Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4)

by H. Jane Harrington

  Kir had been holding her breath, riveted through Lili's story. “What about Immins? He must have been furious when you didn't return.”

  “Oh, I did return. I handed him a false report, told him the target had been eliminated, then slipped into his bed. That night as he slept, the poisoned hairpin meant for Ulivall found Immins' neck instead. I burnt his manor to the ground, but not before I found the original contract scroll. The man who had contracted Ulivall's death was one of the more prominent slave traders in Aquiline. He did not like the young Hilian army that was protecting the runaway slaves, and he thought to cut the head off the proverbial snake. I cut off his, instead, and brought it to Ulivall. Then, I took up my post at Ulivall's side. He found my talents useful and I found Hili irresistible. When Queen Palinora and Guardian Arrelius arrived in Hilihar, Ulivall placed me as the Queen's attendant to determine how trustworthy they were. After the Battle of Kion Rising, he assigned me to you, to serve as your silent protection.”

  “Because nobody would suspect my attendant was a deadly guard and trained dokainin. And now I understand why my Second Lady is stalking me from treetops. Ulivall's as paranoid as Malacar.”

  Lili smiled insightfully. “He knows you can defend yourself, but he also knows that it's wise to have an extra set of eyes. I will never engage unless absolutely necessary—my cover depends on everyone thinking I am simply an attendant. Ulivall and the Circle have gone all in, Kir. Everything they have gambled is riding on you. Your safety is paramount, tied with Hili's. I can't be with you all the time, but I'll shadow you whenever I have opportunity to slip away from my other duties. You truly are my dearest friend—the only one I've ever had. I only want your safety.”

  Kir clasped Lili's arm in the standard sign of friendship.

  “You'll have to show me some of your tengugate. I'd love to learn a few of your stealth moves,” Kir said, as they started working their way toward the ground.

  “I can show you one right now,” Lili offered. “It's a way to descend quickly, using Wind coupled with Illusory spells and speed.”

  Before Kir could even offer her enthusiasm, Lili was already landing gracefully at the foot of the trunk. She had moved so quickly, Kir had barely been able to track her.

  Kir had to stop herself from laughing. “Oh, you've got to teach me that one!”

  “Let's practice now.”

  Kir sat and dangled her feet over the large branch. “I'm ready. What do I do?”

  Lili was about to give instruction, but she turned abruptly at some happening behind her.

  “Lili, have you seen Kir? Nobody knows where she is. I'm about to sound the alarm,” Malacar's tense voice called from somewhere Kir couldn't see, for the thick leaves that blocked her view.

  “She's...” Lili hesitated and glanced up to Kir's branch apologetically.

  Malacar appeared at Lili's side, and he followed her gaze upward. “Don't tell me.”

  Kir waggled teasing fingers at her brother. He didn't look very pleased.

  “What in Eskanna's name are you playing at, Kiriana Ellesainia de Valoria?” he barked, using her longer name like an angry parent scolding their child. “Have you lost your blazing mind? If you were to fall—”

  “Damnation, Lunchbox! I'm not a sapling, and I don't need a nursie to change my nappies.” Kir started down the branches the old fashioned way. It was possible Malacar already knew Lili's secret and story, but it wasn't Kir's place to betray it if not. “I just wanted for some quiet time away from overbearing martinets and their scowls. Can't I get any peace and solitude around here?”

  “Not while you have no Guardians,” he fumed.

  “You're ten Guardians in one. Can't stomach any more than I already got!” Kir growled, rolling her eyes. She flipped around the branches acrobatically, then somersaulted to the ground from a height that would anger him further, just for the sake of showing him she could. She landed perfectly, popping upright with flair. She didn't have to say another word. The theatrical little stunt threw her dexterity in his face. “Like I would fall. Keh!”

  Malacar shook his head. “She's all yours, Lili. Maybe you can get through her fool head.” He turned on his heel and stomped back toward the tent line.

  Kir huffed and crossed her arms. “I take it back. Ulivall's nowhere near as paranoid as Malacar.” Lili looked like she was about to defend him, so Kir cut her off before she could voice it. “I know. I know. He's only out for my safety. At this rate, I'm gonna live to be two hundred!”

  When Lili and Kir returned to the tent, Malacar wasn't inside. It was for the best. Kir wasn't keen on palling around with him when they were both still pampering their stubborn streaks.

  To fan away the flames of frustration, Kir decided to take a walk through the camp. Her presence did not go unnoticed. Every conversation she stumbled upon seemed to stop awkwardly, replaced with forced smiles and sugar-logged small talk. There was something in their eyes that Kir couldn't finger. If only she had Scilio's gift for reading. It didn't take long before she was ready to head back to her tent. The interactions were too superficial to be of any validation.

  Melia and Lili were in Kir's bedchamber, folding and packing garments that smelled fresh from Gressie's laundry line. The contents of Kir's trunk were spread out for organization.

  “We're almost done here,” Melia reported as Kir plopped on her cot sullenly.

  “What are people saying?” Kir asked. The question was sword-thrust forthright and out of the blue, so it was understandable when Melia cocked her head in confusion. “When you're out there with the other Karmines, what's the word? I'm in a little bubble here. The minute I walk by, people batten down their honest mouths. They plaster phony smiles and facades all over their faces. They're all so cloying it's giving me a belly ache. Tell me truly. What's the impression? I can't conduct a symphony if I don't know the cadence of the song. I could use Vann's alterlet and walk among them to get an honest assessment, but I'm asking you first.”

  Melia and Lili exchanged covert glances that were not lost on Kir.

  “I mean it,” Kir warned. “Full forward honest. Even if it's brutal. I really want to know how people are seeing things. How they're seeing me.”

  “I wouldn't say spirits are high. The length of the trip has dampened them a bit, but the Karmines are thankful to be in Aquiline. The Hilians anticipate getting home, and they're antsy. Mostly, everyone's just worried about you,” Melia soothed.

  “Them, too? Malacar's not the only one who thinks I'm helpless?”

  “It's not that, Kiriana,” Melia supplied. “The Karmines know what losing Mirhana did to you. After losing His Majesty, they just—”

  “Think I'm batty?” Kir interrupted.

  Lili and Melia exchanged glances again. They looked loaded with sympathy.

  “They think you're not grieving well. That you're in denial.”

  “Grieving? I thought I made it perfectly clear before, back in Mirhana's cave, that Vann's not dead. If we believe him to be, we lose our drive to rescue him. I can't think that way. I can't even hint of it, or I'll... No. I need to have a little talk with everyone. Summon the encampment. I'll set them all straight.”

  “Perhaps that's not the best strategy,” Lili said carefully. “They may see it as a defensive move. As the desperate act of a love that can't let go. It may lend to their fears.”

  “I don't know what to do.” Such an admission tasted bitter on the lips. Kir fingered the soulwhisper and sighed heavily.

  Part of her wondered if the Karmines were right. Maybe rescuing Vann was a forlorn hope and he really was gone forever. Kir had refused to address any possibility of failure because she couldn't bear the consequences of such a thought. Her vehement denial of that possible outcome was the only thing keeping Kir from shattering all over again.

  “Stay the course, as you've been doing,” Lili said confidently. “Nothing has to change. Continue holding your head up. Continue being their Qu
een Kiriana. Prove with your actions that you are fine.”

  Melia smiled brightly. “Absolutely. When His Majesty is with us again, they'll realize how you were right from the start.”

  Kir tried for a pathetic smile. “I just wish they understood that now. It doesn't help my confidence that theirs is lacking.”

  “It does no good to dwell on things outside your control. You have no evidence to convince them otherwise, so don't expend mental resources on a battle that has no relevance to the war,” Lili advised. “Keep your sights fixed on saving Vann, just as you've been. It doesn't matter whether or not the caravan believes it's possible. They will follow you regardless.”

  It wasn't padding or indulgence. Their words were sincere with no sugar coating. No false smiles. Kir appreciated candor, even when it wasn't rosy. She nodded solidly and thanked them with the grip in her wrist clasping.

  Melia hadn't completely finished the organization, so Kir pulled away and scooped up the last stack of clothes. “Let's get this gear stowed so we can join the caravan around the fire. I've got some staying the course to do out there.”

  With the three of them, it only took a minute to get it all done. Having the trunk in order now would save time in the morning. Melia handed over the last items, Scilio's tabard and journal.

  “I remember you and Mirhana giggling over your journals all those years ago,” Melia said nostalgically as Lili folded the tabard and placed it on Kir's in the trunk. “I always wondered what secret gems you two were guarding.”

  The thought tickled Kir's smileybone. “We had some good times with those journals. Mirhana liked to draw her horses, and I wrote wretched, sappy poems. Don't you dare leak that to Scilio, because I'll never live it down.”

  Since the day they met, Scilio had been a burr under Kir's saddle. He was confoundingly charming, an incorrigible lech, and the most annoyingly likable wencher Kir had the good fortune to know. Despite her brother's big head and penchant for pestering her, Kir missed him terribly. She missed his competitive ribbing and his colorful imagination. Funny how it was so much easier to appreciate someone's quirks when they weren't there.

  “Have you read any of his secrets? You've got Guardian Scilio's journal at your disposal. Haven't you ever wondered about the things he's written of you?” Melia said conspiratorially.

  Kir rubbed her fingers over the cover reverently. If there was one thing in the world that represented Scilio to Kir's mind, other than his purple eyes, it was his treasured journal. The book was as much a part of him as his ponytail had been. Scilio had left it with Kir for safe keeping before embarking for Havenlen. It documented too much.

  “No, it didn't seem right. I never asked his permission and he can't snatch it away if he doesn't want me nosing.”

  Lili laughed. “If there's one thing I know, the life and times of Toma Scilio are an open book. He flaunted what he had, and what he thought he had. I'm quite certain his journal is fair game to anyone brave enough to peek inside his perspective.”

  “That's true. He was never really protective of it. He used to loan it to Vann for sketching...” It felt very much like they were speaking about the dead.

  “His Majesty was—is an artist?” Melia asked.

  “Vann always loved to draw. He's Alokien-touched,” Kir said without thinking. Of course Vann was gifted by the God of the Creatives. Alokien had been influencing the royal bloodline for countless ages, from what Scilio had said. “His own sketch journal is in the trunk in Lyndal's chamber. You can look through it if you want. I know Vann wouldn't mind.”

  “Here are a few of his sketches,” Lili offered to Melia, flipping Scilio's journal open in Kir's lap. She thumbed through the pages until she found a landscape.

  “That's the one Vann drew on the road to Northport. It summoned the cloakers and led to the battle where Scilio became a Guardian,” Kir recalled. She handed the book over to Melia. When she was done admiring it, Melia flipped the page. The opposite one was filled with Scilio's observations and some attempts at ballad lyrics. A few later, Melia found Scilio's comical drawing of Kir, complete with scowl and ugly old hat. The one on the opposite page had been Kir's retribution, a goofy rendition of stick-like Vann and lanky Scilio seated on a log, hearts floating above their heads. Melia and Lili dissolved to laughter at the ridiculous sketches. Kir couldn't help but join them.

  “Those were from the evening we met Malacar. The two Creatives were acting like cackling schoolboys, so I had to return the favor.” Somehow, reminiscing lightened Kir's heart a degree. Vann and Scilio were a world away, but they were right there in the tent at the same time. They had left a little piece of themselves in the journal, and it had documented more than just the events of their journey. It was an immortalized piece of their inner selves, and of the bond they shared.

  Lili took the journal from Melia and flipped further. She read one of Scilio's poems aloud, then Melia took a turn orating snippets of the passages. Kir listened quietly, fascinated by the insights into her brother's views and his exaggerated sense of humor. The descriptions of his intimacy with Lili were thankfully not graphic, but tender and complimentary. The overblown narration of the Hilian welcoming feast and Kir's additions to his plate were knee-slapping funny.

  When Lili took her turn in thumbing through, she ended up later in the book. She read the passage quietly to herself first while she waited for Kir and Melia to compose themselves. The creases at Lili's eyes eased as her mood changed from jovial to reverent, and she cleared her throat before she began.

  “The curtains of Westlewin now have fallen to dusk, on the dying of the evening light. The fires are stoked, the wine glasses stowed, as we happy revelers retire our souls to the comforts of bed and dream. This Presentation celebration witnessed not the fading to ember of hope. It is kindled and lit on the promise of a blazing future. In the ballroom, where Vannisarian twirled his chosen in triumph, all eyes gleamed at the illumination of a new reign dawning, never mind the clock's chiming of the eve. It was only a beginning they see. Our Affianced Princess Kiriana, once scorned and scarred as a scourge of nobility, shall contrary mark a rise. It is not in her newly crafted perfection that the kingdom shall stand. It is on the tempered rock of her banished scars. In the forging she was made strong. Her strength will be our foundation. Where Vannisarian is the embodiment, Kiriana is the backbone. Where Vannisarian crafts the vision, Kiriana sculpts it. It is just that she takes the Crown that was meant for her, on the arm of the proper brother of the two, and the one where she belongs. If my only gift be granted this world in what I leave behind, may these words live ever true: The kingdom shall be better for having birthed Kiriana, and Vannisarian shall be better for having loved her.”

  Kir swallowed a lump. “Toma wrote that?”

  Lili tilted the journal to full view so Kir could see for herself. There it was, in Scilio's elegant script. Kir hadn't realized he saw her in such glowing regards. They had not been on the best of terms before the moonless night, thanks to Quarinia's influence and Soventine's padding. Even when they had been quarreling, Scilio believed Kir to be much stronger than she believed herself.

  “That was so beautiful,” Melia breathed.

  “He may never had said it, but Toma has always admired you, Kir,” Lili provided. “He believed you would be the driving force behind the powers in Septauria. He was not wrong.”

  Kir inhaled deeply. She could not deny the renewal of confidence from Scilio's validation. Knowing now how much Scilio believed in her bolstered Kir's gumption and filled in the ridges between her insecurities. Kir had never really put much stock in what other people thought but Scilio's unbiased, honest opinion meant the world.

  “Ponytail's here, even when he's not,” Kir said, caressing the journal's page gently. “I just wish he could lend his back-slapping aid to Malacar. The big lummox needs it even more than me. ”

  “Malacar is bearing the strain. If only there were something that could ease his bur
den. I've tried, to no avail,” Lili commented as Melia placed the journal in a cushy place in the trunk. “I think maybe nothing, short of Vann, can do.”

  Melia closed the lid on the past, but not on the memories Scilio's journal had conjured up. Those were still as fresh in Kir's mind as the aftertaste of Corban's garlic-infused Aquilinian mountain hen was in her mouth. Dwelling on what they'd lost wouldn't do, so Kir determined to put her mind on problems worth dwelling on. Vann wasn't there, so it was up to her.

  “I know what can help,” Kir reported. “A good wallopin'.”

  “If you intend to brighten his spirits, I'm not sure beating it into him is the way to go about it,” Melia said wryly.

  “No, I mean a spar. Warriors live for it, and Malacar needs a good jolt of enthusiasm. Besides, I haven't taken him to task since I wore a vambrace. It's long overdue.”

  -17-

  Diversionary Tactics

  “On answering Soventine's summons, On Mark of Heroism and Courage,

  I pranced into his library lair, knowing full well I was entering into

  a battle of wits. I believed myself to be the master.

  And thus, I had lost before I had begun.”

  - Toma Scilio, Guardian Betrayer

  “Silver general forward one, captures pawn,” Vann said.

  “Clever boy,” Soventine remarked. “I see what you are about. Galvatine played this strategy once, several years ago. Of course, I still beat him in the end.”

  Vann knew his father was employing the standard taunt to rattle him. The strategy was sound. It had won Vann many shogi games in the past. He did not have his father's years of experience, however, and when the game ended with Soventine the victor, Vann understood where he had gone wrong.

  “You see, Vannisarian. You have to think more than four moves ahead.”

  “It's so difficult to think ahead, when I'm barely able to imagine the board as it stands. Playing shogi in your mind is not as easy as one might expect.”