‘Killed!’ Darcelle hissed, her voice breaking.
Burrage had obviously decided this was the moment for him to join in. ‘Your highness,’ he said, trying to exude calm, ‘the dowager was inadvertently caught up in an attempt on Queen Florentyna’s life. Assassins descended on Rittylworth Monastery and killed not only your stepmother, but Felyx, as well as the soldiers guarding her majesty. They almost achieved what they’d set out to do, which was to murder the queen,’ he said.
Darcelle looked between them and Cassien was struck by how suddenly composed she appeared. He frowned, staying in the shadows. The others seemed to be ready to ignore her behaviour and just hang on her words. No doubt the queen was simply relieved the truth was out. ‘Why were you at Rittylworth?’ Darcelle demanded.
‘I had gone to see our stepmother,’ Florentyna replied.
‘Why?’
‘About your wedding. I wanted her to be a part of it. I wanted to offer her a hand of peace.’
Darcelle gave a smirk. ‘You?’
Florentyna showed no offence. ‘Yes. I was offering her the opportunity to leave the monastery early, help you to prepare for your special day, witness your marriage and be able to share in your life beyond it. It is what she wanted. And I know it is what you wanted.’ She shook her head. ‘I wanted you to be happy and I knew that Saria and I finding some common ground would help you to start your life afresh, with no familial burdens.’
Darcelle seemed to ignore her sister’s gentle and generous offering of peace. ‘You tried to bribe her?’
Cassien was astonished but remained silent, stepping back deeper into the chamber’s shadows, well away from the glow of the flames.
‘What were you offering her?’ the princess demanded.
‘The chance to go to Cipres with —’
‘And get rid of the thorn in your side?’
Florentyna regarded her sister. She stood unnaturally still as she did so. In the space of her pause, Cassien felt the atmosphere in the queen’s solar turn frigid. ‘You forget I had already rid myself of that thorn.’
‘But she had nearly completed her mourning! She was on the brink of release from Rittylworth.’
‘What is your point?’ Florentyna asked, frowning.
‘You had her killed, didn’t you?’
‘What?’ the queen and Burrage said as one. Florentyna threw him a sharp look. ‘Darcelle, listen to me now, you silly child. I have been lenient with you because this is an emotional time and no bride-to-be should learn of the death of someone she loves on the brink of betrothal festivities. However, I will no longer tolerate your attitude. You risked my anger only a day or so ago and I forgave you. No longer! I’ll ask you to remember whom you address right now. Your queen, and she commands you to beware of that sharp tongue of yours. It may cut too deep and it might not be me who bleeds. I told you I would give you the facts. Here they are.
‘Saria died as I was trying to keep her safe from attackers. We had no idea what was underway other than a hail of arrows that felled Felyx and another soldier as our party arrived into Rittylworth. We couldn’t risk the dowager being kidnapped, or her life being put in danger if she was used as a bargaining tool, so in the little time we had we came up with a plan to get Saria and myself away from the monastery over the hills on foot. It nearly worked. Two other loyal men died trying to keep our stepmother and myself safe. I had to watch a brave guard die in front of me and Saria was cut down cruelly and unnecessarily. I held her as she died and her final words were ones of love … for you and for our father. It only took a few moments for me to understand just how much she loved you both. She died courageously, determined I should prevail. If not for Cassien, Hubbard would have defied her dying wish.’
Cassien saw it. Had the others? The flare of recognition. Darcelle had schooled her features within a blink, but he’d seen it: she knew the name Hubbard. He was sure. She was looking at him now and he pasted on a blank expression that revealed nothing of what he suspected.
‘You saved my sister?’
He nodded.
‘How did you know?’
He squinted slightly. ‘Know that she would be attacked?’
Darcelle nodded.
‘I didn’t, your highness. I happened along,’ he said carefully.
‘Blind luck. Not in time to save Saria, although every fibre of my being wishes it different,’ Florentyna impressed, searching Darcelle’s face as she reached for her hands and took them. ‘I don’t know why this happened but I will get to the bottom of it … if just for Saria’s sake. Someone knows something. This man was not sent by anyone with a shallow purse. He had been promised wealth for my head.’
Cassien could see Florentyna was having very little impact on her sister, whose expression had become unreadable.
‘What happened to him?’
‘Who?’
‘Hubbard.’
Cassien was impressed that she remembered the detail of his name amidst the emotional turmoil … it was all the more obvious that she already knew it.
‘Cassien killed him,’ the queen replied.
Darcelle flicked a gaze around the three of them. ‘So you didn’t learn who was behind this attack?’
Florentyna shook her head. ‘No. More’s the pity. He was never going to allow himself to be taken alive. He mocked us.’
Burrage moved to practicalities. ‘Your highness,’ he said, addressing Darcelle. ‘We must look out for your safety too. A special guard has been organised for yourself and King Tamas.’
‘Tamas,’ Darcelle whispered. ‘He was so looking forward to meeting Saria. I can’t believe this has happened.’ Cassien heard the false concern. Did the others hear it too?
‘We’re all trying to come to terms with it,’ Florentyna said gently. ‘I felt you needed to know this now, in spite of the upset it causes you. Now is exactly the time when you must show yourself to be strong in the fashion of our forebears.’
They were rallying words but to Cassien, Darcelle looked unimpressed. She licked her lips and looked far from crushed by grief.
‘I will be fine,’ Darcelle insisted, sounding to her sister as though she was already rallying. ‘We must cancel this evening.’
‘Surely not …’ Florentyna said, her voice trailing off with indecision. ‘Is that your wish … truly?’
Darcelle nodded. ‘It is. I wish to grieve. I need some time alone, maybe a quiet supper with Tamas. Will you forgive me?’
‘Oh, my darling,’ Florentyna said and swept her sibling into her long arms, wrapping them around her to protect and console. ‘Of course, whatever you want.’ She looked over Darcelle’s golden head to where Burrage stood by. She nodded at him. ‘Make our apologies. Everyone is to eat and enjoy the food and wine that the palace has prepared, but we should cancel the entertainment. Those coming will understand that our family is grieving.’
Burrage nodded and left the room, glancing at Cassien. Perhaps he expected him to leave as well, but Cassien was going nowhere.
Darcelle sniffed. He could see her cheeks were wet as she pulled away from the queen. ‘Is my mother here?’
‘She’s lying in the chapel, darling. She looks very peaceful.’
‘That is where I should be. I will mourn her this night and tomorrow I will be ready to face our guests.’
Florentyna shook her head and smiled. ‘Shar, but I’m so proud of you. I didn’t want to make any decision without you, but this is the right one. Tamas will understand too. Would you like to tell him or do you need me to do so?’
‘I can tell him. He can sit with me in the chapel for a while.’
‘Would you like any other company …’ Florentyna asked softly, tentatively.
Darcelle shook her head, weeping slightly harder. Cassien wasn’t feeling proud of himself for being so cynical, but he heard only empty tears. He had no doubt that Darcelle was sad at the loss of Saria. He was also certain this was a charade — an act for the sake of Florentyna.
; ‘I must change into mourning clothes,’ Darcelle whimpered.
Florentyna nodded. ‘Just for tonight, dear one. Then I would like to see you in your finery looking splendid for Tamas. Listen to me now,’ she said, putting an arm around her sister’s shoulder. ‘Saria wanted you to be joyful. You owe it to her to fulfil that wish. You must continue with your marriage arrangements and permit yourself to be happy.’
‘But what will everyone think of me?’
Florentyna gave a scoffing sound. ‘As far as the rest of the empire is concerned, the dowager willingly took herself off to Rittylworth to mourn the passing of her beloved king and husband. She has been out of sight for long enough that she has slipped from the tongues of the gossips and from the minds of most. I will make an announcement and I know everyone will understand why we do not have some days of mourning, given the distance that Tamas has travelled to present himself at our court.
‘There will be time for mourning when you’re married — it’s how she would want it. We must ensure Tamas has a special time here with you and that the people of Morgravia and those who have travelled from Briavel and from the mountain regions can also celebrate with you.’ She smiled. ‘You must not allow anything to dissuade you that you are not behaving entirely as I consider appropriate. If anyone wants to complain — they can come and present themselves to me. All right?’
Cassien watched Darcelle give a wan smile before nodding. ‘I’ll be ready for the picnic tomorrow.’
Florentyna kissed her head. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Darcelle made to leave and then turned back. ‘What are you going to do about the attack? I mean, do you think whoever is behind this will stop?’
The queen shrugged a shoulder. ‘I doubt it. But that’s why Burrage is having everything that passes my lips tasted first …’ Darcelle opened her mouth with astonishment ‘… and why Cassien will shadow my every move from now on.’ Darcelle flicked him a burning gaze. ‘I will just have to be very mindful until my enemy is discovered.’
Darcelle’s eyes fluttered for moment. ‘So you still plan to hunt him down.’
Cassien pushed off from the wall. ‘He or she,’ he said quietly.
He watched her swallow beneath his gaze. She turned back to her sister. ‘Where do you begin? Do you have any clues? We’re safe in Stoneheart, surely?’
‘That’s just it. I believe the danger comes from within.’
Cassien wished the queen had not played this card. Nevertheless, he was intrigued to see Darcelle visibly pale and raise a trembling hand to her forehead as though suddenly overcome.
‘I will be in the chapel if you need me,’ she said.
Cassien bowed as the princess lifted her silk gown a fraction and rustled out of the solar.
When she’d gone, he watched Florentyna take a deep breath, her hand placed against her belly as if to steady its churn.
‘Can I get you a water, majesty?’
She smiled bleakly. ‘No, I’ll be fine. I’m just sad it took death to remind me just how much I love Darcelle. She’s all I have left. We argued before I left for Rittylworth. It was the most unpleasant exchange I’ve ever experienced and it was over Saria, of course. I don’t want to ever see my sister look at me that way again and I don’t ever want to feel such loathing for her attitude either. Saria’s passing has forced me to forgive.’
Cassien nodded, kept his own counsel on his suspicions for now. ‘Majesty, I realise that this event has caused anxiety and upheaval for everyone, but may I urge you not to lose sight of the bigger threat. We need to be ever-watchful.’
‘Yes, I understand. I had better go and make personal apologies to Tamas.’
‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping my place, majesty, but how are you holding up?’
She gave him a smile and sighed. ‘I’ve read the history books that spoke of my great-grandmother’s heroics in her time. I’m keeping in mind that she must have been terribly frightened, but she never once compromised her position. I will take heart from that.’ Then she added quietly. ‘Besides, I have you now.’
TWENTY-THREE
Cassien was supposed to spend the night with Ham in a small chamber, normally used for storage, adjacent to the queen’s suite. Servants had cleared it, made up two cots; despite Burrage’s protestations and Florentyna’s embarrassment, he had assured them both he would be fine.
While Ham had slept the sleep of babes with his belly full, Cassien had sat staring at a rendition of the dragon carved over the queen’s bedchamber door. The floor was cold, the moonlight was fiercely bright and the regular changes of the guards that he personally had posted also kept him alert. At each change he would straighten, stretch and take a walk around the corridors flanking the queen’s chamber. Twice he’d made the journey down the great staircase and gone out into the frosty night to check on the guards watching her various windows. They were a long way down from where Florentyna slept, but Cassien was taking no chances. Men encircled the wing from below, and above on the battlements, and again he was changing them each bell. The rotation would continue day and night. He’d gladly lie on the floor by her bed if he didn’t think Chancellor Burrage would have an apoplectic fit.
He didn’t need to look at the gently burning candle in the small alcove in the wall to know it was aevum. The middle of the night was sensed through his body, finely honed to know instinctively. It was the period trey from dawn, as the Brotherhood called it, the three hours when men were mostly still and the Brothers went about their killing, if need be. If the Brothers used trey to steal up on victims, so might a demon, he reasoned. He thought about the men on the palace’s uppermost reaches. Some, he suspected, would already be leaning against the merlons and dozing, hoping not to be caught. Yes, this was the time for any enemy to strike.
There had only recently been a guard change. A whole bell before they’d rotate again. He stared at the door; the dragon stared back … and dared him.
Cassien chose.
He shifted to lean against the balustrade and used the skill he’d possessed since his earliest memories of life, and withdrew into himself. It happened fluidly. One moment he was entirely in control of his physical self, the next he was a guest of his body. He would give himself the briefest possible time; he just had to be sure nothing was approaching in a spiritual form.
Perhaps he should have woken Ham, asked him to sit next to him. Too late. Even withdrawn into the tiny kernel that was his spirit, his gaze was still fixed on the dragon. He drew some comfort from it.
Watch over me, Fynch, he cast out. And then Cassien lifted fully away from his body and he roamed.
In the Great Forest, a she-wolf looked up from her nuzzling brood. They were too sleepy to fully suckle, but were safe in the comfort of their mother’s warmth, her smell, her rhythmic, reassuring breathing. She wondered what had disturbed her and eased herself away from her cubs, which moaned at the loss and tucked themselves in around each other. She nuzzled them closer, paused until they were quiet again before moving soundlessly out of the cave-like overhang of rock and trees where the pups had been born. In the clearing she could see the other wolves from the pack — some with their head resting on their paws, others lying on their sides. Her mate looked up as she emerged, but satisfied himself that she was simply stretching and settled his large dark head back onto his huge paws and closed his eyes. She knew he wouldn’t sleep. He was as alert as she, determined they raise their young safely to maturity.
Romaine stretched her large, lean frame while she listened. There was nothing to hear other than the comforting, muffled sounds of the forest at night, where it was so quiet even an insect could make itself heard scrambling over leaf fall. Clearly nothing unusual had made a noise to disturb her or the other wolves would also be startled. She straightened, lowered her ears. Cassien. Romaine closed her eyes and listened inwardly while she cast out her senses and waited.
She heard the echo. Watch over me, Fynch.
Cassien was roaming. She hat
ed him roaming at any time, because of its inherent dangers, but especially now when she was nowhere near to look after his cooling body. Romaine tipped back her head and howled.
In the Wild, many leagues into the far northeast, Fynch stirred fitfully and woke suddenly. He thought he’d heard a call. He swung his legs down from the modest pallet he slept on, padding across the stone floor warmed by a hot spring that ran deep below the hut in which he lived. His predecessor, Elysius, had chosen his position well, he thought absently, sighing at the small comfort on this cool night.
He stared out the window to the moon and a clear spring night sky. It would be sunny tomorrow. His gaze searched the near and far distance. Nothing stirred.
Fynch listened. All was quiet. He blinked, turned inward and heard the whisper reach him.
Watch over me, Fynch.
And then he heard in his mind the anguished howl of a wolf.
Cassien was roaming.
Trust him, Romaine, he soothed, casting the thought back to the she-wolf in the forest. The sacrifice is his to make, his burden to bear.
Moving as swiftly as he could he roamed Stoneheart. Seeing it from many different angles in this guise, Cassien began to appreciate its sombre, clean-lined beauty. Whimsy was permitted in its courtyards and groves, some beautiful connecting passages; they were perfectly structured to suit the inherent ‘order’ that was Stoneheart and yet each so creative within itself. These particular spaces ensured airflow would help the palace breathe and allow the perfume of blossom and flowers to scent its halls and occasionally catch drifts of conversation or birdsong … harmony was one way of thinking about it. He admired it; even in the darkness, it stood proud.
Cassien was aware of the cathedral soaring up to the gods nearby. He desperately wanted to visit it, especially in this form, but he was mindful that every moment might cost an animal its life as much as threaten his own. He focused on the palace, searching for magic or anything of an ethereal power, and satisfied himself that no demon was within its walls … not tonight anyway.
The Scrivener's Tale Page 35
