“Silence.” The voice was a seductive whisper, unlike the dagger pressed to his throat. All Wren could think was that it was impossible. She had slipped him from behind, and now she had him pinned.
“As I said, Wren, you feel a little slow.” Her right hand moved down against his stomach; she patted the small extra layer of fat. “You used to be rock solid and so sharp. It is a shame what your wealthy merchant’s life has done to you. You will have no chance taking down my brother in that shape.” She breathed the words into his ear.
Wren fought hard to stay calm, torn between fear and something like desire. “I wouldn’t dare try such a thing, Ravien. Tryst is the prince and he has my loyalty.”
“Don’t waste my time with lies.” She jerked him closer and drew blood with the dagger. “I saw you and Jon in the square tonight. I also know who is in your shop right now.” There was not an inch of space between their bodies.
Her words sent Wren’s mind spinning. Maybe she was going to kill him. How could she possibly know about Andor? Feeling desperate, he kept silent and considered his chances of fighting back. As long as she was alive with that knowledge, everything was in jeopardy.
“Do not think of killing me, Wren. It wouldn’t do any good, because I planted the secret with someone who will survive me. Besides, my dear little bird, you would not want to hurt me.” She pressed even closer, her lips grazing his cheek. “I can help you, and you have always wanted me.” She shifted to the left and bit down lightly on his ear.
Wren felt the change in position and the subtle relaxing of Ravien’s grip. In one flash of movement, he leaned his head away from the blade, grabbed her tight forearm and slung her forward over his shoulder. She slammed onto the roof, landing on her back, still clutching onto Wren and the dagger. The momentum of the throw knocked Wren down to a knee, and the two struggled on the slanted roof for position and control.
Ravien was strong and lightning fast, but Wren overpowered her. Her legs were locked around his waist, but he was on top and had her shoulders and arms pinned down.
Wren gloated for a moment at the position, smiling down at his captive princess. They were at the edge of the arched roof, and her head was hanging off the end, long black hair flowing towards the ground six stories below. Her eyes raged up at him, dark embers threatening to consume him.
“Ravien my dear,” his voice was half serious, half mocking, “you have always been a dangerous woman. Maybe I do want you, but you know too much. What do you propose I do with you?”
She responded with a grin, as if she were the one in control of the situation. “I propose that you question everything you know about me. Question my loyalties and my desires. I am a sister to the prince but also to Lorien. If you displease me in the slightest, there is no doubt that Tryst will learn of your plans. We both know what that would mean. But if you please me,” she rocked her legs, swaying both of them precariously over the ledge, “and that’s a big if, then your plot might have a chance.”
Wren shrugged innocently and thought of distracting her. “What kind of plot are you talking about? Everything I want is right here.”
He plunged and kissed her deeply. For a moment it felt like she was returning the passion, but a sharp pain forced him to pull back. She had bitten his lower lip and drawn blood. Again.
“I can believe that,” Ravien breathed out, failing to hide a faint smile. She lowered her voice to the quietest of whispers that Wren could barely hear. “But it is not so much you, as Andor, who concerns me.”
“Now!” Her yell pierced the intimate moment. He froze as a sharp point pressed into the back of his neck. Apparently he could not hear anything coming this night. He looked into Ravien’s eyes, trying to make out the reflection of who was behind him.
She returned his deep gaze and spoke delicately. “Wren, be silent and stay completely still.” He loved the sound of his name as it rolled off her lips. “I know you and Jon are planning something with him.” She let that hang in the air; Wren fought to keep his face blank. “I will be joining the Lycurgus on this march, and will stay close to my brother. If you try to harm him, it will not end well. But some of our interests may be aligned.”
Wren could no longer suppress his look of surprise, and Ravien seized on it. “Remember, question everything you assume about me. Now you know that I am not alone.” The unknown blade pressed harder into the back of Wren’s neck, driving his face closer to Ravien’s. “We will communicate with you, and you must obey our requests. If you do not, you have no chance. You might succeed, although not in the way you expect, if you please me.”
She leaned closer and gave him a light kiss. “If you please me.”
Suddenly everything went dark, as the person behind him tied a cloth over his eyes. He felt a blade at his throat again, forcing him to stand blindly. He felt Ravien escape from below him. An instant later, her voice was beside his right ear. “Stay blind and count to fifty. Then you may return home and get what little sleep you can. It would not please me if you count too quickly. Dawn is coming.”
Wren obeyed the command to the letter. He thought through Ravien’s words, looking for hidden meanings. How did she know? Who was she working with? No matter how he approached it, they were in trouble. She had the position and the information to ruin everything.
At the count of fifty he pulled off the blindfold, which smelled of lavender. There was no one to be seen.
The view over the city was amazing in the early pre-dawn. He could make out the spires of the prince’s palace to his left, and the walls of Valemidas wrapped around the sleeping city. It was peaceful now, but the effects of Tryst’s reign, and Ramzi’s oppressive rules, were rippling through the city. Wren shuddered at what would happen to the peace under a lifetime of Tryst.
Andor’s plot had to succeed. As Wren made his way back to his shop, he prepared to tell Andor and Jon what he had learned. It would not be easy, because he would have to explain how he ended up on a rooftop with Tryst’s sister. He climbed into bed for an hour of sleep and found himself dreaming of a dark and beautiful woman.
Chapter 8
THE POWER OF WORDS
“The delight which arises
from the modifications of pain
confesses the stock
from whence it sprung,
in its solid, strong,
and severe nature.”
Lorien was feeling crushed within the tower walls. She stood before the mirror in her dressing chamber, looking luminescent in the morning light. She was like a candle flame rising up from the cold stone floors.
Over the past months she had hardly left her rooms. The measure of time had been difficult. After losing Andor, every day grinded by in the same bleak misery. Like many in Valemidas, she missed him as a prince, but she alone felt empty without him in her world. They had planned to marry. They had planned to have children. They had planned to rule Valemidas and its kingdom, together. Andor had promised as much to her, and if not for her traitor half-brother, she would be making final preparations as a bride.
Instead, she felt ready to crumble. Mourning overcame her. The tears would have filled buckets—buckets labeled devastation, fear, and anger. As the days passed, she plunged deeper towards the cause of her pain.
The night before, when Tryst had been coronated, she had channeled her emotions into ambition. His speech before the nobles had been bad, but what followed was even worse. Lorien had heard accounts of his murders on the stairs of the palace. Rumors said that a dozen men had died at Tryst’s hands, and that his opponents had been drugged by some drink to keep challenging him. The atrocious display would only confirm the people’s terrified respect for their prince.
It disgusted Lorien. She knew that Tryst and Ramzi would use that fear to shackle the people with even more onerous laws. She would fight them by whatever means she could, because she knew that Andor would have wanted it. Otherwise, she might as well be banished on some island to waste away in solitude.
&n
bsp; Before she could fight, though, she needed to recover, to regain her composure. The dark circles under her eyes were her battle wounds. Staring into the mirror, her lips turned up at the thought. At least it was an improvement from the first few weeks, when she had given up. Her own hand had not resolved to take her life, but she could not bring herself to drink, eat, or sleep.
With her brother sitting as the prince, she was a princess by right. That meant she had a duty to protect her people. A wrecked princess would be little help against the overwhelming force of Tryst. She could try to use her status against him. A change of scenery would be a good start. Today, she told herself, she would get outside to the city and maybe even beyond.
Tryst would of course have her watched, wherever she went. He had picked all of her serving maids and guards as soon as he had stolen the throne. They reported to him and had little loyalty towards Lorien, although they had begun showing sympathy.
She looked over the wardrobe that her maids had brought for her to choose from today. The huge oak armoire was full of dresses, most of them black. Lorien appreciated that the maids had come to respect her mood. She ran her fingers along one simple, elegant riding dress. It was made of fine wool, with a full neck and a teardrop-shaped exposure at the back. Like most of her recent attire, it was well suited to a funeral on a rainy day. Scanning the rest of the options, Lorien decided that none of them would work. Her clothes needed to match her task, if she was to escape her downward cycle of despair.
Calling to the maid sitting outside the room, Lorien tried to picture herself from before, as if she was about to join Andor on an adventure. She could sense his presence in a way that had been lost to her for many days.
Her maid appeared before her. She was small, with innocent eyes and straight dark hair. Lorien wondered whether Tryst had hand-selected each servant to pick the ones he thought Lorien would come to trust. He should have known better.
Lorien forced herself to smile as she spoke. “Cheril, bring me other options, perhaps in green and brown, and suited for riding. I will need riding boots.” The maid nodded politely and turned to go. Lorien added, “and nothing black.”
She felt better already. Stripping out of her gown, she gazed at her body as if seeing it for the first time in months. She was shocked at her thinness. As the daughter of a knight, she had always had a healthy amount of lean muscle on her frame. Her mother had often disapproved of her physical activities, but they had been a part of who she was. Now, her skin was stretched thin over her bones. Her ribs could be counted, her shoulders were sharp, and her frame made her small breasts look large. Pulling up her hair, Lorien could see a pulse along her thin neck. It was startling how her body had diminished. If she did not start eating more, she really would waste away.
Her maid returned with an armful of clothes. “Thank you, Cheril. I see that the porridge you brought has become cold. Send for another hot breakfast, with eggs this time.”
Cheril failed to hide her surprise at the request. Of course, Lorien thought, the servants would have noticed, and reported, that she was not eating. She decided that next time she saw Tryst she would tell him that his coronation speech had lifted her spirits. Her smug brother would believe it, too.
The selection of riding garments was inspiring. Lorien found what Andor would have wanted her to wear. It started with the leather boots, which rose to her knees and had bright silver buckles at the top. She picked a dark green riding dress, which had small, buttoned pockets at the chest and on the arms. The pockets would help hide her frailty. To avoid exposing her pale thighs, she found a pair of knit leggings. A light brown cloak completed the look of an adventurer. She decided against a hat. It would be good for the people in the city to recognize her today.
Shortly after she was dressed, the food arrived. She plotted her day as she slowly ate the rich breakfast. The meal raised her spirits so much that she considered ordering more, but she decided her body should be eased back into its more normal routine.
She did not bother to tell anyone she was leaving. A retinue would follow her whether or not she asked. Her confidence rose as she left her quarters. It had been too long for a princess of Valemidas to stay sheltered.
The prince’s palace sat perched above the city, with walls rising up from the steep, rocky hillside. Among the spires of the palace, the tallest were two slender towers set on either side of the central keep. The palace was built in recent eras of peace, with opulence growing on top of the fortified castle that had long protected the city. The only entrance was along the grand stairs to the northwest of the palace.
Lorien had been holed up high in the southeastern tower, which meant a brisk walk to reach the stairs leading to the city. She decided to walk the long way along the inside of the wall, rather than cutting through the central keep and risking seeing her brother.
The grounds of the palace were not as she remembered them, even though the paths and gardens retained the same elegant beauty. The difference was in the people. Just months ago, Lorien would have seen knights sparring and laughing during breaks. She would have seen nobles milling around, plotting certainly, but with at least an air of cordiality. She would have seen children.
Today there was no laughter. Nobles and children were nowhere to be seen. It was as if Tryst had banished playfulness from the palace. Soldiers abounded, but they looked stiff. They marched in twos, backs straight with discipline. She did not see any sparring, although a few lines of men practiced spear thrusts under the barking commands of knights whom Lorien did not recognize. Making matters worse, she was trailed by an unapologetic, unsmiling group of six guards.
It was far too pretty a day for the lack of gaiety. Yesterday had been nothing but heavy spring rain. Lorien had hardly noticed it, but now she appreciated the changing season. The young buds on trees seemed ready to burst. The grass still glistened from the morning dew. Under the clear blue sky, the moisture might give way to the first flowers this very day. Lorien focused on the natural surroundings, and away from the soldiers and the followers. She could not handle more thoughts of war, or of anything negative. This was a day to be uplifted. She needed to recover.
The prince’s stables sat along the wall, just inside the gateway to the palace. As she approached, she was surprised to recognize the stableboy outside, Telemachus. He had been Andor’s squire. He was also the son of Ulysses, who was among the few of Andor’s sworn men that Tryst had kept on his own Knight’s Council. A knight of Ulysses’ caliber was not easily replaced. Tryst probably believed his loyalty to be to his position on the Council, not to the person of the prince. She hoped her brother was mistaken.
Lorien smiled as she walked towards the stable. “Tel, it is good to see you,” she said.
The young man bowed low. His dark hair was shaggy as always. “My princess, it is an honor,” he mumbled sincerely while staring at the ground.
She reached down and lifted his head gently by the chin. She and Andor might have had a son who would have looked like this. “Come now, you look as if you see death walking. Please saddle up Juniper. I am going for a ride.”
Excitement lit his eyes. “Of course, my princess. Many of us have been worried about you, but here you are, and it is a great day for a ride. Juniper has missed you. She is such a beautiful mare. I say she is the finest we have. She will be thrilled to get out of these stables.” He turned and hurried into the building.
“Thank you, Tel,” she called after him. Yes, she thought, Juniper and I will both be thrilled to get outside of these walls.
Lorien leaned against the stable while Tel did his work. She breathed deeply, trying to will her strength to return. As she waited, she gazed up at the central keep. It was centered perfectly within the palace, twice as wide as the towers at its sides. Lorien, Tryst, and Ravien had spent many days exploring the imposing keep as a child. Their father was one of the greatest knights of his day, which afforded his children access to most of the palace’s grounds. Those were memories of b
etter days, but now she felt a chill at the thought of Tryst in the building. He had removed the bright pennants that used to flow out of the windows. It was like he wanted his palace to absorb all the surrounding light of the city. Lorien sighed and looked back down.
Tryst stood before her.
“You frown, dear sister. What troubles you?” He looked pleased to have caught her off guard.
Lorien put on the same practiced smile she had worn to his coronation. “You surprised me, Tryst, that’s all,” she replied. “It is a beautiful day, and I am going out for a ride.”
“Now that is a surprise. You have not left the palace in months.” Tryst held out his arm. “Come, let’s walk together before you go.”
Lorien took his arm and tried to relax. It would not do for Tryst to sense her anger. She would play the obedient sister and let him guide the conversation.
Tryst led her away from the stable, heading towards the palace’s open gate. They reached the gate before either of them had said another word. Lorien found it strange that her brother would abide by the silence. They stood facing the city sprawled out below them.
“You have been worrying me, Lorien.” Tryst finally said, as he gazed over the city. “I hear that you have not been eating.” He paused, and continued in a lower voice that none of the nearby guards could hear. “You did a poor job hiding your frustration at my coronation. This has been a time to celebrate the rise of your brother as prince. You are now the princess that you always wanted to be. I know what you have lost, but what more do you want from me?”
Staring at her and awaiting a reply, Tryst had anger and concern blended in his expression. His eyes were shadowed under his furrowed brow, contrasting starkly with the radiant blue diamond on his crown.
Lorien was taken aback by his openness. Her lips pressed together as she sought calmness. Of course he is concerned, she thought. I am his vulnerability—he cannot rid himself of his sister, yet his sister loved the prince he deposed. She had to find some use for that.
Light in the Gloaming (The Gloaming Book One) Page 7
