“Do you have a family there?”
“A daughter. My wife died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, but if the town is as bad as you say, there must be some way you can leave.”
“There isn’t and if you insist on coming with me, you will have to keep your head down and do as you’re told.”
Not likely.
He sat beside her, reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. The firelight danced across his handsome features making him look young. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise.”
His free hand came up and stroked the side of her face. “You are so beautiful, Larkin.”
Kiernan swallowed, remembering when Beck Atlan told her the same after seeing her in her blue dress all those years ago. She started to pull away from Cael, but found herself wondering how much loyalty she owed to an old childhood memory and a man who was in all likelihood dead.
Cael gently tugged at the knot in her hair. “I want to see your hair down.”
She stopped him by wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “I want you to cut it off.”
He looked at her aghast. “Why would you want to do such a thing?”
“I just want it off,” she pleaded, anxious to shed the last vestiges of what made her Kiernan Everard. With her hair gone, she truly would be Larkin Malley, a scullery maid from Nysa, and she could move on with a new life in Lewstin.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, please.”
He caught her eyes in his and held them. What he saw there must have convinced him. He stood and rummaged in the wagon for a few moments before returning with a straight razor. “I don’t know how good this is going to look.”
“Just do it.”
He knelt behind her. With a tender hand, he untied the knot in her hair and spread it out to flow over her shoulders. Taking a portion of her blonde tresses in his hand, he sliced away the first large clump.
She started to cry. Terrible, wrenching sobs that grew louder with each cut. Every strand drifting to the ground taking another piece of her with it.
Chapter 17
A New King
A hand brushed against Kiernan’s cheek, nudging her awake. Calloused fingertips smoothed her hair behind one ear, lulling her into a fallacious sense of well-being. For, despite the gentle touch and her sluggish thoughts, the trauma of the evening before remained vivid.
Dear Highworld, it’s only hair! Kiernan’s mind screamed at her, but her heart knew otherwise. Whatever else happened from this day forward, Kiernan Everard was now dead and gone.
“Are you awake?” Cael asked softly above her and she realized that her head was in his lap.
She sat up and nodded, embarrassed that she lost control of her emotions in front him. He didn’t deserve to be saddled with her problems. Yet, she wasn’t about to let him go. She needed him.
He grunted and stretched from his sitting position leaning against a log. Judging by the lightening sky, it was well past dawn. “You’ve been sitting here all night?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“Cael! You should have wakened me. I’m sorry for last night. I don’t usually break down like that.” At least, I don’t think I do.
“I can believe it.” At her questioning gaze, he said, “Come now. You stole my knife, accosted me in the rain for a ride to nowhere, and now I’m contemplating taking you to the most dangerous town in Iserlohn. Yes, I’m thinking that Larkin Malley is usually very much in control.” He pointed to the now visible athame on her neck. “And, a shifter, too.”
She nodded and held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t ask any further questions.
He didn’t. “Let me see how I did,” he said instead. He gripped her chin in his hands and tilted her face to the left and then to the right. “Not bad.”
Her cheeks warmed under his appraisal. She raised her hand to run it through her hair and it stopped short just below her chin. “How do I look?”
“Like a runaway maid.”
“Perfect.”
He stood, lifted her to her feet and drew her in tight to his chest. Warm brown eyes tugged her in further. “If I’m to be honest, one of the most beautiful maids I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She brought her hands up between them to shove him away, but found her palms gliding over the muscle beneath his shirt instead.
“What…what are you doing?”
“I think I’m going to kiss you.”
At the look he gave her, something inside of her shifted. His mouth hovered enticing close, promising refuge. Lost in those lips, she could forget about assassins and death. In those lips, she could forget that she was utterly alone in this world.
“Tell me true, Larkin, are you married?” he asked in a ragged pant.
“I…I don’t think so.”
Confusion flicked briefly across his face, but desire won through and he lowered his mouth to hers.
“There you are!”
Kiernan sprang away from Cael and twisted around.
An older man with short, graying hair walked into their campsite. There was no mistaking the resemblance.
“Father,” Cael greeted with a distinct lack of warmth.
The elder Trathen looked at her. “Who is this, Cael?”
Cael stood in front of her. “This is Larkin Malley. She’s coming to Lewstin with me.”
A long pause ensued as the Trathen men fought a war of unsaid words.
“Is she an oreshifter?”
“No.”
“Son…”
“I’ll protect her.”
“He’ll use her against you.”
“He already does that with Tilly. You’ve made sure of that,” he spat.
Cael’s father’s jaw clenched so tight, Kiernan thought his teeth might crack. “And, you want Mistress Malley to suffer the same fate?”
She stepped around Cael. “Oh, I am going to Lewstin, Master Trathen, with or without you.” She glanced at Cael. “Or your son.”
****
Beck’s heart pumped rapidly in his chest. Rarely did he feel this anxious anymore, but today—for Kiernan—he knew he had to maneuver just right.
The volume of noise in Grace Hall grew louder with each new addition through the doors. The invited guests would number far less than the Request for Swords ceremony. The Royal Court, minor nobles and key military officers only.
Beck stood on the dais and faced the crowd, watching the Court walk through the hall, shaking hands, patting backs, their smiles just wide enough as they made their way to their chairs.
Beck kept his expression flat as they passed by. If they had any inkling of the doubt that plagued him, the game would be over. All that Maximus and Kiernan fought for their entire lives would come to a crashing end.
At least Lord Bartlett and Lady Morningstar looked none the worse for wear for their mind-altering ordeal and that was of small comfort to Beck.
Lady Mila Stowe, flanked by two Wildcats in black and yellow, came in last to take her seat, diligently avoiding the hard looks leveled her way. This whole nightmare had been tough on the young noble and Beck felt immense sympathy for her.
No tables or chairs had been put out. With the exception of the Court behind him, the guests would stand. A tactic Beck hoped would ensure a quick meeting.
When the last whisper died down, he lifted his hands. “Honored guests, I invited you here today to address the rumors that have been circulating throughout the city.” After long thought, he decided honesty would be best. “First, I can confirm that Princess Kiernan is indeed missing.”
“Found out you’ve been bedding Lady Stowe, did she?” someone brazenly accused.
The crowd exploded. Some lending their voices to back the charge, others hotly denying it as an outrageous lie. The Court, he noticed, was quiet.
“No,” Beck said softly, although it was enough to silence the room once again. “The rumor is untrue. Tho
se that know me know that I am incapable of such a betrayal and those that don’t, I’ll never be able to convince otherwise. And, that is the last I will say on this matter.”
“Perhaps Lady Stowe would care to weigh in?” This from a minor noble wearing the House colors of Bartlett. Beck should have known his name, but he didn’t.
Mila glared at the man, but kept quiet. One of her men at arms wasn’t as forgiving. He flew off the dais in a fit of rage, drawing steel as he went. Bartlett’s Hawks moved in to intercept the Wildcat. Harsh words were exchanged. Several Sabers intervened in an attempt to restore order.
Beck ground his teeth in frustration while he waited. It took several moments for the Sabers to calm everyone and escort a few agitators from the hall. Finally, when he had the attention of the guests once again, he cleared his throat loudly. “The other rumor I would like to address involves the murder of King Maximus. A witness claims that sorcery was involved.”
“I knew it! Those vile Dagarmon dogs!”
“No!” Beck shouted. “This was not the act of a Dagarmon.”
“Was it a Mage?”
“I don’t have that answer today, but I can assure you that I will hunt down and destroy whoever is responsible.” He paused, knowing his next comment would start a firestorm. After anguishing over the decision throughout the night, he realized he had no other choice. The answers he needed could only be found elsewhere. “In fact, I will be leaving Nysa this afternoon to do just that. In my absence, I am naming Lord Gage Gregaros as King Regent of Iserlohn.”
Lord Bartlett flew to his feet amid loud, startled gasps. “What? You can’t do that!”
“Call the royal scribe!” Lady Morningstar shouted and others joined in, demanding that Josef Asher confirm the legitimacy of such an act. Beck couldn’t care less what the nobles thought of his proposal, but the heartfelt plea from one of Lady Knapp’s retinue hit him hard.
“You will abandon us, Prince Beck?”
“No!” he said adamantly. “House Everard stands firm! I promise you that.”
“Can’t you see? You’ll be starting an accession war by abdicating the throne!” someone cried out.
“I’m not abdicating! You know my family! Kenley, Kellan, Kane and little Gracyn. And, you know Princess Kiernan. She works tirelessly for the people of Iserlohn and she would never abandon her duty. I intend to find her and bring her home so she can take her rightful place as your Queen.”
He might as well have been speaking to the wall. Arguments started once again. Scuffles broke out.
Don’t these people care about Kiernan after all she’s done for them? Aren’t they worried that she is missing? With some effort, he reminded himself that what festered inside the city walls did not reflect the rest of the land. If this were Bardot or Northfort or Janis, this would not be happening. But, this was Nysa where political machinations were second nature. One person’s fall just another’s opportunity.
A sad state of affairs as far as he was concerned, and he was done trying to convince people.
Disgusted, he took a step down off the dais to leave, but a hand on his arm turned him around. Gage Gregaros pulled him to the side. “King Regent, huh?” he asked with a smirk. “It would have been nice to know of your plans beforehand, Your Grace.”
“You’re the only one I trust, Gage, to keep House Everard standing. Kiernan’s in trouble and I have to find her. Can I count on you?”
“You know you can.” He tossed a worried glance over his shoulder. “I just hope I can keep the wolves from my throat until you get back.”
Chapter 18
All Roads Lead to Nysa
Rayan rode along the narrow path to the caves in a foul mood. Another day wasted waiting for reports when I should be returning home. He hated this dark path that he had been forced to ride more times than he cared to count. The encroaching Grayan Forest that blotted out the entire world on all sides felt too suffocating. Nysa and the busy marketplace that surrounded the wall lay less than a league to the north, but one would never know it from here.
And, of course, there was the nauseating cabal at the end of it. Yes, there was always that.
He rounded the last bend and found the freckle-faced, Perrod, sitting outside on a log in front of the entrance. A moronic smile lit up his face as he pointed a finger and crafted a hover spell to lift a large rock and bounce it through the air.
A repulsed anger flared in Rayan and he had to fight the urge to kill the Mage where he sat. The abominable sorcery that burned inside the cabal was put there to revolutionize the world not to be used on some inane amusement.
“The hedonistic son returns,” Perrod commented without looking up.
Rayan bit back a sarcastic reply and slid from his horse, peeling the riding gloves from his hands. “Well?”
“The Elven King is dead.”
“Finally! Some good news for a—”
“But, Grendell died in the process.”
Rayan sucked in a surprised breath. Another Mage dead? That makes three now. He sat down next to Perrod on the log. “King Erik?”
“Dead. Merrick drowned the little rat in his bath and has returned to boast of the feat.” Perrod stood with a flourish. “When I have my own kingdom, I’ll use spells to grind every man to dust! Every woman will have to fight to the death to be the next to lie beneath me!” the Mage boasted with an obscene thrust of his hips. “No one will be able to stand against me!”
I will kill you long before that happens, my friend. How many others in the cabal felt the same as Perrod? How many of the Mages when allowed to roam free would feel it permissible to fling their sorcery in the face of all that was pure?
“Alas, we have more work to do before that happens,” Perrod admitted with regret and sat back down next to Rayan. “Until then, we celebrate the death of the Kings!”
“Celebrate?” questioned a cold voice from the cave entrance.
Zavier.
Rayan stood from the log and moved away, not wishing to have anything that menacing at his back.
“The three Kings are dead, yes,” Zavier agreed, “but the Savitars still live.”
Rayan recalled the shirtless Prince at the Earthshine Festival who managed to knock down seven men with brute muscle alone. What could he do with sorcery? Could the cabal even stop him? Whatever the answers, they were too far along to start asking those questions now.
“Enough of the skulking then!” Perrod growled out. “I say we band together and destroy them now.”
“No,” Zavier replied softly and it was all the more threatening because of it. “We need Massans to be cowed. They have just lost their Kings and now they must lose their Savitars in a defeat so profound that they will not soon recover. But, it must happen here in Nysa, the seat of power in Massa, not on some isolated back road.”
“How do we get them all here?”
“Two of the Savitars lead their armies to Nysa as we speak.”
“You expect us to just sit around and wait for them to get here?” Perrod asked in a tone that suggested how little he thought of the idea.
“No, I don’t. I’m sending members of the cabal to infiltrate their armies to weaken and provoke them. We want them ripe for war when they get here.”
Perrod chuckled.
“That leaves the Atlans. By all accounts, the Princess has left the city, but there are conflicting stories regarding the First Mage.”
“I’ll find him and take him out,” Perrod declared.
“Not yet. We need him here when the Dwarven and Elven armies arrive. Confirm his whereabouts and report back.”
Perrod gave a reluctant nod.
“Rayan, I want you to locate the royal scribe, Josef Asher. Our liege wants this man very badly. As do all of our adversaries.”
“It will be done, but first I’ll need time to see to my businesses.”
“Do it quick.”
“So, all roads lead to Nysa,” Rayan commented offhandedly.
“Yes,�
�� Zavier agreed. “All will come to a head in Nysa.”
****
The body hung from a tree, swaying in the breeze, the neck hanging at an unnatural angle. Beck held a handkerchief over his nose to block the acidic scent of death.
Scarlet Sabers worked to cut Lord Bartlett from his noose as a somber crowd looked on.
When the corpse was lowered to the ground, Beck noticed that the legs were pressed tightly together and the arms forced in close to the body. It was clear to his experienced eye that a binding spell had been used on the lord prior to his death. Mila Stowe had been right. A rogue Mage was loose in Iserlohn killing indiscriminately.
Beck regretted having to leave Nysa with the monarchy in shambles and a murderous sorcerer on the loose, he had no other choice.
He signaled to the captain of the Royal Sabers, Nic Cresson. “Where’s the King Regent?”
“At his personal estate preparing his family for a move to the palace.”
“Does he know about this?” he asked with a nod toward the bloated body.
“Everyone knows, Your Grace.”
Beck nodded grimly. “I will find this Mage, Captain, I promise you that.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Now.”
“Are you still refusing a guard, Your Grace?”
“I am. I must do this alone.”
The Saber captain slammed a fist to his chest. “It will be as you command.”
Beck moved through the crowd toward Gage’s estate. For the first time in his life, disparaging comments were directed his way—not behind covered hands, but shouted openly in anger for all to hear. It stung more than he thought it would. Like Kiernan, his adult life had been devoted to protecting the people of this land and their lack of faith in him was disheartening. Had all of his efforts and those of his family been wasted? He snorted. Perhaps the loss of the Everard reign wouldn’t be disastrous at all but a Highworld blessing in disguise.
No, not to Kiernan.
Guilt at his thoughts propelled his steps forward and he ran the rest of the way to Gage’s estate. A livered servant let him in and directed him to a formal sitting room.
An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4) Page 11
