ylena lost her fight again and became King Cailech, is that right, Wyl?’

  To hear her speak his true name was more than he had ever dreamed. He kissed her and stroked her hair. ‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘I’m Wyl. I’m so sorry for duping you but I was just trying to protect you.’

  ‘From myself,’ she said harshly, ‘because I wouldn’t accept the existence of magic.’ She thought of all the occasions when Fynch had tried so hard to convince her.

  ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Wyl urged. ‘I would not have believed it either if it had not happened to me. I am cursed. Cursed by the witch Myrren with a gift I never asked for.’

  ‘But you see, Wyl, others believed you — I presume Aremys knows?’ He nodded. ‘You see. You have people who trust you. I hate myself because I did not.’

  ‘You didn’t know!’ he said, desperate not to upset her any further.

  ‘I saw the clues. It was all there for me. Knave did everything but speak to me,’ she cried. ‘But that means Romen wasn’t real.’ She was wavering between belief and denial again.

  ‘Oh no, Valentynta, no! Don’t cry. Romen was real. As real as I am here. I was Romen; he was me. It’s me, Wyl, who loves you, who said all of those things to you as Romen.’

  ‘You?’ the Queen said, dazed. ‘Wyl Thirsk. Poor red-headed Wyl.’

  ‘That’s right,’ he whispered, sad to feel her draw away from him. ‘It’s always been me. I stopped you giving yourself to Romen that night; I planned the feast celebrations; I gave you a dove mask and told you I loved you. I wore the black mask and fought Celimus. I would have killed him too, if not for you. It broke my heart to see my betrayal reflected in your eyes.’

  She stared back at him, wanting to believe but struggling to cope with such shattering news. He understood.

  ‘Know this, Valentyna. Whatever happens now, I have loved you with all my heart. I love you now and I will love you for ever, whoever I am. There is nothing you could ever do to make me feel another way, and I shall never give my heart to another. It is yours — I am one with you.’

  Valentyna sighed. What could she say in response?

  He rescued her. ‘May I tell you my plan?’

  She hesitated, then seemed to relax. ‘I don’t really know how to reply to your sweet words. I… I loved Romen, and I cannot give you — whoever you are — up.’

  Wyl nodded, afraid, yet daring to hope she might be able to love him back. Her suggestion of not being able to give him up now made his spirits soar.

  ‘Wyl,’ she began again, but was interrupted by a frantic knocking. Her soft expression turned to one of terror. ‘Quick, we must dress!’

  Wyl was into his few garments in moments, and was impressed at how quickly and deftly the Queen threw on her gown despite the intimidating banging on the door. ‘Stall for time,’ he hissed, helping her to button the back.

  Valentyna was about to call
out some excuse for the delay when the door burst open. It was Aremys. He took in the scene in a second and a look of deep apology swept across his face, but the palpable sense of fear which entered the room with him caused all three to forget their embarrassment.

  Valentyna was at his side rapidly, praying to Shar that none of her men would notice her dishevelment or guess that her gown was still undone at the back. ‘We’ll be fine, thank you,’ she said, closing the door on the anxious guards.

  ‘What is it?’ Wyl asked, stepping to Valentyna’s side and finishing off the buttons on her dress.

  ‘Celimus,’ Aremys answered. He could not hide the distress in his voice.

  ‘What? Here?’ Valentyna rushed to the window.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Come on, Wyl, we leave now!’

  ‘You called him Wyl,’ Valentyna said, turning from the window. She had seen the riders flying Legion colours below. It was true then. Out of Wyl’s affectionate embrace, the intimate moment lost, the reality felt harsh and suddenly ridiculous.

  Aremys shrugged, sheepish. ‘Well, your highness, I assume he has told you the truth. Is that right, Wyl?’

  Wyl nodded, glancing towards the Queen with a heavy heart. It was over so soon… before he had even had a chance to put his plan into action.

  ‘Wyl!’ Aremys repeated. ‘We go now! Sorry, your highness.’

  Wyl did not move.

  ‘Go!’ Valentyna urged, catching Farrow’s infectious anxiety. ‘Please. The Legion is entering the palace.’

  ‘Is Celimus here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t —’

  Aremys interrupted, angry now. ‘He’s here in person, Wyl. I beg you, let’s go.’

  King Cailech took some time to right his clothes, then a calm smile broke across the rugged face that truly reflected the mountain region which raised him. ‘This is meant to be, Aremys,’ he said, his voice soft and sad. ‘This is it, the culmination of Myrren’s gift.’