The Steel Queen (The Silk & Steel Saga Book 1)

by Karen Azinger

  Choice was something she’d rarely had in her life. She looked away, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the still waters of the pool. Beside her, the master rose from the bench and moved toward the statue, as if giving her room to decide. Kath stared at her reflection, remembering her fortune at the Isle of Souls and her visions in the broken tower. She’d left Castlegard yearning for a destiny, but she’d never expected this. To herself, as much as to the master, she whispered, “No. I am meant to wield the dagger. I will not give the dagger up, though I barely understand it.”

  A hushed silence settled over the garden.

  “Why me? Why did I find the dagger?”

  From behind her, the master replied in a gentle voice, “Perhaps if you look inside yourself, you will find the answer.”

  She gazed at her reflection, considering his words. Shifting on the bench, she noticed the gleam of gold on the bottom of the pool. Brushing a floating leaf aside, she waited for the ripples to disappear. When the ripples stilled, she gazed through the water to find four lines of a poem inscribed on the bottom of the pool.

  “An autumn leaf floats,

  Casting a starfish shadow on the ocean floor,

  A wave gives the starfish life,

  Reincarnation?”

  Kath gasped. Perhaps the answer lay hidden in another time…when the tower of the eight-sided star was whole and unbroken. Questions flooded her mind. There was so much she didn’t understand. She turned to ask the master…but he was gone, almost as if he’d disappeared. Kath shivered despite the warmth.

  Left to the solitude of the garden, she sat by the reflecting pool, contemplating the riddle of her life, but every answer opened the door to another question. She’d come to the monastery for answers but so far they’d only shown her more questions. She reached into the golden box and removed the crystal dagger. The dagger fit perfectly to her hand. She held the crystalline blade up to the light, wondering how a single dagger could defeat a thousand years of evil.

  80

  Danly

  Danly’s anger built to a rage as he rode through the streets of Pellanor. Instead of spending the evening with friends at an exclusive dicing party, he found himself rushing to the bordello. By the time he’d received the Red Horns’ message he was already hours late. He whipped his horse to a lather, seething at the thought of the future king of Lanverness rushing like a lackey to answer the summons of a mere politician. The man was going to pay for his insolence. Danly looked forward to the day.

  Arriving at the bordello, he threw the reins of his stallion to a waiting boy and then went straight to the selection parlor. What he found in the parlor further soured his mood. Due to the lateness of the hour only the tired dregs remained. He needed a woman to justify his visit but he couldn’t bring himself to select one of the nags on display.

  Madam Stock rushed into the room, effusive with apologies. “My Lord, we will find something suitable. I’ve been saving, a rare flower waiting to be plucked.” She offered the prince a new girl, a country maid fresh arrived from a remote village. The old harlot even offered to wave the extra maidenhead price usually charged for a virgin.

  Suspicious, Danly insisted on seeing the girl.

  “You will not be disappointed.” The madam forced a large glass of brandy into his hand and ushered him to a seat.

  Danly sipped the brandy, drumming his fingers on the armrest. He finished the glass and poured a second, irritated by the wait. He was about to storm out of the room when the madam returned leading a young woman. Perfumed and swathed in layers of sheer silk, the girl pirouetted for his inspection. Backlit by the fire, she appeared slender and shapely but Danly insisted on seeing her face. With a flourish, the madam removed the girl’s veil. A lush mane of chestnut hair framed an oval face, but it was her mouth that stirred his manhood. Moist and full, her pouting lips begged to be bruised. Perhaps he could salvage some pleasure from the evening after all. He signaled his acceptance, but Madam Stock intervened. “As it is her first time, lord, give me a chance to prepare the girl for your pleasure.” The madam bowed as she led her charge out of the parlor.

  Impatient, Danly paced the parlor. After his first meeting with the Red Horns, Danly had reserved the suite with the secret staircase for his exclusive use, paying the madam a monthly stipend for the privilege. It proved to be a wise decision given the unpredictability of his meetings with the rebel leader.

  Madam Stock returned and escorted him to his usual suite. He entered the outer room and found the girl’s silk veils strewn in a perfumed path across the floor. The trail of enticement led to the bedroom. The game was getting interesting. Throwing open the inner doors, he found the girl naked in bed. A silken sheet clutched to her breasts, she stared at him with wide frightened eyes. Danly wondered if the girl would be passive or feisty. She remained mute, quivering beneath the sheets, shrinking from his touch. Her fear pleased him. Pity he couldn’t take the time to properly enjoy the girl.

  Pressed for time, he decided to not even bother undressing. He eased the ties binding his codpiece, watching the girl’s eyes. Taking her face in his hands, he bruised her lips with a kiss. She shrank from his touch, a scream struggling to escape her lips. Her eyes went wide and wild. Danly smiled, the little vixen knew what was coming. Her hopeless struggle only excited him. Fully clothed, he crawled on top, eager for the mount, but something broke inside the girl. Snarling beneath him, she unleashed a fury of nails and teeth. She fought like a she-lion. Clawed nails racked across his face gouging five bloody tracks into his cheek, just missing his left eye. Danly recoiled. His face stung. Blood dripped onto the sheets. His blood!

  Danly exploded in rage. He lashed out with his fists, pummeling the girl into submission. When his anger subsided, she was nothing more than a mewing mass of welts and bruises. Danly rolled off of her and paced in front of the fireplace, his fists clenched in anger. The girl deserved a slow death, but he dare not do it here, not with the leader of the Red Horns coming. The least he could do was to break her maidenhead. He strode back to the bed to get what he’d paid for. Bruised and battered, the girl submitted with barely a whimper. Lacing up his codpiece, Danly had the satisfaction of seeing her blood on the sheets. At least the madam hadn’t lied about the girl’s virginity.

  Sated for the moment, he left the girl spread senseless on the bed.

  Pouring a goblet of red wine, he was going to add the alchemist’s powder but the hidden compartment on his poison ring was empty. Seething, Danly hurled the goblet across the room. The glass shattered, leaving a red stain dripping down the wall.

  Looking down at the girl, he studied her. She hadn’t moved, despite the sound of the shattering goblet. He prodded her but she didn’t respond. Perhaps he wouldn’t need the drug after all, the girl was obviously too broken to cause any more trouble.

  Danly fingered the cuts on his face, wincing at the pain. Madam Stock owed him for breaking in her wildcat. The old harlot should know better than to disappoint a prince of the realm.

  Straightening his shirt and adjusting his codpiece, Danly opened the doors to the sitting room. He was surprised to find the leader of the Red Horns already waiting. The counselor looked up, sneering at the sight of Danly’s face. “So the vixen had claws tonight?”

  Danly sent the counselor a daggered glance. Crossing the parlor, he poured himself a large brandy, downing the glass in one long swallow. Wiping his mouth, he poured a second.

  “You might want to save some brandy for your face, my prince. We wouldn’t want those five telltale cuts to become scars. People might get the wrong impression. Too many battles in the bedroom, makes you look like a rapist instead of a lover.”

  Danly scowled, refusing to engage.

  Ever the politician, the counselor’s voice changed from mocking to solicitous. “Such scars would not be dignified for the next king of Lanverness.”

  Danly snapped, “More words!” He flung the glass into the fireplace, the brandy adding sparks to the flame.
“I’m tired of your words, counselor, just as I’m tired of waiting for the Red Horns to defeat the queen. When your future king goes out of his way to meet with you, he expects to hear something of substance. Now, tell me news of the revolt.”

  The politician bowed low.

  The gesture of submission helped mollify Danly’s anger.

  “My prince, you will sit on the Rose Throne before the end of the next fortnight.”

  Danly stilled, absorbing the counselor’s words. A thrill that was almost sexual coursed through him. Not trusting his voice, he stared at the counselor, waiting for an explanation.

  “The last time we met, I told you of a plan to eliminate the crown prince and his loyal men. I am pleased to report that the first stage of the plan has been successful. It is only a matter of time before your brother’s head graces the portcullis of Tandroth Castle.”

  Danly filled a second goblet. “Tell me more.”

  “Given the queen’s preoccupation with Coronth, I arranged for mercenaries wearing the Flame God’s colors to attack a royal courier. The mercenaries made bloody work of a merchant family but they let the royal courier escape.” The counselor smiled, smoothing his mustache. “The queen took the bait, and is sending the crown prince and the Rose Squad to find the soldiers of the Flame and drive them out of Lanverness.” The counselor moved to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. “Mercenaries will of course be waiting to ambush the prince and his men.” The counselor flashed a wolf’s smile. “With an advantage of three to one, the outcome is assured. The mercenaries will send the prince’s head back to Pellanor in a sack. Once the head graces the gates of the castle, the good people of Pellanor will know that you, Prince Danly, are the one and only rightful heir to the Rose Throne. Then we can move on the queen.” The counselor’s smile deepened. “With the Rose Squad out of the way, there should be little resistance.” He raised his glass in salute. “So you see, my prince, it is only a matter of time before Lanverness once again has a rightful king.”

  “Where did you find the mercenaries?”

  “Radagar of course.” His voice deepened, “I trust you approve, my prince?”

  A slow smile spread across the Danly’s face. He swelled with thoughts of the throne, thoughts of power. “You’ve done well.” His earlier anger forgotten, Danly added, “What should I do to prepare for the great day?”

  “Stay close to the castle for the next fortnight. Avoid any dicing parties and of course, the bordello. The Red Horns will rise as soon we have the prince’s head. Once the queen is taken, our soldiers will need to see their rightful king on the throne.” Pausing, he added, “Stay in your chambers till a guard identifying himself as a Red Horn comes for you.” Flashing a wolf’s smile, he raised his glass in salute. “To the victory of the Red Horns and the triumph of the king!”

  Danly raised his glass to the toast. He drank the brandy in a single long swallow and then dashed the goblet into the fireplace. The glass shattered like a broken kingdom.

  “It is best if I leave. We must still contend with the queen’s shadowmen.” The counselor triggered the mechanism, opening the secret staircase. “Next time we meet, I will bow to you as my king instead of just my prince. Fair well, my lord.”

  The Red Horn slipped into the staircase. The concealing wall slid back into place with a soft click.

  Danly stood in front of the fireplace, a sense of destiny flooding through him. Soon, he would wear the crown of the greatest kingdom in all of Erdhe. A thrill that he could only described as sexual flooded through him. So this is what power truly felt like. He was going to enjoy being the king of Lanverness…but first he would satisfy the needs of a prince. With his codpiece straining at the bindings, he left the suite to find the madam. He wanted fresh women for his bed and a room with clean linens. It was time to celebrate his coming ascension.

  He strode from the suite, failing to notice that the door to the bedroom was slightly ajar.

  81

  Katherine

  A knock sounded on the door to her sleeping cell. Kath leaped to open it, expecting Duncan, surprised to find a blue-robed master instead. Swallowing her disappointment, she offered a cautious smile. “Master Rizel?”

  His sun-weathered face gave little away. “You came for answers.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then answers you shall have. Come with me.” He turned without waiting for a reply and Kath found herself rushing to match his stride. “Where are we going?”

  “To the Grand Master.”

  Her footsteps faltered, her hand reaching for her good luck charm. She wanted answers but she hadn’t expected an audience with the mysterious Grand Master. “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  She rushed to catch up. “But why am I summoned?”

  “You bear something of great importance to the Order.”

  Her breath caught, so this was about the crystal dagger. She remembered the look on his face when she’d first shown him the golden box from the ruined tower. He’d tried to hide it, but she’d caught the glint of surprise in his eyes, perhaps even shock, proving the monks did not know everything. They’d invited her to the monastery for her gargoyle, never expecting the crystal dagger. His surprise only deepened her curiosity.

  Morning sunlight streamed across the golden floor. Kath followed the master, losing track of the twists and turns, realizing he led her to a part of the monastery she’d never seen. The mage-stone hallways narrowed and the calligraphy became more elaborate, swirls of gold decorating each letter. Torches replaced windows, sending a mix of light and shadows skittering across the written walls. Something about the narrowing hallways evoked a feeling of great age, as if she walked towards an ancient secret. And then the color of the doors began to change from golden to midnight-blue. So many dark blue doors, the forbidden color snared Kath’s imagination, making her wonder what secrets they guarded. The monastery was full of mysteries and now she was going to meet the elusive Grand Master. She shivered, feeling the pull of destiny, as if she walked toward an audience with the gods.

  The hallway widened abruptly, sunlight streaming through panes of glass inset in the vaulted ceiling. Kath blinked at the sudden brightness, stunned by the unexpected grandeur. Soaring walls filled with calligraphy flanked steps leading to a pair of massive double doors clad in shimmering beaten gold. Dark blue lapis inset in the gold formed a pair of Seeing Eyes, a great guardian keeping watch…or passing judgment. The effect was both stunning and humbling. Struck by the weight of the moment, Kath clutched her stone gargoyle, sending a silent prayer to Valin.

  A pair of blue-robed monks with quarterstaffs flanked either side of the doors. Nodding to Master Rizel, they tugged the massive doors open. Kath felt the master’s stare. “This way,” he gestured for her to go first. Taking a deep breath, she passed between the Seeing Eyes, entering a large square room. Sunlight flooded the chamber, illuminating the floor. The near half was golden, warm and welcoming, but the far half was a raised dais of deep midnight blue. The implications of the divided floor were chilling. So this was the room where the outside world met the inner mysteries. Drawn like iron to a lodestone, Kath crossed the golden floor to stand on the border between gold and blue. A short ornate railing bumped against her shins, a reminder not to step onto the forbidden blue.

  Behind her, Master Rizel said, “So you are drawn to our mysteries.”

  Kath could only nod, taking in the wonders of the chamber.

  Beyond the railing, a great folding screen dominated the dais. Made of dark blue lapis, the screen was inlaid with faceted crystals and fine strands of gold. Clear crystals set in the patterns of the stars glowed like diamonds in the midnight sky, the fine gold wire outlining each constellation. Over seven-feet tall and more than twice as wide, the screen formed a map of the heavens, a treasure like none Kath had ever seen.

  “The Star Screen is one of the master works of the monastery. Come and see the other.”

  Turning from the screen,
Kath discovered an immense pane of glass dominating the opposite wall, but this was no mere window. Impossibly large and flawless in its clarity, the glass pane formed a seamless part of the mage-stone wall. Kath joined the master at the window. His voice carried a hint of pride. “Made of rare mage-glass, the window is transparent rock, one of the few of its kind.” Kath glimpsed the town of Haven nestled in the valley below, looking small and insignificant, like a child’s toy set amongst the fallow fields. “The Window of the Gods reminds us of how the Lords of Light view us mortals.” Pausing, he added, “The gods have a very different view of the mortal world.”

  Kath shivered, gripped by a sudden insight, “Nothing more than pieces on a chessboard.”

  The master smiled, the light dancing in his blue eyes. “Perhaps, but each piece that serves the Light is given the freedom to choose their own moves. Never underestimate the power of choice.”

  The great golden doors swung silently open and Kath heard familiar voices. A pair of blue-robed monks escorted Sir Blaine and Sir Tyrone into the chamber. The sight of the knights in their octagon surcoats sent waves of gratitude through Kath. She rushed to greet them, glad to have them by her side.

  “We thought the knights should know the enemy they face.”

  The master’s words held an ominous chill. Kath turned towards him. “What enemy?”

  “You’ll know soon enough.”

  His face told her she’d get no more from him. “What of my other companions?”

  “They have come to the monastery for different reasons, different fates.”

  Kath did not like being separated from Jordan and Duncan and the seahorse knight, but now was not the time to argue.

  The deep note of a gong shivered through the chamber.

  Master Rizel gestured toward a pile of embroidered pillows strewn across the floor in front of the star screen. “Please be seated. The Grand Master will be with you shortly.” Bowing, he followed the other monks towards the golden doors.