“It’s not going to happen,” Gavin said doggedly.
“You would have gone straight to Elban if we’d told you, and you know it,” Judah said.
“Which is what I’m still going to do, except now Theron’s half-dead. Congratulations, both of you. Nice work, well done.” Elly’s tone was neutral, almost matter-of fact. But her words couldn’t have hurt Judah more if they’d been made of fire.
“What happened to Theron isn’t my fault,” Gavin said. “And it’s certainly not Judah’s. But it doesn’t matter. You’re not marrying Elban.”
“I’m not, am I?” Still neutral. A bit curious, if anything. “How do you plan to stop me?”
“I’m going to kill him,” Gavin said in almost the same tone.
Elly’s eyebrows went up. “You’re not serious.”
“Competely.”
Elly took a long, deliberate breath, and then let it out. “Doesn’t that plan rather depend on the willingness of the guards, the courtiers, and the Seneschal to go along with it? That aside, have you even stopped to consider who exactly it is who doesn’t want me to marry Elban?” She gestured toward the closed bedroom door. “Because clearly somebody feels rather strongly about it. And I suppose it’s possible that they just think Theron would be—what did you call him? A lousy commander? But murder seems like a drastic choice to avoid something that might never happen. I doubt you’ve made any secret of your plan to guild him.”
Gavin said nothing.
“If you don’t marry me, Gavin, who will you marry? You need an heir. They won’t just let you play forever.” Elly’s emphasis on the word was ugly.
Judah could feel in her muscles how much Gavin hated this conversation. She could feel his confusion; this Elly was not at all the tolerant friend he’d been paying lazy court to since they were eight years old. Judah herself was less surprised. “Porterfield,” he said. “That’ll be the public story, that I’m renouncing you for her.” Then, too quickly, “Which I would never do of my own volition. Which I will never do.”
“Instead, you’ll kill Elban,” Elly said.
“Yes.” He sounded defiant. “I told you, Elly. None of this will happen.”
“And has it occurred to you,” Elly said dryly, “that there might be some anti-Porterfield faction that doesn’t want it to happen? Considering that courtiers are courtiers, and that if Theron’s dead he can’t be the stick Elban is beating you with. No, there’s no other answer. I’m marrying Elban. Unless you really do have the Seneschal on your side, Gavin.”
Gavin’s eyes slid uncertainly toward Judah, then away. “I don’t. But I refuse—”
Elly laughed. “How long have you lived here? Anyone would think you’re the one from the province full of sheep, not me.” Her laughter melted into anger, liquid and caustic. “You don’t get to refuse. I don’t get to refuse. The stupid Porterfield girl doesn’t get to refuse, although she might not know it. All I do is read family histories, Gavin. Generations of them. Nobody gets to refuse.” Elly’s voice had not wavered once in this entire horrible conversation, but it did now. Judah knew that the waver was not grief but rage.
Gavin was quiet, deflated. Wrestling with something. Finally he said, “Elly, he’s a monster.”
Her shoulders twitched. “I come from a long line of monsters. I’m not afraid.” She stood up and held her hand out to him. The gesture was uncomfortably formal. “Thank you for not killing Theron.”
“You would never have forgiven me.” Gavin watched her hand as if it pained him, and made no move to take it.
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t have.”
* * *
She arranged an audience with Elban before it had even occurred to Judah that such a thing was possible. They had an hour to wait. Judah spent it with Theron. Every lethargic motion of his head felt like a reproach, a reminder that she’d done nothing while Theron’s mind drained away. Elly was building her own pyre to throw herself on and save them all. Nothing Judah did could help her. Sitting with Theron was nothing compared to the price Elly had volunteered to pay. Judah swore privately that she would take care of Theron as long as he needed it. She had no other purpose; she would devote herself to him.
Still, when Elly asked her to come with her to see Elban, Judah said, “If you want me to,” though it meant leaving Theron alone. Judah knew her presence in Elban’s study would not improve his mood any, but it might draw fire away from Elly. To that end, she would have gone in wild and rumpled as she was, but Elly insisted that Judah put on a clean dress, and made her sit to have her hair rebraided, so she’d be as presentable as possible. Elly herself wore the same dress she’d worn all day, with her hair in one braid that she pinned up out of her way. Practical, but plain—as plain as someone as lovely as Elly could be. She would not dress up for Elban. He might marry her, but she wouldn’t play bride for him.
“I’m sorry,” Judah said while Elly did her hair. “We should have told you.”
“Yes,” Elly said. Then, unexpectedly, she leaned her head down on top of Judah’s, and put her arms around Judah’s shoulders. Judah put her hands over Elly’s.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and neither of them said anything more.
When the two women emerged from the bedroom into the parlor, Gavin was waiting by the door. He’d changed his shirt and cleaned his boots. The set of his jaw was stubborn. “Theron’s asleep. We’ll lock the door. I’m not letting the two of you go alone.”
Elly shrugged. “Do as you like.”
They did not speak at all as they made their way through the corridors.
Judah hadn’t been in Elban’s study since she was eight years old. The smell of it hit her like a blow: fire, brandy, leather, sweat. The dark, wicked tobacco Elban smoked. The room looked different by gaslight; brighter, colder. The books in the library, back when Judah had been allowed in the library, felt like friends she hadn’t met yet; Elban’s books felt like guards at a fortress. A glass-fronted cabinet held the good Sevedran wine Elban drank, a carved stone medallion hanging from the neck of each bottle. One small, delicately paned window was set into the wall, but the hour was late and the window was black.
Elban sat at the huge desk, pen in hand, book open to a blank page in front of him. In the purplish lamplight, he seemed even more cadaverous than usual, his long white hair hanging over his shoulders like a shroud. At the sound of Gavin closing the door, he looked up. “You’re all here,” he said. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You always did travel in a pack.”
A big leather sofa and two armchairs were arranged in front of the fireplace, where a hot fire burned. He gestured toward the sofa. Elly sat down, her movements as fluid and dignified as if she were at a state dinner. Gavin sat on one side of her, Judah the other. As if they could offer her some protection, merely by being there. “Not quite all of us,” Elly said. “Theron is ill.”
Closing the book and crossing the room to sit in one of the big armchairs, Elban said, “I heard. Will he live?”
“He’s recovering.”
An iron poker rested in the heart of the blazing fire. Elban took a neatly rolled cigarette from the tray on the table and, leaning over, picked up the glowing poker and touched the cigarette to its tip. “It would be like him, after all these years of coughing and stuttering around the place, to die just now when it was least convenient.” He blew a cloud of smoke into the air. His pale eyes studied Elly. “Your value is dropping, Tiernan. I bought you from your father for six hundred pieces of gold, but my son traded you away to save a half-blind weakling who might die tomorrow, anyway.”
On the other side of Elly, Judah felt Gavin’s skin go hot. But Elly’s tone was smooth and even, without a single ragged edge. “Theron is worth more than all of us put together. And I wasn’t traded away this time. This is my decision.”
“Banish the word my from your vocabulary, Tiernan. No
thing belongs to you.” He flicked the ash of the cigarette onto the carpet. “Well, say what you came here to say.”
Elly’s chin lifted. Gavin’s stomach was a sick void. “I’ll marry you. But I want your word. Theron lives.”
“If fate wills it.”
“I hope fate does will it, then, because if anything happens to him, I’ll throw myself off the solstice balcony. Right into the Lord’s Square.” It didn’t sound like an idle threat.
“Really?” Elban looked at her with no more than mild interest. “The girl who has to be forcibly dragged onto that very balcony, threatening to plummet to her death from it? How gruesome. Wouldn’t it be easier just to kill me?”
Every muscle in Gavin’s body tensed. Judah’s, too. Elly didn’t move.
“In my sleep, perhaps, after a night of conjugal bliss? You wouldn’t be the first to leave my bed with murderous intent, Tiernan. Of course, you could try it right now.” Elban spoke cordially, as if he were offering them all tea. “There are three of you and only one of me. Only one of you has any combat training, and I’ve killed more men than I can count—but still.”
“I don’t imagine that would end well for us,” Elly said.
“Very perceptive.” Elban raised his cigarette toward her in salute. “My guards all come from Highfall Prison, you know. The Seneschal selects them. Most were under death sentences—petty offenses, theft or fighting. Occasionally worse. Occasionally much worse.” He spoke like a tutor lecturing them on some subject he knew so well it no longer interested him. “All of them are clever enough to recognize that they’ve been rescued. All of them know they owe me their lives. They are fiercely loyal.” The smoke from his cigarette circled his head. “I’ve assigned one to each of you. If I’m found dead tonight, or any night, none of you will see sunrise. If my House falls, you will all fall with it. And you’ll die horrible deaths. Long. Painful. Degrading.”
“Maybe it would be worth it,” Gavin said, so low he was barely audible.
“Maybe so.” Elban sounded pleased. He threw his cigarette into the fire and stood up. With two graceful, menacing steps—no movement wasted, his eyes never leaving his son—he stood in front of Gavin. Who was on his feet, now, too; awkward by comparison, but standing between Elly and his father. The two men were of a height. Gavin had Elban’s jaw, and his mouth. That mouth, Judah thought illogically: the thin lips, the curl at the corner that could be amused or endearing or, like Elban’s, cruel. Theron had it, too. It was in every portrait, on every carved sarcophagus in the crypt, all the way back to the beginning of Elban’s line. Everyone always spoke of Gavin as resembling his mother but now Judah saw that with the passage of a certain number and quality of years, he would look very like the man standing in front of him.
“Come on, then.” The taunt in Elban’s voice was so light. It would be easy to miss. “Take that stupid dagger you carry and put it in my throat. Patricide is a noble enough death.”
Judah could practically feel the knife in Gavin’s hand, his desire was so strong.
“But when the deed is done,” Elban said, “take the knife from my throat and put it in your own, so you won’t have to watch what happens to these two. Because you will watch; that’s part of my orders for you.” The curl in the corner of his mouth deepened. “Unless you kill them, too. But after what I saw on the hunt, I very much doubt you can do that.”
Gavin didn’t move. Judah didn’t even think Elly was breathing.
Elban snorted and sat down. “As I thought. Suicide would have the same result, Eleanor of Tiernan. After your suffering ends, that of those you leave behind will be long and luxurious. If I remain alive to enjoy it, it will last all the longer. As I said before, nothing belongs to you. Not even your life. You live at my indulgence and you will die that way. Please me, and I’ll make your death quick.”
“You know, Lord Elban,” Elly said, “it is possible to rule without being an utter monster.”
Elban blinked. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Who’s your model for that, Tiernan? Your father? He once burned a mill full of children to punish their parents for refusing to pay his taxes. It’s a good story. Ask him to tell it to you, if you ever see him again.” The faint taunt was back in his voice. “Perhaps we should invite him to the wedding. Your father, and all of your brothers.”
Elly didn’t answer. Her hands were carefully folded in her lap but her clenched knuckles were white. She spoke often of her mother, who’d died when she was fifteen, but rarely of her father. Never of her brothers.
The Lord of the City leaned back in his chair and eyed her speculatively, his pale eyes showing more interest than they had. “I’ll give you this, heir. Your Tiernan has courage. Of course, she’s not yours anymore. But Porterfield will suit you well enough. Just let her put a collar around your neck, and be a good dog, and she probably won’t be too hard on you.”
Gavin’s jaw was clenched so hard that Judah’s teeth hurt, but he still said nothing. “What about Theron?” Elly said.
“He lives. For now.”
“‘For now’ wasn’t the deal,” Gavin said.
Elban smiled. It was a sleepy, slow smile, full of confidence and loathing. “Oh, it won’t be me that kills him. A few years from now, when you love the city a little more and your childhood a little less, when you find yourself not sleeping so well, knowing there’s another living claimant to the throne—you’ll find yourself making plans, heir. Or, more likely, letting Porterfield make them for you. About your brother, and about that.” He nodded toward Judah. The curl in his lip spoke of disgust, now.
Elly took Judah’s hand, her grip fierce and protective. “She’s not part of this,” she said, just as Gavin said, “She’s fine the way she is.”
“She looks like a foreign whore,” Elban said. “Not that I have any objection to foreign whores, as such, but I generally don’t let them live in my House. And nor will your new bride, unless I’m mistaking the Porterfields to their very essence. So tell me: until we break that filthy bond, how do you intend to protect the little pet you’ve grown so fond of?”
Judah felt twin dull aches in her palms. Not a signal: Gavin’s fists were clenched, his fingers digging brutally into his palms. Elly still held Judah’s hand. Judah wished she would put it down. The contrast between Elly’s soft fingers and Gavin’s hard ones was distracting and difficult.
“I’ll talk to Amie.” Gavin’s heart was pounding, and that was how Judah knew that talking to Amie would do no good. “Or I’ll find somewhere safe, where Amie can’t get to her. A guild, maybe.” He didn’t want to guild Judah out. She didn’t want to be guilded.
“Difficult to protect her from so far away,” Elban said. “And guilds get raided, particularly those that accept women. Yes, a guilded woman’s life is—difficult.” The word left Elban’s lips like a breath. “What if she were injured? What if she sickened?”
Gavin’s heart pounded harder. Judah found herself breathing fast. He sounded desperate. “An apartment in the House, then. Somewhere out of the way.”
“And when she grows tired of being out of the way? When she wants to go for a stroll in the sunlight? How will Porterfield react, when they meet on the Promenade?”
Judah already knew the answer. The Seneschal had given it to her. Gavin, though, was just figuring it out. “Then—she won’t—” He stopped. His face was stoic but fear and pain radiated from the rest of him.
“Won’t what? Won’t go for a walk? Surely you don’t mean to imprison your devoted little pet, do you, heir?”
Walled into a tower. That’s where she’d be. That’s what he’d do; what he’d have to do, to keep them both alive.
“No.” But Gavin swallowed hard enough to make Judah’s throat hurt.
“What else would it be called, then, when you put her someplace where she won’t ever be seen or heard from again? Because that’s the only wa
y to make your Lady forget her, and as long as she’s not forgotten, she’ll be in danger. And so will you.”
“You forget.” Elly’s voice rang out, clear and cutting. “Amie won’t be Lady of the City, not for a long time. I will be.”
Clearly enjoying himself, Elban said, “You? Power comes from connections, and you have none. We’ve never let you make any. You’ll look very pretty next to me on the dais, and I’m sure I’ll enjoy the time we spend together, but you’re nothing.”
Elly’s fingers gripped Judah’s. Gavin said, “I will not let either of them be hurt.”
“The Tiernan is mine, and I will do with her as I please, and you will have nothing to say about it. And as for the foundling, you will, indeed, let Amie hurt her, if that’s what she wants. Because the more attachment you show to her, the more Porterfield will resent her, and the more pain you’ll both have to bear. And the more pain you bear, the harder it will be to keep your secret, and if you fail to keep your secret, well—” Elban shrugged. “The Porterfields aren’t known for their empathetic hearts. I would not count on Amie’s love for protection, once she understands just how easy you are to kill.” He stood up. “Come here, foundling.”
Judah had no choice but to obey. The image of him next to Gavin was still in her head. Same height. Same jaw. Pain flickered on the ball of her thumb: the oldest of their signals, going back years. Going back, in fact, to this very study. Here with you.
Elban surveyed her. “What’s that stupid name Clorin gave you, foundling?”
“Judah.” She didn’t believe for an instant that he didn’t know it.
He snorted. “Do you know the judah vine, foundling? It grows in the north. It’s a parasite. Pretty flowers, but it ruins everything it touches. So I suppose it’s not a bad name for you, at that.” He smelled like nothing. All Judah could smell was cigarette smoke and the fire. She might as well have been standing there alone. He picked up the poker resting in the coals. The end was shaped with a point, a hook and a barb. “My son thinks he loves you. He has not yet learned that there’s no such thing. There is convenience, pleasure, utility and gain, and that’s all. One day, he will realize that he doesn’t love anyone at all. Not the Tiernan, not his scrawny, unsatisfying brother, and not you.”
The Unwilling Page 17
