The Scarecrow (Master of Malice Book 1)

by Peace, Cas

  She didn’t understand and cocked her head at him. His lips quirked.

  “That’s the second time in two days I’ve been too obvious with my thoughts.”

  She shared his smile. “What was the first?”

  He colored faintly. “Ah … perhaps I’ll tell you one day. I want to hear what you found on the clerics’ island.”

  She accepted the change of subject and tucked her legs beneath her. Her gaze turned inward, focusing on the conversations she’d had with the clerics and the conclusions she’d drawn. “I will tell you the facts as I heard them.”

  He nodded, and she began her tale.

  “First, I have to say that the clerics I spoke to were not wholly surprised the Baron chose to cast himself into the sea. One of them expressed regret they were unable to prevent the incident, but they all agreed Reen had recently become frail, reclusive, and strangely depressed. Before that, once his initial fury over his humiliation and exile passed, he began joining their services and gradually became easier with the life he was forced to lead. But he was never content, never settled. After some while, he struck up a friendship with a young lad who had been gifted to the clerics by his parents, and who was as disaffected as the Baron himself. It seems they were kindred spirits; both convinced life owed them a debt, both determined to wallow in their misfortune. Although in Serrin’s case, his resentment was amply justified.”

  Elias scowled and leaned forward. “By ‘gifted,’ do you mean the boy’s parents forced him to join the order?”

  “That is exactly what they did, and I will tell you why in good time. At any rate, Serrin and the Baron became close. How close I cannot say, but certainly they spent many hours together. For some months, Reen seemed less … unhappy. He spoke with Patrio Ruvar on occasion, but mainly he confided in young Serrin.”

  Elias’s face still bore a scowl. “How old was this boy?”

  “Thirteen when he arrived on the island. He would have been seventeen when the Baron left it.”

  Elias noted her turn of phrase and raised his brows, yet chose not to comment on it. “And do you think they were … do you think their relationship was … improper?” He waved a hand vaguely.

  She smiled, amused at his hesitancy. “Are you asking if I think they were lovers?”

  The High King was thirty-three years of age and had lived through the assassination of his father and a civil war to regain his crown. She would have thought him worldly enough not to feel so awkward at the mention of such matters. Her brows rose even higher when she saw his face flush again. He nodded and she shook her head.

  “I could not say. Patrio Ruvar made no reference to it. But you knew the Baron better than I. Did you ever hear such tales?”

  “I can’t say I did. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. He was friendly with the boy. Let’s leave it at that.”

  She told the King everything she had seen, heard, and learned of the night the Baron disappeared from the island, concentrating only on fact. There was a long pause while he assimilated the information, and he watched her all the while. Then he spoke, slowly.

  “You don’t believe he’s dead.”

  “Now it is I who am slipping.” She gave a small smile and was rewarded by a more natural look from Elias, more like his old self.

  “No, you’re as open as ever, Brynne. But I can read the clues as well as you. ‘A vast pool of blood,’ you said. More than enough to be fatal, by the sound of it. And no one who had slit their wrists and left such a quantity of blood behind could’ve walked up a steep trail and thrown themselves into the sea.”

  “Indeed.”

  He regarded her. “I gather there’s more? You haven’t completed the tale of the boy, Serrin. And whose was the blood, if not the Baron’s? I take it this Frar Durren wasn’t mistaken; it was actually Reen he saw?”

  “Oh yes, there is no doubt the Baron threw himself into the sea. As for the blood and the tale of the boy … I very much fear the two are connected.”

  “You think it was Serrin’s blood? What grounds do you have for that suspicion?”

  Sullyan reached for the fellan pot and refreshed her mug, offering it to Elias. She poured for him while she ordered her thoughts.

  “No one saw the boy leave the island,” she said, leaning back into her chair. “Ruvar told me he would not have tried to dissuade the lad had he been determined to go, so there was no reason for Serrin not to have told Ruvar in person. However, I checked with the fishermen who supply the island—” She stopped and gave Elias a forthright look. “Were you aware the holy order is financed and supported by His Immanence Lord Neremiah and the Matria Church here in Port Loxton?”

  Elias nodded, shamefaced. His failure to inform her of this earned him a hard stare before she continued, telling him what she had learned from Galt in Foxdune. When she was done, she captured his gaze.

  “Elias, that boy was an untrained Artesan.”

  “What?” Elias leaned forward. “Did the Baron know this?”

  She shrugged. “I have no way of knowing, but I doubt it. At least, not at first. Certainly Ruvar did not know or he would have mentioned it. And I cannot conceive of the Baron conducting a friendship with the boy if he did know. But later on? Perhaps. All I do know is we have a missing boy, a desperate man who reviles all Artesans, and a pool of blood too large to have come from the Baron. And then we have the report of dead Roamerlings in Bordenn.”

  Elias stared at her in horror. “You’re surely not suggesting—? But that would mean he had help, that he planned this fake suicide, that someone is sheltering him, even supporting him! Who in the kingdom would do that, knowing what he did?”

  She held her peace, gazing at her sovereign. She understood how this revelation and dreadful suspicion would affect him. He had never fully recovered from the deep betrayal he’d suffered. But her silence and forthright gaze wouldn’t let him go and he had nowhere to hide. He could, however, refuse her.

  “No, I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”

  “Since she left the capital, has the Queen been in contact with Princess Seline?”

  Sullyan’s question, at such a tangent to their previous conversation, distracted Elias. He frowned in displeasure, as any mention of Sofira made him do.

  “Yes, of course, she writes to the girl regularly. But the letters come to me first and I open and read them all. There has never been any hint of subversion or plotting in them.”

  Sullyan nodded. “As I would expect. Sofira must know you would read her letters. I merely ask whether there has been any change in the frequency of these messages over the past few months.”

  “No.” Elias snapped the word.

  Sullyan wasn’t intimidated by her monarch’s ire and ignored his hot stare. “When the Queen was banished a year ago, what did she say to you concerning her children?”

  At first she thought he wouldn’t respond. She could see the muscles along his jaw quiver as he fought down the tide of fury her question had stirred. He had to force himself to articulate and Sullyan watched his struggle with sympathy. She wished, not for the first time, she could reach out to him and lend him some strength. But he was no Artesan, and the only other way open to her she couldn’t take. The comfort of her arms, which she would have offered to any of her other friends, had to be withheld. It was too perilous.

  Elias’s voice was harsh when he was finally able to reply. “She said any heartache or misery caused to her children by her banishment was on my head, and the hate they’d feel for me was of my own forging.”

  She heard the self-blame in his voice and saw the grief in his eyes. She reached out a hand to him. “Oh, Elias.”

  He shook his head and leaned away from her. “Don’t, Brynne. I couldn’t stand it.”

  Helpless, she watched his unhappy struggle. There was no cure for the malady afflicting him. She tried to find another way to help him.

  “But your children do not hate you. Eadan worships the ground you walk on. You should s
ee him at the Manor, carrying out your instructions and striving to make you proud. He lives for the day you come to visit so he can show you what he has achieved. He learns and he works only for you.”

  Elias sighed. “I know Eadan doesn’t hate me. You’ve seen to that very thoroughly. But Seline, I’m afraid, is a different matter. She is very close to her mother and older than Eadan. She’s been a very unhappy girl since her mother left.”

  “I did not have to convince Eadan to love you,” said Sullyan. “I merely tried to make up to him some of the care he had lost. And Seline will come to see, as she grows older, that you could not have acted any other way. And if she is never as close to you as to her mother, well, at least she does not hate you. Have you suggested to her that she might visit with her mother—under strict supervision, of course? It might soothe her to think you would permit that.”

  Elias’s face contorted with anger. “I’d sooner die than let my daughter visit Sofira! What the hell are you thinking of? Let her go into the clutches of that scheming harridan? Never!”

  Sullyan sat calmly. She understood Elias’s reluctance, but she had another reason for making the suggestion. “Very well, you will not let her go. But Sofira does not have to know that.”

  Her quiet words cut through Elias’s fury and he stilled. “What are you saying, Brynne? Speak plainly.”

  She took a breath. “Let us assume for the moment the Baron is still alive and capable of plotting revenge. Who would he turn to for support? Who of those who might conceivably help him has the power and the means to be of use to him? We know he corresponded with someone during his sojourn on the island, and that he received letters back. To have escaped death by drowning in the icy sea, a boat must have been on hand, and men to sail it. I am convinced the scream he gave was a signal to the sailors. And they did not come from the fishing village, that much we know. But Lerric’s lands have a coastline and there must be those among his servants who can handle a boat. He could have arranged transport and lodgings along the way for the laborious overland journey south to Bordenn, if they did not make the entire trip by sea.

  “We cannot go to Lerric and force him to answer our suspicions. But if I know the Baron, mere rescue will not satisfy him. He will need Lerric’s resources in order to wreak any kind of revenge.”

  Elias, furious and appalled, turned puce. “Lerric wouldn’t dare!”

  She shrugged. “He may not have had a choice.”

  This drew a startled glance from the King. “What are you saying now? That Reen has a hold over Lerric? What could that traitor possibly do to intimidate the king of Bordenn? He’d only have to denounce Reen to the garrison and they’d imprison him immediately.”

  Sullyan spoke softly, holding Elias’s gaze. “He may be controlling something Lerric values. Something the king cannot jeopardize.”

  Elias opened his mouth to refute her suggestion, but then shut it again with a snap. His face paled and his eyes closed. “Oh, she wouldn’t, would she? She can’t still harbor feelings for the man after he impeached her? They betrayed each other just as thoroughly as they betrayed me. They’d kill each other on sight … wouldn’t they?”

  Sullyan remained silent. She had no proof of her suspicions, she just couldn’t think of any other possibilities.

  Elias shook his head. “No, this is going too far. I can credit Sofira with many stupid things, but I can’t believe she’d forgive that treacherous snake, let alone take up with him again.

  Sullyan sighed, placing her empty mug on the table. “The alternative is that the Baron discovered his young friend was a fledgling Artesan and killed him in a fit of rage. What he did with the body, I cannot say. He then suffered unbearable pangs of remorse and threw himself off a cliff into the sea, drowning in the icy water which conveniently disposed of his body. We will simply ignore the strange deaths of two Roamerlings within Lerric’s borders, dismissing them as unexplained tragedies.”

  Elias regarded her unhappily. He could hear the wild improbabilities in this theory as well as she.

  “I do, however, have a suggestion as to how we might test the idea of Lerric’s involvement, or Sofira’s.”

  Wearily, Elias gestured her on.

  “You say you do not wish Seline to spend any time with her mother at Lerric’s court. But Sofira does not have to know that. A courtesy visit from you to Lerric’s palace with the purported intention of discussing Seline’s future might just turn up opportunities for investigation. At the very least it should give them pause for thought, if they are indeed plotting against you.”

  Elias regarded her doubtfully, clearly not liking this proposal. “Do you really think that’s necessary? It’s hardly practical at this time of year. I can’t say I’m filled with joy at the prospect of spending time in Lerric’s company, never mind Sofira’s. He’s always whining about how poor his province is and how unfair my levies are. And how she would receive me, I’ve no idea, but I guarantee it wouldn’t be with open arms.”

  Sullyan shrugged. “The decision is yours, my Lord. It was your disquiet that began this investigation, if you remember—your unease over the absence of a body. I have done as you bid me and given you my opinion based on the facts as we know them. I can think of no other way to test our suspicions, but if you are now happy to let matters rest, then that is what we will do. Are you happy to do that?”

  Elias glared in frustrated irritation. “Damn you, Brynne Sullyan! You know I’m not.”

  She held his gaze, waiting him out; knowing his innate caution and distrust would lead him to accept her plan. He knew it too, but held out as long as he could. Dealing with Sofira in Port Loxton was distasteful enough, but walking into her own demesne and spending time under her roof was another thing entirely. Much as he recognized the reasoning behind Sullyan’s plan, the execution of it would not be a comfortable undertaking.

  She offered no other suggestions, and eventually he sighed.

  “Very well. I’ll visit Lerric, though if he bores me to death with his protestations of poverty I’ll hold you personally responsible. When do you propose we set out?”

  “As soon as possible. I will speak with the General first, but my advice would be to set out before you inform Lerric of your intentions. We will make for the nearest garrison to Daret and send a runner from there. We do not want to give them more time than is necessary to cover up what they may not wish us to see. It would be preferable to turn up completely unannounced, but I suppose we cannot do that.”

  Elias huffed. “Indeed not. I can hardly show up on Lerric’s doorstep, in the middle of winter and with a large retinue, and claim I forgot to tell him I was coming. That would be the grossest insult. I can’t take the risk of alienating him, in the event he proves innocent of what you suspect.”

  She smiled. “A pity. Very well, I will go inform the General and attend you in the morning to finalize the details. Now, if I may be released, I must seek out Taran. I brought the Baron’s possessions with me so he can return them to Jinella.”

  + + + + +

  The Lady Jinella had retired to bed. It was early for her, but there was no reason for her to stay up. She hadn’t entertained or seen guests since Taran’s cruel revelations three days before. She missed his company, more than she cared to admit, although when he was on duty as Court Artesan she saw far less of him than when Sullyan was on duty there. This struck her as strange when she thought about it.

  She lay alone in her great bed, the bed that had seen so many loving nights, so many warm embraces and passionate cries. Remembering them with a pang of sorrow, she suddenly wondered how she could ever have doubted whether what she and Taran shared was real.

  He had hurt her deeply with what he had said. Yes, it was utterly like him to want to leave her free to cast him off for someone “more suitable,” but the fact he knew her so little as to believe she might actually do such a thing had made her bitterly angry. His assertion that her considering herself barren had never even entered his head was
also entirely believable and equally hurtful. Yet she knew his abject contrition had been genuine and heartfelt, and she understood how crushed he was at the pain and suffering he had caused her. He had stayed away as promised, waiting for her to decide on the future of their relationship. That alone had told her how deeply his feelings ran.

  She had done nothing but think it over since, worrying at it like an aching tooth. And the undeniable truth of it was, she knew with total certainty Taran couldn’t possibly have feigned the love he had shown her.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. She’d been foolish in her anger, though he had hurt her with his astonishing admission. If only he had spoken earlier, discussed his reservations, his concerns over his status. She could have reassured him in an instant that his peasant origins meant less than nothing to her. Well, nothing now that she knew him so well. Hadn’t she been attracted to him before the King bestowed that stipend and the freedom of the city on him? Did he think her so shallow that position and wealth meant more to her than commitment and love?

  The realization of the depth of his commitment and love for her hit her like a blow when she recognized that the presence of Sullyan at the castle hadn’t drawn Taran from her side. Her face flushed with shame. On the contrary, Sullyan’s presence had actually released Taran to spend more time with Jinny, and he had taken that opportunity. She could see now that if Taran had been as deeply smitten with the Artesan woman as she’d thought, he would have spent every waking moment with her, and not Jinella.

  She sniffed sadly then reconsidered. Yes, she had been foolish, but surely it wasn’t too late to rectify her mistake? She’d driven Taran from her side, but she could put that right. And if it had to be that the offer of marriage should come from her rather than him, well, so be it. She wasn’t so proud she would risk her future happiness on the trappings of protocol.

  Smiling, feeling happier than she had in days, she experienced that warm, exciting shiver deep within her that the thought of having him here in her bed once again always brought her. Sighing, Jinny closed her eyes to sleep.