Royal Airs (49 page)

There were terrible sounds of an animal screaming, men shouting, and large bodies falling, and Josetta’s gaze swung back to Rafe’s desperate battle. She was horrified to see him lying on the ground a few feet past the line of shrubbery, his body limp and still. One horse and its rider lay spasming a few yards away, where they must have fallen when their gyrations caused the animal to crash. The remaining soldier steadied his mount with his knees and used both hands to lift his weapon.

Josetta hadn’t even drawn breath to shriek when a body hurtled from the general melee and dragged the attacker off the horse, then pivoted to fling him straight into the tangled border of thorns. There was a struggle, the hard sounds of grunts and curses, and then a strangled cry of a man being choked to death. The unearthly sound was almost the only noise in a place grown suddenly, eerily quiet.

Josetta risked a quick look around. All the horses were riderless. All the Welchin and Malinquese soldiers were brushing themselves off, investigating their own wounds, or dropping to the ground to check on their fallen comrades. Filomara’s phalanx of guards were straightening up and moving away from the empress to join their fellow soliders in assessing the carnage left behind.

“Let me go now,” Josetta panted, shoving at Sorbin, and he swiveled aside to free her.

She was so frantic to get to Rafe that she slipped and almost fell as she dashed away from the temple. There were so many bodies on the roadway; she knew she should stop to see how many brave souls had perished defending her. But all she could think of was Rafe, still lying facedown and motionless on the ground. The man who had saved him now pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled to Rafe’s side, his hands going to Rafe’s exposed neck to search for a pulse. As Josetta tore through the shrubbery to reach them, he looked up at her.

Foley. Foley who had dedicated his life to protecting Josetta, and was now determined to protect anyone else she held dear.

“He’s alive,” Foley said as she dropped down beside him in the dirt. “Bad shoulder wound, but that might be the worst of it.”

She wanted to burst into tears, but she didn’t have time. “I’ll attend to his cuts. Send someone for help. Then make sure the empress and her attendants are safe inside the temple. And Steff! Where is he?”

“I’m here,” said a voice behind her. She turned to see Steff standing there, his face pale with shock, his left hand pressed to a long, ugly graze on his right arm. “Is he—is—”

“Alive,” she said quickly. “But I need to bind him up.”

He came to his knees beside her and for a second she thought he might pass out; maybe his own wound was deeper than it looked. But he pressed his lips together and drew on some inner source of strength and said, “I want to help.”

“Good. Then help me turn him.
Very
gently.”

In the background, Josetta heard the sounds of battle cleanup—soldiers conferring, officers shouting, horses being captured and calmed, bodies being dragged to the side of the road—but she focused all of her attention on the task before her. Rafe’s shoulder was a mess, pierced by a projectile, which appeared to have gone straight through his body. The blood flow was already starting to slow, but there was black residue on his skin, and dirt and debris ground into the wound.

“I need water,” she said as steadily as she could.
I need disinfectanct. I need Callie! I need a true doctor!
“And the cleanest cloth anyone can find, to serve as a bandage.”

Water and cloth miraculously appeared. She suspected one of the Welchin guards had run to the nearest home or shop and stormed in, conscripting supplies on behalf of the crown. And surely another one had been sent off to the nearest medical facility, and true help was even now on its way. Rafe was not the only one injured, although he was the only one she could think of at the moment. Surely there would be a whole convoy of transport elaymotives arriving very shortly to take all of the injured to an infirmary.

She cleaned the wound as gently and thoroughly as she could, directing Steff to hold Rafe down when he flinched away from her touch. He groaned, which she took as a good sign, but he didn’t open his eyes. Which she took as a bad one.

Once she had bound his shoulder, she began investigating his other wounds. A long cut on his left arm, both legs badly scratched through the thin silk of his trousers. But none of those other injuries seemed severe. There was a streak of blood on his cheek, and when she wiped it away, she found a long, shallow slice that ran from his cheekbone and down his neck. Someone had been aiming to cut his throat, she thought, but Rafe had managed to turn away.

She dampened the cloth again and cleaned the rest of the dirt and blood from his face. His long hair had spilled behind him on the ground, making the bones of his face more prominent, exposing his right ear with its distinctive serrations.

You were almost killed because someone recognized this pattern,
she thought, finding a clean patch of the cloth and catching a drop of blood that was trickling toward the thin gold hoops.
How can we ever keep you safe?

Behind her, she heard someone step off the paved roadway and break through the bushes while soft voices spoke imploring words in a language Josetta didn’t understand. When she reluctantly looked away from Rafe’s face, she wasn’t surprised to find Filomara closing in on her, clearly as unwilling as Josetta to sit tamely in the temple until reinforcements arrived. Steff scrambled to his feet in a gesture of deference, but Josetta remained kneeling at Rafe’s side.

“Attacks on the street in broad daylight in public venues!” the empress spat out in Coziquela. “Good thing I
did
have my own soldiers with me, because we
all
would have been dead if we’d had only your men to protect us.”

Josetta felt her own spurt of anger in response, but she kept her voice cool. “Indeed, I was grateful to know your men were protecting you, but Welchin soldiers fought valiantly.”

“And died bravely,” said Foley’s voice from behind them. Josetta thought he might have seen Filomara bearing down on her and hurried over to offer his protection from a very different kind of foe. “Five of our men are dead, and two of the Malinquese soldiers.”

“I’m astonished you have any soldiers left at all if such attacks are everyday occurrences,” said the empress. “I will not feel safe the rest of the time I’m in your wretched city.”

This time Josetta’s tone was sharp. “Such things hardly ever happen. I have lived in Chialto my whole life and never been assaulted.” She gestured back toward the roadway, where even now bodies were being lined up for inspection. “Has anyone identified the attackers yet? I am guessing we will find clues that they’re from Berringey.”

“Berringey!” the empress exclaimed. “So, Ghyaneth opens up war on Welce, after all, though he is still talking alliances.”

It was extremely undiplomatic, but Josetta couldn’t contain her hot reply. “Or he has merely opened his war on
you
. Perhaps
you
were the target of this display.”

The empress’s eyes narrowed as she stared down at Josetta. “Perhaps, but they largely left me alone, and I was visible enough,” she replied slowly. With one booted foot, she pointed at Rafe’s hip. “
He’s
the one they seemed most interested in. Why? Merely because a crown princess fancies herself in love with him?”

“I hardly know,” Josetta began, but something in that still body had caught the empress’s attention. Filomara dropped to a squat and stared intently at Rafe’s face.

“I kept thinking he looked—in a certain light he looked—and lying this way, with his face just so—but it can’t be,” the empress muttered.

Alarm sparked through Josetta, and she looked around for allies. But no one here knew everything she knew. Not even Steff, who had drawn closer as if to overhear Filomara’s thoughts. He was watching the empress as closely as she was watching Rafe.

“Tell me his name again,” the empress demanded.

“Rafe Adova.”

She shook her head. “That’s not right. He’s—”

Then her voice stopped. Perched on the balls of her feet, she swayed forward, had to put a hand to the churned ground to catch her balance. Josetta knew without trying to follow her gaze what the empress had seen.

“Lerafi Filoman Kolavar,” the empress whispered. “My grandson.”

TWENTY-SIX

O
nce the doctor convinced Josetta that Rafe would be fine—sore, maybe feverish, and damned uncomfortable, but out of danger—she was able to enjoy the fight between Darien and the empress of Malinqua.

First, of course, it was always a pleasure to see Darien’s carefully orchestrated plans upended. Whatever he had decided about when to inform Filomara of Rafe’s parentage, he certainly hadn’t envisioned such a dramatic denouement.

Second, Filomara was every bit Darien’s equal in terms of fierceness, intransigence, and cunning. Darien could wear down most other people or he could outmaneuver them or he could convince them he had only their best interests at heart. But Filomara he could not exhaust, outwit, or charm.

“He’s met his match,” Josetta whispered to Zoe as they paused outside the room that used to be King Vernon’s study, listening to the rise and fall of voices through the door. It was close to dinnertime, and the two had been arguing for at least an hour. Ever since the battered cavalcade of bloody soldiers and shaken royals had arrived at the palace courtyard with their recital of calamitous news.

“Good,” Zoe said.

Josetta searched her sister’s face in the soft gaslight of the hallway. “You don’t seem worried or nervous about what’s going to happen next.”

Zoe shrugged. “I think it’s out of my hands. Out of Darien’s and Filomara’s, too. The only person whose opinion is going to matter is Rafe’s.”

“I don’t know—I’m not sure—he was shocked enough to discover his connection to Ghyaneth. Now to find that he’s the heir to two kingdoms—well, I don’t know how clearly he’ll be able to think it through. Especially because people are trying to kill him all the time!”

“And maybe that’s a consideration that will weigh with him heavily,” Zoe said. “Where will he be safest? In Welce, flying Kayle’s aeromotives? Or in Malinqua, sitting on the throne?”

Josetta caught her breath because she hadn’t considered that aspect of it. “In Malinqua, of course,” she whispered. She felt a hand squeeze hard on her protesting heart.
While I am imprisoned inside the palace in Welce . . .

“Maybe,” Zoe said. “But maybe Rafe doesn’t care about his safety.”

“Maybe other people have to care for him, then,” Josetta said dully.

Zoe smiled. “Now, that’s something I learned a long time ago,” she said. “Despite what Darien thinks, you can’t always get people to do what you tell them. Even when it’s indisputably the best thing for them. The most solid, the most dependable, the most hunti man has a little coru in his veins. And no matter how wayward a course of action might be, in the end, he’ll do what he wants.”

From behind the study door came the sounds of glass breaking and Filomara’s angry voice rising. Zoe’s smile grew even wider. “I don’t think they’re going to be done any time soon,” she said cheerfully. “I’m going to check on the baby.” She patted Josetta on the arm. “You go find Rafe.”

 • • • 

R
afe was right where she’d left him, in his room in the men’s wing of the palace. He was awake, sitting up in bed, and being tended to by Steff and Corene. Although Josetta thought Steff and Corene were arguing with each other more than they were seeing to Rafe’s comfort.

At any rate, he looked vastly relieved to see her. “Finally, someone with a little sense,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on here. These two are telling the wildest stories.”

“They’re not
stories
,” Corene said. “They’re true.”

“You weren’t even there this afternoon!” Steff responded. “You don’t know
anything
!”

“I know a lot more about palace intrigue in Welce than you do!”

Josetta ignored them and perched on the edge of the bed to put her hand on Rafe’s forehead. “How do you feel? No fever yet. That’s good.”

“I. Feel. Horrible,” he said. “Like I’ve been stabbed and trampled and burned, and then drowned for good measure.” He closed his eyes briefly to wait out a clutch of pain, and then opened them again to gaze at Josetta. “Why is it that every time you see me, I’ve been beaten up or knocked senseless?”

“You’re always senseless,” Corene contributed from the foot of the bed. “I don’t know about the beaten up part.”

Josetta leaned forward to give him a brief kiss. “You’re not always battered and broken,” she said. “And maybe this will be the last time.”

“I hope so.”

“But what
happened
?” Steff demanded. “Were those men really trying to kill Rafe? And what did the empress mean when she said—when she said—”

Josetta spent another moment with her hand on Rafe’s cheek, her eyes on his face, convincing herself that he was going to survive this latest misadventure. Then she nodded and moved to a chair. Corene and Steff pulled their own chairs closer to listen. Josetta had tried so hard to keep this story from Steff; now he had to learn Rafe’s complex heritage along with his own.

“As best I understand it, Filomara’s daughter Subriella was married off to one of the princes of Berringey about thirty years ago,” she began.

“Wait,” said Steff. “Subriella. Our mother? She was the empress’s daughter?”

“Yes.”

Steff stared at his brother accusingly. “And you
knew
this? And you didn’t
tell
me? We’re—we’ve got royal blood?
Both
of us?”

Rafe was grinning. “Yeah,” he said, “but I’m even more royal than you are. Let her tell the story.”

Josetta resumed. “It’s not clear how much Subriella or her mother knew about the customs that govern Berringey’s royal house, but it turns out that after they’ve identified one clear heir to the throne, most of the other ones are killed off. Once Rafe was born—excuse me, once
Lerafi
was born—someone at the palace had his ear marked with the royal pattern. A couple of years later, Rafe’s cousin Ghyaneth came along and was named the crown prince. That’s when Subriella realized that Rafe didn’t have long to live. She somehow escaped with her baby and made her way to Welce. Filomara was told that both of them were dead.”