The Queen's Gambit (49 page)

And if he gave way at last to his desires, if he took not only her friendship and trust but her love as well, what kind of monster was he? For come tomorrow, if he did not leave her, whatever mysterious force had plagued him since the hurlhound's attack would surely force his knife into her sweet body and rend the life from her.

He had warned her once, and she refused to listen. Now, he loved her ten times more, and his tongue felt frozen in his mouth. All he could utter was a mute sound of anguish.

“Talmor,” she insisted, “you must talk to me. I cannot bear to see you suffer like this. Are you”—she paused—“afraid?”

“Aye.” He hated admitting it. “I am.”

“We've talked this over many times. I will not be dissuaded from confronting Lervan.”

Talmor closed his eyes and said nothing.

She came even closer, a fragrant shadow standing beside him, her skirts brushing against his legs. “The dream you had, the warning you gave me long ago,” she said quietly. “You still believe it will come to pass.”

Despair swept him. “I know it will.”

She was silent a moment, then she said, “According to the informants, Lervan has set many traps. He's certain to try to keep me from entering the city. We've discussed all that and laid our plans. I think Lady Carolie will be able to impersonate me splendidly.”

“Do you think I can just stand by and watch you die on the cathedral steps?” he said savagely. “I cannot bear it. I—”

“Say no more,” she pleaded, pressing her fingers to his lips. “You frighten me when you talk about it. You almost make me believe your vision will come true.”

“It will!”

“You cannot be sure,” she replied. “No one save Thod knows our future, and many things can happen.”

“Don't you understand?” he cried. “I—”

“I understand that you love me, and I love you!” she said, clinging to him. “Do we abandon Mandria and run away together? If so, say it, and I will obey your desires. I would follow you to the ends of the known world.”

For an instant he let himself believe it, but his common sense put a swift end to what she offered. “If I am to be the agent who destroys you,” he said, his voice raw, “then where we go does not matter. When the time comes, I will still hurt you.”

“You could never do it.” Her voice was so tender it nearly unmanned him. “I trust you. Why can you not trust yourself?”

“The Nonkind poison must still be inside me,” he whispered, confessing his worst fear. “I think it will force me to do this heinous crime.”

“No!” she cried. “You are
not
poisoned. You do
not
belong to the darkness. Talmor, you've had countless opportunities to kill me, and you've taken none of them. The Saelutian dagger does not shine in your presence. You are not evil. I know this idea has taken possession of your senses, but put it aside and believe in yourself as I believe in you.”

He wanted so desperately to accept what she said. In silence, he kissed her hand.

She stroked his cheek. “If I were not a queen,” she whispered hesitantly, “would you let yourself . . . love me?”

Unable to endure more, he caught her close and kissed her long and hard, until both of them were panting for air and lost in a tangle of shared emotions. At last, he forced himself to stop. “I have wanted to do that since I first met you.”

She sighed. “And I have been waiting for you to do that for months.”

Happiness filled him, momentary, brilliant, bittersweet. He forced himself to say what he'd longed to tell her for years. “I love you with all my heart and soul, Pheresa. Queen or not, I adore you and reverence you. I always have and always will.”

She sighed happily and rested her head on his chest. “Then I have more than any kingdom could give me.”

He touched her silky hair gently, his hand trembling from the emotions inside him. “I cannot stay with you. Don't refuse my request. Please, for your own sake, let me go.”

Her fingers clutched his tunic. “Talmor, oh, Talmor, will nothing I say persuade you?”

He held her tight, his heart thudding against hers. “We cannot build on false dreams, Pheresa. You know that.”

“You say these things because of Lervan. Because a divorced woman cannot remarry.”

He realized her feminine mind had leaped over all the difficulties to what she considered essential. A part of him delighted in how freely she offered her heart and future to him, yet the rest of him knew better. Whether she believed in his vision or not hardly mattered. He knew it would come to pass, and he knew also that he must find the strength to withstand her.

“We will find a way past Lervan,” she whispered. “My dearest, I know we will.”

Anger rekindled in Talmor, and for a moment he allowed himself to be distracted. “That knave has insulted and slandered you long enough. He deserves a sword in his—”

“And if I begged you to attack him, would you do it?” she asked. “Oh, do not answer that! There is no honor in such a question. I am so tired, Talmor. At times I feel certain that what I'm doing, however futile, is right, but then my courage fails me, and I'm afraid of what is to come.”

He kissed her again, holding her close while she sighed and molded herself against him. Then, regretfully, he forced himself to let her go.

“I shall ask again,” he said heavily. “Let me leave you.”

“Never!”

“I remember when I lay on my sickbed and you browbeat me, claiming you needed every man you could coerce into supporting you. How fierce you were.”

“I was cruel, hateful! I loathed every word I uttered.”

“But you did exactly right,” he assured her. “You kept me
from harming myself in my despair. Your sharp words hurt for a little while, but the good they did more than made up for the rest.”

“Talmor—”

“Let me finish. For your sake, I must be harsh and unkind to you now. I must leave you here, not knowing whether you will reach Savroix safely. I must do what I think is right, in order to keep you from harm. Lervan may accept you back.”

“That cur—”

“Or he may order your arrest. But you'll still be alive, and that's all that matters.”

“Nothing matters without you!”

“You do not mean that. Sometimes duty must outweigh what we want.”

As he spoke, he stepped away from her, but she clutched his sleeve desperately.

“No!” she cried. “No! 'Tis not the same. I'll not release you. I love you. I need you.”

A terrible force rose inside him, and he pulled free of her grasp. “Then I must defy your majesty,” he said.

He turned to walk away from her, but she caught him again and held on. Scowling into the darkness, he said, “You are just making this harder.”

“I need you,” she said, weeping. “I
need
you! If you go, you take my heart, and how then shall I live?”

“You cannot live if I am near you.”

“Please! My courage is false without you. We all know I have no chance of prevailing against Lervan, that my final grand gesture is doomed, yet I must try. Oh, please, my friend, my love,
please
stay with me now. Without you at my side I lack the strength or the character to go through with what honor and conscience compel me to do.”

“You are stronger than you know, Pheresa,” he said gruffly.

“You know our plan, how desperate it is. Without you, I shall be alone. How can I get to the cathedral without your help? You know I cannot do it on my own.”

“Please—”

Her fingers tightened on his wrist. “I must face Lervan. I must! And without you, I have no hope of it.”

Her pleas, her tears were weakening him. Feeling a surge of resignation and futility, he kept his gaze turned from her, for he could refuse her nothing, not even this.

“You don't know what you ask of me,” he whispered.

“I
do
know,” she said fiercely. “I ask you to stay with me to the end. Once I am arrested, I shall never see you again. Is that not enough pain for us? Must you make it harder now? Oh, Talmor, please, I—”

“All right,” he said softly, giving in. He kissed her, tasting the salty tears on her cheeks. “Don't cry now. I won't leave you.”

She clutched him, sobbing against his chest, and he held her tight, with his chin resting on the top of her head. He could feel her relief, but he knew his terrible dream was going to come true, after all.

Great Thod,
he prayed,
have mercy and let me stab myself, when the time comes, rather than her. Let me die in her stead, and give me unto the darkness that she may live.

The following day, disguised in a hauberk and leggings, her cloak hood pulled up to conceal her face, Pheresa tightened her reins to steady her prancing horse as she and Talmor jostled with the rest of the throng squeezing through the city gates. The harassed guards had long since given up trying to maintain a checkpoint and were simply letting the tide of people flow into the city. Military force—both the army and church knights—was in strong evidence along the crowded streets, obviously searching the faces of the crowd. The men looked alert and dangerous, and Pheresa rode past them with her heart thumping hard.

She sent up a quick prayer for the safety of Lady Carolie, the countess, and the rest of her faithful servants. This morning the little retinue had set forth along the muddy road in the wagons, with Lady Carolie dressed resplendently in one of Pheresa's queenly gowns, and Pheresa's banner flying. Whatever trap had been set on the main road would catch an impostor, not the true queen. Pheresa and Talmor had taken a different route, galloping cross-country through the broad
river valley that widened into a delta surrounding Savroix-en-Charva.

Everywhere, she had seen the scars on her land left by the Vvordsmen raids. Burned out villages, abandoned farmsteads . . . and here in the city, so much was changed since the great fire of last autumn. So many buildings were gone. The streets looked wide and open. New construction had sprouted up everywhere, but it was all different.

A fanfare of trumpets in the distance made her look up sharply. She stared at the spires of the huge cathedral, rising tall above the other buildings. With its bells pealing out a triumphant cascade of sound, it at least seemed untouched by the swath of destruction that had ruined so much of the city.

For a moment she could not breathe. “We're too late,” she said. “The procession has begun.”

The crowd was streaming toward the cathedral, some people running, others calling out to friends. Everyone wore their finery, and children skipped here and there, playing with long streamers of festive ribbons tied to sticks.

In despair, she thought of the beautiful gown and jewels crammed inside her saddlebag. She had intended to be splendidly attired and beautiful, waiting on the steps when Lervan arrived. And now, after the long days of hard riding and danger, she was too late.

“The procession must be just entering the city,” Talmor said. “There is still time.”

She met his golden eyes and saw his pride in her, his love, and his worry. Her own courage surged back, and she gave him a fleeting smile. “Let's haste, then,” she said, and spurred her horse forward.

They pressed through the crowd as fast as they could, and finally turned off the main avenue into a winding series of narrow streets that led them to the rear of the cathedral. She stared up at its massive walls, feeling uncertain and nervous, wondering if she could yet be in time.

“No time to dress now,” she said with a moan.

“Thod's bones!” Talmor replied urgently. “Leave off your vanity and ride ahead of me.”

She sighed. Being a man, he didn't understand that a woman's appearance was sometimes her greatest asset and most powerful weapon. Pheresa knew all too well the effect her beauty had on others and had intended to use it against Lervan today. He, of course, would be dressed in finery like a strutting cock, and now she must face him in this ugly man's garb, mud-splattered, and her hair wild about her face.

“Morde,” she whispered, and reached into her saddlebag to pull out her diadem. She slid it on and swiftly readjusted the hood of her cloak.

Talmor was gesturing to her. “We'd better leave the horses and make our way on foot.”

She dismounted at once, but untied the strings holding her saddlebags. They contained the royal seal and all her documents of authority. “Not without this.”

He slung it across his shoulder, then set his hand grimly on his sword hilt. Gathering her muddy cloak close, Pheresa hurried beside him down a long narrow street. The cathedral wall loomed over them, reminding her of how foolhardy and ridiculous her plan was.

Honor requires it,
she told herself firmly. Verence had entrusted her with the kingdom, and before she completely broke that trust by losing the realm to Lervan, she must go through with this final confrontation.

When they reached the square, it was already filled with people, all craning their necks to see the approaching procession. She could hear the drums and the trumpets. People were cheering, and the throng swayed and chattered with excitement.

Talmor elbowed a way through for her, and she hurried in his wake, feeling tense and suffocated beneath her hood. She was shaking with nerves, and she could not remember what she intended to say. A stalwart line of palace guards in bright green cloaks, standing shoulder to shoulder with pikes in their hands, brought them up short. Talmor tried to shove past them, but a snarling guardsman slammed him back into the crowd. He fell sprawling, and people laughed and jeered.

“This is as close as the likes of you get,” someone said.

“What's the matter?” another shouted. “Lost yer fancy invitation?”

Ignoring the laughter, Talmor scrambled to his feet and glanced at her with a shake of his head. She frowned, staring at the sunlit steps. Dignitaries had already assembled there. She recognized most of them, and yet held here with the rabble she might as well be leagues away.

“We'll not get through now,” Talmor whispered to her. A worried frown creased his brow. “I'm sorry. If we could have gotten here ahead of the guards—”

“No,” she said, refusing what he was saying to her.

“It's no use. We'll try to get inside another way.”

Angrily she stamped her foot. “No, I say! Once he enters the cathedral, 'twill be too late.”

A mighty drumroll crashed and reverberated off the buildings. Talmor looked past her. “It's too late now.”

Turning, she saw the front of the procession coming up the avenue already. Bold pennons waved in the breeze. The sunlight glittered off polished armor and silver-studded bridles.

Fierce determination welled up in her. She kicked the nearest guardsman in the back of his knee. As he staggered, she ducked under his arm and darted past the barricade, running into the sunshine and partway up the steps.

There was instant commotion. Two of the guards ran after her, while the rest struggled to re-form ranks and hold back the surging crowd. Talmor was left behind, and she glimpsed his frantic face just as one of the guards caught her roughly by the arm.

“Release me, varlet!” she shouted, and flung back her hood. “Who dares seize the queen without her permission?”

His eyes bulged in recognition, and his hand dropped from her arm. “Majesty!” he said in confusion. “I—”

More guards came running up, one of them wearing the insignia of an officer. “Get this knave back—”

As Pheresa turned to glare at him, the officer broke off his sentence. Tossing her head so that the sunlight glinted off her diadem, she swept back her cloak and stood there with her
golden hair hanging over her shoulder in a long braid, and her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her thinsword.

Had she dropped from the sky, the men could not have looked more astonished. “Well, sirs,” she said boldly, “will you say I have no right to be here?”

Shame filled some of their faces, but the officer scowled. “We have orders for your majesty's arrest.”

She drew her thinsword partway. “Will you fight a woman on these hallowed steps?”

They looked disconcerted, and she seized the opportunity to hurry higher up the steps before the guardsmen blocked her path once more. She did not mind now, for she was high enough to be seen by the crowd.

It was murmuring, still thrusting itself against the barricade of guards. “Look!” one man shouted. “That's the queen herself!”

In moments, his shout was echoed across the square. “The queen! The queen is here!”

In the excitement, people streamed into the official procession and caused great confusion on all sides. While the guards dealt with the chaos, some of the dignitaries hastened down the steps to Pheresa, holding their long robes in their hands, their astonished faces red and distraught.

“Your majesty, please—”

Pheresa glared at them imperiously. “Bow when you address me! Are you all dogs, forgetful of your manners?”

As they obeyed, one pockmarked man wearing a chancellor's chain stepped forward. “Your majesty, please withdraw. This is a great day, a happy day. Do not ruin it for his—”

“Duc Lervan cannot be crowned without my presence and my authority,” Pheresa said loudly for all to hear. “I am the chosen Heir. 'Tis
my
coronation day, not the consort's.”

The officials exchanged looks of dismay. “But, your majesty,” Lord Fillem said in a placating manner she found despicable, “this matter must be settled at another time and place. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Your majesty, have the grace, the ineffable courtesy to
step aside. I beg you. 'Tis most unseemly to quarrel here at Thod's house. Take yourself away before the king's wrath descends on you.”

She did not budge. “I am told by these men that my arrest has been ordered. Well, then, am I to be clapped in irons and led away before the people? Or will you not allow me to stand and confront my husband, this man who would usurp my throne and my crown?”

Lord Fillem edged closer to her and bent down to her ear. “Your majesty, consider some modesty as befits a lady of noble birth. You have been divorced—”

She slapped him. “You lie! Lervan's petition has not been granted, and if you think to shame me, my lord, you are mistaken. Let Lervan remove his mistress from the royal bed before he casts slander at me! He seeks divorce only because his harlot wants to be queen in my stead. If you think I will retire meekly and modestly, you are a fool. 'Tis Lervan, coward and betrayer that he is, who should depart in shame.”

Looking aghast, Lord Fillem gestured frantically in an effort to shush her, but Pheresa made sure she could be heard by all those close by. A roar went up from the crowd nearest the steps, and the chancellor glanced that way. The royal carriage had arrived.

Turning pale, the chancellor bowed to her. “Perhaps this matter is best left for you and the king to sort out,” he murmured, and retreated.

She glared after the coward before she swept a look of defiance at the guardsmen. They, too, glanced at the carriage, then at a nod from the officer, moved aside.

Pheresa stood in the center of the steps, aware that every eye watched her, and held herself erect and proud while she waited for Lervan to come.

Lervan was waving to the crowd from his carriage, the breeze ruffling the magnificent plumes of his cap, the springtime sun beating a bit too warmly on his ermine-clad shoulders. Beneath his cloak, he wore a doublet fashioned from heavy cloth
of gold, and over it a splendid chain studded with emeralds. A monstrous tailor's bill lay on his desk at the palace, but he was not thinking of his staggering debts now. Instead, he smiled at the cheering crowds and waved with satisfaction.

As his procession wound its way past the final turn of the street and entered the spacious cathedral square, however, some sort of commotion took place. His carriage lurched to a halt, and Lervan raised his brows as he saw some of the crowd streaming unchecked across the path of his pennon-bearers. Marechal du Lindier, riding horseback beside the carriage, stood in his stirrups and squinted ahead.

“What is it?” Lervan called out. “What lies ahead?”

The duc dropped back into his saddle. “Nothing, your majesty. The guards are dealing with it. The crowd is simply too excitable.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Lervan sat back. Restless with anticipation and impatience, he drummed his fingers on his knee. “Tell the guards to hurry. I am not to be kept waiting,” he ordered.

An equerry hastened away, while Lindier continued to stare ahead. Lervan saw Lindier suddenly turn pale; then the marechal frowned.

“Well?” Lervan demanded. “What do you see?”