Cam gave Wilym and Kellen a shortened version of the letter as he folded it and slipped it beneath his tunic. “By rights, I should be at Brunnfen with Renn and Captain Lange. He’s hardly more than twenty summers old, and he’s already managed to outfox Alvior twice—once as his prisoner, and now foiling his return.” Cam shook his head. “I feel wrong to claim the title of Lord of Brunnfen and let my little brother protect the manor.”
Wilym clapped Cam on the shoulder. “It’s no shame to leave your manor in the care of another to serve your king, and by the Lady, Isencroft needs you here with the army.”
Cam sighed. “I know I had no other choice, but it doesn’t mean my conscience rests any easier. Renn’s smart and tough, and Captain Lange has the experience Renn lacks. I don’t doubt that Alvior will make more attempts to return there. We found a secret room he’d outfitted for a mage, and by the look of it, a dark summoner. Renn and I destroyed all of the equipment that we dared and managed to get one of the Sisterhood mages to cart off the rest of the magical items. But I regret leaving Renn to defend it on his own.”
Wilym chuckled. “I happen to know Vyn Lange. His garrison has a reputation for doing the impossible against the odds—as I’m betting you well know. You’ve hardly left your brother to handle the threat alone, backed up by several hundred of the toughest soldiers in Isencroft. So let your conscience rest and keep your mind on our problems here.”
“We have enough to keep us busy, don’t we?”
Wilym’s smile faded as he sobered. “That’s the Goddess’s own truth. As soon as Alvior and the Temnottans regroup, I think we’ll have our hands full.”
Chapter Eleven
Kiara Sharsequin Drayke, Queen of Margolan and Isencroft, shivered in the cold autumn rain. It was past the midnight bells, and she was sore from riding. Her traveling cloak was long ago soaked through by the wet fog, and though she wore a woolen tunic and trews beneath her cloak, she was chilled to the bone. Cerise looked equally miserable, huddled in her sodden cloak. Jae rode behind Kiara, perched on the packs behind her saddle, and the gyregon scolded the weather with hisses. Royster seemed unfazed by the rain, and he hummed a ditty under his breath. Of all of them, Royster seemed happiest about their journey; he had jumped at the chance to extend his sabbatical by accompanying Kiara to Isencroft, eager to witness the war for his chronicles.
“Not too much farther. Look, from this hill, you can see the palace city, maybe the lights of Aberponte itself.” Balaren, one of Kiara’s new companions, urged her to nudge her weary horse up to the summit. Kiara sidled her horse up beside Balaren for a clear view. She gasped.
“Something’s very wrong,” Kiara said, looking out over the expanse. “Look there! Part of the city is on fire!”
The rest of her traveling companions clustered closer to see. Dense smoke poured from the northernmost corner of the old walled city. Across the valley, the muffled sounds of shouting carried on the night air.
Balaren turned back to Kiara with a worried expression. “Under normal circumstances, I would suggest spending the night at an inn and making the rest of the journey by daylight, but we’re too close to the palace for you to risk being recognized.” He paused. “I’d thought about suggesting that one of us,” he said, indicating the other vayash moru, “fly you past the city and palace walls and get you safely into Aberponte through a balcony, but since we’ve had the warning from Lord Vahanian that some of the vayash moru have joined the enemy, the palace defenses will be set against us ‘dropping in.’ ”
Kiara saw a mix of concern and determination in the faces of the other riders. She had left Shekerishet accompanied by seven mortal soldiers, three vayash moru bodyguards, and three vyrkin. The Margolan men-at-arms had delivered her to small group of Isencroft soldiers who had awaited her covert crossing at the border. While Kiara did not know the Isencroft soldiers personally, Balaren, one of the vayash moru, could vouch for them. Kiara shivered beneath her cloak. She was grateful that Balaren and the other vayash moru and vyrkin would remain with her at Aberponte for as long as she stayed in Isencroft. Her hand dropped to her belly as she added a fervent prayer to the goddess that her stay in her homeland would end before it was time to deliver this new heir.
“You’re right,” Kiara conceded. “We don’t dare stop so close to the city. If that’s the case, then let’s ride, as I’d like to be out of the weather as soon as possible.”
They headed for the city riding three abreast, with Kiara safely on the inside. The road was rutted from heavy travel and recent rains, splashing mud onto their cloaks with every step of their horses. You’ve gotten spoiled, Kiara chided herself as her teeth chattered. Remember what it was like when you rode with Tris to take back the throne? You were cold and wet enough times then, going without meals and hunted by Jared’s soldiers. You’ve survived worse.
It took another candlemark’s ride before they reached the outskirts of the newer section of town, the buildings that had sprung up over the past hundred years outside the ancient city walls. The light from the windows of the buildings that hunched along the sides of the street could not compensate for the heavy fog and the lack of moonlight, and the shadows seemed ominously dark. But the feeling of dread, of anticipation of a coming storm, had little to do with the rain, Kiara thought. The whole city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. And Kiara felt it in her gut that whatever was in the offing wasn’t going to be good.
“Can’t imagine how anything manages to burn in this weather,” Balaren murmured. The streets were nearly empty, but it felt to Kiara as if eyes watched them from every window that they passed.
“Ho, there. State your business.” Two guardsmen stepped from the shadows, blocking their way.
Kiara fidgeted as Captain Remir, one of the Isencroft bodyguards, edged his horse slightly in front of the group. “We have urgent business at the palace. We travel at the summons of the Regent.”
“You’re out past curfew,” the guardsman barked. “Do you have papers to show for yourselves?”
Remir dismounted and dug into his pouch for the letters of passage Count Renate had sent for them. Kiara kept her head down. Things must be even worse than father told me, if the palace city is under curfew and papers are required to travel. It’s as if the city itself is under siege.
The guardsman studied the papers so long that Kiara wondered if the man could read. Finally, he returned the documents to Remir and waved them through. “Stay on the main road if you know what’s good for you. There’s been trouble in the north ward tonight. The sooner you’re inside the walls, the better.” He stepped aside for them to pass, but Kiara felt the guardsman’s gaze on them as they filed past.
Kiara looked around as they passed through the outer city’s narrow streets. It looked as if a war had recently been fought in its alleys and ginnels. Some blocks of buildings were untouched, while others bore the obvious scars of recent fires. More than once, she spotted crude slogans scratched onto the brick with charcoal or cut into the wood with knives. Misspelled and profane, they called for a “free” kingdom and the end of a “traitor” king. She shivered again, though not from the cold.
Isencroft was hungry from bad harvests, but we hadn’t come apart at the seams when I left. Has so much had time to go wrong just since father’s death?
Twice more they encountered guards who demanded their papers as they wound their way uphill toward Aberponte. At the gates to the walled city, the guardsman returned the papers to Remir and still refused to let them pass.
“Let me see your faces. Papers can be forged.” The guard took down a lantern from under the overhang of the guardhouse roof. He moved in turn from one of Kiara’s companions to the next, but only when he neared her did she guess his true purpose. He’s a mage, she thought. He’s doing his best to truth-sense, or at least check for glamours. Sweet Chenne! It must be dire for things to have come to this.
Kiara kept her head down until the man reached her, hoping that
a quick glimpse would suffice. The guard thrust his lantern close to her, forcing her to jerk back or be burned. His eyes widened as he saw her features, and she feared that he would cry out.
“Please, say nothing,” she hissed.
Whether he recognized her or whether his power recognized the signature of her regent magic, Kiara did not know. To his credit, the man said nothing and kept up the ruse of examining the remaining members of her group before declaring them fit to pass through the gates. On the other side, Kiara heaved a sigh of relief.
“He recognized you.” Balaren’s voice was quiet.
“Apparently.”
“Let’s hope that he’s on our side.”
Aberponte Palace lay at the end of the cobblestone roadway, set on the crest of a hill. Growing up, Kiara had always loved the sight of the palace at nighttime, sitting like a jewel among the stars inside its own set of walls and gardens. Now, although the lights at the windows burned as brightly as ever, Kiara imagined that Aberponte looked worn and beleaguered, as if it hunkered down against not only the weather but the vast darkness of the night itself.
To Kiara’s relief, they passed no more checkpoints until they reached the outer wall of the palace. Once more, Remir showed their papers, but this time, he lowered his cloak, expecting to be recognized. After a terse exchange with the gate guards, Remir swung back up to his mount and motioned them forward. Still in their formation from the road, they approached the palace from the rear, using the servants’ entrance instead of the sweeping front steps and massive entry doors of the palace. This used to be home, Kiara thought. Now, it looks like a fortress fit for a siege.
“Come in, come in!”
Kiara recognized the voice at once, and despite everything, a smile touched her lips as she turned to see Allestyr standing on the steps, barely shielded by the cloak he held over his head. “Your runner arrived a candlemark ago. We’ve been anxious to see that you made it here safely. Now hurry up, before you catch your deaths from the cold.”
Servants rushed to take their horses. Kiara swung down from the saddle, glad that the need for concealment had allowed her the function and relative comfort of traveling in a tunic and trews. Thank the Lady I don’t have to navigate in yards of sodden silk!
Kiara opened the flap on a large saddlebag, and Jae climbed out, hissing his dislike for his hiding place. “Sorry, but we had to hide you,” Kiara chuckled. “You’re the only gyregon in Isencroft.”
Yet even here, on the steps to the palace, Kiara sensed that Allestyr was holding back, and it made a growing knot in her stomach clench even tighter. What’s gone so wrong that Allestyr fears to speak to me in front of the palace staff?
Inside, Tice met them and servants came to take their wet cloaks. “Allestyr, what—” Kiara began, but Allestyr gave her a warning shake of the head.
“Let’s give you a chance to get out of your traveling clothes and into something dry,” Allestyr said. “I’ll have some refreshments brought to your father’s sitting room. You can join us there after you’ve refreshed and changed.”
Kiara looked to Balaren and the rest of the vyrkin and vayash moru who had accompanied her. “These men came with me from Margolan as bodyguards. They’re vayash moru and vyrkin, sworn to protect me. Since Margolan dared send no soldiers across the border, this was the compromise.”
“I’ll have the servants see to their accommodations,” Allestyr said. “We have rooms in the cellars that should suit for the vayash moru. I’ll have the cook draw blood from the herd animals and prepare some raw meat for our vyrkin guests.” He gave a small bow. “We appreciate your efforts to bring our queen home safely.”
Balaren smiled, making his eye teeth plain. “We’re honored to serve.”
Captain Remir looked to Allestyr. “My men will remain on guard. We’ll take shifts to clean up and eat, so that the queen is never without protection.”
Allestyr nodded. “Thank you.” He met Kiara’s gaze. “After what happened to your father, we’ve had mages sweep your room for any type of traps, magical or otherwise. I’ve taken the precaution to limit the servants who access your room to half a dozen, those who have been in our employ the longest and whom the mages have assured me are loyal. They’ve been given charms against magic, to prevent anyone from bewitching them. To be cautious in the extreme, I’d like to limit your personal assistants to just Cerise and Tarra, my niece.”
“Thank you,” Kiara replied tiredly. “That will be fine.”
Kiara had the odd feeling of being a guest in her own home as she followed a servant upstairs. Captain Remir and his guards followed at a respectful distance. As the servant showed them to their rooms, Kiara realized that the only retainers she had seen were people who had been in the service of her father for decades. Allestyr’s not taking any chances with the loyalties of newcomers, Kiara thought. She sighed. Having to watch over her shoulder for threats within the palace as well as on the battlefield was a reality of war, but it stripped the last remnants of happiness out of her homecoming.
Too large to perch for long on Kiara’s shoulder and too constrained by the stairway’s walls to fly, Jae scurried up the steps behind them, his claws scratching on the stone steps as his compact, reptilian body undulated with the movement. The group fell silent as they were shown to their rooms.
Kiara closed the door as Cerise and Jae hurried inside. Servants had already placed their travel bags on the floor near the fireplace. A young woman with long, curly red hair was laying out a tray of cheese, hard sausage, bread, and warmed wine. There was even a small bowl of raw meat for Jae. She smiled as they entered, and made a low curtsey.
“Your Majesty. I’m Tarra. Uncle Allestyr asked me to attend you.”
Despite how tired she was from the ride, Kiara managed a smile. Tarra was noble-born, as was Allestyr, and she had been around the palace for as long as Kiara could remember. “Thank you, Tarra. It’s good to see you again.”
“I’m pleased that Your Majesty remembers me,” Tarra replied with a grin. “Now I’d best leave you to your food and a hot bath, but I’ll be back in a candlemark to check on you, and father’s put Cerise and me in rooms on either side of yours, so you can call for us if you need to.” Tarra slipped out of the room, and Kiara threw herself down into a chair near the fire. Jae curled up on the hearth next to her feet.
“Can you believe it, Cerise? Riots and fire in the palace city. Father’s barely been gone for a full month, and everything is coming undone.”
Cerise moved to stand behind Kiara, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s more correct to assume that everything had started to come undone before your father’s death. Knowing the king, I suspect that he kept the worst from you, hoping that it would end before you had reason to return to Isencroft.”
Kiara stared into the dancing flames of the fireplace. The exhaustion of the hurried trip and the realization of just how desperate the situation in Isencroft had become all crashed down on her at once. “But we’re in the thick of it now, aren’t we?” she murmured quietly.
She turned in her seat to look up at Cerise. “Father had been king for decades. He stared down King Radomar’s threat of war with Eastmark. He fought raiders on the western border. How can I hope to rule Isencroft as well as he did, with war and revolution on our doorstep?”
Cerise came around to kneel next to Kiara’s chair and she took Kiara’s hands in hers. “I’m sure Tris felt much the same way when he accepted the crown of Margolan. After all, his father, Bricen, was legendary, even before his death.”
Kiara nodded. “Even with all of Tris’s magic, he couldn’t imagine ever being as good a king as his father was.” She swallowed hard. “And yet, he’s found his way, hasn’t he?”
“Tris is a fine king,” Cerise consoled. “He’s wise and just, and he cares about what’s best for his people. He may not approach problems exactly as Bricen did, but he has gifts Bricen did not. It’s not about stepping into your father’s shoes,
Kiara. It’s about finding your own path to rule with the gifts you’ve been given.”
“It’s just so… overwhelming. Father might have easily lived another twenty years. I had hoped—”
“That twenty years from now you’d know just what to do?” Cerise chuckled. “Fate doesn’t allow for our choosing, Kiara. And truth be told, we’re never ready for some responsibilities. We just have to do the best we can when they fall to us.”
Kiara squeezed Cerise’s hands. “Thank you for coming back with me. I know the ride was hard on you.”
Cerise stood slowly, leaning on the arm of Kiara’s chair for support. “My old bones don’t take the cold as well as they used to, nor the saddle. But after a hot bath, I warrant that I’ll feel fit again.” She eyed Kiara. “Speaking of which… I hear the chambermaid drawing a bath for you. Go take it. You’ll feel better, and you wouldn’t want to be crowned queen covered with mud from the road!”
Kiara rose and glanced around the room. In many ways, the room appeared unchanged from when she had lived at the palace. The personal items she left behind remained in their usual places. And yet, Kiara felt as if the room had become unfamiliar, although she could not put the feeling into words. Home, she realized, had become Shekerishet, with Tris and Cwynn.
Kiara permitted Cerise to hurry her toward the tub in the adjacent chamber, but although she tried to let the steaming water and fragrant bath salts clear her mind, she found that she was as troubled afterward as before.
A candlemark later the group reconvened behind locked and guarded doors in the king’s private sitting room. Allestyr turned to Kiara with a welcoming smile.
“How I wish I were seeing you under better circumstances, my dear!” Allestyr and Tice both gave a token bow and then embraced her as old friends as Remir and the others stood back. Kiara introduced Royster, who barely contained his excitement despite the long journey. Antoin and the vayash moru and vyrkin guards patrolled the corridor outside the room, giving Captain Remir’s men a much-needed opportunity to eat and rest. For the first time in several days, Kiara struggled to choke back tears, trying hard not to think about all that had changed since she had last been inside the palace walls.
The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two Page 16
