The Queen's Blade VI - Lord Protector

by T C Southwell

  This time she could not stop in time, and expected to pass through the ghostly image of her dead husband that had been summoned so cruelly from her memory. His arms enfolded her, and he lifted her off her feet and swung her around to absorb her momentum. Chiana sagged against him as he lowered her to the ground, gripping the front of his jacket. His solid reality dawned on her stunned mind like a warm sun breaking through the cold clouds of her despair. Her arms slid around him, and she clung to him. A sob tore through her as her eyes overflowed.

  Blade's arms tightened, and he stroked her hair. Chiana hugged him with all her strength, revelling in his impossible presence and the miracle of his beating heart that she had thought long since stopped. This was just another dream, she was sure, but at least he was alive in it, and warm. Blade would never return her embrace like this, and she did not want to wake up this time. Her sorrow poured forth in a storm of weeping, and he held her for what seemed like an age. Even when her sobs calmed, she did not dare to let go or look up at him, dreading that the dream would end the moment she met his frigid eyes.

  "Blade..." she whispered, then her throat closed in a sob. He shifted, stroking her hair, and she inhaled his warm, clean scent, sorrow overflowing her heart in a dark river. Saying his name somehow comforted her. For so long, she had whispered it while she lay alone in the darkness of her bed chamber.

  "Blade..." Her voice broke as the pain in her heart overwhelmed her.

  His embrace eased, and he gripped her chin and raised it, forcing her to look at him. The warmth in his eyes startled her, and she stared at him.

  He smiled. "I am not dead."

  Chiana released him and stepped back, her eyes roaming over his face. His fingers caressed her cheek and wiped away her tears, and his mouth twisted with regret. He glanced around, then took her hand and led her over to a wooden bench, where he sat and tugged her down beside him. Her eyes never left him, and he glanced away, as if embarrassed. Chiana tried to swallow the lump that blocked her throat and failed.

  He pressed her hand to his chest. "I am alive, see?"

  She nodded, and he cupped her cheek to wipe away the tears that ran down it.

  "Chiana. It is all right. Please stop weeping."

  She gulped. "I am dreaming again."

  "No." He tilted his head. "You dreamt of me?"

  A sob made her gasp as she raised a hand to touch his cheek, its warmth sending a shaft of joy through her. He clasped it, his eyes filled with pity, then he muttered a curse and pulled her into his arms again. She clung to his jacket as a fresh bout of weeping took hold, and he rubbed her back. When her sobs eased, she straightened to study him once more. He looked a little thinner, and tired.

  Blade averted his eyes and cleared his throat, his brow furrowing as he reached around and pulled something from his back pocket. He held out a squashed, wilted and battered posy of blue hayslips, the only flower still in bloom at this time of year, which urchins sold on street corners. She stared at them, noticing that his hand trembled, and he thrust the posy at her, as if aware of it.

  "Here. These are for you."

  Chiana took it and sniffed the sweet scent, which the bruised petals made more pungent. He clasped his hands together as if he did not know what to do with them, and she reached out to hold them.

  "Is this truly not a dream?"

  "It is not. I am here, and I am not dead."

  "It has been -"

  "Three years. I know."

  "You came back, and you brought me..." She glanced down at the mangled posy. "Flowers."

  "Yes, well, Jayon once said I should, when I returned from Cotti, the first time you thought I was dead."

  "Thank you."

  Blade jumped up and swung away, running a hand over his hair, then returned to sit beside her, looking ill at ease. She still wondered if this was a dream, despite his assurance. At least it seemed to be a pleasant one, although some were for a while, until they turned into nightmares. She longed to embrace him again, but was afraid that he would vanish, as he had so many times, in so many nightmares. He glanced at her, then lowered his eyes to his hands, which were clasped in his lap again. She started a little when he folded his arms abruptly, as if in an attempt to hide his hands.

  "What is wrong?" she asked.

  "Nothing. I just... I do not know how to do this."

  "What?"

  "This." He gestured, and a dagger slid from his sleeve. Blade caught it with a curse, grunted and juggled with the weapon before dropping it. He sucked his finger and bent to pick it up, pushing it back into his sleeve with a well-oiled click. Clasping his hands again, he frowned at the blameless bird bath.

  "What are you talking about?" she murmured.

  "It does not matter." Blade turned to her and took her hand. "You look awful."

  "I am sorry, I -"

  "God, do not apologise, Chiana. It is my fault."

  "Where have you been?"

  He frowned at her hand. "I was imprisoned in Contara. I escaped two moons ago, but I was injured."

  She tightened her grip. "How badly?"

  He shrugged. "A broken ankle, and some cracked ribs."

  "But you are well now?"

  "Yes."

  "How were you hurt?"

  "When I escaped from the prison, I fell, and then again, in the wilderness..." He sighed. "It was hard. I would have died, if not for..."

  Chiana allowed herself to hope that this was not, in fact, a dream. The posy was solid, his hand warm, and he remained beside her still.

  "Did you kill Dravis?"

  He shot her a quick, shy glance. "Yes. I thought you would know I was alive when you heard about his death."

  "But his throat was cut..."

  "Yes, it was a messy kill. Hurried, ill thought out. Stupid. I was chased afterwards, and I was hurt then, too."

  "What happened?"

  He sighed, rubbing her hand. "I had to jump out of a window, and broke my ankle, then I fell through a roof and broke some ribs." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "The same ankle, and probably the same ribs, too."

  "It is not like you to make mistakes."

  "I was angry."

  "Four dogmen. That was foolish."

  He nodded. "I know."

  "I am just glad you are alive, and that you came back." She put down the posy and placed her hand on his cheek. "My heart broke when... I thought you were dead." Her face crumpled, and she strived to calm herself. She had cried enough already, yet it took a lot of tears to wash away three years of misery.

  "I came back for you," he murmured.

  "What do you mean?"

  He frowned at his hands. "I have realised..." He paused, looking pensive, as if he wrestled with some inner dilemma. "There is someone I want you to meet."

  "Who?"

  He glanced around. "Him."

  Chiana followed his gaze. A wood cat sat before the grove of smoke trees, watching her with golden eyes, his tail twitching.

  "He is Rivan." Blade turned to her. "My familiar."

  She shook her head, stunned. "But... you are Bereft."

  "I was. Shamsara returned him to me, as payment for what I did for him."

  "What did you do?"

  He hesitated again. "I cannot tell you that. Perhaps one day I will, but not now. You have had enough shocks for one day."

  The cat rose and walked closer to rub against Blade's legs, then stretched and yawned before flopping down on the leaves. He rolled onto his back, revealing strange white marks on his belly and across his throat. She glanced at her husband, who gazed at his familiar, his mouth twisted in a grim smile.

  "Those are the marks of his death. He was disembowelled, and his throat was cut. He does not remember it, but I do."

  "This is... wonderful."

  "Yes." He raised his eyes to meet hers. "I am... Conash Tremalyn. I was born in a blizzard, under a Death Moon. I was three tendays early, and came into this world in a river of blood, so my mother told me. She almost died birthing me,
and she did not think I would live. My father named me Conash. Dead Son. I was a sickly child. I almost died from fevers several times. Including the time when Armin stabbed me, I have been given the Death Rites four times."

  Chiana shivered and rubbed her arms, wondering why he was telling her this.

  He continued, "The midwife who delivered me thought I was dead, and gave me to my father to bury. He shook me, and I came to life, so he said."

  "I can still hardly believe you are really here," she murmured. "I sent a battalion to Contara to find your body. Kerrion was going to give Dravis to me for execution if he captured him. I had terrible dreams, that you were dead, and in one, you killed me."

  His brows shot up. "I did?"

  "Yes. Then you turned into him." She indicated Rivan.

  "Why would you think I would kill you?"

  "It was a dream. It is what you do, I suppose. It defines you."

  "A cold-blooded killer?"

  "I do not care what you are." She picked up the wilted posy and smiled. "All that matters is that you are alive."

  Blade stood up and pulled her to her feet, then swept her up in his arms and spun around. She gasped and clung to his neck. His playfulness, and the ease with which he lifted her, was surprising. She was certain he could toss her into the air and catch her again if he chose. He chuckled and placed her feet upon the ground, steadying her when she staggered a little.

  "I will soon be a retired cold-blooded killer. How does that sound?"

  "Wonderful."

  He tugged at the laces that bound his collar, but she laid her hand on his and shook her head.

  "Let me."

  Chiana opened his collar to reveal the black dagger tattoo that marked him forever as an assassin. Just beneath it, the almost invisible leather patch yielded to her fingers when she pried up its edge and pulled it off, exposing the red teardrop. He sighed as if a great burden had been lifted from him, and tears filled her eyes again. She brushed them away, smiling.

  "I am happy," she answered his enquiring look. "Come, I want to tell everyone you are alive. We could not have a funeral, since your body was not found, but the city was in unofficial mourning for a tenday."

  "They mourned an assassin?"

  "They mourned the Lord Protector of Jashimari, a sacred Knight of the Veil, the former Regent, and my husband."

  "Ah. So all those silly titles were good for something."

  Chiana stepped closer and hugged him, and her heart overflowed when he held her, rubbing her back. She looked up at him, and he grinned, his eyes filled with amusement, a hint of mockery in their depths. Taking her hand, he bowed over it and raised it to his lips.

  "May I have this dance, my lady?"

  "There is no music."

  "I do not need music."

  Blade raised his arm, holding her hand as he tapped out a complicated rhythm on the stone. He circled her, then spun her around and released her to leap high, landing lightly. Chiana watched him with a lump in her throat. He had never danced for her like this. She had seen him dance many times, but this was different. His eyes sparkled and his steps were exuberant. Graceful sweeps of his arms accompanied the swift tapping of his feet. He took her hand and tugged her closer, then raised it to turn her as he moved around her with swift, floating steps. Spinning her into the crook of his arm, he held her to him for a moment, then spun her away, stopping her with a gentle tug that brought her close to him again. Releasing her, he spun away, his feet clicking on the stone.

  Chiana gasped as a shadow leapt at him, landing on his chest with a powerful kick that sent the assassin sprawling on the grass with a grunt. Rivan crouched over his friend and licked his face with a rasping tongue, and Blade chuckled, stroking the cat. Sitting up, he hugged the feline and bowed his head to bury his face in Rivan's soft fur. Rivan continued to wash Blade's cheek, purring, and she stared at the pair in wonderment.

  Blade looked up at her and grinned again, then pushed the cat away and rose to his feet. She took his hand and tugged him towards the palace. A minute later it was wrenched from her grip, and thud and grunt came from beside her. She turned, her mouth dropping open when she found Blade sprawled on the grass again, shaking his head with a smile. Rivan gripped one of the assassin's legs and tugged at his leather trousers with sharp teeth.

  Blade chuckled and looked up. "He likes to play."

  Chiana laughed, and the cat released his friend and bounded away, vanishing into the bushes with a rustle.

  "He seems a bit rambunctious."

  Blade jumped up. "What, for an old man like me, you mean?"

  "Exactly. Are you not now nine and forty years old?"

  "Thank you for reminding me. Perhaps I should buy a walking stick?"

  She giggled. "Perhaps you should."

  "Ha! You will pay for that!"

  Blade swept her up and spun around until she yelled at him to stop, her head swimming. She staggered when he dumped her on the ground, and reeled into a bush, falling over it with an unladylike oath. The assassin hauled her to her feet, then glanced around and released her hand as Rivan bowled him over, vanishing into a clump of prickly peril bushes with a yelp.

  Chiana burst out laughing, clasping her ribs as she doubled over with mirth. Blade climbed out of the thorny bushes with several pained grunts and a smothered oath, then grinned at her. She yelped and turned to flee as he came towards her, but stood no chance of eluding him. He picked her up and strode back to the peril bushes, holding her over them. She clung to his neck, shaking her head.

  "Blade, do not."

  "You laughed at me."

  "I did not push you into them."

  "Nor did you help me out."

  "Throw Rivan in, rather."

  He snorted. "I would have to catch him first, and you are a lot easier to catch then he."

  "That does not mean I am fair game, and I will wager you can catch him if you try."

  "Oh, so you do not think me a slow old man, then?"

  "You are certainly old, but not so slow as yet."

  Blade dropped her, and she gasped as she swung from his neck, saved by her grip. As soon as her feet were on the ground, he ducked out of her hold and spun around to find the guilty wood cat peeping out from under a fray flower bush. The assassin took a step towards him, and Rivan galloped away across the lawn, vanishing into the smoke tree grove.

  "I see he already knows better than to let you catch him," she commented.

  "That he does."

  Taking his hand again, she headed for the palace, eager to show him to Kerra. The first pair of guards to spot Blade recoiled in shock, their eyes widening, then bowed belatedly as he and Chiana walked past. They were her bodyguards, left at the doorway to the gardens to allow her a some privacy. They followed the pair into the palace, and at each guard post Blade received an identical, or more comical reaction. At the doors to the Queen's quarters, Chiana stopped and turned to her husband.

  "Perhaps I should tell her first. The shock will be profound, otherwise."

  He smiled. "Or we could surprise her."

  "I do not think that would be wise."

  "Come now, Chiana, she is young, her heart can take it."

  "Blade..." She shook her head. "You have no idea how devastated we were by the news of your death, do you?"

  His smile faded. "You should not have believed that lying toad without seeing my body."

  "If he had killed you, I doubt that your body would ever have been found. He would have delighted in throwing it in a gutter."

  "On the contrary, he would have sent you my head, to prove that he had slain me. It would have been too great an achievement for him to hide it. He would have wanted all to know that he had succeeded where so many others had failed."

  She bit her lip, her eyes burning again. "He did."

  "Did what?"

  "He sent... a head. It could have been yours. It was... rotted."

  "Gods, Chiana." He pulled her into his arms again, stroking her hair. "I
did not know."

  She nodded. "No, how could you? We should not have believed it. Kerra did not at first. She said he was lying."

  "Then she will not be so surprised."

  "She is convinced of it now."

  Blade released her and glanced sideways, and she glimpsed a dark shadow slipping behind a pillar. "Then tell her, but I do not want to stand out here all day."

  "You will not."

  The guards pushed open the doors at Chiana's gesture, and she entered the Queen's chambers. Kerra lay on a mound of cushions, a pile of blank parchment before her, chewing a quill. At Chiana's entry she sat up, arranging the skirts of her grey velvet gown. After the incident with Lady Cheran, Kerra's wild days had ended, and she reformed. Like the Regent, she had donned mourning colours and wore no jewellery other than her golden circlet. Chiana had been surprised and pleased that the mention of Blade's name had had such a profound effect on the girl's behaviour, but when she thought about it afterwards, she realised that it was not so surprising, really. While Kerra had lost respect for her father, she had never lost her esteem for Blade, and his demise had increased his status in her eyes. Myasha preened on his perch by the window, basking in a patch of sunlight.

  Kerra smiled and gestured to the cushions before her. "Chiana. It is good to see you. Sit, have some wine. How do you feel today?" She hesitated, studying the Regent. "You look... pleased."

  Chiana realised that she still wore a joyful smile, and sank down on a cushion to pour a cup of dry white wine, trying to formulate her announcement. "I am. I am extremely happy, in fact."

  "That is good." Kerra looked puzzled and uncertain. Chiana knew that her constant sadness over the past three years had made those who knew her wary. Most avoided mentioning Blade, for fear of upsetting her, and Kerra clearly thought it best not to enquire after the reason for Chiana's happiness, although the Regent longed to blurt her momentous news.

  Kerra sighed and put down the quill. "I have composed a poem. Would you like to hear it?"

  "Not now. I must tell you my news first. It is about Blade." Chiana paused, her smile widening. "He is alive, Kerra."