by Jasmine Walt
“Tell me what happened,” Lorelai said, as if soothing a hurt child.
His eyes closed as his jaw clenched. “No one knows but my mother.”
Lorelai stroked his arm. “Then perhaps it’s time you told someone else.”
It was as if a dam slowly cracked deep inside Bruno. She could feel the tremors in his body as she leaned against him to provide some respite. His hand stroked the hilt of his sword. “Its name is Brother’s Blood,” he said.
Lorelai frowned. “It is your ancestral weapon?”
“Indeed.” His tone was bitter.
“But—”
“It was my father’s weapon. One of the finest ever created by House du Sabir, and my family paid a princely sum for it. Upon his death, it was given to my brother, Stavano, but he was still too small to wield it. He was only ten. So, my lady mother locked it away. He was only allowed to use it during ceremonies of state.”
Lorelai nodded, her hand squeezing his arm gently as if kneading the pain of the story from him.
“Stavano hated being kept from his sword and he was tired of using the practice blades. One day he convinced me to put my skill at lock picking to good use. I freed his sword from the armory and we took it to the upper meadow.” Bruno hung his head.
Lorelai frowned at him. “What happened then?”
Bruno smiled wryly. “My brother was always a bit of a show-off and had flourish. He wanted to show me a trick he had perfected with his practice sword. Without even waiting to test it out, he threw the great sword up in the air, meaning to catch it by the handle. He was sure this would show what a great swordsman he was. But he didn’t understand how to weigh out the sword and throw it so it would come back down handle first. He held his hand up to catch the sword and it sliced off one of his fingers before plunging through his shoulder and into his heart.”
Lorelai cringed, curling her free hand in.
They sat, only their breathing breaking the heavy silence.
“Bruno…” Lorelai finally whispered.
“It happened in the upper meadow beyond the castle.” He shook his head. “I carried his bleeding body back to the castle and laid him at the San Noemie’s feet in our chapel, begging for him to be brought back to life. For me to be taken instead.”
“No,” Lorelai gasped. Bruno’s death was unimaginable.
Bruno grimaced. “He wasn’t brought back to life and my lady mother never forgave me.”
“But it wasn’t your fault!” Lorelai insisted.
“When I came of age, I inherited the ancestral sword, and she renamed it Brother’s Blood, so I would always remember how I earned it. Now it is mine to carry.”
“You didn’t kill him,” Lorelai insisted.
“If I hadn’t unlocked the armory, he would never have had the sword that day,” Bruno said. “It is as if I wielded the sword against him myself.”
“It is nothing of the sort,” Lorelai said. “I’m sorry, but he threw a sword in the air like a jackarse and it came down and stabbed him.”
Bruno stood up abruptly. “You don’t understand.”
“I do understand.” Lorelai stood also, grabbing him and turning him towards her. “He died by his own hand, not yours. And anything else your mother has made you believe is cruel and wrong punishment.”
The struggle in his heart twisted his face and dug at her. It came from deep within him, and she knew it was nothing she could repair, as much as she wanted to. It was his battle.
“You don’t know why he died,” Lorelai continued. “Death is the determination of San Mael.”
“But my lady mother—”
“Your lady mother is a woman in grief,” Lorelai said. “She lost her beloved husband and one of her sons. She wanted a reason and someone to blame. She wrongly selected you. It is a mistake.”
“But—”
“No!” Lorelai was adamant. “I will not let you continue punishing yourself for something that was out of your hands. Are you suddenly a saint that you can control life and death?”
“No.”
“Then stop torturing yourself over this. And stop allowing your lady mother to do the same. Your brother is dead, and blaming yourself will not change this. It will only continue to ruin your relationship with one of your closest family members.”
A great rush of air escaped Bruno, his shoulders sagging forward as if a massive load had been lifted from them. “You are right.”
“I know you knights have big egos, but you are not omnipotent.” She raised her chin, challenging him. “Now I suggest you get on your horse, ride to your duchy, and see if your lady mother is interested in our help in facing the desert dwellers.”
Bruno smiled as he stared down at her. “How is it you make everything seem so simple?”
Lorelai grinned. “Because I am not a fool like you.”
Bruno leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her lips.
Lorelai’s heart raced, but she pushed him back and towards his horse. “And you may want to think of renaming your sword, as well.”
Bruno gripped the hilt of his sword as he placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up on his mare. “I don’t know about that. It is good to remember my brother when I am in battle. I fight for both of us.”
He spun the mare on her haunches and spurred her through the barn doors. Lorelai gripped her skirts as she followed him towards the light.
Taron, Andre, and Marrok spoke to Lord Perigord in the courtyard. Lorelai tried not to feel self-conscious as she stepped out of the dark recesses of the barn, but her skin heated from more than just the sun.
“Well met, Your Grace,” Lord Perigord said as the men all bowed to her.
“I would like to walk in the village,” Lorelai said.
“We will escort you,” Marrok said.
“It is not wise if you all join the queen on a walk,” Lord Perigord cautioned. “The queen is still in hiding and we are a small village. A woman of her beauty with three knightly escorts will gain talk. Even in your downplayed costumes.” He glanced at their homespun clothing.
“You must pick just one of us,” Andre said.
Lorelai’s gaze moved along the three knights. Taron, his sturdy stance and reliability, made her feel safe; Andre, whose viewpoint made him an engaging companion; and Marrok, with his conversation and rational way of looking at the world, always kept her thinking deeply.
“Just one?” she asked Lord Perigord.
“For now, Your Grace.”
18
Bruno reined in his mare on the rise above Castle Scogliere. His family citadel stood on a high cliff above the Mer Ouverte, its red stone walls creating an impervious seawall against the crashing waves. The soaring, ruddy towers looked like the castle was an extension of the earth itself. The knight inhaled the salty sea air, his heart lifting. He had left his home at the earliest possible opportunity, wanting to distance himself from his guilt over his brother’s death. But it hadn’t changed the way he felt about his home. It was one of his favorite places in the world.
After the assassination of his father, his mother ruled their land as the dowager duchess. She had been the original inheritor of the title. As with all marriages where the lady held the title, her husband had taken her name. But someone had thought that by killing the duke, House du Montbard would fall, because Stavano, Bruno’s brother and the first-born, was only five years old.
They had made a mistake.
While Stavano couldn’t yet rule, Duchess Regina could, and she was not one to be trifled with. Bruno’s mother had donned black for the loss of her true love and then hunted the killer ferociously. Upon discovering the assassin, who had used the help of mages, she summarily executed him by her own hand. She was happy to show the people of her duchy she still knew how to wield the sword. Though she had no jurisdiction over mages, who only answered to Ayanne the Young, she had expelled all of the mages from Moreno when she discovered they had helped her husband’s murderer.
She did
n’t stop there. His lady mother had purged the peninsula of all suspected of being against House du Montbard. The vineyards ran red with the blood of its people. But she was a true and just liege and able to identify exactly how deep the corruption ran and cleanse the land without mistakes. Moreno had recovered and was intensely loyal to the lady of the land.
But Duchess Regina couldn’t stand the sight of her son, not when she discovered he was responsible for the death of his brother. After Stavano died, Bruno’s sister, Terni, became the heir to the duchy. As such, she had to attend everything with their mother. Bruno hadn’t just lost a brother that day. He lost his mother and his sister as well.
Although he was the third child of his house and technically ineligible to challenge the Order of the Regent for a position, his mother had gotten him special dispensation to make the contest. Bruno had delivered a crippling wound to earn his place in the brotherhood. Now, they were more his family than his own house.
Bruno knew better than to enter Castle Scogliere through the main gates. With a price on his head, it was more prudent to remain inconspicuous. Though he was not often at his house, he had grown up here and many people would recognize him. They might not turn him in, but if word got out he was around, it might bring some unsavory people to his house. He circled his mare around the side of the town and entered through a rarely used garden gate near the edge of the cliff. It was a private family gate and only three people held keys to it. His mother, his sister, and him. When the key twisted in the lock, he was relieved. His mother hadn’t changed it.
That was a good sign.
It didn’t take Bruno long to find his mother. She was nothing if not predictable. She went to temple, took her meals, heard petitions, rested, and went for walks at precisely the same times every day. Arriving at midday, he found her taking a private meal with his sister on the terrace overlooking the inner courtyard.
“Bruno!” Terni exclaimed, a shocked smile erupting on her face. But she was halfway out of her seat when she remembered herself, eyes flicking quickly to her mother, who had barely glanced up. Terni looked apologetically at Bruno, but that didn’t stop him. He stepped forward and kissed her on the top of her decadent pile of dark curls.
“You look as ravishing as ever, Terni,” he said. “As do you, mother.”
“Bruno,” his mother said, taking another sip of her soup. “I was expecting you at some point.”
Bruno stepped forward, kneeling before his mother for a blessing. He kept his head bowed and waited until the spoon clattered and her hands rested on his head.
“May San Noemie ever watch over you and fill your heart,” she said.
He raised three fingers in respect as he stood and waited again for her to invite him to sit. She stared at him for such a long time that he doubted she would, but finally, she motioned towards a chair. Bruno was a bit annoyed at the pang of gratitude that shot through him.
“We received your messenger, lady mother, and I came to check on your welfare.”
“I was curious to see if you would come, or if Her Grace would send a messenger,” Lady Montbard said, snapping her fingers. A servant was there almost instantly, removing the half-finished bowl of soup. “Bring my son some meat.”
“So, you know what I will ask?”
“It was never my intention you would serve a disgraced regent.” Lady Montbard tapped a finger quietly on the table. “What makes you think I shall not turn you in to the king?”
“Mother,” Terni whispered, but her reprimand had no bite.
Bruno swallowed. The thought had crossed his mind. “You are a woman who likes to investigate and know the details. I knew you would hear me out.”
“We have problems of our own.” Her stern demeanor didn’t alter.
“Your messenger spoke of the desert dwellers.”
“His words were for Lord Perigord,” Lady Montbard said. “I have sent word to every lord and lady in the region to see if they will support us in fighting off the desert dwellers. At the time, I did not know Queen Lorelai and the Order of the Regent were there.”
“Oh. How—”
“My messenger rides faster than you.” Lady Montbard stared down her imperious nose at Bruno.
“Right,” Bruno said. “And?”
“I received a letter from King Guntram saying he will not send troops while you and the others are in this region. It seems unlikely, without the support of the kingdom’s troops, Moreno will be able to withstand a full attack of the desert dwellers.”
Terni’s hands gripped into fists on the table.
Bruno frowned. Would his mother really be so cold to her own blood? “So, you would have us turn ourselves in?”
“It is a dilemma.”
The knight swallowed, his stomach twisting. “The life of your son weighed out against the life of your people,” he said slowly.
“Precisely.” Lady Montbard’s words were clipped.
Bruno didn’t like his chances, but he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. “You have always been a woman of honor. I do not believe you can support a dishonorable king who has achieved his throne through fratricide.”
“I have heard rumors of this.” She frowned. “Is there any proof?”
The servant placed a large platter of steaming meat and vegetables before Bruno. He breathed in the rich, tangy scent of home-cooked venison. “I see Patrice is still in the kitchen.”
“Is there any proof?” Lady Montbard repeated as the servant placed a cup of tea before her.
“No.” Bruno shrugged as he grabbed a hunk of meat. “The queen says he so much as confessed it to her as he asked her to be his second wife.”
“Which is why she refused?” Lady Montbard asked.
Bruno was pretty sure that wasn’t the only reason Lorelai had insisted she wouldn’t marry Guntram. “She doesn’t love him.”
Lady Montbard’s eyes narrowed. “What matters love in these circumstances?”
“How can you say that?” Bruno asked. “You still wear black for my lord father. Would you have accepted a proposal on his deathbed?”
“It doesn’t mean Guntram killed the king.”
This wasn’t going well, and Bruno needed his mother on their side. Without her, he would be forced to honor his word and take Lorelai back to Guntram. He glanced at his sister for some support, but Terni only gave a slight shrug, which didn’t surprise Bruno in the slightest. His sister was a kind, loving woman, but never stood up to their mother.
“He did not deny it when she accused him,” Bruno said. “And he has the bone mage in his pocket.”
“Do not use my dislike of mages for your benefit.” Lady Montbard waved her hand. “Do you understand the gravity of what you ask? You are here to ask me to support a person who is essentially a usurper to the appropriate heir to the throne. Not only will this create a problem here, with the desert dwellers attacking, but it will mean an unsteady transfer of power. Even if we beat the desert dwellers, we will be thrown into civil war. Men will be called to fight, women left to manage farms, and people will die.”
“I know the dangers,” Bruno said tightly.
“You know nothing!” Lady Montbard exclaimed, slapping her hand on the table. “Do you know what happens to those people who are left? The ones who can’t manage their farms?”
The shantytown flashed into Bruno’s mind. “Yes.”
“You have seen the poison?” his lady mother asked.
“It is here, too?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Lady Montbard said. “I am still trying to root out the lord or lady who is responsible for this proliferation.”
“They are manufacturing it for the mages,” Bruno said.
“Really?” Lady Montbard asked, raising an eyebrow. “That is interesting. And this is hearsay, too?”
“No,” Bruno said. “Well, yes, I suppose it is. But the only people who can wield it in its full form are the mages.”
“True,” Lady Montbard said, placin
g her teacup delicately back in its saucer. “So, have you come here to beg support for your hopeless cause?”
“No, lady mother. I have not. My queen was asked to lead the Western Region troops against the desert dwellers. She did not want to do so without your approval.”
Terni looked pleasantly surprised at that.
Lady Montbard breathed deeply and closed her eyes. “Do you realize the desert dwellers would most likely not even be attacking if your queen had not escaped? If she had simply married the king?”
“What?” Bruno couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“The desert dwellers smell weakness amongst our noble houses and are coming for blood,” she said. “They will start with the blood of Moreno. I am tired of battles, so very weary. It is as if they never end here. I grew up to my grandparents’ stories of the battles that left ruin across the kingdom. Almost an entire generation was wiped out. Men and women lost their sons, brothers, and fathers. And now, because your queen will defy the king who is rightfully on the throne, more people will die. People don’t care who is on the throne, son. They only care that there is a clean transfer of power. The king was dying and without an heir. I saw him at the joust. Even if what you say is true, who cares if his brother hurried it along a few months? By the laws of Valliere, Guntram is the rightful heir.”
Bruno stood abruptly, dropping a piece of venison back on the platter. “Get my horse,” he ordered the servant. He would not sit here and listen to his mother spew such poison from her lips, especially not about the king he had faithfully served for so many years. “There is nothing to be gained from this.”
19
The ruins of Castle Togene stood alone on a windswept plane. In a kingdom of thick stone castles set on high vistas, Togene was markedly different, from another era. Sturdy yet delicate, it was made of crumbling terraces and spindly towers layered with intricately patterned, small white tiles.
Lorelai stood on the derelict battlement, looking over the desolate land. There was no flag or fire or movement anywhere on the far-stretching horizon. The lords and ladies of the Western Region and their bannermen would not show. She would need to return to Castle Ashford and submit herself to Guntram. If these people would not fight beneath her banner, they deserved the protection of the monarch.
