Wielder of Tiren (The Raven Chronicles Book 3) (7 page)

Chapter Fourteen

A
rwenna kept the angry look on her face as they followed a servant down the corridor to their guest rooms. When they were alone, then she allowed a smile to cross her lips. She’d fooled Curtis. He’d continue to play his games, thinking he’d be getting under her skin. But he couldn’t. Not the way Bohrs had. No one could ever do that to her again.

              “Who was that?” Liam’s voice jerked her away from unbidden memories, ones best left buried.

              She turned, facing the rest of them. Her son wasn’t the only one curious. “Curtis and his wife raised me, after my village was raided. He was one of the Corrupted, and hid my Mark from me. Molded me into entering the service of Silas.”

              “He is the father of Bohrs, may he rot for eternity.” The vehemence in Y’Dürkie’s voice surprised Arwenna.

              “Bohrs? That settles it. We take turns,” Liam commanded before Arwenna could say anything. “Pair up, two people on watch at all times. You don’t go anywhere alone.” The last was directed at her.

              “Liam, I’m capable of leveling this building without blinking. I can take care of myself against one person.”

              He crossed the room and took her hands in his. He lowered his voice and looked her in the face. “I know what Bohrs did to you. Dad told me, all of it. There is nothing you can say to convince me this is unnecessary.”

              “Liam, I am not a doll. I’m not going to—”

              “You’re not going to break. I know that, Mom,” he interrupted her. “It’s not about protecting you from harm, but about keeping you focused so you can help the Duke. If this guy Curtis wants the throne, I’m pretty sure you want to prevent it. If we can keep the assassins and spies busy, you can do your job.”

              “He is right, Arvenna. You vill be able to do vhat you must if ve keep the interruptions small.” Y’Dürkie spoke. “If vhat you think is correct, Senyan is nearby. He vill vant to come for Kial, as vell.”

              Kial spoke up from a chair, “Why? I’m not going to do anything he wants. My father died years ago. He was a good man. This person you say gave me life; he’s no father of mine.”

              Arwenna studied his face, “In the end, Kial, it may not be about what you want. He may see you as a means to an end. You told me once you had never used magic, never felt it stir within you. Correct?”

              The pale head nodded. “Correct, Daughter. Sera’s told me what it feels like, the few times she’s played with her talents. There’s never been anything like that in me.”

              She sat in a chair, thinking. “Tiren once told me that, with Corse gone, Senyan had almost no magic left. That he’d be cut off from the majority of it. I wonder if it’s because you live.” Her voice trailed off.

              “Mom, how many Daughters or Sons of any one deity can exist at the same time?” Sera’s voice was barely above a whisper.

              Furrowing her brow in thought, Arwenna said, “It’s always only been one. The different Gods and Goddesses can have them, yes. But they can only have one Marked at a time. There’s no way to share the power…”

              “That’s why Senyan wants Kial, then. He needs to kill him to get the power left in proxy after Corse and Mialee both died.” Hugh’s deep voice spoke up.

              “I don’t get it. If those two were Gods or Demons or whatever you want to call them, how is it their power didn’t die with them?” Kial asked.

              Arwenna waited before answering. “A God’s power, their existence, is based in how many worshippers they have. The more followers, the stronger they are. That’s why Senyan went after Lexi’s followers once. The more of the fey he killed, the weaker she’d be. As long as there’s someone who believes in what that deity stood for, the power is available. Only it can’t be splintered off. The power remains, in stasis, until only one Son or Daughter is alive to claim it.”

              She paused, a grim reality taking hold in her mind. She stared at Kial, and Sera as she stood next to him. “It’s possible that whichever of you survives your meeting will become a God. The worshippers are there, if you want them.”

              “That’s my part in this, then. See that Senyan dies and deny the darkness that’s offered.”

              Arwenna nodded once. “Yes, Kial. At the end of the day, even if one of us kills him, your choice is what truly matters.” She kept her focus on the pair. Sera blanched, her body slightly recoiling from the pronouncement. Her fingers dug into Kial's arm.

              Kial, on the other hand, set his jaw. Arwenna saw it now, the attraction her daughter had for him. The same determination to do whatever it took to keep his loved ones safe that Joss had worn each time he left for his time as Lexi's Summer King. The awareness that his death may be the only thing to ensure Sera lived.

              She shuddered briefly. While this was something she prized in Joss, even when his devotion caused his own death, she knew it was part of Senyan as well. Only not for those he loved, but his own self-preservation and lust for power.

              The young man before her forced a smile on his face. "Well, that's an easy choice to make. I never asked for any of this, and I refuse to take it up." He looked down at Sera, "There's only one person I want to adore me in this world, or any other. And I want it to be as an equal, not a worshipper."

              "You're in as much danger as I am, if not more, Kial. The reasons they want me dead are personal. You...it's beyond that. You're blocking Senyan from getting the power he once wielded. He will do anything to get it back."

              "Ve cannot forget about the dagger, Arvenna. Tiren vill not allow herself to be used by Senyan or Curtis, vill she?" Y’Dürkie spoke.

              Arwenna shrugged, turning her head to her longtime friend. "You'd know better than I would, Sister. You spent more time in her company."

              Hala's quiet voice broke in. "No, she will not. She told me to let them take her, yes. Surrender to save Sera. But she will not let one of them Wield her. She told me there was only one more who would be allowed to use her before this was all done. That it would be someone she'd chosen to speak with before."

              Y’Dürkie sighed heavily. "Vell, that is a short list. There is the three of us in this room and one other. I do not see him coming back, either."

              "No. Bah’Laush is content with his part in this world. When he and Gabby left us, I knew it was for the final time. We will not see them again." Arwenna sat up straighter. "So, the dagger will come back to me, Y’Dürkie, or Hala before Tiren is done. That much is settled. I won't worry about it. Tiren's resourceful. If that's what's going to happen, I won't waste time figuring out how or when. Kial,”—she looked at the young man—“stay close to Sera and Hala. Hugh, you watch over them. I've got Y’Dürkie,” —she shot a sideways glace at her son— “and something tells me you're not leaving my side no matter what I say, Liam."

              He met her gaze, "No, I'm not."

              "Like it or not, there will be meetings I'll have. With Ramberti, or the King. I cannot guarantee you'll be permitted to come listen in."

              "I am sure ve vill vork somethink out, Arvenna. Ve are your security, even if you do not like it. I vill make sure the Kink understands." Y’Dürkie spoke, her voice firm.

              "And it's not like Ramberti doesn't understand what's going on, Mom. He's going to understand better than you might think." Liam smiled. “Dad once joked that it was a good thing he met you before the Duke did or he’d have had serious competition. He needs you more than he’ll admit, so he’s not going to get in your way.”

Chapter Fifteen

T
he first summons she expected came at breakfast. The King wished to see her. Arwenna sighed. Politics were never her strong point. That’s what kept her from Ramberti’s court after the war ended. She’d wanted nothing more than a quiet life. Unfortunately, her parentage, her magic, made it a duty. Like it or not, she was the Daughter of Hauk. And with the title came expectations.

              Sera loved the trips to Almair, the trappings of Court life. She would probably continue Arwenna’s role as advisor to the Crown at some point. Her daughter was better suited at the role than she’d ever be,
and she knew it.

              Still, Arwenna didn’t hesitate to accompany the uniformed
servant down the corridor. Repair crews were out in full force, plastering walls, painting new frescoes as she and Y’Dürkie wound their way through the corridors. Liam kept a respectable distance. The summons had her name only, but they both refused to stay put. The pale green silk of her dress rustled with each step.
The dresses are nice, at least,
she thought. Given the choice, though, Arwenna would rather be in simpler fabrics and waiting for Joss to come home again.

              She closed her eyes briefly, pain of his passing still fresh to her. The wound would never fully close. Even when she watched Senyan take his final breath. Nothing changed for Joss. Liam had been right. She needed to live again. There were more people that would rely on her strength in the time to come. And a few that would try to exploit any weakness.

              The servant stopped in front of a pair of tall, narrow doors. The fresh white paint, trimmed in gold, still looked wet. She seriously doubted the King had seen the work done on his behalf. Or even cared. That was one thing she’d admired about him. He cared more about the people of his realm than riches or power. She needed to convince him that there was only one person who would continue that legacy.

              One of the guards held up a hand to halt her progress. “I’m sorry, Daughter, but His Majesty only summoned you to break the fast with him.” His brown eyes stared at Y’Dürkie, widening in fright. Swallowing hard, he turned his attention back to Arwenna. “Your companion will have to remain outside.”

              Arwenna smiled, but kept the mirth from her face. “Young man, you do your job very well. However, I’m certain His Majesty will be fine if the Head of the Weasel Clan joins us. If not, I promise you she will leave the room without incident. My son will remain outside, if that makes you more comfortable. But she comes with me. Now, shall we see what King Godric thinks?”

              He glanced at his partner, who merely shrugged. The guard pushed open the door, stating, “Your Majesty, the Daughter of Hauk is here. She brought a friend with her.”

              From within the room, a tired but firm voice replied, “Let those two in already, Sergeant. Or would you like to be on latrine duty for a decade?”

              The door opened wider and Arwenna slid gracefully into the room. She didn’t have to look back to know Y’Dürkie followed.

              The warm aroma of honey filled the room from the score of candles burning. The curtains were drawn back from the bed, revealing the old man propped up by pillows. “Don’t just stand there, Arwenna. Grab a bit of food off the tray there,” he gestured to a sideboard with a multitude of silver dishes on it. “You too, Y’Dürkie. I remember who you are. Then we can talk.”

              “You’re looking awfully good for a man everyone thinks is about to die, Godric.” Arwenna kept her tone light as she went to fill a small plate with food. Steaming platters of eggs, sausage, and gravy reminded her of how hungry she really was.

              “Don’t lie to me, Arwenna. You never did before, don’t start now. I look horrid and I know it.” Godric’s voice wheezed with the effort.

              She walked back toward the bed, carefully sitting to one side. “All things considered, the dampness of the air at a seaport probably wasn’t the best idea. It’s only moving things at a faster pace.”

              He smiled, the lines around his eyes softening. The eyes, once a piercing blue, seemed duller now. “No, but it was a more neutral location than Almair. Had I gone there, all the fun they’re having in trying to guess who I name would’ve gone right out the window.”

              “It’s Ramberti, then? Not Curtis?” Try as she might, Arwenna couldn’t keep the small catch out of her voice when she said his name.

              “Curtis? He’s an ass. I only elevated him to Baron so I could keep a closer watch on him.” His eyes narrowed, “I know what Bohrs did to you, my friend. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Watch him. Closely.” He pulled a piece of folded parchment out from under the blankets. The crest from his signet ring adorned the large wax seal. “Take this, keep it safe. Ramberti and I spoke last night. I will make the announcement this afternoon. Should I pass from this world before then, or when Curtis makes his play, open it in Court. Let them see who you are when you read it.” He fell back against the pile of pillows, exhaustion from the speech evident on his face.

              Arwenna reached out and took the dying man’s hand. “It shall be as you wish, my friend.”

              His other hand flew across his body, encompassing hers. “He’s here, Daughter. The one who has taken so much from you. You cannot let him leave. Promise me. It’s not about revenge for Joss’ death.” She must’ve shown the shock on her face as he nodded at her. “Yes, I know. Curtis took more pleasure than a man should at telling me a friend of mine had passed. Joss discovered something that even Corse didn’t know. That Curtis and Senyan don’t. He knew how to end this, once and for all. That’s why Senyan murdered him. Why they’ll murder me.”

              “What did he share with you, Godric? I need to know.”

              The king smiled back at her, “Before this is done, you will know. Sometimes it’s love that stays our hand, other times it drives it forward. Either way, it’s more powerful than hate. Remember that.”

              Once again, he fell back into the pillows. His eyes slowly closing, Arwenna waited. The shallow movement of his chest letting her know he still lived.

              Carefully, she untangled his hands from hers and rose from the bed. It wouldn’t be long now. At the afternoon Court, Ramberti would be named. Either by Godric with his dying breath, or her.