“You kill him, the monsters here will ravage you,” Mary said. “Keep it hidden. Keep it safe. Wait until you’re truly alone.”
Then she was gone in search of finer clothing. More buckets of hot water were poured into the tub, banishing the rest of its chill. Allowing herself a moment of luxury, Alyssa washed her hair and let the servant girls scrub her skin red.
Mary shortly returned, holding a blue dress of fine material.
“It belonged to Theo’s younger sister,” Mary explained. “I’ve already asked him, so don’t worry.”
They pulled her out of the bath, toweled her off, and then flung the dress over her head. The laces across the back seemed old-fashioned and overly elaborate, but Mary navigated them with ease.
“Suck your breath in more,” Mary ordered. Alyssa obeyed. The laces slid tighter. Alyssa’s chest heaved upward, looking twice its original size. When she looked down at her own body, the cleavage seemed obscene.
“Bear through,” Mary said, recognizing the look. “A man thinks with his nether regions. The sight of you will stir him, and as long as a man’s stirred, he’s stupid.”
“What if he’s stupid before?”
Mary put her calloused fingers on Alyssa’s chin and pulled her face close.
“Watch your tongue, girl,” said the elder. “Men may be stupid, but women talk, and all around you are ears.”
The girls dabbed her with perfume, combed her hair, and draped a multitude of necklaces across her neck and chest. When they were finished, she glanced into an offered looking glass, hardly recognizing the woman in the reflection. She knew that the Gemcroft name allowed her the luxuries she wore, but never once had she felt compelled to decorate herself so outlandishly.
Mary dismissed the rest of the servant girls.
“For your sake, remain patient,” she told Alyssa. “You’ll gain yourself nothing but bruises if you resist ineffectually. Deep down the Kulls are animals, dangerous animals. Do whatever you must to keep them calm.”
Alyssa shook her head, wondering how her future had turned so grim. That night Yoren would come for her, as he would the next, and the next. More and more she wanted to turn him away, to deny his touch, but Mary’s meaning was clear. Resisting meant beatings, or worse. Cruel as it sounded, she felt she deserved her predicament. From the moment she’d started listening to the lies Yoren had whispered in her ear as they cuddled in her bed, she’d earned this. She had believed his silver tongue and turned against her father. For that she was thrown out, and now she was chained to Yoren’s true nature.
The skirt she wore had several layers. Mary separated them, making sure that Alyssa watched. The innermost was thin, white, and silky. Along the inner thigh was a single pocket. Mary slid the dagger inside.
“Never let him find it,” Mary said.
Alyssa nodded.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Come,” said Mary, extending her hand. “You have a meal to attend.”
This time Theo did rise at her entrance. A stupid grin spread across Yoren’s face. Alyssa knew that at one time she had thought it charming, and that only enhanced her conviction that she had been an idiotic girl. Blind. Stupid. Careless. She was starting to run out of ways to insult the girl she’d been only days earlier.
“You look stunning,” Theo said. “Isn’t that right, Son?”
“Breathtaking,” said Yoren.
Without being asked, Alyssa took a seat beside Yoren. She could tell he was pleased by the obedient-wife act. That was good; it’d keep him unsuspecting, but more important she hoped it would keep her from being dismissed from their planning. Despite their setbacks, she knew they still eyed the wealth of her family. The more she knew, the better her chance of minimizing the damage.
“We were actually just discussing returning you to your rightful position among the Gemcroft family,” Theo said, sipping wine from a gaudy gold cup. “It seems we were foolish to trust those Karak bitches to do anything right.”
“It was not their fault,” Alyssa said, hoping it might incite a bit of anger, and therefore information. “My father was ready.”
“He usually is,” Theo said, his words dripping with bitterness. “I remember sending my men to grab what was rightfully mine, but even all those miles away from Riverrun he was still prepared. It wasn’t just the gold, Alyssa, it was deeds, titles, and information. Everything east of the Queln River should be mine. Those lands deserve a true lord! Lord Gandrem has no rightful claim. Let him have the plains. He belongs with the grazing cattle.”
If she’d meant to incite anger, she’d done exceedingly well. Though she knew of Theo’s feud with Lord Gandrem, the current ruler of much of the lands north of Veldaren, she’d never heard of the Kulls’ attempt on her father’s safe houses in Riverrun. If she had, she’d have seen Yoren’s courting in a whole new light.
“My lord, a visitor requests an audience,” said a guard as he poked his head in through the flap.
“What’s his name?” asked Theo.
“Her,” the guard said, looking a little flustered. “And she says she has no name.”
Theo let out a humorless chuckle.
“Send her in.”
Alyssa felt a bit of hope as one of the faceless women entered. She was fully clad in her black and purple wrappings, her face a mask of white cloth. By her build, Alyssa recognized her as Eliora.
“I have come to listen,” the woman said.
“Listen?” asked Theo. “To what?”
“She means she needs orders,” Yoren said. All three watched as shadows seemed to curl off her firm body and fade away like smoke.
“Yes, well, we’d have those ready for you if we weren’t always being interrupted by bothersome women,” Theo said. “First Alyssa, now you. Well, since we’re all here, let us get down to business. Maynard’s got to go. Before he does, we need to find a way to reinstate Alyssa as the lawful heir to the Gemcroft estate.”
“Wills covered with blood are rarely followed,” Eliora said.
“I know that,” Theo said. “I’m a Kull, not an idiot.”
Alyssa thought they were one and the same and had to feign coughing to hide her laughter.
“There is another way,” Yoren said. “The rest of the Trifect won’t dare let one of its members appear weak for very long. If we kill Maynard and then march on their mansion, the others will make sure the matter is settled quickly and quietly. Who’ll give a fuck if he wrote her out of his will? She’s his own daughter, the last of his flesh and blood. There’s a thousand ways we can discredit his death wishes.”
“A good plan, though almost insulting in its simplicity,” said Theo. “I have only a hundred swords here in my name. When could we possibly storm the estate successfully? We number only one-fifth of his house guards. I can’t even guess how many more mercenaries he also has on retainer.”
“When the head is gone, the body can only thrash for so long,” said Eliora.
“We have a philosopher,” Yoren said dryly.
“Is that an offer?” Theo asked. Eliora shrugged.
“We promised to do so once. We can do so again.”
“You also failed once,” said Theo. “Can you do that again?”
The shadows flared around her body. Alyssa wished she could back away from the two men. The faceless were dangerous, and to insult their professional pride and ability seemed beyond rash.
“We will not fail,” Eliora said. “Tell me when you will strike and I will tell my sisters.”
Theo scratched his chin.
“There’s only one time I can think of that we can catch the old goat unaware.”
“When?” asked Alyssa, unable to stop herself.
Theo’s grin belonged on a bear more than a human.
“The Kensgold,” he said.
CHAPTER
15
The king was waiting for him when Gerand arrived.
“What plans for today, Crold?” Edwin Vaelor asked as he made his fi
fth attempt at tying his elaborate sash correctly. Gerand frowned at his fumbling attempts, and when it was clear the king would do no better on his sixth, the advisor reached out and set the sash correctly.
“A few squabbles among farmers and some petty lords from the Northern Plains,” said Gerand. “The troubles from Angelport will be a bit more difficult.”
“Angelport? What’s bothering Lord Murband now? He has no rivals in the entire Ramere, not a single bloody count or noble to bicker over his territory.”
“But he has the elves,” Gerand said. “And you know how much he likes to talk up their threat.”
The king sighed as he slipped a gaudy necklace of gold and rubies over his neck. The Ramere was isolated in the far southeast of Dezrel, tucked in between the Erze Forest, the Quellan Forest, and the Crestwall Mountains. Lord Ingram Murband owned everything there from the Thulon Ocean to the Kingstrip, yet he complained more than any of the other lords. And it was always about the blasted elves.
“Don’t they insist they’re our allies? Granted, I have no trust in their claims. No one lies like an elf, right?”
“Too true,” Gerand said dryly. “However, Ingram claims that the Quellan elves have begun shooting arrows at his loggers.”
“He go too far into the forest again?” the king asked with a chuckle. Gerand was not amused.
“He’s asking for permission to declare war.”
King Vaelor scoffed.
“You’re telling me he’s to be the rough part of my day? Bring in the old goat. I’ll laugh in his face and tell him if he wants to cut down the whole Quellan Forest he’s more than welcome to, but he’ll use his own soldiers as arrow bait, not mine.”
“Any provocation in the south may cause the Dezren elves to retaliate in kind,” Gerand warned. “We have many farming villages stretching north from the Erze Forest. Thousands of acres of crops might burn.”
Edwin pulled on his thick crimson robe hemmed with white dove feathers.
“It won’t happen,” he said. “If Ingram sends in any troops, they’ll be dead in hours, and then all his precious farmland will be vulnerable. He won’t dare risk conflict if he knows I won’t protect his idiotic ass.”
“Your wisdom is unquestionable,” Gerand said. He clucked his tongue, immediately angry at himself afterward for doing something that announced his nervousness. So far the conversation had gone as expected. This next part, however, was what really mattered. Murband and his elves could go dive into the Bone Ditch for all he cared.
“One last item,” Gerand said. “I’ve received word that Thren Felhorn is expected to kill the Trifect at their Kensgold.”
“What’s a bloody Kensgold?”
Gerand mentally swore. The last time the Trifect had held a Kensgold was two years ago. The king had only been fourteen at the time.
“A Kensgold is a meeting of all three houses of the Trifect,” the advisor explained. “They meet at one of their estates. They brag about their riches, compare trade agreements, discuss the downfall of any competitors, and overall spend a frightening amount of gold. It’s a show of wealth, power, and solidarity.”
“So which member of the Trifect are they to kill, exactly?” Edwin asked as he stared at himself in a mirror, turning this way and that to see if anything seemed out of place.
“All of them, Your Majesty,” the advisor said. “The heads of all three families, to die within minutes of one another. Supposedly he’s to gather the members of every single guild together into an army and assault the Kensgold when the celebration is at its highest.”
The king whistled appreciatively.
“The wretch hasn’t lost his balls, but perhaps his brains. Clearly we can’t let him go through with it. Send word to one of them, Leon Connington maybe, about their plan. Let them find some devious way to scheme it to their benefit.”
“I’m not sure that is the best course of action,” Gerand said, broaching the subject carefully. He was well aware of the king’s paranoia, and he planned to use that to his full advantage.
“Why is that?” Edwin asked. He grabbed his gold sword from a chair beside him. Gerand turned and coughed, using the excuse to roll his eyes. The king had commissioned the sword in one of his first orders of rule when he ascended the throne at age twelve, officially coming of age. The long sword wasn’t tinted gold or covered with gold at the hilt. The whole bloody thing was made of solid gold: heavy, cumbersome, and thoroughly impractical. It shone beautifully in the light, though, and that was all Edwin cared about.
“Mercenaries from all over Dezrel will come pouring in for a taste of the coin the Trifect will be spending during the Kensgold. Hundreds upon hundreds, some from as far west as Ker and Mordan. At their last Kensgold, our best estimates put them at having over ten thousand men on their retainer, not counting their house soldiers.”
King Vaelor looked at Gerand as if he were insane.
“That’s thousands of men sworn to one banner inside my walls.”
“Within a short walk from your castle doors, yes,” Gerand added, unable to resist.
“Fuck. How long does this blasted Kensgold last?”
“Just a single night,” said Gerand.
He could already see the fear spreading in Edwin’s eyes. One night was enough to assassinate a king. One night was enough to supplant the hierarchy with the rule of coin and trade.
“We must stop them,” Edwin said. He clutched his gold sword tight, as if he were going to draw it and strike some unseen enemy.
“There’s no way we can,” Gerand said, feigning defeat.
“There is. Ban the mercenaries from our city. Get rid of them. They can’t pass through our walls if we don’t let them.”
Gerand nearly choked. He had been hoping Edwin would call for a sharp curtailing of the Trifect’s power. A massive increase in taxes, plus a crackdown on some of their more illegal activities, would have done wonders to subdue the Trifect’s smug flaunting of power. Banning all mercenaries, however, was about as far from what he wanted as the Abyss was from the Golden Eternity.
“Your Majesty, you can’t,” Gerand said. At the king’s frown, the advisor corrected himself. “You shouldn’t, I mean, not unless you want the thief guilds to thoroughly destroy the Trifect. Without their mercenaries they are vulnerable. Their house guards do well to protect their estates, but everything else, from their warehouses to their trade caravans, is protected by men bought by their coin.”
“Why should I give a rat’s ass about their coin?” Edwin shouted. He turned and struck the mirror with his sword, pleased at how it shattered. “I could tax every shred of wealth from their hide if I wanted to. If they’re so frightened of our city’s vermin, then let them flee to one of their hundred different holds strewn throughout Dezrel.”
There was only one card left to play, a trump card with a dangerous cost attached to it.
“If you do that, my king, then you will be signing your own death warrant,” Gerand said.
The king grew shockingly quiet. He sheathed his sword and stared at his advisor with crossed arms.
“How so?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
“Because Thren Felhorn thinks you attempted to kill his son. He will neither forgive, nor forget. Once the Trifect is dealt with, he will turn his focus on you.”
“He won’t dare strike at a king,” Edwin said.
“He will,” Gerand said. “He has before.”
The king’s eyes widened with understanding.
“My father…”
“There is a reason you became king so young, Your Majesty. Thren needed instability in the castle to set up his war against the Trifect. You were so young, you’d not wield full power for many years. Thren took the heads of your parents, Edwin. Took them in their sleep.”
Edwin’s hands trembled.
“Why was I never told this?” he asked.
“I made certain of it, and for good reason. I didn’t want you to do something that might cost yo
u your life. Your Majesty.”
The king pointed a shaking finger at Gerand, the tip waving in front of his nose.
“You damn manipulative fool,” he nearly shouted. “You told me Robert would just teach the boy, informing us of whatever he might overhear. How the Abyss did that turn into an attempt on the boy’s life?”
Gerand remained silent. An errant word now might cost him his life. No doubt the guards stationed on the other side of the bedchamber doors were already drawing their blades.
“You will answer me,” Edwin ordered.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gerand said, knowing his fate was sealed. “I ordered his son, Aaron, to be captured. We failed. I thought with him as a hostage, we might force an end to the squabbles between the Trifect and the guilds.”
The king struck him with the back of his hand. Gerand fell to one knee, his head throbbing where the king’s many rings had left deep imprints on his skin. The scar on his face ached, and when he touched it, he felt warm blood on his fingers.
“This needs to be handled, immediately,” King Vaelor said. “I can bear the Trifect, their wealth and their arrogance. Castle walls and guards protect me from their mercenaries. But I will not have some sewer vermin kill me over your mistake, especially that heartless bastard Felhorn. We know their plans for the Kensgold. Turn that against them.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gerand said.
“Oh, and if you should fail…”
Gerand stopped and turned around, his hand still against the door.
“If I fail, I will willingly go to Thren, kneel at his feet, and announce my guilt in the attempt against his son.”
The king beamed as if he couldn’t be more pleased.
“See, that’s why you’re such a great advisor,” he said, and he meant it.
Idiot, thought Gerand as he exited the bedchamber.
Aaron was getting good at choking down his curiosity. Any time he went somewhere with his father, he was never told where they were going or for what purpose, at least not until they were almost there. This particular task he followed his father on was already different from the others, further inciting his curiosity. They moved in daylight instead of at night.
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