Secrets of the Night Special Edition (37 page)

“Surely you will find a good woman to care for. I pray to the Goddess that you will.” She squeezed his hand, and once more, a myriad of visions exploded in her brain. She saw a woman with blue eyes and silvery hair, and a split second later, the same woman dancing around a fire. Her keen intuition told her this was a vision of the future.

A warning flashed in her head.
Beware of this woman.

* * *

As the last faint stars faded from the heavens and the first hint of sunrise touched the western horizon with a lavender glow, Keriam left the palace to walk outside along the graveled garden path. The luscious scent of night-blooming paconia floated through the air, the many flowers waving their heads in a light breeze. Dew glimmered on the grass, sparkling like crystal in the early morning light. The state dinner had lasted for hours, the guests only now leaving for their rooms. With much on her mind and unable to sleep, she had sought solitude away from the talk and laughter that still echoed in her ears. The breeze picked up, loosening locks of hair from the pins, her dress swirling around her ankles. Her slippered feet crunched along the gravel as she moved a few yards from the palace, heading for the small woods behind the palace grounds, and stopped to rest beside a majestic oak. Breathing in the cool night air, she closed her eyes, trying to forget–if only for a while–the threat against her father and the steps she must take to counter the menace.

All about her, tiny fairies slumbered in bushes and tree branches, their silvery wings spread out at their sides, a peaceful expression on their faces. Ah, to know such serenity.

Thoughts of Balor froze her stomach. The previous images of her father and the general continued to bombard her, scenes she’d remember for the rest of her days. Was this the hold the general had over the king, this cunning man who had once saved her father’s life? This man, trusted by his soldiers and revered by the nation, now plotted to kill her father.

She may have been pampered and protected as a child, but she was a woman now. It was time to act on her own, make her own decisions. Tomorrow, she would warn her father, beg, do anything to have Balor dismissed from command and exiled, or better still, imprisoned to face trial. On what basis could she make the charges? She wondered as the rising sun gilded the landscape. She could never reveal her means of discovering the plot. It would hurt her father too much if he learned of her nightly journeys. He’d surely suspect she practiced magic.

Dismissing Balor might present difficulties for her father. How popular was the general with his troops? Was their loyalty to the man or to the country? If it was the former, she feared they would revolt at his dismissal.

On her own, she had doubled the outside palace guard, reminding these sentries to be ever alert and never permit any suspicious people past the doors. Those extra men greatly relieved her mind, but much remained to do, matters she must execute in the coming days.

What about Roric Gamal? How did the major figure into the plot? He was more than a lackey, of that she was sure. She intended to find out. And then have him imprisoned to face his punishment.

A crunching on the gravel made her spin around to see the object of her recent thoughts. Her heart fluttered and she quickly tried to suppress her excitement. If this man is the enemy, she wondered, why do I feel such excitement when he is near? She must remain strong, must never succumb to any emotional weakness. He stood in the pale early morning light, but his tall stature, his erect carriage, as if he ruled the land, left no doubt of his identity.

Roric Gamal moved closer. “Forgive me, madam. I didn’t know you were here. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t disturb me, major.”
Ah, no?
Her heart continued to beat fast, her every sense alive to his presence, his dark hair ruffling in the breeze, a slight citrus aroma clinging to him, the fit of his tunic stretched across his broad chest and shoulders.” The reception lasted long, didn’t it?”

“Indeed. Yet I believe it had the necessary effect on King Barzad. I feel sure he will be amenable to a treaty between our two countries.”

But that’s not what you want, is it?
Roric Gamal would like nothing better than to see her father fail, to see him assassinated! This man is a treacherous liar, she reminded herself yet again. She must always remain vigilant in his presence. For now, she needed to be alone, needed to escape his tempting proximity.

“Time I sought my bed. Goodnight, major.”

He made a slight bow. “Goodnight, Princess Keriam. May you sleep well.”

Not if he continued to taunt her thoughts.

* * *

Clouds darkened the sky in the west, and thunder rumbled in the distance as Roric rode his horse along the same dirt road he’d traversed the previous week. Now would be a good time to visit that witch, Radegunda, his return from a recent mission having taken him along that route. He would see if her wounds had healed, but more important, warn her once more against practicing magic. His hands clenched the reins as her words came back to haunt him.
If I wanted to, I could change into a rabbit.

Memories of his family distracted him from the pang of worry–of Balor’s betrayal and the king’s safety. His family, he mused with affection. Would he ever find the time to visit them again? It had been a long time since he’d last seen his parents and younger brother and sister. Why, before he knew it, his nieces and nephews would be grown, not even remembering him. But he couldn’t leave Moytura now, not when the plot against the king threatened.

Above all, he missed his wife and baby son. But the child had died with Branwen on the day of his birth, both victims of evil witchcraft. Surprised to find tears streaming down his face, Roric brushed them away.

As Donn followed a curve in the road, angry gray clouds gathered above. The horse topped a hill and cantered down into a valley, where trees and bushes grew lush with springtime growth. The wind picked up, the grass and tender new crops flattening in waves, Roric’s plaid cloak whipping about him. The smell of rain pervaded the air. Thunder boomed again, then raindrops fell, thick, heavy drops that soon became a downpour. Lightning scorched the sky, shortly followed by another thunderclap. Donn neighed with fear, rearing up on his forelegs. Roric patted the stallion, relieved when his destination came in sight. Within minutes, he arrived at Radegunda’s property and pulled on the reins.

The house was gone, only wet, blackened timbers remaining. Scanning the grounds, Roric urged his mount closer. Who had burned the house–Radegunda herself, to escape prosecution–or one of her enemies? If it were the latter, there was no need to question why. She practiced witchcraft, no doubt arousing fear in all who knew her. But where had she gone, or had she, poor woman, burned to death?

He shuddered and dismounted, then strode among the blackened logs, his booted feet shoving aside a cauldron, pans, and iron bedstead, all her belongings that had survived the inferno. The rain came in torrents now, thick sheets of water that blurred his vision. He moved among Radegunda’s few possessions, his boots squishing in the mud, all but pulling loose with every step. He raised his tunic bottom to wipe his face, a futile effort, for rain continued to pour. While he surveyed her possessions, the rain slowed to a drizzle, then stopped, the sky gradually clearing, the sun beginning to peek through the clouds. A brilliant rainbow stretched across a vast blue expanse.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a movement in the vegetable garden. He took several steps in that direction, his gaze searching among the carrots, kale, and endive, the many herbs that flourished in the rich soil. After seconds of intense scrutiny he saw the object of his search. His breath caught as he realized what lurked among the vegetables.

A brown rabbit.

* **

A few days following the reception, Keriam joined her father for the mid-day meal. This was their first time together since the gathering, because the Elegian king had stayed for several days, both men occupied with the pending treaty. In spite of her pleadings to talk to her father, Tencien had told her he couldn’t spare a moment. She’d fumed for days, mindful of the passing time, of the danger than menaced. She breathed a sigh of relief now at the chance to speak to him. She must convince her father to dismiss Balor.

Candles in iron wall brackets brightened the room on this cloudy day. She picked at her food, pushing aside the lamb chop marinated in elderberry wine, one of her favorite dishes but one she couldn’t abide now. How could she enjoy her meal when fear for her father and hatred for the plotters erased every other thought?

The king frowned, his expression a blend of concern and puzzlement. “What troubles you, Kerry? You’ve scarcely eaten a thing. You should be happy, now that we’ve signed the treaty with Elegia.”

“When does it go into effect?” she asked, toying with her wine goblet.

“Not until the marriage between King Barzad and your Aunt Edita takes place. That will be several moonphases from now.”

“Well, of course, I’m happy about the treaty.” She set her fork on her plate. Her heartbeat increased with the certainty that she could no longer postpone questions about Balor. She licked dry lips and swallowed hard.

“Balor.” She noted her father’s startled look, heightening her anxiety. “Why do you keep him as head of the army when–“

”Why shouldn’t I?” He threw her a look of challenge. “Since when have you started involving yourself in political affairs?”

Since I overheard the plotters, she wanted to say. She eased her plate aside and folded her hands on the table. “The more I see of him, the less I like him. He seems such a devious person.” Spasms racked her stomach, but she affected a calmness she didn’t feel.

“The man has his faults. I agree, Balor is crafty. But he saved my life once when we were younger.”

Ah, yes her earlier vision flashed before her. Hatred and anger burned inside her, a wish to send the fiend to the Underworld. Goddess, the man was evil! Why didn’t her father see that? Or did he, but refused to acknowledge Balor’s wickedness? Her father’s voice snatched her back to the present.

“So I owe him much,” he said. “However, personal feelings have nothing to do with military affairs.” He set his bronze goblet down with a thud.

“Father, I fear his intentions aren’t honorable. Please dismiss him and–“

”Dismiss him? Out of the question. There are many factors here you don’t understand. Most important, he is an excellent military tactician, a talent we will need should we have to fight another war. He inspires loyalty in many powerful people, those whose opinions matter.” He sighed. “Deposing Balor could well cause civil unrest. Even if I wanted to remove him–which I don’t–I’d need my ministers’ approval. Kerry, we could well have a civil war on our hands. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not, but–“

“Sometimes we must make hard choices in life, do things we don’t want to do but which are for the best. This is one of those times.” He tapped the table. “Balor stays.”

She steeled herself to give her father the harsh facts. “What if you knew Balor planned to kill you?”

His arms jerked. “Kill me? Why do you say that?”

She gave him a steady look. “Because I overheard some of his officers discussing your assassination.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“In the palace,” she lied. She would never reveal her preternatural experience at the time she’d overheard the men by the riverbank.

“And Balor? What did he say?”

Her heart plummeted. “He . . . he wasn’t there.”

A stunned look crossed his face. “If he wasn’t there, how do you know he plans my murder?”

“The other men said he was the leader of the plot.”
Ah, how stupid can I be? Why didn’t I think this through better, have a more effective argument?

“Who were these men? Could you point them out?”

Still confused about Roric Gamal’s intentions, she paused, reluctant to mention him. “I don’t know their names.”

Tencien shook his head. “For Talmora’s sake, you’re relying on palace gossip. You don’t even know the names of the so-called conspirators. So you have no proof of the general’s complicity, or that of the others?”

“Not yet. But I intend to find evidence.” Her jaw tightened. “Count on it.”

“You do that. When you have proof, tell me.”

“What kind of proof do you need, Father–an arrow through your heart? Then will you believe me?” She clenched her hands in her lap, her face flaming. What did she have to say or do to convince him?

He pointed a finger at him. “Until you have evidence, I don’t want to hear any more complaints about the general.”

Her father was blind to Balor’s evil, she realized with a sickening knot in her stomach. Much as she loved her father–and she loved him dearly—she had to face his shortcomings. Although a good and conscientious king, Tencien could not bring himself to remove Balor from command, that evil and conniving man who planned to rid himself of the king. Or did her father fear reprisal if he brought charges against the general?

She glanced at her father from under her lashes and found a thoughtful expression on his face. From past experience, she’d learned what that look meant. Despite his dismissive words, he would consider the matter.