by K. C. May
“I had no idea. How’d you remedy it?”
She took a deep breath. “I didn’t. Rogan did. He showed up on my mother’s doorstep and apologized for his mistakes and his flaws as a man, begged me to forgive him, and said no matter our disagreements, we belong together. He said he could never love another woman the way he loved me. I was ashamed at myself for running out on such a fine husband, and so we went back home with him. I think GJ was made that night.” Liera giggled. “And soon I came to see he was right — about the boys, about the farm, about a lot of things.”
Gavin nodded. They both fell silent for a few moments.
“Gavin,” she said quietly, “I appreciate and understand your wanting to comfort GJ when he’s missing his father, but pretending you’re him won’t help him adjust to the fact that Rogan’s dead.”
“Maybe not,” Gavin said. “He’s just a boy, and he’ll live the rest o’his life with only the memories he has, which’ll fade as he gets older. If he needs an embrace or a whispered word to get through a tough day, the ones who support him and help him will earn and keep his trust. I can’t be their papa, but they look to me they way they would’ve looked to him. I resemble Rogan enough to remind them every day o’what they lost.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Liera snapped. “Whenever I glimpse you walking past, my heart pounds with the hope my dead husband’s miraculously returned to life. My loss is renewed the very next moment when I realize it’s you.” She burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.
He sat there helplessly, unsure what words to use to comfort her. He missed Rogan too, and accepted the responsibility for all the pain his death caused. He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Liera.” He could think of nothing else to say. The ache in her heart wouldn’t be cured by words. He knew that. “I’m going to Calsojourn tomorrow. At least you’ll have a respite from my face for a bit.”
Despite her red nose and tear-filled eyes, Liera laughed. “I don’t know whether to be glad or sad.” She stood, leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Go up and talk to your wife.”
Chapter 21
Their last night together didn’t go quite as Gavin had hoped it would. Feanna was cold, shrugging off his touch, and tugged the bed covers tighter around herself. He knew what she wanted to hear — an admission that he’d manipulated Liera into supporting his argument without knowing it was Rogan’s secret and not Gavin’s they were talking about. He wouldn’t do it. The principle was the same, and Liera stated what her preference was. For Gavin to disregard it to satisfy Feanna’s sensibilities was to do an injustice to Liera. The matter was between Rogan and his wife, and not between Feanna and anyone else. Lying beside her in the dark, Gavin tried to explain it. He even told her Liera knew about Keturah but believed her to be Gavin’s daughter, but Feanna just pulled the covers over her head and made no reply.
When he awoke in the morning, her side of the bed was empty and cold. He bathed and dressed and found her outside the stable, directing the packing of her bags, while her footman chased after her with a rainshade.
“I want my books in the carriage with me,” she said. “And perhaps some bread and cheese.”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but we can stop for a meal whenever you’d like,” the footman said.
Their three daughters were sitting in one carriage, giggling and waving and blowing kisses through the open window. Their son, Trevick, was on the wagon, arranging crates and baggage and strapping them down. Gavin’s nephews Jaesh and Asiawyth were standing with Liera, watching with sadness, while Rogan’s youngest son, named after Gavin, was hunting for stones and skipping them across the larger puddles.
Gavin went up behind Feanna and put his arms around her and nuzzled her honey-colored hair where it fell softly across her shoulders and back. She turned around to face him. “Gavin, I’m glad you’re here. I tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t stir. I was hoping to say good-bye before I left.”
Hoping to? The idea that she would have left without saying good-bye if he hadn’t awoken in time didn’t sit well with him. Once she was back from Ambryce, they would need to sit down and talk, to resolve the tension that seemed to be building between them. He hoped it was just her pregnancy making her more difficult and emotional. That would pass. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that he’d chosen his bride too hastily, before knowing her true temperament.
The horses were hitched, the supplies were loaded and the battlers and attendants were ready to mount. Feanna bent down to kiss and embrace each of the children. She entreated them to behave themselves and do their lessons. By the time she reached Trevick, who’d hung back shyly, tears were streaming freely down her cheeks, and the three girls were bawling.
“Oh, don’t cry, my loves,” Feanna said, wiping her eyes. “You’ll have Papa to keep you company, and I’ll be home before you know it.”
Oh hell, Gavin thought. He’d forgotten to tell her he was taking Cirang to Calsojourn. He wondered whether he should tell her now or just explain to the children after she left. No, she would find out from them when she got home, and he would be under her shoe for days, maybe even weeks.
“Um,” he said, scratching his temple, “I meant to tell you yesterday — I got to go to Calsojourn. I’m planning to leave shortly myself.”
She looked at him with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “You were going to let me leave without telling me that? Who’s going to stay with the children?”
“Edan will be here, and Liera. Hell, we got a whole palace full o’people to look after them.”
She opened her hands dramatically. “But neither of their parents. Couldn’t you have timed your journey for after I returned? By the Savior, Gavin!”
The three girls quieted, looking at them both with wide eyes.
He didn’t want to do this in front of the children and her attendants and guards. If he just apologized, maybe she would drop the matter until they could talk. Alone. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you yesterday.”
“Yes, Gavin. You should have. Why didn’t you? Why couldn’t you just tell me you were going away? It’s such a simple thing. I could have delayed my own journey if yours is so important.”
“You kept storming out o’the room every time we had a conversation.” He knew as soon as he said it that it was the wrong thing, but he’d never been very good at stilling his tongue when he had something to say.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Edan approach, followed closely by Eriska, who must have gone to fetch him.
“So it’s my fault?” Feanna screeched.
Now all the battlers and attendants were inspecting their boots, their saddles, anything to hide their embarrassment.
“No,” Gavin said with a sigh, wishing he could unsay what he’d said. “It’s not. I should’ve made a better effort, but you didn’t make it easy. I said I’m sorry.”
“Children,” Edan said, “say your good-byes and go inside. Your mother will be home in no time.”
The three girls quietly embraced Feanna once more, no doubt sensing the tension and not wanting to add to it with more tears. Jilly ran to Adro and embraced him tightly, and then the girls went with Edan back inside. Trevick gave Feanna a shy embrace and stepped back with blush in his face.
Gavin brushed away his wife’s tears with his thumbs and kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk when you get home. I’ll be back afore you are. Just be safe, awright? Don’t go anywhere without Tennara, Lila or Adro.”
She nodded, embraced him quickly, and climbed into her carriage with the help of her footman. Her caravan started off.
Gavin watched them ride off, then patted Trevick on the shoulder and headed back inside. “While I’m gone, I’d like you to lend Edan a hand with whatever he needs. It’ll be good for you to see how things are run around here.”
The boy bobbed his blond head. “I will. When will you be home, sire?”
“If all goes well, in about eight days.”
He found Edan squatting in the hall, explaining to the three girls that because their parents were the king and queen, they needed to get used to them traveling from time to time to take care of important matters.
The girls noticed Gavin and ran to him. He scooped Jilly up and tucked her in the crook of one arm while he joined Edan with a knee on the floor. “You girls will be awright for a few days without me, won’t you?”
They nodded, though they didn’t appear enthusiastic.
“Focus on your lessons and the time will go by faster than you know.”
“Yeh, but our lessons are stupid,” Iriel said. “I don’t need to learn letters and numbers. I want to learn swordplay.”
“I know you wanted to be a Viragon Sister, but the Sisterhood has been disbanded and the beyonders are gone. Maybe it’s time to make a new goal, and until you do, reading, writing, and figuring numbers are good skills to have, even if your goal is to become a battler. I prefer battlers who can read and understand battle plans to those who can’t.”
Iriel looked up eagerly. “So can I learn reading by studying battle plans?”
Gavin and Edan looked at each other and chuckled. “See why I love this girl?” Gavin asked him. “No, sweetheart. You got to start with more basic lessons.”
Edan said, “Another important quality of a battler is perseverance. Do you know what that is?”
Iriel shook her head.
He explained the meaning of the word for her. “King Gavin’s perseverance is why we’re here today. You’re only nine years old. If you develop perseverance now, by the time you’re old enough to serve as a soldier, you’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”
Iriel looked to Gavin for confirmation, and he nodded. “May I go with you to Calsojourn, Papa? I’ll bring my book and do my lessons while we ride. Please?”
It had charmed Gavin that Iriel was the first of Feanna’s adopted children to start calling him Papa. The other girls soon followed her lead, but Trevick still called him by his title, no matter how fatherly he tried to be. “No, we’ll have a dangerous malefactor with us. I need you to stay here and help watch over your sisters.”
Daia approached, dressed to ride with a knapsack over her shoulder. “Are you ready to leave?”
Gavin hugged the girls one last time, and tried to hug Trevick but settled for a handshake. The stable hands had Golam and the other horses saddled and ready, and his two guards were waiting. Quint met them there with a bundle of warm bread, cheese and ham to eat on the way. “You’re good to me, Quint. My thanks.”
“I’ll be glad to come along,” Quint said. “I’ve packed a bag, in the event His Majesty has changed his mind.”
Gavin clapped his shoulder. “He hasn’t. I’ll be counting on you to have bath water ready when I get back, though.”
“Of course, sire. And a shave.”
Edan surveyed his companions. “Only three battlers? Gavin...”
He’d chosen Vandra and Brawna to guard Cirang. Although Brawna hadn’t completed her training with the Viragon Sisterhood, she was a dedicated battler to whom Gavin had once promised a job. She had reason to distrust both Cirang and Sithral Tyr, and Gavin thought her a good choice to watch his prisoner. “You worry about keeping things running smoothly here. Daia’ll worry about me. I’m not in any danger just traveling from here to Calsojourn.”
“Let’s at least take Galiveth instead of Brawna,” Daia said. “She’s callow.”
Brawna hung her head.
“I have my reasons for choosing Brawna. We’ll be fine.”
Edan launched into a lecture about assassins and unresolved grievances between Thendylath and its former enemy, Cyprindia. “The fear of beyonders kept them from our shores. Now that the beyonders are gone, there’s nothing to keep them from coming to settle old scores.”
“Scores that got nothing to do with me.”
“Sons repay their fathers’ debts,” Edan said.
Gavin cast him a sharp glance, wondering whether Edan had guessed Gavin’s debt, the one he’d handed down to himself from his life as his own ancestor, Ronor Kinshield. Gavin had kept that secret closely guarded. Even Feanna didn’t know who he truly was.
“We’ll be fine. I’ll send word if we’re delayed for any reason. Fear not, Edan. Everything’ll go as planned.” As soon as he said those words, Gavin got an odd feeling that something would go wrong.
Chapter 22
Gavin’s team consisted of Vandra, Brawna and Daia, each dressed in the blue tunic and trousers uniform of the First Royal Guard, mail shirt with blue and gold ribbons woven into the elbow-length sleeves, a new sword, a dagger strapped to her calf, and an oiled, full-length leather cloak to keep the rain off. Daia’s mail was further distinguished by a round, flat medallion, stamped with a wolf’s paw in the center of the chest.
Also dressed in mail, Gavin had Aldras Gar in its customary scabbard on his back which stuck out from under his cloak through a slit. Though a few drops of rain found their way down his back, he preferred getting wet to wearing the sword on his hip.
“Can you make a magical rainshade?” Vandra asked as they started across the bridge. “I saw a mage using one the other day.”
It was a good idea. After a couple of tries, Gavin constructed a large, clear canopy that hovered a few feet over their heads like a giant rainshade. Though gusts of wind blew the rain sideways and sprinkled them, the canopy kept most of the rain off the riders and their horses. Satisfied, he stored the spell in one of the gems in Aldras Gar’s hilt so he wouldn’t need to constantly think about keeping the canopy up.
Equipped with knapsacks and satchels of dried food, waterskins, bedrolls and tarps, they stopped at the Lordover Tern’s gaol to get Cirang. Because Gavin hadn’t sent prior word they were coming, the warden refused to release her to Vandra and Brawna, even dressed in the mail of the First Royal Guard, and so Gavin had to go inside the gaol’s office himself.
“What’s the problem?” he asked. The last time he was here, he’d beaten Jophet, his new Supreme Councilor of the Militia, unconscious.
The gaol warden, a pudgy buck with a thick, black beard, broke into a sweat. “Oh! There’s no problem, sire. No problem at all.” He fumbled with the keyring, dropped it, hit his head on the edge of the desk when he bent to pick it up, and staggered into the wall. “Sorry, sire. Sorry. I’ll bring her right out.”
Gavin and his battlers followed him, taking note of the stench, the dirty faces ogling him from the cells, the water leaking onto the floor. Prisoners begged to be fed, to have a bath, to plead their case to him and win back their freedom. While some wardens believed prisoners should receive minimal comfort and care while in gaol, these conditions were worse than any he’d seen. Maybe Gavin needed to establish some formal requirements all the gaol wardens would have to adhere to.
“Clean up this gaol and feed these people,” he told the warden. “I’ll be back to inspect it in a week. I don’t want to smell this stench or see dirty faces looking back at me. You hear?”
“Yes, sire. O’course. I just— o’course, sire.” The warden stumbled over his own feet, caught himself, and then fiddled with a few keys before opening one of the cell doors.
Cirang smiled when she saw Gavin. “Well, well, Your Royal Highness. What a surprise. I guess you couldn’t refuse my offer after all.”
Vandra put a set of shackles on Cirang’s wrists and shoved her down the corridor. The other prisoners watched with envy from the little window in the door of their cell, and Cirang looked at each of them as she walked past, a superior smirk on her face. “I know your faces,” she told them. “Don’t forget the debt you owe me. I’ll be calling on you to repay it someday.”
“We’ll be waitin’,” one prisoner said. He flicked his tongue at her and cackled, and the other men hooted and jeered.
After draping a cloak over Cirang’s shoulders and pulling the hood up over her head, Vandra put Cirang on a mule, facing backwards. Its reins were tied to Vandra’s saddle, and Br
awna took up the rear. It occurred to Gavin he was the only male in the party, and he was the one being protected rather than doing the protecting. How different his life had become from only a few months earlier.
Outside Tern, the road sloped gradually downhill. Although wet, it was made of well packed dirt and rocks and repelled much of the rainwater, which ran along the sides of the road, forming rivulets in the weeds.
Though they stayed mostly dry beneath the canopy, the constant ping of rain hitting it was unpleasant. Lack of conversation made the ride even drearier. As a warrant knight, he’d spent too many days riding alone and passed the time by talking or singing to Golam. He didn’t necessarily want to do the talking, but someone should. For a while, Vandra and Brawna made fun of Cirang and the rude and audacious things she’d gotten away with while she was a Viragon Sister, but soon they ran out of stories to tell.
“Tell me one thing about yourself I didn’t know,” Gavin said, “and then tell me one thing about the person before you. Daia you start.”
“Me? All right. You probably didn’t know I refused to wear a dress until I was eight years old. My father’s men-at-arms thought I was a boy with a funny name.”
Amidst the chuckles, Cirang said, “And then she lifted her skirt for every one of them.”
“Shut up, Cirang,” Daia spat.
“So tell us one thing about King Gavin,” Vandra said. She had a lisp when she spoke due to the absence of two front teeth, but it didn’t seem to make her self-conscious, despite Cirang’s mockery.
Gavin was glad Edan hadn’t come. He knew nearly all of Gavin’s secrets, but he could be trusted not to give any away that Gavin wouldn’t want told. Chances were good his companions would want to know how he’d lost his eyetooth, and that was a story he’d never tell again. “Daia doesn’t know my secrets.”
“King Gavin has a tender heart,” she said with a teasing lilt. “I saw him comfort a little girl who’d been knocked down in the street by a drunk.”
