A Bird of Sorrow

by Shea Godfrey

  Emmalyn glanced into the shadows for an instant and then returned to her mother.

  “It is called the Queen’s Library for a reason.”

  Emmalyn smiled just a bit and considered the words she would speak.

  “Spit it out, daughter, lest you choke on it.”

  Emmalyn felt the sting of her mother’s tone, though it was not as fierce as it could have been. “Malcolm has committed treason, and worse, in pursuit of his desires. Marteen Salish’s death was a murder committed by Malcolm’s own hand. He meant to kill Darry, and he tried, and she was gravely wounded in the attempt. The only reason she still lives is due to the presence of Bentley Greeves and Etienne Blue. Perhaps he meant to remove Marteen as a witness, I don’t know. I don’t know why he did it. Perhaps because Marteen’s shot did not do the job.”

  Cecelia’s eyes did not waver beneath her words, and so she went ahead.

  “There was a spy in Jacob’s employ…Lord Almahdi de Ghalib of Lyoness, once a great man in his country, but since fallen beneath King Bharjah’s thumb. Jacob offered protection to Lord Almahdi’s family for information on Bharjah and his sons, as and when Lord Almahdi could furnish such details. His family was brought to Arravan for protection, for Bharjah had sold three of Almahdi’s granddaughters into marriage, though they had yet to reach their moonblood.”

  Cecelia’s eyes widened slightly. “Almahdi de Ghalib, Bharjah’s assassin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is his family now?” Cecelia demanded.

  “We are about to find out,” Emmalyn replied. “His family was stolen from beneath Jacob’s protection, and the men charged with watching over them have disappeared. We believe the continued safety of Almahdi’s family was offered in exchange for the killing of King Bharjah.” Emmalyn paused, and then said what needed to be said. “A deal that was struck by the Crown Prince of Arravan.”

  Cecelia blinked and her eyes found Jacob. “How certain are you of this?”

  “If all goes well tonight, and as planned, we shall have our answer,” Jacob told her in his quiet, matter-of-fact voice. “I fear that my men are dead. There were only four people aside from myself, Mother, who knew of the deal that was struck with Lord de Ghalib. Father and Armistad, Grissom Longshanks, and Malcolm.”

  “And your men?”

  “Lewellyn blood to the core.”

  Cecelia’s hand came forward and Emmalyn took it. “Darry?”

  “Marteen’s shot was to the chest, but she has since healed.”

  “You know where they are?”

  Emmalyn saw no surprise in her mother’s expression. “I do.”

  “Where?”

  Emmalyn said nothing and Nina came up beside her. Nina held out a piece of parchment that Emmalyn recognized, and Cecelia took it, reading Jessa’s first missive.

  “Where?” Cecelia demanded, looking up with fierce eyes.

  “I will not tell you that, Mother.”

  Cecelia’s eyes sparked.

  “I will not break their trust. As you can read, trust has already been broken.” Emmalyn felt her anger slide to the surface. “We are lucky that I was told anything at all. Let us not discuss what happened with Aidan McKenna, or that our father swore an oath and did not defend it.”

  “But he could not have known what…what Malcolm would do.”

  “No?” Emmalyn countered. “And yet Jessa did. She saw that his lust for the Jade Throne, and his pandering to Joaquin’s favor, all spoke of a much larger plan. She knew he would not accept that Darrius is her love. Darry knew it, and she made no secret of it. It’s why they were running.”

  “Jessa warned me, Mother,” Jacob said as he came forward. “If there was civil war in Lyoness, Malcolm could make a claim upon the Jade Throne. She predicted this was a possibility.”

  “How?” Cecelia demanded sharply. “Malcolm has no…” Her eyes changed as her mind moved as quickly as always.

  “A grandson of Bharjah’s blood would have a claim,” Jacob said with care. “And in the chaos and death of a drawn-out civil war, the Jade Throne would be more vulnerable than ever, and it will be so for some years to come.”

  For the first time, Cecelia’s eyes were uncertain.

  “She came to me because she was scared,” Jacob continued. “She and Darry are in love, and yet the crown had paid for her. Malcolm offered Bharjah a chance to claim the Blackwood Throne, with the very same bait that Bharjah used in return, the promise of Jessa’s child. A child of the Durand line, a child of the Blackwood and Jade Thrones, with the right to claim either.”

  “And with a son who held a claim upon the Jade Throne, Malcolm would take the lead in dealing with Lyoness, and thus in the King’s Council. He has since packed his own council with second and third sons eager for the taste of something they have not earned,” Emmalyn added. “The Prince’s Council has already taken on new authority, and Mason Jefs and his men now defer and answer to Malcolm’s wishes, his very own personal army. Abel Jefs, his new confidant, has been given a shocking amount of leeway and power to speak in Malcolm’s name. Abel Jefs, his stalwart witness against Bentley Greeves in the murder of Marteen Salish.”

  “And should a son be born of such a union,” Jacob said into the pause, “with Lyoness devastated from war and its aftermath, if a vote was put to the council that Arravan might invade and place a Durand upon the Jade Throne? What Lord would not see this as the greatest opportunity of his life, to plunder such riches and land? A hated enemy finally brought to heel.”

  Wyatt approached. “I’ve seen it, Mother. They dance around the subject, never saying too much, never actually saying the words…But Malcolm promises more than he has access to, or rights to. Mining claims have recently been spoken of, for the black iron that is only found in the Dark Ridge Mountains beyond the border, when our own operations have yet to produce a viable vein of ore. And does Father know that Malcolm seized Lord Humboldt’s lands north of the Blackwood Forest? Humboldt had agreements with the crown for payment of his debts, offering land for the Fourth to use, good land for our soldiers with fresh water and game. We were to build a new outpost there. That land was seized and the deeds given over to Lord Fenton Jefs, lands that he has long sought for his own cattle.”

  “You sit on the Prince’s Council,” Cecelia acknowledged quietly. “I was surprised by that.”

  The room filled with silence and the queen’s gaze fell to the missive she still held.

  “There is more,” Emmalyn told her. “Though perhaps most of all, above all—”

  “There is Jessa,” Cecelia whispered.

  Emmalyn held her mother’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “They must come home,” Cecelia stated. “Darry must testify to what happened.”

  Emmalyn let go of her mother’s hand and took a half step back. “Why? Why would they possibly do that? This family has broken all faith with one of our own. The man who for now will still be Arravan’s king wants her dead. And he has every intention of forcing Jessa into a union that is contrary to the very essence of her heart and desires.” Emmalyn’s anger resurfaced. “Darry has already lost one woman she loved, through deceit and lies. Would you ask her now to come home, so she might make this a bit easier for us? To the house where her own brother would see her dead, and her lover forced to bear him a child against her will?”

  “But it would not be that!” Cecelia spoke with certainty, and Emmalyn could see the reality of her words in her mother’s eyes, brutal and quite clear. “The truth, the truth would out.”

  “Perhaps,” Emmalyn replied in a softer voice. “But it smells a bit, doesn’t it? Like the halls of the Jade Palace must have, on a hot day when tempers were foul and the dogs were hungry.”

  Cecelia blinked at that and her shoulders went back in reaction.

  “I would give almost anything to have Darry back, and for her to take her rightful place in our family once more. The position she has earned over and over again, in acts of love and bravery alike, though it is he
rs by blood regardless. I would have my sister home.” Emmalyn’s throat was tight and she could not keep the emotion from her voice. “My sister, who rode for three days and then traded her favorite new horse, so that my lover might take me to a dance.”

  Cecelia’s tears slipped free once again.

  “But this burden is not hers to bear, it is ours, and I believe that she waits even now.”

  “For what?” Wyatt asked.

  Emmalyn met his eyes. He sounded like the young man he had once been, before he had gone east, before he had become their spy. Before he had learned to lie with his love. “For us to prove that we will do what is right.” She turned back to Cecelia. “I will take my rightful place, Mother, with the support of my brothers. And I will right whatever wrongs I am able to. We did not approach you because you are watched, and Father is under close scrutiny. We would see you subjected to as little pain as possible, though this is ripe with pain no matter how it plays out. When I stand before the King’s Council, I will have all the evidence that is needed in order to rain justice upon your son’s head, and I will do so with full vengeance…For he stood over my sister while she bled at the foot of our father’s throne and boasted of forcing Jessa into his bed.”

  Cecelia closed her eyes. Her silence lasted but a short time. “You will need to be wed.”

  “Royce and I were married by Master Haba Una, in the King’s Chapel within the Temple of Gamar, but a week after Solstice. Nina stood at my side. All protocol was followed, and with additional witnesses. Our marriage was entered into the Book of Durand by the High Priest of Gamar himself, may blessing be upon Master Una.”

  Cecelia opened her eyes and her tears slipped free. “Have you forgotten anything?”

  “Only that I love you as always, my Queen,” Emmalyn replied, the anger gone from her voice. “I love you, Mother, we all do. We have all been careless in this, all save Darry.” She tightened her fingers about Cecelia’s. “And though lovers may be careless, their love itself is never wrong, and it cannot be denied. Darry and Jessa took all precautions. It was we who failed. We saw how he felt, but we did not see what he’s become. We did nothing to stop this. Nothing at all. And in the end, promises that are not kept…they become lies.”

  Cecelia’s expression betrayed her.

  “This is not your fault. This is Malcolm, lost within his lust for power, and his twisted jealousy and hatred of Darry. Help us make this right. When I stand for my rights, I will need you by my side.”

  Cecelia’s tears had dried. “There has not been a ruling queen in Arravan for over three hundred years.”

  “Then I would say it is about bloody fucking time.”

  Cecelia’s eyes sparked, and it was a flash of welcome warmth in her expression.

  Emmalyn nodded and glanced over her right shoulder. “Wyatt?”

  “I’ll stay, go ahead. Landon is waiting at the east gate sally port.” He smiled and his dimples appeared briefly. “Congratulations, by the way. You might have told us.”

  Emmalyn smiled in return. “Thank you, brother.”

  “We need to go,” Jacob said.

  Emmalyn walked to the door, and Nina stepped ahead of her, pulling down one of the two sword belts that hung upon the wall. Emmalyn unhooked the buckle and swung on her sword, the same weapon Darry had given her years ago. Nina hooked on her own sword and they grabbed their cloaks as Jacob opened the door.

  Emmalyn stopped and turned back. “All will be well, Mother.”

  “Go,” Cecelia replied. “And have a care.”

  Cecelia watched as the door closed, and then looked to her youngest son. “How is it that you are left behind?”

  He gave her an easy, charming smile. “I’m the spy, remember?”

  Cecelia made a sound of acknowledgment and approached the table, wanting to sit down. Wyatt moved ahead of her, anticipating her need and swinging a chair about for her. Cecelia took hold of its back, though before she sat, she took in the scope of Emmalyn’s map. “Sweet Gamar,” she commented, her right hand touching the edge of the oiled hide.

  Wyatt stood next to her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. She knows what she’s talking about, as well. She’s a born tactician, Mother.” He set his left hip on the table. “She is a true leader, and she’s been learning the sword with Nina, in the practice tent that my men set up. They admire her in a way I’ve not seen before.”

  Cecelia was comforted by the warmth of his blue eyes. “None of that will stop this from being violent and ugly.”

  “No, it won’t…What about Father?”

  Cecelia felt a shiver of fear, for Owen had not been the same since Sebastian’s Tower. “I think it is time that your king was made party to what is happening here, for he is still your king.”

  Wyatt’s brow lifted. “No one has suggested otherwise,” he responded in his matter-of-fact soldier’s voice. “It is what will happen when he is not our king that is in question.”

  Cecelia studied his familiar handsome face, and how he had aged over the past five years. So much like Owen. “I’m surprised you’ve not run him through, for what he has done.”

  Wyatt’s frown was intense. “I have thought about it,” he replied. “Many times, actually. But justice must be served, and Almahdi’s family has always hung in the balance. I could not live with the blood of children on my hands.” He took a deep breath and then sighed. “And perhaps it will hurt more if he is publicly shamed and charged for his crimes, and his greed. To be stripped of all that he covets, over his own family and honor. It sounds petty when I say it aloud, I know, but I’ve thought of that, too.”

  Cecelia loved him all the more for telling her the truth of his thoughts, despite how deeply they cut.

  “In the end, I suppose, it’s not really my place. Though if I find he has done anything else that might put Darry and her Jessa in danger, everyone will need to stay out of my way. And please remember I have said that, for I will not stop until I have satisfaction.”

  Cecelia sat down, her knees feeling weak. She closed her eyes and sat in the stillness, grateful for the warmth of her son beside her. When Wyatt took her hand and held it, the simple gesture eased her heart more than she would’ve thought possible.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  A rush of heat pushed through Darry’s body in a wanton manner, and she heard laughter that was filled with passion and secrets. Her lips were desperate for the name amidst all of the names that flooded over her tongue and into her lungs.

  “No…” Tannen whispered.

  There was the cool sway of grass beneath her hands, and the scent of the earth, the absolute calm it brought with it washing the names from her mouth. Her heart was content and she drifted as if in sleep. She felt the warmth of the furs against her skin and a tender kiss upon her lips.

  “No…” Tannen whispered.

  Darry took in the scent of oranges, and the light scent of rabbit cooking above the fire.

  “Here.” She felt Tannen’s breath against her face. “Do not ever forget!”

  Adal de Hinsa mumbled as she dug in the large leather trunk, objects falling against each other as she searched in a frantic manner. Pallay ran in a circle about the front table, her tongue hanging from the side of her mouth as her powerful hind legs sought to overtake the rest of her body.

  Tannen covered her mouth with both hands at the sight of it, trying to shove her laughter back inside. Pallay tried to stop and one of her back legs slipped to the side, her hip hitting the floor. Pallay slid wildly, and the sound of her claws scrambling upon the worn wood mingled with her mother’s shout as she threw a handful of Tannen’s clothes over her shoulder. Adal spun upon her knees as Pallay crashed into the cooking pots, on her side as her legs flailed in the air.

  Her mother’s unrestrained laughter filled the room as Pallay kicked and scrambled and jumped back up. Adal held out the battered rag doll as Pallay’s front legs slid out and she ducked her head low, her hindquarters still in the air as her tail swu
ng in a wild fashion.

  “You will never possess this, it is mine!” Adal promised and then laughed as Pallay shot across the room. They tangled together and Pallay licked her mother’s face in a frenzied manner, the weight of her body taking Adal to the floor as the red wolf tasted of Adal’s mouth and face. Her mother’s legs kicked against the floor as she wrestled the red wolf to the side amidst the scrambling of claws and the sound of yips and laughter.

  Hashiki slid past Tannen’s legs and into the room, the long leather flap of the door swinging behind them as she entered.

  Adal looked up, still holding Pallay in her arms, the wolf draped across her body with the rag doll in her jaws. One ear was held straight up, while the other was flopped to the side.

  Pallay slipped free as Adal’s arms loosened and the wolf sat down in a casual manner. She dropped the toy, her eyes intense upon Hashiki as the lynx slowly lifted a front paw. Pallay leaned down and pushed the doll forward with her long nose.

  “You are very far away!” Adal laughed happily.

  Hashiki ran forward, grabbing at the toy as she slid into Pallay’s front legs. The wolf let her run for a heartbeat or two, and then she gave chase. Hashiki leaped the low table completely and Pallay followed, her back feet knocking a plate to the floor where it broke. Tannen fell into her mother’s arms, and the sound and warmth of her mother’s laughter filled her body with happiness.

  “Where have you been, my girl?” Adal demanded and kissed Tannen’s face.

  Tannen rolled onto her mother’s lap and was content as she looked up at her, her mother’s arms strong about her upper body. “I was playing white stones and black stones with Destry.”

  “Uh!” Adal’s eyes went wide. “Did you win?”

  “No,” Tannen answered with a smile. “I tried to break his three rows.”

  Adal frowned. “This mistake you make, you keep making it.”

  “But it should work.”

  “That does not mean it ever will, my daughter…He knows you will try. You fall into his trap every time.”