by K. C. May
The warden led Adro, wrists shackled behind him, up the corridor towards Gavin.
“Gavin Kinshield, my old friend,” Adro said with a cocky smile. “You’re not still angry about that misunderstanding with your wife, are you?”
Gavin’s blood began to heat, and the muscles in his upper body tensed. Every frustration, every shred of guilt he felt for having let his wife be destroyed by his enemy for a second time pulsed through him, and he’d had no release for it. No beyonders to fight, no tavern brawls to partake in, no whores to distract him. Daia was right. Adro had committed a grave offense against the crown, against the whole of Thendylath. It was a crime deserving of death. Gavin had never found slaying a man anything but a despicable necessity, but this time, he would let himself enjoy it. This time, he’d use Adro Fiendsbane as the means for releasing his pent-up anger. No one would ever have to know.
“No,” he said, shaking his head to jar loose those horrible thoughts. A king didn’t kill for pleasure or revenge. A king didn’t take out his frustration on a man who was as much a victim of Cirang’s treachery as Feanna was. He mustn’t blame Adro for his behavior. The kho-bent did as their nature directed. If he could turn Adro back, he’d have a loyal battler at his side once again, one who would work tirelessly to earn back Gavin’s trust.
“He doesn’t have the capacity to feel remorse or guilt,” Cirang said. “Trust me. He’s a menace to everyone.”
Adro clicked his tongue. “Cirang, Cirang, Cirang. Thought we were friends.”
“If this works,” Daia said, “then he’ll be mortified by what he’s done.”
Cirang hung her head. “Yes, that is true.”
“If what works,” Adro asked. “What’s going on?”
“Anyone else?” the warden asked.
“Hapstone,” Gavin said. “You said he’s late for his execution? What were the charges against him?”
“That’s right. He’s a murderer of women and children. He’d as soon kill you as look at you.” The warden went to another cell and banged on it with his fists. “Turn around and present your wrists, Hapstone.”
“You going to beat me, Kinshield?” Adro asked. “Get your revenge?”
“No, I’m going to try to fix you. Turn you back into the decent buck you used to be.”
Adro tossed his head back and laughed. “Decent? I was never a decent buck, you know that. Only pretended to be.”
Gavin knew that wasn’t true. He’d seen Adro’s haze before the water changed it. The man had been remorseful for his errant behavior and worked hard to earn a good reputation and bring honor to his name.
“A warrant tag lifts a lady’s skirt as fast as a knifepoint does,” Adro said.
Daia surprised everyone by snapping a kick into his groin. Adro collapsed to the stone floor, knees together, gasping for breath. “I’ll see that you stop caring what’s under a lady’s skirt.”
“Whoa,” Gavin said, pulling her back by the arm. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Adro’s pain. “Stop. He’s trying to goad you into acting from the kho side o’yourself. That’s what the kho-bent do. Ignore him.”
When the warden brought Hapstone to him, Gavin didn’t recognize him. He turned the man around to get a look at his forearms, curious to see if he’d been branded by anyone Gavin knew, but the initials carved into the tender side were also unfamiliar. It didn’t matter. He’d earned an execution, and he would receive one.
“Where should we do this?” Daia asked. She and Cirang took Adro by the arms and helped him, still cursing Daia under his breath, stand.
“Wherever you keep the chopping block,” Gavin said to the warden. “If the procedure works, I’ll carry out Hapstone’s execution immediately afterwards.”
The warden led them outside, around the building, and into a small yard enclosed within a fence. The gruesome sight before them silenced everyone.
Atop a stone dais was a large block of wood, stained dark brown on the top and sides. On each side of it was an iron ring nailed into the stone. Grooves in the stone were also discolored where they led to the edges of the dais, where spilt blood dripped into buckets.
The warden took Hapstone up the steps onto the dais and made him kneel, then affixed his shackles to one of the iron rings. Cirang led Adro up and locked his shackles to the other ring.
“Don’t do this, Gavin,” Adro said. He didn’t look frightened, merely angry. “Whatever you mean to do, stop or, by the sword of King Arek, I swear I’ll kill you.”
Gavin withdrew the new rune from his knapsack and handed the bag to Cirang. The Nal Disi was inside, and if the procedure worked, he would use it to create some of the tainted water for Adro to drink. “Awright,” he said quietly. “It’s time. Guardians, I need you to guide me in this.”
They faded into view. “We are ready, Emtor.”
Chapter 22
His two prisoners faced each other in front of the chopping block, completely unaware of what was about to happen to them. Gavin couldn’t say he was too far ahead of them in that. He was putting a lot of trust in the Guardians. They’d better not let him down.
The warden said something to one of the gaolers, who ran back into the building, emerging a moment later with a piece of wood, paper, and ink. The warden looked it over before handing it up to Gavin. “This is the attainder for Aldris Hapstone’s death. If you would please sign it, Your Majesty, then we can proceed.”
Gavin signed the document and handed the materials back to the warden. He’d never revoked anyone’s rights before; he’d always slain malefactors when they didn’t submit to his authority as a warrant knight. In fact, Hapstone was the first person Gavin would put to death as king. How many more would he slay before his reign ended? How would people remember him in the years that followed—as a brutal overlord or compassionate king? He would endeavor to make the man’s death quick and painless.
Gavin rubbed his palms on the legs of his trousers. He felt terribly uncertain about this. Though he was confident that the approach would work, and the Guardians had agreed, his confidence wavered when it came to performing the procedure. He’d never done anything perfectly the first time, yet Adro’s life depended on just that.
“What do I do?” he asked.
“You don’t know what you’re doing?” Adro asked with a snort. “You’ve been killing men since you were a boy and now you forget how to execute a man?”
“Shut up, Adro,” Daia said. “He’s trying to fix you, not execute you. Let him concentrate.”
“You pull their essences into the gems,” the Guardians said, “like you did at the wellspring.”
“Do I pull both essences at the same time?”
“Who’s he talking to?” Hapstone asked. “Sounds like a bloody madman.”
Daia leaned across the top of the dais and pointed a finger angrily in his face. “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to gag you both.”
“Yes,” the Guardians said, “it takes great concentration to pull both at once. You can start pulling one, and once you have it flowing, start pulling the other.”
“When do I use the rune?” he asked.
“You use it when both essences are fully contained within the gems.”
“And then I push the essences back in?” he asked, annoyed that he had to ask so many questions. The Guardians could volunteer the information more freely without hurting his feelings.
“No, it is the nature of essence to be contained within a body. You simply release them, and they flow back in on their own.”
“How do I do that?” Gavin asked, growing frustrated. He worried that he didn’t have enough information to try this, and the Guardians weren’t forthcoming to his satisfaction.
“Stop pulling.”
He looked up at the fluffy white clouds overhead, trying to rein in his aggravation. A man’s life was at stake. He had to get this right.
“We understand it is frightening the first time. When you do it, you’ll feel what you need to do.”
“Say the two Elyle who failed,” he snapped. Why was he putting his trust in the Guardians, anyway? After what they’d done to him the night before, he knew that they were not exactly his allies. The muscles in his back were beginning to stiffen and knot, and Gavin realized his proximity to the two kho-bent men was darkening his thoughts. He took a deep, steadying breath and let it out in a rush, fingering the rune in his right hand. “Awright. Guess I won’t get any more ready standing here.” Gavin climbed onto the dais and drew Aldras Gar. By resting the sword’s point on the block of wood, the four gems which formed the snakes’ eyes of the hilt were at chest level.
“Your confidence is inspiring,” Adro said.
“Go on, chop our heads off and get it over with,” Hapstone said.
“Speak for yourself,” Adro snapped.
“Judgin’ by where you sit now, your head ha’n’t done you a whole lot o’good so far,” Hapstone replied.
“Aldris Hapstone, I’m here to carry out your death sentence. First, I’m going to perform a magical procedure that’s intended to bring Adro back to his right mind. When it’s finished, you’ll be beheaded for the crimes you’ve committed against the people of Thendylath.”
“Any last words, Hapstone?” the warden asked.
“No, but I’ll have a last go.” He grinned at Daia and winked.
She touched the tips of her thumb and forefinger to form an O, a gesture ruder than anything she’d have said aloud.
Gavin opened his hidden eye and let his normal vision relax. The two kho-bent hazes before him pulsed and swirled chaotically, making him uncomfortable and irritable. If he didn’t hurry, their khoness would put him in the wrong state of mind to try something so important. He reached with his will to grasp Daia’s orange tendril. The strength of his magic surged with the help of her borrowed power. It was time to begin.
Imagining his magic like a hollow reed, he sucked Hapstone’s smoky, black haze, pulling it into the brown jasper set into the pommel of his sword. Getting it started was like trying to pull Golam by the reins out of a mud pit. With Daia’s help, and with the help of the King’s Bloodstone in his sword, the haze started to flow more easily into the gem, though it still took concentration and effort to keep it going.
“Before you drain it completely,” the Guardians said, “hold it in the gem and pull the other haze.”
The haze in Hapstone’s body was getting dimmer and more difficult to see. He stopped pulling, but then the haze began to flow backwards out of the gem.
“Hold it there, Emtor.”
He was trying, but this wasn’t easy. By applying just enough pull, he found that the flow slowed to a barely perceptible trickle. That would have to do. He was about to start pulling Adro’s when Hapstone collapsed and fell onto his side, cracking his head on the stone dais.
Gavin flinched. Shit. He hadn’t expected his subject to keel over. Was he dead? He couldn’t see whether Hapstone was breathing.
“Emtor, stop pulling. You must concentrate.”
No matter how hard Gavin tried to refocus on his task, he kept thinking about Hapstone’s limp body. No, no, he reminded himself. He had to hurry. He had to fix Adro.
“What’d you do to him?” Adro asked. He started to stand, but his wrists were shackled behind him and affixed to the iron ring between his legs. He stumbled and fell back to his knees. “Someone unchain me.”
“Adro, shut up,” Daia hissed. “Let him focus.”
“Emtor, stop. It is too late. You pulled all the haze and held it too long. The heart has stopped and lividity has begun. The body has started to decompose.”
No, Gavin thought. He went around the chopping block to kneel next to Hapstone’s body, laying Aldras Gar beside him. You can’t die yet, you bastard. He put both hands on the prisoner’s back and clenched his eyes shut, willing the heat of his healing magic to fill his hands. Nothing happened. “Come on.” He laced his fingers together, raised them overhead, and pounded on Hapstone’s back, hoping to shock his heart into beating again.
“Is he dead?” Daia asked.
His hands remained cool. Hapstone didn’t move. “Damn it!” he said. He’d killed a man without meaning to. He’d used his magic to suck the very life out of him.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” she said. “He was going to die today one way or the other.”
“Yeh, well I wasn’t,” Adro said. He let out a loud hoot. “Not today, Kinshield. Not today!”
Chapter 23
The morning brought little in the way of excitement for Feanna compared to her nighttime forays into the secret passages built into the palace. After breaking her fast, she soaked in the tub for a time, making her servants bail out the cooled water and replace it with hot. There was nothing else to do, and by the name of Asti-nayas, she was going to make someone pay for her imprisonment.
When her skin was shriveled, she stepped out and let Eriska dry and dress her in a shift and robe of the softest cotton. Another servant arrived with more water, while three others went about emptying the tub.
“If you’d like to sit here, I’ll do your feet, Your Majesty.”
Feanna relaxed on a cushioned chair with shortened legs. Her handmaiden sat on a stool, facing her. A tray of files and pumices and blades of various thicknesses sat by her side, along with cloths and the two clean water buckets.
“What’s been happening since we’ve been home?” she asked. It was a relief to have someone else care for those whining rapscallions she’d adopted. If she never had to wipe another snot-encrusted nose or hush away their nightmares, she could die happy.
“Well, Lord Edan’s assistant, Pryan, is courting the head laundress, but if I were to guess, he’s more interested in a tumble than a wedding.”
Feanna listened to the rumors for a while and then let her mind drift back to the passages, wondering why the servants didn’t use them. They could move about the palace and do their work without being seen by the royals. Not that she minded—the passageways would be much more difficult for her to navigate if she had to worry about running into servants.
“...Keturah, but she doesn’t mind. They’re nearly the same age, after all.”
“What did you say?” Feanna demanded.
Eriska startled. “Sorry, my queen. I shouldn’t be talking about your girls so casually. You must miss them terribly.”
“What did you say about Keturah?”
Eriska bit her lip, then bent back to scraping callouses from Feanna’s heel. “Oh, it’s nothing. She’s a little girl that Lord Edan took pity on when her mama died from the bite of a rabid dog. Mayhap he thinks you and King Gavin will adopt her. She does look a lot like him.”
Keturah Kinshield was living in her home? This could not be happening. It was an outrage! Surely Edan was going around telling everyone she was Gavin’s bastard. Unless... A smile crept over her. Oh, the mischief she could stir up.
“Do you know why she looks like my husband?” Feanna asked sweetly.
Eriska rubbed the pumice faster. “The family resemblance is plain to see, Your Majesty. Lord Edan says she’s King Gavin’s father’s cousin’s grandchild. That would make her the king’s second cousin once removed, would it not?”
“It would,” Feanna said with a mischievous lilt, “if it were true.”
The girl stopped rubbing and looked up with a disbelieving gape. “Isn’t it?”
“No, my dear. Not even close.”
“There are rumors...” Eriska seemed to remember why she was there and returned to buffing away foot callouses.
Feanna wondered how much the serving staff knew. Had GJ repeated what she’d told him? “What rumors? Tell me.”
“Some have said she’s...” Eriska lowered her voice to a whisper. “...she’s King Gavin’s bastard.”
Feanna laughed which, judging from Eriska’s startled expression, was not the expected reaction. “Oh, that’s quaint. My husband might be a stupid boor, but he’s loyal. He sired no bastards.” She laughed again.
“You tickle me. No, dear. Who else could have sired a girl who looks like she came from Gavin’s loins?”
Eriska gasped. “No!”
“Oh, yes. Keturah Kinshield is Rogan’s bastard. The perfect Rogan Kinshield betrayed his wife, and from what he confessed to me, not only once. Dozens of times. He propositioned me four different times, but I love Liera like a sister. I couldn’t do that to her.” Though he’d never said anything remotely inappropriate to her, she’d long wished he had. Feanna’s own husband had been a cold fish, and Rogan had been a strapping, hardworking buck with beautiful, dark eyes.
“I— I didn’t know. Does she know? That her husband...”
“GJ knows.” Feanna pouted playfully. “Would a boy tell his mother, knowing it would break her heart, or keep a secret that eats away at his insides?” Eriska would whisper this news to the first servant she saw, and soon the entire palace would be abuzz. Edan would be scurrying around in a near panic, trying to quell the rumors and keep Liera and her precious sons from finding out that Rogan wasn’t the perfect man they all thought.
A shadow crossed Eriska’s face. “That’s so cru—crucial a question to answer, Your Majesty.”
Feanna leaned back in her chair and watched her handmaiden scrub and rub her feet and file her toenails. Pity oozed from Eriska like a stench. “Did you say Keturah is sharing a room with Iriel?”
Eriska cleared her throat. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Good. If she wasn’t whisked away by nightfall and dumped at the orphanage, then Feanna would take care of the girl herself. “What other news is there?” she asked.
“News, Your Majesty?”
“About what’s going on here? What do you know of the Cyprindian visitors?”
“Nothing, Your Majesty.”
Aww, I’ve offended her delicate sensibilities. The soft-hearted trollop. “Nothing? Or nothing you want to tell me?”
