A Heart of Blood and Ashes

by Milla Vane

  Perhaps it was not a wise lesson to learn, placing a weapon into the hand of a woman angry with him. But if it meant seeing her smile, he was fool enough to shower her in blades. “Is that why your mother disapproved of me, then—because I freed the Farians?”

  “No.” Her amusement faded. “She called you idealistic and foolish. But she also said you made the hardest decision that can ever be made: doing what is right and good, while knowing how painful the consequences might be. But you did not make someone else take responsibility for those consequences. You were the first volunteer to return to the Lave, and to mount a defense against them.”

  So Maddek had been. He’d felt no guilt for freeing the savages. He never would. But he’d recognized his role in what followed, and had thought to give the southern realms time to rebuild their own defenses, so they would not need a Parsathean army at their southern borders.

  That hope had been as strong as the hope that, when he’d held out his hand, perhaps the Farians would not see them as demons and continue their savage attacks. Neither hope had come to fruition. But hope had not been his reason for freeing them, or his reason for returning to defend the Lave. Both decisions were simply what he felt must be done.

  “Why then did she advise you against me?”

  She drew a deep breath. “You are certain you want to hear?”

  He frowned. “Are they words best left unsaid?”

  “I know not. I only know that they are not easy words.”

  “I will stand firm,” he told her, and amusement flashed over her expression before she nodded.

  Her hand cupping his jaw again, she said, “It was because you have never lost.”

  Never lost? That made no sense.

  She must have seen his confusion because she tried again. “You have never been defeated. And I do not refer to small competitions with other warriors. You are a fine sport. But you have never suffered true loss or defeat.”

  That was what her mother had seen? Then Queen Vyssen had not watched carefully. “I have lost warriors under my command, have lost friends—”

  “You have,” Yvenne agreed softly.

  “My parents,” he gritted out. “My queen and king, whom I loved with my full heart. Your mother was already dead when your father murdered them, so she could not have seen who I was in response to that. Do you think I have not lost anything?”

  “I know you have lost those you have loved,” she said. “But have you ever been defeated?”

  Chest heaving, Maddek searched her face as if he might find answer there. But he could not think of a defeat. Not a significant one. He rasped, “I have not been defeated. That is a fault?”

  “It is not.”

  “Then what reason—”

  “You must remember,” she told him, combing her fingers along his bearded jaw, “my mother had seen Syssia crushed. She’d seen her beloved mother become a demon that she herself had to slay. She had seen Anumith the Destroyer bring everyone to their knees. And then she was poisoned and betrayed, a warrior-queen born but with her body so weakened she could only watch as my father razed Syssia’s noble houses and as he ground our people beneath his heel. And in that time, she watched everyone as they recovered from the Destroyer’s march. She believed that was when you truly learned someone’s character—after they’d been broken. When they lost someone they’d loved, and everything they’d known was destroyed. When they’d been brought so low, they might never rise again. And when they do rise, then whatever reason they find to keep going, to claw their way up, to crawl to their feet—she believed that reason would reveal who they truly were. She said that she didn’t know who you truly were.”

  Jaw clenched, he stared at her. Did Yvenne also not know who he was? But he thought she did. She had seen him in the Farian caves, and had chosen him to wed. She had seen him in the years that followed, as he commanded an army upon the Lave. And she had seen him now, full of grief and rage and vengeance.

  His throat was raw as he asked, “Have you known defeat?”

  A sad smile touched her mouth. “Over and over again. The only victory I have known so far is that I persuaded you not to kill me, and finally have the opportunity to escape my father and claim my throne. And it is not even a victory yet in full.”

  “It will be,” he vowed thickly. “What made you rise to your feet again?”

  “Love for my people. Rage against my father.” She paused. “Hope.”

  All of which Maddek shared with her. “Perhaps I have not known crushing defeat. But I have known difficulty and loss. I have known grief that tore my heart from my chest. If you must judge who I am, use that.”

  “The vengeance you pursue for your parents?”

  He nodded.

  “I think you do them honor,” said she.

  “But I might have done them dishonor.” He saw that clearly now. “If I had torn the alliance apart, after they spent so much of their lives building it.”

  She said nothing, but the tilt of her lips and the thumb she slid across the width of his bottom lip said enough.

  And now she had been tasked to strengthen that alliance—and to make it grow. “How far did your mother see? How many realms have you watched?”

  “Countless. Some near, some far.”

  “All the western realms?”

  She nodded again.

  “That is why Vela chose you, then. Because you know the characters of so many within those realms—as you knew Cadus. You know who will stand firm, who will only speak platitudes. You know who might already be corrupted, who cannot be trusted.”

  A laugh shook her. “I do not know all of that. And those who are corrupted have done well concealing themselves, I think.”

  Still, her mother had seen so much. Even that Maddek would please her in bed. When Yvenne had first said so the night at the inn, he’d mistaken her intent and almost taken her tongue. Little thought had he given the claim beyond that. He had not believed it of much importance. Yet Yvenne had mentioned his ability to please her again today—had mentioned it to a goddess.

  “One reason you gave Vela in defense of your choice was that I saw to your pleasure.”

  “So you do. I would not take a husband who did not.” She bit her lip—not in shyness, he thought, but in hunger. “I like that you see to mine so well, even while you ease your own need.”

  Ease his need? Not yet had Maddek been able to. It mattered not how many times he tasted her. It mattered not how many times he spilled his seed. His hunger for her had not eased. Instead it consumed him.

  “This night I will truly see to your pleasure, Yvenne.” He cupped her breast again, lightly pinched her nipple. “But not as I have been.”

  Her breath shuddered. “No?”

  Fisting his hand in her hair, he tilted her head and bent his mouth to her rapidly beating pulse. “So deep inside you I will be.”

  His name she breathed, a sound of pure need. With a growl of hunger, he tasted the delicate skin of her neck. She trembled in response, her fingers clutching his shoulders, holding him tight.

  Not as tightly as her cunt would hold his cock that night. His lips skimmed down her neck. “So long and hard I will have you.”

  She moaned, arching her back in silent offering, her ruby nipples raised to his mouth.

  Against the softness of her small breast he vowed, “So many times I will make you spend.”

  “Now, Maddek,” she pleaded, rocking her hips. “Please.”

  Only the last could he give her now. Hungrily he sucked her hardened nipple into his mouth. His hand glided up her silky inner thigh, and he groaned when fingers found her already so hot and wet.

  Perhaps he did not yet have the heart of a king. But that day, when his bride cried his name and came upon his tongue, he felt like one.

  CHAPTER 26

  YVENNE

&nb
sp; The trek from the Queen’s Nest to the prince’s chambers carried Yvenne and Maddek through terraced paths, and then along the colonnades that served as open corridors through the palace. Behind them were Danoh and Banek, serving as their guard for the evening.

  Riding a horse might have taken them to dinner more quickly than Yvenne’s slow walk, but a long bath had loosened her stiff knee and she liked that the distance gave her more opportunity to prepare Maddek.

  “Only eat and drink what is prepared in front of you,” she said. “Or something that you have seen my brother also eat.”

  “You think he will poison me, though it might risk you?”

  If she ate or drank from Maddek’s plate and cup, as lovers often did. Nothing her brother did might surprise Yvenne. But Bazir would not come all this way to kill her. “A sleeping potion would make his plans easier. But what I’ve told you is good practice at any table.”

  She felt Maddek’s gaze upon her at that. She wondered if ever he had worried that he would be poisoned as he ate. She thought it was unlikely. Not when so many of his meals were roasted on a fire in front of him.

  “Do not touch him or go near him,” she said. “He’s not likely foolish enough to attack you in front of witnesses, but he might risk a sly poisoned blade.”

  Maddek grunted dismissively. “Every time he speaks, he uses a poisoned blade.”

  “I think you underestimate how deeply that blade might cut. He will speak lies framed by truth, so that the picture he paints is more believable.”

  “I know his sly tongue.”

  “He will try to provoke you into attacking him in front of witnesses. Do not let him.”

  “I will not be provoked.”

  “Tyzen told me how you leapt over the table in the council’s chambers.”

  Maddek grinned. “So I did.”

  Though she had thrilled to Tyzen’s description of Maddek’s focused fury and Bazin’s scrambling retreat, now worry held her in too tight a grip to return his grin. “He will use your parents to elicit a reaction here, too.”

  “He might succeed. But I am no brainless warrior, Yvenne, easily bestirred to violence. Leaping over the table was no impulsive attack—I had deliberate intention of killing him. When enraged, less impulsive I become.”

  “And more narrow-sighted.” Focused and intransigent, and stubbornly married to his view.

  He gave her an unreadable glance. “That is as my mother used to say.”

  Pain slipped under her breast, followed by anger of her own. Because still he would not rescind his vow or accept that she had never lied to him. Firmly entrenched he was in the first view he’d had of her, a picture colored by his rage and grief, when he’d been so certain he saw the truth of who she was despite never allowing her to speak it.

  “That is not sly tongue,” she defended hotly. “I have observed it for myself.”

  “So you have,” he said with a wry smile. “And my mother would have called it cockbrained—because a cock only has one eye, and is rigid when enflamed.”

  She knew he meant to make her laugh, but the lingering anger and pain would not let her. In silence they walked along a colonnade overlooking the sea. Orange and pink stained the sky, mirrored in the waters below. So well she loved this palace. All was open. After many years in her tower, when Yvenne returned to Syssia, she knew not if she could tolerate being always surrounded by walls again.

  “What is your new perfume?” Maddek asked suddenly.

  “A soap from the bath.” Soft and fragrant with coconut oils. “You wore the silks?”

  For the prince had gifted them both with clean robes to wear. The turquoise silks she wore now had been sewn in the Gogean style, with tighter sleeves and layered skirts. Maddek also wore the new silks—but wore them as he had his red linens, folded over his belt. Yet she had not expected him to wear them at all.

  “For this night,” he said.

  For her moon night? Or simply because they attended a royal dinner? He had bathed, too, and unbound his braids. His hair hung heavy and wet, as if he wore even more silk loose around his shoulders. In all that luxury, he ought not look as dangerous. Yet he did. He wore no sword or armor, but still an expanse of powerful muscle was on display, and his leisurely stroll seemed as quietly lethal as a long-toothed cat’s.

  Flushed with heat, she looked forward. They were nearing the prince’s chambers, so no time could she waste ogling her would-be husband—and another warning still needed to be given.

  She had not wanted to say this to Maddek, for he and the Tolehi minister were friendly and had served together in the march against Stranik’s Fang. Yet it must be said. “Do not look to Gareth as an ally.”

  Maddek’s face darkened in a frown. “He is a good man.”

  “He is. But he has spent at least a tennight with my brother upon the road. We cannot know what poison Bazir has told him and how it will influence his view of us.”

  His firm lips twitched. “As your words have influenced my views?”

  “I have told you nothing but truth.”

  There his smile died, but he said nothing as they reached the prince’s apartments. She was not surprised that they were led to the prince’s private solar, where they could dine in a less formal setting than a royal hall. Cadus would stand firm, but he also liked smooth progression, and he would hope to ease tensions.

  The two Parsathean guards did not enter the solar and would wait outside that chamber until Yvenne and Maddek emerged. Already present were Bazir and Gareth.

  With heavy heart, she saw that her brother had already worked not only on Gareth but also on Cadus. So different was the prince’s manner—still polite, yet now wary. He introduced her to the Tolehi minister, who regarded her in the same way.

  She had thought it would be Maddek whom Bazir would turn them against. But she should have known. As a disciple of Tolehi reason, Gareth would be more persuaded by what was seen with his own eyes, and a brother would have seen a sister more than he would have seen an alliance commander who had spent the better part of ten years upon the Lave. Almost any lie Bazir could say about her, however. That she was of unsound mind, prone to fantasy. That she was bloodthirsty and murderous, fell to fits and rages, and had been locked away for her own protection. Whatever the affliction of her brain that he chose, Bazir would claim that her existence had never been acknowledged because a mad queen upon the throne would endanger all of Syssia and the alliance.

  They were led out onto a balcony, where a low table surrounded by plump sofas and cushions waited beneath an airy tent. The sound of the waves and scent of the sea filled the air. Breezes fluttered through the transparent curtains.

  It was not yet sunset, but the sun was sinking over the western horizon, painting the sky in brilliant orange. Never had Yvenne seen anything of the like, yet she could not bask in the beauty before her. Not when the danger her brother posed was so near. She would be a fool to take her eyes from him.

  Cadus indicated that they settle at the table, which was shaped in a deep crescent that allowed everyone a view of the sea and of each other. The prince sat at the head, facing full west. Maddek took the seat between her and the prince. Gareth and Bazir sank into the cushions at the other side.

  She was glad to see the fish brought in and prepared nearby—their meal still flopping as it went beneath the cook’s knife and onto the coals. She caught Maddek’s eye and grinned.

  “You will not leave so hungry now, I think,” he said.

  She sat opposite Bazir and gave him a thin smile as he sipped from a goblet of wine, looking pleased with himself. As well he might be. “What lies did you tell them, brother?” she asked lightly. “They look at me as if I am a demon incarnate.”

  There was suddenly such delicate frozen wariness in the prince’s and minister’s expressions, Yvenne realized she had aimed perfectly without even intending
.

  And Bazir was clever and persuasive but had not much original thought. In his attack tonight, he likely meant to copy their father’s way of discrediting Maddek’s father—and now Bazir copied the story that Zhalen had used to destroy every strong house within Syssia.

  “Is that the tale you spun to them?” She laughed and addressed the prince and Gareth, who sat nearer to each other. “When asked why he kept his sister imprisoned in the tower, he must have spun the same lie our father did after he poisoned our mother. For our father claimed that after our mother slew the demon who reanimated Queen Venys, the demon then possessed her. But now the story is that I am the possessed daughter.”

  With a heavy sigh, Bazir sank deeper into his cushion, regarding her with a sorrowful stare that he could only hold a moment before averting his eyes and addressing Cadus and Gareth. “I told you that she would use truth to speak lies.”

  Eating his fish with his fingers, Maddek grunted beside her, a sound of deep laughter—as if amused that her brother gave them the same warning she’d given him.

  Bazir’s gaze shot to him. Leaning forward, he said in a grave voice, “I have already told the others what happened to our beloved mother. But you have been in Yvenne’s presence these many days and under her influence, so it is no surprise that you take her side. You and I have no love for each other, but listen and you will see how she has twisted truth.”

  “Do not open your ears to him, Maddek. Nothing he says will deserve the respect of your hearing,” Yvenne said, and knew the frustration of even that sounding, through her brother’s frame, as if she feared that Maddek might see through her deceptions.

  Eyes gleaming, Bazir knew it, too. “You do not want him to hear how it was our mother who took the poison herself, so that if the demon inside her gained hold of her, it would never have the strength that her demon-queen mother did? Years she spent battling that evil inside her, locking herself away to keep safe her sons and her people—and my father ruled with her blessing.”