Zachary and his men met her on the road there, two miles from Anaes’s Fort, and Zachary had taken guard at her right side as they travelled the last leg of the journey to the capital.
“You’re very quiet,” Aurora noted, and Zachary looked up again. She was a pretty woman, certainly, with burning red hair and freckles across her pale face, likes dapples of sunshine. Her eyes, however, reminded Zachary of Rufus somehow, and he found it difficult to look at her. “I had heard that Lord Odin’s apprentice liked to chatter and joke.”
“Apologies, Your Highness, but I fear my flavour of humour wouldn’t suit you.”
“Why, is it all cocks and blood?” She giggled at his stunned expression. “Two of my father’s guards are from Lemra—I assure you, after them, nothing you can say will shock me.” She pulled her feet from her stirrups, stretching her legs in the saddle. Not only had she forfeited a carriage for the journey, but she rode like a man, straddled, not perched demurely in a side-saddle. “Tell me truthfully—are you surprised that I came?”
Zachary looked both ways. The knights had created a perimeter around them, but no one was near enough to eavesdrop. “Yes.”
“I am surprised the invitation kept, even after the dragon was defeated in Sigel’eg. I was certain it would be withdrawn the moment the news came out. King Bozidar is King Sverrin’s grandfather, after all. So soon after the attack, this visit will offend him.”
“His Majesty has his kingdom’s best interest at heart. He’s united with Kathra through blood, and King Sverrin now wishes to strengthen our allegiance with Bethean similarly.”
“Is that the selling line?” Aurora said, and spotted Zachary yawning. “You’re tired, my lord?”
“I am completely capable of defending you in an attack.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Zachary’s headache had only gotten worse. The sun was blinding, his fatigue was heavy and he wanted to lie somewhere dark and cool. He maintained his diligence. “Apologies, Your Highness.”
“You needn’t be so formal with me.” Aurora swung her legs. “There are many in my father’s court who simply call me Aurora—though maybe I am rebellious.” She said the last word with a flourish, and Zachary couldn’t help but be a little fond of her. She peered around at him. “It’s DuMorne, isn’t it?” she said suddenly. Zachary jolted.
“Excuse me?”
“Your name: Arlen Zachary DuMorne. Or am I mistaken?”
Zachary whistled, “I haven’t heard anyone call me that for a long time.”
“You do not go by it?”
“Not if I can help it.” Zachary chewed the inside of his mouth. “Very few people in the capital are aware that I have any association with the DuMornes at all. How did you know?”
“The DuMornes rule Anaes’s Fort,” Aurora said. “which lies on the boarder of Bethean. Is it not prudent for me to know my neighbours?”
Know your enemies, more like. Zachary thought to himself, still chewing on the inside of his lip. “How much do you know of my family?”
“Only that the DuMornes fell on financial difficulty, and married their daughter Elizabeth to the son of a wealthy Magi. Your father, Lord Rivalen.”
“Then you know the extent of it.”
“Is it not tradition in Harmatia for the children of two noble families to take the name of the greater family?” Aurora asked curiously, and Zachary shrugged, nodding. Aurora frowned, her freckles bunching together as her nose wrinkled. “Why then have you not taken the DuMorne name?”
“Honestly?” Zachary grumbled, the reins loose in his hands. The sun was beating down on them, and for once he wished his uniform wasn’t entirely black. The fabric absorbed the heat, and it only served to make Zachary feel even drowsier. “Because it’s a horrible name.”
“Ah,” Aurora tapped her chin, “I suppose it does have a sad connotations. DuMorne— the ancient house of mourning.”
“When you put like that, it sounds more like a curse than a name.”
Aurora giggled. “So you choose to go by Zachary instead?”
“My grandfather was well acknowledged as a Magi. Even if my father lacked any magical ability, the ‘Zachary’ name yet holds power within those circles.” Zachary struggled to supress another yawn. He wasn’t sure why, but it was very easy to speak to Aurora. The conversation was seamless. Zachary wondered vaguely if he was being manipulated, and decided he didn’t care.
“It’s fortunate that you have a good first name, at least,” Aurora mused. She was frowning again, though by her slight pout it seemed more in irritation now, than confusion. “In Bethean, it’s believed fortune favours children named for their ancestors. The names are passed down through the families, so most of them are utterly archaic.”
Zachary raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like the name ‘Aurora’?”
“Aurora is my middle name,” Aurora said, “though everyone calls me by it, on account that my birth name is ghastly.”
Zachary chuckled. “If it brings you comfort, Princess, so is mine.”
“What’s wrong with Arlen? It’s a good name.” Aurora turned in her saddle.
“Yet, like you, it wasn’t my given-name at birth.”
Aurora gave a wide smile, “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours?”
Zachary considered this. The Princess, he sensed, was trying to endear herself to him. She was building up a rapport between them and by giving his name to her, Zachary would be investing in that. Most likely, Zachary suspected, Aurora was trying to gain a friend within Sverrin’s court. She no doubt thought Zachary held sway with the King. She was terribly mistaken, but still, Zachary liked her. He nodded his head.
“Go on then, Princess.”
“Cunégonde.” Aurora announced with a sour look on her face, her nose wrinkled.
“Excuse me?”
“Cunégonde. Coo-neh-gond.” Aurora pronounced it out for him. “It’s Réneian, and it’s ghastly. ‘Cu’ is slang for ‘bottom’ in East-Réne, you know, and it means ‘hound’ in Betheanian.”
Zachary burst out laughing, and Aurora grimaced.
“It was a family name—my parents were obliged. Now you understand why I go by Aurora.”
“I do, Princess. That is very unfortunate.”
“And yours? If it’s worse than mine, I’ll give you my weight in gold.” Aurora’s eyes sparkled bonnily. Zachary exhaled.
“Mine is Tristus, though I’ll thank you not to tell anybody that.”
“Tristus?” Aurora cocked her head to one side, “But that’s charming. Like Tristan. Why do you not like it?”
“Because it’s also slang, Princess.” Zachary tried to keep the bitterness from his tongue. “It means ‘still-born’.”
Aurora was silent for a moment. “What could possess a parent to name their child such a thing?”
Zachary leant across in his saddle and gave her a lopsided grin. “Oh, they say we place our aspirations in the names of our children. Apparently, my mother’s wishes for me were not so great.”
Aurora’s mouth pinched. “I had heard the DuMorne family were an unpleasant lot.”
“You heard correctly.” Zachary straightened, and then sniggered. “Still, better than being called arse-hound.”
“You are not to repeat that name to anybody!”
“By my honour, Princess, your secret is safe with me.”
Aurora narrowed her eyes and twitched her nose in thought. For some reason it reminded Zachary of a rabbit eating a dandelion and he struggled against a sudden, strong desire to reach across and pat her head. His fatigue was making him delirious.
“Pednsyvige! Pednsyvige!” From the fields around, the children had gathered to watch the party ride past. They ran along the horses, led by a pale-haired girl who was holding a flower garland outstretched in her hand. She called again for the Princess. Zachary gestured for the soldiers to let the child through.
Aurora bent down to receive the gift. “Meur ras,” she thanked in
Althion, and the children looked delighted as she placed it on her head. From her purse, Aurora passed them all a coin each. They ran shyly away, stopping at a distance to wave.
“You can speak Althion?” Zachary asked.
“Only a little—it’s spoken by some in Bethean. I thought it best to try and learn.”
“Then may I congratulate you on your pronunciation.” Zachary nodded up to the garland. “Your crown is already coming apart.”
“Oh no.” Aurora took it from her head. “It must have come loose while they were running.”
“Here.” Zachary held out his hand and she passed it to him wordlessly. He tied his reins into a knot and set to work braiding the flowers back together.
Aurora giggled. “You are clearly an expert.”
“My sister taught me when I was very young. I used to make them every year.”
“Not anymore?”
Zachary didn’t reply, taking the fixed garland and putting it onto his head. He looked across to Aurora for her verdict and she laughed. “I think it suits you better, Princess.” He passed it across, and she settled it back onto her red hair. Zachary looked at her, his fondness growing. “May I ask you a question, Princess?”
“Please.”
“Why did you agree to come to Harmatia?”
“Do you think me unwise?”
“I think it can’t have been appealing for you.” Zachary worded carefully. Aurora gazed out over the plains of Corhlam, her expression distant. For a while she didn’t speak, and when she did, it wasn’t in answer to Zachary’s question.
“You remind me a little of him, Lord Zachary. Or what I remember.”
“Who?”
“Jionat,” she said brightly and Zachary choked.
“The Delphi?” He coughed. “I remind you of Prince Jionathan?”
“He saved my life, you know. And though I only knew him fleetingly, I have never forgotten him. I was so frightened when he found me, but when he took my hand I saw a great light in him, and it comforted me. He made me believe that all would be well. I could trust him.”
“I fail to see how I compare.” Zachary had been likened to many people and things, but never the Delphi Prince he’d murdered.
“You have a similar impression. It’s difficult to describe, but I think you’re both very morally driven men. Uncompromising, almost. You know right from wrong—you can feel it very deeply inside of you.”
“I think you have mistaken me.” Zachary felt his body tense. Aurora’s eyes were too piercing. He focused back on the road.
“No,” she decided, “I think not. By the by, Jionat was an honourable man, and I have to believe his decision to sacrifice himself for his brother is a mark of King Sverrin’s true nature.”
She can’t be that naïve, Zachary frowned. No, she’s lying to me. At least, in part.
“People speak of him very strongly, but I wanted to see for myself. To understand why Jionat would give his life. I cannot believe he would do so without good cause. That’s why I chose to accept King Sverrin’s invitation.”
Zachary, unsure how to answer, steered the conversation away from the King. He didn’t want to be caught lying. “I haven’t heard that abbreviation in a long time—Jionat.”
“It’s what they called him, Fae and Rufus. I suspect he actually enjoyed being Jionat more than he did Prince Jionathan,” Aurora said evenly. “I wonder which he was when he gave his life.”
Zachary didn’t know how to answer. He’d never felt comfortable speaking about the Delphi brat, and in the increasing years, Zachary had felt his hatred for the boy descend to pity. He’d once even caught himself wondering how Harmatia would have looked had the Delphi taken the throne. The most disturbing part was that, in his mind, the people had looked happier.
“I feel,” Zachary eventually said, his voice thick, “it matters more who he’s remembered as.”
“Jionat then,” Aurora breathed, her eyes distant, drawn back to a different time. “It’ll have to be Jionat.”
Zachary made it to the Hathely house just as the sun began to set. He interrupted an early dinner, thrust Béatrice’s now crumbled letter into Marcel’s hand and then promptly fell asleep in a nearby armchair.
Emeric woke him an hour later, rousing him from a busy dream where he’d been counting flower stalks on a hill in Corhlam whilst trying to chase away a cow before it ate them all.
“Stupid cow—I’ll eat it,” Zachary slurred as Emeric shook his shoulder again, peering into his captain’s unfocused eyes.
“Zachary?” Emeric called, and glanced worriedly over his shoulder. “I think he might be running a fever.”
Zachary groaned and pushed himself upright, rubbing his face aggressively. “Stop.” He batted Emeric away. “Fell asleep, s’all. Wha’s it? What?”
Marcel leant over his apprentice. “Your master is here.”
Zachary squinted. His head hurt and everything was spinning. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but it seemed worse than usual. He chose a spot on the ceiling and allowed his eyes to adjust. When he looked down, he was able to make out that one of the blurred shapes leaning over him was Belphegore.
“Mas’er?” he asked, pushed himself straighter. “D’I have a duty?”
“No.” Belphegore reached across and pressed the back of his fingers to Zachary’s forehead. Zachary twitched, pulling away. Belphegore’s hands were cold. “But I heard you made an unauthorised journey to Kathra last night, and I wanted to come and berate your foolishness myself.”
I wonder if he’ll compare me to my father as well. Zachary blinked slowly, already tired of the conversation.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it was? You could have been shot from the sky, or worse. We may have never found you,” Belphegore continued, his voice slowly ebbing away.
Or Jionat. Jionathan. Prince Jionathan, Zachary’s internal voice continued to twitter. Oh no, it’s collapsing in here now. Collapse she said, collapse, collapse.
“Arlen?” Belphegore called, as Zachary’s eyes dropped closed. He could still hear the jangle of the cow bell from his dream. Sverrin had tried to ride a cow once. Stupid boy. Zachary had laughed. He’d laughed…
“Healing Septus—Arlen!” Belphegore said sharply, as Zachary’s entire head dropped. He jerked awake. Belphegore’s irritation was replaced with concern, his hands clamped on Zachary’s shoulders.
“Ach, m’sorry,” Zachary garbled. “Tired. Sons o’ the gods, m’tired.” He struggled to remove himself from the seat, and stumbled up to his feet, swaying. “Home,” he said. “Bed. I’ll go.”
“That sounds like an extremely good idea.” Belphegore steadied Zachary as he tipped to the side. Zachary winced—he wished they would speak softer and in shorter sentences. Each word was like a puncture wound through his head. “Lord Hathely, would you…”
Marcel was already at Zachary’s arm. “I shall see him there,” he said quietly.
“Should we…should we not call him a physician?”
Zachary swore at Emeric’s suggestion and, disorientated as he was, strode away from the conversation. Marcel walked at his side, steering him around the table before Zachary could plough into it. Zachary shook his head, trying to rouse himself a little, but instead sent the world into a spinning mess. As they made it outside, Marcel took him by the arm and shoulder and dragged him back as he veered into a rose bush.
They walked in silence, Zachary slowing his ambitious stride to a tired and clumsy crawl. Confusing thoughts filtered through his mind, a jumble of ideas that made little sense.
“You should not have gone to Sigel’eg,” Marcel said, and then, seemingly happy to waylay the rest of the conversation, simply concluded, “thank you.”
“M’told her I’s not passin’ the kiss on,” Zachary replied matter-of-factly.
They reached the house, and Zachary stumbled on the stairs to his door. Marcel helped him up each one, patient and quiet, before depositing him at the door.
“Bed,” he instructed.
“N’yes.”
Marcel waited to see Zachary let himself in. He’d once had a doorman, but the old man had died, and Zachary had never replaced him. Now he couldn’t trust anyone new he hired.
Daniel, true to his word, was waiting for Zachary inside, perched on the staircase and watching the door expectantly. Zachary physically drooped at the sight of him. Daniel stood.
“Healing Septus—you look terrible.”
“Oh, i’s been long day.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Tired.” Zachary made his way to the stairs, tripped on the first one, and crumpled at Daniel’s side, sprawled up. It wasn’t comfortable, but he’d slept in worse places. “M’forgot you wan’ed to speak. S’it urgent?”
“No.” Daniel shuffled his feet. “It doesn’t matter.”
Even through his desperate need to go to sleep, Zachary could see Daniel was disappointed. The boy had clearly been working up the courage to speak with him, and Zachary wondered if, at another dismissal, Daniel would give up and let the subject drop entirely. He rolled onto his back. “Ach, i‘s important, wasn’t it?”
Daniel leant over and took Zachary by the arm, hauling him back to his feet. “No.” Daniel didn’t look at him, walking with Zachary as he made his way up the stairs.
“Yes ’tis. M’sorry. Think’m…mm…” Zachary stopped halfway up. The stairs shifted beneath his feet. He felt as if he were suddenly looking down them instead of up.
Sons of the gods…Emeric was right. I must have a fever. He touched his hands to his face, and stumbled back.
“Arlen—” Daniel gasped. Zachary’s heel slipped off the step.
I hate fevers, he thought dully as he fell.
“I didn’t want to believe it.”
Aurora jumped and then scowled, looking in the mirror past her shoulder. From the corner of the room, Embarr Reagon could be seen in the reflection, lounging on her bed.
“Speak freely—no one can hear us,” he added with a flourish of his hand. “My magic is useful for some things.”
Blood of the Delphi (The Harmatia Cycle Book 2) Page 43
