Quintana of Charyn (22 page)

‘I mentioned to Donashe that I didn’t trust you here, Mont,’ Rafuel finally said. ‘And that I’d question what you were doing.’

‘My valley. My cave,’ Lucian said with a shrug. He knew Rafuel feared what Lucian knew about the fate of the women.

‘I was hoping to convince Harker and Kasabian to go hunting with me,’ he added. ‘As well as this grain, I’m willing to allow one or two of you on my side of the stream to catch an elk.’

‘I’d say it’s a better idea if you take Matteo,’ Donashe said. Lucian noticed the bitter jealousy in the expression of the third man watching the exchange between Donashe and Rafuel. ‘These two are useless old men,’ Donashe added, dismissing Harker and Kasabian with a sneer.

‘Get out of my cave,’ Harker said.

‘This moping and silence of yours is dampening camp spirits.’

Harker leapt to his feet, and it took Lucian and Jory and Kasabian to hold him back.

‘We don’t need lessons on how to move on,’ Harker cried. ‘Those lads you slaughtered and the deaths of our women have crushed this camp’s spirit.’

Rafuel stood between Donashe and Harker, pushing Harker back.

‘Let’s accept the offer to hunt for elk, Donashe. Before these fools force the Mont to take back his words. It will feed us for days.’

Donashe kept his stare on Harker, but Harker was not a man to look away.

‘When it’s time for the hunt, Mont,’ Donashe said, ‘Matteo here will accompany you across the stream.’ Donashe clasped Rafuel’s arm before leaving the cave, his lapdog following.

Lucian felt the full force of Rafuel’s stare.

‘You’ve turned into a hard man, Rafuel,’ Jory said. ‘Don’t you trust us anymore?’

‘Rafuel?’ Harker’s head shot up in surprise.

Lucian sent Jory a warning look.

‘Matteo,’ Jory muttered.

‘Rafuel was the name of the leader of those poor slaughtered lads,’ Harker said.

A muscle in Rafuel’s cheek twitched with emotion.

‘You have a good memory for names, Harker,’ Jory said.

‘And you have a tongue that needs to be cut off,’ Lucian said to his cousin.

Lucian could see the confusion on Kasabian and Harker’s faces. Jory held the bottle out to Rafuel, who hesitated, but then took a swig and passed it on.

‘Phaedra’s alive, isn’t she?’ Jory asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

Rafuel stepped closer to them all. ‘Quintana of Charyn is hiding downstream,’ he whispered.

Kasabian and Harker stared at him, stunned. Lucian could tell even Jory couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Harker gripped Rafuel’s coat, his fists clenched and trembling.

‘Did my wife and daughter die to keep the spawn of that wretched king alive?’ he asked.

‘Well, the spawn of our wretched king is going to spawn another hopefully not-so-wretched king in less than three months …’

Lucian heard their intake of breath. He could see that Kasabian and Harker didn’t seem to know what to believe. He took the flask from Rafuel and raised it.

‘To the women … and whoever it is they’re protecting.’

‘Yes!’ Jory hissed, lifting Rafuel off his feet.

‘My sister Cora is alive?’ Kasabian asked, tears in his eyes.

Lucian nodded.

Kasabian clenched a fist and pressed a kiss to it, a thanks to the gods.

Rafuel shoved Jory away with affectionate irritation.

‘And this is why they couldn’t know,’ he said, pointing to Harker and Kasabian. ‘Look at them. Do they look like grieving men?’

Harker caught Rafuel in an embrace and Lucian watched as Rafuel held the older man in his arms, tenderly. ‘I’ve lost them twice,’ Harker wept. ‘I sometimes wake in the night and can barely breathe.’

‘We’ll have to tell that idiot Gies,’ Kasabian said. ‘He’ll want to know that his Ginny is alive.’

Rafuel shook his head emphatically.

‘Gies has become one of Donashe’s men. We cannot trust him. I need to go now. Trust no one.’

The men embraced again.

‘It may be some time before you see the women,’ Rafuel said. ‘I beg your patience, friends. Nothing gets in the way of Quintana of Charyn’s safety. She is the only hope we have left in this kingdom, and she is as helpless as the babe she carries.’

Phaedra watched as Quintana waited and pounced, saw the satisfaction on their strange princess’s face as she removed the writhing trout from her spear and tossed it onto the ground. Phaedra tried next and almost succeeded, but it was always Quintana who caught them.

‘I almost had it,’ Phaedra said.

‘Almost isn’t enough, Phaedra,’ Quintana said.

The women had joined them today, much to Quintana’s annoyance, but all seemed well-behaved. Florenza showed a great talent for trout-spearing and by the end of the afternoon she was looking as savage as Quintana. Ginny, on the other hand, did little to help.

‘Is there anything you’re good at except for complaining and pining for men?’ Cora asked Ginny as she scaled the fish with one of Quintana’s sharp stones.

‘Well, if you really must know, I’m a great seamstress,’ Ginny said.

‘Oh good, good. Much needed at the moment,’ Jorja said. ‘When we get invited to that feast at the Nebian ambassador’s home, you’ll be the first person we have in mind, Ginny.’

‘Why would you move from your village if you had such a talent?’ Phaedra asked, trying to grip a wriggling fish in both hands and failing. It hit the water with a plonk and she dared not look at Quintana.

‘Because I’m not privileged or born last, Phaedra,’ Ginny said, spite in her voice, as if she was speaking to a fool. ‘I had the misfortune of living in a village where the girls closest to me in age were lastborns. Five of them. Five!’ she said, as if the disbelief of it all was still raw. ‘Most villages had one, maybe two. But
five
?’

‘Five, you say?’ Quintana murmured, not looking up. Phaedra hid a smile.

‘If you weren’t a lastborn girl in my village, you were nothing,’ Ginny continued, oblivious to Quintana’s mockery. ‘They were given gifts all the year long. Even the privy cleaner’s daughter was considered better than me.
The privy cleaner’s daughter!
When they turned ten, the village threw the grandest of celebrations. I played with the lastborns every day of my life and was given nothing.’

Quintana seemed genuinely confused.

‘I’m not quite sure what your point is, Ginny,’ she said. ‘Were you poisoned? Were you pinned under the heaving body of a man who smelled of pig fat and onions? Was your head held under water so the half-dead could clamber for your spirit?’

They stared at Quintana, horrified. Was she speaking of her experiences or those of others?

‘It’s very easy for you to be so offhand, Your Majesty,’ Ginny said. ‘When there were those of us in Charyn who truly suffered while you enjoyed a privileged life in the Citavita.’

‘But you haven’t actually come to the point where you’ve suffered yet,’ Quintana said. ‘Apart from not getting as many presents when you turned ten. So I’m getting quite bored, Ginny, and I’m going to be tempted to slice off your tongue any moment now.’

Quintana was gutting the fish with savagery and Phaedra thought she would surely carry out her threat.

‘I was good with dyes, if you must know,’ Ginny continued. ‘What I could do with fabric was a gift from the gods. My mother was an alchemist who worked with colours and one time I made a dress of indigo.’

Florenza, who loved pretty things, seemed the only one interested.

‘What colour is that?’ she asked.

‘A much richer shade than the sky. The darkest of blue.’

Florenza liked the idea of it.

‘If we ever attend a feast again, Mother, I’ll have Ginny make me a gown.’

‘You crawled through shit, Florenza,’ Ginny said, her voice nasty. ‘Do you honestly think the nobility is going to invite you anywhere ever again?’

Florenza began to gag and they all sent Ginny scathing looks. Apart from what the memory of the sewers did to Florenza, it was a sickening sound to listen to. Jorja placed an arm around her daughter, fussing quietly.

‘You have the prettiest face in Charyn,’ she reassured Florenza. ‘The Lumateran nobility won’t be able to resist you when they let us in.’ But Florenza began to retch again and Jorja held
her daughter’s hair from her brow. Phaedra wondered how long it would take Jorja to accept that the Queen of Lumatere was never going to allow any of them into her kingdom.

‘You people of privilege understand nothing,’ Ginny said.

‘I thought lastborns understood nothing,’ Quintana said, but her attention was on Florenza, who was still retching.

‘All of them. The privileged. The lastborns. The hags who could never get a man,’ Ginny added, looking at Cora.

‘Yes, well, I curse the gods every day for that one,’ Cora said, her tone dry.

‘The tailor’s sister was a hag,’ Ginny continued. ‘When the day came for the tailor to chose his apprentices, guess who he chose? A lastborn girl.
Our precious ones
,’ she mimicked. ‘I hardly existed until Gies came travelling through the village last autumn. Some men don’t care whether you’re lastborns or not.’ Ginny looked smug. ‘Not when they enjoy the pleasure you can bring to them. If you ever get the Mont back, Phaedra, I’ll teach you a thing or two about how to hold onto him.’

Phaedra face smarted, but she watched Quintana get to her feet, one hand on her belly, the other on her back. The Princess walked to where Florenza was still retching and weeping. When Jorja noticed Quintana approaching her daughter with the spear, she put a shaking hand on Florenza’s shoulder to quieten her. No one spoke as Quintana bent before Florenza, gripping the girl’s face with one hand, studying it hard.

‘Our spirit is mightier than the filth of our memories, Florenza of Nebia. Remember that, or you’ll be vomiting for the rest of your life.’

Florenza stared up at Quintana and something passed between them as she nodded solemnly and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘And Tippideaux of Paladozza, the Provincaro De Lancey’s
daughter, has the prettiest face in Charyn,’ she continued to inform them all. ‘Not you. So don’t believe a word your mother says.’

She stood up and looked down at their bounty of fish, satisfied.

‘If we can build a fire tonight, we’ll eat well,’ she said. ‘Phaedra and I will collect the kindling.’

‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Cora asked. ‘You’re beginning to waddle with that load.’

‘Waddling helps me clear my head of your voices,’ Quintana responded. ‘It lessens my need to kill you all.’

‘Then off you go,’ Cora muttered. ‘Keep an eye on her, Phaedra.’

Quintana was up to something. That Phaedra knew. All the same, she followed her into the undergrowth, picking up anything that could pass as kindling. There was plenty to choose from and Phaedra hummed as she worked, pleased with what she was able to collect.

‘I’m getting good at this,’ she said to Quintana, holding up her bundle of twigs for emphasis.

They reached a steep slope that afforded them a view of a lower clearing.

‘Put it down,’ Quintana ordered. ‘Let’s go.’

Phaedra stared at her stash. ‘Go where?’ she asked.

Quintana was already gripping a vine and half-sliding down the incline. Phaedra dropped the kindling and quickly followed.

‘You’re going to hurt yourself!’

‘He’s down there,’ Quintana whispered when Phaedra caught up with her, both of them hiding behind a waterberry tree.

‘Who?’

‘He’ll arm us. I know he will.’

‘
Who?
’

Quintana pointed down. In a deep, narrow gully Tesadora was bent over, tugging at the exposed roots of plants growing around its edges. But it was her lover Perri that Quintana was pointing at. He sat with his back against a tree in some sort of contemplation. Quintana went to step out and Phaedra dragged her back.

‘If you dare mention what I saw them do, I will …’

They both heard a sound and looked up to see the Lumateran on his feet, alerted to their presence.

Tesadora noticed them as well, and climbed to where her lover stood, whispering to him, her eyes on Quintana with un bridled love.

‘You there, Lumateran,’ Quintana called out. ‘You’re to make me a few scabbards.’ Phaedra cringed, listening to the demand spoken in Charyn as if the Queen’s Guard would understand every word.

Quintana walked closer, handing Phaedra her spear to hold.

‘Like the ones you made him. Here. Here. And here.’ She pointed to both wrists and her shoulders. ‘So when they come to attack, I’ll …’

And then she did a quick show of what she’d do. Phaedra was quite enthralled. Perri studied Quintana and then a chuckle escaped from his lips. Quintana reached him and he held out a hand to gently touch her face. ‘What have we got here?’ he said in strange wonder.

Tesadora’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Tell her,’ she urged her lover. ‘Tell her about Froi. She’ll want to know.’

Quintana heard the name and clenched her fists so tight that Phaedra found herself dropping the spear and gripping both the girl’s hands, loosening her fingers.

‘You’re going to draw blood. Stop it.’

And blood she drew, but not her own. Quintana’s nails dug deep into Phaedra’s hands.

‘Let Phaedra go,’ Tesadora ordered gently. ‘You’re hurting her, Quintana.’

But she didn’t let go and Phaedra fought hard not to cry out in pain. And then Quintana was a heap on the ground before them as if she had willed the breath inside her to stop. Tesadora and Phaedra fell beside her. Perri didn’t speak, but when Quintana looked up to him, his smile was bittersweet.

‘So you’re the one Froi is running around Charyn searching for?’

‘Did he say my name?’ she asked, her voice cold. But Phaedra had learned to listen to the words and not the voice. The words craved love. The words were those that Phaedra thought over and over again at night. Did Lucian say her name? Did he think it or murmur it in his sleep like she did his?

Phaedra translated the Queen’s words, but Perri understood them well enough.

‘Did he have to?’ he asked Quintana. ‘When your name is written all over his heart?’