He gave a sad smile. “I know. Elsbet is well and truly gone to her rest. Don’t you think two hundred years is long enough to grieve? I don’t want you to be Elsbet. I like Aidane just fine.”
Kolin leaned forward and kissed her gently. She moved closer and returned the kiss. He drew back and cupped her cheek gently with his hand. “I want to make sure you understand my gift. I’m not trying to bed you, Aidane. I want more than that. I love you.”
Aidane blinked back tears at this unexpected and overwhelming admission. “I love you too,” she murmured. She glanced up. “But I didn’t know the custom. Nargi doesn’t keep Sohan. I don’t have a gift for you.”
Kolin’s blue eyes were bright. “I hadn’t dared hope that you felt the same for me. If you truly do, that’s gift enough,” he said, as he drew her to him to kiss her again.
When they drew apart, Aidane looked up at him. “Can you stay until it’s time to get ready for the feast?”
Kolin shook his head. “Afraid not. The queen asked me to take care of a few things for her before the formalities. I’ll be back in time to escort you down to the great room.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to see you in the gown Berry sent for you.”
“You know about that?”
His smile widened. “I helped her choose it.” With that, Kolin excused himself and left to take care of the queen’s business, leaving Aidane alone with her tea. But to her chagrin, as soon as he left, the voices of the ghosts crowded around her.
The onslaught of spirits had begun days ago, during the preparations for Sohan. As the Festival of Changes grew closer, the voices had grown more numerous and more insistent. Others might focus on the seasonal shift from fall to winter, or from autumn-planted seeds to the expected spring crops, but for Aidane, the change most apparent at this time was the ever-present cycle of life and death. She wondered if seers, mediums, hedge witches, and summoners also felt the restless dead most strongly on such feast nights, and how they managed to keep the dead at bay.
Her own protective measures were not sufficient. She had tried warding with salt, and it had done well enough to keep the spirits from taking form in her room, but their voices called to her across the threshold, begging for help.
I’m not really the right person, Aidane thought tiredly. Spirits did not sleep, and lately, neither had Aidane, unable to shut out the ghostly voices that called to her. I’m a ghost whore, and if their loved ones are dying, it’s definitely the wrong time to arrange a tryst.
It’s a message we seek, not trysting. The voice came from the sad-eyed ghost of a young woman whom Aidane guessed to be in her late twenties, just a few years older than Aidane herself. The young woman’s face was already careworn, her eyes tired, and Aidane wondered how many children the ghostly woman had birthed before death found her.
The plague tore us from our families, from the people we love, the woman’s ghost continued. She did not beg for Aidane’s favor, as so many of the other ghosts had done, harrying Aidane’s sleep. Nor did she rail or threaten.
Is that why you linger?
I stayed to watch over my family, and one by one, the plague took them. The last of my children died just two nights ago. I saw them all to their rest in the arms of the Lady.
Yet you stay behind. Why?
My husband is the only one left alive. He grieves us, and he doesn’t know that I watch him from afar. It’s not for a… joining… that I want your help. Just to go to him, to tell him that the children rest with the Lady, and that I’ll wait for him, until his time comes.
Aidane shook her head, and then feigned a cough, fearing the maid would think her mad for conversing with “empty” air. There are too many of you. I can’t—
Please, m’lady. My husband is a groomsman in the stable, here at the palace. T’will take but a few moments of your time. Please, m’lady, I beg of you—
Aidane sighed. The spirit had no true idea of how much it cost Aidane to permit possession, even for something like conversation. But there was something about the ghostly woman that overcame Aidane’s resistance, even though she feared it would just make the other ghosts harder to decline. All right, she conceded. But just a word with him. Nothing more.
Aidane finished her tea and set it down, resigned to go through with her promise. The maid had already left the room, and Aidane lingered a few minutes more to let the servant get ahead of her on the steps before she let herself out of the door. She made her way to the servants’ stairs, rather than the main stairway, all the better to avoid prying eyes. When festivals or official events did not require her to dress the part of a serroquette, Aidane had taken to wearing plain dresses that did not call attention to her or her talent. Queen Berwyn’s welcome had been sincere, and it was the queen who insisted Aidane stay on at the palace, but Aidane was well aware of the whispers and dark glances she received from many at court and tried to remain unnoticed as much as possible.
As Aidane headed for the stables, the ghost remained with her, unseen by others but quite audible to Aidane. The servants’ stairs felt more comfortable to Aidane than the gilt-railed sweeping central staircase. After all, what’s a whore but a different kind of servant, one at the bottom of the pecking order? she thought as she made her way down the steps and across the courtyard to the stables. When she reached the stables, she hesitated. Dozens of men bustled about the large building, tending to the horses, mucking out the stalls, and grooming their precious charges.
There. That’s Jodd.
Aidane followed the ghost’s urging and saw a haggard-looking man who appeared to be a few years older than the ghost. He swept the stable with his eyes downcast and mumbled a terse reply the few times he was spoken to. Aidane waited until he left the busy main area of the stable and followed him around to the back of the building. At first, she feared he had gone outside to relieve himself, but then she saw that he moved a ways down the wall, away from the stable bustle, and took a pipe from his pocket. Stuffing a bit of pipe weed into its bowl, Jodd lit the pipe with a spark and leaned against the wall as if he would have liked to collapse.
Speak to him. Let me in.
Aidane braced herself for the possession and let the ghost fill her. This time, she did not withdraw into her hiding place, since she had no intention of allowing the ghost to go further than a conversation. The ghost’s memories washed over her. The woman’s name had been Detri, and she had four children, all young. Grief, loss, and yearning washed over Aidane like a tide. Let’s get this over with, Aidane said.
“Jodd.” The voice was her own but not hers, and as the man looked up, his eyes widened. He made a sign of warding and looked as if he might bolt or faint.
“Please, don’t go. It’s me, Detri. My… friend… allowed me to use her to speak to you.”
Jodd’s face went pale. “It sounds like Detri, but it can’t be. Detri’s dead.”
The dead woman’s mannerisms came naturally to Aidane, who found herself approaching Jodd with a striding step, the movement of a working woman, not the mincing step of a well-born lady with voluminous skirts and impractical shoes. “I’m dead, that’s true. But I miss you. I helped the children cross the Gray Sea. They’re safe now, in the Lady’s arms. I’ll wait for you.”
The pipe slipped from the man’s fingers. “Will I die, too? Is that what you mean?” His voice rose into a panicked squeak.
“No, Jodd. No.”
“Then what do you mean? An accident? How will I die?”
Aidane could feel the sorrow that filled the ghost and Detri’s frustration at Jodd’s misunderstanding. “May you live a hundred years, my love. I only meant that I’ll wait for you, on the shore of the Gray Sea, until your time comes so we may cross together.”
Jodd considered Detri’s words, and he relaxed a little, losing his panicked expression. “How did you…” His words trailed off, but his meaning was clear as he tried to reconcile Aidane’s appearance with the obvious presence of his dead wife.
“She is a—” Detri
started to say “ghost whore” but Aidane drowned her out with a purposeful cough. “She has a talent with spirits,” Detri said after a stern mental rebuke from Aidane. “Remember me and the children, Jodd. I can’t come to you again, but I’ll watch over you and wait.”
Her message delivered, Detri’s spirit slipped away from Aidane, leaving Aidane momentarily light-headed. Jodd grabbed Aidane’s arm as she turned away.
“Was that some kind of trick?”
Still feeling the effects of the possession, Aidane pulled her arm free, trying not to move too quickly for fear she might faint. “No trick. I have a… way… with spirits.”
Jodd’s eyes narrowed. “Is it true? That Detri will never leave me?”
Aidane saw a trapped look in the man’s eyes that made her heart sink. “That’s what she said.”
Jodd swore. “By the Lady! I’m twenty and nine years old. Am I never to take another wife? Oh, Detri was all right, but we were young and my parents arranged it. I’d have stayed with her, for the children, if things had worked out differently, but now—”
Aidane felt her temper flare. “Now that she and your children are barely cold in their graves, you’ve already given thought to her replacement, is that it?” Aidane had always found that the moments just after a possession faded were difficult emotionally. A side effect of relinquishing control was sharper-than-usual feelings: joy, sorrow, fear. Now, the gap between Detri’s sorrowful faithfulness and Jodd’s desire to remedy his widower status sent a surge of anger through Aidane.
“I’m still alive, aren’t I? I didn’t mean I’d take a wife right away,” he said, taking a step back as he saw the anger in Aidane’s face. “Maybe not till the springtime—”
Aidane spat on the hard-packed dirt. “You don’t deserve Detri. It would serve you right if she crossed the sea without you. Pox take you.” At that, Aidane turned on her heel and left, paying no heed to the sputtering man behind her.
She was so worked up about Jodd’s faithlessness that she did not hear the footsteps behind her until the newcomer was close enough to lay a hand on her shoulder.
“Well, who do we have here?”
It took Aidane a moment to place the man who stood with a firm grip on her shoulder. She had seen him a few times at court and knew him to be the son of one of the lords. After another few seconds, she remembered which lord and felt uneasiness turn to fear. The man had the dark looks of his father, Lord Norden, a man whose coloring spoke of Trevath blood. She had seen Lord Norden make all of the appropriate gestures of support to the queen, yet the few times she had happened by when Norden was talking with his friends, the lord had been a sharp critic of the new queen and her unorthodox champion. From what she had seen of Norden’s son, Antony, he was as critical and cynical as his father.
Aidane tried to shrug out of Antony’s grip, but the young man grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into an alcove where the tack was stored. “Let me go. I have business at the palace.”
“Whore’s business, is it? Friendly with the stable hands, too?” Antony pushed Aidane up against the rough wall of the tack room and let his fingers stroke her cheek. “You’re a pretty little trollop. I bet you’re a feisty wench between the covers.”
“Let me go!” Aidane gave a sharp kick against Antony’s shin, hoping he would drop his hold. He howled in pain but gripped her arm tightly enough to bruise and he slammed her back against the wall.
“You don’t have a choice.” His voice had lost its mock seduction. It had become as hard and cold as Antony’s eyes. “I’m a lord’s son, and you’re just a fancy whore. Now give me some of what you do for your clients, and if I’m satisfied, there might be a gold piece in it for you.”
Antony’s hand fell to her bosom, and Aidane took a sharp breath. The rage she had felt for the faithless Jodd swelled again, and with it, her power surged, drawing all of the woeful spirits to her she heard clamoring outside the city wall. She twisted away from Antony, but he brought his right hand down with a sharp crack across her cheek.
“Just for that, I won’t be gentle, and there’ll be no gold,” he hissed. “Hold still, or I’ll see you thrown out of the palace into the gutter where you belong. You’re an embarrassment to the court. My father can make it expensive for the queen to keep you. Do you really think she’d favor you if the price was her reputation?”
There was no one around to help her; even if someone had come upon them, Aidane doubted any of the servants would raise a hand to stop a lord’s son from having his way with a whore. Desperate, she opened herself to the press of spirits, letting them fill her. Their emotions swept over her, giving her the burst of strength she needed to break free of Antony’s grip. He lunged after her, and she grabbed the first thing that came to hand: a bit and bridle. She swung it hard, catching him across the temple and opening a gash on his forehead. He tore it from her hands and threw it across the room.
Antony cursed and lunged after her, catching her by the ankle. “When I’m done with you, whore, even Buka wouldn’t have enough pieces left to play with.”
The pounding of Aidane’s heart fed the swell of the spirits’ emotions. More spirits crowded to her, thrumming with borrowed energy. Aidane kicked at Antony and landed a heel on his shoulder. He grabbed at her free foot with his other hand, and the pressure was nearly enough to break bone. Aidane felt around desperately for something, anything to fend off her attacker. Her hand fell on one of the metal combs the groomsmen used to curry the horses. With a cry, Aidane used the spirits’ energy to heave Antony away from her, bringing the horse comb down hard on his hand when he reached for her. The sharp tines of the comb sank into his hand, starting a stream of blood.
She scrambled to her feet and ran for the door, yanking it open just barely ahead of Antony.
“I’ll fix you for this,” Antony shouted behind her. “Just wait. I’ll fix you.”
Aidane ran back across the servants’ courtyard and up the back steps. By the time she reached her room, her arm had begun to ache and her eye was starting to swell shut. She closed the door behind her and collapsed against it, sobbing for breath.
I should have known it would come to this. I’m a whore. I don’t belong in a palace. I’ve done everything I can to help the queen; now I’m just a burden, and an embarrassment. The queen’s so young; she doesn’t need trouble from the likes of Lord Norden on top of the war and the Durim.
Aidane took several deep breaths, steadying herself. She looked around the room. A maid had already laid out a dress for her to wear to the Sohan festival this evening. She felt a twinge of regret. The palace celebrations would be filled with magicians and conjurers doing sleight-of-hand tricks and real magic in celebration of the Feast of Changes. Men and women would exchange outfits and go about “changed,” parodying each other. Food, wine, and ale would be plentiful, and musicians would play for their costumed audience until the dawn.
I need to leave. The truth was as clear as it was painful. Lord Norden’s son would not forget that she had bested him. He and his father were well positioned to make trouble at court for Berry. And though Berry had welcomed Kolin, Aidane knew that the welcome for vayash moru was always fragile at best. It wouldn’t take much for the court gossip to turn on Kolin, isolating the queen further. Staying in the palace puts Kolin and the queen at risk. I can’t take the chance that harm will come to them because of me.
Aidane sat down at the writing desk that stood beside the darkened window. Night had fallen, and already, beyond the window, Aidane could see the flickering of newly lit bonfires in the courtyard. Everyone would be busy with the festival. They wouldn’t notice that she was gone until she was far away.
A knock at the door startled her. She ignored it, but the visitor knocked again. “Aidane? It’s Kolin. Let me in.”
Aidane gasped and looked down at her dress. It was dirty and torn from the scuffle in the stable, and she was almost certain her cheek had begun to purple. “I’m not ready,” Aidane called.
“Aidane?”
Aidane moved away from the writing table and turned her back to the door. “Come in.”
She did not turn to look as Kolin entered the room. Other than the click of the latch, he moved soundlessly, though how he managed to keep his boots from betraying his footsteps, she did not know. She smelled warm apple cakes and heard Kolin set something on the table by the fireplace.
“I happened to intercept the servant on her way up with some cakes for the feast night,” Kolin said. “I figured I’d bring them myself, since I was already on the way.”
“Thank you,” Aidane said, still refusing to turn.
Kolin chuckled. “Why so shy all of a sudden?”
“I… don’t feel well. I’m sorry. I’m really not fit for company.”
Kolin was beside her before she ever heard the rush of air that was the only warning of his movement. “What happened, Aidane? Something’s wrong.”
Aidane bit her lip, forcing back tears. “Nothing. Just… feast night jitters. Please, I’ll be all right—”
Kolin touched her shoulder and she winced, the memory of Antony’s grip too fresh in her mind. She let him turn her to face him, saw his expression move from shock to rage, and felt the same lethal coldness that she had glimpsed when she had seen him fight the Durim.
“Who did this?”
“Please, don’t. It’s not important.”
Kolin’s voice was icy. “You are a personal guest of the queen, under her protection. Whoever did this didn’t just injure you; he struck a blow at the queen herself.” But in Kolin’s eyes, Aidane saw something she had never seen before, protectiveness.
Aidane felt the weight of the last few candlemarks come crashing down, overwhelming her reserve. She sank to her knees, holding Kolin’s hand. “Please don’t make a fuss. It’s not so bad. I don’t want to embarrass the queen. Please don’t—”
Gently, Kolin raised her up and met her gaze. He was angry enough to kill, of that, she was certain. “Tell me what happened.”
The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two Page 30
