Knight devoted, p.3
Knight Devoted, page 3
He always seemed to know everything, in spite of every attempt she made to hide. Time and again, he saw through it all and then some, to what she might someday become. He could predict her better than she could herself.
“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging. Perhaps there was one other ploy she could try. “Some mead then, while we wait?” She broke away from his stare, moving to her cabinet where three elegant bottles waited. She yanked out a cork, then picked up a small pewter tumbler.
Usually, he’d have slid into the armchair at that point, looking for opportunities to twist a knife. But it seemed he knew this one had passed. Now, though, a shadow fell over her shoulder, then she saw his reflection in the smooth silver of the pewter tray and glasses.
He was right behind her.
“What do you want?” she asked. The mildness in her voice wasn’t quite there. She sounded nervous. She concentrated on pouring.
“Did you hear there was news from Kavanar?” He was so close, his breath brushed the back of her neck.
“I heard murmurs. What of it?” She forced herself to turn to face him and held out the glass he’d never agreed to.
Delight and malevolent amusement danced in his eyes. She swallowed, tried to take a step back, and hit the cabinet. She pushed the glass harder at him.
He snorted. “I should think you would care to hear of your people’s victory.”
“Are we taking part in the war now?” The words came out more mocking than sincere, more to say you-can’t-catch-me-that-easily rather than any claim at true naivete. Might as well drive it home. “Aren’t my people your people too? Is this a celebratory drink then?”
He chuckled and finally accepted the tumbler, though he cast a suspicious gaze at it. If only she truly did have something to slip into the mead to lull him to sleep. But if such a potion existed, she had no idea how one would acquire it, nor did she have anyone to ask about such dark secrets. Her friends had been the birds, the mice, the squirrels, the owls, Javarin—mostly creatures of the light.
Not tricksters like her brother. She didn’t know that world.
But she was about to learn.
The moment he started to take a sip, she thrust the bottle at him and lunged for the inner door to her bedroom.
The sound of the tumbler falling, glass shattering, and mead sloshing barely reached her ears before his iron grip clamped down on her arms. She shrieked without meaning to, then twisted, trying to free herself from his grasp.
He wrenched back her arms, pushing her further into the suite. The same way she’d been running. Her shoulder sockets screamed, and her cry was louder this time.
The sight of her pain had always only driven Alekur to inflict further tortures. She’d learned that long ago, but her voice belonged more to her body than her mind at the moment. There was barely any thought in her head, anyway. Only pain and him pushing her farther forward.
He flung her body onto the ivory quilt of the bed, which was lucky, considering the floor was stone. She tried to tuck into a ball, but he wrenched one arm against the small of her back, then the other. Rope dug in at her wrists, tight as bands of iron but brutally rough. Her ankles were next, and she fought him despite the futility of it. Perhaps she delayed him a second or two, but mostly, it simply earned her the reward of hearing his delighted laughs. He wasn’t satisfied until he’d fastened both to a bedpost.
He was as cruel as he was thorough. If she could have gotten to her feet, even while tied, there were scissors on her dresser. She could try to cut the bonds. As it was, she didn’t see much hope for moving at all, let alone cutting her way out. Wiggling? Gnawing?
Perhaps the animals—but no. He was closing the shutters, bolting them with a smug smile. “Oh, no, your little friends aren’t getting you out of this one.”
There had to be a way. Had to be. Alekur couldn’t win. She had to find some way through it. If she didn’t, she’d die here.
Her arms ached, but she put all her effort into blinking away the tears of frustration that were far more intense than the pain.
By Nefrana. She’d been so close.
And yet never really close at all. She shouldn’t have waited so long. It had been fear, really, that had kept her here. Fear and love. Why had she delayed? Was she waiting for a signal? For a rider from Kavanar? She should have thrown caution to the wind, not worried about a map, just picked a day and a direction, and started running.
She’d known what Alekur wanted—what the queen wanted—for a long time. She could’ve run any time, but she’d hung on, let them tighten their noose.
But how could she leave? It wasn’t as simple as getting a horse and taking off. Fears from her past rose to the surface of her mind, like a rising tide she couldn’t escape. She’d nearly died, that first time she’d ever mounted a horse.
The creature had been a glorious black stallion, new to the castle and fit for a royal, the stable master had said. A king himself. She’d barely coaxed the stallion a few hundred yards before Alekur—true to form—had pointed his own, much steadier mount straight at her, galloping full speed.
The anger and alarm in the stallion had coursed through her veins, their minds connecting briefly, and she was lucky she’d survived the fall after the horse threw her off and into the dirt. Her bones had ached for weeks. Later, she’d seen the stable master struggling with the same massive beast, doing his best to calm the anxious creature. If he couldn’t handle the stallion, why had she been expected to?
The experience had shaken her to her core, though, and had kept her from ever trying again, keeping her distance from all horses really, as much as she adored most animals.
Conquering that fear seemed insurmountable, but so did crossing the continent on foot. Now, in hindsight, she wondered… Had that been Alekur’s intent all along—to scare her away from horses, to keep her trapped under his thumb? Or had it just been his usual sadism?
Still, it wasn’t Alekur’s fault she hadn’t run. At least—not entirely. It had been hard to accept that the time to leave it all behind was now, to risk her life out in the big, wide world, to never see him again… No, she wouldn’t hang this delay on Javarin. It had been her decision to make, and she’d miscalculated it. She’d been afraid.
And now she would pay the price.
Alekur gave the ropes around her wrists a good tug, sending a shot of pain through her shoulders, muffling her cry of pain against the quilt. Smiling, he stood back, hands on his hips as if admiring a hard day’s work.
“I hope you’re happy,” she spat at him.
“Oh, I am.”
“I don’t want to be queen, you know. And I never will. Your animosity toward me is ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
The way he scanned her as she lay there sent a chill into her belly. She’d tried her best to avoid his attention, his appraisals, anything, but the darker fears that had crept into her thoughts some nights reared their heads now, slipping into the forefront of her mind, out into the light.
He stepped closer and ran a finger from her cheekbone toward her chin. She jerked her face away, not that she could really escape him.
At this, he grinned again.
“It’s not baseless,” he said simply, to her surprise. “If you’d like to be naive about it, by all means.”
“I’m not naive.”
“Ah, but you are. Because in this world, what you want doesn’t matter. Haven’t you noticed?”
Her nostrils flared, even as she had to admit he was right. That didn’t mean she had to acknowledge it to him, though.
His grin broadened, and he waited a beat. “What your future husband wants is what matters. While you live, you could sire a rival, or even wed one, if they’re deft enough. Did you think all kings are born to the throne? Perhaps that’s how they’re handed the crown, but it’s not how they keep it.”
“If you were a good leader, they wouldn’t be able to take the throne from you. You’re afraid of ghosts and shadows.”
“I’m a student of history. It’s happened far more than once.”
She scowled at him. “Send me to a temple then. A monastery. Do you really think I care? I just want to be left alone.”
“Left alone with your little… hobbies? No, we can’t have that. You’ve drawn far too much attention already.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Send me to a temple—I’ll renounce any birthright.”
“Ah, but we both know that wouldn’t work, don’t we? Temples don’t take mages like you. Except to kill them.”
She should have denied it, but perhaps it was too late for that. Or perhaps she was just tired of pretending. “What do you care? Wash your hands of me, then. Leave it to what the goddess wills.”
He chuckled, as if her naïveté delighted him. “Really. Do you think these hands are clean?” He raised up his perfectly manicured hands, flipped so she could see the palms, then the backs, then laughed. “Far from it. And I don’t mind getting my hands dirty to have a little fun.”
“A little fun. That’s what I am to you?”
“No,” he snapped. “Pay attention, dear sister. You’re a rival, and you’re not a bastard, so your piece must be removed from the board. Especially before you’ve drawn too much attention and they wonder what happened to that princess of Brusidal? Couldn’t someone wed her? No, no. Mother’s plan for you is far superior to the idea of any foreign suitor.”
Her brow furrowed. “What plan?”
“You’ll just have to wait and find out. You know, it’s too bad you won’t live to lose your maidenhood. You’ll have to settle for bleeding as though you did.” He shrugged, mocking, as he stood. “Farewell, dear sister.”
She lifted her chin and refused to acknowledge his taunts. Not knowing what they had in store, she’d rather not say anything she’d later regret.
Smiling, he waved as he shut the door to her room. The key turned in the lock, and then she heard him yell from the outer room. “You there—woman! The princess is truly distraught over the news of Kavanar’s disgrace. She wants not to be disturbed for the rest of the day. No, no food. I do believe she has cried herself to sleep, so leave the sweet creature be. Yes, leave her be and tell the others as well.”
“I’ll see to it, my lord,” a woman’s voice murmured.
She sighed into the eerie silence. She was finally alone. Deeply and truly and utterly alone. But alone for how long? Who would he send next and when?
If she could escape these bonds, she could still try to run.
Chapter 5
Queen’s Orders
Alekur finally arrived in the royal meeting chambers, smelling of mead and looking disheveled. He’d left Javarin waiting about a half an hour but had refused all requests to sit down. Now, he simply shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for Alekur to get on with it. Something about the sunny smile on the crown prince’s face made his stomach clench.
The prince, however, made a show of selecting a glass from the nearby cabinet and pouring two very full glasses of mead. He held out one glass, and Javarin obligingly accepted. He rarely drank, so he’d have to be cautious, but he also couldn’t turn down the prince’s demands.
Then the prince slumped into a chair and held up his glass in a toast. Jav mirrored the gesture and permitted himself a sip.
“This is some of the finest mead this side of the Southern Kingdoms.” Taking another long, studied drink, the prince pinned him with his eyes over the glass. “Can you tell?”
Javarin shrugged. “I’m not a connoisseur of anything, sire. I don’t drink. Can’t much afford it. Just a simple knight.”
“Ah, yes. I believe you were abandoned at the temple, is that right?”
He resisted the urge to jut out his jaw and simply said, “Yes.”
“And raised there?”
“Yes. And as such, I’ve not had much of the finer things in life. Which suits me fine, sire.”
One of Alekur’s eyebrows twitched. “Does it?”
Javarin frowned and took a calculated risk. “I was told I was summoned here for orders. A knight need not be persuaded or bought, surely you know that, my lord.”
“Obviously.” The tone of Alekur’s voice suggested it wasn’t obvious to all.
Javarin’s frown deepened. “Well then. If you want to give me an order, sir, do it.”
A smile slowly lit Alekur’s face, and he felt sure the risk had paid off. “Ah, but let me savor this moment, will you? Take another drink.”
Javarin hid his sigh and obliged again. He hadn’t swallowed much, but if this was mead, it seemed especially strong. His throat burned.
Alekur’s smile widened. “I appreciate a straightforward man. So I’ll be straightforward with you in return.” He paused to take another long drink, poured more, then waited.
“Is this straightforward?” Jav asked. The mead was going down too fast, but this twisted conversation was making it hard not to sip. “You’re not saying anything, my lord.”
Alekur laughed softly. “Just taking it all in. Isn’t that what Nefrana teaches? Gratitude? Being present in the current moment?”
“Of course, my lord.”
He was grinning now. “I’ll make you a deal. Finish that, I’ll pour you another, and we’ll have at it.”
Now Jav did sigh. “Yes, my lord.” He downed the rest of it, eyes watering, and handed the glass back. He let out a cough.
“Rough stuff, isn’t it? Burns. I don’t know why they consider it so fine. The northern meads are better, but we don’t have any since the war started. Now, we’ll need all new trade agreements.” He sighed. “Here you go. Drink.”
He already felt hot, and like the room was a little wobbly, but he complied. Orders were orders. If Alekur wanted to, he could probably order Javarin to drink till he passed out. A disturbing thought, actually. He could see the prince trying it.
The prince refilled his glass and returned to his seat. “All right. Straightforward. Are you ready?”
“As ever, my lord.”
“Your orders, then.” He grinned. “Might want to take one more drink for this one. You will kill the Princess Iseris and bring my mother a vial of her blood.”
He choked on the mead and barely managed not to spit it out. “Pardon, sire?” Surely, he’d heard that wrong.
“It is approved by the king, planned by the queen, and the order given on my command. The princess is to die. Tonight.”
“Why?” he blurted, knowing he shouldn’t have, but Alekur didn’t seem surprised at the question, though maybe a little affronted.
“Because the princess is a mage, my friend.”
For a moment, Javarin just stared. Blinked a few times.
“The recent developments in Kavanar have shown that mages indeed cannot be trusted. They can, however, seize power from us and rule for themselves, if their evil is not kept in check. The danger they pose is not to be underestimated.”
Iseris could not… Iseris could not be…
“She talks to animals,” Alekur said mildly. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed it, but you’d be in the minority. Ask anyone in the castle. It’s commonly accepted as fact.”
“Talks to… Are you sure, sire?” That was the most articulate thought he could manage.
“Very. Not that it should matter to you. Orders are orders, aren’t they? And as you said, you needn’t be bought.”
Jav glanced down at the glass, his stomach suddenly queasy, and quickly sat the mead on the nearest end table.
“No, no. I think you are going to need to finish that. Here. Take the whole bottle. Go on now, good knight.” Alekur grabbed the bottle, thrust it at him, then let out a puff of laughter. “Go on. Do your duty.”
Automatically, Jav rose to go. His legs were moving on their own, telling him to keep obeying his orders, even as his mind was frozen with shock. It just… couldn’t be.
“Oh, and I laid her out nicely for you. Do have some fun before the end. Just be sure to get the deed done and the proof before morning. But the night? There’s no rush.”
Jav went still at those words, just short of the door. He turned his head slightly, almost a twitch. Had he heard what he thought he was hearing?
“Did you hear me, knight?”
“Yes, sire,” he said quickly. “But I’m not sure I understand.”
“Oh, don’t feign innocence. I’ve seen you wanting her.”
That took a minute to sink in, but he didn’t try to deny it. He ought to, but he couldn’t figure out what to say. His thoughts were blurred, whirling. Slowly, he turned ever so slightly, to look over his pauldron at the prince. His voice was rough, barely audible when he spoke. “Is that why you chose me?”
“It is, as a matter of fact.” Alekur grinned, eyes glinting. “You’re a sharp one.”
“That’s cruel.”
“No, it’s not,” Alekur shot back, utterly confident.
“How is it not—”
“I think it’s romantic and rather generous of me.” He took a swig straight from a new bottle, then jabbed a finger at Jav. “Because what’s more, I’ve seen her wanting you.”
Jav’s brows only furrowed. He couldn’t be understanding any of this.
“Give her one good night before the end. That’s what I say.” Alekur raised his glass again. “If she’s to die, why let her die a maiden? Go have some fun.”
“Very altruistic of you, sire.”
Alekur’s face hardened. He rose and stepped around the table and forward, just a pace or two away now. “It is altruistic of me. I could have slit her throat myself.”
“But it’d have been over so quickly.”
“True. Very true. But I’m giving you—and her—a few hours to enjoy each other and choose whatever tragic end for her you like. Better to die bravely in your lover’s arms than like a stuck pig, don’t you think?”
The bile rose in his throat. Whatever he was thinking, he mustn’t have concealed it that well, because Alekur’s expression went steely and cold.
“I don’t care what you think. Do you serve this throne or not?”
