The Bloodbound (27 page)

“Considering it, at least. Much will depend on the outcome of your parley, I think.”

“What about the Kingswords, the ones who stayed behind when the rest of us marched to the border? What will they do?”

“Some of the officers belong to the Raven. Others remain loyal to the king. They vie for influence over the rank and file. How the balance of power will play out, no one can say.”

Alix read the list over again.
Woodridge. Greenbarrow. Alansport.
Names she knew. People she'd grown up with. Did they know the truth about Tom, or did they believe whatever lies he'd concocted? It was impossible to know, and it didn't really matter anyway. “We can't have these families attending the Raven at the parley. If he feels too secure, he won't listen to anything Erik has to say. It will end up being a formality, just going through the motions so he can say he did his best to avoid bloodshed.”

“Perhaps if some of them were to meet with unfortunate accidents . . .” Saxon's eyes glittered from the depths of his hood.

Alix considered it long enough for her stomach to turn over. “No. Erik wouldn't want that on his hands, and neither would I.”

“In that case, perhaps these families need only
believe
such misfortune might befall them.”

“Go on,” she said warily.

“They are brave because they are hidden. If their identities were known, their boldness might desert them. You are not a known commodity at court. You have not spent enough time in the capital. No one here can say what you're capable of. Let these families fear you.”

Yes
, she thought,
let them fear me. And let them fear Erik as well.
“Pay a visit to every one of these estates, and paint a raven on the door. Let them know they aren't hidden anymore.”

He bowed. “It will be done tonight.”

An idea occurred to her. “What if we were to use blood instead of paint? Or is that going too far?”

The spy smiled. “This is war, Lady Black. There's no such thing as going too far.”

A
lix found the king in his study, as expected. He was exactly where she'd left him last night: at his desk, writing. She'd stayed with him well into the dark hours, but he'd virtually ignored her, and eventually he had sent her off to bed. She'd fallen asleep just before dawn, to fitful dreams of princes and ravens and marriage. She wondered if Erik had slept at all.

He didn't look up as she entered the study, but gestured at a chair across from him.
This is it
, she thought.
We're going to discuss the betrothal.
As much as it terrified her, she would be glad to settle it once and for all.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to come,” she said as she drew up the chair. “There always seems to be one more thing that needs doing.”

He nodded vaguely, his quill scratching.

“I hear the priests have refused to align themselves with either side.”

“Yes.”

“Gwylim says that the gods take no part in the quarrels of men. Maybe that extends to the priests too.”
Or maybe they're just waiting to see who comes out on top.

Erik said nothing.

“Are you sure I can't persuade you to wear armour?” His doublet was exquisite. Ordinarily, she would have admired the artistry of the stitching, the way the dye brought out the blue of his eyes. Instead, she found herself wondering how heavy brocade would stand up to a dagger.

“It sends the wrong message,” he said.

Alix studied him worriedly. The strokes of his quill were as clipped as his words, and his shoulders sat rigidly square. Everything about him screamed of tension. Understandable, certainly—so much would be decided this day. But she'd seen Erik ride down the throat of an army with a wink. If ever there was a time for his breezy confidence, it was now.

He scattered a handful of sand across the parchment and put it aside. Only then did he look up, leaning back in his chair with an unreadable expression. “May I ask you a personal question, Alix?” She scarcely had time to register the ominous familiarity of the words before he added, “Why didn't you tell me Liam was your lover?”

A sharp breath jolted out of her, as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She would have looked away, but Erik's eyes pinned her as surely as if she'd been forced against a wall. She could only stare at him helplessly, her mind swimming, her thumb moving instinctively to the empty place where her ring had been.

“You're surprised, I see. Collect your thoughts. I can wait.” His tone was smooth and cold and fragile, like a dangerously thin layer of ice.

Damn you, Alix.

She forced her voice past a raw throat. “I didn't know he was your brother, not at first. By the time I realised it, everything was already falling apart. And then we weren't lovers anymore.”

Erik was unimpressed. “So you thought it didn't matter?”

“I . . . I should have told you. I know that. But I just couldn't.”

“I don't even have to ask if he knows about me. That much is obvious.” His tone grew more brittle with each word. The ice was starting to crack.

“I had to tell him. It wouldn't have been fair to continue on as if nothing had happened.”

Erik closed his eyes and shook his head, as if she'd confirmed a fear. “Let me guess: It was at that point that you ceased to be lovers.”

“I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you. After what happened with Liam . . . I just wasn't ready to cause that kind of pain again.”

“
You
weren't ready?” He leapt to his feet and went to the window, his left hand balled into a fist at his side. He was struggling to keep himself in check, but Alix wished he wouldn't. She deserved the full force of his anger. “This isn't about
you
, Alix. It's not even about me. Don't you see? You know what Liam has gone through, how hard it's been for the two of us to get to this point. I've been so careful—perhaps too careful—but he's finally here, and I dared to hope that we could be brothers at last. And now his trust may be destroyed forever, all because of an injury that I dealt in ignorance.” When he turned away from the window, his eyes were accusing. “Everything Liam has suffered has been my fault. My father wanted to bring him home, but I stood in the way. I took
everything
from him—his family, his future, even his safety. For seven years, I have been trying to give something back, only to discover that instead
I have taken from him again
! If you cared for him, Alix, if you cared for either of us, how could you just stand there and watch it happen?”

Alix's heart broke a little more with each word. The guilt she had carried for months, that had weighed her down in heart and mind—it was a pittance. A fraction of what she owed. In the hundreds of hours she'd spent obsessing about her relationship with Liam, and with Erik, she had never once considered their relationship with each other. How could she not have seen? It was
she
who stood in the way of
their
future. After seven years of trying to clear away the rubble of the past, Erik had finally found a path to his brother—only to have Alix throw an even bigger obstacle between them, one they might never overcome.

“I'm so sorry.” Her voice shook. “You're right. I've been a fool.”
A wretched, reckless, self-absorbed fool . . .

Erik sighed, long and deep and weary. The flame faded from his eyes. He took a step toward her, but she sprang out of her chair before he could speak. She deserved every arrow he'd spent, and she would not let him take a single one back.

“I'll see you in a few hours,” she said, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. “You should try to relax, if you can. I'll have the servants bring tea.” She bowed, spun on her heel, and left the room. As she closed the door, she heard the sound of papers being swept violently to the floor. She prayed to the Virtues that it was the last gasp of Erik's temper, for he needed to be ready for what lay ahead.

*   *   *

The oratorium thrummed
with tension. Though empty but for the guards and a handful of chosen lords, the vast chamber felt confined and oppressive. The ceiling clamped down on them like the lid of a boiling pot; at any moment, it seemed likely to fly off from the pressure. The hairs on Alix's arms stood on end, though that might just have been the chill. Arnot had ordered only two of the hearths lit. “Better too cool than too hot,” the steward had told her, “for the room, and the tempers.”

Alix scanned the row of doors along either side of the hall. Each was flanked by a pair of guards, even though most had already been barred with thick beams of oak. Only the door at the back of the gallery had been left unsealed, and it was through this that the Raven and his entourage would enter. It was an insult to force a prince of the realm to come in through the commoners' door, but Alix didn't care—it would keep Tom and his men out of the main part of the keep, obliging them to use a corridor that ran directly from the courtyard to the gallery. The more she could control the Raven's movements, the better.

She looked up at the balcony again, reassuring herself that the crossbowmen were still there.
As though they might suddenly have vanished.
She blew out a frustrated breath.
You're obsessing. You've done all you can.
She met Rig's eye and gave him a curt nod. Satisfied that the room was in good hands, she left to take up her place at the king's side.

When she reached the door to the study, she hesitated. She hadn't seen Erik since that morning, and the wound was still raw. But she couldn't afford to think about that now, and neither could he.
He's got more important things on his mind than you
. Thus fortified, she went in. Erik stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back. His posture seemed relaxed, but when he turned, his eyes burned like the blue flame of coal. That was no bad thing, Alix decided; he would need that intensity to match the Raven's.

“What is it like in the room?” he asked her.

“Edgy.”

“I'm sure. You've half an army in there.”

“I wanted the other half too.” She glanced around. “Where's Liam?”

“He'll be along.”

Probably throwing up
, she thought. The only person who made Liam more nervous than the king was the Raven. “He'd better hurry. Tom will be here any moment.”

“Tom can wait. It won't hurt to remind him who is king.” Muscle stood out in Erik's jaw, and his fingers twitched restlessly at his side.

“Are you ready?” She regretted the question as soon as she'd asked it. How could he possibly be ready for something like this? “Sorry, that was stupid of me. Again.”

His eyes filled with remorse. “Alix . . .”

She swept forward and threw her arms around him, and he clasped her tightly, burying his face in her hair. “It's all right,” she murmured. “Everything's going to be fine.” It sounded so trite, as if she were comforting a child, but it seemed to help. He relaxed in her arms with a sigh. “I'll be right behind you,” she said, “and Liam too.”

“Thank you.” He drew back, a shadow of a smile on his lips. “That's just what I needed to hear.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Liam appeared. Alix couldn't help gaping a little. He looked like a
prince
. His clothing was as grand as Erik's, his unruly hair tamed by a trim and a sound combing. But the expression on his face—as determined as if he were going into battle—was pure Liam. “I heard voices as I passed the oratorium,” he said. “I think they're here.”

“Then we begin,” said Erik, heading for the door.

Liam stopped him as he passed. “I stand with you, brother.” He held out his hand.

Alix directed her smile at the floor as they clasped arms. She could practically sense the strength flowing into Erik through Liam.

They arrived at the oratorium to find Tom, Roswald Grey, and a handful of others Alix didn't know standing in close formation near the king's table. Albern Highmount, Arran Green, and Lords Black, Brown, and Green were on the opposite side. The table formed a no-man's-land between them. All eyes turned to watch the king as he approached, his brother and his bodyguard trailing behind. Alix had begged Erik to let her go first, but he wouldn't hear of it, just as he wouldn't hear of wearing a sword or armour. He didn't want to look fearful.

The Raven hadn't troubled himself with such considerations. He wore no body armour, but a sword and dagger hung from his belt, and his leather-bound kite shield was strapped to his back. Alix did a quick scan of his men and found that they were all similarly armed. Roswald Grey even wore a breastplate. She glanced up at the balcony yet again. The crossbowmen were there, weapons cocked and ready. Rig was armed too, as was Arran Green, both of them too much soldier to do otherwise. That was something, at least.

“Good afternoon, brother,” Erik said. “You are punctual as always.”

“And you are late as always.”

Erik ignored that. He scanned the half-dozen men Tom had with him. “You are fewer than I expected.”

The remark was guileless—Alix hadn't had a chance to tell him about Saxon and his bloody ravens—but Tom couldn't know that. His lip curled. “Yes, a number of my friends appear to have gone hunting, or taken suddenly ill. Well played, brother.”

“This isn't a game, Tom.”

“No, it isn't.”

“Let's get to it, shall we?” Erik gestured at the chairs that had been placed around the king's table, but Tom refused with a sharp shake of his head. Erik sighed. “Relax, brother. I am bound by the laws of parley. I cannot arrest you, and if I wanted to murder you, all I would have to do is give the signal to those bowmen. You know me better than that, or you would not have come.”

“It's true, I do know you better than that.” His gaze shifted to Alix. “But I don't know
her
, and rumour has it she is rather fond of you.” He smiled in a perfect mockery of charm.

“She's not the Black you need to worry about,” Rig growled, before Erik silenced him with a hard look.

“Very well,” Erik said, “let me ease your mind. Bowmen, leave us!”

No!

Alix didn't dare gainsay the king in front of everyone, but she glared at him for all she was worth. He ignored her, and the crossbowmen filed out of the oratorium, taking Alix's only shred of comfort with them.

The Raven, for his part, studied his brother with narrowed eyes. Doubtless he wondered what game Erik was playing. Alix wondered the same. In the end, he took the proffered seat, his men following suit. They were a little over a dozen in all, eight on Erik's side, nine on Tom's, facing each other across the polished oak table.
We look like we're negotiating a treaty
, Alix thought. And in a sense, they were.

“You say you have intelligence about the enemy that I lack,” the Raven said. “I doubt that, but I would hear what you think you know.”

Erik leaned on the table, lacing his fingers together before him. “I presume you know that the Oridians have divided their forces. The main host makes its way up the old imperial road from Boswyck. A second force plagued the Blacklands until recently, but General Green smashed them at the Scions. A third force, which we judge to be approximately three thousand, remains in the Brownlands.”

Tom made an impatient gesture. “We know all this.”

“The Priest rides with them,” Erik said.

“I have heard that rumour.”

“It is no rumour,” Arran Green put in. “Alix Black and one of my scouts saw him with their own eyes.”

The Raven regarded him coolly. “In that case, it is a pity you did not make him pay for his recklessness. His presence no doubt inspires his men.”