Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  “So, I’m a warrior and a healer,” Reaylin said smugly. She nodded toward Yserria and Nanessy Threll and said, “She’s a knight, and she’s a mage. What is your function on this trip, Frisha?”

  “Reaylin, you shouldn’t be unkind,” said Yserria. “Frisha has not yet found her purpose. That does not mean she has less value. Rezkin says potential is the greatest asset, and I think Frisha has much potential.”

  “Potential for what?” said Reaylin.

  Yserria glanced at Frisha. “Well, I don’t know, but potential without direction is still potential.”

  “It’s alright,” said Frisha. “I know I’m useless—useless and stupid.” Frisha did not look up as she pushed her potatoes around her plate.

  Reaylin and Yserria exchanged glances. Yserria said, “Why do you say that?”

  “I just … I make stupid decisions. I’m not even supposed to be here. I stowed away.”

  Reaylin released a long whistle. “Oh, I bet Rezkin was livid.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Yserria nodded toward Xa who was seated at another table but still within arm’s reach. “I guess that explains your new shadow. I can’t imagine what Rezkin would do if something happened to his betrothed.”

  Frisha flushed. She had avoided talking about what had happened, mostly because the more she talked, the harder it would be to avoid their questions. Rezkin had not bothered to correct anyone when they made such comments, so she had not either. Why had he not said anything? Did he still think they would marry, or was he protecting her from the embarrassment? Perhaps it was part of some insidious plan. She did not want to be a part of the Raven’s plans.

  Frisha abruptly stood. “I need to speak with Rezkin.”

  It was only after she said it that she realized she had interrupted Mage Threll. The other women had moved on to a different discussion while she had been lost in thought. She apologized for the interruption and then staggered out of the mess. Although walking on the ship had gotten easier with time, the vessel occasionally plunged unexpectedly.

  Rezkin was in his quarters deep in discussion with Strikers Shezar and Farson when Frisha stumbled into the berth.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. She turned to leave but ran into Xa.

  “No, stay,” Rezkin said. To the strikers, he said, “Go eat. We will resume this discussion afterward.” When they had gone, he told Xa that he, too, could take a break. When the assassin looked uncertain, Rezkin smirked. “I will not kill her while you are gone.”

  Xa glanced at Frisha in warning, as if telling her to behave.

  After the door closed, Rezkin sat back in the chair behind his desk. “What do you need, Frisha?”

  She bit her lip with uncertainty, then lost her footing. Rezkin waved toward the bed, and she hesitantly perched on the edge.

  She said, “I’ve been thinking about, um, about you, I guess, and I’m terribly conflicted. When I see you, I see the Rezkin I’ve known, the one I thought to marry. Now, I don’t know if any of that was real because there are these other things—terrible things—that have happened. I didn’t see them happen, but I know they did, and you say you are responsible for them.” Her eyes were large and pleading as she looked up at him. “How can you be someone I know and a complete stranger at the same time?” He had no answer for her, but she did not seem to expect one. She said, “Are you still angry?”

  He watched her in silence for a while. Finally, he said, “I admit that I was frustrated with your lack of regard for your own life. I have dealt with those feelings and will endeavor to remain emotionally withdrawn, as I should have been all along. I apologize for my failure. I also recognize that your decisions were based on a false sense of security that I inadvertently instilled in you. The event has reaffirmed my belief that it is better for the ro to know the dangers they face. Still, I need people to continue functioning properly, so I cannot tell everyone the whole truth. It is apparent from your behavior that I may lose their trust and loyalty.”

  Frisha dropped her gaze to the floor. “I know I have made some stupid mistakes. I act on my feelings and don’t always think things through.”

  “Perhaps knowing someone else’s survival is dependent on yours will encourage you to be more responsible.”

  She glanced up at him. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t do this. I can’t be responsible for someone else’s life.”

  “His life was over when he defied me for the last time. Attaching himself to you was merely an extension, and it gives him something to do besides vex me.”

  “How can you speak so casually of life and death?”

  “I carry the responsibility of life and death for thousands, at the least. I cannot carry everyone. A drowning man is dangerous. He will drag you down with him if he can. You have to know when to let someone go.”

  “You remind me of Uncle Marcum. He says things like that.” She paused and then took a deep breath. “Um … what of our betrothal?”

  “That is entirely up to you, Frisha.” Seeing her shock, he said, “You are surprised?”

  “I didn’t think you would still be interested,” she said. “Everyone else thinks you should marry Ilanet. You are a king. She is a princess, and she was supposed to marry a prince of Ashai.”

  Rezkin shook his head. “I have no intention of marrying anytime soon. I will likely die before that day. The only reason I had considered it was to keep you with me. If you do not marry me, then there is no point in marrying at all.”

  Frisha’s eyes welled with tears. “When you say things like that, my heart listens. It is terribly romantic, but now I wonder if you mean it at all.”

  Rezkin frowned. “I assure you that I have met no other woman I would consider marrying. It is not a priority. I will be satisfied to go through life without a spouse, if it would not be you.”

  “Do you love me?”

  Rezkin stood from his seat and came around to kneel before her. He took her hands and met her gaze. “I have spoken with Farson. I know what you want to hear, but I must honor you with the truth. I will do everything in my power to make you safe and happy. I will give you a kingdom—I will give you every kingdom, if it is your wish. But, if love is what you desire, then it cannot be me.”

  Frisha looked longingly into his crystal gaze and then shook her head, her expression pained. “I’m sorry, Rez. I know you’re doing what’s necessary for the kingdom. I can’t understand it all, and I really don’t want to, but”—she took a deep breath—“I support you. You will always have my loyalty.”

  “But not your hand?”

  She stared at their entwined fingers. It was rare that he touched her so intimately. “Tam says I’m a hopeless romantic, but I had resolved myself to the fact that I would never have true love. I thought I would marry a stranger who would only want me for my uncle’s fortune. Then, I met you, and I had hope. I thought you really cared. A girl dreams of being swept away by a knight in shining armor, not a shadow knight of death. More importantly, she dreams that her knight loves her. I trust that you won’t allow me to marry someone I don’t want. If I am to be given a choice, I want to marry someone who loves me.”

  Rezkin lifted her chin and caught her gaze. “Is marriage your dream, Frisha?”

  “I—I don’t know. I didn’t think I had a choice.”

  “You will not marry until you are ready. I will make sure of it. If becoming a wife and mother is your dream, there is nothing wrong with that. It is a position deserving of respect, equal to any warrior, healer, or mage; but, perhaps you should spend less time thinking of husbands and more time thinking of who you want to be.”

  An abrupt pounding on the door woke them from the depth of conversation, and Malcius strode into the room unbidden. “I heard you two were in here alone. Look, Rez, I know you are as good as betrothed, but I am supposed to be her escort. I am responsible for making sure she retains her virtue.”

  Rezkin rose to hi
s feet and went back to the seat at his desk. “You are correct, Malcius, and it is especially important now that we have agreed to call off the betrothal.”

  “What?” Malcius said in alarm. “No! I mean, you two are supposed to get married. Frisha, tell me he is joking.”

  Frisha shook her head and chuckled as she wiped watery eyes. “I don’t think Rez makes jokes.”

  Malcius’s face reddened, and he turned on Rezkin. “Did you reject her? Suddenly you have other prospects, and she is not good enough?”

  “No, Malcius!” said Frisha. “It was my decision.”

  Malcius turned his ire on her. “What is wrong with you? Are you mad? He is king! He is a legitimate prince of Ashai.”

  Rezkin clenched his teeth through the tightness in his chest. It was threatening to restrict his breathing, and he would have thought something seriously wrong if he had not already felt similar pain in the past. He now knew it was the pain of loss. It was stronger this time, and he wondered if it was due to the amount of time he had spent in the outworld. Perhaps he was losing his ability to distance himself from his feelings. He needed time to meditate. The stone on his chest heated as his pain grew, and Rezkin focused on the burning discomfort to take his mind from it.

  “Malcius, calm yourself,” Rezkin said. “It has been agreed that I cannot give Frisha what she desires most, what she deserves. You are aware, at least in part, of my upbringing. I am not fit to be her husband. As with all of you, I will ensure that she has all that she needs until my support is no longer necessary.”

  Malcius shook his head and looked at Frisha. “Who do you intend to marry, then?”

  Frisha balled her fists and pushed to her feet, her show of strength slightly marred as she stumbled with the roll of the ship. She righted herself and lifted her chin. “I am not going to marry anyone.”

  “But your father and Uncle Marcum—”

  “Are not here,” she said, crossing her arms.

  “Then, what are you going to do?” Malcius said with genuine concern.

  “Well, I’m … I’m going to do … something.” With feigned confidence she said, “I haven’t decided yet, but it will be great.”

  Xa entered the room just then and smirked at Frisha’s attempt to stand up for herself.

  Malcius nodded toward the Jeng’ri and asked Rezkin, “Why do you keep assigning him to watch the ladies? Is he a eunuch?”

  The assassin’s grin fell, and he drew a blade.

  Rezkin sighed. “No, he is not a eunuch. At least, not as far as I know. He will protect Frisha, though. Now, all of you out. We will soon arrive, and I do not wish to be disturbed until we do.”

  Rezkin barred the door and placed several traps around the room. He ate the food he had prepared earlier to fill his grumbling stomach, yet he was still unsatisfied. He then lay back on his bed to meditate and promptly fell asleep. For the first time in a long while, he dreamt.

  The light of the day waned, and he stared into the darkness between the trees. The fire’s heat seeped into his skin, driving out the chill. An owl hooted, and branches creaked as the wind swept through the pass. He heard a woman’s voice, a whisper in the otherwise unbroken melody of the natural world, but he could not understand her words. He turned. He saw her clearly. He knew he had, but a glimpse was all he could remember. A glimpse of silver eyes and hair as white as snow.

  Rezkin awoke to shouts announcing their arrival at port, and he realized he must have been asleep for several hours. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and shook his head to chase away the grogginess. Alarmed that he had been so vulnerable in his unexpectedly deep sleep, he surveyed the room from his bed but found no evidence of an intruder. He sat up, and when he lifted his eyes, his heart immediately burst into a gallop as he saw two orange orbs staring at him from across the room. The wood-like creature had taken on the rough form of a table, a table with a face looking out from its columnar pedestal.

  He exhaled in a rush. “Bilior, what do you want?”

  The table twisted and snapped as the katerghen took its usual form. It stood awkwardly with one arm out to the side and its head tilted at an angle. Its leaves rattled, and the sound of rain, for once, was not coming from outside.

  “Power dances on the wind,” the katerghen said. “They come.”

  The katerghen popped and crackled then bounded through the porthole, stretching and twisting to effortlessly fit. Rezkin watched after him, noting that they were already tied to the floating dock, and the fae creature disappeared. Once he had finally cleared his mind of his muddled thoughts, Rezkin left his cabin. He had no idea what the katerghen was trying to tell him, but it sounded ominous. Without more information, it was pointless to speculate. He put the matter aside.

  The ride to the sanctorum of the Adana’Ro should not have been a long one. The process of arriving, however, had become daunting. Since they needed to acquire more horses anyway, Rezkin had planned on purchasing some in Esk. It was unexpected that none of the horse traders were willing to sell. No matter their method of approach, somehow the traders always saw through their subterfuge. The road was fairly well traveled, and no word of trouble had reached their ears before the onset of their journey. After being attacked by bandits twice in the first hour of their jaunt, however, it became obvious they were being targeted. What would have been a few hours’ ride by road turned into nearly a day’s hike across wild terrain.

  “I do not like this,” said Farson.

  “Nor do I,” replied Rezkin, “but it was unavoidable that they would know we were coming.”

  “They have not attacked,” Shezar observed.

  “They have been slowing us down,” Farson said. “Do you think they planned this from the beginning?”

  “They stole the sword long before I had designs for Cael or dealings with Gendishen. It may be that someone whispered in Privoth’s ear the suggestion to have me retrieve it, though.”

  “Privoth is shrewd enough to invest in that idea on his own,” said Farson.

  Malcius sidled up beside them. “I still do not understand why the Adana’Ro would be interested in you.”

  “The Adana’Ro are mysterious,” Rezkin said.

  Malcius huffed. “That is not an answer.”

  Yserria wedged herself between Malcius and Rezkin and said, “The king does not answer to you, Malcius Jebai.”

  Malcius said, “You may be a knight now, but I still outrank you. You will treat me with respect.”

  Yserria grinned sweetly and said, “When you say something worthy of respect, I shall oblige.”

  Malcius looked to Rezkin. “Why do you put up with her?”

  “If you find her remarks offensive, Malcius, perhaps you should do something about it.”

  “But … she is a swordmaster!”

  “Yes, and you are not. Her strength is earned, while yours is dependent on the diluted power of your forefathers. Knight Yserria is not a conniving woman. I would not have granted her the title if she were. Find a way to earn her respect.”

  Yserria grinned as Malcius fumed and then dropped back to walk beside Reaylin and Nanessy.

  “You always take her side,” Malcius muttered.

  “We are all on the same side,” Rezkin said as he studied the cliff face looming in the distance.

  The sanctorum was located high upon a cliff that overlooked the River Rhen. The river’s banks were dotted with scraggly bushes and the occasional twisted, scruffy tree. Patches of greenery grew where the water splashed off rocks, but the landscape was otherwise speckled with rocks and a variety of cactuses. The river flowed between high cliffs that appeared painted in varying shades of gold and red, and the road they had intended to take ran across the high ground. It would have taken a phenomenal archer and a generous amount of luck to target them so far below; but, from that vantage, it would be easy to track their progress and signal ahead for an ambush. Therefore, it was not surprising when they were suddenly surrounded by masked assailants.

  We
sson and Nanessy immediately encapsulated the travelers in a glowing ward of their combined powers, intentionally rendering visible to all. It crackled with warnings in livid red runes scored across the swirling blue surface. An attempt to breach the ward would mean a messy death.

  The assailants were mostly women, each dressed in black and covered from head to foot. All that showed from beneath their skin-tight coverings were their eyes, but the weapons they carried were obvious. Swords, knives, and bows abounded, while mage power buzzed in strength from a few. Thirteen were visible, which meant there were probably at least three more unseen. One stood out among them. She wore a head scarf of scarlet red, and her eyes danced with mirth as she met Rezkin’s gaze.

  “We meet again,” said the secrelé in heavily accented Ashaiian.

  Rezkin recognized her as the woman who had led the cueret at the Black Hall. “Do’grelah, Secrelé,” he said in formal greeting. He switched to Ferélli, having already confirmed that none of his companions spoke the language. “My companions are ro. You will not harm them.”

  After a quick perusal of the others, the secrelé said, “Perhaps some of them are ro, but they dance along the fire line.”

  “Only because they are in my company.”

  “Then it is you who are responsible for their fall.”

  “Only if you push them,” he countered.

  Her eyes narrowed as if she smirked beneath the mask. “Why did you bring them?”

  “To them I am king. They believe I need them.”

  “Do you?”

  Rezkin shrugged. “A king without vassals is a king in name only, and I have no need of titles.”

  At this, she chuckled. “And yet you have acquired many.”