by K. C. May
the ring in his hand, wondering why she couldn’t go inside with it. Magic barrier, perhaps.
Through the open door, he saw three clerics busy lighting candles, sweeping the floor, and straightening the benches. Daia walked up the aisle towards them, but the door swung shut before he could see anything else.
“You seen a woman battler dressed as a First Royal Guard with short, black hair?” he asked the armsmen.
They shook their heads.
“You seen any woman with short, black hair?”
One armsman lifted his chin and pointed with his eyes. Gavin followed his gaze and saw a woman matching his vague description, but it wasn’t Cirang.
“The one we’re looking for has thick lips, brown eyes, about this tall.” He held his flattened hand to his upper chest, indicating Cirang’s approximate height.
“Sorry,” the guard said. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Awright. If you see her, don’t let her anywhere near my— I mean, the queen. She’s a killer.”
“Dressed as a First Royal?”
“That’s right.”
After several minutes, Daia came out of the temple and joined him. “She wasn’t inside, and the clerics haven’t seen anyone matching her description. I’m starting to believe she might actually be dead.”
The muscles in Gavin’s shoulders and neck relaxed. He wouldn’t be completely satisfied until he saw her corpse. “That’s a relief,” he said, handing her ring back. “We haven’t asked the city custodian yet if he’s got her body. Let’s do that next.”
Daia lifted her chin. “Here comes Feanna’s carriage.”
Chapter 44
Feanna exited the orphanage, surrounded by chattering children, begging her to stay just a while longer. This visit had gone much more smoothly than the visit to Tern’s orphanage had. The manager was not only accommodating but seemed to have the same level of concern regarding the children’s welfare Feanna had. They looked clean and well fed, and they were enthusiastic, inquisitive, and playful, as children should be. He had done wonders caring for the children with the money he received from the Lordover Ambryce.
Each child had his own bed — a true bed, not just a rat-infested pallet on the floor — and small shelf upon which he kept his belongings. There was a central playroom, where the children kept their toys and several books.
The kitchen, which Feanna had dreaded going to see, was clean, although sparse. It certainly wasn’t the kitchen in the palace, but it was suitable and she didn’t see a single insect or rodent during any of her visits. When Feanna inquired, he winked at her and said he had some magical talent, including the ability to drive away pests.
Above all, there was no torture chair for misbehaving children. She was invited to return anytime without making prior arrangements, so confident was he that she would always find the orphanage clean, tidy, and up to her standards.
He’d not only introduced her to the children but let her take groups of them to the bookman’s and other shops to be fitted for clothes and shoes. Today, she had broken her fast with them and read two more chapters of The Fairytale Angel aloud before bidding them good-bye. She gave each child a parting gift this time, a fruit-filled tart from a bakehouse on the way, for she planned to begin her long journey back to Tern first thing in the morning, and she needed to spend the day packing and preparing for travel.
Although the streets were muddy and the people wet, citizens seemed excited to see her. They stood along the streets shoulder to shoulder, with their little ones atop their shoulders, to get a glimpse of their queen, and so she waved at them, and they cheered in return. The lordover’s soldiers had done a good job keeping the crowd’s distance and maintaining order when someone became too enthusiastic. She took the coachman’s arm and climbed into the carriage.
Feanna blew kisses at the orphans as they waved and shouted their good-byes. She’d enjoyed the visit, but she missed her own children and was eager to return home and continue making amends to her husband. She knew she’d been overly emotional and sensitive lately, and at times downright unreasonable, perhaps due to the pregnancy. It would be a joyful reunion with them all.
Tennara assumed her usual position in front of the carriage, along with Mirrah. Adro rode on the left, and Lilalian on the right, while Hennah and Anya took up the rear. The coach rolled down the street at a lazy pace. From within, the queen waved to the citizens who’d gathered along the streets looking like dirty, half-drowned rats. She waved and smiled, waved and smiled. Though the city was filthy, and the rains hadn’t helped matters, it seemed the people’s sense of excitement had not been dampened.
At first, the sheer number of citizens crowded together to see her was alarming — how could her battlers defend her if they decided to revolt? She’d heard stories about large groups of people going from mildly annoyed to murderous mob in no time, and Ambryce had been mired in scandal and poverty far too long. When she noticed smiles on their faces and not angry red maws, she relaxed. The people looked happy and hopeful. Perhaps the city truly was healing from the corruption that had gripped it for so long.
Hundreds of people were gathered outside the temple. Tennara had specifically asked the High Cleric not to announce the queen’s impending visit, but somehow word had gotten out. Feanna supposed it was to be expected, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. The communion was her private business, to be done in quiet, not with a thousand pairs of eyes watching and a thousand lips whispering.
Several of the lordover’s men-at-arms were waiting outside the temple, ready to contain the crowd of onlookers. As the carriage pulled up, they took up positions around it.
Feanna took the offered hand of the footman and alighted from the carriage, smiling at the cheering people. Then, someone began yelling, and the crowd gradually quieted. Adro and Tennara stepped in close to shield her, their swords drawn. Mirrah urged her to hurry into the temple. Across the street, a shoving match had started, and many who weren’t shouting were oohing and gasping in surprise.
“Hey now,” Lilalian shouted, approaching the affray with her sword ready. “Take your disagreement elsewhere.”
Something flew through the air and hit Lilalian in the chest. Feanna gasped. “Lila!” Adro urged her to get back into the carriage, but she needed to see what happened — to see whether Lilalian was hurt. A few people laughed, but most wore expressions of disbelief or outrage, and shuffled away from the center of the conflict, leaving a couple standing alone. The woman was armed with a basket of eggs, and the man had one in his hand, turning it with small flicks of his fingers. They were dressed well, and she even had ribbons in her hair, woven into her braid like the traditional followers of Asti-nayas used to do before the practice fell out of fashion.
“Leave now,” Lilalian said, “before someone gets hurt.”
The man smirked, lightly tossed the egg in his hand as if assessing its weight, and then backed away. The woman sneered directly at Feanna, radiating contempt. “You won’t be chosen, Your Loftiness. Go home. Go back to your pretty palace and fancy gowns and leave us alone.”
The crowd was silent, as aghast as the queen was. Until now, Feanna had only been greeted warmly. She wasn’t prepared to be insulted or disrespected, but that was what she felt now. Tears stung her eyes. Had the couple not been armed with eggs, she might have spoken to them, to ask what had inspired their discourtesy, but she didn’t want to enter the temple with egg on her costly dress. There was something viciously inhuman in their eyes, and she suspected she wouldn’t get satisfying answers anyway.
An affectionate protectiveness engulfed her, emanating from her six guards. She usually sensed emotions from others only when she touched them — unless Daia helped her. She looked around quickly for her husband, knowing Daia would be nearby. No, she thought. They wouldn’t be here. People would recognize him and would be swarming all around him, forgetting about Feanna’s presence there. She couldn’t deny her empathy was stronger here. The temple,
perhaps. She looked up at its bell tower, at its beautiful, colored-glass windows and tall spires. It must have been the power of Asti-nayas infused in the building that enhanced her god-given gift.
With her guards around her, she went inside. As soon as she crossed the threshold, her sense of other people’s emotions vanished, as though a shroud had settled over her.
To her surprise, only a few worshipers were seated in the pews with their heads bowed. A cleric knelt before the altar, moving his hand in the gesture of subservience and chanting softly. The words were familiar, but their meaning was foreign. One day, she would like to know what the chants meant. Her guards stood aside to let her proceed them, and then followed her lead when she took a seat near the front of the nave.
A young couple came down the steps of the dais with their beautiful daughter, having just received the sacrament. The expressions on their faces were less serene than bewildered. Feanna bowed her head to begin her prayers.
Asti-nayas, I humbly submit my life to y—
“Filthy peasant.”
Feanna looked up in shock and met the cold eyes of the girl. She didn’t need her empathy to know the child’s heart was filled with loathing. It was plain from the expression on her snarling face. Had some wicked spirit possessed her? That must have been why her parents had brought her, but why now? How could such a dark soul enter a house of the Savior without shrieking in pain and fleeing in horror? Why wasn’t the High Cleric performing some sort of cleansing ritual?
Feanna looked up to check the ceiling for the symbols written in gold and gems to ward off evil and protect the temple from magic. They were sparser than the temple in Tern, but they were present. It made no sense how a child could be stricken with such darkness and enter this holiest of places.
The family took their daughter outside, and Feanna was left wondering what would become of the child. She would have a word with the High Cleric later. She needed to understand. Why hadn’t taking the sacrament warded her, or at the very least killed the darkness within her? She needed answers, and who better to seek them from than the god Himself?
Asti-nayas, I humbly submit my life to you. My faith has been shaken, but I don’t want to harbor doubt in my heart. Forgive me, my Savior. Please help me to understand what I witnessed today.
She’d come intending to pray for the orphaned children to find loving families, for Cirang to be caught before she hurt anyone else, and for Gavin to be more understanding and less dominating towards his wife, but she was too disturbed by what she’d seen in that child. She was eager to take her sacrament and proceed to the guidance chamber where she could confer with the High Cleric.
Her guards stood when she did and made way for her to step into the aisle. Tennara and Lilalian were followers of the Farthan sage Yrys, and so Feanna didn’t expect them to take the sacrament with her, but Mirrah, Hennah, and Anya had already expressed interest in participating in the ritual. And Adro. He was most in need of spiritual healing. Despite his aspirations to live a good, honorable life, he had remnants of darkness in his soul, which she felt in the form of lust whenever she brushed against him. It wasn’t the pleasant, loving desire she felt from her husband, but the raw itch of debauchery that wouldn’t be satisfied simply by bedding a woman. The sacrament would cleanse him. With her guards following, she ascended the dais.
As she approached the sacramental font, an acolyte, dressed in a plain white robe with the customary lace veil, curtsied deeply and uncharacteristically. Feanna chalked it up to nervousness. The acolytes at the temple in Tern never acknowledged her, as was expected, perhaps because they were more experienced and better instructed. The girl dipped a ladle into the font, poured the blessed water into a porcelain cup, and handed it to her.
Feanna raised the cup to her lips and let the water pool in her mouth, bathing her tongue before she swallowed it. The acolyte’s head lifted slightly. Was she watching? That was something else to discuss with the High Cleric. Apparently this meddlesome girl needed more training, perhaps with a leather strap to her back.
The acolyte offered a cup of water to her three women battlers in turn, who obediently took their sacrament. When it was offered to Adro, he raised his hands as if to refuse. Feanna gave him a pointed look that communicated her expectation that he would drink the damned water or suffer her displeasure. He pressed his lips together in silent acquiescence and took the cup.
There, she thought with satisfaction. That randy bastard was in sore need of cleansing. In fact, she would start taking him to temple with her once they got home, even if she had to drag him by the callibisters.
Chapter 45
Standing on the dais in the Temple of the Savior Asti-nayas, Adro’s knees quaked. He’d committed sins for which he could never atone, though he dedicated his life to the task. Entering a house of worship felt like the god was shining a beam of light directly on him, announcing to everyone in attendance what terrible things he’d done before he’d been branded. Now his queen was making him take the sacrament, receive water blessed by the god Himself into his body to cleanse his soul.
He knew he should be grateful to her for sharing a ritual with him that had so much meaning in her life, but she didn’t understand. He wasn’t a good man. He’d never been a good man. Only the brand on one forearm and the threat of receiving another — or worse, being put to death — kept him honest. Adro hadn’t become a warrant knight to save people; he’d done it to save himself.
She glared at him under a lowered brow, demanding silently that he drink. He didn’t want to disappoint or upset her. Far from it. She was the kindest, most moral and selfless person he’d ever met, and he wanted her to look upon him with trust and admiration the way she did Gavin and Daia and even Tennara. Her eyes grew more intense with every passing moment, as though she could change him with merely her will. Perhaps she could.
He raised the cup to his lips and sipped the water. It had a mildly salty taste, barely noticeable. He drained the cup, afraid to look at the statue towering above him for fear he’d see disgust etched in the marble features. The acolyte was watching him as intently as Feanna was, as if they both expected him to be struck down by Asti-nayas or choke on the god’s blessing as it went down his throat.
Nothing happened. Nothing someone might observe, that was. An excitement stirred within him, not the sort he got in the brothels, but more complete. It rippled through his body and mind, igniting thoughts he’d long suppressed, ideas that, executed poorly, had earned the brand on his arm. Why would Asti-nayas awaken these thoughts unless He wanted Adro to act on them?
Feanna smiled at him with dancing eyes. She looked eager to tell him something, but the temple wasn’t the right place. Picking up her skirts, she went down the steps, and he followed, tossing a look back at the acolyte who no longer stood with head bowed. She watched them from beneath her veil.
The other battlers accompanied them up the aisle and out into the brilliant day. Adro shielded his eyes with one hand, squinting.
At once, the gathered citizens began calling their greetings, waving and cheering the queen. She turned in a slow circle, smiling at her many admirers and then did something out of character — she curtsied like a stage performer. He saw the surprise on Tennara’s face, who exchanged glances with Lilalian. Adro found it amusing and joined the crowd in its applause, and Anya raised her fist and gave a cry of drunken satisfaction, but when Feanna extended one foot, lifted her skirts and showed her ankle, he lost all remnants of self-control.
“Your Majesty...” Tennara started.
He swept the queen up in his arms and crushed her to him, plunging his tongue deeply into her mouth. Her arms circled his neck, pulling his lips harder against her own. Around them, the noise of the crowd seemed to quiet, but for Anya’s raucous laughter and Mirrah cheering them on. His lust and greed grew even stronger, if that was possible. To hell with the crowd and the battlers screaming at him to stop. To hell with the twice-damned king. Feanna was his now, and he wou
ldn’t give her up. And he would have her here and now.
He started to unlace his trousers with one hand, and moved the other to Feanna’s arse. Hands grasped his arms tightly and yanked them behind his back. When at last the hands managed to pull their bodies apart, Feanna’s eyes were glowing with desire. Looking at him through her lashes, she panted sensuously, bosom heaving. Blood trickled down her chin from where his teeth had torn her lip. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and then licked the blood from her skin.
The gathered citizens around them stood frozen in shock, their mouths agape and eyes wide. Those in front who saw this gasped or whispered to his neighbor.
“My Queen,” Lilalian said. She had a hold of Feanna’s upper arms and turned her towards the waiting coach. “Get inside. Quickly.”
“This isn’t over,” Feanna said, splaying one hand across his chest. She swept past him and climbed into the carriage.
Tennara shoved him up against the side of the carriage. “What in the hell were you thinking?” Her eyes burned with fury, and her hand touched the hilt of her sword as if she were considering using it.
Adro gave her a lopsided grin. He probably shouldn’t have done that, not in public, but Feanna had wanted it as much as he did. He knew it. Tonight, he would finish what he started.
Chapter 46
While Feanna was inside doing her religious thing, Gavin moved through the crowd, passing both Calinor and Brawna at least twice. They spotted him and seemed not to know him at first, but on the second pass, Calinor looked at him uncertainly, while Brawna’s eyes glittered knowingly at him and then looked away. Only his height would have given him away, and it didn’t seem anyone, including his wife, suspected him of being anyone other than a burly redheaded battler.
