***
“Beyla, a very hot bath,” Leisha sighed, walking into her bedrooms. “And send for Zaraki and Symon. I’ll meet with them as soon as I’m out of the bath and dressed.”
“Yes, Highness. Let me help you undress, too.” Her maid reached out to begin undoing the fastenings.
“Just the top buttons. I can manage this myself tonight. I’ll leave my hair up until bed.”
Once Beyla finished filling her tub with steaming water, Leisha peeled off the riding habit. She did not want anyone seeing what she knew lay under her clothes. In the long mirror in front of her, she looked at the angry black and purple bruises on her thighs and stomach from the pommels of her saddle. They hurt. She hurt, but she would not let it show. Assuming Zaraki found someone to punish, she would delight in ordering similar wounds be inflicted on them.
Leisha climbed into the tub and sank down. The hot water scalded her skin, but the stiffness in her joints ebbed away. As the heat invaded her body, she let herself relax and her mind wandered back to the rearing horse. Remembering the moment she realized the man meant to lash her stallion, the terror as she clung to the animal’s back, she put her face in her hands. “I wish I had someone to tell me it was all right,” she said aloud. For a rare moment, she felt true loneliness, but she would not give in and cry.
An hour later, dressed in a simple gown with a robe thrown over it, she emerged into her receiving room to find Symon and Zaraki waiting for her. Both looked ragged and awful.
“Highness, the groom who lamed your horse, we found him in the yard after Zaraki extracted his confession initially. He’ll live, the surgeon says,” Symon said first.
Leisha glanced at Zaraki, wondering how he managed that.
Her spymaster asked, “Did he say anything else?”
“Just that Bech paid him to lame Suma and substitute the other horse. It’s the only link between the two men.”
Zaraki scowled. “He didn’t confess to putting the halter on wrong?”
“No. Andelko said he only admitted to burning the mare and bringing out the stallion. He said he didn’t mean for the queen to be injured but didn’t think to ask why Bech wanted a stallion for her instead.”
“There’s more then. Whoever put the tack on the stallion did it wrong intentionally.” After seeing the terror in the groom’s eyes, Zaraki felt sure of it.
Symon stood up. “I’ll tell Andelko immediately. We’ll find out who was in charge of tack this morning.”
Zaraki made to follow, but when Leisha stopped him, his heart started pounding. Years of risking his life, being stabbed in a street fight, neither thing made him as nervous as this moment did. Suddenly the prospect of being let go seemed very real, and for a stupid mistake, he might lose everything. Before she could speak, he began apologizing. Even if she let him go, he wanted to tell her how sorry he felt to have failed her so spectacularly.
“My lady, I can’t begin to apologize for my stupidity. I understand if you no longer trust me to protect you. I’m so terribly sorry.”
The intensity of his words confused her. Leisha touched his thoughts and found a riot of anger and self-recriminations. “You blame yourself?” she asked, surprised.
“I do, Highness,” he said as words continued to tumble from his mouth. “I should’ve checked the halter and shank. If I’d seen how it was on the horse, I would’ve known something was wrong. There was no reason for that beast not to be properly restrained for a less skilled rid— ah.” He paused but she waved it away.
“Zaraki, you saved my life. I couldn’t be happier with your service today. You can’t possibly think I’d blame you.”
Throwing himself back down in the chair across from her, he ran his hands over his face. “I do think so and I know I could’ve done better today. I’m sorry.”
She watched him, realizing she asked far too much of this man who never complained and who took his obligations to her so seriously. “I want you to give more responsibilities to Jan and Eli. I trust them. I know this job is bigger than you originally intended and you do very little spying. I won’t have you killing yourself trying to be everywhere at once.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. “I will, Your Grace,” he promised, sounding relieved. “Thank you for not sacking me.”
She chuckled. “There was never any danger of that, Spymaster.”
They were both exhausted, he knew, and maybe it explained the casual conversation they were having. Still, he gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m glad you’re all right, my lady.”
“I’m glad as well. Before you go, I want to give you something. Two things, actually, for saving me.” She pulled a ring from a box on her desk. “Something impractical and something useful. The ring belonged to my father, I think. It was in his things. It’s not practical for you to wear most of the time, but you never know when you might need to dress up. You deserve something special to remember the day you saved my life.”
“This is too fine for someone like me,” Zaraki stammered. A large sapphire sat in a gold star-shaped setting. The ring would buy his services for a decade, at least.
She gave him a mock scowl. “Zaraki, this is a gift freely given. It’s a Tahaerin custom that you must accept it.” Just like that, she swept aside his protests.
“Now, for the practical gift, I want you to have my mare, Suma. She is from the best stock my horse breeders could find. Once she is sound again, I think you’ll find her more useful than I. I may never get back on a horse again.”
Zaraki laughed. “Thank you, my lady. And thank you for the ring. It’s truly a work of art.” He peered at it. “I feel like I’ve seen this before. It’s very similar to one your great-grandfather wore in his portrait, I think.” Something tugged at him. Something about the portrait and someone who looked a great deal like her great-grandfather. But it was gone.
“Then it’s likely a family heirloom,” Leisha said. “All the more reason for you to have it. Today, you saved the last true Tahaerin monarch.”
***
Taking Leisha’s admonition to heart, Zaraki asked Jan and Eli to investigate the assassination attempt. They tracked Bech back to a filthy rented room over a butcher shop. A few people remembered him from the area and had seen him eat in a nearby tavern. One man recalled seeing him with another large, dark-haired fellow. Bech refused to talk the first day and then his wound turned septic. For a week, he lingered, racked with fever, and then died without speaking another word. Inside his room, Jan found a few scraps of paper and brought them back to Zaraki.
Signed with an F, one paper seemed to give permission to proceed with the attempt on Leisha’s life. Beyond that, the trail died. Frustrated at the lack of closure, Zaraki told Leisha there was certainly at least one other person involved but they could not say who it was.
“I want the Master of Horses dismissed at least,” he told her and Symon over lunch a week after the incident.
“Was he involved?” Symon asked, alarmed.
“I can’t say, but he raised no objections when a groom brought out a huge, ill-mannered stallion for an inexperienced rider, who also happened to be the queen. I want him gone.”
“Do it, then. I trust your judgment,” Leisha said.
It surprised Zaraki how much her approval meant to him.
Blockade
Leisha turned eighteen though no fanfare or celebration heralded the day. No one in Embriel ever observed her birthday, and the concept seemed odd to her. Instead, she spent the day considering a move to gain her some much-needed allies.
After the attack at the parade, her nobles kept quiet. Some were horrified at such a brazen assassination attempt and told her as much. Some wrote to say she gained a measure of respect based on the way their spies reported her handling it. A few others thought it a remarkably poor attempt and set about making their own plans, vowing to do better.
Now she felt it was time to be bolder. She needed allies if she wanted to put all her plans to work. For the
last two years, she had watched and observed, learning all she could about her kingdom, its collection of vicious nobles and the changing tide of their loyalties. She saw how their constant fighting held the realm hostage, keeping the monarchy forever occupied with conflict rather than actual governing. The first step to changing this would be welding some of the lords to her side.
Looking over a map, an idea came to her. It would benefit some of the lords she had made tentative alliances with at her coronation. Bartolo, Ladvik, and Lovek, and a few other made a good deal of money from wool with their vast herds of sheep in the western part of the kingdom. They sent almost all their wool to seaports to be shipped to market. While in the east, Staval and some of her least-favorite lords also kept herds of sheep, but they sent their wool to market down the Vinca.
She would order new protectionist taxes on wool transportation. Her order lifted all taxes on wool shipped by sea. Taxes charged on wool at ports along the Vinca were doubled. This would benefit Bartolo and the others and bind them to her side. Money usually did that.
However, implementing this would cause a direct confrontation with Staval, when he realized it hurt him and his group of allies. Leisha tried to imagine his most likely reactions and how she could counter them. Up until now, she intended to ruffle as few feathers as possible with her changes and reforms. She clarified existing laws and taxes and rooted out corrupt officials. With the new tax, she declared an end to the standoff and peacekeeping between herself and the nobles.
She ordered the documents drawn up and signed copies to send to each lord. Once riders were dispatched, she informed Andelko and Zaraki.
“Thank you for the warning, Majesty. I’ll make sure we increase patrols,” Andelko said, imagining a confrontation and looking forward to it.
***
A month passed with no word from her uncle or his allies. Leisha’s supporters, however, showered her praise and promises. A few letters arrived from other lords pledging loyalty. That meant she now had a decent-sized bloc of friends.
Then Andelko’s patrol brought word of Staval’s approach, three days before he appeared on the road leading down from the mountains. He brought a company of men with him and enough tents to imply he intended to camp for a while.
Leisha summoned everyone to dinner in the large dining hall. They needed the table space to plan.
“Is he going to attack us?” Leisha asked, bringing them all to the task at hand, as servants cleared the table.
Andelko shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s planning, lady. He brought men, and some horses, but the scouts didn’t see any siege weapons. A company of soldiers isn’t enough to take a city this big. It’s only a hundred men. Maybe he’s just trying to scare you? They know we’re aware of them. They can’t have missed my patrols.”
“How long will it take to call your men back from Moraval?” She hated the idea of armed conflict in Lida.
“A day to get word to them and the Horse can be here in another two or three. The Guard needs a week likely. Should I order them here?”
“No, let’s wait and at least see what he wants. We can close the gates and hold him off until the army arrives if he decides to attack.” Leisha now wished she had given more time to learning about her forces here. There just never seemed to be enough time. But she knew nothing about armies or combat strategies.
As they stood up after dinner, Zaraki noticed Andelko’s clean-shaven face, a first since coming to Lida. He cocked his head. The captain always had a beard. When had he shaved it?
Preoccupied by recent events, his normal attention to detail failed him, and it annoyed him. Staring as the other man walked past him, Zaraki would swear he saw a resemblance between the Andelko and Leisha. Dark hair, the shape of their eyes. He made a note to look into it when this whole issue with Staval was resolved.
***
Staval’s men camped half a day’s ride away, where the road from the mountains began its descent towards the sea and to Lida. They pitched their tents, dug latrines and set up pickets for the horses, making it clear they intended to stay put. At dusk, Staval and a retinue of guards rode down to Lida. At the gates, he demanded an audience with Leisha, outside the city walls, in the morning. They made no direct threats yet.
When their little group gathered around a small table in the library late that night, Zaraki spoke against the meeting immediately. He argued Leisha should refuse and listed twenty different ways Staval could kill her outside the safety of the city. Symon argued for the meeting to find out his intentions before escalating things further.
Leisha, quiet so far, sat forward. In the light from the torches lining the walls, she looked determined, older than eighteen. “I can’t hide from Staval,” she said, setting her face in grim lines. “I’m going out to face him. Now we need to figure out how to make sure it’s safe.”
“I can have the wall covered in bowmen,” Andelko offered. “First sign of trouble and they’ll take care of the problem for us.”
Zaraki scowled and exhaled a long breath, clearly unhappy. “Can I at least come as part of the retinue then? I’ll put on armor and stand at the back. I’m not at all comfortable with you going out there.”
The argument then turned to whether or not Leisha would ride to the meeting or go by carriage. Zaraki kept his voice calm, but Leisha saw fear in his eyes. He had never forgiven himself for the incident at the parade over a year ago. Out of character, she agreed to the carriage to save him any more worry.
“I’ll leave you all to finalize the logistics. I need time to think,” she said and rose from the small table.
They all looked uncomfortable after she left the room. “This is it then, isn’t it?” Andelko asked the question hanging over them all.
Symon nodded, his face a mask of worry. “This is either the beginning or end of her reign. If she fails to tame Staval here, she’ll be dead or married off in six months. If she succeeds, he’ll be broken and his alliance against her shattered. It’s all in who blinks first.”
“What can we do?” Andelko chafed at having to sit and wait for events to unfold.
“Tomorrow? I don’t know. When her father faced a similar threat, he was assassinated,” Symon said, remembering his friend and wondering if Davos’s daughter would suffer a similar fate.
All three men sat together for another hour as the torches burned lower.
At first light, a runner brought word Staval and his entourage were on the move. Leisha’s women dressed her in blue and gold and bound her hair back under a fillet. Under her bodice, she wore the tight-fitting leather top Zaraki insisted on. It might stop an arrow and offered a bit of protection. She ate a small breakfast and finished just as Symon appeared to let her know the carriage was set.
“Are you ready, Your Majesty?”
“I am,” Leisha said and rose from her seat, ready for this confrontation. Even with so much at stake today, the prospect of a challenging row with her uncle excited her. More than it should, probably.
Looking at her now, Symon saw her mother. Angry and proud, she shoved her fear aside and became a queen—one who knew the correct course of action for her kingdom. Not for the first time, he wished Davos had known his daughter. His heart swelled with pride remembering the tiny girl in the carriage all those years ago.
Zaraki and two other guards rode with her in the coach. Eight more rode matching black warhorses behind her, their ceremonial barding with her hawk and sword on it pulled out last night for this meeting. People on the streets stopped to stare at the great beasts and their colored trappings. They knew an army camped up the road from town, but so far no one seemed concerned about it.
When they arrived at the gate, Leisha could see the soldiers on the wall, unsure and untested, looked anxious. There had been no armed conflict in Lida in over a decade. She saw Andelko conferring with his captains. The town gates, sealed against Staval, would stay closed until he felt he controlled the situation. The Lord of the Tymek and his men would agree t
o stay a certain distance back. Leisha’s archers would understand when they would be authorized to fire, and the mounted soldiers needed to confirm they understood what to do in the event Staval tried to abduct Leisha.
In the carriage, Leisha fidgeted, plucking at the cushion she sat on and brushing the curtain aside. The waiting drove her mad. Straining to see the moment the gates opened, she drummed her fingers along the edge of the window.
Zaraki watched as she fiddled with her skirts and finally pushed herself up from her seat. The door to the carriage banged opened and Leisha stalked towards the stairs leading to the top of the wall. Used to her bullheaded displays now, he waved the other soldiers back and followed her. They mounted the wall together and looked towards the foothills behind the town. The wind whipped at their clothes and pulled at her hair.
On the sloping plain beyond the walls, Leisha saw Staval and his men arrayed on their horses. Her uncle sat astride his own large horse, appearing too proud and arrogant. She narrowed her eyes at them, thinking. Zaraki watched as she set her face in the fierce, determined mask she wore when she wanted to win and resigned himself to whatever decision she had just made.
“Bring me one of the horses,” Leisha ordered, still staring out over the wall.
Zaraki winced. “Lady, we don’t have a side saddle,” he said, hoping the lack might deter her rush to kill herself.
The thought wafted around them like the scent of spring flowers and Leisha smiled. “It won’t.” She heard the curse he muttered under his breath and cut her eyes over at him. “I’ll ride astride.”
“I’m coming with you on horseback, then. Please don’t argue, Highness.”
Coming down off the wall, he called for two of the warhorses. Andelko balked but relented, seeing Zaraki shake his head. They had no hope of arguing her out of this. Two riders dismounted after consulting each other and a young man came forward with his reins. “Put her on this one, sir. Pelo is calmer and listens well. He’ll also run like a demon is after him if she puts the whip to him.” Zaraki thanked the man and took the reins to the other horse as well.
A Gift Freely Given (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 1) Page 16
