Orlac was waiting; he seemed vaguely amused by the long pause.
‘My apologies, sire.’ Goth bent low again. ‘I quite lost myself there. Your arrival has frightened us all.’
‘The Cipreans have nothing further to fear from me,’ Orlac said quietly.
Goth showed his surprise. ‘But you killed so many of them! How can they not fear you?’ He could not help the words spilling out and he braced himself for a painful response.
‘It had to be so,’ the golden-haired man replied.
‘What is it you want, sire? Perhaps I can be of some service?’
Orlac was genuinely amused. ‘I don’t think so, royal adviser. What I want you cannot give me.’
Goth decided to push his luck. It had held this far and he had nothing to lose, perhaps everything to gain by ingratiating himself with this powerful individual. ‘I may surprise you.’
‘What I want,’ Orlac said with deliberation, ‘is Tallinor razed, its people dead and a man called Torkyn Gynt on his knees paying homage to me!’ His voice had increased in volume but it was cold.
Goth hardly noticed, such was his shock at what the man had just said. He trembled with the thrill of those words.
He found himself on his knees now, wanting to pay his own homage to this empowered man who lusted for the same vengeance as he. Oh kindred soul, he wanted to cry out loud. Instead he clasped his hands together with glee in front of Orlac. ‘My lord, I can indeed help you with what you desire so much. I am Tallinese; I was formerly the Chief Inquisitor of the Kingdom and there is no man on this Land I would rather see on his knees awaiting your pleasure and his pain than Torkyn Gynt whom I know and despise with every ounce of my blood.’
It was Orlac’s turn to feel surprised. ‘Know him? By sight?’
‘Sight! Ha!’ Goth almost forgot himself. ‘He is my enemy. I nearly killed him but I failed, sire. The Queen died of the poison instead.’ Before he knew it the whole story was out of his mouth and laid bare in front of Orlac.
‘You murdered her?’
Goth felt nervous and looked around to check no Ciprean had slid into the room and heard his confession. He nodded and was not surprised to hear Orlac laugh again; this time he seemed hugely amused.
‘But it is Gynt you seek to kill?’ Orlac asked once his humour had settled.
‘With all my heart. And his woman. Her name is Alyssa. And all of his supporters—too many to mention now, my lord. I would like to see all of them dead, including his King whom I have heard recently married Alyssa and made her Queen of Tallinor. I hope I’ll live to see his Kingdom in ruins and count him dead amongst it.’
‘You have a lot of hate inside you, Goth,’ Orlac observed.
‘I have my reasons, my lord, which is why I will serve you blindly, faithfully and to the exclusion of all other interests, for you desire what I seek.’
Orlac paused to consider this strange fellow. How uncanny that this man and he should harbour such depth of hate for the same individual…the same Kingdom. He wondered why but then cast that question aside. He really did not care. It was the man’s passion he was impressed by. There was no question this Goth was
sincere; his eyes told Orlac this was a man with no remorse, no empathy with others.
‘How can you help me?’ the god asked, curious to hear the fellow’s ideas.
‘In many ways, my lord. I know Tallinor; I know the collective mind of its people and how it works. I know the King and his failings. I know Torkyn Gynt and his companions by sight. I can lead you to those who would support, protect or hide him.’
Goth could have gone on but felt he had said enough. He saw the golden man nodding thoughtfully, considering what he had said.
‘And what do you wish in return for such loyal service?’
‘In return? Why nothing, my great lord. I wish only to serve. Perhaps a nice plot of land on the hills around Cipres. Or you might throw some of the spoils of Tallinor my way. You may even care to give me status, sire, in your new dynasty for Cipres. I presume you will continue to rule here after your needs have been met in Tallinor. You may consider allowing me to rule Tallinor as your proxy?’ Goth was warming to his theme now and even began to strut around, waving his hand for emphasis. ‘From the ruins of Tallinor we can build a new Kingdom, my lord. Your Kingdom, which you can adjoin with Cipres. I will run it for you. And why indeed stop at Tallinor? With your powers and my knowledge of the region, we can acquire other realms.’
Orlac chuckled at Goth’s grand plan. ‘Is there anything else you may want?’
Goth became still. ‘Yes, sire. I wish to be present at the killing of Torkyn Gynt but I ask that first he watch
his beloved Alyssa be disembowelled, beheaded and quartered. And I wish to be her executioner. I want to look in her eyes and be the last person she sees when the light dies in them, my lord.’
It seemed to Orlac that this man thought along similar lines as Dorgryl. His uncle had already suggested they track down and destroy every family member and friend to Gynt. It would keep him wary and defensive, Dorgryl had counselled, and never in a position to attack. Orlac had seen the sense in this and now here was this strange fellow suggesting a similar plan. Perhaps he could be of some use.
Goth pushed his advantage. ‘Sire, in order to help you, first I must know your plan for Cipres.’
‘Plan? Simply to rule.’
‘How?’
‘What do you mean how, Goth? You heard me tell that creaky old man that we would rule through a woman and at least honour their way.’
‘So you will rule through Princess Sarel?’ Goth asked, trying to understand and knowing he was risking the wrath of the powerful man in front of him.
It was Orlac’s turn to look puzzled. ‘I have no specific woman in mind yet.’
Goth pushed on nervously. ‘So you may kill the Queen and install another?’
‘There is no Queen, Goth. You irritate me now. You killed her, remember?’
Goth believed he could feel his own blood chill. ‘No, my lord,’ he said carefully. ‘I killed Queen Sylven. I am talking about the Princess…the soon to be crowned Queen Sarel.’
Orlac sat upright and regarded Goth—he had been taken by surprise and was unsure what to make of this news.
Dorgryl, who had been listening carefully to this exchange, broke his own silence.
She must be found and killed. She is too dangerous.
Why killed?
Orlac asked, deep down knowing the answer.
As long as there is an heir, the people will not rest. There will always be those—many in fact—who will want their rightful Queen on the throne. And whilst you’re off wreaking havoc on Tallinor, you don’t want an uprising here. Waste no time,
Dorgryl growled.
For all the young god’s immense powers, the elder god decided his nephew was spineless. When the time was right he would overpower him for good but that was some while away yet—he must wait until he had the full measure of his host’s extensive magics and strengths. He must know that before he could make any decisive moves.
Goth cleared his throat uncomfortably. He noticed that Orlac did a lot of staring into nothing. The pauses in the man’s conversation unsettled the former chief inquisitor. It was as though Orlac’s attention was entirely diverted; that he was seeing something else, talking to someone else.
Orlac came out of whatever reverie he had been in and looked down upon Goth.
‘Where is the Princess?’
Goth was relieved to be talking again and released from the disturbing silence. ‘Presumably in her chambers. No one has seen her much since her mother’s
death at Neame and the girl’s arrival in the city. She has a maidservant who is rather,’ he carefully chose an appropriate phrase, ‘over-protective.’ It was the right choice he decided and just stopped short of smirking. Perhaps he could get Hela thrown out of the palace as well. Better still, killed or, wait, even more satisfying…delivered to him as a slave.
Orlac’s voice disturbed his flight of fancy. ‘I want the girl summoned. I instruct you to personally find her and bring her to me.’
‘Now, your highness?’ Goth was not quite sure when this golden man had become a sovereign but he felt it was the right amount of respect to show to this person.
Orlac ignored the title. ‘Did you think, perhaps, I meant tomorrow?’
Goth felt his colour rise immediately. It was not often he could be caught out like this. ‘No, sire. I presumed you meant right now.’
‘Then why are you still here?’ Orlac asked, a subtle change in his tone suggesting something of a threat.
Goth snapped into a bow. ‘At once, sire.’ He left the chamber immediately in search of Sarel.
After a lengthy and extensive search of every room, every nook and cranny of the palace with dozens of people involved in the orchestrated hunt, Goth found himself once again standing in front of Orlac. This time, however, he felt a lot less confident.
He bowed low. ‘My lord. She has disappeared.’ Brevity was best, he decided.
‘Would escaped be a better word?’
Goth found the courage to look into those violet eyes. ‘Perhaps, sire. I have no idea. She was not under any constraint. I’m guessing now that she may have been alerted to your arrival in the city and took flight.’
‘Perhaps,’ the god conceded, suddenly tired. ‘I want her found and returned to the palace. You, Goth, will track her down.’
Dorgryl whispered.
She will have fled to Tallinor.
To Gynt?
I couldn’t say but you can be sure it’s Tallinese soil which beckons. It would be the safest place to flee to…and the largest to get lost in. The only other places around here are tiny islands.
Goth felt a finger of doubt poke at him and again the silence was unnerving. ‘She may already be on a ship, sire,’ he offered.
‘Then chase her. This is your first duty for me and if you succeed you will be richly rewarded, in the manner you wish. Don’t fail me, Almyd Goth.’
‘I will not let you down, my lord. May I have some men?’
‘Take what you want. Leave immediately. I suggest you head for Tallinor first.’
Goth bowed, ecstatic. Back to Tallinor and with armed men behind him. Could it get any better?
‘Try not to bumble and kill another Queen of Cipres,’ Orlac added as Goth made his departure. ‘I wish her returned alive.’ That would annoy Dorgryl, he thought, and smiled.
Alyssa’s face betrayed the pain filling her heart as she revealed her plan to Gyl. They were alone in what had been Lorys’s chambers. How sad, she thought, that someone so vital, so alive just days ago, was now being referred to as the ‘old King’, as if he had been in his dotage.
‘You would leave me now,’ Gyl asked, ‘when I need your counsel more than ever?’
She took his hand but felt none of the affection returned. ‘You know as much about running a kingdom as I do, son. Very little.’ She hoped he might smile but Gyl’s expression remained solemn. She pressed on, her words spilling out quickly as she found good reasons to justify her sudden departure. ‘Those rides out on the moors with your father weren’t for nought. Much would have been discussed without you understanding why. I have ensured the loyalty of the nobility; you have their unwavering support and you can rely on the three
I singled out to advise you well. Can I add that you must know you possess qualities which already lend themselves superbly to leadership. Change the title from Prime to King—the job is much the same. Lorys believed firmly in you; was so very proud of you, and I too feel bitter that you were cheated from hearing this by his own mouth. He died in sadness, I’m sure, because of it.’
Alyssa desperately wished those were not tears in the King’s eyes, yet knew full well her wish was in vain. ‘Don’t weep, son. You were loved. You are still loved.’
He snatched his hand from his mother to push away the hateful tears of weakness. Gyl was angry; would not tolerate more tears. He had shed enough of them over a man he loved—the now-dead father he had never known was his own. His pain spilled out. ‘How could you not share such a knowledge with me!’
It was an accusation. Alyssa remained calm. ‘I knew it would cause pain. We wanted to find the right time.’
‘Well, standing in front of the entire nobility was not it, Mother!’ he yelled now.
‘I realise as much,’ Alyssa responded, her voice suddenly hard. ‘Who knows, it might even be that the untimely death of my husband pushed my hand.’ Alyssa could not help the sarcasm which spilled into her words. Perhaps Gyl was forgetting that she had been a Queen earlier today and was due some respect. He might also be overlooking the fact that he was not the only one grieving for a beloved King.
He answered with a similar and surprising sharpness she had not encountered before, his normally soft grey eyes now glinting with anger. ‘And yet I see that no
amount of grief over your new husband stops you chasing after your former lover like some whore!’
His cruel words punched Alyssa more effectively than any physical blow. ‘Sire,’ she said firmly, remembering her new place and his elevated one. ‘Perhaps it is best I take my leave.’
Gyl swung around. She knew he was upset. He had been forced to absorb a number of shocks these past two days but she would not permit him to speak to her with such disrespect, king or not. Alyssa was not tall —Gyl seemed to tower above her yet her eyes held a cold fury her son did not recall having seen before. He had not meant to say what he did, could hardly believe he had uttered such a dreadful denouncement to his mother.
She was offering him a precise but angry curtsy and he grabbed her before she could make an exit. ‘Madam, I demand a better explanation than you have given me.’ It was deliberately worded to remind her of his new status and it was not lost on her.
‘Careful, Gyl, you wouldn’t want the King’s Mother sporting bruises now would you?’ She looked down at where his fingers pinched into her slender arm.
He let go as if stung and felt the anger diminish instantly into the sorrow it hoped to hide. ‘Damn you! I’m sorry for what I just said. I have no right. Mother…give me a reason!’
Alyssa felt the two days of pressure and tension explode out of her. She was tired of being regal and dignified; weary from having to control her emotions and be strong for others. With every minute she lingered here in loneliness and grief, Torkyn Gynt was taking
several steps further from her and towards her boy, Rubyn; towards trying to save the Kingdom this man in front of her took for granted.
She screamed her response at him and liked it when he stepped back, confused by her sudden vehemence. ‘You would not believe a word I told you because you are deaf to my voice, blind to what I have seen; ignorant of my life before you came into it!’
Gyl was shocked. His mother was always so controlled. He had pushed her too far.
‘Then tell me again,’ he shouted back at her, glad now that they were in the chambers of his father which were discreet, unguarded. No one would hear this exchange, except the dog, Drake. ‘Forgive me my cruel mouth and tell me everything you know and what I must understand!’
The dog had pricked his ears at their loud voices and walked over to lick Alyssa’s hand. The simple action of concern from the animal seemed to quell her rage but Gyl noticed she was breathing hard, working at staying calm. Alyssa laid her small hand on Drake’s big head and spoke gently to him. The hound padded back to its favourite spot and flopped down. Gyl wondered if Drake understood his beloved master would not be returning to this room. It was a poignant reminder that his father’s death and the subsequent grief touched more than just his own heart. He knew he needed to start acting like a king and that began right here and now with his father’s widow.
With no haughtiness now, he addressed her. ‘Please, Mother. Forgive me for what I just said. It was a bold and inaccurate suggestion. Talk to me. I promise to be open-minded. Tell me everything.’
And so Alyssa swallowed her pride and told him of her life before she came to the palace and all that she knew of the impending danger facing Tallinor. They sat down on the window seat overlooking the frantic activity below in the castle’s main courtyard in preparation for the coronation, and Gyl heard a story like no other he had heard before.
Gidyon and Lauryn had chosen to escape the tension which the King’s death and subsequent revelation of his heir had created in and around the palace. The kindly stablemaster had offered them horses and they had leapt at the opportunity to get out into the calm of the moors behind the castle. They rode in silence for a while, deep in their own thoughts, but when they slowed the horses to a walk, it felt necessary to share what was on their minds.
Lauryn broke the silence first. ‘What do you think about Gyl as King?’
‘I hardly know anything about him to make comment. He seems determined not to be too friendly to me so I’ve just tried to stay out of his way.’ Gidyon shrugged. ‘I really can’t say, though I thought you’d struck up some sort of friendship?’
‘Well, yes, we had for a minute. Then I mucked it all up by suggesting he might loosen his braces.’
Gidyon looked at her, puzzled.
‘You know,’ she responded. ‘He’s so tightly wound. And yet, Saxon says Gyl has always been the sunniest of people—I can believe it when he smiles.’
Gidyon nodded, resisting the urge to tease her that her interest in the King-in-waiting seemed more than just casual. ‘I think we must allow him a little time. I’ve been thinking about everything that has happened to him in just the last two days. Can you remember how we felt when we learned we were brother and sister?’
Lauryn shook her head. ‘I can’t remember anything very clearly before we arrived in this world.’
‘That’s true. It is all blurry for me too, but I think we were both shocked and angry at being cheated. I know when I was on the road trying to reach the Heartwood, I began to feel real grief that we had been kept apart and that I’d spent most of my life so lonely, so bereft of a family to love and to love me back.’
Lauryn pushed him gently. ‘You’re such a softie, Gid. I didn’t feel any of that,’ but her sly smile told him she was tricking him. ‘No, you’re right of course. Gyl, I gather, was an orphan and it was our mother who built a life for him at the palace. Did you know he was left by his own mother, tied to the palace gates?’
Gidyon looked surprised. ‘No.’
‘It’s true. He was abandoned as a child…mother goes off to die from some fever or other. He’s never known his father but he gets on with his life with this new woman at the palace and then a few years later, he’s suddenly introduced to us. Meet your step-siblings…they come from another world!’
Gidyon shook his head, a wry smile on his face. ‘It gets worse though, doesn’t it? Saxon told me that Gyl worshipped the King. So it’s understandable that his death would have a profound effect on him. And then to
learn that the King is really his father…’ Gidyon’s sentence trailed off but Lauryn finished it for him.
‘…and that he’s the heir to the throne. One minute you’re a soldier, the next a king. And I’ll tell you this, he’s got another shock coming. How long do you think our mother will remain at the palace twiddling her fingers and playing King’s Mother?’
He looked at Lauryn’s glinting green eyes. Mischief was in them. ‘You think she’ll follow our father?’
‘Of course I do! Could you not feel it between them? It was like the way the air gets just before a storm. You know how your hair begins to stand up and it all goes very still and thick?’
He nodded.
‘Just imagine it, Gidyon. She has believed him dead all these years and now she learns he’s very alive. They were married— don’t forget that. They were deeply in love with one another when he was executed. I would guess they still are!’
Lauryn’s eyes glittered with the romantic vision of her parents, and her brother could not help but smile.
‘I’ll grant you they make a good-looking couple,’ he replied, and ducked when she threw a playful punch this time.
‘Good-looking! Are you mad? They’re glorious. Yargo was right, our father is deadly handsome and the Queen—’
‘King’s Mother,’ Gidyon corrected, deliberately goading her.
‘Alyssa, then, is just about the most beautiful woman I think I have ever laid eyes on.’
‘Are you saying that because everyone thinks you look so like her?’ he replied, grinning widely now.
Lauryn looked exasperated. Her brother was not going to allow her to enjoy the fantasy of her parents.
Gidyon pulled a face. ‘Oh come on, I’m only teasing. I think they’re wonderful together and I suppose I could get my head chopped off or be burned at the stake for saying something treacherous like this but I’m pleased the King is dead. Perhaps our parents can be together. I presume they kept their marriage secret?’
‘I don’t know but I’d wager our mother won’t waste much time departing the palace.’
‘It won’t win her any friends, if she does leave now,’ Gidyon said gloomily.
‘Considering what’s at stake, and if Orlac does appear as our father predicts, then I’m not sure she would care much about whose feathers she ruffled. Only the two of them seem to know what is going on anyway. I hope she explains more to Gyl, though. He needs to understand, then he may lend his support.’
‘You like him, don’t you?’
Lauryn took a moment to answer him. ‘I cannot admit that he has made himself easy to like, but Sallementro and Saxon have both told me that he can be brilliantly charming and eloquent. He’s the best soldier in the Company, the most eligible bachelor in Tal…’
Gidyon’s smile widened. ‘Well, I can see you’ve done your homework.’
‘Don’t tease me. I would like to know him better but I’ve offended him twice and I’m not sure, now that he’s King, he would bother with me.’
‘Don’t be too sure of it. Remember who you look like.’
‘Do I really?’
‘Lauryn, you’re the image of our mother.’
Embarrassed by his earnest compliment she changed the subject. ‘When is the coronation, anyway?’
Gidyon stroked his horse’s mane. ‘Saxon says it will happen fast. Most likely within the Eighthday. They will invite all surrounding sovereigns, I gather.’
‘Well, if our mother does not stay, I suppose we’ll be here together at least.’
He looked towards his sister sheepishly. ‘Ah. There is something I need to talk to you about.’
Lauryn had dreaded it; already sensed he might announce something like this. ‘No, Gidyon, you cannot do this.’
‘I have to.’
‘Why can’t you wait a few days?’
‘Did you see the look on his face when he learned I’d given the stone away? No. I must travel to Brittelbury immediately and get it back.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’ Lauryn stopped her horse’s slow progress, anticipating an argument.
Gidyon followed suit but did not reply immediately. He allowed the pause to lengthen into a silence. Then finally he spoke quietly. ‘You know I won’t take you. It could be dangerous.’
Her temper flared. ‘So everyone is leaving me?’
Gidyon shrugged gently. ‘Someone needs to represent the family at the King’s coronation…and you’re the only one he’ll probably tolerate by day’s end if your hunch is right.’ He moved his horse closer and took her hand. ‘I promise not to leave you for long. I’ll ride as fast as I can and return immediately.’
‘No, you won’t,’ she said sulkily. ‘That girl is there and you may even fall for her.’
‘Too late…already have.’ He grinned, and kicked his horse into a gallop, laughing as he heard his sister shriek her frustration.
They sat in a frigid silence after Alyssa had finished her story.
At last he spoke. ‘You and Torkyn Gynt are married.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘We are. I watched him die, as did countless others, including your father and her majesty, Queen Nyria. Saxon even helped shroud his corpse in muslin.’
‘Mother, this is madness. How can he be alive then?’ Gyl worked hard at keeping ridicule from his voice. He had promised her he would remain open-minded.
‘Magic, son. He and I are both sentient. My powers are no longer open to me because of this archalyt disk,’ she said, pointing to her forehead, ‘but his talents are vast. I’m not convinced that even Tor understands the breadth of his own magical skills. There is no one to match him.’
‘Other than this Orlac you speak of, who is coming to raze Tallinor and wreak havoc…killing us all, I presume.’ He did not succeed in covering the scorn in his voice.