by Peace, Cas
Brynne. Elias is in a bit of a state and he wants me to ask you how he should respond to a message he’s just received.
She was surprised. He wants to ask me how he should respond? Elias was a capable monarch; he had never yet asked her advice on matters of state.
You’ll understand when you hear it, Taran said darkly. I’ll skip over the formalities and give you the gist. It’s written by the Cleric Patrio of the Serna Bay order and dated almost three months ago: ‘I write to inform you of the death of the prisoner Baron Hezra Reen, whom you sent into our keeping three years ago. We believe it to be a case of suicide, as it appears the Baron slit his wrists before casting himself into the sea from the island’s highest point. Despite a search by the fishermen who supply us, I regret his body could not be found.’
Sullyan was silent when the Adept finished reading, absorbing what she had heard and sorting through her feelings. It had taken some time for the letter to reach Port Loxton; the island off Serna Bay was both distant and inaccessible, which is why it had been considered ideal. She heard Taran’s voice again.
Brynne? Elias is waiting for your reply.
Is the messenger still there? she asked.
There was a brief pause while Taran relayed her question to the King. No, Elias let him go. It’s not as if an answer was expected.
I thought he wanted to know how to respond? Was it brought by a member of the order?
Again there was a pause. No, it was a runner from the nearest garrison. One of the fishermen who supply the island took the Cleric Patrio’s report to the garrison commander, and a runner brought it from there.
She gave a mental shrug. So what exactly does Elias wish me to advise him on?
This time the pause was longer. Sullyan sat trading looks with Blaine while she waited for Taran to reply. The General, of course, already knew the contents of the message.
Taran’s voice came through once more. He’s confused and unhappy, Brynne. I don’t think he knows what he feels about the Baron’s death, and he’s looking for some kind of reassurance from you. He hasn’t actually asked me to convey this, but I think he’d like you to come and discuss the message with him.
What is there to discuss? No, Taran, do not pass that comment on to Elias!
Sullyan broke the link to speak with her general. “You know he wants me to go to the capital?”
Blaine sighed. “I expected as much. You’d better go, Brynne. If he’s getting himself worked up over this he’ll not settle until he’s talked it out.”
“Talking will not alter what has happened. I should have thought he would be relieved by it, not worried.”
The General stared at her. “He’s never got over what they did to him. He’ll never forget what they made him do to you. You’ll just have to accept that he’s dependent on you now and hope that, in time, his shame will recede and he’ll be able to move on. Until then, we have to do all we can to help him. It won’t take up much of your time, after all.”
She stood, accepting his words. “Sometimes, Mathias, I regret my own cleverness in forging the agreement with Timar. Crossing the Veils like this may be just too convenient now.”
Blaine smiled. “You don’t mean that.”
Sullyan shook her head and relayed her agreement to Taran. The relief she felt from him was palpable.
Within the hour she had washed and changed and was sitting in the King’s private audience chamber, drinking fellan and reading for herself the parchment the King had received.
The message had brought all the bad emotions flooding back for Elias. She wouldn’t have thought this news could upset him so. He should have been dancing for joy that the traitor was dead, not feeling the empty dread and nagging sense of foreboding that exuded from him. He was annoyed with himself now she was here, she could tell, and ashamed of his weakness. Diplomatically ignoring his turmoil, she laid the parchment aside.
“Suicide,” she murmured, her eyes unfocused. Elias leaned forward expectantly. She gazed at him, her expression reassuring. “I can see why you were so … concerned. The Cleric Patrio says the body was not recovered.”
Elias gripped the stem of his goblet to steady his hand and took a healthy swallow of brandy. “The runner who delivered the message told me the fisherman searched the seas for hours once Reen’s disappearance was discovered. But because of the blood they found—”
“I would give much to have seen that blood,” Sullyan said. “I cannot understand why the Baron should throw himself into the sea if he had already slit his wrists. And how would he have the strength to climb the crags to where he is supposed to have jumped?”
“Yes, exactly. You don’t think I’m foolish to have these feelings of … unease?”
Sullyan gazed at her worried sovereign, her own expression serious. “No, Elias, I cannot think you are foolish. I confess I feel much the same way. If there was a body ….”
“What do you think I should do?”
“There is only one thing you can do. Send me to the island to speak with Patrio Ruvar and do what I can to satisfy you of the circumstances.”
Elias’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”
She smiled. “I am in your service. I will do whatever you bid me.”
The King ducked his head and she frowned. He still couldn’t get over her willingness to forgive and forget the shameful way he had behaved after his son had been abducted. In his eyes, he had forfeited all rights to her loyalty, thrown away any claim on her respect. She was a Princess in her own right, and a powerful Artesan. What right did he have to command her? Yet she had told him her Oath of Allegiance still bound her; she had never rescinded it and had no wish to. Her only desire was to serve her sovereign lord and he had no choice but to grant that wish. He would just have to bear the shame.
“When will you go?” he asked.
She didn’t miss the fact he had not given her an order. “I will return to the Manor tonight and discuss the matter with Mathias. I would not go alone, and Robin has duties at present. I need to arrange for Morgan’s care while I am away, but I will leave as soon as I may. I will inform Taran when I am ready.”
She left him, knowing he would go to his rest feeling easier. If anyone could discover the truth, it was Sullyan.
+ + + + +
Taran had been released from his duties for the day as soon as Sullyan had arrived. He was rarely needed in the evenings and spent most of his free time in the garrison with either Major Denny or Swordmaster Ardoch. Sometimes both. Tonight, however, he had another duty to perform, and it would likely prove both uncomfortable and painful.
Yet Taran could not shirk this unpleasant duty, couldn’t wait for Jinella’s next visit to the castle; that would be cowardly in the extreme. And no matter how deeply he wished he didn’t have to be the bearer of these tidings, Taran Elijah was no coward.
Or was he? He considered this as he mounted the beautiful blood-bay stallion that had been a gift from Elias and rode out of the torch-lit castle courtyard. His face burned as he realized how much time had passed since Sullyan had commanded him to talk with Jinny and tell her why he was preventing her from conceiving. He shouldn’t have put it off; he should have gone to her immediately and got it over with. Instead he had used the resumption of his Artesan duties as an excuse, and the fact he and Jinny saw significantly less of each other when he was actively engaged in Elias’s service only made the evasion easier.
Yes, he berated himself as he passed the night guard at the gates and returned the man’s greeting, you have been cowardly. Well, now he had an unpleasant duty he couldn’t avoid. If he must do this—and he must—he would do the other at the same time. If Jinny was to be upset, he might as well upset her all at once. At least then he could be on hand to comfort her. If she still wanted his comfort after what he had to tell her.
Bucyrus was fresh and fast; it didn’t take Taran long to reach Jinny’s home. His arrangement with Jinny was such that he treated her home as his own whenever he de
sired to be there. He was well known by her servants and never needed to announce himself. He rode round the side of the solid square building and dismounted in the gravel-laid yard. A groom emerged from the lamp-lit stables to take Bucyrus from him.
“I won’t need him again tonight, Matty, but I’ll probably have to return to the castle early in the morning.”
“Right y’are, sir,” the young lad said cheerfully, touching his cap as he led the stallion to the stables.
Taran had status in Port Loxton now, not only because of his position in the King’s service, but also because of the part he had played in the rescue of Prince Eadan from this very mansion. He still wasn’t comfortable with the deference of Jinny’s servants.
He strode into the mellow warmth of the mansion, stamping his feet to remove the light dusting of snow that had fallen during the day. It’s definitely getting colder. There’ll be some serious snowfalls soon. He pulled off his boots and stepped into the soft house slippers Jinny insisted he wear. He left his boots where they were; it always scandalized Jinny if he cleaned them or put them away himself. She often asked him scathingly what he thought servants were for. “I don’t pay them good wages to watch you work, Taran!” she would say.
He moved through the huge house, looking into various rooms, and finally tracked her down in the kitchens going through the herb store with Alice.
Alice had joined Jinny’s household after the Baron’s trial. She had once been nursemaid to Seline and Eadan, but had been cast out by the Queen—or, more accurately, by the Baron—on the pretext of being unreliable. In reality, it was because she had seen too much. Whatever the reason, she’d been forced to leave with no character reference and had fallen into the trap most unsponsored young girls did: prostitution.
Rescued by the intervention of Sullyan and the contrition of the King, Alice had been offered her old position at the castle. Though overcome with gratitude, she was uncomfortable at the thought of returning there, especially as the Queen was still in residence at the time. When Jinny heard of her distress she offered Alice the position of housekeeper at the mansion. Alice had served Jinny faithfully ever since.
Both girls looked up in surprise as Taran appeared in the herb store doorway. The Adept noted Jinny’s welcoming smile with less than his usual pleasure. She wouldn’t remain glad to see him for long.
“Taran!” The Baroness came over and kissed him. “I hadn’t expected to see you tonight. Why didn’t you send me a message? I could have arranged a special supper.”
Taran spared a warm smile and a quick greeting for Alice as he took Jinny by the arm and led her from the room. “I hadn’t expected to be here myself, Jinny. The King received a message and I need to tell you about it. And there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Taran’s serious tone and averted eyes transmitted his mood to his partner. Jinny was used to Taran’s character by now; she could tell when he was happy or sad, or when he had something difficult to say.
“What is it, love? What’s happened?” She clasped his hand in an effort to halt him.
“Let’s go into the drawing room. This is private business and I don’t want to be overheard.”
Puzzled and alarmed, Jinny allowed him to steer her into the lavishly decorated drawing room. As it was only used when Jinny entertained, he knew it would be deserted and none of the servants would blunder in while they were talking. He closed the door behind them and crossed the carpet, bidding Jinny sit on the settle. He seated himself beside her and took up her hands, feeling her tremble as she always did when anticipating bad news.
“Oh, Taran, tell me what it is! You look so serious; it must be something dreadful.”
The Adept took a deep breath. “Forgive me, Jinny, I don’t mean to upset you. The truth is, I don’t really know whether you’ll consider this bad news or not.”
“Is it my mother? Has something happened to her?”
Taran shook his head. Jinny had fallen out with her mother after Jinny’s elevation to Baroness. Her mother’s opinion was that Jinny ought to remember her roots and return to her mother’s modest estate and use her new wealth to benefit her immediate family. But Jinny had no intention of leaving court—of leaving Taran—and merely sent her mother some gold in recompense. It obviously wasn’t enough. Now the two women corresponded rarely, apart from her mother’s frequent letters demanding more gold, and Jinny had never even invited her mother to see her new lands.
The hard glint in Jinny’s green eyes told Taran she wouldn’t have been too upset if her mother had fallen on hard times.
“No, it’s not your mother. It’s your uncle.”
“My uncle?” Jinny frowned, but then her expression changed to one of fear. “You mean my Uncle Hezra?”
“Yes.” Taran clasped her hands tighter. “The King has received a message from Cleric Patrio Ruvar, the head of the holy order on the island where your uncle was exiled. It seems the Baron couldn’t stand the loneliness or disgrace of his banishment any longer.” Watching her, Taran saw Jinny’s eyes mist over as she guessed what he was about to say. “I’m so sorry, love, but it looks like your uncle took his own life.”
Jinny remained silent while Taran spoke. The moisture in her eyes did not spill over and she didn’t crumple as he had feared she would. Reen had treated her very harshly before his conviction, and it was Jinny herself who had provided much of the evidence that helped expose him. He had reviled her publicly and thoroughly for her lack of familial loyalty once she turned against him. The gnawing guilt Jinny felt over her actions hadn’t entirely been erased by the exposure of his treachery.
She took a steadying breath. “How … how did it happen?”
Taran was proud of her. In moments such as this, she could be much like Sullyan.
“He slit his wrists one night and then cast himself into the sea. He was seen at the last moment by one of the clerics, and a beacon was lit to attract a fishing boat from the coast. They searched for him as best they could at first light, but it was no good. He couldn’t have survived anyway, not with the cold of the sea and his wounds.”
“When was this?”
“Nearly three months ago. The clerics of the order did a search of the island and asked the fishermen to scour the coast for any signs of the Baron’s body. Once they were sure they weren’t going to find him, the Cleric Patrio wrote a report of his findings and sent it to the nearest garrison. There are no Artesans at that garrison, and so the report was sent by runner. That’s why it took so long. Patrio Ruvar thinks the body must have been swept farther out to sea—apparently the tides around there are very strong—and so they never stood a chance of recovering the Baron. He told Elias they conducted a Service of Passing for your uncle and that his possessions have been packaged in case you’d like to have them.”
Taran made no mention of the King’s disquiet over the Patrio’s message, or that he had summoned Sullyan to the capital to read the note for herself. The Adept had been strictly forbidden to voice any of their concerns in Jinny’s hearing. Elias knew how troubled she had been over Reen’s perfidy and he wouldn’t add to it.
The Baroness sighed. “So that’s that. I don’t know whether to be relieved or sorry. If he was so distressed by his imprisonment, then I suppose I’m glad he’s out of it. I know the King would never have pardoned him; he would have remained exiled until he died, however it happened. But I think a very small part of me was hoping he’d repent, offer to atone in some way. Then perhaps he could have been released to some easier place where he could have done some good with the rest of his life. Ah, well, it wasn’t to be. I hope he’s at rest now.
“So, what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?”
Taran’s heart sank. I really must be the world’s worst coward. He didn’t like to admit how much he had been hoping Jinny would be so upset over her uncle’s suicide she would forget what he’d said. Her distraction would have given him the perfect excuse not to mention the other matter.
Now he had no choice.
He couldn’t sit still. He dropped her hands and stood, feeling her green eyes upon him. A frown creased her brows. “This is going to be difficult for me, Jinny, and you’re not going to like what you hear. I only hope you can forgive me and that you’ll try to understand why I did it.”
“What have you done, Taran? Tell me. I won’t be angry, I promise.”
Jinny made it sound as though she thought he was confessing to cleaning his own boots again. Her attempt to reassure him only made matters worse. He faced her as best he could.
“When we had our picnic at the castle a few weeks ago, you spoke to Sullyan. You told her you feared you were barren, and thought that was the reason I’d never asked you to marry me.”
Jinny’s face paled and then colored. “Yes, yes, I did.”
Taran sensed her guilt and despair, as if she thought she had done wrong by confiding in Sullyan and Taran might break off their relationship as a consequence.
“I’ve been so unfair to you,” he blurted, turning crimson himself. “I should have spoken to you long before this, but we sort of drifted into our present arrangement and we never formally made an agreement between us. At first I was waiting to see how it went and whether we were suited, and I suppose I was content to let things carry on as they were. But that’s no excuse.
“Jinny, there is no reason to think you might be barren.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. “Hear me out, please. You can yell at me later if you want; I probably deserve it. The reason I’ve never mentioned marriage is because of the difference in our status. You are a Baroness and a very wealthy young woman. Regardless of my recent good fortune, I am no more than a peasant from an obscure little hamlet in the south of the province. No matter what you might feel for me, you can’t deny I’m no match for you. Because I was half-expecting you to realize this, I … took steps to prevent us from making a child. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into marrying me.”
