The Edict (The She Trilogy Book 1)

by P. J. Keyworth

  Kiara waited for the rest, but he simply kept opening his mouth silently. An odd tinge of purple ran across his lips. His hands flailed pointlessly at his throat.

  Kiara suddenly leapt forward, her hands trying to pull his collar open. He was suffocating, she could see the colour deepen.

  A coughing rasping sound suddenly emitted from his throat. He stumbled forward into her.

  “Help! Someone help!” she screamed, trying to support the man’s weight as he began to cough, blood splattering across her face and hair. “Coscian, you’ll be alright, Coscian!”

  The man continued to rasp as Kiara managed to lay him down without hitting him against anything. As soon as he was on the floor his body contracted violently, taken over by uncontrollable spasms.

  She screamed again, louder, longer. The doors to her room flew open. She didn’t see the women in the corridor gathering between the columns to peer in. Guards flooded the room, standing around the prostrate man and the woman covered in his blood. None knew what to do.

  Then all of a sudden it all stopped - the rasping, the thrashing, the coughing. Coscian was rigid, his face contorted, his lips deep violet, the remainder of the blood dripping slowly from his silent mouth. He was dead.

  Chapter 20

  Trevisian shouldered guards aside, running into the room. He stopped short when he saw her. She was kneeling beside the body, her hand stroking the dead man’s back without regard for the lack of movement beneath. Her eyes uncomprehending, her body slowly rocking.

  Johan had fetched him. News of the death was still spreading around the palace but Trevisian had not waited for further reports. Was she dead too? Or dying? He had left his chambers at a dead run, bellowing at servants and courtiers alike to move out the way. Now he was here and she was alive, but beside her lay a dead man.

  She didn’t seem aware of anyone around her.

  “What happened?” Trevisian cast back at one of the guards who stood uselessly by, watching the woman.

  He started sheepishly to attention. “My Lord Prince, we are unsure, she won’t speak.”

  Trevisian made a guttural sound of frustration, not wasting another moment on the guard. Coming to his Favourite, he knelt beside her.

  “Little One.” His hand gently pushed away the blood-speckled hair from her face. The intimate gesture provoked no response, neither did the words. She just kept staring. He leaned forward and took her hand from Coscian’s back, holding it tightly between his own. “What happened?”

  “My Lord Prince, it is not advisable…”

  “Go to the dogs!” Trevisian barked back, the guard cowering in response. Johan, who had accompanied the Prince back to the harem, muttered instructions to the guards.

  Trevisian cupped a hand to his Favourite’s face, gently turning her from the Harem Master’s open eyes to his instead. She gazed straight through him, as though he were not there, he could feel her hand trembling in his own. She had never seen death, not like this.

  “Little One, you must tell me what happened.” His dark eyes were gentle but demanding.

  She shrugged helplessly, clearly in shock.

  “Tell me,” his voice was low and hoarse.

  “We were talking,” her lips twisted and trembled and then, a low mournful sob escaped her.

  Trevisian’s hand tightened around her own, his brows drawing closer together as he watched her distress. Her eyes clouded over again, and without a second thought Trevisian pulled her firmly into his arms.

  Johan stepped forward after conversing with a physician who had just arrived on the scene. “Poison.” he murmured low in his ear.

  Trevisian nodded once jerkily. “Little One?” He drew his head away to look at her. How could he still not know her name? “Did you see him eat or drink anything? You must tell me.”

  Kiara’s blurry vision focused for a moment on the fruit platter, sat where Coscian had left it on the table just a few moments before.

  “The fruit.”

  Johan went immediately to work. He gave orders to the guards who moved quickly, taking the platter away to the physician’s quarters to be inspected while the body was covered and removed. In the midst of all the activity, Trevisian slipped his free arm under Kiara’s legs and picked her up. There was no protest.

  When they reached his chamber he ignored the guards, taking her straight to his bed, placing her on the soft covers.

  “I am going to get you a drink.” He didn’t bother telling her to stay there. Ducking out of the bedroom he came back into the main chamber.

  “Trevisian, are you thinking the same thing as me?” said Johan as he entered.

  “She was the target.” The grim line of his mouth might have been mistaken for quiet sadness. Johan knew better.

  “She was attacked again this morning by one of the women. Coscian was treating a cut on her arm when I went to see her.”

  “Get out!” The guards scattered. “You were with her?” asked Trevisian after the door was closed.

  “I wanted to get to know the woman you love, Trevisian.” The light eyes held his friend’s stare, not bowing to the dark look.

  “I’ll have whoever is responsible hanged! They’ll wish they had taken their own poison!” Trevisian was hissing like a snake. The scene he had walked into was replaying in his mind. Except the figures were switched. It was his Favourite who lay dead on the floor, blood pouring from her mouth, lips purple with suffocation.

  “She will stay here.” Trevisian turned to pour water from a decanter. “Johan can you…”

  They both stopped talking and turned to the sobbing noise. Trevisian’s Favourite standing in the doorway. She looked confused, and in her outstretched hand was a silk handkerchief.

  Trevisian was beside her in seconds but she wouldn’t let him comfort her, she just pushed the silk towards Johan. There was a faint pattern on it and small patches of blood from Kiara’s lip, but there, in the pattern were words.

  Prince and you in danger. Guards at third gate plotting. Assassination imminent.

  “So it was not some rival in the harem.” Johan spoke.

  “Get rid of it.” Trevisian ordered.

  Johan was already moving to the door.

  “Take this fruit to the physician too.” The guards came in, removing an identical platter of fruit from the dining table.

  Trevisian shuddered and then turned back to the woman who was still relying on the door frame to hold her up. “Where did you get this?”

  “I should have read it,” she replied. “I should have read it.”

  “Woman, answer me!” Trevisian’s voice was no longer gentle.

  “A trader gave it to her in the market place for a cut lip, Trevisian. She had nothing to do with this, can’t you see it?” Johan gestured towards the woman who was a clear wreck.

  The Prince’s shoulders relaxed somewhat.

  “Have all guards on the third gate imprisoned and order some warm water and towels to my room. Then you may go, Johan.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Look at her,” Trevisian gestured fiercely, “she needs to be cleaned and she’s hardly in a state to do it herself.”

  “Someone could…”

  “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

  Trevisian watched acceptance dawn in his friend’s eyes.

  “Watch the door.” Trevisian knew the request would see them left alone.

  Johan nodded once and was gone.

  Trevisian led Kiara back to sit on the bed, only leaving her briefly when the servant came to the door holding a golden bowl of steaming water and a selection of towels. He allowed them to be set down on a bedside table before dismissing the servant. She had not moved. Her eyes still staring through him.

  “I’m going to wash your face.” Trevisian sat beside her, picking up a small towel and dipping it in the water. He lifted it to her face and, after hesitating a moment, pushed it against her skin, cleaning away the blood. He rinsed the towel and then did the same a
gain on her forehead. Her eyes closed as he cleaned her neck, and strands of her hair. He cleansed her skin gently and her breathing lengthened, her muscles slowly relaxing in response.

  He left her with her eyes still closed, but when he came back with a cup of water her eyes were open and searching for him. When they alighted on him the puckered brow undid itself, spreading smooth across her forehead once more.

  He sat beside her again, handing her the cup and moving the towels off the bed and onto the side table.

  “No one should have to watch anyone die.”

  She nodded.

  “You will stay here until the danger has passed.”

  She nodded again. Then, without speaking, she leant into him. His arm came up in response, his face surprised but his body acting automatically. He drew her towards him, her head laying against his chest, her hair touching his chin.

  “No one can harm you here, no one can take you from me, do you understand?” He felt the shudder of her shoulders beneath his arm. “You’re mine.”

  She drew away enough to look him full in the face, her eyes locking with his. A timid hand came up and ran along his jaw, falling to his neck. He saw a look in her eyes he had not seen before. An open and inviting look.

  “I want to be yours.”

  The words sent a shockwave through him. Feelings heated him to the core. He caught her hand upon his neck, holding it there, and then pulling her closer with his arm around her waist he kissed her.

  The action seemed to answer everything that had happened in a way that transcended words. It wasn’t like last time, her mouth was hungry, her hands clinging to him, permission finally, excruciatingly, given. He pushed her gently back onto the bed, shifting his body, his hands pinning one of hers to the bed, the other still wrapped around her, pressing them closer together.

  He reached up and pushed the hair from her face, pausing, looking at her. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

  A flicker of fear passed over her eyes, but she reached up, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling his head towards her again, her mouth open. Her willing sent a shiver through him, waking him up. He ran his hands over her, over the body, the head, the face, defiant. Now she was here, in his bed, all his, entirely.

  She pulled at the hem of his shirt. He knelt up, pulling the clothing off, revealing his chest and back. He turned to throw it on the floor but before he could turn back he felt fingers tracing the line of the phoenix feathers tattooed on his skin. His whole body tensed at the feeling but when he turned back she didn’t say anything. She didn’t comment. She didn’t ask questions. She just held his neck, asking him to come back to her.

  The woman who had denied him. The woman who had incensed him. The woman who had captivated him. Here she was. He picked her up to sitting, gently pulling at the straps of her dress. The desire within him burned for release but he took his time. She was beautiful. When she finally lay naked before him, she blushed under his gaze but he would not answer her embarrassment with words, but kissed her again, running his hands over her body, drawing the covers over both of them. She sighed against his cheek, the sound sweet and light.

  They lay face to face, stilling for a moment, their eyes searching each other’s. He did not wait long but lay his arm around her back, drawing her to him again. The indented pattern he felt made him stop.

  She looked suddenly fearful, turning to escape his hold.

  That’s when he saw the blue Ensper, recognising the black tattoo that laced her back.

  He sat up, the covers rumpling around his waist.

  “You’re Laowyn.”

  He didn’t say anything else for some time.

  “My name is Kiara.” Her shoulders trembled with the whispered admission. Whether it was a gesture of peace, a truce, he didn’t care, she had given herself to him.

  He reached a hand out to touch the Ensper. His hand ran up, laying gently on her shoulder. “Come back to me,” his voice brushed warm against her skin. He pulled at her, drawing her back to him, under the covers, and into pleasure.

  “Do you think it worked?”

  “Yes, if she read it.” Zeb was tired of aimless chit-chat. This was why he ordinarily worked alone. He was the one who had heard the guards who were planning on killing the Prince and his Favourite this morning. Kiara’s cut lip had provided the perfect excuse for passing the message they had hastily written to her. But the elf wouldn’t be surprised if she was too shocked to notice any writing on a piece of material.

  Zephenesh had been praying since they had delivered the message that she would read it. He and Fidel had been discussing what to tell Kiara when next they saw her, hoping she would be alone in the market place. The look on her face when she had seen them all had not just been shock, it had been fear. Perhaps Ikara was right and she was in some kind of relationship with the Prince. Maybe she didn’t want to come back. Even if that was the case, Zeb knew she would not turn her back on her people. Now they weren’t just waiting for an opportunity to speak to her, they were waiting to see whether she was alive.

  As those thoughts ran through his mind, Jaik began overtly coughing. Calev slapped his back hard, almost causing an argument to break out, but the signal was given. Zeb turned with the others to see Kiara entering the market place. She looked paler than the other day, but no less beautiful.

  She wore a dress similar to the gold one she had worn yesterday, but today she covered it with a thin cloak. The finely woven material was in a deep hue that set off her long blond hair, the hair that Zeb had regrown for her. Her blue eyes traced over each of the parties in the courtyard until they fell upon the Laowyn party.

  Her step slowed as she came closer. All the men were there, watching her intently, just as they had the day before. Zeb saw her falter, but she steadied herself, coming directly to him.

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “We thought you might be dead by now,” Zeb didn’t try to touch her in greeting. Neither did he smile. “I’m pleased to see that you’re not.” He bent down, picking up a bottle of perfume and holding it out to her. She took it without looking. “Are you well?”

  Zephenesh came to stand beside Zeb. The others hung back so as not to draw attention, though they followed the conversation as closely as the participants.

  “Kiara,” his hand came out, but she didn’t move closer.

  “Uncle.”

  “I never thought to see you again, but by the Great Spirit’s power.”

  Zeb noticed one fine brow rise involuntarily.

  “Yet here I am.” She held out the blood-soaked silk. “What is this?”

  “You received it in time.”

  Her words were cold. “I did, the Prince did, others did not.”

  “Thank the Great Spirit you are safe!” Zephenesh’s whisper came out on a sigh of relief.

  “My friend is dead.”

  “I am sorry Kiara.” Zeb had never used her name before. It felt strange on his tongue, but his sincerity won from her a fleeting smile. “We overheard the guards on the gates when we were passing through yesterday, we tried to get the word to you as quickly as possible.”

  Her expression softened for a moment. “I am so glad you’re alive Zeb.” Her eyes misted slightly.

  “Have they hurt you?”

  “No.” She turned from Zeb and cast accusing eyes at her uncle. “If you only heard of the assassination plot after you arrived, I want to know what you are doing here in the first place?”

  Fidel came forward.

  “We are here to speak to you – to ask you to speak to the Prince on our race’s behalf. There are rumours that you have his… his favour. Kiara, we need your help.”

  She looked as though she had been struck across the face.

  “Help? And where was yours when I sought sanctuary? It’s only thanks to this elf that I am alive today.”

  “Kiara lower your voice.”

  She shot a venomous look at her uncle, but it was lost on the older ma
n who was watching the guards at the gate.

  “Kiara your uncle’s right,” Zeb warned, noting the guards’ heightened interest.

  Kiara turned, raising a hand of reassurance. They returned immediately back to a neutral state either side of the gate.

  Zeb was impressed. He wasn’t sure the others saw it but he had. It was not just the obedience that was telling, it was the slight bow of their heads. He looked back to Kiara. She was no prisoner, nor was she a mere concubine. She was highly favoured.

  “So I’m not even worthy of your rescue, uncle? Have I fallen so far from your graces?”

  “Kiara.” Zephenesh looked suddenly confused. “Have you not heard of the Edict which has been passed?”

  Her silence was answer enough.

  “Kiara, our whole people, they are to be destroyed.”

  The anger and frustration in her face vanished all at once. Zeb watched her turn over in her mind what all of them had been attempting to grasp for weeks.

  “The Prince is the only one with the power to help.”

  “He has not spoken of this.”

  “Kiara.” Her uncle stepped forward and grasped her hand. “The Prince’s seal was on the document.”

  “No,” her voice was faint. She yanked her hand from Zephenesh’s grasp. “No, he wouldn’t have allowed that, he…”

  “Kiara, you must help your people, you must plead with him.”

  “Please Kiara,” echoed Fidel.

  “But he…”

  “Will he listen?” Zeb asked the most sensible question.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Try. If it goes wrong we are here. The twins are working on an escape plan. We can get you out of here Kiara.”

  The look on her face was unreadable to most but Zeb who saw conflict there. He watched her closely during the rest of the conversation but she said little. They went over practicalities, meeting places, escape possibilities. She nodded absently when it was needed but other than that she looked through each of them, her thoughts elsewhere. Zeb watched her return to the harem, the weight of her condemned race lying upon her shoulders. She would petition the Prince tonight, and they would rescue her at dawn.