King’s Wrath

by Fiona McIntosh

  Her amusement increased. “You’re the only lover I know.”

  “We shall be keeping it that way,” he said. Then he lowered his head to kiss her tenderly again. “I am entirely yours now . . . body, mind, soul,” he added, his arch tone gone.

  “Kilt, I can hear your heartbeat,” she whispered, wondering if his pain was over.

  “And I can feel you, without having to touch you, although touching you is a very special bonus to this whole aegis arrangement.”

  She grinned again, feeling like a loon. “I’m not using any healing power. Has the pain stopped?”

  He nodded. “Gone.”

  Evie hugged him. “Suddenly coming here doesn’t feel so bad.”

  “I hate to spoil our tender moment,” he said reluctantly. “We should be languishing in a tangle of naked limbs instead of partly dressed and in quite such a hurry, but I think we do need to get back.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she replied, hurrying to straighten her clothes. “All these fasteners,” she complained and then looked at him, imagining how to explain buttons, let alone zips. And then she let it go; easily, let everything about her former life go. Suddenly all that mattered was Kilt; she didn’t care at all about being Valisar or claiming thrones or righting the way this world should be. She was in love, she realized, and she felt deep within herself a private glow at finally giving up something she had always thought precious and had begun to wonder whether she would ever relinquish.

  “I should tell you I think we were seen,” Kilt admitted sheepishly.

  “Who?” she said, spinning around. “Corbel?”

  “No, another fellow. He doesn’t realize I glimpsed him.” He shrugged. “Habit,” he admitted, “ever cautious. Anyway, it wasn’t de Vis but neither was it my friend, Jewd.”

  “Barro probably,” she said. “He’s traveling with us. How much did he see?”

  “Only us disappearing into the orchard.”

  “Then he can’t tell Corbel anything.”

  “But we must,” he warned. “He deserves that much.”

  “I plan to, but, Kilt, after what you’ve said about Corbel, can you let me tell him, please?”

  He nodded. “It’s not something I relish telling any man, so go ahead. But it has to be done immediately.”

  She nodded. “How do you feel?” she asked, unable to help the doctor in her.

  “I don’t think any aegis could ever feel as fortunate as I do.”

  She nodded gravely. “Me too; I feel very lucky. I’m so glad Loethar didn’t get you.”

  “Indeed. He doesn’t have such great tits!”

  Princess Genevieve’s delighted laughter filled the orchard.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  They arrived back into the convent, holding hands, to find everyone waiting for them. The atmosphere felt tense.

  Corbel had been sitting with Jewd, away from the other pair of Barro and the Mother, who were talking quietly. Corbel and Jewd appeared silent, deep in their respective thoughts.

  She sighed as they approached. “Corbel must know.”

  “If Barro’s any sort of friend he would have told him some of it.”

  “And your companion looks rather grave too.”

  “Mmm yes, don’t be fooled. I’m in as much trouble as you.”

  They shared a sympathetic smile. “Marry me, Genevieve,” he said on impulse. He gave a soft shrug. “We might as well make it official and really get their tempers warmed.”

  She nodded. “All right. I’ve never done anything spontaneous and certainly nothing reckless. I’ve also never felt like this before . . . so aware of my own life’s fragility. So yes, why not marriage to a man I met hours ago? I’m up for it.”

  As a group, the others noticed them. Everyone shifted but it was Jewd who was upon them first, Corbel hanging back.

  “Kilt, what the f—”

  “Jewd, I’d like you to meet Princess Genevieve. I doubt you were properly introduced.”

  Jewd caught himself, but with a scowl dark enough to sour milk aimed at Kilt, he bowed. “Princess,” he said.

  “Hello, Jewd. You don’t look very happy to meet me.”

  Kilt made a tutting sound. “Don’t be fooled. This is Jewd’s normal look of rapture, isn’t it?” he said, scowling straight back. “Manners, old friend.”

  “What the hell’s been going on?”

  “Well, the princess and I have been getting more closely acquainted.” He threw her a look but while she refused to look at Kilt, she blinked, embarrassed, at Jewd.

  Jewd ignored her and stared at Kilt as though his friend had turned loopy. “You had me bound and tied to a wall!”

  “Yes.” He nodded seriously. “Yes, I did. And I’m sorry about it and we will discuss it and I will make amends but for now you should perhaps be happy to see that the princess is not trying to gnaw my leg off and that I am not writhing on the ground or screaming to get away from her.”

  Jewd seemed to realize this fact only now. His mouth opened in shock. “You let her do it to you?”

  Kilt nodded. “I did. I let her do it to me twice in fact,” he said, feeling like a naughty youth, and felt his new love pinch him surreptitiously but hard.

  Jewd scanned him briefly, not understanding. “Where is the wound?”

  The others had drawn closer but Corbel still hung back and Kilt decided it was time to be less flippant.

  He made his voice serious. “Listen . . . all of you. Genevieve and I talked for a very long time, as you probably know because you’ve all been waiting for us to reach some sort of resolution . . . and we did. As you’ve witnessed, I’m helpless in her presence and the fact is she is helpless without mine.” He looked around and Barro and the Mother nodded; Jewd just stared at him in a mix of disbelief and anger, while Corbel seemed to seethe in the background. He took a breath; it was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. “I am prepared to throw my lot in with hers.” He looked at Jewd as he said this. “We had to support one of them, Jewd. And it could no longer be Leo.”

  “Why any of them?” the big man demanded.

  “You know why and I know you haven’t changed your loyalties to Penraven or the greater Set. Besides, she’s blameless, she’s innocent, and she’s helpless.”

  “So you trammeled him,” Jewd accused her, “just like that?”

  “Not without his permission I didn’t,” Evie qualified, an edge to her tone.

  “Jewd. It was my decision. Genevieve did not ask me for it. In fact—and I don’t care if you don’t believe this—she made it possible for me to escape.”

  Corbel looked up sharply, as if stung. “What do you mean?”

  Kilt shrugged. “Your Evie is too clever by half, de Vis. She used her healing magic to give me enough relief to recover, more than sufficient for me to make a run for it. I should add that she also gave her word that she would not look for me.”

  “Then why—?” Corbel began.

  “Because as you are, de Vis, I too am loyal to Valisar and it was the cowardly way out.”

  “It had nothing to do with the fact that you both seem so easy with each other then?” Barro said.

  Kilt’s gaze slid to the other big man. “Oh, she is very easy on the eye.”

  “You bastard!” Corbel said, advancing.

  “No!” Evie said, putting a hand up to stop him.

  “Not in this place, you won’t, Corbel de Vis,” the Mother said. “There has been enough blood spilled today.”

  Kilt watched the man’s face cloud, his jaw working overtime to keep his anger in check.

  “I think you need to speak with the princess alone, de Vis. And by the way, noble or not, if you ever raise your hand against me again, it will be the last time you raise it against anyone.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Kilt Faris. You’re a lowlife outlaw.”

  “This is true. Strange though that the lowlife outlaw is the one the Valisar king ran to when he needed to protect his crown prince. And her
e is that same lowlife outlaw now giving his life to protect that same king’s rather amazing daughter.” He sighed. “Now, de Vis, hear out your princess. Jewd and I need to talk. Mother, please forgive us all this trespass on your convent, your time, and your patience. All will be explained.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said dryly.

  Corbel found it hard to even look at her. He sat on a wide windowsill, his arms crossed, a sense of dread in his heart.

  “Won’t you even look at me?” she tried, and he could hear the hesitation in her voice.

  Angry and unsure of what had occurred between her and Faris, he reluctantly raised his gaze to meet hers.

  “Thank you,” she said. “What’s happened between us, Reg?”

  “I do prefer Corbel.”

  “And I preferred my Reg.”

  “Your Reg? Really? More like your Kilt.”

  She blinked with irritation. “You know, for someone who has put me into this situation—bullied me into it—you’re playing the victim rather well.”

  He ignored her barb. “I want to know how it comes about that not only can he now stand to be next to you, but two perfect strangers have become such close allies.”

  She nodded. “You certainly deserve an explanation. You’ve heard most of it from Kilt. I used my new-found healing powers to rid him of his weakness and pain long enough for him to get away. He stupidly refused to take the option, based on some misplaced sense of loyalty to King Brennus or the Valisars . . . or perhaps it’s just that he’s loyal to his land. Whatever it is, he wouldn’t go. But he did suggest a way that I could consume him without a need for maiming, or even any sort of injury or agony.”

  Corbel sighed. “You’re hedging, Evie. You’re usually far more direct than this.”

  “Well I always thought you were too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She advanced on him, pointing a finger. “We were the closest of friends, you and I. I’ve shared everything with you. But you were full of dark corners, shadows and shades of gray. How dare you accuse me of hedging!”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She pursed her lips and then pushed him, both hands flat against his chest. “Ooh, Reg, you’re such a—”

  He grabbed her hands but there was only tenderness in the way he held them there against his body. She looked up at him, clearly stunned, swallowing hard. Looking deep into her eyes, he lifted her hands and kissed them gently before he placed them either side of his face with a sigh. “I so prefer it if you’d think of me as Corbel.”

  “Corbel . . .” He saw tears well, almost spilling over down her cheeks.

  “Is it such a surprise, Evie?”

  She searched his face. A heavy tear slipped off a lash, down her cheek as she nodded. “You are my best friend, my conscience, and my rock. I’m sorry that I never guessed.”

  He felt sorrow strike him deep in his heart. “I was in love with you when you were a newborn and it just got worse, changing from adoration as a guardian to the adoration of a lover as you grew and turned into a woman. I hated not being able to tell you the truth of our shared background but truly, Evie, there was no point; I couldn’t be sure we’d ever return and frankly after twenty years could you blame me?”

  “No,” she said, her lips trembling as she cried.

  “And how do I tell the young medical student I’ve watched grow from a distance, whom I’ve had to contrive to meet and befriend very carefully, very slowly over years . . . how do I tell her that I’m really Corbel de Vis and that I love her with all of my heart—that I always have, that I always will? Tell me how you would have reacted.”

  “Oh, Corbel,” she said and broke down, hugging him close and allowing him to hold her. “I’m so sorry.”

  He kissed the top of her head, loving the feel of her close against his body even has he was convinced that he could hear the sound of his heart breaking. She would never be his . . . not in the way he’d always dreamed. The Qirin’s words echoed in his mind.

  “So am I,” he said softly.

  She hugged him closer still, her weeping deepening and as he wrapped his arms fully around her small frame and laid his head against hers, he realized how his Evie had trammeled Kilt Faris without bloodshed. Barro had said they’d disappeared into the orchard, she following willingly, but he hadn’t connected everything in his mind until this moment.

  “You slept with him?” he murmured, astonished, agony ripping through him.

  She nodded against his chest, hiccupping through her tears. “It was the only way I’d agree to bond him to me.”

  “This was your idea?”

  “No, his,” she mumbled, sniffing and getting control of her emotions. She sniffed again. “He wanted to be trammeled.”

  “I’ll bet he did,” Corbel said angrily, a vision of Kilt Faris rolling in the grass with Evie claiming his mind’s eye.

  “No, wait, Corbel. You’re missing something,” she said, sniffing hard and sighing. “I have to explain this properly.”

  “What’s to explain? This is rape! I’ll kill him!”

  She shook her head wearily. “This was . . . well, it’s hard for me to say this to you now.”

  He returned her gaze with confusion. “Say what?”

  She appeared to find the courage after an awkward pause. “That I love him. That I wanted to be with him in this way.”

  Corbel repeated the words silently, testing that I love him on his tongue as though the phrase made no sense.

  His voice was tight and strained when he finally was able to speak. “You don’t know the first thing about him! You’ve just met him.”

  “That’s the whole thing, though. I know everything about him. I can feel him right now, Corbel; I can feel his heartbeat. I can feel his presence as though he’s standing right next to me, in me.”

  “In you . . .” he repeated in an angry whisper.

  “We talked first. He told me so much about himself that he had revealed to no one before. And I did much the same for him.”

  “I’ve obviously flattered myself that I was that person with whom you shared your deepest thoughts.”

  She nodded. “It’s true, there is nothing I told him that you don’t already know, other than perhaps how much I love you.” He had been looking out of the window but now his gaze snapped back to hers. “As a brother, though,” she added.

  Corbel felt his insides do a flip and thought he might be sick. He pushed her away.

  “Please, Corbel.”

  “No, don’t say any more. You’ve been clear and I will say in your defense that I have been far from clear in my affections for you. You are a young woman with all the yearnings of youth. Lo knows I’ve suffered them long enough in my loneliness.”

  “Corbel.” She reached for him but he stepped aside.

  “It’s only natural that you would respond to the advances of an older, more worldly man who—”

  “Don’t,” she warned.

  He stared at her, his breathing feeling labored but mercifully silent.

  “Don’t presume to know how I should feel. I’m so sorry that I can’t return your love in the manner you wish but please don’t denigrate what’s happened between Kilt and myself as something petty or as a girlish nonsense. I need to be very honest with you now.” She took a deep breath as though steeling herself. “And you need to know this, no matter how much it hurts. I fell in love with Kilt on sight when he was in agony on the ground. And when I rolled up his shirt and touched him I couldn’t breathe for how I felt about him.” She stepped back. “And it was nothing to do with the Valisar magic!” Evie’s ire was up; her eyes were stormy and he spotted familiar high spots of color at her cheeks. He loved her all the more when she was this passionate but he hated that it was anger, and directed at him for the first time in their history. “It had nothing to do with my healing, or his Vested powers or whatever you call it over here. It was plain and simple chemistry, Corbel de Vis, something I understood from my
world. My body, my whole being reacted to him in the most primeval, instinctive way. Take away the magic, take away the bonds and the need to be protected. Strip it all away and I would still feel the same way about him.”

  “Evie—”

  “I love him, Corbel. I cannot help it and while I know it sounds ridiculous and childish and probably pathetic given the time frame, I do truly believe in love at first sight. I always have. And I always hoped it would happen this way for me. This is the first time in my life I have felt love of a romantic kind for anyone. I’m sorry—a thousand times over I’m sorry—that it’s not you, but I love Kilt Faris and yes, we made love in an orchard and we are now bonded as much as by this wretched magic as by our beautiful affection.”

  Corbel ground his teeth. The old saying of pouring vinegar on a wound had never felt more real, and Evie was emptying the vinegar jar into the gaping wound that his heart had become. “And he feels the same way, I presume.”

  “He wants to marry me.”

  He nodded as he let the reality sink in. “Then you have no need for me any longer, your majesty. I will take my leave,” he said and bowed, not giving her a chance to say anything further.

  His heart was already hardened when he heard her choked sob and he refused to turn.

  Loethar stood on the rise, looking down toward the convent. It was not the familiar, welcoming sight of the series of buildings that had his attention but the chilling vision of his own army advancing on Lo’s Teeth.

  He felt Gavriel’s body stiffen alongside him. They’d achieved an awkward but nonetheless easy sort of truce since de Vis’s confrontation. Leo appeared to have reconciled himself to walking alone. Loethar couldn’t help but feel private sympathy for both; Leo was, after all, doing what any royal in exile should . . . work toward securing the crown at all costs. Loethar had once pursued the same.

  What Loethar had discovered, though, and Leo didn’t yet know, was that the price of the throne—the cost to one’s soul—was too high. Loethar pitied him even as he understood what drove him. Leo had nowhere to go, no reason to live except for finally grasping that crown, making his struggle of the past ten anni count for something. Loethar could forgive Leo his hate.