Aniska gasped when he pinched one nipple and then other. Sitting up, she pulled her tunic off over her head then went to work on his. She ran her hands over his chest as he kissed her neck and collarbone. One hand traced a line along her chin and she shivered.
After shucking his boots, Zaraki went to work ridding himself and Aniska of their trousers. Finally, they were naked together and enjoyed a moment of just looking at each other’s bodies. Both were lean and muscular from years of training.
Zaraki loved women and never struggled to find a willing partner. His first lover had been a woman whose merchant husband traveled frequently. She loved him but loved sex as well. If Zaraki promised never to tell, she promised to teach him the sort of secrets boys dreamt of, and he excelled at his lessons. Now he put those skills to good use on Aniska’s behalf.
Afterwards, they lay next to each other panting, bodies covered in sweat. “Shit. What does this mean? Friends? More than friends?” Ani asked when she got her breath back.
“Friends?” Neither of them could afford any sort of affair or relationship now.
Aniska nodded and rolled over to rest her head on his shoulder. “That’s great. It means we can do this again.”
The next day, Zaraki flipped a coin and went to see Jonus to offer his services. The man happily accepted and asked him to dig up information on the hated Liuz across town. Both men had once been friends and business partners. A falling-out several years ago had driven a wedge between them and now Liuz accused Jonus of shorting his bales. Rumors floated that perhaps he even snuck rocks into the bales to increase their weight. Jonus wanted information to use against Liuz.
Zaraki spent nearly a week watching Liuz’s wool barn, observing his men carefully weighing bales for sale. He made notes about times workers arrived and left and when Luiz brought his huge, white dogs in for the night. Finally, he risked sneaking onto the roof of the barn, wanting to find any way in without dealing with the locks on the doors. He hated picking locks.
From the roof, he was able to see into the window of Liuz’s house. There, in the middle of the common area, sat five hairy dogs he kept as pets and guards for his sheep herds. These were only a few of the dogs belonging to the man. Zaraki had seen him bring in several a few days ago and send several more out the next day. Liuz had one dog on the floor and was brushing him furiously, huge drifts of hair being pulled out. A little girl, probably his daughter, was collecting the hair and stuffing it into sacks.
It made Zaraki wonder, and he decided it was worth it to pick a lock to check on his hunch. He went to work with his set of picks. Aniska could have had it open in seconds, but he struggled for a good half a minute. Once he was inside the barn, he looked around and found bags after bags of the straight, white hair stored at the back.
The next morning, he reported to Jonus. “I don’t know much about wool trading. But if you were to mix your wool with hair, from say, a large white dog, you would be shorting your customers, wouldn’t you?”
For a week of work, Jonus happily paid Zaraki more than he asked for. Two gold tira meant they would have rent and food aplenty.
Returning
“My lady, the king sent me to fetch you.”
Leisha looked up and saw Endro stood at her door. Another nephew of Andrzej’s, he held a position as runner and butler to the king and seemed to believe her status as a hostage entitled him to enter her rooms and condescend to her at will.
Usually, Leisha forced herself to smile and accept his treatment. As an underage ward, she would be hard-pressed to force him to extend her too much respect. Today, however, Endro’s tone did not sit well, and she was no longer underage. Two months ago, she turned sixteen. Two months ago, she should have been on her way back to Tahaerin. Legally an adult, a princess, and no longer subject to the hostage contract her father signed, she outranked Endro. “What’s this concerning?” she asked. “I’ve other things to do today.” Her eyes never left the book in her hands, but she felt his anger and outrage.
Endro stared down at her for a moment, not liking this new attitude. “The king summoned you. You don’t question.”
“And I outrank you.” This time she did look up. “I’m not a dog to be fetched. Guard your tongue when you’re speaking to me.”
The young man stared back, enraged, but uncertain how to react. “A messenger has arrived, my lady,” he ground out after a long pause. “I believe it concerns you.”
“Very good then. You’re dismissed,” she said, waving a hand at him. “I’ll attend to this shortly.”
Once he retreated, Leisha rose and called to Marochka to help her dress. The term of her wardship had ended, and someone from Tahaerin should have come for her by now. Surely, this messenger came here about her return. Rumors of her father’s death had swept through Arnost and the castle, but nothing official arrived. Now, perhaps, she would have the truth.
For the meeting, her maid selected a cream-colored gown with red vines racing up from the hemline that swept the ground. Marochka brushed out her long dark, hair and pinned it up in a more formal style.
Leisha tried not to rush as she walked down the hall towards Andrzej’s receiving rooms, but she felt a flutter in her stomach. Finally, to be free of this wretched place and be on her way back to her own kingdom. But first she needed to deal with the matter of her two extra months of captivity.
***
When the girl entered the room, Symon knew her immediately. He saw traces of the child he escorted here all those years ago. Slightly built, with her father’s black hair, she stood shorter than her mother. But her sharp, dark eyes, the raised chin and the way she took the measure of everyone in the room spoke of Shola all over again. Though not a stunning beauty like her mother, Leisha was very pretty. She did not bow to anyone in the room and did not lower her eyes to the men. Symon saw steel in her.
Andrzej rose when she walked in, as did the others in the room. He looked positively giddy. “Leisha,” he said, grinning. “A messenger from Tahaerin has arrived with news for you.”
“Excellent,” the girl said. “Before we discuss that, I’d like you to remind your butler how to address me. I turned sixteen two months ago. I expect to be treated accordingly.”
Symon smoothed his face into an unreadable mask. From the look on the king’s face, he felt sure this was not an unusual occurrence between these two. Leisha meant this to unsettle Andrzej ahead of something else. Her mother had employed the same tactic often.
Andrzej sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “My nephew? Yes, I’ll speak to him. Let’s get on with this.” He gestured at Symon to proceed.
“My lady, I’m Symon, and I was your father’s butler. It pains me to inform you of the death of your father, King Davos Tahaerin,” he said.
Leisha felt them all watching her expectantly. She sat unmoving, unsure what reaction they imagined. Her father never once sent her any letters or anyone to check on her. In fourteen years, he never once concerned himself with her well-being. His death did not affect her.
If Andrzej felt anything over the death of an old enemy, he showed nothing, either. She watched the man, her man, and read sadness woven into his thoughts. She recalled him from the trip here and thought he must be approaching fifty now. If she thought hard enough, she could remember his kind, warm face, and sparkling blue eyes. She could remember missing him when he left her here.
“Yes,” Symon continued when he realized she would not say anything. “Your father has died, as have your mother and two cousins. You’re now the Queen of Tahaerin.”
“I remember you, Symon. Who murdered my family?” she asked.
Symon sat shocked for a moment before gathering himself. Much like her mother, she spoke her mind and used the habit to keep those around her unsettled and on edge. “Several months ago, the king and your cousins died in rough seas when crossing back from their hunting grounds on Svec Island.” He paused, thinking how to tell her Shola had tried to keep the king’s death a secret beca
use it meant the crown passed at once to Leisha, leaving her mother out of power.
“Your mother died, ah, very suddenly. Your uncle, Staval, sent me to escort you back to your lands.”
Leisha heard the omission but kept the frown from her face. She would deal with that bit of information later. “Thank you. Can you please make arrangements for my return to Tahaerin? My host will provide you additional funds for the trip.”
“If you’re leaving here, you’re no longer my concern, Leisha,” the king said, clearly delighted to get rid of his ward.
She turned dark eyes on Andrzej, her voice hard and toneless. “Queen. You’ll address me formally from now on. As I said earlier, I’m two months past my birthday. I’ve read my hostage contract. It sets forth specific fines for any time you keep me past my sixteenth birthday. Pay my man or I’ll have to consider you in breach of a contract signed with my family. That means the terms of the truce were not met.”
Symon attempted to cut in. “Lady, I apologize for the delay. The funerals and arrangements took up—”
“I didn’t hold you here,” the king snapped, ignoring Symon.
“The contract makes no distinction, sadly.” She shook her head and attempted to look pained. “You made no effort to return me, either.”
Symon wanted to disappear into his chair as he watched Andrzej turned red with rage. Shola’s daughter could be just as ruthless and clever as Shola, herself. Though hopefully not as angry or violent.
“Yes, fine,” Andrzej barked. Looking at Symon, he said, “I’ll have someone figure the amount I owe our guest so she may leave here swiftly.”
It turned out the fines for not releasing her immediately were rather high. Symon reflected that Andrzej should have read the contract more recently. If he had, he would no doubt have put Leisha on the first available coach back to Lida. Taking the money into Arnost, Symon secured two additional teams of horses and two fine wagons to bring her things home in. He also bought trunks to pack everything in, as well as hiring two women to accompany them and care for the new queen. Finally, he augmented the meager company of fifteen soldiers Staval sent with an additional twenty. Leisha paid Andrzej for her wardrobe and a few small items, with his own money. She smiled sweetly at him as she counted out the coins.
The next morning, her maids dressed her in a maroon gown with tight sleeves and pulled her hair up so it would not be in her face constantly. Without looking back or wishing anyone farewell, Leisha descended the steps to her carriage. It rumbled out of the gates of the only home she could truly remember.
“My Queen, I need to warn you,” Symon said once the horses started moving. “Your subjects are a pack of dogs. They’ll turn on you and tear you to shreds if you don’t move quickly to dominate them. Your nobles, they war against their monarchs just as the monarchs war against their neighbors. If you wanted to retire to some place more peaceful, no one would blame you. Though you’re Tahaerin, you’re also a foreigner of sorts, and you don’t know all the players.”
When she looked at him, he saw the same set of dark eyes that watched him in the carriage fourteen years ago. “Symon, I was born to be queen. I was raised to understand my duty is to my kingdom. The throne is mine, without question. What else do I need to know?”
He considered how much to tell her now and how much could wait. She needed her own advisors, not the gossip from her father’s butler. “Currently there are twenty-eight noble houses, large and small though the number may dwindle a bit in the coming years. The lords have been shuffling their loyalties behind either your father or your uncle. There might be attrition as a few larger families kill off some smaller ones.”
She turned her head to look out the windows again. “How did my parents really die?” She thought Symon’s explanation in front of Andrzej sounded incomplete.
The man shifted uncomfortably and shied away from the truth in his mind. He hated delivering bad news to Tahaerin monarchs. It so rarely ended well for him. “Highness, it’s a complicated matter.”
“I don’t know them. You won’t offend me with anything you tell me. They never once sent anyone to check on me or wrote to me or anything. They’re just names.”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s widely believed your father was killed when someone pushed him overboard in rough seas. Your two cousins, suspiciously, disappeared overboard during the same storm. The timing is very convenient. Only a few months before your sixteenth birthday when he could have brought you home and planned a marriage for you.”
She snorted. “My father would have been greatly disappointed, then. If he wished to have a compliant daughter who went quietly into an arranged marriage, he should have included it in the hostage contract. Andrzej left that out of my upbringing.”
Symon regarded her but said nothing, remembering the tiny girl he brought here, the one who loved horses and fanciful stories. Saddened to see her replaced with this angry young woman, he wondered what her life in Embriel had been like.
“How did my mother die?” Leisha asked, gazing out at the tree-lined streets of Arnost, hoping she never saw them again.
“Your mother drank poison and took her own life.”
It shocked her, and she twisted back around to frown at him. “Why would she do that?”
Sighing again, Symon said. “Her brother, your uncle Staval, threatened to expose an affair of hers.”
Leisha felt her annoyance rise as the man released his grip on details. “And who was he accusing her of having an affair with?”
She saw him swallow and a pained expression crossed his face. “Ah, with himself. So, incest and adultery. He told a few people he was your father.”
“Fascinating,” she said, scrubbing her hands over her face. “Is it true?” If it was, it meant trouble for her. She would be out of the line of succession, as only Davos’s child could inherit. Not that it would stop her from taking the throne anyway.
“No, I don’t believe so,” Symon replied. “I don’t think Staval was with your mother at the time of your conception. If they had a physical relationship, it didn’t result in your birth. But your mother was always very emotional. She was infuriated with him and despondent you would be returning to take the throne from her.”
“Still a bitch,” Leisha muttered under her breath. She found the tidbit of gossip interesting at least, and information was power.
“Will you investigate your father’s death?” Symon asked after a time.
“If I found one of my nobles was responsible, would I have the power and support to detain him?” she asked, even though the answer seemed obvious. Right now, she had no power.
Leisha regretted being so flippant when she saw a flash of pain on Symon’s face. He obviously cared for her father and he was one of her people now. She owed him better. “I promise, if it’s ever in my power to punish his killer, I’ll do it,” she said. As the carriage rolled through the cobbled streets, she reminded herself it bore her away from Embriel and all the hateful maids and spoiled royal children she grew up with.
***
The tiny procession of wagons, carriages, and soldiers for hire crossed the Vinca River without incident after two weeks of travel. “Now we’re in Tahaerin, Highness. Welcome home,” Symon said with a hint of both amusement and gravitas in his voice. “Specifically, this is the Tymek Plain, your uncle’s land.”
“How much of a problem is he going to be for me?” Leisha asked, looking out the windows at the mountains beginning to take shape ahead of them.
“He’s a greedy, ambitious and dangerous man. I think he’ll be your first obstacle if you wish to have any independence.”
She jerked her head about to face him. “I’m no one’s pawn, Symon. These are my lands and I’ll rule them in spite of, not because of anything my uncle has to say on the matter.”
Since the disastrous invasion of Embriel, Staval had gathered the Tahaerin nobles to him. At the time of his death, Davos could count his allies on a single hand. Symon
wondered if it was his job to try and talk a sixteen-year-old girl out of her headlong rush towards disaster.
A few days later, they began their climb into the Violet Mountains and Leisha found she could barely contain her excitement. Andrzej never once allowed her to leave the castle, much less Arnost. She read about snow-covered mountains in books and now they loomed just in front of her, unspeakably lovely. Great, craggy peaks reached into a brilliant, blue sky. She could see where snowmelt turned into waterfalls and cascaded down in places.
Symon smiled, seeing a hint of childish delight on her otherwise placid, shuttered face. “Highness, do you remember crossing these when you were small?”
“Vaguely, yes.”
“We’ll follow this road up a bit higher and then it will flatten out as we enter steep-sided valleys. At this time of year, the mountains will have a fair bit of snow, but we’re low enough not to feel the cold too much. It’s a shame we’re so early. In a month, flowers will fill these valleys with a rainbow of colors. We’re only a short distance from Lida now.”
“Are you Staval’s man or mine?”
The question came from nowhere and rattled Symon for several seconds before he regained his composure. Memories of the fights between Davos and Staval and Shola popped into his mind, along with his anger at Staval for the way he treated the king year after year. He coughed. “I’m not Staval’s man, Highness. I’m happy to serve you while you need me though I don’t know what need you’ll have for a butler once we arrive.”
The air churned with thoughts of anger and loathing. Symon hated her uncle. Satisfied, Leisha nodded and turned back to look out the window. The easiest way she had found to read someone’s mind was to ask questions to elicit an emotional response. A person might say one thing, but their memories often betrayed what they tried to hide. It was not foolproof, and someone skillful enough could deceive her. Her nannies had learned to do it on occasion, which irritated her to no end. But an unexpected question often surprised the other person and got the reaction she wanted.
A Gift Freely Given (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 1) Page 8
