The Traitor's Daughter

by Claire Robyns

  “I’ll leave the logistics in your capable hands, then,” I told them, my tone dismissing them but my smile genuine. I didn’t need their vote of confidence, but I did welcome their guidance and council. Any day we were all in agreement was a good day.

  No one stood.

  “The King will retaliate,” Lennard said. “If we succeed in shutting down the dam, he’ll find another way to obtain his goal. This is the beginning, not the end.”

  I sighed. “Is this the conversation we weren’t going to have today?”

  “You turned twenty-one last week,” he said, ignoring the jab.

  I shrugged. “The occasion didn’t pass without my notice.”

  “It’s your duty to marry and produce an heir.”

  I nearly choked on the swallow of ale I’d just sipped. There’d been pressing hints before, but never anything this blunt. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  Lennard placed his hands on the table with visible restraint. “The time for consideration has come and gone.”

  “Don’t you think we have enough real problems to deal with?”

  “The instability we face now makes it even more imperative that you secure the line of succession.”

  I cocked a brow at him. “Right this minute?”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “For goodness sake, Lennard, you sound like you’re about to shove some poor man down my throat.” A terrible thought struck me. “Please tell me you don’t have a candidate waiting in the wings!”

  “Of course not,” he muttered irritably. “This choice is yours, but you must choose.”

  I shot to my feet.

  All three men stood with me, although two of them were definitely not with me.

  Jarvis’ expression was blank, his tone neutral, but there was nothing unbiased about his position as he said, “This is a matter of grave concern for all of us.”

  “It seems you’ve discussed this amongst yourselves at great length.” I gave a dry laugh as I looked to Markus for support.

  He met my gaze straight-on and he wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t the least bit amused. He wasn’t appalled either. I looked into his serious brown eyes and felt the weight settle on my shoulders. This wasn’t news to him. He’d been privy to these discussions. Hell, maybe he’d even participated.

  I waved a hand across the lot of them. “Leave me.”

  Lennard’s jaw strained. Jarvis merely inclined his head respectfully. They turned to go without a word. I seldom pulled rank, but I was still the High Chancellor and they didn’t dare defy me.

  Not openly.

  God knew what plots they’d hatch behind closed doors.

  These men had betrayed their King, after all.

  “Markus,” I snapped, stopping him before he ducked out beneath the tapestry. “Stay.”

  He paused a long moment, his back to me. We both knew I’d do nothing if he decided to bolt instead of stay.

  “Please,” I added.

  He relented, turned to me. “Do you really want to do this now?”

  “Apparently time is of the essence.” My tone dripped with scorn and he didn’t miss it.

  “Rose…” He came forward. “You may not want this to be so, but it is. God forbid anything happen to you, but if it did—”

  “I’ve already named my successor, Markus. It’s documented and signed, securely stashed in the crevice beneath my bed in case you ever need to find it.”

  He walked on past me, crossed to the chest that held the good stuff and came up with a bottle of aged whiskey and two glass tumblers.

  I watched him pour two healthy measures and set the bottle down on the table. “Aren’t you curious as to whom it is?”

  He turned a chair around and straddled it, one elbow resting on the high back as he raised his glass. “It’s me, right?”

  “That’s what I always liked about you.” I reached for the other glass and perched on the table beside him. “You don’t possess a single humble bone.”

  He gave a shake of his head, tipped the glass back, draining the amber liquid.

  “That was a joke.”

  “I know, Rose.”

  I took a small sip, relishing the burn that hit my throat and coated my blood. “I have no plans to die anytime soon,” I said lightly. “You don’t have to sound so gloomy at the thought of succeeding me.”

  “You can sign as many documents as you damn well please, but that doesn’t give you a successor.” His gaze met mine. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “We’re no longer resident at court,” I reminded him. “We’re not bound by the King’s law. This works however we want to make it work.”

  “The rules of succession are not the King’s law, they’re written in the land.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means it cannot be undone, not by the King’s decree, not by your word.” Markus refilled his glass as he spoke. “You know the story.”

  I gave a bitter laugh. “I know two men discovered this haven a hundred and fifty years ago and brought a chosen few along to share. They established themselves as rulers—”

  “King and High Chancellor.” Markus tipped his glass at me. “Joint rulers to balance the power.”

  “What balance?” I snorted. “The old King imprisoned my mother under false accusations of treason without any proof. She died in that tower.”

  “Devon killed him for it.”

  I slammed my glass on the table. “Yes, my father killed him for it. And then he had to flee for his life!”

  “I don’t know how that happened or why, or what even really happened, Rose. The only people who do know are dead.” He covered my hand with his, looked into my eyes. “But the law still stands.”

  Which reminded me of the point I’d been making. “That law isn’t carved into the earth by the blood of God, Markus. It was written by mere men and look at what men are capable of. “

  “It doesn’t matter,” Markus said. “The law stands and yes, I could succeed you and lead our people, but I can never be High Chancellor.”

  “Who cares?” I slipped my hand from beneath his and grabbed my glass, taking a deep sip for fortitude. “For God’s sake, it’s only a title and titles mean nothing out here.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Rose.” He folded his arms on the back of the chair and stabbed me with a pointed look. “You are leader because of that title.”

  “If I die without an heir, the title dies with me. Would that be so bad?”

  “If you die without an heir, Rose, the kingdom falls.”

  I refrained from rolling my eyes again. “That’s just a political myth to sustain that myth about any balance of power. You see where I’m going with this, Markus? Lies built on top of lies.”

  “Not lies,” he said. “Every society is built upon the foundation of some fundamental belief, and the bloodline of the High Chancellor is ours.”

  “So we’re going with blind faith here?” I mocked. “Just believe what we’re taught to believe and shut up.”

  “Not blind faith, Rose.” He scowled at me. “Not knowing or understanding the facts doesn’t make them untrue.”

  “So now I’m a fact.”

  “Here’s something you don’t know,” he shot back. “If the King dies without an heir, you lay claim to his throne. If you die without an heir, the bloodline of the High Chancellor dies with you. How’s that for fact? When the first High Chancellor and the first King wrote that into the law, they knew something we don’t. That’s good enough for me, and for everyone else in this kingdom.”

  I stared at him, stunned. “How could I not know this?”

  “Devon had no intention of eliminating the boy King and he never meant to return to the castle.”

  “So that information was irrelevant,” I mumbled. Oh, Father. “The past cannot be undone and we must live in the now.” I glanced at Markus. “Who else knows this law?”

  “Few,” he answered. “The situation
has never arisen.”

  “My father told you?”

  “Devon never meant to hide things from you.”

  Sure he did. I knew my father’s ways well enough. “Jarvis and Lennard?”

  “They’ve always known,” Markus said. “Men like that follow power before belief. They would never have aligned themselves with your father without his potential claim to the throne. They gave up their positions at court to follow the High Chancellor, not to follow a man.”

  “And if they don’t have me—”

  “They have nothing,” Markus finished. He sipped on his whiskey, watching me. “Now do you understand why your successor must be of your own blood?”

  “Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Jarvis and Lennard are not men to be taken lightly.”

  “They have people here who trust them impeccably,” Markus said, “and they still have a small network of contacts at the castle.”

  “For all the good their spies do us,” I muttered.

  “Do not automatically dismiss their loyalty. They have already betrayed the King. If they betray you, they have nowhere else to turn. It is in their best interests to ensure you remain a strong leader.”

  “At any cost.” Snippets of the earlier conversation came back to me. Had I totally misunderstood what we’d been talking about? “When Lennard spoke about winning by any means available, he didn’t…” I sat up straight and turned to face Markus. “He wasn’t talking about assassinating Nathanial, was he?”

  “They don’t take me into their confidence,” he said, “but yes, I imagine that’s exactly what they meant.”

  I pushed off from the table, looked down on him. “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “And you are?” Markus cocked a brow at me. “You don’t seriously think Jarvis and Lennard would be content to live forever in these caves?”

  “What about you, Markus?” I said softly.

  “Me?” He grinned. “I’ve grown quite fond of this life.”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Would I play part in an assassination?” He sipped on his whiskey. “I would never have hurt the boy King, but Nathanial is a grown man now. If he wants to provoke us, if he poses a direct threat to you, I won’t hesitate to take him out.”

  A sourness churned in my stomach. I had no idea why. How many times hadn’t I made that same vow to myself, hadn’t I wished I’d killed Nathanial when I’d had the chance?

  I spun away from the table, suddenly needing to move.

  “Don’t tell me you have sympathy for the King.” A hardness crept into Markus’s voice. “After all that bastard has done.”

  “Of course not.” My hands curled into fists at my side as I paced.

  “Then what is it?” he said.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “About?”

  I didn’t want Nathanial dead, but I wished I’d killed him. I didn’t want to be Queen, but how long would we survive if Nathanial wasn’t displaced? I didn’t want to marry, but apparently I needed more than a successor. I needed a blood heir.

  I stopped walking, threw my hands up. “Who on earth am I supposed to marry? You may not have noticed, but there’s not exactly an abundance of eligible men here. And by eligible, I mean single and not old enough to be my father.”

  “What about Jamison?”

  “Jamison?” I laughed, although it was not without affection. I’d been fifteen, Jamison a year older. He’d been cute, charming and always made me smile. We’d been sneaking kisses for a couple of weeks when my father caught us behind a keg of ale. I’d never seen him so mad. He’d threatened Jamison with the kind of things that had made both of us blush to the ears. After that, Jamison had avoided me like a cough plague. It was years before he even dared look me in the eye.

  “Okay,” Markus relented. “Jamison may be a little timid for the job.”

  I closed the distance between us with a slow stride. “So now I’m a job?”

  “You know what I mean,” Markus said, unfazed by my scowling advance. “You need someone who can stand up to you.”

  “I need someone who can stand beside me.” I leant against the table and stretched my legs out. My gaze slid to Markus and without conscious intent, I found myself studying his handsome face, the fine creases at his eyes. He was just shy of thirty, but despite the age gap of nearly ten years, he was the closest thing I had to a friend.

  “Markus,” I said thoughtfully, “have you ever been in love?”

  His humour faded. “I’m not in the habit of discussing my personal life.”

  “Ah, your personal life is sacred but I’m expected to marry—a practical stranger for all anyone cares—and take him into my bed.”

  Markus narrowed his eyes on me, then he rocked forward to reach for the bottle. “Fair enough.” He poured another measure of whiskey into both glasses and nudged one toward me. “It was a long time ago.”

  I cradled the glass in my hands and lifted it to my lips. “Did you love her very much?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  My nose wrinkled. “How can you not be sure?”

  Markus shoved a hand through his hair. “I left her behind.”

  “Oh.” I swirled the liquid in my glass, then drained it in one gulp. The heat lined my stomach and I welcomed the extra courage. I’d probably need it before this night was over. “She didn’t want to come with you?”

  “That was never an option. We didn’t exactly make our intentions known beforehand and we fled in the dark of the night.”

  “But you never sent word to her, asking her to run away and join you?”

  “She enjoys the finer things in life.” He knocked his drink back on a grimace and set the glass down. “She wouldn’t have fared well here.”

  “Did you ever regret leaving her behind? Or maybe not staying there with her?”

  “What’s with all the questions?” He studied me for a long moment, finally drawing the right conclusion. “Rose, I won’t marry you.”

  The rejection slammed me in the chest, although not for any of the usual reasons. This wasn’t a love affair gone wrong, it was a partnership bound by responsibility and duty and Markus had just bailed on me. “I guess you have the luxury of following your heart.”

  “I gave that choice up once before,” he reminded me in a steely voice, “and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. All I’m saying is that there’s no rush.”

  “That’s not the impression you gave when you railroaded me just now with Jarvis and Lennard.”

  “I agree with them that you should start thinking about marriage and an heir,” Markus said. “I also think you have time to let the idea sink in and consider all your options.” His lips twitched, lightening the moment. “Ask me again in a year, if you really can’t find anyone else to take you off my hands.”

  “You can be a smug bastard sometimes, you know that, right?”

  His grin broke through. “All part of my charm.”

  - 4 -

  The nightmare came to me three nights in a row. It usually did when I was troubled, and I’d been extremely troubled of late.

  I was eleven years old again. It had been two days since we’d fled to these mountains and Nate…no, he was King Nathanial now, had sent a force of men to hunt us down. I was huddled in the deepest cave with the rest of the women and children.

  It was dark and damp and smelled like rotted beast.

  I hated it here.

  I hated everything about this place.

  I hated why we’d had to come here. My mother was dead. I’d watched the King’s guard drag her from our chambers more than a month ago and I hadn’t been allowed to see her since. Now I never would again.

  Tears stung my eyes and I quickly wiped them with my sleeve. Not that anyone would see. It was so dark here, the air heavy and pressing down on my chest, tightening my throat. Father had killed the King and now Nate hunted us down like wild animals to avenge his father. It was all so wrong. Everything turned about
in the blink of an eye.

  Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I needed to get out of here. I needed air.

  I inched farther from the huddle.

  No one seemed to notice.

  Another inch, another inch, and then I crawled into the tunnel and sprang to my feet and darted through the tunnels, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness but there was no one here to hear. I slid around a corner, not sure of my way but I kept running and running and finally found myself in the enormous cavern with ice swords stabbing down from the ceiling and rising from the ground. I slowed my pace. The voices, the sharp calls and the curses and the grunts of battle reached for me from the outside as I crept toward the yawning entrance. My heart thudded as I peered around the jagged stone wall, blinking into the harsh sunlight.

  The ledge at the entrance was too wide for me to see what was happening directly below. All the activity seemed to come from my right. The whistle of arrows flying. The curdling scream of a man. I flinched, but I couldn’t bring myself to return to the pressing darkness. I wasn’t that afraid. My father was larger than life, larger than any army. It seemed unimaginable that he wouldn’t drive the King’s men back, keep us safe. I saw him, Father, calling up and when my eyes followed, I saw two archers tucked into a crevice, notching their arrows, taking aim.

  My face screwed up and I slunk away in the opposite direction. The walkway narrowed, not more than two feet wide before the ground fell away into a sheer drop. I flattened myself to the craggy cliff wall that rose at my back and shuffled along the walkway that curved with the mountain and then opened up into a grassy path with more space.

  I walked faster, one foot tripping over the other in my haste to get away, to just keep walking until I left everything behind and then maybe none of this would be real. Maybe I’d awaken in my down-feather bed and my mother would be sitting at my side, smoothing my brow with her gentle touch, hushing me in her warm voice to go back to sleep, it was just a bad dream.

  But it wasn’t.