The words he’d spoken to his spymaster danced in her mind, but she shut the door and took a tentative step in his direction. He despised her; he’d said so. Her earlier doubts returned. This had to be a move in his game, but to what end? “What’s all this?”
“I told you in the invitation. We’re having dinner.” He beckoned with a curled finger. “Come. Sit.”
She stopped and planted her fists on her hips. “Would master like me to fetch a bone?”
He laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
What in Ninmah’s name was going on? Varda sat and let him push in her chair. “So we’re having dinner. Where’s your special lady friend?”
His eyebrows twitched and his tongue pushed out his cheek. “She has her own suite, and has been using it for a change.”
Oh? That was news. “Did you have a lovers’ quarrel?”
“No, we’re fine. I just thought it was time for her to have her own suite.”
Interesting.
He passed her a napkin, then removed the silver lid from her food. Pie and vegetables. “I think we should eat together every night. So we can get to know each other. You remember when you arrived here? You said we could be allies. I want that. I’ll admit we got derailed a time or two, and some of it was my fault.”
She nodded.
He poured them each a glass of wine. “But we should try to fix it before it’s too late. We should be a team.”
Wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted? For them to direct this alliance as a unit? Yet his offer left a sour taste. Why now? What was the reason for this sudden change?
But did it matter what his motives were? Her goal was to get Malak away from Cara, get rid of Clarity, and save the resistance from falling apart. Wouldn’t that be easier if they actually saw one another again? Since her move from the castle, they hadn’t spent any time together. There hadn’t been council meetings, no plans for war, nothing. Even the deployment of those soldiers to the trenches had been made between only Frank, Nic and Ghedi.
This was her way in.
She still owed him an apology for the way she’d treated Cara at the outpost. Maybe that was the place to start.
Varda smiled. “All right.”
“Good. Let’s eat, or is there some sort of Dvaran custom before a meal?”
“No.” She picked up her cutlery and cut into the pie. The scent of gravy caused her stomach to grumble, but that would have to wait. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ve wanted to apologise since we arrived back after the fight with Cara, but something stopped me each time I tried.
“The truth is, I wasn’t angry at Cara at all. She just resembles my late sister Ylva to the extent that it took my breath away. Not her features, though Ylva also had those enormous eyes. Hers were grey. Almost silver.” Varda lowered the cutlery and ran both hands over her face. “And Ylva was small like that, too. Slight. Shy around people she didn’t know. She’d have been twenty-five now, not much older than Cara.”
“How did she die?”
The words expanded in Varda’s throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Seven years, and the grief still smashed through her defences. “She was raped to death by the Salamander’s men. I could do nothing. We couldn’t even retrieve her body—they were still busy with her as we escaped. Somehow, I survived, and she died, and I’ve hated myself for that for all these years. And when I ran down that hill, and they were on top of Cara—”
Frank’s eyes filled with tears. “It opened old wounds.” He reached for her hand. “I wish you’d told me sooner. What happened to Cara has also been in my nightmares almost every time I try to rest. My baby sister, flat on her back, while they… It’s been difficult to accept.”
Was this why he had gone through with drugging her? Had he wanted to dull the emotions he’d thought would plague her? Not a good reason, to be sure, but still a better reason than Clarity made him do it.
“But.” He cleared his throat. “If you never retrieved her body, how can you be sure?”
How she loathed this question. “Look. We’d seen it before. Daiki’s soldiers went at it until they were spent, then lined up and shot all the victims for good measure. Sometimes they threw them all on a heap, alive or not, and set them on fire. Or they—”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand.
“I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t,” Varda said. “I was ashamed of my actions. I hope you understand now, and I hope you’ll let me see Cara to apologise to her, too.”
Frank nodded and flicked away the wetness in his eyes. “I’ll set something up.”
“Thank you.” She took a bite of the pie and struggled not to cringe. What was it with these Mordians and over-salting their food? Just like the plate of pastries delivered to Varda’s tent every other day. The cooks could preserve their dishes for years to come with the amount of salt they used.
Still, just like the blasted pastries, she ate every bite. She couldn’t risk insulting Frank yet again, and so soon after they’d made peace.
“So, do you know why Sauvageon and your man, I forget his name, have been arguing?” Frank took a sip of his wine. “I hear they fight almost daily.”
“Not almost.” Varda sniffed. “They were at it again on my way here. As for what it’s about—it got lost in translation. Sven doesn’t understand a word that Sauvageon shouts. Sometimes I get the idea she understands him, at least a bit. I’m not sure though. Most of what I’ve heard has been along the lines of ‘you drive me insane, woman’.”
Frank grinned. “Have you bet on them yet?”
“Psh. I have better things to do with my time, thank you.”
“Maybe you’d like to make a bet with me?” He ran a finger along the edge of his wine glass.
Betting was childish. Shouldn’t the king have more important things to deal with? Especially while his people dissected everything he did and spoke of him behind their hands. Friendship, Varda. “What would the terms of this bet be?”
“Well.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll bet that Sauvageon wins this little argument within the week. If I’m right, you’ll move back into the castle.”
Ha. “And if you’re wrong?”
“You get to name the terms.”
Varda washed down the taste of pie with wine. “If Sven wins, or the argument doesn’t conclude within the week, you’ll eat with me and my people next week. All week. They don’t see enough of you out there, among the tents.”
He tipped his head. “You have a deal. Now, dessert?”
How much salt would that contain? “Sure.”
He stood and offered her a hand.
Varda took it with a frown but let him pull her to her feet. “Are we going somewhere?”
Frank flashed a lopsided smile, then guided her close to him. One of his hands snaked around her waist, and the other under her braid, around her nape.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m about to kiss you, betrothed. You have done this before, haven’t you?” His eyes glittered. “I’ve heard you have a reputation as a fierce lover.”
Where had he heard that? Who’d— His lips were on hers, and all her thoughts fled.
His moustache tickled her nose. Still, he was warm, his lips firm.
Varda didn’t think as she slid her tongue into his mouth, shuddered at the wine-sweet taste of him. Good, this was good.
But it wasn’t. Why would he kiss her? He hated her.
Varda leaned back and studied him with a frown. “What game is this?”
“No game. We’re to be married. I just thought that it would be easier if we’d had some sense of togetherness. I don’t want to go to our wedding night without having even kissed you.”
Her face heated, and her vision pulsed in crimson. “So this dinner, the talk—it was just because your mistress isn’t available tonight and you need someone to warm your bed?”
Frank sighed. “No. I’ve been nothing but sincere tonight. I just want to know you, Varda,
and I want you to trust me. You don’t, I can see that.”
“Honestly, would you trust yourself, if you heard all the rumours and saw—” She couldn’t tell him that she knew about Cara, not yet.
He reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “You are beautiful, you know. I’ve always thought so.”
Varda shifted out of his embrace and retreated a step. He hadn’t answered her question, but he never did. Not truly. He could claim he was sincere all he wanted, but he never was. Frank had gained something from eating with her, and Varda would find out what it was.
“Good night,” she said. “Thank you for the food.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then said, “Yes.”
“Sleep tight, maiden-heir.”
Varda inclined her head and left, frowning all the way back to the Dvaran encampment, where Sven and Sauvageon were still shouting.
Ghost touches of Frank’s lips to hers lingered well into the night.
Chapter 33
The scope dented a cold ring into Nathan’s eye socket. He aimed and pulled the trigger, and a bolt flew just south of the bullseye.
Nic studied him from the other side of the training grounds, his face without expression.
“Try again but adjust your aim a bit up and to the right,” Ghedi said.
Nathan adjusted his aim and fired again. The bolt flew straight into the bullseye.
Ghedi clapped his hands. “Good. Now, I want you to put three rapid shots into the bullseye.”
Nathan refocused on the red dot and held down the trigger for rapid release. Three bolts popped into the red.
Ghedi offered him a hand and pulled him up. “Good. Next, we’ll practise on moving targets, or have you fire when moving. Up for that?”
“Of course,” Nathan said. He didn’t think about narcotics, Cara or his missing best friend while training, and that had been reason enough to train without end for the past two days.
“Go get your bolts.”
Nathan made his way to the target and returned his bolts to the quiver, just as Sauvageon and Sven stomped by the training grounds, each shouting in their own language. A stream of people followed. Some placed bets, some translated, but most gossiped.
A dark-skinned man with wide, brown eyes stood at the head of a small group. He spoke in clipped Mordian whispers, expression intent. “—can’t ignore this. The king’s made a prisoner of the princess. I reckon it’s because she openly opposes the Aellish invasion.
“There was nothing wrong with her when she arrived, but now she’s all drooling and vacant? This is a power play, friends. This is the deed of a king afraid to lose his throne. No princess of the blood should be treated this way, sure, but what kind of man treats his sister this way?
“And what about all the nobles who died random deaths in the last few years? How many estates burned down—whole villages—blamed on the emperor, when we all know he was nowhere near that area? If the king’s willing to harm his allies, the nobles who fund him, and the princess, what won’t he be willing to do to us? The unimportant people. Maybe, if the king’s so afraid of her, she’s the one we should be following.”
One or two agreed, then another piped up.
A woman with a thick blond braid said, “And where the hell is Du Pont? The king tried to blame him for crimes he didn’t commit, and now he’s missing? That’s no coincidence. We have to find Du Pont—only he can get the princess to safety. Then we rally behind them. Take Mordoux back for us, for our offspring.”
The people murmured among themselves, then moved on.
Varda approached in their wake, a quiver strapped to her thigh and a crossbow in her hand.
“Look who it is!” Nic laughed as he jogged closer. “Need a few pointers?”
Varda arched an eyebrow and turned on him. “Do you want me to put a few pointers in your lungs? Heart?” Her smile didn’t render her less menacing.
“Not necessary.” Nic glanced in Nathan’s direction. “Just wanted to say hello. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a princess to court.”
Son of a whore. The itch started behind Nathan’s eyes, the ghost of a tickle that demanded a shot of something, but he squashed it. Later.
“Don’t pay him any mind.” Ghedi patted Nathan on the back. “Now, if Sauvageon and her friend are planning to have their argument here today, you and I will take this outside the keep grounds. I don’t need their shouting in my ears. Good?”
“Yes,” Nathan said.
Ghedi beckoned with curled fingers. “Let’s go.”
The guards waved at them as they left through a small gate at the back of the keep. Here, the grass was so saturated with water, every step sloshed about their boots. Mud splattered against his trousers and water seeped into Nathan’s soles. Images of trench foot assaulted him, but he squashed that, too. Later, damn you.
At least the rain had let up. The washed-out blue sky housed yellowish clouds of mist, lacking the mass to cause even drizzle.
Nathan eyed the heavens with a frown. “When did you say we’d have summer, Ghedi?”
He wobbled his hand. “It’ll be like today for a week, maybe two, then we’ll have a final snowstorm. After that, it’ll get hotter and hotter until you beg for the snow to come back. When the summer comes, the mosquitoes will feast, and the nights will echo with both thunder and cannon fire. Not a good time of year.”
“Great.”
Ghedi laughed. “I hear you.”
Nathan considered the old man. Did he dare ask about his history with the emperor? Was this his chance?
“The cogs in your head are turning so hard, I can hear them whir,” Ghedi said.
Might as well ask. “Just wondering how you knew the emperor.”
Ghedi glanced at Nathan over his shoulder. “Hisao and I grew up together. We were like brothers. Like you and Du Pont.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted to come north, and I followed.” He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
Nathan frowned. He couldn’t let it go. If the only fix he could have was information, he needed more. “The short version then?”
Ghedi barked a laugh. “This is not a story easily condensed, but I’ll try. We came to the Confederate, they attacked us, and—”
“They attacked you?” That was not how the tale was told in Aelland.
Ghedi nodded. “Hisao didn’t want to take over the north—he came bearing gifts. He wanted to ally, to set up trade and relationships with fellow rulers. But the Confederate didn’t see it that way. We sent peace convoys, but each convoy returned to us without their heads. Three times, this happened. Then Hisao’s patience was spent.
“Same thing happened in Mordoux, hence the war, but the Sudriahns were receptive. The Elions, too, to a lesser extent. They have peace. What happened in Dvara was an atrocity. Hisao had trusted the wrong man with his soldiers, and Daiki…well. No time for that in the condensed version. I was there when Hisao became the great emperor. But in this war— Simply? I couldn’t stay with him. Come on, the course is just up ahead.” He picked up the pace.
Nathan dragged his feet, mesmerised by the way droplets of water flicked up when he moved. Frank had to know the truth of what Ghedi had just said, but he’d obviously allow the people to believe the false history. While the emperor was a monster, he was an enemy, and the people followed Frank and his resistance readily. And the Dvarans were motivated by what Ghedi had called an atrocity.
Interesting, but Nathan would have to continue digging later.
They halted at a level area, about a third to the top of the hill. Square, metal tubes lay on the grass, and a pair of targets sat atop wheels that clipped into openings on either side of the tubes. A lever was attached to a mechanism on the far side of the course, and a massive container with clear walls caught rainwater next to the lever.
One of the targets had been painted in blue, the other in red.
Ghedi pres
sed a button on the mechanism, and a spark flared at the bottom of the water tank. As the water boiled and steam rose to the top of the container, the targets crept on their tracks.
“Right,” Ghedi said. “The longer it boils, the faster the targets will go, so I suggest we get to work. For accuracy’s sake, I want you to shoot at the red target. Every bolt landed in the blue means an additional ten minutes of training, no matter how tired you are by the end of it.”
“All right.” Nathan moved to flatten himself on the ground, but Ghedi halted him with an outstretched hand.
“None of that for this. I want you to be able to shoot in any position. So, you’ll remain standing for now. When you’ve mastered that, you’ll shoot while in motion. Ready?”
“Yes,” Nathan said.
“Good. Show me what you’ve got.”
Nathan failed to hit the target on the first few tries. Once he hit one, though, he could consistently land a bolt.
Ghedi had him run a few steps, fire, run again, which proved to be far more complicated. Especially as the targets sped up.
Ghedi laughed and pulled the lever on the control mechanism. A latch opened at the top of the water tank, and steam drifted into the air. The targets slowed, and they continued to train.
They must have been at it for over two hours when Frank, Nic, and Cara joined them.
Nathan’s innards knotted. Finally, she was within reach. Right there. But he dare not react—that was what Frank wanted.
Frank smiled in greeting. “You’re making progress. Excellent.”
Ghedi clasped both hands around the staff and leaned forward. “He’s a good student.”
“And you’re a good teacher.” Frank tapped Cara’s shoulder. “Remember your old friend, Mouse?”
Not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. She didn’t discolour, didn’t even blink, but the hand on the other side of Nic’s waist fisted. “Friend,” she said in a voice that didn’t belong to her.
Nic held her closer. “Of course she remembers him, don’t you sweetheart? She used to love him. One doesn’t forget that.”
A Trial of Sparks & Kindling (Fall of the Mantle Book 2) Page 26
