Dark Haven cotn-3

by Gail Z. Martin

  "I would if it were up to me."

  Carina barely stifled a laugh. "Admit it, Kiara. It had to catch up with you someday. Even Jonmarc finally learned to dress for court.. Maybe he could give you some tips on where to hide weapons when they won't let you wear a sword."

  "There's something to be said for armor," Kiara muttered. "Find a set that fits and stick with it. Wear it day in and day out. Why can't Tris and I just be the way we were on the road—two nobodies from nowhere?"

  "You mean the 'good old days' on the road—being chased by Jared's guards, sleeping in tombs and burnt-out cellars, cold and hungry and always looking over our shoulders—?"

  "At least we were dressed comfortably!" Kiara knew she was being unreasonable, but it was satisfying enough to remain so. Jae roused himself and waddled over, hoping for a treat. Kiara stroked his scaly neck, and he made a clicking sound in contentment.

  "Riding in all kinds of weather, making cold camp in the forest," Carina went on. "Oh, and did I forget nearly drowning in the Nu River and that lovely little side trip to the Nargi camp? You missed the slavers. Face it, Kiara. You and Tris had higher bounties on your heads than Jonmarc—not exactly 'two nobodies from nowhere.'"

  "You're right. But nobody drilled me on etiquette, no one fussed over my clothes..."

  "And you still managed to land the most eligible bachelor in the Seven Kingdoms."

  "You know very well that just sort of happened." She gave a wicked smile. "And given the number of people chasing us, maybe 'most sought after' is a better description."

  "Maybe once you get the wedding out of the way it won't be so bad," Carina said, pulling up a chair. "All the nobles will go back to their manors for the winter. Maybe.you can go back to riding and practicing in the salle all you like."

  "They'll hardly take to their queen walking around the palace in sensible, comfortable tunic and trews like a hired hand."

  "It never bothered Tris."

  "I'm worried about him, Carina. I know father isn't telling me everything he hears," Kiara said.

  "Did you find out who his.new spy is?"

  Kiara shook her head. "Jared killed Mostyn, who had been there long enough that everyone at court probably knew he was Isencroft's man. Father installed this one after he was well enough to take back his duties: I even asked father directly—he said he had no intention of withdrawing the person once I was married and didn't want to put me at cross-loyalties between my husband and my father." She snorted. "More likely he wants to keep an eye on me."

  "I've also been thinking about mother," Kiara said. "She was only sixteen when she married father. Goddess! I don't know how she got the courage! She was almost five years younger than I am now, and she didn't know father nearly as well as I know Tris."

  "Spending a year on the road with someone does that for you."

  "As you well know yourself. You can't tell me that you aren't looking forward to seeing Jonmarc again at the wedding." She grinned. "Didn't I see a vayash moru messenger just a few days ago with a letter from Dark Haven?" Carina fingered the silver pendant at her throat, her gift from Jonmarc. "Kiara, how can I leave Donelan—and you—for such a long time?" "Father's well again."

  "Royal births follow royal weddings," Carina retorted.

  "Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves here?"

  "Kiara, I think Jonmarc means to ask me to marry him."

  "Did you just figure that out? Of course he does. Go to Dark Haven. And when he asks you to marry him, say yes. I have Cerise and Malae. They're both moving to Margolan to look after me. Cerise was mother's healer. Malae's looked after me since I was born. It's time for you to have your own life." Jae nuzzled her shoulder; Kiara dug into a pouch at her belt to withdraw a bit of dried meat, which the gyregon tossed up into the air, then snapped in mid fall.

  Carina stood and walked over to the window. "The other hard part is leaving Cam," she said. "The only time we've ever been apart was last year. I missed him terribly. Why do I feel as if I'm letting him down by leaving again?"

  "Have you talked to Cam about it?"

  "I know I should have. But I keep putting it off."

  "I doubt Jonmarc was intending to have a chaperone." Kiara grinned. "I've noticed Cam's spending quite a bit of time with the brewer's daughter. Maybe it's time for both of you to settle down."

  On the way back from healing Kiara, Carina slowed as she passed Cam's door. She drew a deep breath and knocked. "Cam? It's me." She swung the door open. As usual, Cam's room was a complete mess.

  "How's Kiara?"

  "Kiara's fine. I was checking in on you."

  Carina declined his offer of cakes

  "Suit yourself," he said, and wolfed down several. "What's on your mind?"

  "Things are just moving so quickly. Tris's coronation. Now the wedding. All the troubles here. And me, heading for Dark Haven."

  Cam took Carina's hand. "I'm happy for you and Jonmarc, Carina. Really. He's a good man. He loves you. I'm choosy about who marries my sister. He'll do."

  "He hasn't asked yet."

  "Care to place bets? He's had his eye on you for a long time."

  Carina fingered the sleeve of her robe. "It was hard, being away from you last year. Not knowing where you were or whether you were alive. I tried not to let on to the others—there was so much at stake and we were in so much danger. But I missed you so much."

  "I missed you, too." Cam squeezed her hand. "But maybe it was a good thing. We needed to learn to stand by ourselves. We can still visit. And besides," he said with a grin, "while you were adventuring, I just may have found the girl of my dreams. A pretty redhead whose father is a brewer. Now that would be a match made by the Goddess!"

  Carina kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you."

  "Go on. Get packed. And make sure you're ready for this evening—I've been past the kitchen and cook's making a dinner that should have the ghosts drooling!"

  Haunts began at midnight. Bonfires burned in a long line toward the horizon, commemorating Isencroft's war dead. Inside the palace, the smell of roasting game filled the air. Venison, rabbit, and wild boar would be on the night's menu, along with roasted vegetables, hot wassail, and a stunning variety of cakes and pastries. Isencroft's army, renowned for its ferocity despite its small size, marched in the courtyard to the beat of drummers and the skirl of pipes. Bonfires dotted the hillsides. Every family that had lost someone to battle lit their own fires to invite the souls of the departed closer, or to honor the memory of the dead. In the castle bailey a huge bonfire roared in memory of those lost in battle whose bodies had not returned to Isencroft. People from all parts of the kingdom made the journey to the palace to place a bit of wood or pottery into the fire in memory of a lost loved one, inviting the ghosts to return home and take their rest.

  The night began with a display of acrobatics and feats of strength. The highlight of the feast would take place the next afternoon at the royal joust, an event that spanned from noon to supper with matches between the kingdom's best fighters. Now, as Kiara and Donelan sat in the royal carriage amid the procession to the river, Kiara looked out at the blazing bonfires with sadness.

  "Your thoughts are elsewhere," Donelan said.

  Kiara smiled. "Just wondering when I'll celebrate again in Isencroft."

  The carriage jostled over cobblestones, moving slowly as the crowd pressed against it. The streets were filled with revelers, men and women outlandishly costumed in the eight faces of the Lady. Some stumbled drunkenly through the streets, pushing and bumping past the soldiers who escorted the king's carriage in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. Cam walked along the right side of the carriage, and another guard kept pace on the left.

  Kiara pulled her heavy cloak around her, but she was still cold. She buried her hands in her fur muff and shivered. "How long until we reach the river?"

  Donelan glanced out of the window. "I'd tell you if I could see anything but the crowd. Not long."

  They could hear the distant soun
d of the palace bells. Gradually, the road widened as the procession left the city and headed down toward the Koltan River. The Koltan flowed from Isencroft's highlands into the Nu. Legend told that the souls of fallen warriors followed the river into the sea, where Chenne awaited them.

  On the banks of the river lay a funeral boat. An effigy lay inside, representing Isencroft's battle fallen. The carriage stopped; Donelan stepped out and turned to give Kiara a hand down. A light snow was falling, and an icy crust on the ground crunched beneath their boots. A military drummer beat a somber rhythm as pipers played. Despite the cold, a huge crowd waited along the river banks. Two soldiers stepped forward, handing lit torches to both Kiara and Donelan. Side by side, they walked toward the effigy in the boat. Not far beyond, the Koltan flowed, dark and swift, toward the sea.

  Donelan lifted his torch and turned to face the crowd. "Tonight we honor our fallen. When the raiders came, when the kingdoms invaded, the soldiers of Isencroft never wavered. We remember those who died in battle, and we wish their souls rest in the Lady."

  The crowd murmured their assent. Kiara could see how tired her father was. The torchlight did not hide the strain in his face. Isencroft fought back armies twice her size. But even the army can't combat years' of poor harvests. We've been so proud of our independence. I understand why the idea of a joint kingdom isn't well received, but Goddess! The alternative's starvation.

  Donelan laid his torch against the effigy. The boat, filled with straw, began to burn. Kiara added her torch to the flames..-

  "May the spirits of our fallen remain with us, to watch over the kingdom to which they pledged their lives and honor," Kiara said. Four soldiers used long poles to push the burning boat into the dark waters of the Koltan River.

  One of the musicians lifted his voice in a traditional song for the dead. The crowd moved toward the shore to watch as the boat slipped into the darkness. Kiara began the walk back toward the carriage.

  "Isencroft independent!" a man's voice shouted. Kiara caught just a glimpse of a figure leaping toward her. Torchlight glinted on a knife blade. Before the guards could react, the man had tackled Kiara, stabbing his blade into her chest.

  Kiara kicked hard. The man staggered backward. Cam tackled the assailant, crushing the wiry man to the ground as guards crowded around them. More guards circled Kiara as Donelan ran to her, dropping to his knees beside her.

  "Kiara!"

  Kiara groaned. "It's all right."

  Donelan reached for the tear in her cloak where the knife had penetrated. He looked down at his hands, baffled, when they came away bloodless. "I don't understand—"

  Around them, guards shouted for the crowd to disperse; revelers shouted and cried out at the attack. Kiara managed a smile and pulled her cloak open to reveal a leather breastplate over her gown. "It doesn't match the bodice, but I thought it might be wise."

  Donelan shook his head. "Have I told you how proud I am of you?" She held out a hand and he helped her up. The knife had made a deep cut into the leather, but had not gone through. Even so, Kiara would be bruised both from the attack and from the fall.

  The guards were already wrestling the attacker away. Soldiers herded the crowd back up the hill. Drummers and pipers seemed determined to drown out conversation with their music. "Did you hear what he said? 'Isen-croft independent.'" Kiara shuddered.

  "I imagine we'll find that he has ties to the divisionists. The sooner you leave for Mar-golan, the better."

  The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, save that the royal bodyguard was doubled. Principality arrested us with fewer guards, Kiara thought grimly. It's hard to tell the difference between being protected and being held prisoner.

  Donelan and Kiara agreed privately that it would be best, considering the circumstances, for both of them to keep their traditional roles in the feast. Kiara made the requisite toasts and clapped at the entertainers, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The feast ended at dawn; Kiara had never felt so relieved to see the guests depart. Maybe I'll be able to get into the spirit tomorrow for the joust, she thought. Tonight, I want nothing more than a warm brandy and a hot poultice.

  Donelan and Tice waited in Kiara's private sitting room while Carina attended to Kiara's injuries. Make bustled about, offering tea or cakes, and finally sitting nervously by the fire.

  In the privacy of Kiara's bedroom, Carina helped Kiara out of her gown. Kiara winced as she lifted her arms. "You didn't tell me you were going to wear armor," Carina chided gen-tly.

  "You didn't ask. After what happened to Jonmarc at Winterstide, I thought it might be a good idea." She managed a grin. "And it felt good knowing how much I'd vex the dressmaker, covering up his creation with a cuirass!"

  Carina turned the cuirass over in her hands. "From the strength of the blow, you'd be dead if you hadn't worn this." She let her hands slip over Kiara's shoulders and chest. "No wonder you're sore. He might not have cut you, but he's broken a rib."

  "That explains why it hurts so much to breathe."

  Kiara tried not to fidget as Carina worked, knitting the broken bones and healing the deep bruise. Cerise mixed a powder into a hot cup of water and gave it to Kiara. "Here. Drink this. Even with the healing, you'll be sore for a while. The bruise should be gone by the wedding, and the rib should be nearly healed."

  "I'd been looking forward to tonight," Kiara said, holding the warm cup close to smell the fragrant herbs. "I expect everything to be different once I go to Margolan. I didn't realize that now, Isencroft is different, too."

  Cerise sat on the side of her bed. "Times change. Nothing stays the same."

  "I never expected my wedding to create problems like this. It's hardly new—I've been betrothed to the heir to Margolan's throne since I was born."

  "But when the pact was made, we didn't know you'd be the only heir to Isencroft's throne. Originally, the marriage didn't create a joint kingdom. Years of drought and poor harvests did that. Isencroft's a proud country. We've fought Margolan in the past to remain independent. Some people see the marriage as handing over what many soldiers died to protect."

  Kiara sipped at the tea. "Can't they see how bad things have gotten? We can't go on like this."

  "People see what they want to see," Donelan said from the doorway. "Personally, I'm glad to see you worrying about policy. That means you're feeling better."

  Kiara held out a hand. Donelan leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Have they learned anything from the attacker?" Kiara asked.

  "Not as much as they hoped. Looks like he acted on his own—although he's hardly the only one to hold those ideas."

  "I should have reacted faster. I should have blocked him."

  "Even the guards didn't see it coming. Don't blame yourself. You're a fine fighter, Kiara. But you're not going to be able to rely on your skill alone. Once you and Tris are married, there'll be more than the usual pressure for an heir—especially if Tris plans to fight the rebel lord in the Southern plains. If there's truth to the rumors that Jared sired a bastard, the need for a legitimate heir will be even stronger. Excellent fighter though you are, my dear, you cannot—dare not—engage in single combat when you bear the child of the king." Donelan looked away. "Tris will be more vulnerable until the child is born. Some people would profit if he were to die in battle without an heir, or without an heir of legal age. In Margolan, you won't be able to rule from behind the throne as you did in Isencroft."

  Kiara felt her stomach twist into a knot. We may have been safer in hiding among the vayash moru than we'll be in the open inside Shekerishet!

  "What of Trevath and Nargi?"

  "Both lands have challenged Margolan's borders. Both have formidable armies. Curane's holdings are near the Trevath border. While I doubt Trevath will be so bold as to send troops to his aid, it'll be near enough that Trevath can see the strength of Margolan's troops and decide whether the time is right to strike. I doubt Tris could be victorious in a full war with Trevath just now."

  "And Nargi?"r />
  "Nargi and Trevath agree only on their hatred of Margolan. If Trevath decides that Margolan's army is weak, an alliance between Nargi and Trevath to strike and divide the spoils would almost certainly be successful."

  "And if Margolan fell? What of Isencroft?"

  Donelan gave a short, bitter laugh. "Isen-croft's fate is now tied to Margolan. Our allies are on the far side of Margolan. If Margolan falls to Nargi and Trevath, Principality, East-mark, and Dhasson would have their own share of problems. They won't rescue us. The raiders from the West or from across the Northern Sea would almost certainly return within a season."

  "So all our fates may turn on a single decision," Kiara said.

  Donelan met her eyes. "Or a single arrow."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "ARE WE ready?" Lord Curane looked up at the small group that surrounded his table.

  In the center of the table was a large map showing the manor house of Lochlanimar and the southern plains of Margolan. Wooden markers stood where the Margolan army would soon camp. The five men looked at each other and then back and him and nodded.

  "As ready as we'll ever be." Cathal, Lord Curane's seneschal, answered him.

  "Except?"

  "Sieges are unpredictable things, m'lord. Many things can go wrong."

  "That's what we have the mages for."

  Cathal pursed his lips, carefully considering his words. "True enough. But it's easier to be the siege-bringer than the besieged. Once an army is encamped, our options will be limited."

  Curane's voice made his annoyance clear. "We have provisions enough for months. The springs beneath the manor give us ample fresh water. The issue isn't our readiness—it's theirs. An army's vulnerable while it sets up camp. We can strike early and take them off.guard. The Margolan army is in tatters; its king is barely more than a boy. "

  "He's a Summoner." General Drostan's gravelly voice commanded attention. "Martris Drayke did, after all, defeat King Jared's armies and Foor Arontala. He overcame the Obsidian King and laid the spirits of the Ruune Videya forest to rest. It would be dangerous to underestimate him."