Return of the Guardian-King (43 page)

It was worst when his jailers continued to come with word she was outside, wanting to visit him. Part of him had rejoiced to think she was remorseful, that she cared for him after all. The other part—the hard, bitter, cynical part—reminded him how much it would hurt to allow himself to believe that. Of course she would be distressed he was imprisoned. She probably feared it would fall back upon her and she might end up in jail with him.

When Ronesca finally released him two months ago and he learned he’d been demoted from finance secretary to captain of Maddie’s personal guard, he’d been pleased. Not only because he felt himself more suited to the position, but because as captain he could sleep in the barracks with his men. Since Carissa had not redrawn the divorce papers as he’d asked her to, he’d considered doing it himself, just to be done with her once and for all. But he’d had no time with all the preparations for meeting with the Esurhites, and in the end lacked the heart to go through it all again.

Tears had gleamed in her eyes when he’d told her what he feared was to come of Queen Ronesca’s dealings with the southlanders, but he’d refused to let himself be swayed by them, reminding himself that it was Maddie she most feared to lose, not him. Without the First Daughter as patroness, she’d have to support her young son on her own. Taking in sewing or something else she was good at. A harder life than she’d ever known, but life at least.

The notion provoked in him a momentary burst of compassion and regret, but in the end his bitterness overwhelmed all sense of tenderness. He’d said good-bye in a voice whose coldness startled even him.

Now he pushed the memory from his mind, repenting of his angry attitude yet again. It was a product of the Shadow within him he could not afford to indulge tonight. Not when Maddie’s life rested on his remaining strong in the Light.

He returned to the mainland and the royal residence, where Maddie and Ronesca would await their two o’clock in the morning meeting with the enemy. Tiris ul Sadek, the man they were allegedly trading for the king, remained secreted away. So secreted, in fact, that Trap had been unable to learn where he was being held, or even how he’d been conveyed to Peregris. When he asked about a secret prisoner, the man they were going to exchange, he got only blank stares and shrugged shoulders. Which was, he argued with himself, as it should be for so delicate an operation. If the Esurhites found him and broke him out themselves, they’d have no need of surrendering Leyton.

Trap spent the afternoon and evening finalizing plans, seeing all the details were in place and even napping a bit before going early to find the First Daughter so he might speak with her one last time before the meeting.

She sat alone, reading, in the main room of her second-story suite. Seeing him, she closed her book with a grimace. “Please tell me you’ve not come to try to change my mind again, Trap.”

“Where’s the queen?”

“Praying for the success of our venture, of course. As you knew she would be.”

He frowned, paced a turn about the room, then faced her, noting anew how drawn her face was and the dark shadows under her eyes. “Ma’am—”

“I know. You have a bad feeling about it.” She grimaced again. “I don’t have a very good feeling about it, either. Whatever else he may be, Tiris has been a friend. And from all I hear, our ally.”

“It’s not Tiris that concerns me. Madam, please! Plead a headache. Plead illness. Plead anything at all. Just don’t go out there tonight.”

“You know I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice. This is madness! Think of your boys! Think of Abby. . . .”

“Didn’t our Kiriathan compatriots already settle that? You and Carissa serving as foster parents should I marry someone unacceptable?”

He frowned. “Carissa and I . . .” His voice died. Despite all his efforts to harden himself to the pain, admitting his loss and failure still hurt abominably. He’d wanted so much for things to work out between them, but—
Stop now. Do not go down that road. . . .

Maddie shook her head. “She loves you, Trap. She truly does. And your refusals to forgive her are killing her. As they are killing you. Do you have any idea why she even did what she did that night?”

He snorted derisively. “I kissed her and she didn’t appreciate it. Too much boldness from the swordmaster’s son.”

“Too bold? You were not bold enough! You kissed her so carefully she thought you didn’t mean it!”

He gaped at her. “That’s absurd. I wouldn’t have kissed her at all if I didn’t mean it!”

“Have you talked to her? Have you let her explain herself? No. She’s tried over and over, and you shut her out completely.” She stood to face him. “You’re being a fool about this, Trap Meridon. A petty, self-absorbed fool. And if you can’t find it in yourself to bend, you really will lose her. For good.”

“I don’t
want
her!”

“Yes you do.” She stared up at him.

He stared back helplessly, then turned away from her. “Why are you doing this, ma’am?! Why are you bringing this up now? And digging at me like this? I don’t—” He broke off in sudden understanding. Swallowed on a dry throat. “Plagues. You know it’s going to go sour tonight, don’t you?”

“I know nothing.” She turned from him and walked to the window, parting the drapes to peer out briefly.

He clenched his fists. “Please, Madeleine. Don’t do this. Tell her you cannot go.”

“I have to.” She let go of the fabric and turned back. “Whatever happens, Eidon will see me through it. I have him always and—” Her voice trembled and broke off as she pressed her fingertips to her lips and looked at the floor.

A wave of anguished grief swept across her face, and she swallowed. He saw her pressing it down, pushing it way, saw the deadness that had been so often in her manner these last few months replace it. He’d heard about Jeyanne’s late-night excursion to cast the amber seeing stone into the river. And though Maddie had told no one why she had done it, he could guess easily enough. Because she had looked in it again, and it had shown her something she hadn’t wanted to see. Something that had knocked the life out of her as it had convinced her finally that Abramm was gone. She’d not told Trap that in so many words, but he’d seen it in her face, and in the things she
didn’t
say these days.

It didn’t give him near the peace he’d thought it would.

She stared at him expressionlessly. “The queen claims she needs me, and I think in some ways she’s right. She is very fragile right now. But still volatile and more spiteful than ever. If I were to refuse her request, what grounds could I give? That I am ill? She is far more ill than I. That I suspect her of the most heinous treachery imaginable? She’d probably send me off to that convent she’s been threatening me with before the evening was over. Take my sons, give them to some Harvadan to raise. . . .”

“At least you’d be alive.”

Her face went dead white beneath the scatter of freckles across her nose. “Maybe I’d rather be in Eidon’s realm.”

He stared at her evenly, refusing even to acknowledge that statement. “And you’d abandon your children? Knowing what they’ve been through? Knowing how devastating it will be for them to lose you?”

She turned from him and returned to her place in the chair. “I don’t believe Ronesca would do the sort of thing you’re suggesting. And anyway, what good would
I
be as a trade? My father is dead. Belthre’gar already has Leyton, and everyone knows Ronesca would suffer little grief losing me. I have no value to the Esurhites whatsoever.”

“You have value as the White Pretender’s woman.”

She flinched as if he’d struck her, her face jerking up to meet his.

“You think she’d never do such a thing?” Trap pressed. “How about in exchange for her sons?”

At that she turned her attention to the book in her lap. After a time she drew a breath and said, “So what should we do? Stage a rebellion? All of us? Refuse to obey the queen and run away?”

“If we must!”

“Where would we go? Where
can
we go? Chesedh is our last hope.”

He frowned at her, dread and sorrow squeezing his chest like a vise.

Soon after that, the oldest of the queen’s pages slipped into the room to tell them it was time. Trap picked up the First Daughter’s cloak from where it lay upon the chair, and laid it over Maddie’s shoulders. She tied it at her throat, then gave him a smile as she patted his arm. “It’ll be all right, my lord duke. I have Eidon always.”

He followed her out of the room to the hall where the queen’s party was assembling to board the carriages that would take them to the waterfront.

Peregris was an ancient port, predating the Ophiran Empire. The harbor had first been dredged over a thousand years ago, and the banks built up with masonry so the big ships could come right up to the quay. It had never been quite deep enough for the biggest sailing boats with their deeper keels, but Chesedh’s galleys could snug up quite comfortably.

It was one of those galleys that the queen and her attendants boarded, and they were immediately escorted to the captain’s stern cabin. Though Trap would have preferred a station immediately outside the cabin, that space was occupied by the queen’s own guard, forcing him and his six men to find places near the ship’s bow.

Barely had they taken up their positions when the ship was cast off from the dock, and shortly the oars were pumping and flashing in unison as they headed out for the island, aglow with torchlight in the deep darkness of the now-moonless night. He stared at it blindly, his anxiety rising as he went through scenario after scenario and what he might do to protect his charge. So deeply was he involved with his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the sailor come up behind him until a soft voice said, “Sir?”

Trap turned to find one of the ship’s officers bowing and touching his cap.
“Cap’n would like a word with you, sir.”

“Of course.” Trap pushed off the gunwale and followed the man through the ship and up the companion to the quarterdeck. The captain stood at the taffrail, looking back toward Peregris as it receded behind them. The mate and two others attended him.

As Trap drew up, the officer turned to him. “Ah, Captain Meridon. Thank you for coming so swiftly.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. There’s just been a change in plans.”

Trap glanced at the mate, standing close at the captain’s elbow, uneasily aware of the other two men—brawny sailors, both—stepping away from the rail to stand at Trap’s sides.

The captain was shaking his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you’ll not be accompanying us to the island.”

Trap stared at him. “I am the First Daughter’s chosen escort.”

“I know, sir. And I really
am
sorry. It’s just how it has to be.” He seemed far too remorseful for the situation, which put Trap off-balance even as it triggered an unfocused alarm.

The captain’s eyes flicked to the man beyond Trap’s left shoulder, and Trap was turning toward him when the blade plunged into his back. It entered just under his left shoulder blade, a cold, strange pressure driving through his chest that shocked him emotionally and mentally as much as physically. Before he could even begin to regather himself, his lungs erupted in fire, and when he breathed he felt a liquid gurgling where no liquid should be.

His sword came out of nowhere, drawn by an instinct that circumvented thought, and flashing in the ship’s lanterns. Too late. The knife blade twisted deep his chest, and he gasped, then could not draw another breath. Brightness blasted away the night shadows as hard hands gripped his arms and the deck spun away from him. More hands gripped his legs. Something smashed into his hip and the hands released him. For a moment he floated, completely disoriented. Then he plunged into the sea’s cold, dark embrace, the shock of contact forcing him to inhale a full breath before he could stop himself. As oblivion took him, his stunned mind churned toward the realization that now he’d never know in this life if Carissa had loved him truly, or not.

Maddie’s misgivings had never been stronger in her life. Surely, though, Ronesca could not be planning to betray her in such a hideous manner as Trap had suggested. She was a devoted servant of Eidon. Had she not brought High Kohal Minirth with her in this endeavor? How could they both be involved in the giving over of the First Daughter of the royal house to the enemy? It went against all Eidon’s commands. Minirth would seriously compromise his standing and create an uproar in a church already fractured by increasing numbers of sects.

Still, there was no denying Ronesca was gravely ill. She’d lost considerable weight, her cheekbones angled sharply now beneath pale skin stretched tautly over them. She hadn’t been eating at all that Maddie could see. People said she’d been fasting too much, but she’d not announced it if she was, and she always made a point of announcing it. Her skin had a perpetual sheen of moisture, as if she were fevered. And then there was the smell—acidic, sour, growing stronger by the day. Maddie feared it was the black spore, and if it was, there was no telling what sort of things Ronesca might decide to do.

As they were settled into the captain’s cabin and the steward brought tea, Maddie looked around at the small party gathered there and asked about Draek Tiris. “I thought he would be coming with us once we were on the island.”