Kinshield's Redemption (Book 4) (36 page)

The temptation was great to march right over there and tell that self-important weasel that she’d already set in motion a plan to bring peace to the two countries once and for all. How dare he assume she was so daft as to start a war? Yes, a war would be more interesting, but not at the expense of the honor and prestige she would receive for receiving the Mark of Zuhlys Fahn. And her tiny prince would be born into even more power than Gavin. A mother’s influence over her child in its formative years was powerful—far more so than a father’s. War was the last thing she would want. For now. Once she had the power of the two countries within her grasp, she would set her sights on grander achievements, many of which would undoubtedly require war.

She followed Edan around the palace for the rest of the day, delighting in his futile efforts to find her. On occasion, when he sat down to do some writing, she playfully knocked items off his desk. Jophet stormed into his office in the afternoon and reported that his guards hadn’t found a single trace of her. She put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Because the guards at the bridge hadn’t seen her try to leave the island, and none of the horses were missing from the stable or pasture behind it, they concluded that she was hiding somewhere on the island, and it was only a matter of time before they found her.

The most difficult moment was during supper, when the smell of food reminded her that she hadn’t eaten, and she had no reliable means to get food without being discovered. While the family dined, the children asked whether there’d been any word from their mother.

“Maybe the ghosts took her,” Iriel said. Feanna smiled, amused at the angst the simple question inspired.

She left Edan and Liera to field the questions and the tears of concern and the wild, childish speculations, and went in search of something left over and unattended in the kitchen. To her great fortune, the cook was preparing a tray, undoubtedly for the Cyprindians. When he turned away, she grabbed one of the plates and snuck off with it, sitting on a bench in the corner of the washroom. She had no silverware with which to eat it, but she didn’t care. She ate the meat first, tearing a chunk off the steak like a mountain lioness devouring its prey. Its juice ran down her fingers and across her hand on both sides, dribbling onto the lace cuff of her gown and staining it with streaks of pale brown. She scooped two fingersful of mashed potatoes and licked them off, chasing the food with a mouthful of bread. She should’ve grabbed some wine too. The dryness in her throat made her cough out half of her mouthful. Even from her seat, she heard the cook shouting curses over the missing plate. It occurred to her that she was eating like Gavin again, but it didn’t matter. No one was watching.

Finished, she wiped the grease off her chin and hands with the bottom of her skirt. What did it matter? No one could see her anyway. From there, she headed upstairs to observe the grand deceit as it played out.

Taria stood guard outside the guest chamber. Without Edan’s clomping boots to cover the sounds of Feanna’s rustling skirt and whispering slippers on the marble floor, she waited down the hall for the two of them to arrive. It wasn’t long before the two traitors climbed the grand staircase and walked past her. Liera was dressed in a pale-blue gown and frosted with diamonds and sapphires. She didn’t look like a queen, but neither did she look like a dead fletcher’s widow. Smiling with anticipation, Feanna fell into step behind them. Their knock upon the door was answered by an invitation to enter.

Tokpah stood, grabbed his pole-arm, and took his place behind Kaoque, watchful but not threatening. Kaoque stood as well, bowing to Liera. He glared at Edan, lips pressed tightly together.

“May I present Kaoque Ewhirk, Emissary to the Lord Ruler of Cyprindia, and his guardian, Tokpah?” Edan paused to give Kaoque the opportunity to bow to the supposed queen, but he stood straight and still. “Kaoque, it’s my honor to introduce you to Queen Feanna Kinshield of Thendylath.”

Feanna found a place beside the bed where she watched the scene. It was all she could do not to snort derisively at Liera playing her part.

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Liera said. Her voice cracked, but she smiled through it. Feanna had to hand it to her. She hadn’t thought Liera would agree to participate in such a fraud. Perhaps she wasn’t as pure and good as she’d like people to believe.

“You try to cozen us? That you would bring me a false queen is unconscionable,” Kaoque spat. He let loose a string of curses that caused a blush across Liera’s pale features. “How dare you. Do you take this as a joke?”

Go, Kaoque,
Feanna thought.

“I—I beg your pardon?” Edan said, puffing himself up. “You dare accuse—”

“I saw this woman in the palace the day I arrived,” Kaoque said. “You claimed the queen was not present, and yet
she
was.” He pointed directly at Liera, who shrank back from his accusatory finger with wide eyes and open mouth. “You, yourself, gave me a tour of the palace, and in the great hall hangs a painting of the new king and queen. The woman pictured is not this woman. Days later, I watched the palace come alive with activity and was made to wait in this room without explanation for hours. First, you failed to tell me the queen was available to hear my message, and then you bring an imposter to deceive me. This is an outrage.”

This was what Feanna lived for. She watched with eagerness, expecting Edan to bluster and cover his lies with more lies. To her disappointment, he did neither.

Edan’s entire body seemed to deflate. “You’re quite right, I’m afraid. I recognize the importance of coming to an agreement with Cyprindia as soon as possible. I didn’t wish to deceive you, but when you announced you were leaving, I became desperate. The queen—the true queen—is nowhere to be found. All we can do is wait until King Gavin returns.”

Kaoque’s face was still impenetrable, but Feanna could tell Edan’s story had aroused his curiosity. “And why would King Gavin’s return make a difference in this regard?”

“Because he’s a powerful mage,” Edan said. Beside him, Liera nodded like a puppet. “King Gavin can use his mystical vision to see into people’s hearts and find them if they’re nearby. If Queen Feanna hasn’t been taken by... some unseen enemy, then with his magic, we’ll find her.”

“To what unseen enemy do you refer?” Kaoque asked with a wariness in his tone.

Feanna wanted to caution him away from this silliness because, as they both knew, she hadn’t been abducted at all, and pursuing an impossible line of reasoning was a waste of time. Besides, Edan needed to pay for imprisoning her, and Kaoque was the ideal person to dispense this justice. She crept close to him and whispered into his ear, “Never mind that.” With one hand on his shoulder, she
shifted,
felt his curiosity, and then
shifted a
gain to push into him her own indifference for the subject and her anger and feelings of betrayal towards Edan.

“I only meant that if you and Tokpah carry amulets that hide you from notice,” Edan explained, “then someone else might have similar magic and used it to abduct the queen.”

Kaoque sat silently for a moment before whispering something to Tokpah in his language. Feanna felt his rage building and smiled, pleased with herself and her ability to influence him. Tokpah only nodded in response. “We have not abducted your queen,” Kaoque said in a seething tone. “Your accusation offends us.”

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. Please understand that we must explore every possibility.”

“No one from Cyprindia has committed such a crime. Your affairs are not ours. It is time to say good-bye, Edan Dawnpiper and...” He eyed Liera up and down. “...whoever you truly are. Tokpah and I will be rising early for our journey tomorrow.”

“I beg you to stay a few days longer, Emissary Kaoque,” Edan said. “All will be well when you meet King Gavin, I assure you.”

“Can he remove the injury of your betrayal and accusation from my heart? Can he take back the lies you have told me in your effort to manipulate me into betraying my mission, my Lord Ruler, and my god?” He began shoving his few belongings into his satchel.

“You aren’t leaving now, are you?” Edan said.

“It is best that we sleep at an inn tonight so that we are not corrupted by the dishonor that abounds under this roof.”

Edan rocked back as if he’d been slapped. Feanna nearly snorted a laugh, though she hadn’t expected Kaoque to leave right that moment. Perhaps she’d overdone the anger and betrayal bit. This was too soon. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t run to her room, pack her bags for traveling within a few minutes’ time, and lug them all outside by herself. She would need time to form a plan for stealing a carriage.

With two snaps of his fingers, Edan attracted the attention of Taria, standing guard outside the door. “Again, I apologize for any insult. It was unintended. I hope you’ll reconsider. I would hate to have to insist.” With that, he left, escorting Liera out by the elbow, and Taria shut the door behind him.

Chapter 47

Cirang felt a kinship with Hennah that she’d never felt with Daia or even King Gavin. She and Hennah had been through the same experience of recognizing the awfulness of who they’d been, and while Hennah hadn’t committed the terrible crimes Cirang had, her eyes reflected a deep, soul-aching shame all the same.

She helped the battler up. Hennah, who’d been the tallest of the women at the Viragon Sisterhood, now seemed to shrink into herself, folding her wide shoulders inward and hunching her back. Even still, she towered a good four inches over Daia and about eight over Cirang.

Daia clapped Gavin’s back with a smile. “Congratulations. It was a resounding success. I’ll bet you’re anxious to get back to Tern.”

“Yeh. Cirang, get Hennah geared up,” the king said. “She’s a First Royal Guard, and she should dress as one.”

Cirang motioned with her head for Hennah to follow her to the horses. “I understand what you’ve been through—the shame, the remorse. If you want to talk about it...”

“I’m not like you, Cirang,” Hennah said. “I never became a murderer.”

That much was true. Cirang pulled Hennah’s mail shirt from the large satchel she’d tied to the front of Hennah’s saddle and unstrapped the extra sword from her own. “You’re right. I was wicked for much longer than you were, and I wasn’t gaoled right away. You were lucky.”

She left Hennah to put her armor and weapons on and returned to the stream.

“I don’t savor going back to the yellow realm,” the king said.

“At least we know what to expect next time,” Daia said.

He shook his head. “I’ll take two o’the other battlers with me from now on. You’re in as much danger there as I am.”

She seemed to deflate. Nodding, she said, “You’re right. I’ve no defense against those wizards.”

“My liege, do you want me to try re-etching the rune now?” Cirang asked. If it turned out she couldn’t do it, perhaps it would be better to find out now, before they left the area where Rarga lived so that they could return to the midrealm and have the cat-creature do it again.

“Yeh, better try it now in case you need another lesson afore we go back to Tern.”

She smiled. “I haven’t carved anything since taking this body. I hope I can guide these hands as expertly as I did my old ones.”

“You didn’t have a problem carving up those four people you killed,” Daia said. “Your skill with blades wasn’t lost.”

Cirang nodded. She understood why Daia clung to her hatred, but surely it was eating at her. What good was such loathing when the object of it presented neither danger nor insult? “The original Cirang was a battler. I didn’t need to teach these hands how to use a sword or knife.”

“Let’s go upstream a bit,” King Gavin said. “I don’t know if still lake water has the same effect. Rarga didn’t use it, so that’s got to mean something.”

Beside the stream, he squatted, and she did as well. He handed her the stone, smooth and slightly warm from his hand. The rune symbol was blackened, its lines the width of her small finger. She was nervous, knowing that King Gavin was counting on her. Though her mind knew what to do, she hadn’t carved a thing since she’d awoken in this body. What worried her the most was that she hadn’t had the urge to carve anything. The desire was there, but the passion was not. As Tyr, the need to put chisel to wood felt as natural as hunger or thirst. Going more than a couple weeks without carving anything would sour his mood and make him restless.

Now, as Cirang, she felt nothing.

“Well?” he asked.

“I’m a bit nervous,” she said, chuckling to hide her embarrassment. “The pressure to perform for my king has birthed butterflies in my belly.”

His gap-toothed smile was disarming, and his brown eyes were warm. “You’ll do fine. Daia,” he called, waving an arm. “Lend Cirang some o’your strength.”

Something powerful filled her, but it wasn’t the skill to carve. It was more like a physical strength, as if she could fight a stronger, more skilled opponent and win. She felt determined, confident. “All right. I’m ready.”