by Cara Witter
Hugh reluctantly dropped his arm, and her own hand fell. “Very well,” Hugh said. “Goodnight, my lady. But if you require anything at all—”
Perchaya smiled. “I’ll let you know immediately.”
Hugh lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, sending tingles up her arm. Then he strode away past the garden’s torches, his own shadow flickering on the hedge.
Perchaya turned back to Kenton. “Well, what’s the emergency?”
Kenton stepped close and lowered his voice. “There’s a body in the basement of the castle. Duke Greghor has been using it to communicate with Diamis. We aren’t safe here.”
Perchaya stood for a moment, stunned, then grabbed Kenton by the arm and pulled him into a nearby gazebo draped with honeysuckle vines. “You saw this? Greghor communicating with Diamis?”
Kenton shifted uncomfortably. “No. But we found the body, and the description matched the one that Daniella saw in Drepaine and in Peldenar. And she said the area felt like blood magic.”
Perchaya shivered despite the warmth of the night. She was glad not to know exactly what that would feel like. “Do you really think leaving is the best option? Because if you didn’t see Greghor, we don’t actually know who’s been using it.”
“But Diamis knows we’re here,” Kenton said.
“We assumed he did, didn’t we? He’s always known where we are, and this time is no exception. His troops can’t reach us until we cross the border into Andronim.”
“Unless Greghor is a spy,” Kenton said. “It’s his men who guard the border between Grisham and Foroclae. If he lets them through—”
“We need more information,” Perchaya said. “Besides, Jaeme still has to find Kotali.”
“We can’t stay,” Kenton said. “It’s not safe, and—”
“Think about it,” Perchaya said. “Even if someone here is communicating with Diamis, he can’t march an army in here. If Greghor was working with Diamis, don’t you think he would have acted as soon as we arrived?”
“Not necessarily,” Kenton said. “He may be waiting for Jaeme to get the stone.”
“Jaeme’s uncle doesn’t even know he’s a godbearer,” Perchaya said. “Jaeme said he didn’t want his uncle to think he’d lost his mind.”
“Or,” Kenton said, “he does know. And he’s waiting for Jaeme to find Kotali before turning us all over to Diamis with the stone in hand.”
Perchaya couldn’t deny that was a possibility. “If that’s the case, then the best thing to do is to stay with Jaeme and protect him, and then when he finds Kotali, get out of Grisham as soon as possible.”
“If he ever decides to find it.”
Perchaya put a hand on Kenton’s arm. “Besides, we don’t know who’s been using the body, right? It could be someone else, someone who’s read Jaeme’s letters.” She thought about that. “Perhaps Greghor’s manservant, or Jaeme’s friend Stephan. He’s close to the family, isn’t he?”
“It could be Hugh,” Kenton said.
For the love of Kotali. Perchaya pursed her lips and gave Kenton a long look.
“What?” he asked. “It would explain why he’s cozying up to you.”
“Of course. Because the only reason for a man to be interested in me is because he’s secretly a blood mage.”
“Don’t start,” Kenton returned. “I already expressed that I’m also worried about his other motivations.”
“Yes,” Perchaya said, alarmed at the snappiness of her own tone. “You’ve been quite clear that neither you nor any man should want to touch me.”
Silence settled between them, thick as silt. “I mean—” Perchaya said, at the same time that Kenton stuttered, “I—I didn’t—”
They both fell silent again.
“My point,” Perchaya said quietly, “is that if we leave now, without learning if someone here has been communicating with Diamis, then we quite possibly leave Mortiche with a spy in its midst. If Diamis has people working for him here, then no doubt he has machinations for war already in place. All of Mortiche is at risk.”
Kenton’s expression turned considering. “A war with Mortiche would distract Diamis from us.”
Perchaya stared at him.
He looked up at her. “What?”
Perchaya pressed her lips together again. She could hardly begin to express how many things were wrong with intentionally letting the last holdout nation on the continent fall to Diamis on the hope that it distracted him from their quest.
She settled for just one. “People will die, Kenton.”
“I know,” he replied. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure it’s not my people.”
Perchaya squeezed his wrist. “I know. I think the best thing we can do right now is to attend the events of the tournament, watch and listen, see if we can figure out who the traitor is. You’re good at information gathering, and this will give you an opportunity to do it. Meanwhile, we’ll encourage Jaeme to search for Kotali.”
Kenton snorted. “That’s like trying to teach a pig to dance.”
Perchaya ran her hand over his and squeezed. “Have some faith. Kotali chose him.”
“When we find Kotali, I’m going to have a few things to say about that.” But he turned his hand in hers and squeezed back. And she only wished she knew how to convince him that it would all be okay.
It would have helped if she’d been able to feel sure about it herself.
Thirty-six
Jaeme left Kenton and Daniella in the rooms beneath the castle and marched straight up to his uncle’s office. Jaeme meant what he said—even if Diamis did have a spy in the castle, there was no way Jaeme would believe the spy was his uncle.
Which meant he had to report Kenton’s find to his uncle immediately—not that he was going to justify Kenton’s tirade by admitting that to him. If his uncle was still at the banquet or had retired to a parlor with some of the other dukes, it would be much more difficult for Jaeme to extract him without raising suspicions.
Jaeme knocked on the carved wooden door of his uncle’s office and was relieved when his uncle’s voice replied, “Come in.” Jaeme opened the door, stepped in, and closed it behind him. His uncle sat hunched over a supply list—from the handwriting, Jaeme could tell it was from the armsmaster. He felt a pang of guilt; managing the incoming and outgoing trade agreements had been Jaeme’s job before he’d left for Drepaine. Without it, the task had fallen on his uncle, as if he needed more to deal with.
He must be woefully behind if he’d returned to his office with this work even during the tournament, and after an event of state.
Jaeme certainly wasn’t going to lighten his load today. “Uncle,” he said. “Daniella’s bodyguard has made an alarming discovery in the basement.” Greghor looked up at him wearily as Jaeme sunk into his customary chair. “He found a body,” Jaeme said. “One covered in runes that looked like blood magic.”
Greghor’s shoulders dropped further, and he closed his eyes. “I was afraid of that.”
Jaeme hesitated. “You were afraid someone was hiding blood magic bodies in the basement? Because that seems like an oddly specific—”
“I was afraid,” his uncle said, “that someone had found it.”
Jaeme’s skin prickled, and his uncle looked at him with a resigned expression. But he didn’t continue. He waited until Jaeme found his voice. “You knew it was there?”
Greghor sighed. “I put it there. Two years ago, when Diamis sent it to me.”
Jaeme ran his fingernails along a groove on the wooden armrest. His thoughts seemed to slow. He didn’t know which part of that he ought to address first. “Diamis sent you a body. By the gods, Uncle, you’ve been communicating with him?”
Greghor put his elbows on top of the desk and clasped his hands together. “Yes. We’ve been in contact for quite a while now.”
&
nbsp; Jaeme ran his hands through his hair, not knowing which questions to ask first. “And the Council knows about this?” Jaeme asked. His blood ran cold. “Gods, did Diamis ask for me to seduce Daniella?” It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time he’d tried it, though Jaeme detested the idea that he might have anything more in common with Erich.
“No,” his uncle said. “The Council has no idea, and the Lord General only knew of your assignment because I told him myself, after it was suggested by the Council. I tried to get you out of it, but I couldn’t. Believe me, I never wanted you caught up in this.”
Jaeme wondered if he shouldn’t be running down the hall right now to find Hugh and tell him the whole story. But his uncle had always treated him like a son. He should at least find out what the whole story was. Jaeme remembered the dukes standing by, each throwing a ceremonial stone before leaving the dirtiest of work for knights of lower rank.
He couldn’t turn his uncle over to that fate. Not if he could do anything in his power to save him. And, Jaeme realized, if his own uncle could be involved, then he had no way to know for certain who else already knew. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Tell me why in the names of all hells you would do that.”
“I tried to warn them,” Greghor said. “I’ve been trying to tell them that we need to evolve with the times, since before your father died. But the other dukes—they’re just like your father. They won’t listen. They insist on tradition, when anyone can see that the standing army of Sevairn is more powerful than a handful of knights and a swarm of peasants with sticks. But you heard them at the banquet. You’ve heard them before. They’re more concerned with keeping their people poor and hungry than they are with protecting the safety of our borders. And now the Lord General is at the gates, and we’re still unprepared.” Greghor shook his head sadly.
Jaeme had heard all this before, and he didn’t disagree. But still—
“I wanted to convince them to adapt,” Greghor went on. “But it does no good to tether your rowboat to a sinking ship. If they don’t want to patch the hull, I had to cut us free. And I know which boat is going down and which will stay afloat.”
Now Jaeme was gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles hurt. “So we’ve joined Sevairn? All of Grisham?”
Greghor nodded. “I’ve promised Grisham to them, to let Diamis peacefully expand his border past Foroclae, to the edge of our lands, and then as far as he can reach. He’ll take all of Mortiche, once his army reaches our shores. The northern duchies especially won’t stand a chance. So few of their peasants can even swing a pointed stick. And in return . . .” The look of resignation returned to Greghor’s face. “In return I, and then you, will become the Lord Governor of Mortiche, like Lord Tehlran in Andronim. Mortiche is going to fall. This was the only way I could ensure that our family’s holdings would remain intact.”
“Our family’s holdings,” Jaeme said, the horror turning building into anger. “But what about our gods-damned honor?”
“Our honor,” Greghor said, “is to protect our people. Do you want me to send what little army we’ve mustered against the full force of Sevairn? Do you want that I should let our fields be burned, our people murdered just because a bunch of pig-headed spoiled brats can’t see that the way of tradition serves us no longer?” Greghor’s voice shook as he continued. “No. If we must be Foroclae or Andronim, then we are to be Andronim. Let the conquest be swift, so our people won’t be made to suffer. Outside of Drepaine, the Andronish barely noticed the change in regime. We’ll get to keep the Church, the knighthood, even.” He shook his head at Jaeme, his gaze resolute. “It’s the only honorable way.”
Gods. Was it? It was treason, real treason, not the false accusation that had been leveled against his father. By making these promises to Sevairn, his uncle had broken his highest knighthood vows. Few knights kept all of them, but Jaeme had never known anyone who had broken them like this. Jaeme had found the pack of Nichtees easier to take in stride. “I’m not sure whether to ask why you never told me,” Jaeme said. “Or why you’re telling me now.”
“War is coming,” his uncle said. “I wanted to spare you the fate that will befall me if I’m discovered before it does.”
No one would be spared if they fell to Diamis. “You’ve done blood magic,” Jaeme said. “It’s not just the Council you need to worry about.”
“Only the barest amount,” Greghor said. “Only what I had to do to attune myself to the body.”
Given what he’d seen of other blood mages and what he knew of his uncle, Jaeme believed him. “But you didn’t think that if the man wanted to communicate with you through blood magic, it might be a danger to associate with him?”
“Far more dangerous to oppose him,” Greghor said. “Especially to do so unprepared. Even if we could muster a large enough standing army without angering the other duchies, what good would it do if Diamis struck through Bronleigh, or at Jekti?” Greghor paused, resting his hands on the edge of the desk. “There may have been other ways to protect our people, but I failed to see them.”
Jaeme let out a long, slow breath. His uncle seemed so weary, so worn down under the burden of what he’d been doing to his country. The lump in Jaeme’s throat grew as he thought of a question he didn’t want to ask. But there would be no returning to innocence after this. No unknowing what he now knew. “My letters,” Jaeme said. “Kenton said they were being intercepted, and that’s how they knew how to find us—Lukos, and then Erich. But they weren’t, were they?” Jaeme’s hand gripped the armrest. “You told him where to find me yourself.”
Greghor’s face fell momentarily before he regained composure. “I had to,” he said. “You were wandering toward Sevairn. He could have found out your location from any number of sources. He might have been intercepting your letters. If I told him a lie and he learned the truth, then everything I’ve done to protect you, our people, and Mortiche would have been over.”
The whole world seemed to be crumbling away, like sand blown from the stone by the unyielding wind. Jaeme wondered how many more layers could scatter before he wouldn’t even recognize his life anymore. “You nearly got me killed,” Jaeme said hollowly. “My friends, too.” The townspeople in Ithale who’d died. Nikeanor’s father. They were all dead because Jaeme had sent those letters.
And though he’d never tell him, Jaeme wished in his heart that he’d listened to Kenton. How was Jaeme going to explain this to him? Or Daniella, for that matter?
“Yet here you are,” Greghor said, and for the first time, Jaeme felt uncomfortable at the pride in his uncle’s voice. “You’re a fine knight. I had faith you would find a way out, and you did. And also—” Greghor cleared his throat. “—I’ve instructed the Lord General that if he hurts you, our bargain is off. You are my heir, and rightfully so. It won’t be taken from you. If you were arrested, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”
Jaeme wasn’t sure he believed that, but it seemed that his uncle did. Greghor cared about him, even if his other decisions were beyond redemption.
“So?” Greghor asked, resignation etched in the lines of his face. “Are you going to turn your uncle over to the Council? Have me stoned like your father? I realize now that perhaps I was only hiding behind the excuse of trying to spare you. Perhaps deep down I always knew you were the better knight. Too honorable and moral to go along with the schemes of an old man. Maybe that’s why I’m telling you this. Maybe I’ve known all along you’d be the one who would bring me to justice.”
Jaeme stared at his uncle. This man was the traitor Jaeme had spent his life fearing to become, fearing that his father had been. But his uncle had stumbled into things that he couldn’t possibly understand. The blood magic alone was terrifying. The fact that Diamis had set up in the castle that just happened to contain the seal of Maldorath himself—
Jaeme didn’t want to get his uncle in any deeper than he already was. Bette
r if he didn’t know what he’d truly allied himself with. If Jaeme could find the damned stone, he and the others could move on, and hopefully get to the Chamber in Peldenar before anything catastrophic happened to Mortiche.
If he told Kenton, Kenton would kill Greghor as soon as he could get in the same room as him. Jaeme didn’t want his friends in danger, but if he stayed informed by his uncle, he’d be able to tip them off to run before Diamis closed in on Grisham. What his uncle had done would be irrelevant anyway, once he and his friends reached the Chamber with the stones.
Kenton was right. Getting the godstone was the only way to set things right again.
Still, Jaeme had no idea where the jewel was. Kotali wasn’t, as far as he could tell, calling to him, so finding the god could take a considerable amount of time.
Perhaps he should tell his uncle of the true threat, so he, too, could be in on the plans. But Jaeme couldn’t be sure what his uncle would do with that information, and if he communicated more details to Diamis . . .
Jaeme had to protect them. He had to protect them all. “I won’t tell anyone. But I have one condition.”
Surprise crossed his uncle’s face, as if he’d been pardoned even as the noose tightened around his neck. “Yes?”
Jaeme needed promises for the one person he was least certain he could keep safe—the person he needed to protect most. “You have to protect Daniella. She’s desperate not to return to her father. If you ensure that she can stay with me, that he can’t get to her, then I’ll stay quiet about what you’re doing.”
Greghor hesitated. “Jaeme, it’s one thing for me to make that bargain for you. But she’s his daughter. He’s going to want her back.”
His uncle didn’t seem to know anything about why he wanted her, which was for the best. “I don’t care what you tell Diamis,” Jaeme said. “But you protect Daniella also, or I’ll go straight to the Council. If Diamis’ troops are moving in, you tell me so I can get her and her people out of here. That’s the deal.” If Daniella knew the truth, she’d run. But doing so would put her in more danger, not less. Here, Jaeme could keep an eye on the situation. Only here where he had access to his uncle did he have even the tiniest bit of control.
