by R. J. Price
“Manners, Aren, remember?” the woman said faintly.
“Oh, yes, Av, this is my Danya,” Aren said, setting a hand on the woman's shoulder. “She's a healer. She's lived here her entire life and is… How old, Danya?”
“I don't know for certain… Over thirty,” Danya said. “And a rank is only supposed to call someone theirs when they're sexually interested in them.”
For a startling moment Av thought of the three of them sharing a bed. When the woman on the porch grinned at him despite the tears still dancing in her eyes, he knew she had done it on purpose. She knew how to speak to warriors and how to lead them to the conclusion she wanted them to move to.
“Why does he look like that?” Aren asked Danya. “I thought only Mar could make him look like that.”
“I'm breaking the awkward mood,” Danya said to Aren in a tone. “He just killed Rewel. I don't see anyone else, either. I don't know where they went.”
“Rewel,” Av said. The name seemed to stick to his tongue. He wondered if he would ever be able to forget the name. “We really shouldn't stay around here. There could be bandits.”
“There are no bandits,” Danya said quietly. “And I'm not certain I can leave.”
“Of course you can,” Aren said.
She said it sternly enough that Av was certain Aren was trying to give Danya a command. There was also a desperate edge to the words. Whatever Aren's thoughts throughout her time in the village, she had never stopped to consider the fact that Danya might be stuck there.
“This is simple,” Av said. “Where's the old warrior?”
“What warrior?” Danya asked.
“Warrior—you're a rank and know more than Aren, so—someone who felt like me, was old enough to be my father, though he might look younger considering everything.”
“Why are you looking for this warrior?” Aren asked.
“Long story short,” Av said while he stepped back from Aren, “a warrior drew a pregnant queen out here to link her to the same thing you were linked to and when that failed because the link won't work if you're pregnant, he cut the babe from her belly. She cursed him, trying to save herself and the babe. We thought the village was cursed, but it's actually him. He dies, the curse ends, Danya's free to go.”
“Why do you believe him to be here?” Danya asked.
“Because landscape magic is the only thing that remains in one place,” Av said expertly. He didn't know much about magic, but that much he knew. “If you curse an object and the object moves, the curse moves. If you curse a person and the person moves, the curse moves.”
Although it had taken him most of the winter to figure out that the man had to still be in the village.
“Rewel was the only man left alive in the village,” Danya said. “There were others—they were all men—but they took their own lives over the years.”
“Did any of them feel different?” Av asked. “One of them must have felt like me.”
“No,” Danya said. “You feel like a commoner.”
“That's impossible. I'm not a commoner,” Av said to Danya.
“Oh,” said Aren.
“I'm sorry, I've never met a warrior before. I can only tell you that you feel like everyone else I've ever met. Besides the Others, but they were villagers that were killed in the initial attack. Because of the magic, they were unable to pass to where spirits go. They just sort of haunt us, I guess. The longer a queen was attached, the more solid they became, making Rewel think that he just needed a stronger queen to rid us of the magic.
“The strongest amongst them could move things but only objects new to the village, and it drained them. They could speak, but they couldn't really answer your questions. My mother visited for years. She'd tell me all kinds of stories and taught me a great deal about history. All she knew, really. But I could never get her to elaborate on anything. For whatever reason, the healer kept appearing to me, talking a great deal. I learned everything he knew as well.
“Then my mother vanished, then the healer did, right about when I turned eighteen. Since then until this morning, I saw neither of them, and then the healer came to me. I never knew his name, but he always seemed kind.”
“Did he have something to say?” Av asked.
“’Lavender and mint can make a queen sleep,’” Danya said. “I knew that, of course. Then he said a little holly berry juice can make her go with the spirits.”
Knowing what that meant, Av was furious that the healer would tell Danya how to drug a queen.
“And I had the strangest reaction to my food this morning,” Aren said.
“Rewel tried to slip you something,” Danya said. “And the healer warned me.”
“Maybe one of the Others is him, just caught in between? Can you summon them?” Av asked.
“No, no,” Aren said. “She doesn't know what a warrior feels like because they were all warriors. I can't tell the difference, right? Did you stop to see if he was a rank?”
Av twitched when Aren motioned behind her, to the common area.
“But the Others—” Danya started.
“Pissed off, dying queen reaches out to destroy the one who did her harm. She's confused. The commoners are wiped out because a queen doesn't hurt commoners on purpose. The ranks are left alive. Yourself, just a toddler, and a bunch of warriors.”
“Link like that?” Av managed to get out even though his throat constricted at the thought of it. “One warrior didn't do that by himself. Rewel might not have been the original one, but he sided with the warrior. Trust a queen's instinct.”
“Then how do we know if the magic is gone?” Aren asked.
An idea occurred to Av. He looked at Aren, then turned to Danya.
“Got anything to drink?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Danya refused to try to leave the village until after Aren drank an entire bottle. She had so much to drink that the next morning when she awoke, barely hanging onto a horse, she hadn't any idea how she had gotten there or if the world would ever stop moving.
She was never going to drink again—not ever.
The trip back to the palace was unfamiliar. Aren didn't recognize anything they passed.
At the first village, they had spent the night in the home of a lovely older couple who had been more than happy to have Av back. He pulled in water, stacked wood, helped with all the chores while Aren washed and then simply sat in aching silence. The feeling of the drink lasted until the next morning.
Four more days to the palace. They only made it in that much time because while Av stopped to switch out the horses whereever and whenever he could, they didn't stop to sleep in an actual bed. The horses rested, but the people did not. The closer to the palace they came, the more often they saw villages, which meant the more often they switched out the horses.
The moment the horse stepped onto palace grounds, Aren was off of it. She walked on her own feet, looking over the people. It felt different than all the other land, felt so much more like home.
Av came down off his horse to walk beside her. Then Danya on her other side. Inside the palace itself, lords and ladies skittered out of her way, frowning at the dirtied woman who they ran from instinctively. They may not have recognized Aren, but they did know Av, walking along beside her.
No one tried to stop her as she walked through the palace, likely because Av was at her side. Into the queen's rooms Aren went, sniffing the air and grimacing at the stale smell. She stripped as she walked to the bathing room.
“Uhm, Aren?” Av squeaked out.
She stopped at the bathing room door wearing absolutely nothing. Peering at Av, she found a rush of excitement at how the man eyed her back and legs. There was no hunger there, but there was an appreciation. Aren knew her body had changed over the winter, and she wasn't happy with how it had changed. Yet still there was some desire in that look.
“Yes, Av?” she asked, meeting his eyes.
Av cocked his head to the side. The motion was ove
rdone, but it did turn Aren's eyes to Danya, who seemed to be trying to look around her. The woman was blinking rapidly, then rubbed at her eyes.
“I'm going to take her to the healer's hall. She's been bothered for a few days now,” Av said. “Will you stay here, in this room, in this set of rooms, and not leave again until I come back and speak with you?”
“What if you die on the way back to me?” Aren asked.
The warrior's eyes darted to Aren's backside, then roved up her back and met her eyes. The man's mouth was open just slightly.
“If I die before I see that again, I'll take the whole world with me when I go,” Av said, then turned to Danya. “Come, darling. Here, Danya, there you go, take my hand. We'll see the healers. The palace employs several good healers, with actual magic, not only of their own but also with a link to the throne. Depending on how Aren is feeling, they can tap into her to help you.”
“I'm fine,” Danya said.
“Spoken like a queen,” Av said.
Aren smiled and walked into the bathing room as the lights turned on. Bright and welcoming, the room was polished to perfection. Walking across the tiled floor barefoot, Aren made her way to the bathtub and turned on the hot water. Without waiting for the tub to fill, she climbed in and sank low, waiting for the water level to rise. The heat was a blessed thing.
She hadn't had a proper bath in months.
As she soaked in the ever-rising hot water, she heard the door in the outer room open and close. The palace seemed to relax. Aren pushed magic into the walls and was rewarded with a face, which she could put a name to. With a smile, she turned her head to the door of the bathing room as Wena walked in.
“You're a—” Wena stopped herself, pressed her lips into a thin line and glared at Aren for a moment.
“I'm not going to throw something if you say a bad word,” Aren said.
“You don't just get to run off on me, getting me in trouble from Telm and Av and Ervam and Jer and any number of lords and ladies,” Wena said sternly. “Now you're back and you think you can just smile at me as if everything is all right?”
“Telm made a mess when she was younger. I went out to fix it,” Aren said.
Wena approached the bathtub and shut off the hot water. She still glared down at Aren, folding her arms as she silently judged her.
“What?” Aren asked.
“Are you telling everyone that?” Wena demanded.
“No, just you because I don't need you stabbing Av over it,” Aren said with a small smile.
“Let's just make this clear,” Wena said, jabbing a finger down at Aren. “I wouldn't stab him for your running off like a child in the middle of the night. I'd stab you in both legs and make you crawl to the healer's hall for help.”
“I didn't run off like a child,” Aren protested.
“If you ever run off like a child, I will stab you. You are a queen, not some commoner trollop. You don't run, you stay here and don't leave me to those women again, ever again. Do you hear me?”
“What did they do?” Aren asked.
Wena moved to a cupboard, withdrawing a bar of soap and a washcloth. Returning to the tub, Wena handed the items over to Aren. With washcloth and soap Aren began meticulously washing herself.
“There was talk after Telm took ill that Laeder caused it in order to become head of house and assert himself at court. There was also talk that you had run off after being scorned by a man who liked men. The women have begun to circulate the anger of men liking men. There is a lady pair, meaning two ladies, at court who are concerned that the talk will turn against them soon.”
“I didn't realize there was a pair of ladies at court,” Aren murmured.
“They keep to themselves, but the servants know,” Wena said. “Speaking of servants, they are concerned because Telm has been ill. They do not blame Laeder or the healers, but they do talk of how she has always talked about what they should do, were they ill. Telm is on the mend, thought. She was up out of bed just the other day.”
Aren paused in her washing, looking at Wena instead. “What do you mean?”
“Lady Telm refused the help of healers, wouldn't even allow them to touch her.”
With a sigh she picked up the washcloth and continued washing away the last of the dirt from travelling. She recalled Telm mentioning something about not allowing healers to touch her.
“Your mother rode in the other day, in a full coach as if she were the one to sit the throne. The guards gave her that whole thing they do when someone important arrives. She was very upset that you and your sister were not here to greet her with happy faces and open arms.”
“What do you mean, my sister?”
“Oh, right, you ran before that,” Wena said. “Your mother called your sister to court to spend the winter with you out at Ervam's estate, which is where your mother has thought the pair of you were. Av, Jer, and Ervam have been looking after your sister. Ervam returned this morning and ushered your sister into his set of rooms and said anyone but you coming to see them would be stabbed. He said it very loudly and while your mother was present.
“The story at the moment goes that you left early, Av was going to join you but your sister arrived and then he went with your sister and his father out to Ervam's estate. Now, for coming back, Ervam made it known that you and Av had a bit of a fight and you had decided that you weren't coming back so you ran and Av went after you, at which point all the ladies fell on the lords, with their fans and the moaning, and stopped paying attention.”
“Running?” Aren asked Wena.
“I went to see Telm about it. She called it going to the spirits. When I asked her what that meant, she asked me if I had ever heard the stories of rising. Basically, the court thinks you got really upset and ran, with Av chasing after you and capturing you to do private things.”
Aren stared at Wena, her mouth open just slightly.
“It was the only thing that Ervam might have said to explain why you weren't here and why you may or may not be returning to court with an angry look and a stabbing sort of mood. Or, alternatively, explain the joyous return. It doesn't explain the second woman, however.”
With a shrug Aren sank deeper into the hot water.
“Wait, what do you mean Ervam's estate?”
“He doesn't have an estate? That's the word they keep using.”
“It's a house. A nice house, but still just a house.”
Both women were silent for a moment, sharing a quiet smile.
“Your mother begs an audience,” Wena said.
“My mother can rot,” Aren muttered.
“Lady Para Argnern demands an audience with the one who sits the throne,” Wena said. “Frankly, Aren, I know it's not my place, but your mother is a terror. I told her you weren't in yet and she demanded I call her the moment you were in.”
“How late is it?” Aren asked.
“Late, but she would still be up,” Wena said with a frown. “Are you seriously considering this? Last time you spoke with your mother—no, when your mother first came to court… Do you remember the terror she brought with her? You were so close to doing something good and then nothing.”
Rewel had been Danya's dark spirit. Para was Aren's. While Av had inadvertently saved Danya from her terror, even as she had wailed because he was dead, there was no one to come to Aren's aid. She could ask Av, but how would that turn out, really?
“Do you know when she goes to bed?” Aren asked Wena.
“Yes, she told me exactly when and not to call her after that time,” Wena responded. “For the sake of my flesh not being damaged.”
“I have a need for three audiences tonight.”
“Yes, my lady,” Wena said, responding to the change of tone.
“I cannot decide the timing of them,” Aren sighed. “Para must visit me tonight, but it will be well after her bedtime. I must speak with Lord Av.”
“Oh dear,” Wena said before she lowered her eyes.
She was worried
because Aren had used Av's title as well as his name.
“I also need to speak with Lady Telm,” Aren said. “Of them, two are in trouble, one is not.”
For a moment, Wena was silent. “Telm is likely back to work, which means she will be seeing to her girls long into the night, so it’s best not to interrupt her unless you wanted to make a very specific point. Lord Av would desperately want to see you, and you delay that for two reasons, to tease him or to discipline him. Your mother I'm guessing is in trouble, as you've already stated when she shall be called.”
“Which means what?” Aren asked.
“Call Lady Para Argnern first, then Lord Av, then Lady Telm. Whether Telm is in trouble or not, you should respect the fact that she is trying to recover her house after her illness.”
Aren considered the order. She sighed out slowly.
“Make it clear these are my wishes. Sign it from the throne, Wena. Can you write?”
“I can, my lady. How do I sign from the throne?”
“I haven't the faintest clue, but I want them signed from the throne,” Aren said. After a moment of silence, the solution occurred to her. “Seek out Ervam. His mate sat the throne. He may know how.”
“At once,” Wena said.
“And Wena?” Aren asked as the woman tried to leave. “I appreciate your tone and how you are straightforward. Thank you.”
“No lady has ever thanked me,” Wena said, sounding confused.
“Thank you for giving her lip? What woman in her right mind would do that?” Aren asked with a small chuckle.
“One who holds truth and honour over vanity and personal desire.”
Chapter Forty
Para walked into the queen's rooms, exhausted. The fact that she had been called so late at night, when she knew Aren had returned hours earlier, was an insult. She would have come to the rooms to demand entrance no matter who stood at the doors, but something had kept her in her rooms.
Aren still had Anue, that was what was keeping Para at bay. Para had hoped and prayed that Anue was a queen like her sister. All the work, all that trouble buying the loyalty of the lords and promising that the younger sister was more obedient.
