Broken Lords: Book Two of the Broken Mirrors Duology

by A. F. Dery

  “But the High Lord’s security-”

  “Is irrelevant when you bring your own foreigner in their midst. Killing you may kill me, but who here knows that? Who has been told that we have bonded?” Kesara’s voice was low and quick, but he caught it, and he stared at her.

  “No one,” he said finally. “I’ve not even had the chance to tell the High Lord.”

  She smiled so suddenly it startled him. “Of course you haven’t. And when you have, this will be irrelevant, but now, no one knows, and it matters. You are most wise to think so, my lord.” And before he could frown at those last words, he saw that Jarel was walking up to them, his Lady on his arm.

  “Eladria,” Jarel said, almost warily, as he gave a curt nod of his head in Thane’s direction. “Mistress Jonril,” he addressed Kesara, his tone far more polite. “I wanted to introduce you to my wife, Olive. She wasn’t present when you were introduced, Mistress.”

  “I am honored, my lady,” Kesara murmured politely, curtsying. Lady Jarel flushed with pleasure.

  “How well mannered you are! Coming from Eladria, I half feared to meet you, Mistress, but I’m pleased Hank talked me into it just now,” she said.

  “Such ideas are a shameful misunderstanding, my lady,” Kesara said sadly, casting down her eyes. “Sometimes caution can easily be misread as a coldness which is not intended. But it is Eladrian caution which has saved my life. With my lord’s permission, I would tell you about it sometime, my lady. I am most grateful to Eladria…and caution.”

  “Really?” Lady Jarel looked as astonished as Thane felt. “That sounds most intriguing.” And she actually cast a hopeful look at Thane, like a child pleading for a sweet. He hardly knew how to respond to that, so far outside of his own experience it was.

  “Another time, perhaps,” he said carefully. “I am sure there are others hoping to meet you, Kes.”

  Oh, and were there ever. The rest of the hour passed with excruciating slowness as nobles drifted over, their curiosity about the Mirror getting the better of them. None of them were quite as rude as Lady Kitarin had been, and somehow Kesara seemed to charm them with her curtsies and murmurs, her downcast eyes and polite, false smiles. He hardly felt that he even recognized this creature, who looked like she could actually belong here, in a setting like this, surrounded by people like these. She behaved irreproachably, and seemed to know exactly what to say to everything addressed to her. Kitarin had said Kesara did not appear to be much of a prize, and yet in her gestures, her manner, she seemed to Thane the loveliest woman present. And he knew it could not be him alone, for the men, and a couple of the women, began to stand a little too close to her for propriety and Thane was forced to remind them of his presence with a cleared throat and a black stare.

  And somehow it seemed to happen, in a softly spoken comment here, a grateful glance in his direction there, that it almost looked like Eladria was some fine civilization to which this graceful woman was pleased to be welcomed in. Surely the apparent rudeness of the past was all misunderstanding and phantom. She was a foreigner, after all, and if she could come away with such an opinion, perhaps errors in judgment, however understandable, had been made. It was indeed doubt Kesara was sowing, but somehow, in that strange hour, it seemed an almost plausible doubt even to Thane, who knew better down to the marrow of his bones.

  He found himself watching her like he would watch a strange animal, cautious in case she would turn and bite, barely recognizing the courteous mask her face was set in or the distance in her blue eyes. He heard her speak, but it was a stranger’s voice she spoke with, strange words she uttered in the language of Court, a language he had never cared to learn. Not once did she meet his eyes, though she demurred to him constantly, seemingly preoccupied by those around her who sought her attention, but the bond betrayed her there, for he felt a stab of something he couldn’t name from it every time he moved away or looked somewhere else. He knew in that surreal refrere’s way of knowing-without-knowing that she was very aware of him, and he didn’t know how to take that. Thane felt a sudden longing to spirit her away from these people, to make her be herself again, somehow. He missed the Kesara he knew with a fierce ache in his chest that almost brought tears to his eyes, the only pain he could feel now that he had bonded with her and yet somehow more intense than any wound he had ever carried. It took every ounce of his restraint to keep himself composed, his features schooled to stillness, his feet rooted to the spot on the floor near her and his gaze casual and circumspect.

  I must make this right, he thought to himself for the hundredth time. I must find a way. I don’t know what’s happening, to me, to her, but I can’t bear it.

  At last, the hour had passed, the High Lord appeared and greeted his guests as a group, and they made their way into the formal dining hall, which was everything Thane’s was not: spacious, brightly lit, ornate, and somehow, despite the dazzling array of crystal and silver, warm and welcoming.

  Thane felt foreboding pass over him at the sight of the trays and platters heaped with local delicacies as well as those representative of the countries now gathered, but he sucked in a deep breath and waited to be shown to his seat, which turned out to still be at the High Lord’s right hand. It gratified him that Malachi was to be seated much further down the table, and he felt an odd sense of relief mingled with delight that Kesara was seated beside him, where his Lady would have sat if he’d had one.

  Of course, the High Lord will no doubt wish to converse with her, so where better to place her? Thane reminded himself. If she was ever invited to dine with them again, she would probably be placed much further down the table, possibly out of his view entirely. Still, it was a comfort to have her there next to him, even if it was a stranger-Kesara sitting there. She finally met his eyes for a moment when he drew out her chair for her, and the torment in them made his hand tremble on the back of the chair, recognition of that torment and the woman bearing it striking him sharply.

  I could grab her now and run. Who would even be surprised? he thought desperately, but then she looked away and sat down, and the moment passed.

  He sighed and sat down. The chair was only just large enough to accommodate him, if he sat carefully, and his leg brushed against Kesara’s unintentionally as he tried to adjust himself accordingly.

  He was startled by a hand pressing near his knee when he tried to move away, and he glanced quickly down at her, but she was apparently already engaged in conversation with Lord Jarel to her other side, and showed no sign of even noticing him. No other hand could be reaching him, though, so he thought it must be some silent permission she was offering to continue invading her table space.

  As uncomfortable as that was, it was nowhere near the discomfort of trying to keep himself properly contained in a space that was somewhat too small for such containment for an extended period of time, and uncomfortable for entirely different reasons, so he relaxed his leg and the pressure disappeared, again with no sign or outward acknowledgment on Kesara’s part.

  He wasn’t sure it was even possible for this night to get any longer, yet undoubtedly, it was trying to.

  The servants came around with pitchers, filling glasses and goblets. He accepted only water and a goblet of wine, for appearance’s sake- he had not drunk the ale that Kesara had tasted, and would not drink anything else he accepted, either, if he could help it.

  The High Lord signaled to the servants to pause once the glasses were filled and rose to his feet at the head of the table.

  “I am most pleased that so many have arrived so quickly,” the High Lord said, beaming with warmth. “Lords and Ladies, I am honored to be graced with your presence at this convening. Exciting times are upon us, times of change and growth. I look forward so much to meeting with each of you and all of you. I think you will agree, by the end of our time together, that this will be a truly momentous and historical occasion for all of us.” There was a low murmur of surprise and curiosity sweeping through the table, but the High Lord conti
nued, “For now, let us break bread together and celebrate our unity, our bonds in each other’s service.” He held up his goblet. “To unity, fealty, victory!”

  The nobles at table echoed the refrain, lifting their own goblets, and following his lead, all drank, except Thane, who merely brought the cup to touch his disfigured mouth and set it back down again with a dry swallow. The High Lord seated himself again and signaled to the servants again, and they commenced with the serving of the food.

  Historical occasion, is it? It seemed there would be more going on than merely Thane’s conflict with Malachi and the usual business matters of a conclave. It would be historical to see Malachi out of the Union on his ass, Thane reflected, but he found himself surprised at the lack of pleasure he had in the thought. No, that wouldn’t make him happy. His gaze flickered down the table, falling briefly on Lady Malachi. She carried a child, and what would be left to that child if its father was severed from the Union? The man himself ought to be punished for his betrayal, certainly, the proper forms must be observed, but it did not please Thane to think of a woman and child being punished for the sins of a lord who had clearly lost his mind.

  And the Mirror, too, he reminded himself. The Lady’s Mirror would also be out in the cold, and it certainly seemed unfair when it was clear that woman was paying her dues. He saw her seated across from Lady Malachi, looking slightly green-tinged about the face, like she was about to be ill.

  That would certainly liven up the evening, Thane thought dryly, hoping against hope that the ailing Mirror would aim in Kitarin’s direction.

  He accepted some small portions of dishes that looked like they could be easily swallowed if he had to do it. He had already begun the tedious work of moving them from one side of his plate to another in delicate little bits when the High Lord’s voice broke through his preoccupation.

  “Mistress Jonril is a credit to you, Thane. I’ve already heard glowing words about her from Lord Jarel within minutes of my arrival, and he is not easily impressed by women,” the High Lord said, with a slight, dry emphasis on women. Jarel’s true proclivities were well known in the Court and Thane didn’t react except to incline his head in acknowledgment.

  “She is indeed…gifted,” Thane said at last, when it became clear the High Lord was expecting something more. The High Lord smiled at this.

  “Your country could use such gifts as those of the social variety, Thane. It is well enough that the Union holds us all together, but forming good relations of your own accord would be of great benefit to you and your people,” the High Lord said confidingly, his tone almost paternal. “Still, it seems to me you are uncomfortable with such an idea.”

  “I am not unaware of its merits, my lord, or of…Kesara’s,” Thane said, nearly stumbling on her name and catching himself just in time. He could not bring himself to refer to her formally, however strange she seemed to him tonight. “It is only that such…tactics…are not the Eladrian way.”

  “No,” the High Lord agreed. “I can see that. However, it would be a shameful waste not to utilize her talents. There is much I could make of them, if you are not interested in doing so yourself. You would be fairly compensated, of course. It is something to think about.”

  Thane realized he was staring at the High Lord now, his mouth nearly agape, and he quickly composed himself and looked down at his plate. He is offering for her like she is no more than a beast of burden, he thought furiously, trying to tamp down the anger rising in him. No, no, be calm, Thane. He only means that she is useful and thinks you do not want her. He is trying to be helpful, and of course, it would be a boon to him to acquire so useful a servant as Kesara is. He has said himself that she is a prize.

  But he still felt anger and struggled to control it, to keep his voice perfectly calm as he redirected his gaze to an expectant High Lord. “I thank you for your offer, my lord, but I value her very much as she is.”

  “I understand that, Thane,” the High Lord said, and his hazel eyes were curious, leaning slightly forward now as he regarded Thane with sudden, intense interest. “She is quite a prize and I can hardly blame you for not wishing to see her off to another country. Yet just the same, you must be aware that she will not, shall we say, last indefinitely if left…unused.”

  He refers to her bonding, Thane thought, with relief. If he knows about bonding already, that makes things so much simpler. He cannot take offense at my refusal when clearly I am not able to accept.

  “I am aware, my lord,” Thane said simply. “And it is no longer a concern.”

  The High Lord became very still, lifting an eyebrow. Thane couldn’t read the look in his eyes. “Indeed?”

  “You are surprised?” Thane ventured, feeling a sudden sense of caution.

  “Well, yes, to be honest. I did not think you would be amenable to such an arrangement. I know how you value your solitude, and how your countrymen view foreigners. And she wears no bracelet.” The High Lord settled back in his seat, looking thoughtful now. Thane was wondering what the hell a bracelet had to do with anything. “However, it was most wise to claim her when you did. Yes, indeed, most wise. She belongs to you irrevocably now. And what you have gained, we have all gained.” His eyes went to Kesara, who had gone quiet beside Thane. “Forgive me please for speaking of you like you aren’t present, Mistress Jonril. You seemed otherwise engaged and I have been most impressed with what I’ve heard of you. Not only from the other members of Court, you understand.”

  “No, my lord?” Kesara said, sounding a little surprised.

  “Oh, no. I had the opportunity to speak earlier today with your, ah, sister, Elsbeth. Apparently you both went to the same school and she seems quite in awe of you.”

  “That is kind of her,” Kesara murmured.

  “She said you specialized in combat operations. Do I take that to mean you were present at battlefields, Mistress Jonril?”

  “Yes, my lord, and other places. Most of my training was with the surgeries at various sites of conflict, whether due to battle or uprising.” Thane could tell she was choosing her words with care, but he wasn’t certain what it was she was exactly that she did not want to come out and say. It troubled him.

  “Ytar sounds like a place of much turmoil,” the High Lord was saying.

  “She has her growing pains, like any angry child on the brink of adulthood, my lord,” Kesara answered mildly.

  The High Lord chuckled. “That is a fine analogy, Mistress Jonril. Eladria must seem a dull place to you, so peaceful they have been these past years.”

  “Oh, I have not been bored, my lord. Learning the customs of a new place is fascinating.”

  “I am sure, but it is not what you are for, is it?” the High Lord smiled at her, showing perfect white teeth. “But never fear. I am sure Eladria will find plenty to occupy you when the time is ripe.”

  “I am at Lord Eladria’s service, for as long as I live,” Kesara replied, pressing a fist to her chest. There was an odd glint in her blue eyes now, and from the bond, Thane felt the inner darkness grow. His hand tightened on his idle fork, a new understanding teasing at the edges of his mind but not quite materializing into thought.

  The High Lord looked at her for a long, silent moment, appearing to consider this with great thought, then returned his attention to Thane. “A prize, Thane,” he repeated. “And she could not be more timely. But we will speak more of that later. Please, enjoy your meal.”

  Thane gave a polite nod and dutifully returned to rearranging the morsels on his plate with his fork. But his thoughts were racing, trying to grasp at whatever-it-was he thought he could sense from her before.

  But apparently, she had already moved on, for the bond was silent once more and she had returned her attention to the rest of the table, politely acknowledging something that Lord Fayril had just remarked that Thane had not caught.

  As the evening wore on, however, she grew quieter, until at last, she murmured to Thane, while looking down at her plate, “I was all prepared
to be insulted that she has not approached me, but I don’t think she even knows I’m here. She can’t handle it all for much longer.”

  At first, he wasn’t sure what she was speaking of, then he saw her glance in the other Mirror’s direction. Elsbeth did indeed look like she was about to drop, and appeared to have given up even the pretense of eating or drinking or being mentally present, for that matter. Her eyes were glassy and staring from beneath heavy, purplish lids.

  “What will happen when she stops…being able to handle it?” Thane asked her, equally quietly.

  “A bond can only do so much. She will continue to take on whatever her capability is, even should she lose consciousness- and she will- but anything over that reverts to the refrere,” Kesara answered. “Pain isn’t easily quantified, however. It’s hard to say what it will be like for Lady Malachi. The experience should still be blunted, as it were.”

  “It must be getting worse if she is looking worse and worse, isn’t that how it is?” Thane studied Kesara’s profile. He wished she would look at him.

  “Generally speaking,” Kesara said. “Appearances can be deceiving, but I don’t they are in this case.”

  “You told me before you outrank her, as far as Mirrors go,” Thane pitched his voice quieter still, and was strangely pleased when she leaned a little towards him as she listened. He glanced at the High Lord and saw him absorbed in conversation with Lord and Lady Fayril, and added quickly, “Just how far, Kes?”

  Kesara shook her head a little and whispered, “Elsbeth is not very highly skilled. She did far better for herself over here than she would have done back in Ytar: Mirrors of her talent are usually given away as bargaining tools or bribes to minor houses. You know, barons, the occasional baronet.”

  “That must be how he ended up with her, and why he was so willing to part with her,” Thane muttered, referring to the High Lord. Kesara seemed to understand, glancing in the High Lord’s direction surreptitiously before reaching for her goblet.