Tor allowed the Queen to lead him to a beautifully carved window seat. ‘Please,’ she said gently and motioned for him to sit.
He did so but something nagged insistently at his mind.
‘What business do you have in Cipres, Physic Gynt?’ she asked, joining him on the window seat.
‘Well, I…er, that is, I am in search of something.’
The feeling grew stronger. He looked closely at the woman sitting next to him. Her breasts were full and shown off to their very best effect by her low-cut gown, which itself was dazzling with precious stones sewn into the heavy fabric. Her perfume was rich and heady.
Why did he feel something was not right?
He dropped his shield and ‘listened’ as he liked to consider it. Then all his thoughts fell into place. He almost laughed.
‘Your majesty,’ he said, standing.
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, not you, my lady,’ he said to the woman
sitting next to him in all her finery. ‘I mean to address the real Queen Sylven, behind those artful veils.’
He heard a burst of delighted laughter and a clap of hands. This time her majesty, Queen Sylven, stepped out. She was not a young woman but Tor imagined every woman in Cipres would pale in comparison with her. Her natural olive complexion gleamed its health. She wore no false colouring bar the kohl that outlined her feline, almost black eyes which disclosed her exotic heritage. She was tall, much taller than the impostor, and devoid of jewellery. Her gown of rich cream revealed the flawless, polished skin of her neck and the tops of her arms but the rest of her body was modestly covered. Tor could not see her slippers but wondered if they matched her gown. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a thick single plait and he could see that it was still naturally black. She was utterly radiant and her height and slimness reminded him of Queen Nyria.
‘How did you know?’
Tor smiled. ‘That was a fine trick, your majesty,’ he said.
‘That is one of my favourite jests. Tell me how you knew,’ she replied and quietly dismissed the jewel-encrusted impostor Queen with a nod.
‘Well, if your state rooms are anything to judge by, then understated sophistication is your trait, your highness,’ he said. ‘I walked through fabulous halls and reception rooms on the way here and yet it was only when Hela brought me into your chambers that I realised I was seeing the true taste of Queen Sylven.’
‘Go on,’ she said, intrigued and amused.
Tor continued. ‘Elegant and clean. Modest yet quietly proud. Strong and practical. Devastatingly beautiful, a beauty which time cannot affect.’
Tor watched her smile at the last.
‘I wish we had met when I was your age, Torkyn Gynt. I think I would have fallen in love with your easy charm.’
It was rare for Queen Sylven to lay open her thoughts in such a way but she found the man in front of her disarming in all respects.
‘Age means nothing, your majesty,’ Tor said and meant it. ‘Queen Nyria, who was almost old enough to be your mother, possessed similar style and poise. Like you, she was a Queen in every aspect of her character. I cannot imagine you ever need to search for male companionship.’
This amused Sylven. ‘My brothel is brimming.’
Tor’s eyes widened. ‘So it is true?’
She gave him a puzzled look and he continued. ‘I heard a rumour many years ago that you kept a brothel. Is there no King of Cipres, or any likelihood of one?’
‘Even if there were, I am sure you Tallinese could never understand that the royal brothel would not be disbanded.’ She loved the look of confusion which swept across his face.
Sylven took his arm and guided him to sit down once again. He noticed that her hand was soft and unwrinkled. It was impossible to judge the age of this woman. She was certainly years Alyssa’s senior, yet younger than Nyria. That would have to put her somewhere beyond thirty summers but before forty.
‘Allow me to enlighten you about Ciprean royal tradition, Tor. May I call you Tor?’
He nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Cipres has never been ruled by a man. As a consequence of tradition and centuries-old magic, the crown is always handed down to a woman. The Queen chooses her mate and, through secret powers of her own, ensures that a daughter is born. The lover is no longer required. The Princess becomes Queen at her rightful time. The Queen of Cipres has absolute power over all her subjects and she is taught to be magnanimous towards them; she is their protector and will see no harm come to her people. There are no poor in Cipres.’
Tor agreed. ‘I can guess that from the homes I saw just briefly.’
‘There are always less fortunate people, for many reasons. But we care for those who fall into trouble or despair. We give all our people the chance to better themselves. No child goes hungry. No one goes without lodging. All our people are educated. Our farms thrive.’
‘We could all learn from the way of Cipres, your majesty.’
She nodded, knowing he meant this compliment. ‘And, in return, the people give their absolute loyalty to the Queen.’
‘Is there a Princess, your majesty?’
‘Indeed there is. Her name is Sarel. She is presently but twelve summers. Still a girl, but her father was carefully chosen and Sarel will be a great Queen one day. For now though, I expect her to enjoy being
a child.’ She sighed. ‘I fear my mother and grandmother never quite grasped the importance of being allowed to play and enjoy as normal a childhood as can be permitted for a royal.’
‘You have great insight, Queen Sylven. I am sure that ensuring freedom for Sarel now will reward you in later years.’
‘I hope so. She will have a vast and powerful realm to rule. She must have no regrets about her role.’
Tor looked wistfully from the window where they sat. ‘I was thinking as I looked out over the city, your majesty, how I could easily fall in love with Cipres and live here.’
She looked surprised. ‘But Tor, we would welcome you here with open arms. Physics are always in high demand.’
He shook his head. ‘But I cannot, Queen Sylven. I have tasks ahead of me which I do not relish but which must be done.’
‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, I hope you will tell me more. Come, let us stroll the gardens together, and then why not join me for dinner?’
‘I would be honoured,’ he replied.
Much later that evening, while sipping sweet wine and munching on exotic fruits, Tor wished he really could forget the past and make a new life here. Sitting out on one of the many fine balconies of the Ciprean palace, shielded from the cool breeze by
the tall, sentry-like trees and warmed by many braziers, he felt relaxed for possibly the first time in years.
He and Queen Sylven had spent the entire afternoon together and thoroughly enjoyed one another’s companionship. Sylven possessed a sharp intelligence which Tor would have found attractive in any man or woman, and her wit was deeply engaging. He was in no hurry for the evening to end.
The feeling appeared to be mutual as Sylven ordered another jug of wine to be brought out to them. Tor stretched languidly and once again felt an appreciative glance sweep over him.
‘You never did tell me how you worked out my fine trick.’
Tor knew it was dangerous to tell anyone of his powers, but his instincts told him there was no threat here, only friendship.
He took the risk. ‘I am sentient, your majesty.’
She was pouring him another goblet of the sweet wine but stopped. His comment had obviously taken her by surprise.
‘You jest, of course?’
‘No, Sylven. It’s true that I did make some crucial observations,’ he grinned at her open mouth, ‘but, in all honesty, I relied on my ability to sniff out magic. Congratulations, it is a fine trick.’
He took his half-filled goblet from her long fingers.
‘Prove it!’ she demanded, her eyes glinting with high amusement.
‘Tell me how and I shall do it.’
‘All right.’ She closed her eyes. ‘What am I thinking?’
Tor cast. He caught the thought and laughed. ‘I’m not going to repeat it out loud but I shall be delighted to do that to you.’
Sylven shrieked. She was deliciously excited now. ‘That’s just you teasing. You couldn’t know what I was thinking, you wretch.’
Tor was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had used his power for fun. The last occasion was as a child, when he had done whatever he could to amuse Alyssa and hear that wonderful laugh of hers. When Sylven laughed it was not dissimilar to the undisguised mirth of the young Alyssa and he enjoyed the gentle reminder of the woman he adored but could not have.
‘No,’ the Queen said shaking her head, ‘you will have to do something much more dramatic.’
Tor dragged his mind away from Alyssa and back to the present. While he was thinking, the jug Sylven had ordered arrived and was put down in front of them.
The Queen was quick to dismiss her servant. ‘Thank you. We wish for privacy now.’
‘Yes, your majesty,’ the servant whispered and discreetly disappeared.
‘We are alone, Tor, show off your magic!’ she commanded.
He decided to perform a trick which had terrified Merkhud but which he knew would thrill Sylven. In the blink of an eye, Tor disappeared. The Queen screamed with delight.
‘Shh!’ Tor warned, reappearing immediately. ‘You’ll have them running from all corners. They’ll chop my head off before I have time to explain.’
Sylven’s perfectly manicured hands covered her mouth but her eyes betrayed her excitement, and her complete disbelief at what she had just witnessed. ‘What else can you do?’ she whispered.
Tor shook his head. ‘I am not a performing animal, your majesty. I have sentient ability; that’s it. I can…’ he searched for the words, ‘sense things.’ He did not feel it appropriate to explain the full breadth of his powers. ‘And you, your highness, how far do your powers extend?’
‘Tor, if I could do what you just did, I would be the most powerful sovereign of all the lands in all the world. I still cannot believe you did that,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘Your majesty, may I request that this be kept private between us? I am not in the habit of boasting about my power.’
She grinned. ‘Only to sovereigns?’
‘No,’ Tor said, leaning across and taking her hand. ‘Not to just any sovereign, only indescribably beautiful ones.’
‘You will stay the night with me, Torkyn Gynt. I should like to see in which other ways you can use this mighty power.’
If it had not been for the cushioning barrier of trees, the Cipreans would have heard their Queen’s and her guest’s laughter almost as far away as the city’s centre.
When Tor awoke between Sylven’s silk sheets, the Queen’s side of the bed was cool. She had obviously arisen some time ago. He blinked and rolled over to stare through the doors leading onto her private balcony. It was beautifully cool and silent out there. The sun was not yet high and the colours outside looked watery and dreamy. He had slept long and deeply; the sleep of total relaxation.
Tor recalled the pleasure of the previous night and how much they had enjoyed the erotic finale to a grand day in one another’s company. Sylven looked nothing like Alyssa but all the same she reminded him so much of his wife. Her joy in life and infectious sense of humour had consumed him and his years of grief and loneliness had been released during a passionate
exchange. Sylven enjoyed men and she was certainly not shy about showing him how to please her.
Tor must have drifted off briefly again because this time he opened his eyes to the sound of quiet voices on the balcony. It was Sylven talking with one of her maids. He wrapped a linen around himself and stepped through the doors. Neither of the women were embarrassed by his semi-nakedness; the maid even looked appraisingly at his body.
The Queen made a sound of disapproval. ‘Tor, you’ll catch your death out here. Hela, fetch a wrap, please.’
Hela departed and was back in a blink with a beautifully weaved cloth of the finest wool. It looked light in her hands but once Tor threw it around himself, he marvelled at the instant warmth.
Sylven grinned. ‘Galinga goat. Very precious, very rare.’
Hela put a steaming mug of chicana in Tor’s hand and he raised it to his lips. It tasted amazingly good.
‘And very expensive, no doubt,’ he said, bending to kiss Sylven’s hair.
The Queen accepted his affection and proceeded to sign some paperwork. While she read, Tor quietly sat himself down to inhale the crisp morning air. It was perfumed by the exotic flowers from the palace gardens he had explored the previous day. He felt comfortable and serene. He sipped his chicana and turned to watch Sylven.
The Queen knew his eyes were on her but did not look up. ‘I do not enjoy the formal part of running a
Kingdom, you know. I love getting out and being with my people but I despise all these papers and signings and treaties and…’
Sylven stopped at Tor’s chuckle. ‘It’s a lot of work,’ she admonished, reaching for a sugar-encrusted pastry.
Tor helped himself to one of the delicacies as well. ‘I realise this,’ he said, taking a bite. ‘I’m laughing because you sound exactly like King Lorys of Tallinor. Oh, this is good.’ He took another huge chunk.
‘Really?’
He struggled to get the words out of his pastry-filled mouth. ‘Yes, absolutely delicious.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I mean about King Lorys! Tell me about him. I hear he’s handsome and—forgive how callous this sounds—but he must also be very eligible now.’
Tor nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose he is. Lorys is a good-looking man. Perhaps not as tall as you, your majesty, but he carries his kingliness with great nobility. He possesses a sharp mind and great wit, loves to hunt and race, adores his people…and complains incessantly about paperwork.’
The Queen smiled. ‘I know how he feels. And is he true, Tor?’
‘True?’
‘Faithful.’
‘Your majesty, I cannot answer that,’ Tor replied, remembering how Lorys had looked at Alyssa the first time he set eyes on her. It had been a look of raw desire. ‘He is a man, after all.’
‘Indeed,’ she said cryptically. ‘Do you think he will remarry?’
Tor finished his pastry and licked the sugar flakes from his lips. ‘Now that question is beyond me. He is young enough at fifty summers. Finding a woman who would match him as well as Nyria would be a difficult task though.’
‘Why? Surely there must be plenty of nobles only too happy to marry off their youngest and prettiest to become Queen of Tallinor?’
‘Light, yes! But knowing Lorys as I do, or did a few years ago, I think he would prefer an unknown. A girl who would hold some mystery for the other courtiers. You know, I think he’d sooner fall in love with a girl from one of his tiny villages than a worldly city sort. Lorys and Nyria, as I understand it, were childhood sweethearts,’ Tor added wistfully, almost as though thinking aloud.
‘Have you ever loved anyone like that, Tor? I mean, friends first, true lovers later?’ Sylven suddenly asked.
He did not want to answer this question and yet Sylven’s directness demanded reciprocal honesty from him. ‘I have.’
‘Ooh,’ she said, grabbing another pastry, loving the intrigue.
‘I still do,’ he said very quietly.
‘I heard that! You still do! Who is she?’
Sylven noticed Tor’s discomfort. He was being very honest with her; she liked this in him. Tor had intrigued her from the first moment she saw him and
his combination of sophistication and naivety, strength and gentleness, arrogance and humility fascinated her. One moment he was a small, lost boy and the other a brave man who appeared to carry a great weight on his shoulders. And now he was revealing a long-lost love! It fitted him perfectly: the man who loved the woman he could never have.
‘Is she not yours, Tor?’
‘She will always be mine,’ he replied, sadly. ‘We just can’t be together.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh…circumstances.’
Sylven was not to be put off by his evasiveness. ‘Where is she?’
‘Tal.’
‘But she’s not from the city, I’m guessing?’
He snorted. ‘No. Alyssa is from a little place called Mallee Marsh; a more simple and uneventful village you will not find, Sylven.’
‘And I’m also guessing that she’s pretty beyond words?’
He summoned the face he loved. ‘Golden hair. Green-grey eyes. Honeyed skin. Petite, funny, intelligent; she’s just…adorable.’
‘Now I’m jealous,’ Sylven pouted.
‘Don’t be.’ Tor smiled. ‘You remind me of her in a curious way.’
‘Thank you. I do believe that’s a fine compliment. Oh, you know what?’ Sylven’s eyes lit with a wicked idea. ‘I’ve just had a brilliant thought. Lorys and Alyssa.’
She watched Tor pull a face as she finished her pastry. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said firmly.
She dusted the sugar from her fingers. ‘Why not? She is all the things you described the King of Tallinor would want. A girl with no past—well, a past that the courtiers have had no involvement with. She is Tallinese and from a village—she is poor, I take it?’
Tor nodded.
‘She’s adorable—you said it yourself—and you also described someone who is very easy on the eye and clever. I think they make a perfect match. King Lorys and Queen Alyssa.’
Sylven raised her cup in a mock toast.
‘I can’t drink to that, your majesty. Alyssa despises the King. She hates him more than a true enemy of the realm could. She would never marry the King of Tallinor.’
‘Every girl dreams of being Queen, Tor.’
‘Not this one.’
Sylven was thoroughly enjoying this conversation and how it was unsettling Tor.
‘Why would she hate a King whom you yourself have just described as almost perfect? What could he possibly have done to make a village girl hate him so much?’
There was a long and uncomfortable pause. Sylven wondered if she had pushed too far.
‘He took me away from her, your majesty,’ Tor said finally, his face no longer showing any sign of amusement.
Before she could reply, the city’s bells began to toll. They both put down their mugs and moved to the edge of the concealed balcony. Sylven was glad the bells had saved them from wherever their discussion was going and was relieved to see Tor had lost that defensive look.
‘Those bells sound urgent,’ he commented.
‘They sound death,’ she replied.
He looked at her, puzzled. The Queen moved nearer and he put his arm around her and pulled her close. She enjoyed the sensation. Usually she banished lovers from her harem within minutes of performing their duties. She could not bear them hanging around or, worse, falling in love with her. They were servants, that’s all.
Torkyn Gynt was different.
She had desired him from the outset; now she was discovering that she wanted his affections not just his urgent lovemaking. Sylven wanted more of this man; all of him!
‘Your friend, Locky,’ she said and Tor nodded. ‘He has demanded that the sailor, Haryd, undergo the Kiss of the Silver Maiden.’
‘Yes. I did not understand it at the time, but there was so much going on with Adongo and then all his people being released that I forgot to find out more.’
Oh dear, she thought. Then this will not be easy for you to hear.
‘The bells are tolling the Day Wait.’
‘I don’t know this custom, Sylven—I don’t know any Ciprean customs.’
The Queen guided him back from the balcony to their comfortable seats near the small braziers.
‘Kissing the Silver Maiden is the worst punishment in Ciprean law. It is a horrible death if it occurs, but the Maiden is not choosy about her victims. She kills innocents as well.’
Tor shrugged. ‘I’m making no sense of this.’
‘The Silver Maiden alone chooses who she will kiss and who she will not. Her kiss, when she delivers it, slices her victim in two, from head to toe.’
Tor looked pleased. ‘I can’t think of anything more suitable for Haryd.’
‘No, wait, Tor. He who calls for this punishment must first risk the Kiss of the Silver Maiden himself. If she spares him, he is deemed truly aggrieved and the person who caused him grievance must then face her wrath.’
Tor looked stunned and a little confused.
She hurried on. ‘Yes, I know what your next question will be. Let me answer it now. The Maiden has a complex series of locks which open and close at random. They allow the blade to pass through or not. The choice is hers alone.’
Now he looked aghast. ‘You mean it’s all down to chance? Locky is playing dice with his life?’
‘Yes, you could say that. Which is why the Silver Maiden is so rarely called upon for her affection. Most who are aggrieved go for the simple sword thrust or a flogging, depending on their level of grievance. But if you wish to call for the highest punishment in the Land
and the most terrifying for your victim, then there is a price to pay.’
‘But what are his chances?’
‘Slim,’ she replied. Honesty was best. ‘We do not tamper with the Maiden. She has her own Keeper and he is a Queen’s man. I trust him completely. The Maiden in her past two outings has not executed anyone. That is four people she has spared. She is hungry for a kill now, I imagine.’
‘Your majesty, with the greatest of respect, you cannot allow this. Locky is still a boy.’
‘A boy making a man’s decision, Tor. He insisted. I cannot refuse him; his grievance must be honoured. This is Ciprean law.’
Tor looked angry now. ‘When does this barbaric event take place?’
Sylven ignored his intended insult. ‘In a few hours, hence the bells. Lorke needed some time to set up the Maiden in the city’s amphitheatre. Her blade had to be sharpened and the locks oiled—’
‘I don’t want to hear any more of this,’ Tor said, beginning to pace. ‘This is terrible. What will I tell Eryn?’ he muttered.
‘Who is Eryn?’
‘Locky’s sister. I am supposed to look out for him.’
‘Tor, this is Locky’s decision. Not yours. Not his sister’s. Even Captain Quist is abiding by the law.’
‘Yes, it’s easy when it’s not your own flesh and blood. Quist is married to Eryn; he is Locky’s brother-in-law, though he acts like the father Locky
never had. Eryn will never forgive her husband. Never!’
‘Tor, you are ranting. You will just have to hope that the Maiden is kind. There is nothing you can do.’
‘I will not stand by and watch your Maiden split Locklyn Gylbyt in half.’
His veiled threat was not lost on the Queen. ‘If you use your magic, Tor—and that’s still a secret between us—I will have no choice but to declare it. We in Cipres are more understanding than your own kind, but we do not tolerate use of magic openly.’
‘I must follow my heart, your majesty,’ he said, standing to leave.
‘And I must follow the laws of my realm.’
‘Is there a law against magic?’
‘It must only be wielded by the Queen for her daughter,’ she said sharply.
‘Then perhaps I might have to taste the Maiden’s Kiss myself, your highness. And it will be at your command.’ He bowed slowly. ‘I should leave now.’
‘Yes, I think you should,’ she said sadly and watched him dress and leave her chambers in silence.
Sylven was not surprised when, a few minutes later, the other recently arrived stranger was brought in by Hela.
‘Your highness.’ The man bowed low.
Obviously used to being in royal company, Sylven thought. ‘I was expecting you,’ she said.
‘You have welcomed me into your palace, your majesty. I feel it is important that I pass on to you my experience of Tallinese life, as you have asked.’
‘Indeed,’ she said in her dry way, which could mean anything.
The stranger was not deterred. ‘Queen Sylven, I must warn you against this man.’
‘You mean Gynt? Why? You said not only yesterday that I would find it interesting should I invite him to the palace.’
Goth gave a short nod, almost a bow, to her accuracy. ‘This is true. When you told me of his presence at the slave markets, I could not believe it was the same man. Suffice to say, I consider him dangerous. Trouble follows him, your highness.’
As this rather detestable, arrogant man grovelled before her, Sylven wondered if he knew of Tor’s powers. She considered it unlikely. No, there was something more than that here; jealousy, perhaps.
‘You were both at the Tal palace together, I presume?’
‘You are correct.’ The man attempted a smile but it appeared on his face as a sneer.
‘But he is charming; most diverting, in fact.’ Sylven enjoyed seeing his face twitch at that comment, not that the wretched fellow seemed to have much control over his ever-moving features.
His black eyes hardened. ‘I would advise you not to permit him in the palace again, your highness. I wish that you would allow me to deal with him for you, perhaps with a small number of your guard,’ he said.