There was no getting away from the fact that he scared her, but he also angered her. It was extremely rare for Serwren to lose her temper. So often her safety had depended on remaining calm and measured, or at least appearing unaffected, but Jorrell had made her want to scream and shout and stamp her feet with his unreasonable behaviour.
How dare he judge her? He’d jumped to conclusions again. Serwren had no idea how Jorrell managed to objectively evaluate and assimilate complex military information, but he must have owned the talent to be as respected as he was. It seemed that he lost that ability when he was near her. She refused to be ashamed for the way in which she had achieved safety for her and for Ulli. She’d had no one to protect her, and she had suffered for that. Now she had built something of a place of safety, although she was ever aware of how precarious such a thing could be.
Looking at the man who had once been the boy she had loved, whom she still loved, despite the changes that the years had wrought on both of them, Serwren felt as though a great chasm had cracked open inside her, swallowing everything that she was, every last morsel of her soul. When she looked at him, she was seventeen again, crouched in the window casement, utterly alone, watching him sail far away, forever.
Thankfully, Erkas was coming to the end of his monologue about the wonder that was Felthiss. There was some shuffling, a few attempts at business, but most people had been bored out of their minds for the time that Erkas had been proclaiming and now they simply wanted to leave and get back to their homes and businesses. Serwren knew that her work was soon to begin.
She had eschewed the idea of welcoming her visitors in the palace itself. It was far too likely that Erkas would stumble across her dealings, and if he thought that she was undermining his power and authority, it would go very badly for her. She had also decided against allowing anyone to visit her at Seddrill’s home. That would be even more of an insult in Erkas' eyes, and it was a little too personal, a little too much of an invasion of her precious privacy.
She had settled for walking around the streets of Thrissia and allowing people to come up to her as and when they would. To all intents and purposes, she looked to be another rich woman on a shopping spree for baubles and knick-knacks. In reality, she was often so much in demand that she only got to pass cursory glances over the goods. As much as she was exposed, in a place where anyone could listen to her conversations, the hubbub of the market made it difficult for a spy to deliberately overhear her. And in this way, should Erkas or one of his cronies approach, her supplicants would blend into the crowd and become unnoticeable.
Serwren waited for the room to empty enough for her to pick her way down the tiers. She spoke some cursory greetings, but the people that she would have been friendly with would soon be speaking to her at greater length, and those that she did not want to be friendly with did not deserve much of an effort on her part, only as much as was polite.
Seddrill had come to her side, part of the elaborate act that they were performing. She knew he was going to slide his arm around her waist, and that he would bend to kiss the top of her head. But even though these were oft-repeated steps in their dance, Serwren took a deep breath to prepare herself for the sensation of being touched, so that she could relax and appear as though she welcomed it.
There was no way that she could avoid speaking to the Generals. The reception in the ballroom had been crowded and boisterous, but now, at least to be polite, she would have to allow Seddrill to introduce her whilst everyone exchanged pleasantries.
She looked up as Erkas clapped and called for some of the servants. He had apparently decided that another, more informal, celebration was required. Jugs and goblets of some of the better vintages from the palace cellars were being passed around by several maids. Initially, Serwren declined a drink. It was early in the day as far as she was concerned, and she wanted to keep a clear head to conduct her business. Erkas was playing the expansive host as he always did and was pressing everyone to take some refreshment. Eventually she gave in and took one of the goblets. She took several sips, finding it to be one of the more considerably aged wines, and that seemed to appease Erkas.
Curious as to whether the crowd, which was mostly male, would be less restrained, she watched to see who else was partaking. Several were; Vassant, showing as much decorum as had imbued his brother, was commenting loudly on the ripe flavours of the wine and grabbing at a full jug from a passing maid. The other Generals appeared to be capable of more temperance; they were holding goblets, but like her, they were doing no more than pretending to drink, she thought. She watched Erkas, and saw that Erkas was watching everyone else. As much as Erkas was agreeing loudly with Vassant about the properties of the wine, he wasn’t drinking all that much himself.
Seddrill caught Serwren's attention and guided her in the direction of General Hitaal first. As they had left the reception the night before earlier than planned, she hadn’t had a chance to partake in formal introductions. She knew the General from the time he’d spent in her father’s company before she’d been married. It was obvious that Hitaal and Jorrell were friendly. He appeared to be pleased to see her and remarked on her health and beauty, standard platitudes as far as Serwren was concerned. They were neither strangers, nor friends.
General Vassant gave the impression that he would have leered over her if Seddrill hadn’t been stationed by her side. She wondered what snippets of information Bornsig had shared with his brother, and if perhaps her husband hadn’t exaggerated his good fortune in gaining a wife so much younger than himself.
Seddrill introduced her to General Makesh next. At first, she found it difficult to define why she didn’t feel comfortable with General Makesh, but then Serwren realised it was because the General was not entirely comfortable in his surroundings, and he was not the sort of person who could appear personable unless he felt at ease. He appeared to be more friendly with Vassant than anyone, and yet Makesh did not quite fit the mould of one of the pompous sycophants. She wondered, hoped, he was more decisive on the battlefield than he appeared here in the city.
It seemed that whichever way she turned, Jorrell managed to find someone to speak to that necessitated turning his back to her, or being on the other side of the room. He wasn’t acting so obviously that everyone would be able to see it, but she knew that he was avoiding her. That he couldn’t face her made her angry. As far as she was concerned, he was in the wrong. He’d blamed her for everything that she hadn’t been able to avoid, everything that had been beyond her control. He had no right to act like such a spoiled child. Ulli had better manners.
Serwren found it odd that there was another man with them, a man that Hitaal introduced as Commander Cael. It was odd because there were many commanders in the army. She wasn’t sure why this one had been singled out to attend the Forum with the Generals. She wondered if perhaps he would soon be promoted.
Someone claimed Seddrill’s attention as Hitaal as making the introductions on behalf of Commander Cael. Although Serwren was uncomfortable with the mocking light in the commander’s green eyes, she was determined not to show it. She pulled an aura of authority and entitlement close around her. This was her home. She refused to be made to feel inferior in it by a complete stranger.
Having exchanged their names, Hitaal found his attention claimed by some essential matter that Vassant wished to discuss.
Commander Cael’s eyes were startlingly bright and direct. They seemed to see straight through her, past the shield of her attitude.
“So, you’re the one.”
“Excuse me?” Serwren looked about her, but the commander could only be talking to her; they were alone in the midst of the crowd.
The mocking glint in his eyes swept down to his mouth and transformed into an outright grin. He looked her over from head to toe. Serwren’s indignation rose; she was not a horse to be inspected. Her burgeoning outrage must have shown on her face, because the commander had the affront to chuckle at her. “I can see why he’s so t
wisted up. Give him time, though. He’s a fucking stubborn one, but we’ll straighten him out.”
The commander could only be talking about one person. He was obviously linked to Jorrell somehow. Serwren felt as though she’d been stripped bare in the middle of the room; it was not a pleasant thing to have such a private matter be discussed so carelessly. She lifted her chin and shored up her defences.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course, m’lady.”
The commander tipped his head to her, and his eyes twinkled all the more. He wasn’t fooled for a moment, and something in his direct, unapologetic behaviour caused an answering smile to form on Serwren’s lips. She had a great appreciation for people that did not hide their allegiances or motivations.
“I suppose you’ll be staying in the city as long as General Jorrell does?”
“Of course, and then we’ll head out to fight your brother’s glory war.”
“Be careful, commander. The palace walls have ears.”
“Noted, m’lady.”
“Serwren, please. Call me Serwren.”
“Only if you promise to let our mutual friend try to explain himself. I’ll make sure that he’s in a better temper.”
“I doubt anyone can alter his mind once it’s set.”
“Only a handful of people have that power... Serwren.”
“And you’re one of that handful?”
“Yea gods, no.” The commander laughed. “He barely listens to me at all.”
Serwren had begun to enjoy their little private conversation and was about to take the opportunity to pry a little into Jorrell’s history while he’d been absent from Felthiss. She had the feeling that the commander could be a font of useful information and observations, but her plans were interrupted by the awful bark of someone retching.
Vassant was choking and coughing. Serwren could feel panic begin to swell in the room and the insipient chaos made her dizzy... or was it the mood in the room...? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself when she swayed. There was more coughing; Rekseth was bent double, clutching his stomach. Vassant vomited extensively right onto the stone floor of the Forum. It seemed to go on forever. He fell heavily to his hands and knees with the effort. Once he was done expelling bile, he began to choke up blood. The General was struggling to catch his breath; his face was turning purple with the effort to breathe. Vassant uttered a strangled yell, then his purple face turned blue around the lips and he pitched forward into the puddle of gory vomit.
Rekseth seemed to be doomed to the same fate, but Erkas was there with water that Serwren hadn’t heard him calling for, and was forcing the consul to drink the fresh liquid. Makesh was not to the point of vomiting, but he had fallen to the floor and was clutching his midsection, and moaning as if wracked by vicious spasms.
Serwren was lightheaded and too confused to keep track of everyone. She squeaked when a fist knocked her goblet out of her hand, spattering the blood red liquid onto the hard floor with a splash and a metallic clatter. She looked at the invading hand and up the arm it was attached to. Jorrell was staring at her, his brows creased with concern.
“We need to get you out of here.”
She felt a touch on her other arm, Seddrill was at her other side, his face was equally full of worry. Serwren swayed again as she whipped her head between the two men, both much taller than she. She felt herself swoon, but before she could lose her footing, Jorrell had caught her in his arms and was lifting her, as if she weighed no more than the silken scarf that had fallen from her shoulders. Seddrill caught the material before it landed in the staining fluid that was leaching into the grooves between the flags.
Jorrell turned and stalked from the room. As long as his strides were, Seddrill kept pace easily. “Come, follow me.”
Jorrell didn’t look at all happy, in fact, Serwren thought fury was the most apt description for his expression, but he didn’t argue with Seddrill, just followed him. Serwren closed her eyes, too tired and too sick from the motion to keep them open. She cracked her lids when Jorrell stopped walking. She recognised this part of the palace. They were outside her childhood room, and Seddrill was opening the door.
Serwren hadn’t been inside the room since she’d left for her wedding ceremony. When she’d moved back to the palace for that brief period after her father’s death she’d had a different suite of rooms, one that Ulli could share with her. All her belongings from her youth had been packed up and put away. The drapes had been pulled down, and the bed was naked of its covers, but there was no dust. The room had been being regularly cleaned.
Jorrell strode straight to the bed and laid her on the exposed mattress. She felt too strange to fully appreciate the contact that had just ended, although she registered that it should have been momentous. For the moment, she was simply happy to be lying still and quiet
The commander, the one with the laughing green eyes, was pushing Seddrill away. He had a jug of something and was lifting it to Serwren’s lips. Jorrell propped her up, she was limp against the strong arm behind her shoulders. She drank what Cael offered, too disorientated to resist. It was water, a crystal, quenching, cool elixir. Serwren drank greedily, but the commander pulled the jug away before she’d slaked her raging thirst.
“Not too much, Serwren, or you’ll make yourself ill,” he murmured.
Jorrell shot his friend a poisonous look, and then put a rough and callused palm to her forehead. She could feel from Jorrell’s touch that she was clammy, but the water was coursing through her and already she felt a little better, a little clearer.
Seddrill had taken up a station at the end of the bed. Serwren felt suddenly breathless again at the thought of being surrounded, penned in, so she closed her eyes. She felt Jorrell’s warm, dry palm against her face again, a faint tremor matched the rage in his voice when he spoke.
“So, Vuthron strikes first.”
Serwren didn’t open her eyes, but there was no doubt that Jorrell’s anger was directed at Seddrill. Seddrill’s ever-present calm seemed to have deserted him. The potential for trouble that swirled in the room, directly over her, made her nauseous all over again, but she felt too weak to stand between the two clashing bulls.
“I didn’t poison the wine. But if my king had commanded me to, I would have.”
“Your king plays with innocent lives.”
Jorrell’s palm moved briefly and from the draught Serwren could tell he was motioning at her.
“And Erkas doesn’t? How many innocent Vuthroans will die in this war?”
“At least as many innocent Felthissian soldiers will die for the whim of a mad man. You know the scale of this folly as well as I.”
“Gentlemen...” That was the commander’s voice. Even here and now, Serwren could hear the thread of amusement in it. She wondered if he was ever wholly serious about any matter. “I believe we’re on the same side. No one in this room wants this fucking idiocy to go ahead.”
“He told Kavrazel about the invasion.”
Cael and Seddrill spoke at the same time, but Seddrill continued:
“Of course he did.”
“Of course I did. I was hoping we could avoid all this.”
“Well, that worked out well.” Serwren fought not to grin at the commander’s dry utterance.
Jorrell’s voice came again. “If not you, then another spy. Kavrazel knew the heads of the army would be in one place. He must have been planning to kill us all. With no one to lead the army, there would be no war.”
“It’s a reasonable enough course of action.” Serwren thought she heard the shrug in Seddrill’s answer. There was no good way for this conversation to end, but she couldn’t summon the energy to intervene, and it felt somehow necessary to allow it to run its course.
“You’re a cold-hearted bastard.”
“No, only a practical one.”
“Did anyone see what happened to Erkas?” the commander asked, interrupting the a
rgument.
Seddrill answered him. “He barely drank any of the wine. I believe Serwren is only so affected because she’s so much more slight than we are.”
Did Jorrell growl? “And because you’re all the stronger for drinking her blood.”
Those words were ground out through a jealous fury that Jorrell had no right to. Serwren had a real concern that a fight was about to break out in the room, until the commander diffused the stifling tension again.
“It’s amazing, considering how well you attract injury, that you’re not vomiting your fucking guts up, too.”
Yes, Jorrell definitely growled, but this time at the commander, Cael.
There was a brief lull as the men seemed to be thinking. Jorrell interrupted it first. He appeared to have controlled his anger; his voice was tight, but thoughtful. “If you did not do this, you need to leave. They’ll come for you. They won’t listen to your protestations of innocence. They’ll put your head on a pike before you can speak a word. Erkas will come for you. He’ll come for you to get to Serwren.”
Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1) Page 28
