Love is My Sin: Oathcursed, Book 2

by Julia Knight

  “I thought a few days’ rest in Mimirin before we travel on to Ganberg,” Aran said. “And maybe a tourney, so you’ll see how well we fight. You might wish to choose the four captains yourself, from the best you see. You shall pick the best for your country.”

  He hadn’t yet learned how to be his own man; his words sounded as though Hunter should have spoken them, but while the boy had a certain gentle charm he was not the forceful personality of the regent. The cub, not the lion. Still, it was rather sweet how he was so proud of his countries. She favoured him with a smile that he could probably only barely see through the veils. He blushed bright as an autumn apple nonetheless.

  She sneaked a look at Hunter. He’d given her the barest courtesies needed each morning and then made a point of keeping out of her way. Even when he made his greeting he wouldn’t meet her eye and left as hurriedly as he could for the head of the train. The formal dinner the night of the negotiation had been torturous. Hunter had said nothing bar a greeting and had refused to look at her, except when he glared any time she smiled at anyone other than Aran.

  It made her stomach burn just to look at Hunter now as he ignored her. Eight years she’d done her duty, and she should be over this sort of emotional reaction by now. But something about him, his strength, his seeming indifference, intrigued her. Made her want to have him, just to show that she could. No man had ever turned her down before.

  A new voice interrupted her thoughts. Valguard rode up and bowed to her and Aran. “Highness, may I beg a few minutes’ talk with Nerinna? It would be beneficial for me to teach her some of our ways. It wouldn’t do for you to make some silly error in etiquette that might alienate you from your new nobles.”

  What an odious man. Still, she nodded graciously. He smiled at her, but it reminded her of one of the gape-mouthed lizards that sometimes got into the palace gardens. Yet, maybe it would be helpful to learn what exactly lay between him and Hunter. Aran took his farewells and rode forward.

  She watched him and Hunter from the corner of her eye as she spoke with Valguard. “Your concern is noted,” she said. He had the most peculiar eyes, the faded white-blue of a desert sky, and was as brutal-looking as the rest. “And gratefully received.”

  They came to the outskirts of the port and passed one of the periodic groups of blue-domed shrines that lined the road. Travellers often left gifts in the hope of a good journey, but they were almost empty today. Valguard’s face clenched when he noticed the one paltry posy of withered flowers at Oku’s shrine. Then they were almost past, and all the Gan riders around her litter slowed and bowed their heads to the last shrine. All except Valguard. Regin’s shrine was full to overflowing with offerings. Valguard’s face suffused with hot, fuming blood and she thought he might shout something, but he managed to restrain himself. Ah yes, what was it about Regin that caused Valguard and Hunter to hate each other, and how could she use it?

  She smiled under her veils and used her sweetest voice. “So, Regin is becoming more popular in Ganheim?”

  His eyes looked as though they might pop from his head. “And that would be one such error. Oku and the rest of the Eight are worshipped in Ganheim. For all his efforts, that’s still true.” He nodded at Hunter and lowered his voice. “But liberties are taken. Too many. He tries to raise Regin to godhood.”

  “He does this on purpose? And you allow it?” Ah, obsessed men were so easy. But interesting.

  “I most certainly wish I could prevent him from trying. Yet I do what I can. There are still many who don’t succumb to this false worship he’s encouraged.”

  “But why would he do that?”

  Valguard’s eyes became hooded and he moved his horse closer to the litter so she might hear his low voice. “I don’t think he meant to originally, and it wasn’t so bad at the start. But these last months it’s spiralled out of control. You saw how he was at the negotiations. And to agree to keep the shrines!” He gave her a look of mild reproof, as though she was a small child who would soon learn better. “I’m sure he has some plan behind it. In fact, I know he has.”

  Nerinna propped herself up higher on her cushions. This sounded interesting. “And what plan would that be?”

  Valguard regarded her steadily. “My lady, no offence but…”

  “No offence, but why should you tell me? Maybe I need to see each side of what goes on in Ganheim and Armand. Maybe you would do well to have my ear, when Hunter so obviously has Aran in his palm. And surely you can’t think I want to hear his side when he won’t even speak to me.”

  He bit at the inside of his cheek for a moment. “That’s part of the plan, I believe. He’s playing the good regent, arranging Aran’s marriage to you, solidifying the Three Kingdoms. That’s not his final intent though.”

  “Which is?”

  “Firstly he encourages worship of Regin, and from that, as Regin’s heir and comrade, he gains more support. Maybe he nearly has enough, it’s difficult to judge. Maybe soon.”

  “And then what?” She was agog at his words. Hunter seemed such a straightforward man, blunt and honest. Could this all be true? She couldn’t wait to find out.

  For a moment it looked as though he wouldn’t tell her, but finally he blew out a sharp sigh and sat straighter in his saddle. He smiled in a way that made her shudder in the heat. “If anything were to happen to my lord Aran, who would have the throne?”

  “His sister surely.”

  He grimaced bitterly. “With the Reethan that would be so. Maybe even in Armand they would accept it. But in Ganheim no woman has ever controlled the throne, no matter if she would do it better. The nearest male relative. Currently the Duke of Mimirin and the Lord Regent. Hunter.”

  “He plans to assassinate Aran? No, I don’t believe that! He loves him like a son, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes to see.”

  Valguard held up a placating hand. “No, not even I believe that. He wouldn’t physically harm the boy. But Aran is…Aran’s a good lad, and might have made a fine king in good times. But we don’t have the luxury of good times. We’ve countries to rebuild, starvation to avoid. The nobles mutter that we don’t need a good king, we need a strong one. And there’s no denying Hunter’s strength. I can’t fault him there, or on his single-minded devotion to his country. But that’s what leads him astray.”

  “But what is it he plans to do?” They had entered the town now and approached the thronging streets of the docks. She worked to keep her voice down.

  “I tell you only because this may warn you what he’s about. If he has enough support, and Regin’s worshippers would support any action of his, then he would wrest the kingship from Aran, take you for his wife and have kingship over the whole of the Three Kingdoms.”

  She couldn’t speak for laughter for a moment. “He wouldn’t take me for a wife if my every word was a pound of gold.” Her laughter dissolved as a thought struck her. “And even if he would, why are you telling me now and not before an arrangement was reached, before I left the palace? Why place me in this position?” She had half a mind to call for her personal guards who rode at the four corners of her litter at a discreet distance, and let them do what they did so well. This was intolerable. If it were true.

  Intolerable, but thrilling.

  Valguard looked at her sideways. “Because, my lady, though I know these facts to be true, from the most unimpeachable of sources, I need proof for the Court. And I can’t get proof unless he makes some definite move. His denigration of the gods is subtle, but it is there. I’m ready, and all my Justice Disciples with me. My lady, this is why I came to tell you this. To warn you, to comfort you that I will not let it happen. And to ask for your help.”

  She looked ahead again to Hunter and Aran as they laughed at some joke. The cub and lion, she thought of them, and had thought too that the lion would kill for the cub. Had she been wrong? She didn’t think so, but she’d been wrong before and Valguard was right about one thing. They passed another small shrine to Regin, almost buried under f
lowers and strips of red and black silk. Aran and Hunter bowed to it as they passed and every Gan soldier followed their lead. Valguard didn’t lie about that.

  Yet Hunter’s reticence to talk to her had seemed real—or was he cleverer than she had thought? He was a smart man, had pulled two countries back from the brink of oblivion and united both in their efforts to rebuild. Every report of him said that he had the love and respect of his people, and his every action showed an undying duty to his country, his king. He’d said it himself, not even a mistress!

  She didn’t doubt that he’d similar reports on her. That he might well calculate how best to gain her interest by feigning none of his own. It was possible, and her father had drummed it into her: never discount the possible, especially in men’s motives. Who knew what lurked in another man’s heart? And the ruling of her country was at stake. The lives and wellbeing of her people. She would do well to look and listen hard, and to keep counsel with both sides. “What do you wish from me?”

  Valguard bowed low. “I will do my best to keep you from this, my lady. If you should tell me what you see and hear of his actions, if we can but find some proof, then your country will stay yours.”

  Aran let his horse fall back to them and they halted their conversation.

  “There she is.” Aran pointed to a ship tied up at dock. “Forn’s Blessing. And let’s hope that he blesses us with good weather.”

  ***

  The journey by ship was as bad as Nerinna had imagined. The wind roughened the waves and made them choppy. Dust and grit got everywhere to make men and horses equally bad-tempered.

  At least the sailors were well-mannered. More than a few were Reethan, for which she was glad, and not a one was Gan. They all had skins like leather from the sea wind and anklets covered in tiny silver bells, so that every step was a pious entreaty to Forn, merciless god of the sea. The tinkling accompanied every lurch of her stomach, every shout of the soldiers as they arranged themselves, every movement, until finally she was lulled to sleep.

  She woke early, still nauseated, and decided a breath of fresh air must help because the stink of the bilges surely didn’t. She blinked into the bright sunlight and, followed by her two timid little maids and her less-than-timid bodyguards, stepped out into the windswept day. Regin’s sword dominated the deck, pinned to the mast with offerings dripping from it. No flowers, sailors were not that way minded, but strips of red and black silk and anklets of bells adorned it. What strong feeling it must invoke in them to forsake the god that kept them alive on the ocean’s back, to worship him instead. What kind of a man had he been? She’d heard some of the tales, but how much was true?

  The sailors bowed as she passed on her way to the awning at the stern where she could take the air in shade. She ignored the sword, the small wood burner that gave off the scent of applewood, and the two Gan soldiers on their knees before it.

  Hunter sat alone under the awning and the dark look on his face gave her pause for a moment. He reached for a drink and drank it down in a shuddering gulp then seemed to relax a little. Until he saw her. His whole body tightened, his eyebrows drew down, the scar at his eye twitched, and she’d never been quite so frightened by any one man.

  Nerinna bit her lip and maybe Hunter realised how he’d affected her because he made an effort to relax. He stood, inclined his head and offered her a seat then turned to go.

  She was about to speak, to call him back, she didn’t know why, but Aran appeared then and smiled his little-boy smile. “I’m glad we’ll have some more time to get to know each other before the formal announcement.”

  She hid her odd disappointment and forced herself to smile back. They spent the morning talking about their respective countries and their ways. Nerinna kept finding her gaze drawn to where Hunter stood talking to a man towards the prow. She couldn’t be sure who the man was; he was dressed like a sailor but didn’t have their sunburned skin or their easy balance on the rolling deck. And his jewellery was very fine for a sailor, especially a large emerald ring that flashed in the sun on the forefinger of his right hand.

  Whoever he was, Hunter seemed less than pleased with what he said and after a short exchange Hunter stalked off, out of her sight. She followed him with her eyes until she noticed Valguard and Arashin talking, with no need for an interpreter. What those two had in common she had no idea, but she didn’t like the idea of them talking. What might Arashin be telling him? Dread dropped a stone in her stomach and she had to drag her attention back to Aran.

  By noon Nerinna was stifling yawns and was even glad when Valguard appeared to speak to Aran. “I believe the regent would like your company in a few matters.”

  For a dreadful moment Nerinna thought Aran would kiss her farewell but thankfully he bowed over her hand and left. Why had she agreed to this marriage so readily? She’d thought it would be just like so many other alliances she had sealed with the tribal chiefs, both for her father and on her own after the war. But she’d never thought that he would be so young for his age, or that she would be so fascinated with his regent. She watched her betrothed go, hoping that maybe she would catch a glimpse of Hunter, but hope was not rewarded.

  Valguard watched her avidly. “May I?” He indicated the cushion where Aran had sat.

  Nerinna nodded and he sank onto the silk. She was keen to resume their conversation of yesterday.

  He called for more chilled fruit juice for them both and turned a speculative eye on her. “So, my lady, what do you think of your prospective husband now that you know him a little better?”

  “He’s a sweet boy.” The truth, he was, but still a boy. And if she couldn’t take a lover after the succession was assured then… Honestly, it was preposterous. Arranged marriages where you were tied to one person you might not even like for your whole life, and not even the chance of a lover or two to distract you. What barbaric customs these Gan had. It hardly bore thinking about. Not that they would have been lovers in the sense that she would love them, but they might at least have proved amusing company.

  “Indeed he is. But he won’t be enough for you.”

  Herjan’s nose, was it that plain on her face? She put some ice in her voice. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “Just an observation, from all I’ve heard of you. Arashin is most emphatic that this is not a suitable match. That you should marry one of your own, that your traditions and ours will not mingle well. From what he has said to me, I might well agree. But also it might help in my other problem. In Ganheim we take our oaths very seriously, as you might expect from a people who revere the god of oaths and justice above all. That includes wedding vows and oaths of betrothal.”

  “So Lord Hunter informs me.”

  Valguard’s lip twitched. “Ah, yes, the Lord Regent. Of course he knows all about arranged marriages, but so far as I know, he never made her break her wedding vows. Odd how he can embrace so much of the teachings, yet break an oath in an instant.”

  She sipped at her juice. She had to pay attention, there was something more going on here. So this woman who Hunter loved was married? He’d hinted at it, but now she was sure. She wondered who it was, and whether he still loved her. And why, precisely, Valguard was telling her. “Really? He doesn’t seem the type to break an oath. He seems rather emphatic on the matter.”

  Valguard’s gape-mouthed smile was back. “Oh yes. I told you he associates with magic?”

  She shivered at the thought. “Magic, are you sure? He seems far too—” What was the word? “Far too staunch.”

  “I’m sure. He even had that accursed Ilfayne in the castle at Ganberg.”

  “Ilfayne? Isn’t he dead?”

  “If only that were true. No, he came back when Regin did, of that I’m sure. Some kyrbodan wretch brought him to wreak his evil on us. Fortunately she took Ilfayne with her when she left after the war, but Hunter had travelled with them before, allowed him, encouraged him to use his magic.”

  “And you did nothing? Aren’t you chi
ef of the Justice Disciples? Your duty should have brought him to the gallows.”

  “Him and the kyrbodan thing. She was a murderess, but Ilfayne was very persuasive on the matter of who should be regent. Very. An evil-tempered man who’s capable of melting your eyeballs without thinking twice about it is a formidable debating tool. When he says no prosecution of either of them, that Hunter should be regent, well, it becomes difficult. Impossible when the populace is convinced Hunter and Regin saved them from the sorcerer who began the war. Saved them from annihilation. That’s twice Hunter’s escaped the noose, but the third time shall be the charm. I need only proof of his using magic, or proof that he’d break his vow to Aran.”

  “Escaped the noose twice?”

  Valguard twitched his shoulders, as though he was unsure whether to speak of it. “I had him there, ready to hang for murder—a woman’s murder no less. He escaped and returned a hero, with a mage in tow.”

  It couldn’t be true surely? Hunter had been cleared of the queen’s murder when her husband had confessed. Was this some other crime? Nerinna knew so little of what had happened there in the war. So few men had come back, and reports were muddled and contradictory. But if Ilfayne the Bastard had pressured them, if they feared his return…the stories her father had told her of Ilfayne had given her dreams a dark edge for years. Still did on occasion.

  So the Gan and Armandians might allow Hunter to rule. Yes, they might. She remembered Hunter’s rough hand on her arm when she suggested she become his mistress, remembered the way his eyes burned into her. Maybe it was true. Maybe all that suppressed emotion was anger, ready to burst out at any time. Goosebumps ran up her arm.