Revenge

by Fiona McIntosh

  A servant tapped him gently on the shoulder and disturbed the path of his thoughts. Tor was glad to leave them; they were becoming too painful. The Queen’s lady-in-waiting was a beautiful creature, tiny and dark of skin with a light, soft voice and wide smile. Light! How could he resist these gorgeous women? His musings on Alyssa were pushed back into a safe spot in his mind as Hela bid him follow her.

  Guards pulled their frightening weapons aside to allow Tor and Hela to pass. They walked through numerous decorative and sumptuous rooms before climbing a flight of stairs, which Tor assumed would lead them into another tower. Tor had not thought it possible for anything to be more captivating than what he had already seen until they entered another suite of rooms. All the grandeur of the rest of the palace was left behind; these rooms were magnificent in their simplicity of colour and style. In her private living quarters, the Queen of Cipres had chosen to surround herself with uncluttered space. The walls of the reception room were adorned by a few beautiful paintings and one superb tapestry. It seemed darker up here but cleverly placed torches lit the room and wider arched windows let in plenty of light. The furnishings, although beautiful and sophisticated, were also practical and—as far as Tor could tell—chosen for comfort. A small, painted porcelain stove had been lit against the chill in the air.

  ‘If you would wait here, Physic Gynt,’ Hela said, softly.

  She walked barefoot out of the room. Tor took the opportunity to look around but almost immediately a pair of great arched doors were opened from the inside. No guards in this area, Tor noted, though it was heavily secured outside.

  Hela pulled back a set of heavy drapes and smiled. ‘Queen Sylven will take audience with you now, sir.’ She bowed politely to him, allowed him to pass and then closed the drapes and doors behind her as she left the room.

  ‘Approach, Physic. Let me see you,’ came a familiar voice; one used to giving commands.

  Tor walked towards the voice. He saw the outline of a tall carved chair behind a fine curtain. He dropped to his knees and waited, sensing a practised eye casting over him. He realised he had shielded himself. Curious. The precaution must be habitual now.

  ‘You may stand.’

  He obeyed.

  ‘And you are a real physic?’

  ‘Yes, your highness. From Tal.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I have only this morning received some troubling news from your capital.’

  ‘I have been away from the city for many years, your majesty. I am not familiar with any of its tidings.’

  ‘I see. Then you will be saddened to hear of the death of Queen Nyria,’ she said.

  Tor momentarily lost his composure. He was rocked by the casually spoken news and his face betrayed his shock.

  ‘This information is disturbing for you, Gynt, I can see.’

  ‘Madam…I…’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Queen Nyria was a wonderful woman. Was it her heart?’

  ‘The communiqué did not specify details. As far as I can gather, she was thrown from a horse and died soon afterwards. Did you know her personally?’

  Tor chewed his lip. ‘Yes, your highness. I was Royal Physic to the King and Queen.’

  The sovereign paused. ‘Then I am deeply sorry, Torkyn Gynt, that I delivered these tidings to you so harshly. You obviously worked closely with the royal couple?’

  ‘Especially with Queen Nyria, your majesty. But she was a fragile woman and I should not be surprised to hear this news. The Kingdom has surely lost one of its greatest treasures.’

  The curtains opened and a young woman stepped out. She was adorned in a jewel-encrusted gown with slippers to match. Her looks were similar to Hela’s and her olive skin gleamed. She smiled to show teeth which were perfectly white, perfectly straight. Her lips and cheeks were coloured with rouge. The woman stepped towards him and spoke.

  ‘I am sorry for you, Torkyn Gynt.’ She laid long, elegant fingers on his arm.

  Still fazed by the news, Tor did not immediately react to his own senses which spoke urgently to him.

  ‘Come, sit with me. I wish to speak with you about happier things.’

  Tor allowed the Queen to lead him to a beautifully carved window seat. ‘Please,’ she said gently and motioned for him to sit.

  He did so but something nagged insistently at his mind.

  ‘What business do you have in Cipres, Physic Gynt?’ she asked, joining him on the window seat.

  ‘Well, I…er, that is, I am in search of something.’

  The feeling grew stronger. He looked closely at the woman sitting next to him. Her breasts were full and shown off to their very best effect by her low-cut gown, which itself was dazzling with precious stones sewn into the heavy fabric. Her perfume was rich and heady.

  Why did he feel something was not right?

  He dropped his shield and ‘listened’ as he liked to consider it. Then all his thoughts fell into place. He almost laughed.

  ‘Your majesty,’ he said, standing.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Oh, not you, my lady,’ he said to the woman sitting next to him in all her finery. ‘I mean to address the real Queen Sylven, behind those artful veils.’

  He heard a burst of delighted laughter and a clap of hands. This time her majesty, Queen Sylven, stepped out. She was not a young woman but Tor imagined every woman in Cipres would pale in comparison with her. Her natural olive complexion gleamed its health. She wore no false colouring bar the kohl that outlined her feline, almost black eyes which disclosed her exotic heritage. She was tall, much taller than the impostor, and devoid of jewellery. Her gown of rich cream revealed the flawless, polished skin of her neck and the tops of her arms but the rest of her body was modestly covered. Tor could not see her slippers but wondered if they matched her gown. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a thick single plait and he could see that it was still naturally black. She was utterly radiant and her height and slimness reminded him of Queen Nyria.

  ‘How did you know?’

  Tor smiled. ‘That was a fine trick, your majesty,’ he said.

  ‘That is one of my favourite jests. Tell me how you knew,’ she replied and quietly dismissed the jewel-encrusted impostor Queen with a nod.

  ‘Well, if your state rooms are anything to judge by, then understated sophistication is your trait, your highness,’ he said. ‘I walked through fabulous halls and reception rooms on the way here and yet it was only when Hela brought me into your chambers that I realised I was seeing the true taste of Queen Sylven.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said, intrigued and amused.

  Tor continued. ‘Elegant and clean. Modest yet quietly proud. Strong and practical. Devastatingly beautiful, a beauty which time cannot affect.’

  Tor watched her smile at the last.

  ‘I wish we had met when I was your age, Torkyn Gynt. I think I would have fallen in love with your easy charm.’

  It was rare for Queen Sylven to lay open her thoughts in such a way but she found the man in front of her disarming in all respects.

  ‘Age means nothing, your majesty,’ Tor said and meant it. ‘Queen Nyria, who was almost old enough to be your mother, possessed similar style and poise. Like you, she was a Queen in every aspect of her character. I cannot imagine you ever need to search for male companionship.’

  This amused Sylven. ‘My brothel is brimming.’

  Tor’s eyes widened. ‘So it is true?’

  She gave him a puzzled look and he continued. ‘I heard a rumour many years ago that you kept a brothel. Is there no King of Cipres, or any likelihood of one?’

  ‘Even if there were, I am sure you Tallinese could never understand that the royal brothel would not be disbanded.’ She loved the look of confusion which swept across his face.

  Sylven took his arm and guided him to sit down once again. He noticed that her hand was soft and unwrinkled. It was impossible to judge the age of this woman. She was certainly years Alyssa’s senior, yet younger than Nyria. That would have to put her somewhere beyo
nd thirty summers but before forty.

  ‘Allow me to enlighten you about Ciprean royal tradition, Tor. May I call you Tor?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Cipres has never been ruled by a man. As a consequence of tradition and centuries-old magic, the crown is always handed down to a woman. The Queen chooses her mate and, through secret powers of her own, ensures that a daughter is born. The lover is no longer required. The Princess becomes Queen at her rightful time. The Queen of Cipres has absolute power over all her subjects and she is taught to be magnanimous towards them; she is their protector and will see no harm come to her people. There are no poor in Cipres.’

  Tor agreed. ‘I can guess that from the homes I saw just briefly.’

  ‘There are always less fortunate people, for many reasons. But we care for those who fall into trouble or despair. We give all our people the chance to better themselves. No child goes hungry. No one goes without lodging. All our people are educated. Our farms thrive.’

  ‘We could all learn from the way of Cipres, your majesty.’

  She nodded, knowing he meant this compliment. ‘And, in return, the people give their absolute loyalty to the Queen.’

  ‘Is there a Princess, your majesty?’

  ‘Indeed there is. Her name is Sarel. She is presently but twelve summers. Still a girl, but her father was carefully chosen and Sarel will be a great Queen one day. For now though, I expect her to enjoy being a child.’ She sighed. ‘I fear my mother and grandmother never quite grasped the importance of being allowed to play and enjoy as normal a childhood as can be permitted for a royal.’

  ‘You have great insight, Queen Sylven. I am sure that ensuring freedom for Sarel now will reward you in later years.’

  ‘I hope so. She will have a vast and powerful realm to rule. She must have no regrets about her role.’

  Tor looked wistfully from the window where they sat. ‘I was thinking as I looked out over the city, your majesty, how I could easily fall in love with Cipres and live here.’

  She looked surprised. ‘But Tor, we would welcome you here with open arms. Physics are always in high demand.’

  He shook his head. ‘But I cannot, Queen Sylven. I have tasks ahead of me which I do not relish but which must be done.’

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, I hope you will tell me more. Come, let us stroll the gardens together, and then why not join me for dinner?’

  ‘I would be honoured,’ he replied.

  Much later that evening, while sipping sweet wine and munching on exotic fruits, Tor wished he really could forget the past and make a new life here. Sitting out on one of the many fine balconies of the Ciprean palace, shielded from the cool breeze by the tall, sentry-like trees and warmed by many braziers, he felt relaxed for possibly the first time in years.

  He and Queen Sylven had spent the entire afternoon together and thoroughly enjoyed one another’s companionship. Sylven possessed a sharp intelligence which Tor would have found attractive in any man or woman, and her wit was deeply engaging. He was in no hurry for the evening to end.

  The feeling appeared to be mutual as Sylven ordered another jug of wine to be brought out to them. Tor stretched languidly and once again felt an appreciative glance sweep over him.

  ‘You never did tell me how you worked out my fine trick.’

  Tor knew it was dangerous to tell anyone of his powers, but his instincts told him there was no threat here, only friendship.

  He took the risk. ‘I am sentient, your majesty.’

  She was pouring him another goblet of the sweet wine but stopped. His comment had obviously taken her by surprise.

  ‘You jest, of course?’

  ‘No, Sylven. It’s true that I did make some crucial observations,’ he grinned at her open mouth, ‘but, in all honesty, I relied on my ability to sniff out magic. Congratulations, it is a fine trick.’

  He took his half-filled goblet from her long fingers.

  ‘Prove it!’ she demanded, her eyes glinting with high amusement.

  ‘Tell me how and I shall do it.’

  ‘All right.’ She closed her eyes. ‘What am I thinking?’

  Tor cast. He caught the thought and laughed. ‘I’m not going to repeat it out loud but I shall be delighted to do that to you.’

  Sylven shrieked. She was deliciously excited now. ‘That’s just you teasing. You couldn’t know what I was thinking, you wretch.’

  Tor was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had used his power for fun. The last occasion was as a child, when he had done whatever he could to amuse Alyssa and hear that wonderful laugh of hers. When Sylven laughed it was not dissimilar to the undisguised mirth of the young Alyssa and he enjoyed the gentle reminder of the woman he adored but could not have.

  ‘No,’ the Queen said shaking her head, ‘you will have to do something much more dramatic.’

  Tor dragged his mind away from Alyssa and back to the present. While he was thinking, the jug Sylven had ordered arrived and was put down in front of them.

  The Queen was quick to dismiss her servant. ‘Thank you. We wish for privacy now.’

  ‘Yes, your majesty,’ the servant whispered and discreetly disappeared.

  ‘We are alone, Tor, show off your magic!’ she commanded.

  He decided to perform a trick which had terrified Merkhud but which he knew would thrill Sylven. In the blink of an eye, Tor disappeared. The Queen screamed with delight.

  ‘Shh!’ Tor warned, reappearing immediately. ‘You’ll have them running from all corners. They’ll chop my head off before I have time to explain.’

  Sylven’s perfectly manicured hands covered her mouth but her eyes betrayed her excitement, and her complete disbelief at what she had just witnessed. ‘What else can you do?’ she whispered.

  Tor shook his head. ‘I am not a performing animal, your majesty. I have sentient ability; that’s it. I can…’ he searched for the words, ‘sense things.’ He did not feel it appropriate to explain the full breadth of his powers. ‘And you, your highness, how far do your powers extend?’

  ‘Tor, if I could do what you just did, I would be the most powerful sovereign of all the lands in all the world. I still cannot believe you did that,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Your majesty, may I request that this be kept private between us? I am not in the habit of boasting about my power.’

  She grinned. ‘Only to sovereigns?’

  ‘No,’ Tor said, leaning across and taking her hand. ‘Not to just any sovereign, only indescribably beautiful ones.’

  ‘You will stay the night with me, Torkyn Gynt. I should like to see in which other ways you can use this mighty power.’

  If it had not been for the cushioning barrier of trees, the Cipreans would have heard their Queen’s and her guest’s laughter almost as far away as the city’s centre.

  18

  Kiss of the Silver Maiden

  When Tor awoke between Sylven’s silk sheets, the Queen’s side of the bed was cool. She had obviously arisen some time ago. He blinked and rolled over to stare through the doors leading onto her private balcony. It was beautifully cool and silent out there. The sun was not yet high and the colours outside looked watery and dreamy. He had slept long and deeply; the sleep of total relaxation.

  Tor recalled the pleasure of the previous night and how much they had enjoyed the erotic finale to a grand day in one another’s company. Sylven looked nothing like Alyssa but all the same she reminded him so much of his wife. Her joy in life and infectious sense of humour had consumed him and his years of grief and loneliness had been released during a passionate exchange. Sylven enjoyed men and she was certainly not shy about showing him how to please her.

  Tor must have drifted off briefly again because this time he opened his eyes to the sound of quiet voices on the balcony. It was Sylven talking with one of her maids. He wrapped a linen around himself and stepped through the doors. Neither of the women were embarrassed by his semi-nakedne
ss; the maid even looked appraisingly at his body.

  The Queen made a sound of disapproval. ‘Tor, you’ll catch your death out here. Hela, fetch a wrap, please.’

  Hela departed and was back in a blink with a beautifully weaved cloth of the finest wool. It looked light in her hands but once Tor threw it around himself, he marvelled at the instant warmth.

  Sylven grinned. ‘Galinga goat. Very precious, very rare.’

  Hela put a steaming mug of chicana in Tor’s hand and he raised it to his lips. It tasted amazingly good.

  ‘And very expensive, no doubt,’ he said, bending to kiss Sylven’s hair.

  The Queen accepted his affection and proceeded to sign some paperwork. While she read, Tor quietly sat himself down to inhale the crisp morning air. It was perfumed by the exotic flowers from the palace gardens he had explored the previous day. He felt comfortable and serene. He sipped his chicana and turned to watch Sylven.

  The Queen knew his eyes were on her but did not look up. ‘I do not enjoy the formal part of running a Kingdom, you know. I love getting out and being with my people but I despise all these papers and signings and treaties and…’

  Sylven stopped at Tor’s chuckle. ‘It’s a lot of work,’ she admonished, reaching for a sugar-encrusted pastry.

  Tor helped himself to one of the delicacies as well. ‘I realise this,’ he said, taking a bite. ‘I’m laughing because you sound exactly like King Lorys of Tallinor. Oh, this is good.’ He took another huge chunk.

  ‘Really?’

  He struggled to get the words out of his pastry-filled mouth. ‘Yes, absolutely delicious.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I mean about King Lorys! Tell me about him. I hear he’s handsome and—forgive how callous this sounds—but he must also be very eligible now.’

  Tor nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose he is. Lorys is a good-looking man. Perhaps not as tall as you, your majesty, but he carries his kingliness with great nobility. He possesses a sharp mind and great wit, loves to hunt and race, adores his people…and complains incessantly about paperwork.’

  The Queen smiled. ‘I know how he feels. And is he true, Tor?’