* * *
Evin followed a guard through the tunnel leading into the dungeon. The tunnel was just low enough to be uncomfortable, though Evin did not have to bend to get through. This close, the guard stank. Evin couldn’t wait to get upwind of the man. How comfortable he had become in the palace, with his little cleansing wand and the perfumes Denua gave him. He kicked himself, in his thoughts, for forgetting what real life was like for people like Gareth and his own parents.
He hoped he was ready for it, because he was about to meet real life right now.
The tunnel opened into a wide, underground room. With its chains, manacles, bloodstained tables of unfinished wood, and metal devices covered in plates and rivets and spikes, the room stank of evil. The stupid, pointless, cruel kind of evil that Tyber would have liked. Across from the entrance, Gareth sat manacled to a wall, naked. The bastards hadn’t even given him a cell. Evin didn’t know whether it would be worse to be caged and alone with despair, or here on display, but he was outraged anyway.
Outrage was good. Anger was good. Maybe he wouldn’t cry.
The chains held Gareth’s arms up. His chin was tucked down to his chest. Perhaps he was dozing.
Evin closed the distance, conscious of the effort to conceal his heartbreak, and crouched. The beautiful green skin was smooth and flawless. Which probably only meant they hadn’t tortured him in the past few minutes. And they hadn’t begun using fire yet.
Despite Denua’s warning, the guard did not sit beside him to spy but stood quietly at a short distance.
Evin had just decided to sit without disturbing Gareth for the allotted two hours so the guards would be forced to let him sleep, when Gareth looked up and—oh shit—smiled. Evin was prepared for anything but that look of happiness and trust. Did Gareth have false hope that Evin could change anything? Evin’s eyes stung.
“H-hello, Gareth.” There was more, but he didn’t know how to say it.
“Don’t be sad. I did it. Well, one of me did. We saved you!”
“Yes.”
“So that’s good.”
“Yes. It’s good. I can—”
“I believe you now, you know. All that stuff. Cydrich showed me what it’s like to be bad, and you were right. You were.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a monster. Not bad. So you mustn’t be sad.” Gareth stretched to lean a little closer, as close as he could, and whispered, “It’s really not so terrible in here. When they cut me”—despite Evin’s resolve, a sob squelched from his chest—“I make a lot of noise like it hurts awful, but I’ve had a lot worse.” His conspiratorial expression almost made Evin believe. Nodding, Gareth rested back against the wall.
Evin rubbed his eyes. “Cydrich tricked me. I thought he killed you, before. And now… I couldn’t come to see you before now, but I’ll come whenever I can.”
“I’m glad.”
Evin looked at the dirt floor, not knowing what to say, hating himself for wasting their time.
“A man came,” Gareth said. “In a blue robe. Shiny cloth. He talked about gods and stuff. He didn’t like me.”
A priest? “He doesn’t matter.”
“He said I was gonna burn for what I did, like I didn’t know that already. No, don’t be sad! There’s a good part. He said after we die, we get judged for our lives. Don’t you see?”
Evin shook his head and willed his eyes to stop leaking.
“Evin, the gods will know you were right, won’t they? They’ll know I only did stuff to save you, and I tried not to kill people. They’ll know you were right, that I was good. I tried to be.”
Evin wanted to die for not taking Gareth into his arms. “You were. Always. You were always a good man. What you did was Cydrich’s fault.”
“So it’s good, then. They’ll know.”
“I know. And I’ll make sure everyone knows. Everyone.”
“I won’t be a secret no more. Not a ghost no more.”
“Gareth.” Evin hoped Gareth would understand when he said, “To me, you’re better than the best thing ever.”
A tear escaped Gareth’s eye then, but he smiled again and nodded. “To me. You.”
* * *
The next day, Denua summoned Evin to the throne room as she held court. A line of people waited to bring pleas or disputes before her. However, she left the citizens to stand restlessly in their queue while she dealt with other business. Uliette and Tarcia were present, a few other advisors, and now Evin.
“Evin, my love, I have received Captain Uliette’s full report on the matter of the creature we hold in the dungeon.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He steeled himself.
“You have shown a remarkable interest in sheltering this…thing that was responsible for an invasion of Parige and so much damage to the life and property of her citizens.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I believe Gareth—”
“You will be silent.”
He closed his mouth with a snap.
“You have shown a remarkable interest in the creature itself. An unusual interest. Some question has arisen about your loyalty to me, your queen. You may answer. Are you loyal?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” To everyone who matters.
Denua smiled. “Good, then it is settled.” She looked at Evin and Uliette. “You will be glad to know, Evin, that I have a small task for you, by which you may demonstrate your loyalty. One that I know you will be glad to do for your queen.”
“Yes…Your Majesty…” He knew what would follow but still had to struggle against his body, to mostly breathe evenly, to hold back the tears that would expose him.
“I have decided that the creature you call Gareth is a monster from the underworld. In fact, it has been identified as nothing less than a troll cast in human form. It has caused much destruction and pointless suffering. Our sorcelers will recreate the mirror device without further need of it, and the monster is otherwise too dangerous to exist.”
There was never any doubt. You did what you had to do. And yet the fist crushed his heart. He couldn’t feel his legs and feared they would collapse, dropping him to beg at Denua’s feet.
Evin was spared from the necessity of making a reply when Tarcia burst forth. “Your Majesty, please reconsider. There is no way to imagine what wonders we might discover by using him as a resource for our sorcelry. Not only will he survive rituals as no human could, but also, his unique combination of human intelligence with troll blood could unlock secrets we might never find in any other way.”
Evin wondered if Denua was letting her filthy pet plead for Gareth’s life in order to give Evin a false hope that she could crush, or if, because she loved him, she wanted him to fully realize the horrors she was about to spare Gareth. He was grateful for the time it gave him to master his body.
She leaned forward. “Enough, sorceler. There are plenty of peasants and beggars whose blood you may have, but this creature…this abomination… I will not suffer it to live. Evin, as my loyal subject, you shall have the honor of carrying my instruction to the executioner. What say you?”
Evin saw the look of consternation on Uliette’s face. He knew she’d realize that what he was being asked to do was highly unusual. He was the last person who should do this.
He did not quite keep his voice from breaking as he said, “I will do as you ask, Your Majesty.”
She nodded once. “Take this to the executioner.” She held out a parchment, rolled and sealed. He took it with a trembling hand. “Those are my instructions. You will return with the required proof once the creature has been destroyed.”
This time he couldn’t force a reply.
Denua sat back. Her eyes turned away from him. “That is all. Captain Uliette, bring forth the next supplicant.”
* * *
Simone had hoped to check on Evin after he returned from the execution, but she didn’t get to see him until the next day. How had he coped after carrying out Denua’s cruel order?
Denua had sent him
, alone, to watch his former love be destroyed. The stink of burning troll flesh still lingered in parts of the castle, which was unpleasant enough for everyone. But poor Evin had been required to stay to watch the actual burning. After everything he had already suffered this year!
Simone had never reported her belief that Evin and the creature had been lovers. But had Denua guessed? Was that why she had punished him so?
Denua’s sorcelry made Evin adore her, but how could that be enough to blunt such unimaginable grief? How had he been able obey her order? In truth, he had to know that refusal would cost his life. But still. It must have been intolerable.
When Simone found Evin, it was quite by accident. He was moping at a window, on a high floor of the castle where she’d never seen him before. Very close to the window, in fact.
“Farmboy,” she said, and he looked at her sadly. Once again she felt the urge to rescue him, to solve all his problems. But it’s too late. No one can fix this. And what could she ever have done anyway? The creature was doomed from the moment Cydrich created it.
When Evin said nothing, she continued. “Will you be well? You’re not preparing to leap, are you?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, I’m convinced.” She walked over and, rather presumptuously, took him into her arms, an embrace he simply accepted, neither rejecting nor seeking comfort. “I know that had to be the most difficult thing you have ever done—”
“You don’t know. You really can’t know.”
“I suppose not. I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you. You should have had a friend there.”
“I did all right. You heard that swine, Tarcia. It was a kindness, really.”
She let him go. She was offering friendly support, but even broken and sad, he was Denua’s beautiful pet. It wouldn’t do for someone to walk by and get the wrong impression.
Evin said, “You were right all along. He could never be free while Denua lives. She saw him as a weapon, just as Cydrich did.”
“We’re all trapped, Evin. Some more than others. Even Denua is trapped, in the way she has to think about things. About everything. Elyrria depends upon her.”
“He was the one trapped!” Evin said. “For so long alone—”
“Evin. At least your trap is gilded. At least you adore Denua, so it will be easier for you.”
He turned from her and looked out the window. “You’re right. I should hate her, but I just can’t. She made me choose, and I had to choose her.”
“It’s better that way.” She didn’t say, it kept you alive.
He sighed. “I’ll get over this. I was planning to ask for her hand, before…everything. When I feel better—”
A sharp pang of jealousy pricked Simone’s heart, but she feigned for him a pleasure she didn’t feel. “Ha! Well, good luck, Farmboy!”
Why should she be jealous? Denua had taken any number of lovers in her history, but handfastings were exceedingly rare. Surely she would never marry a bumpkin like Evin. However, marriage or no, she’d never let go of her pretty toy, so either way, it didn’t matter to Simone.
“Yes. Ha. I’ve just got to get my humor back.”
Simone left him to stare out the window. She had things to do, and she believed him. He would be himself again soon, and his love for Denua would conquer his feelings for the wretched troll-boy.
* * *
For a few more days, it seemed Simone regularly encountered Evin moping around all over the castle. But gradually his mood lightened, and he was more himself. Then he was glued to Denua’s side, and they behaved as happy, young lovers again.
Very happy, it seemed, because with the city beginning to return to normal, Denua announced a celebration with a dual purpose: to commemorate her salvation of Parige and all of Elyrria from the traitor Cydrich, and to announce her engagement to Evin.
If I didn’t know them, I wouldn’t believe it. But Simone did know. Besotted by sorcelry, Evin could only love Denua, and she, for some reason, found special favor in him.
Handfasting would occur forthwith. Denua did not subscribe to the superstitions of peasants and said there would be no need to wait for the arrival of spring.
Chapter Twenty-seven
On the night of the celebration, the palace’s public great rooms were filled with nobles from Parige and flown in from cities throughout Elyrria, from the mainland to the Britannic Isles. The castle was bright with torchlight and sorceler’s lamps, alive with the sound of music and revelry.
Simone wore her dress uniform and mingled with the guests, keeping an eye out for trouble. She spotted Evin, looking more beautiful than ever in a short doublet of imported silk with silver accoutrements, including a shameless silver codpiece. Surely not his choice. Denua had dressed him to show him off, and he appeared distinctly uncomfortable.
He was listening with barely feigned interest to a monologue delivered by a corpulent and unpleasant-looking noble. The man gestured incessantly with his hands, jeweled rings flashing as he tried to convince Evin of some silly political belief or other. She took pity on the farm boy and went over to speak with him.
“Excuse me, milord.” She addressed Evin with a small bow. “Won’t you come with me to deal with a small matter for the queen?”
“Oh. Um, yes. Yes of course. Please excuse me, Lord Runciter.” He bowed a bit to the disappointed man and turned to walk with her.
“Lord Runciter was just telling me about the…important…tax situation…in the port at…” He gave up.
She laughed with a sincere amusement that surprised her. “Are you sure about his name?”
“Well, I was until you asked.”
“Oh, you’re probably right. I’m just trying to confound you. Actually, it looked as if you needed a rescue.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I really did.” He lowered his voice to say, “No cleansing wand has ever been close to that man’s mouth. Did you smell that? I wanted to swoon.”
“I always speak kindly of nobility,” she said. A hint. “In any case, as we are at your celebration, I want to congratulate you again on your engagement.”
He smiled. “Thank you. It means a great deal, coming from you. You helped me with…tricky moments during the invasion. You didn’t owe me anything.” She started to pooh-pooh his remark, but he continued with a mischievous wink. “I’ll remember you after my ascension to power.”
She laughed gently. “I hope you won’t make that little joke to anyone else. They might mistake you.”
“Right. I know Denua will live forever. My place is to love and comfort her while I can. Besides, can you imagine an ignorant peasant like me taking the crown? Ridiculous. I still leave a trail of sawdust wherever I go, don’t I?”
The evening suddenly lost its luster for Simone. It seemed he understood his situation perfectly. She realized that he probably did not even harbor naive hopes about what would happen when Denua no longer found him a source of love and comfort. The court at Parige was the loveliest trap for anyone foolish enough to enter.
She saw him recognize the look on her face. Weren’t farm boys supposed to be half-wits?
“You’re my friend, Simone Uliette. I’ve had few enough, and I truly do know that you are my friend. I am sorry for the ways I disappoint you.”
“You’re my friend, milord, and I’m sure I have no idea why you talk of disappointment.”
“My past. You were right. What you said about him. And what you didn’t say about me. We weren’t just friends.”
“Evin, don’t—”
“No, you’re right. I won’t speak about it. I can keep shut, but with you it’s different. You know there are sacrifices. I couldn’t tell him how I felt. But I can tell you this. I’m glad you’re my friend. I’m glad you understand that there are difficult sacrifices.”
Disappointing her? Sacrifice? He had to sacrifice his friend—his love—to satisfy Denua. But there was something more in his words. Was he saying this marriage was a way of sacrificing himself t
o Denua for some reason?
How could he think the handfasting would disappoint me?
A footman approached and interrupted. “Milord, the queen wishes you to meet Count Gascon.”
Evin glanced at the servant in annoyance, then looked into Simone’s eyes and said, “I will make whatever sacrifices are necessary.” He searched her face.
The thought raced through her mind: He knows you want him. But she didn’t! Did she?
Before she could imagine how to reply, he said, “I will always be your friend,” and turned to leave.
* * *
The handfasting ceremony took place on the next Lordsday, while nobles and dignitaries were still in town.
Evin was privately glad that it never occurred to Denua he might want his parents to see the ceremony. His father was a rough and thoughtless sort who might offend people who did not take such lightly. Evin wanted his parents to remain unnoticed by the people of Denua’s court and far away from his schemes.
Given Denua’s long rule, a royal handfasting was a rare event. Though cold, the sun shone brightly, so the people turned out to see the spectacle. The commoners of Parige stood in cheering throngs along the avenue, which communicated between the castle proper and the cathedral where the ceremony would be held. In his suite in the castle, Evin could hear the noise from outside, and the valet who came to fasten the many buckles of his shining black boots told him that the cathedral was already filled to bursting with nobility.
Evin sighed. These people so loved their ridiculous, complicated customs. Why couldn’t Evin and Denua just find a yard with a nice tree, have a priest nick their hands, and be done? Parigians had to make everything tricky.
The bride and groom were to make their way to the cathedral in separate coaches. White for her, black for him. Each coach had been placed, with wings tucked in, atop a sort of cart made of lacquered wood in the same style and an actual team of horses connected at the front. In order that they might wave to the public, they would be pulled to the cathedral like vegetables to market. After the ceremony, they would return to the palace to consummate the marriage, then join an all-day feast, already in progress in their honor. The timing for everything would be tricky today. But all the preparations were complete, and though he was nervous, Evin assured himself that he would not panic.
In the Darkness Page 21
