“Malaq is not going to like this.”
“Malaq doesn’t have a choice. It’s done.”
“That it is.” Krillos peered around me, straining to see through the trees. “Where’s the kid? Don’t tell me the runt lost his way.”
I felt Neela staring. When I didn’t answer, Krillos stared too.
Uneasy, he said, “Ian, where’s Liel?”
I shook my head.
Krillos was quiet a moment. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“How do you know? He could be—”
“He’s not. Liel’s dead, Krillos. I took care of it.”
“You did?”
“I kept my promise.”
Krillos dropped his head and turned away as two Rellan guardsmen exited the brush behind him. Following them was a third man dressed in a brown linen tunic and breeches. I almost didn’t recognize him, outfitted more like a woodsman than a royal.
“It’s about time,” Malaq said, approaching me. Expecting his usual, friendly greeting, I didn’t see it coming when he walked up and gave me a solid punch in the face. “Goddamn it, Troy. Do you know what kind of danger you put us in? What danger you put yourself in? If you don’t give a shit what happens to you, how the hell do you expect the rest of us to? I swear by the gods, if you had ended up back in prison…”
I wiped at the blood on my lip. “I didn’t.”
Malaq grunted and stalked away. “You went off plan,” he said, coming back. “You left my man alone in enemy territory. You put the burden of Jarryd’s life on him. If I hadn’t gotten worried and had Lirih open a door to Krillos—if she had been even a few minutes late—the patrol that was tracking them would have closed in and they would be dead right now. Just like Liel.”
I hadn’t seen that blow coming either. “You heard me?”
“Yes, I fucking heard you.” Running his hands back over his hair, Malaq shook his head. “You had to suck him in, didn’t you? Give him a dose of the old, Ian Troy charm and heroics, your ‘I’m much too dangerous to be around’ act. Then you drop a couple of jokes, pat him on the head a few times, and he’s hooked. Gods, Ian. The boy barely knew you and he followed you like a damn dog!”
“I tried to keep him safe.”
“Why bother? Liel was dead the day he met you.”
A pang hit my chest. “Fuck you.”
“He loved you, Troy. Liel loved you and he paid the price. Same as Jarryd.”
“Goddamn you…”
“So I want to know.” Gray eyes flashing Malaq grabbed a fistful of my grimy shirt. “Who’s next? Me? Sienn? The gods know you haven’t made her suffer enough.”
With a wordless cry, I threw Malaq off me and took him down. There was no wavering. No pulling punches. No one interfered. Fists flying at full force, elbows and knees ramming, we went after each other like it was a long time coming.
After a hard clip to the jaw, Malaq shoved me off and climbed to his feet. He drew back for a kick and I grabbed his leg. I twisted it, but he was way ahead of me. Moving his body with the rotation, Malaq pulled right out of my grip. He got his kick in then; a swift, afterthought of a strike to my shoulder as he recovered his footing.
Noticeably unscrupulous and resourceful with his moves, Malaq’s hand-to-hand was far different than his sword play. He fought nothing like a nobleman, and even less like a Langorian. If anything, he scrapped like an experienced street brawler—an observation that rang painfully true as Malaq reached a hand down to help me up, and when I took it, he swung me head first into a tree.
Old and withered, the moldy trunk caved on impact. Pulling my head out from inside it, as I shook the bug-infested bark from my hair, I heard Malaq advancing. I let him get closer. Then I grabbed a fallen branch, pivoted, and drove the end into his stomach. He doubled over. I drew back and delivered a rapid blow to the side of his head that broke the branch and spun Malaq all the way around. He fell on his back and I jumped on him.
Snatching up a twisted vine off the ground, I wrapped it around his throat.
Krillos started shouting. Malaq’s guards were trying to pull me off. Metal touched my skin as they aimed their spears at my neck. I wondered if anyone would stop them.
I wondered if I would.
My pondering was cut short as Malaq jammed a stick into the dirty bandage on my leg and I saw white.
Writhing on the ground, between blinks I watched Krillos help Malaq up. Their heated words were muffled and muted. As Malaq ripped the vine from his neck he gave me a fast kick in the ribs. I let him have that one. But I didn’t mind when he lost balance after and collapsed next to me on the ground.
Both of us done in, lying side by side, covered in swamp and panting in exhausted unison, as blood seeped out around the edges of the stick in my thigh, a red ring formed around Malaq’s throat. Along with a myriad of bruises, an ugly lump was growing on one side of his face. I imagined it looked similar to the one on my forehead.
Everyone else backed away and left. I assumed they went on to the camp, leaving Malaq and I alone to finish each other off.
No, I thought soberly. I wouldn’t have taken it that far. I couldn’t have, not with Malaq. Neela spoke the truth. Violence did run with the blood in my veins. That was my reality. But I couldn’t let it be my excuse.
Malaq groaned and I glanced at him. “You okay?”
“Never better,” he winced. “You?”
“I have a giant hole in my leg.”
“I think you have a giant hole in your head.”
I wanted to laugh but my ribs hurt. “I think you’re right.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said.
“Yeah, you did. But it’s okay. I deserved it.”
“It’s okay that I stabbed you? Or that you were going to let my men stab you?” I said nothing and Malaq grunted. “You are one messed up son of a bitch.”
“At least I’m consistent. You, my friend, are as contradictory as they come.”
“All this time and you’re still troubled by the many facets of my personality?”
I gave into a painful chuckle. “A Prince duels, Malaq. They spar. They joust. They don’t mix it up like a common street tramp. Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Some place far from here.” Malaq got up. “Can you walk?”
I didn’t think I could stand. But he ignored my moaned objection and reached down and pulled me to my feet. “Wait.” I gestured at my bag on the ground. “I brought you a present.”
Moving stiffly, Malaq retrieved the pack. As he opened it and saw the Crown of Stones inside, a slight smile appeared beneath the darkening bruises on his face. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he gave me the other one, and steered us toward the camp.
Leaning heavily on Malaq, I asked the question that had been on my mind since he hit me. “How’s Jarryd?”
“Skinny as hell. Half the time, he doesn’t make sense. And being here with so many of my kinsmen isn’t helping. He won’t accept them as allies.”
“Jarryd just spent two years in a Langorian prison. He has a right to be jumpy.”
“Jumpy, I can handle. It’s the attacks I can’t ignore.”
“Jarryd’s attacking your men? I didn’t think he’d have the strength for that.”
“I think we both know a man can glean a lot of strength from hatred. I’ve confined him to the healer’s tent until he settles down. It’s where he should be anyway.”
“Has he mentioned Elayna Arcana?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“He was pretty worked up about her. I got the idea they were close in there.”
“I see.”
“Liel called her release complicated. Neela wouldn’t talk about it.” Getting no response, I prodded him. “What’s going on Malaq? Where is Elayna?”
“Elayna is in Kabri, Ian.”
“That’s great news. But why did Draken let her go? Leniency isn’t his style.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He blew out a resigned breath. “Draken granted Elayna’s release as part of a marriage agreement. A political match, if you will.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t try that a long time ago. Who did Draken give her to?”
“Me.”
I hopped to a stop and untangled myself from his hold. “You’re going to marry Elayna Arcana?”
“I already have.”
Taken aback, I shrugged. “I…don’t know what to say.”
“There’s a first.” Malaq shouldered my weight again and we started forward. “I was crowned King of Rella the day you left for Darkhorne.”
“So you’re married, and you’re a King now? Did I miss anything else?”
He cracked a reluctant grin. “Draken is eager to expand his territory. He’s also afraid it will spread his reign too thin. By naming me Rella’s King, with the rightful Arcana heir as my Queen, it protects his holdings.”
“Well, it’s not the throne you were after. But at least Rella is free.”
“Free is a subjective term where my brother is concerned, Ian. Rella is still a territory of Langor, and I’m still Draken’s subordinate. This does, however, put me in a better position to help her citizens. It also legitimizes my claim to Rella and provides a stepping stone toward bridging the gap between our peoples once and for all. I only hope Lirih can forgive me.”
“Ah. I thought there was something between you two.”
“For a while, I imagined Lirih would be the woman I’d marry.”
“That’s either a joke, or you’re out of your goddamn mind.”
“I love her, so...most likely, the latter.”
I shook my head. Malaq was full of revelations today. “You were seriously considering taking a Shinree for a wife? Even if the people loved you, Lirih wouldn’t survive a week as your queen.”
“Which is one reason I married Elayna. I saved a life instead of putting one in jeopardy. There was just one small complication I didn’t expect. But, gods willing, Draken will be dead before it matters.”
Malaq offered nothing more. We’d entered the camp and too many people were staring at us. More precisely, they were glaring at me. Kit, standing off to the side with Krillos, buried her head in his chest and started sobbing.
“Looks like word is spreading about Liel,” Malaq said.
“I didn’t realize Kit knew him that well.”
“Liel didn’t spend a lot of time here. But I think you’d agree. The boy had a way of worming his way in.”
Frowning, I looked away. “Yeah. I guess he did.”
Approaching a new row of tents, the flap on one flew open, and Jillyan stepped out. Barefoot, dressed in red breeches and a sleeveless white tunic, her lengthy hair hung wet and unbound as if my arrival had interrupted her bath.
Walking over she gave Malaq a nod. “Brother. And you.” Taking me away from Malaq, Jillyan bore my weight nearly as well as he had. Her damp arm slid it around me, and the soap smell was still on her. It was refreshing compared to the overpowering stench that clung to me. “I don’t much care for your knack at playing dead, Shinree.”
I felt like shit, but I pulled off a grin. “Were you worried?”
“Not at all.” Her lips curved in a languid smile. “I was bored.”
“Jillyan,” Malaq cut in. “Can you take him to the healer’s tent?”
She gave Malaq a squint. “Shouldn’t you be headed there yourself…now that you two boys are done playing in the mud.”
“Later.” Transferring his swollen gaze to me, Malaq put a hand on the pack he was carrying. “I’ll leave this in your tent and post a guard outside. Recovering the Crown of Stones will at least make the boy’s death mean something.”
I wasn’t so sure. But I said nothing and Malaq walked off.
Jillyan and I went the other direction. We wound our way through the labyrinth of tents in silence a while, before she asked, “What happened with my brother?”
“Which one?”
“Very funny. But your quarrel with Malaq, though most likely entertaining, holds no real consequence.”
“I think my leg would argue that. And my face,” I said, working my sore jaw back and forth.
“Blood loss and wounded pride is one thing. But you shouldn’t have taken Neela. Draken will retaliate.”
“Draken always retaliates.”
“And you always court it.”
“What would you have me do, Jillyan? He threatened to kill her.”
“I find it doubtful Neela would have survived two years of Langorian marriage if her husband saw her as that disposable.”
Her words made me consider Neela’s claim. “What about love?”
“Shinree,” Jillyan grinned with playful eyes. “I’m flattered.”
I winced through a laugh. It faded as my thoughts returned to Neela. “Do you think it’s possible? Could Draken actually love her?”
“I think the more important question is: do you ask because you seek to uncover your enemy’s weakness? Or are you searching for more of a reason to hate him?”
“Neither. Maybe both. Honestly, though, I just don’t get it. I don’t get him. I spent years hating the power I wield. I tried to shed it, to run from it. Don’t get me wrong. I understand the attraction. I feel it now more than ever. But mine comes from a physical need. Draken’s lust for power, his hunger for dominance is a choice. He already holds the highest position in the realms. And if seizing Rella was really about righting some ancient injustice done to your people, why launch an attack against Doratae? Why continue to commit atrocities against the Rellans—people he’s now declared his citizens? It can’t all be the madness I cast on him. A good portion of that is in my father.”
“I can’t claim to fully comprehend Draken’s motives, Ian. To be honest, I’m glad you can’t as well. To understand such cruelty leaves a man open to embracing it. All I can say is: the power your kind wields is inherent. It may burden you at times, but you also take it for granted. We Langorians have had to fight and scrap for every ounce. Some feel that compulsion to struggle more keenly than others. Often, it becomes their only reason to live.” We slowed to a stop. I thought I might have dampened Jillyan’s mood, but her smile said otherwise. “I’ve had the crates moved to my tent. Come by when you’re ready. I’ve found research to be far more enjoyable with two.”
Jillyan ruffled my hair and left me outside the healer’s tent. I stood a moment, measuring the distance to the door and my ability to reach it. The blood had stopped flowing from my leg. The stick was holding it back; like plugging a dam. Putting weight on it might change that, so I kept my foot off the ground and hopped all the way to the entrance. Momentum pushed me through, and I had to grip the flap to keep from toppling over. It was far from a discreet entrance. To make things worse, people were everywhere.
Men and women of varying races were lying on pallets, lined up in rows from wall to wall. Others were tending the wounded, cleaning linens and tools, and passing out cups of water. The operation was more organized than I expected. It reminded me of a Rellan army field hospital. It smelled like it too; a stomach-heaving blend of stale blood, piss, soap, and vomit. I didn’t see Jarryd, but my prolonged presence in the doorway had drawn plenty of other eyes. I only cared for one pair.
She must not have heard I was back, as a fair amount of shock was mixed with the worry on Sienn’s face. Weariness slowed her step as she came forward. Dirt streaked her cheeks and decorated the hem of her dress. Her skirt was torn and blood speckled. Still, the square-necked, low-waist garment was flattering on Sienn’s tall frame, and the black coloring was a nice backdrop for her white hair. Pulled to the side and wrapped in a net of stones, a few loose strands caressed her cheeks like an icy, iridescent rain.
I hobbled up to meet her. “You have a lot of patients. What happened?”
“The Kaelish.” Sienn wiped a rolled up sleeve across her brow. “They came looking for their missing men.”
“It must have been a big search party to do all this.”
“King Guidon was prone to excess.” Thinking his name might have upset me, Sienn moved on quickly. “Let’s get you off that leg.”
Propping me up, she helped me cross the tent. In light of her obvious fatigue, I walked as much as I could to keep the burden off her. It wasn’t my best idea. By the time we stopped at an empty table, Sienn had to call someone over to help me up. The air was like winter on my skin. A deep ache was spreading through me. I couldn’t stop trembling.
I tried to take my mind off the pain. “You have physicians here?”
“We do. Kaelish and Langorian. There’s even an Arullan cleric. They handle the lesser wounds. Leaving my students and I to attend the more severe. Some of the physician’s ministrations are quite effective, and not all are near as barbaric as I once thought.” Sienn threw a blanket over me to stop the shivers. After a quick check of the bruises and abrasions decorating my face and upper body, she lifted the section of blanket off my leg and frowned. “This is in deep. How did you…? Never mind,” she sighed, inspecting the mud-caked tattered bandage. Part of the cloth had been driven in by the stick and was stuck inside the wound. As Sienn started cutting the excess off with a knife, I jumped. She raised her eyes to mine. “Can you hold still?”
Teeth tight, I said, “Not really.”
“My magic is needed all over camp. If I devote too much to you, I may be lacking later. So it’s important to know what level of healing is required before I begin.”
“Then tell me the spell. I’ll do it myself.”
“Without training?” Sienn stared a moment. “You already have.”
“A couple of times.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. It sort of happens when I’m casting something else.”
“Ian, what you’re doing isn’t smart. Erudite have the ability to wish a thing done, yes, but without proper instruction, thought-casting, especially subconsciously, leaves too much room for interpretation and mistakes. If your thoughts aren’t perfectly precise, you might close the skin with fragments of wood still inside, preventing it from healing properly, or causing it to become infected. There could be other, internal damage you aren’t even unaware of. It’s amazing you haven’t done harm to yourself already.”
The Crown of Stones: Magic-Scars Page 32
