“Indeed they do.” Zaraki paused to consider his options. He could certainly get free of his minder, but it would tip his hand too early. Recruiting the boy seemed a better course of action. “Vledmir, if I promise not to leave this room, could I pay you to go see what they’re hiding in the stable?”
“Sire,” he said hesitantly. “She told me not to leave you alone.”
“Here,” Zaraki said, pulling a small set of keys out and tossing them to the young man. “These are for the doors on this floor. Lock me in. Just go peek and tell me what they’re hiding.”
***
The sounds of a creaking chair penetrated the flower-induced fog, and Leisha realized someone sat next to her bed. She felt drunk and slow and confused. A jolt of recognition hit her. Awake, she was awake again.
Hurry, hurry, she chanted, frantic and desperate. She tried swimming back to consciousness but, as always, the drug confused her, keeping her thoughts scattered and disoriented. How many times did this make? She thought she remembered counting twelve, but perhaps she had forgotten others. Days slipped by as the flowers held her prisoner in this room.
Trying to focus, to force her thoughts to stop skittering about, Leisha heard the click click click of the mechanical clock and tried to concentrate on that. In her chest, her heart pounded against the bones of her rib cage. Adrenaline flooded painfully through her once more, reminding her that death stalked around the edges of the small room, waiting for Gerolt’s men to arrive. They would drag her to him so he could do as the visions promised—take her, possess her, break her before finally turning her over to the torturers.
Get up. Run. Fight back. No matter how hard she tried, her arms and legs would not listen.
Time after agonizing time the scene had repeated itself. Every eight hours the terror took possession of her and every eight hours she wept as she found no escape, no salvation.
“I’m really sorry, Leisha. I hate it’s come to this.” Turning her head towards the voice, she saw Lukas sitting next to her, bent forward, elbows on his knees.
Panic gripped her chest. They were coming. She remembered and felt tears coursing down her face again. “You don’t understand. They’re going to kill me, Lukas,” she croaked through parched lips.
“No,” he said roughly, jerking his head up and spitting words at her. “You don’t understand.” His voice sounded slurred and thick, and she realized he had been drinking. “I have no one but Lorant. I have no else to care about me—not my father, my brothers and sisters don’t even know me, not you. No one but Lorant.”
His whining self-pity pushed some of her terror aside for a moment, and Leisha felt a surge of anger. Did he really expect sympathy here? “Lukas, they’re going to kill me, torture me. This isn’t you.”
“I know.” Lukas sounded pained and sad. “But they promised to give Lorant back his lands,” he whined, his voice begging for forgiveness. “Leisha, you have to understand. Lorant is like a brother to me. His family is my family.”
Leisha tried to gather her thoughts, understanding this chance would likely not occur again. Manipulating Lukas should not be terribly difficult if she could just concentrate. “There has to be another way.”
Shaking his head sadly, Lukas looked away. “Lorant said—”
“He threatened you? Threatened to take his ball and go home? Lukas, he’s not your friend. He’s using you.”
“Everyone uses everyone, Leisha. You of all people should know that.”
“Let me go. I’ll get Lorant’s lands back for him.”
Lukas offered her a sad smile and she saw the hardness return to his eyes. He had made his decision and would not be swayed from it. “Things have passed that point, Leisha. You can’t win this. Capturing your Lord Constable would have sped things up, but still. There are forces at work you know nothing about. There’s no going back now.”
Suddenly the door opened and Lorant stood there, taking in the scene of the two of them together. “Lukas,” he said, his voice brimming with warning. “We promised we wouldn’t be alone with her.”
“I know. I was just checking on her. She’s no good to us dead.”
“It’s past time for one of these,” Lorant said, not convinced by his explanation.
As Leisha watched, Lorant opened the small leather pouch in his hand. Panic lit a fire that coursed through her veins. Anything but the flowers. Anything but the nightmares that chased her—the dreams of home and torture and love and death that all jumbled together when the flowers seized her. Anything but the dreams of Zaraki hurting her, wielding the knife that carved words into her flesh and the flail that scoured her back. For the first time ever, Leisha begged for her life.
“No, no, please. Please don’t do this, please.” Struggling to sit up, she tried to scramble sideways and almost fell from the bed. As rough hands caught her, tangled knots of words tumbled from her lips. “Please, I won’t hurt you. I’ll do anything you ask, please don’t do this. Lukas, I don’t want to die.”
“Back to sleep, my dear,” he said, pushing her onto the small mattress.
“Please, not the flowers,” she cried, trying to fight them off. Lorant grabbed her wrists in one hand and forced her head back with the other. She felt Lukas work two fingers into her mouth as she tried to shake him off. He crushed a small yellow flower between his fingers and dropped it under her tongue. Then he clamped a hand over her mouth and under her chin.
As he watched the drug take effect, Lukas stroked her cheek affectionately. “I wanted you to know, your kingdom will go to your cousin. They promised. He’ll be a puppet, but I’m sure he’ll be a good king.” He sounded as though this should make her happy.
“They’re lying,” she muttered once he let go of her. “My cousins are all dead. You know I have no family.” As darkness crowded around the edges of her vision, Leisha saw Lorant frown.
“Do you think she doesn’t know?” he asked, surprised.
“If she doesn’t, he’s kept a hell of a secret, but I knew him as soon as I saw him without the beard. It’s definitely him.”
They didn’t kill him, Leisha reminded herself again, as she did every time sleep came to drag her back to the nightmares.
***
Servants brought an uninspiring breakfast to the library, which no one felt like eating. Beneath the table, Zaraki’s hands twitched with nervous energy, thinking how he might surprise Aniska. The supplies in the stables meant a rescue, but if he did not play this correctly, she could simply lock him in a cell and leave without him. It infuriated him she would purposefully hide this from him and treat him like a child.
After being up all night, Ani longed for her bed, but did not want to do anything that might give any hint of her plans. Andelko had already ordered extra patrols south to the area around their proposed crossing. The others had collected most of their gear and hidden things away in the stables. After Zaraki’s outburst yesterday, she planned to bar him from the courtyard altogether.
“I’ve got no appetite,” Andelko said, pushing his plate away. “Let’s just start. We’re quickly exhausting Prem’s ability to feed the army and would have been moving on soon. I’m going to send half the army south, moving slowly so we can catch them when—” He stopped, unsure how to continue. When we save her? When we have to leave here because she’s dead? When the Deojrin army from the north descends on us?
“Anyway, with only half the army here we can stay longer. I think we can all agree staying here to see what Lukas does is best for now.”
“It’s been five days since they took her, without a single word from Lukas or Andrzej. What are they waiting for?” Zaraki demanded, glad for an easy opening.
Ani looked around the table, wondering who would recite the lie she thought they had agreed on, but it seemed no one would speak up. Andelko refused to meet her eyes, and Symon shook his head at her. Fine, she thought, angry at their silence. I’ll be the villain again.
“The riders we sent to Andrzej won’t even
have had time to reach him yet, much less return with a response. We need to give it more time,” Ani said, annoyed and feeling too tired to deal with this right now. “We have to be patient. We can’t rush into anything.”
“How long do we wait? A week? A month? How long before we assume Lukas isn’t going to contact us?”
“We wait, all right?” she snapped at him, thinking his questions sounded like accusations. “You’re compromised. Let me handle this.”
Zaraki wanted to shout back, to rage at her that of course he was compromised. He knew the exact moment six years ago that he lost all hope of objectivity when it came to Leisha. Everyone in this room was compromised. No one here could say they did not care about her, did not want to tear Lukas apart for this. But none of that would get him what he wanted.
Instead, trying to sound casual, he said, “So. The preparations you’re making? The things stored in the stables? What are those for?”
Staring at him for a minute, Aniska felt a rush of irritation. Then she rolled her eyes, angry he had led her on and angry at his interference. She knew he had not been out of the keep, but she did wonder what he had seen and how he managed to convince someone to poke around for him.
Why did I ever imagine I could hide it from him? There was no point in lying now.
“Fine. Zaraki, you know what they’re planning. You’ve known all along.” She looked around at Symon and Andelko, who sat back, watching this skirmish unfold. “If they’re not talking to us, they’re talking to Gerolt’s people. They’re going to trade her to him if they haven’t already. She could be on her way to them now, for all we know.” Aniska felt guilty as her words found their mark. She hoped he might storm out and lock himself away so the rescue party could sneak away.
Zaraki knew, of course, what Lukas planned, but he had lied to himself to get through the nights. He lied and told himself the prince chose to draw this out to torment him or that maybe Leisha had freed herself and now tried to find her way back.
Faced with Aniska’s words now, he thought he might go mad. They would trade his beautiful wife to a man who threatened to paint his name in her blood. After saving her from so many threats, he had delivered her personally to her enemies—a gift wrapped in blue silk. Hands clenched into fists on the table as he tried to heed Symon’s words. Don’t think. Stay in control, be a king.
Drawing a breath, he refused to let her manipulate him. “So, the things in the stables?” he asked again.
Ani rubbed her tired eyes, wondering if she was just too tired to outmaneuver him today. Hoping he would see sense, she allowed him a few details. “We have a plan. I’m taking a few people and we’ll get her back.”
“Then I’m coming.” Zaraki dared her to deny him. He would do something rather than sit here and watch his entire world crumble to dust around him.
All along Aniska had hoped to avoid this confrontation. He was as bull-headed as Leisha, and no one else in the room ever wanted to speak against him. Zaraki could argue with Leisha, Aniska could argue with Zaraki. Now, even Symon, the peacemaker of their little family, refused to take her side. Thus, the responsibility to keep her friend and her king from running off and getting himself killed fell on her. “No, you’re not. We’ve all discussed it. You’re king and with her gone, you’re her voice. You’re needed here.”
“I’m coming,” he said again. She rolled her eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. Even in childhood, this had been his way of ending the discussion.
“This is my job and I get to say who comes. You, of all people, know the rules. I’m not having you compromise this, Zaraki. I want Jan, Eli, Eamon and Irion there.”
Jumping to his feet, he slammed his hands down on the table. “I don’t give a damn what you say, Aniska,” he roared at her, finally finding a target for all his pent-up rage, tired of being handled and managed. “I don’t give a damn about who is king or who’s in charge of this job. That is my wife they’re holding. No one in this room knows what they’ve done to her since they’ve had her. I will be there.”
Ani shoved her chair back and opened her mouth, but Andelko cut her off, sick of their bickering and blindness. “Shut up!” he bellowed as shocked faces stared back at him. “Shut up both of you. You’ve both lost your fabled objectivity.” He turned angry eyes on Zaraki. “You, stop using this as an excuse to act like an asshole. We all want the same thing here. Stop thinking she’s your adversary.”
Now he turned to glare at Ani. “And you. I’ve told you no one blames you for this. No one. Stop being so goddamn rigid and defensive. Stop trying to manage him and start working together.” He watched as Zaraki lowered himself back into his chair, still angry and indignant.
“Symon and I have already talked, and we figured it would come to this. You’re both so goddamn stubborn. Now, we’re leaving, and you two are staying in here until you work this out and come out friends. One foot out the door without hugs and smiles and I’ll lock you both in a cell together. Figure this out.” Jabbing at the table, he punctuated each word angrily.
Andelko stalked out, leaving Symon to trail in his wake. The door slammed shut and a key turned in the lock.
The two Ostravans stared at the other, waiting to see who would give in first. Zaraki felt all his anger leaking away, knowing Andelko had the right of it, knowing he had let his sorrow and frustration get the better of him. He should have just talked to her. Sagging, he suddenly felt so tired and wrung out after days of trying to stay composed. “He’s right, you know? No one blames you.”
“That’s fine,” Aniska snapped. “I carry enough blame to make up for it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stood rigid, refusing to accept his comfort.
“Ani, don’t,” he sighed, thinking he did not have it in him to fix this right now as his head fell into his hands.
“Why not?” she asked, looking up and away, trying to blink back her traitorous tears. “If I don’t save her, you’ll take a horse and go hunting for death. You won’t stop until you find it. So go on,” she demanded. “Tell me how I shouldn’t feel responsible.”
The words struck like fists. Ashamed, Zaraki cursed himself and his selfishness, realizing of course she suffered, of course she worried about him. Shoving himself out of the chair, he walked around the table and hugged her.
“We’re not going to think like that,” he said fiercely. “You’re going to go to Embriel and you’re going to save her.”
They were children again, frightened and sad, clinging to one another because they had no one else. Ani relented and leaned forward into his solid warmth. Damn him. “He’s right,” she whispered finally. “I’ve run roughshod over you because I’m feeling defensive and responsible and like I have to manage everything. I feel like I failed you both. I just worried you would think with you heart instead of your head. I’m sorry.”
“And I did nothing to dispel that. I’m sorry I’ve made it hard for you. It wasn’t my intention. I wanted to be angry at someone and you were a convenient target.” His voice broke. “Ani, I know you can do this. I know you’ll save her, but please, please let me come with you. She needs me.”
Aniska nodded against his shoulder. “We have a good plan. Ladvik helped us. I can certainly use another sword.” Looking up at him, she said, “If you think you can follow orders, you’re welcome to come.”
“Of course. Even compromised, I can kill Lukas,” Zaraki joked, feeling some of the tension he had carried start to evaporate.
“Are we going to have to draw straws to get to see who gets the honors?”
“You’ve never spent time with Lorant,” he said. “He’s even more wretched than Lukas. You may change your mind later.”
“Come on. Let’s go tell them they can unlock the door and then get you kitted out. We’re leaving at first light.”
***
On a small road running between the tiny villages of Bytem and Rybnyk, Tibor spotted something odd. He and the others in his patrol had combed over this part of
the Tymek for almost a week and had not seen anything that looked like that bastard Embriel prince. Now, at this distance, he made out of a band of twenty men, three in black robes, riding hard, heading east. He wondered why their enemy insisted on the black for their slaves when it made it so easy to pick them out.
“We have a band of Deojrin down there.” Tibor pointed them out to his friend.
Petrick squinted and shaded his eyes with a hand. “So we do. Why are they heading east and why so many?” he wondered aloud.
Wondering how best to get his friend onboard, Tibor thought for a long minute before saying anything. “They’re not scouts; they’re not even trying to hide. The road will take them to a couple of crossings if they follow it all the way to the Vinca.” He paused, letting Petrick mull it over. “I’m thinking that’s the party sent to get the queen in Embriel. That’s the only reason for so many of them to be heading that way, through lands we still control.”
They glanced at each other, knowing what this meant. Their captain gave explicit orders before they left Cheylm. Stop riders heading west at all costs, but he cautioned them to leave any others alone. They needed to be alive and whole in the event they did come across a party moving the queen. Picking unnecessary fights might hamper that. But this did not seem like an unnecessary fight.
“I know how to beat them. I’ve done it before,” Tibor said cautiously, feeling out his friend, seeing if he wanted to ignore orders and maybe be a hero today. Many others still shied away from confrontation with the black-robed slaves, but Tibor grew up in the saddle in the north, near where the Vinca sprang from its mother mountain. His people hunted the steppes from horseback.
Petrick looked doubtful. “There are three this time. Have you ever fought three?”
Tibor’s mind raced ahead, seeing the hunt uncoil in front of him. He had not faced three, but he had quick hands and he remembered the way the queen smiled at him in Savne, the way she laughed when he said he could have killed her. He had not faced three before, but he wanted to try.
As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2) Page 22
