by M. J. Scott
"Is she going to try to use this to make trouble? Honestly, we needed to stay warm. We would have frozen to death."
Irina shrugged. "I don't know. Hopefully Misha can talk her round." She grimaced slightly. "You're lucky, being a foreigner. If it were me they'd found in a cave with a man who was not my husband, then he would become my husband in short order if he wanted to live."
Well, that was plainly ridiculous. But she wasn't going to argue the point out here in the wilderness with her arm smarting and the seer glaring at her. So she just thanked Irina and turned her attention to staying on the bay mare Roland had brought for her. Lucien looked rather like he wanted to grab her off the saddle and put her up in front of him. But she shook her head at him when he approached. Better they keep their distance.
The ride back was long and uncomfortable despite Irina's work on her arm. It didn't hurt much, but the rest of her felt like she'd, well, stampeded through a storm, fallen off a horse, and then spent the night sleeping on rocks. It took all her attention to stay awake and in the saddle, and she would have killed for some kafiet to numb the pain by the time they rode into the stable yard at the palace and Captain Theisse helped her down from the horse. She swayed slightly, and he grabbed her before Lucien could.
She kept hold of the captain's arm as they walked slowly back inside. There were far too many curious looks on the faces of the courtiers they passed, even though they were hastily swept away and turned into bows or curtsies as the king and the seer walked by. When they reached one of the intersections in the corridors that would lead back to the Illvyans’ quarters, Mikvel said, "I suggest we meet again this afternoon. The two of you need to bathe and rest and let the healers—"
"Balance must be attended," Silya said, cutting him off. "Coddle them later. We need to address this. Now."
Chapter 24
The king pressed a finger to his forehead, sighing as though it pained him. Lucien sympathized. Sejerin Silya was enough to give anyone a headache.
"Very well. We will go to the Copper Chamber and discuss this further. Irina, go and fetch Royve Ava, please. There's no reason Lady de Montesse should remain in pain while we talk. Colonel Brodier, if you want someone from your own party to attend to her as well, feel free to send for them."
He turned on his heel and started walking.
"Good luck," Irina mouthed at Chloe before she headed back the way they'd come.
Lucien moved up to stand next to Captain Theisse as they followed the king. Chloe stuck close to Honore, avoiding him.
The Copper Chamber was aptly named, the metal gleaming from candlesticks and lanterns and copper gilt—if that was the right word—on the flowers embroidered on the autumn-shaded tapestries on the walls. An oval table in a burnished red-brown wood was surrounded by eight chairs finished in coppery silks. Mikvel sat at one end, and Silya took the chair next to him.
Chloe sank into one of the chairs farthest from the seer with a grateful sigh. She was too pale, and he bit down the immediate instinct to request that she be allowed to rest before this nonsense continued.
Best to get it over with. Still, sensible or not, he sat beside her, leaving Honore and Captain Theisse to bridge the gap in the center.
No one spoke immediately. It was protocol to let Mikvel go first, but Lucien was ready to ignore protocol if it would speed up proceedings.
"They should marry," Sejerin Silya said abruptly.
Apparently she wasn’t going to worry about protocol either. Lucien clenched his jaw against the desire to ask her if she had lost her mind. "I beg your pardon?"
"Marriage would restore the balance," she said as though she was saying something perfectly sensible.
Maybe he had hit his head after all. Maybe he was back in the cave, still dreaming.
"You can't be serious," Chloe said, outrage clear in her tone. "We were merely trying to survive the night.”
Mikvel laid one of his hands flat on the table, nodding. "Silya, these are not Andalyssians. They are not bound by our customs."
Relief swept through Lucien's gut. Good, someone was going to be sensible.
"But you are, Your Majesty," Silya said. "You took an oath to maintain the balance. We already have the difficulty from the council being incomplete for so long. Now you have another transgression. One which took place during your wedding hunt. Perhaps the goddess sent the storm to show her displeasure."
If she had, wouldn't that mean she had no issue with Chloe and him spending the night in a cave? Lucien's fingers flexed and he gripped his hands under the table, fighting to stay calm. His gut told him the sejerin was lying. But to try to use his power on her would be a flagrant breach of protocol. It would only make things worse.
“That’s superstition and foolishness,” Mikvel said, squaring his shoulders. “Seers don’t always get the forecasts right. This is merely one of those times.”
“Perhaps. But if the balance is skewed, the land is cursed.”
“That is also superstition and nonsense,” Mikvel said, his voice firm. “Curses don’t exist.”
Silya scowled. “You know nothing of the old times. Of what can be done when power is used wildly and with no regard for the balance.”
Like Illvyans did?
“This is not the old times, Sejerin.”
“You do not hear the land protest the balance broken as I do,” she retorted. “Do not be so sure.”
Mikvel looked pained all over again. “Nevertheless, we are discussing what has happened today. Not old magic and mysteries.”
“Mysteries that keep your land safe, Your Majesty. You would be wise to remember it.”
“Sejerin, do not forget yourself,” Roland said.
Silya shot him a look.
"You both know the queen cannot be crowned if the sejerin and the priests do not confirm the balance," Silya continued, sounding slyly triumphant.
"Are you saying you won't?" Mikvel said flatly. "We are working to rectify the issue with House Elannon. This seems minor compared to that."
"I'm not saying we won’t. I'm saying we could not." Silya looked too smug at the thought.
Lucien's heart sank. She clearly thought she had something over Mikvel here. Something the king might bow to rather than risk a scandal. But why was she forcing his hand? What was she gaining? Or, if not her, whoever it was whose interests she had in mind. "The balance is broken when propriety is so clearly ignored. Not to mention that...wrongdoing between them." She gestured at the space between them.
"Wrongdoing?" Chloe said indignantly. "Do you mean the bond? We needed that to stay alive.”
Mikvel winced. "Lady de Montesse. In Andalyssia, bonds are uncommon magic. And they are never shared between unmarried members of the opposite sex. They are rarely used outside the priesthood or the seers, in fact. I understand that you were in need, but—"
"Forbidden," Silya finished. "Balance broken must be restored. It is the king's to uphold, and he cannot hold his oath and let this pass. It would leave him unworthy in the eyes of many."
Fuck. Lucien resisted the urge to rub his suddenly throbbing head.
Honore cleared her throat. "Your Majesty, may I be granted a few minutes with my officers?" She managed a smile. "This is...a complicated situation, but I'm sure we can come to a resolution."
"What if we just leave?" Chloe said. "You could say I needed medical attention. Send us back down to Elenia. No one needs to know what happened."
"The balance knows," the seer said.
Mikvel looked pained again. "That is true. But it's also true that we have need of the Lord Truth Seeker's services to finish this business with House Elannon. There can be no treaties or otherwise until we have determined the truth at the heart of them."
In other words, no slinking away and pretending none of this ever happened.
"We understand, Your Majesty," Honore said. "But again, I think it would be best if the four of us spoke alone."
Mikvel nodded. "Of course, Colonel. Come, Sejer
in, we will find tea elsewhere. You must be tired after all that riding. I certainly am."
For a moment, Lucien though Silya was going to refuse, but she seemed to remember that she was talking with the king and rose from her chair to accompany him.
"Would you ward the room please, Gilles?" Honore said to Captain Theisse. "We need privacy for this discussion."
Gilles pushed his chair back and crossed to the door. He turned the key and then pressed his hands to the wood. Light shimmered over all the copper as he placed a ward.
"We don't need privacy," Lucien said, "We need everyone to take a breath and regain the sanity that seems to have been lost."
"We need this mission to succeed and not end in flames and another diplomatic disaster. That would not please His Imperial Majesty,” Honore said sharply.
"You think we should just play along?" Lucien asked. Honore was the last person he expected to lose her head.
"Yes," Honore said.
Beside him, Chloe choked.
"Get married," Honore said. "What does it matter? You can get a divorce when we return to Lumia. Aristides will grant it. Get married, behave yourselves, and we'll finish the mission and all go home. Consider it an order."
His temper snapped. "I think, Colonel,” he growled, "that you have forgotten something here. I am the Marq of Castaigne. And I'm not under your command in that capacity. Nor in my role as Truth Seeker. You can't order me to do anything. We didn't do anything wrong. We were trying to stay alive. We can dissolve the bond, and they have no real cause to make a fuss. They're trying to embarrass us."
"And they're succeeding. I know it's not your fault, Lucien, but you've broken the rules. You knew what this place is like." She cast a glance at Chloe. "And you should know better, too, Chloe, after spending so much time in Anglion. Andalyssia may seem backward to us, but their customs are theirs. They honor them. It's our job to honor them, too, while we're here."
"But we didn't do anything," Chloe protested.
"Really?" Honore arched an eyebrow. "I have it on good authority that there was a ward around your room for half the night after the wedding, Lieutenant. Were you worried about snoring too loudly and waking Giane?"
Chloe flushed.
Lucien lifted his chin. "They don't know about that."
"It was, in fact, an Andalyssian who asked me about the noisy ward, Lucien." Her tone was nearly colder than the air in the cave had been. He'd never seen Honore furious before. "So, you're mistaken. They had no proof, perhaps, that anything they consider untoward happened, but now they do.”
"Goddess bite me,” he snarled. "Hypocritical idiots. Are you telling me you think none of the court ever break their marriage vows? Chloe is a widow, not some blushing eighteen-year-old virgin. This is—"
"We should do it," Chloe said.
Did she really just say that? Chloe stared at Lucien, not quite believing the words that had just escaped her lips. Lucien stared back, his expression indicating he thought she'd lost her senses.
"Did you hit your head after all?" he said in a strangled tone.
Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Did you hit yours?" She turned to Honore. "Lucien and I need to talk. Alone."
Captain Theisse grimaced. "If everybody keeps leaving, we're all going to end up standing outside in the hallway. I can't imagine that will improve the sejerin's mood any."
"It won't take long," Chloe said. At least, she hoped not. Lucien was angry, and it might take longer than she thought to make him see sense. She wasn't sure she was seeing sense herself. Her stomach churned.
"See that it doesn't," Honore said. "Gilles, let's wait outside."
Chloe had to fight the urge to follow them out the door and then just keep running until she was safely off the damned mountain. "You should redo the wards," she said, trying to sound calm.
Lucien rose, stalked to the nearest bare patch of wall, and slapped his hand against it. The echo of the ward rang though her like a bell.
"That's hardly disproving their theory about who put the ward around my room the other night."
He swore under his breath, striding back to the table.
Her pulse was racing in her ears, her stomach rolling with the panicked sense that she had landed in a mess there was no good way out of. If there was no resolution, if she was disgraced on this mission, that would be the end of her chance at a career.
She made herself breathe more slowly. One of them had to be sensible. Apparently it was her. After all, she had the most to lose here. "Honore is right," she said. "Aristides would grant you a divorce. Or us, I suppose. I'm hardly the right wife for the Marq of Castaigne, and he'll see your hand was forced. We can return home, tell nobody, get divorced, and go our separate ways again."
His eyes blazed. "It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
"For a start, what if the emperor doesn't grant me a divorce?”
"That's hardly likely. Not if you explain things to him. Presumably the two of you are on good terms. You are the Marq of Castaigne. You were raised to deal with politics. This is politics. Play the game, my lord." True, it was somewhat unusual for nobles to get divorced, but that was because their marriages were carefully considered in the first place and made for reasons often more practical than passionate, both parties clear-eyed about what they were doing. But it happened from time to time. And when it did, everyone moved on eventually.
"Marriage isn't a game." His voice rumbled, and she didn’t need the bond to know he was deadly serious. "It's a vow. I do not take any vow I make lightly, Chloe."
Was that what was making him stubborn about this? His bone-deep desire to keep his word? To stay true to the promises he made to his wife?
A shiver ran down her spine. What would it be like to have those promises honored? She hadn't planned on marrying again. Her aversion to making those vows was different to his. He believed in them. Wanted to honor them. She wasn't sure she could believe again. "In this case, it's politics. And I won't hold it against you."
"I'd bloody well hold it against me." His fingers drummed the table, restless, sunlight glinting off his signet rings.
She had to make him understand. "That's easy for you to say."
He stilled. "What does that mean?"
"It means that you are not the one who will come off worse out of this. You are, as mentioned, the Marq of Castaigne. A Truth Seeker. If you cause a scandal on a diplomatic mission, it will be a minor drama in your life. Gossip for a few weeks at best. But it won’t be minor for me, Lucien. If they send me home from this mission, I won't get another chance. I’ll be discharged. I don't want to be a scandal again. Or lose everything again. I can’t. I won’t."
He winced. "Chloe—"
"No. I lost Charl. Had my life upended. I paid a price for what he did. I'm not losing everything again for something that's not my fault. Can't you do this for me? We were friends once. You care about me. Or so you say. If you do, then do this. You can make this right. Make sure I don’t lose my chance. And when we get home, it will be undone, and we will both be happy."
He was silent, eyes searching hers, every line of his body tense. Then he sighed. "All right. You’re right. For you, I will do this."
Something in those words tolled in her chest. He was telling the truth. That it was for her. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."
She pulled back. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again.
"Lucien?" she said. "Was there something you wanted to say?"
"No," he said. "It's fine. Things are settled."
This time the bell in her chest gave more of a dull thud. Like a cracked note. "That's a lie. What's wrong?"
His head snapped up. "What do you mean, that's a lie?"
"I mean you're not telling me the truth. I can—" She stopped, startled. "I can feel it."
Shock flared his own eyes wide. "You can access my power through the bond. Goddess. That's...strange."
Strange was one word for it.
Fascinating might be a better one. "It's not all the time. That’s the first time I felt it. Maybe it's just with you. We should test it. Tell me something. Something from when I was away. A truth and a lie. Let's see if I can tell."
He shook his power. "This power isn’t a toy."
"I know that. I've known you for a long time, Lucien. Do you think I don't know the rules you live by? But we might as well find out how this works."
"I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea."
That was true. "Why?"
"Because my power is rare. If people find out you can...co-opt a Truth Seeker's power with a bond, then I can see several ways that might go badly for Truth Seekers."
She hadn't thought of that. He had a point. "True. But we don't need to tell anyone. In fact, maybe it might come in useful. We still have my mysterious traitor to deal with."
"If you use this power to catch him out, you'd need to explain how in court," Lucien said. "Please don't. Besides, it's not so simple as you think. The truth...can be dangerous. Painful. Trust me on this. It's tempting, I know. But using that power carelessly never ends well. Besides, if our bond is part of what is breaking Sejerin Silya's precious balance, I expect her next demand will be that we dissolve it."
"The king said married people share them." The denial was instinctive.
"He said it was unusual. And this bond has served its purpose. We survived. If you want me to marry you to make sure this situation is dealt with, then you have to be prepared to do the rest. Deal with the bond as well."
She hadn't thought of that. But he was right. Even though a part of her flinched away from the thought. It seemed it hadn't taken very long for her to get used to the feel of Lucien beside her. Or his power, at least. That song of him in her head was...comforting. Like the presence of an old friend.
Goddess, what did that mean? Maybe he was right. They should dissolve the bond as they would dissolve the marriage when they got home. Make the cut clean and keep emotions out of it before anyone got hurt.
"Whatever it takes," Chloe said. "I want my second chance, Lucien. I want my life. I earned it. I don't want to let an accident ruin me again. So. We should let them back in and tell them that we will marry."
