Lord of the Shadows (59 page)

hey burned Kirsh's body on Lake Ruska, the pyre floating out across the blood-stained water in the dim red light of the first sun. Marqel lay beside her lover, a gesture Jacinta thought both touching and foolish. Dirk should have tossed her into a shallow unmarked grave. The world needed to forget Marqel almost as badly as it needed to forget Belagren.

He stood by the water's edge for a long while, watching the pyre float on the lake, still clutching the torch he had used to set it alight. Jacinta ached for him. Dirk may seem a tower of implacable strength to everyone else, but she knew he was hurting. She knew he blamed himself for Kirsh's death, knew he was grieving for his brother. But there was nothing she could do to console him. Nor was it her place to try.

Dirk had already emptied Omaxin of many of the troops Antonov had gathered, along with those he had brought with him to confront Kirsh. There were only a few dozen of them left now. Jacinta suspected Dirk had deliberately delayed the funeral until most of them were gone. Watching Kirsh's pyre burn was heartbreaking, even for Jacinta, who had never really liked him much. For the men who would have willingly followed Kirshov Latanya to war, the specter was just too disturbing to risk letting them witness it.

There were quite a few Shadowdancers still in Omaxin, but not a red robe in sight. Dirk had given them a clear choice. Change their allegiance to the Sundancers and stay here to continue studying the ruins, or go back to Avacas in chains as condemned heretics. Not one of them had opted for the latter. They had shed their robes and gone back to doing exactly what they were doing before Dirk arrived: trying to puzzle out the writings
in the cavern at the end of the Labyrinth … or rather the
tunnel
, she corrected absently. Dirk got quite annoyed if anybody called it the Labyrinth.

The smoke from the pyre hung over the water in the still air. The evening was clear, the red sky vast and bloody; a fitting backdrop for the death of a prince. Behind Jacinta stood a small guard wearing the black and green livery of Bryton and the reason she was dressed in her riding habit rather than mourning clothes. Her father had sent an armed guard to escort her home.

Her father's men had arrived a few days after the surrender bearing a very abrupt and annoyed note from her parents and a rather more sympathetic letter from Alenor. Both letters reminded her of the same thing. She had a duty she had managed to avoid until now. The time for prevaricating was over. Dhevyn was free and needed all the stability the union of the Seranov and D'Orlon houses would bring. Raban Seranov was waiting for her. The wedding was arranged and set for just over two months from now. She dreaded the future before her, but knew her duty to Dhevyn. She could argue with her mother, but not her queen.

Jacinta would leave as soon as the funeral was over.

She had learned something recently that made her feel older for owning the wisdom.
The greater good sometimes came at a high personal cost.
She needed only to look at Dirk to remind her of that.

After a few more moments of hushed reverence, Dirk turned and headed back toward her. The gathered troops began to disperse, although Jacinta did not move. She wanted to say good-bye.

Dirk handed the torch to one of his captains and walked up the slope a little farther before he bowed politely to her.

“My lady.”

“My lord.”

“You're all set to leave then?”

She nodded. “I think it's best.”

“You'll give my regards to your parents? And my apologies
for asking you to undertake the duties that kept you away from them for so long?”

“Of course.”

He was saying that for the benefit of her escort.
Always the politician, aren't you, Dirk?
She was grateful, but a little hurt.

“Will I see you in Avacas before I sail for Dhevyn, my lord?”

“Probably not,” he told her. “There's a great deal more to do here before I leave. And I have to escort Rees's body back to Elcast. Faralan is going to need some help sorting out his affairs. Besides, I think Misha might appreciate not having me around for a while. Tia certainly will.”

“Shall I give the queen a message from you?”

“Give her my love,” Dirk said. “And tell her I said thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

Jacinta nodded. “I'll make certain she knows how much you appreciate her support.”

“And you can tell her Alexin is no longer considered a heretic by the Church. As to whether or not her relationship with him still constitutes treason, that will be up to her to decide since now she's a queen in her own right.”

“I can't imagine her decision will be anything less than favorable for Alexin.”

He nodded in agreement. “Your new father-in-law will be pleased by that news.”

“I'm sure he will be,” she agreed. “He's very fond of both his sons.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

“I would ask another favor of you, my lady.”

“I'm yours to command, my lord,” she announced formally, shattered by the cold formality of their parting.

“I would ask you take care of Lady Lexie and her daughter, Mellie.”

“I give you my word they will both be accorded the full respect and privilege their rank deserves,” she assured him.

“And give Mellie my love, too,” he asked. “Tell her I'll try to get to Kalarada to see her as soon as I can.”

“I'm sure she'll anxiously await your arrival, my lord.”

“You'll like Mellie,” he added, as if he was looking for a reason to drag out their conversation. “And she'll need friends at court.”

“Then I will be certain she has them,” Jacinta promised. “Although I will be in Nova for much of the time, I fear. But she and Alenor are not so far apart in age. I'm sure they'll become firm friends.”

Dirk smiled. “Perhaps, once you're the Duchess of Grannon Rock, they'll finally let you into the university.”

“I'm not sure what my husband will have to say about that.”

“I'm quite certain you could persuade Raban to agree to anything, my lady.”

“You vastly overestimate my powers of persuasion, I fear.”
If they were any good at all, I wouldn't be leaving.

He hesitated for a moment and then bowed politely. “I wish you well, my lady. I hope you'll be content.”

Content
, he said, not
happy
. At least he hadn't been so cruel as to suggest that.

“I'm sure I'll come to terms with my fate in time,” she agreed. “As you seem to have done.”

“Good-bye, Jacinta.”

She couldn't bear to return his farewell. Jacinta curtsied as elegantly as she could manage on the loose slope. He stood there watching as she turned and walked up toward her waiting horse and the rest of the escort of Senetian troops Dirk had provided for her journey back to Avacas.

No sooner had she mounted than he turned and strode back toward the ruins. She couldn't tell if it was because he couldn't bear to watch her go, or if he was just too busy to care.

lenor waited for Jacinta when she returned from Senet in the throne room of Kalarada Palace, the first time she'd ever felt the need to meet with her cousin in formal surroundings. But with Lady Sofia waiting in Jacinta's rooms, her own mother starting to develop grandiose ideas about taking back her throne and everything else that had happened since the day of the eclipse, she clung to whatever symbols of her position she could claim.

The Queen of Dhevyn was feeling the need for a little protocol.

Jacinta seemed a little surprised by the formality when she was escorted into the queen's presence by Dimitri Bayel. Alenor sat on the Eagle Throne, the heavy crown giving her a headache, her expression determinedly neutral. It was a form of protection. She hoped the weight of her crown would force down the other emotions that she was afraid might undo her perfect imitation of a reasonable and controlled monarch.

“Welcome home, Lady Jacinta,” she said when her cousin stopped before the throne and curtsied politely. “I trust your journey from Avacas was not too rough?”

“No, your majesty,” Jacinta replied, looking a little puzzled by Alenor's stiff tone. “The seas were quite smooth for this time of year.”

“You bring us news, I take it?”

Jacinta glanced around at the courtiers surrounding the queen. There were no Senetians left in Alenor's court, but Rainan was standing just behind the throne on Alenor's left and several other underlings were hovering about the bright, sunwarmed chamber, listening to every word.

“Perhaps you'd prefer to hear my news in private, your majesty,” Jacinta suggested.

“I already know of the death of Prince Kirshov,” Alenor said, a little amazed that she was able to say it and sound so calm. Although she didn't know the details, the news had rocked her to the core. Grief mixed with relief and a rather uncomfortable dose of guilt warred for dominance in her heart. In truth, if anybody had asked her what she was feeling, she really couldn't have given him an answer.

“The Lion of Senet sent a messenger to inform us of the outcome of the …
troubles
… in Omaxin,” Rainan informed Jacinta before Alenor could. “I hear the High Priestess is dead, too.”

“Yes, your highness,” Jacinta confirmed warily. “She is.”

“Did Dirk Provin kill her?”

Jacinta glanced at the others in the hall pointedly before replying. “No, your highness. Dirk didn't kill her. Kirsh did.”

Alenor felt the blood drain from her face and realized what a fool she was for thinking this could be dealt with in an open forum. She should never have tried to impress anybody, least of all her cousin and closest friend, by trying to act like a queen. Or give her mother a chance to act like she was back at the helm.

“Leave us!” she announced, rising to her feet.

“Alenor,” her mother began. “Perhaps you should…”

“I said leave us!” Alenor repeated forcefully.

Rainan stared at her, obviously put out by Alenor's abrupt dismissal of the court, but she nodded silently and turned on her heel, followed by Dimitri and the rest of Alenor's attendants. Jacinta watched them leave curiously, turning to Alenor when the last of them closed the door behind them.

“What was all that about?”

Alenor sighed heavily and stepped down from the podium. “It was a mistake. Ever since we got the word about the Senetians pulling out of Dhevyn, my mother has been making noises about resuming the throne.” Alenor sat herself down on the steps leading up to the dais and rested her chin in her hands. “Am I a bad person, Jacinta, for not wanting to let her have her old job back?”

“Not if you think you're doing a better job.”

Alenor lifted the heavy crown from her head and placed it on the step beside her. “What really happened in Omaxin?”

Her cousin sat next to her on the step, silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “There was a battle. A very short, sharp and brutal one. I don't think Kirsh expected to come out of it alive. Or wanted to. Rees Provin died in the same charge. It wasn't until later they found Marqel. Dirk thinks Kirsh killed her just before he attacked. He was fairly certain Marqel murdered Antonov, too, although Kirsh wouldn't believe it when Dirk tried to negotiate with him.”

Alenor was silent, wondering what strange set of circumstances would make Kirsh kill the woman he loved. And he had loved her. Blindly and foolishly, perhaps, but he had loved Marqel the way Alenor always wanted to be loved by him. Maybe, in hindsight, she'd gotten the better end of the bargain. She lost Kirsh to Marqel, but at least she was still alive to remark the fact.

“I suppose we'll never really know why,” Jacinta added, watching Alenor closely.

She smiled wanly. “It's all right, Jacinta. I'm fine. I'm not hypocrite enough to pretend I'm a grieving widow, but I never wished Kirsh harm. The news that Rees Provin is dead is going to cause problems, though. Who is going to rule Elcast? I can hardly let Dirk have it. I mean, even if he wasn't Lord of the Suns, it's fairly old news by now that he wasn't actually Wallin's son.” She rubbed her temples, wondering if being a queen ever got any easier. “I guess Rees's baby son is the logical choice, but he's only a few weeks old … still, I can worry about it later, I suppose. Right now I have a lot more urgent things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Jacinta asked.

“Well, for one thing, I have your mother here demanding I release you from my service immediately so you can go home and marry Raban Seranov. I suddenly have a new cousin I didn't know about called Melliandra Thorn and Johan's widow to contend with. I have an entire country reeling from the shock
of the sudden withdrawal of Senet. For every man out there cheering for freedom, there's another accusing me of ruining them with my shortsightedness. I'm afraid to let Alexin out of my sight for fear the Church will demand he be returned to Senet for execution as a heretic …”

“Well, that's one worry you don't have any longer,” Jacinta assured her. “Dirk's wiped the slate clean of charges against Alexin. As far as the Church is concerned, he is an innocent man.”

Alenor's smile widened. “You know, sometimes it's rather handy having one of your best friends as Lord of the Suns.”

Jacinta smiled, but there was an oddness about it. A hint of regret or bitterness, perhaps, that Alenor couldn't quite define.

“He said to give you his thanks, too, Allie. For trusting him. And he asked you to treat Mellie and Lady Lexie in a manner befitting their station.”

“Is he coming to Kalarada?”

Jacinta shook her head. “I don't think so. At least, not for a while. He's got a lot to deal with cleaning up after the Shadowdancers.”

“Poor Dirk. I keep trying to imagine what it must have cost him to do what he did. He never shared his plans with anyone, you know. Not even me. Not even when I asked him to. He was too afraid I'd get caught up in the backlash if he failed. It couldn't have been easy for him to find himself facing Kirsh across a battlefield, either.”

“I wouldn't lose too much sleep over how Dirk is coping,” Jacinta advised. “He was doing just fine when I saw him last.”

Alenor stared at her cousin, wondering at her tone. “Didn't you like him, Jacinta?”

Jacinta shrugged. “I liked him well enough.”

“But…”

“But nothing. He's doing just fine, Alenor. Don't worry about Dirk. Think about how you're going to propose to Alexin instead.”

“What?” she gasped in shock.

“You are going to marry him, aren't you? Goddess, Allie, I didn't spend all that effort covering up for you two with the dreaded Lady Dorra just so you can toss him aside as soon as you're a free woman!”

“But I never …”

“You never what? For pity's sake, girl, Kirsh has been dead for close on a month! What have you been doing?”

“But it's only been … Oh, Jacinta! Even if I wanted to… well, no, that's not what I mean, of course I
want
to … it's just … well, it's been such a short time. It's indecent!”

“Well, yes, I can see how it would be indecent for you to marry the man who was publicly condemned to die for the crime of being your lover less than a month after your husband murdered his mistress and then threw himself on a blade to avoid facing the consequences of starting a civil war.”

The queen frowned at her cousin disapprovingly. “You make it sound so … tacky, Jacinta.”

“Well, it is rather,” Jacinta agreed. Then she smiled brightly. “But I'd not worry about it too much, if I were you, your majesty. Give it a few months for the fuss to die down and the bards will be singing about you and Alexin as if it was one of the great love affairs of history.”

“What will they say about Kirsh and Marqel, I wonder?”

“The less said about those two, the better,” Jacinta suggested with a grimace.

“And what of you, Jacinta? Will they sing great ballads about you and Raban Seranov, someday?”

“Only if I don't murder him in our bed some night when I tire of his snoring. Or maybe they
will
sing about me
because
I murdered him in our bed one night when I finally tired of his snoring.”

Alenor studied Jacinta curiously. “You're making jokes again.”

“Am I?” she shrugged. “Strange. I don't feel like laughing.”

“I wish I could help you, Jacinta. You helped me find the
only moments of happiness I've had in the last few years. But I'm barely dealing with
my
mother. I don't think I have the strength to take on yours at the same time.”

“That's all right, Allie,” Jacinta assured her. “There is a whole new world waiting for us out there. You're going to rule a free Dhevyn. I'm going to start a dynasty. Neither of us is going to have the time to worry about how happy we are.”

Alenor wondered, for a moment, why she wasn't feeling more afraid. She should be. She was young, untried and untested. Her mother thought her far too inexperienced to handle the job. Her people probably thought the same. But Alenor had a network of contacts her mother had never had access to. The new Lion of Senet was like a big brother to her and the Lord of the Suns was one of her best friends. The Baenlanders were no longer a problem, which meant their shipping would no longer be raided and for that matter, with the Lady Lexie's help, she might even have a chance of reining in the Brotherhood and doing something to rid Dhevyn of the corruption that had spread throughout its bureaucracy while Senet was in charge.

She could do this.

“You're right, Jacinta,” she said, giving her cousin's hand a reassuring squeeze. “There
is
a whole new world waiting for us out there.”

Alenor rose to her feet and picked up her crown. In her heart, Alenor knew it. She could rule Dhevyn and rule it well.

And she was going to.

Starting now.