A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) (2 page)

Book
1

Sins Remembered

Chapter
1: Six Years...

“I hope you’re right,” Sarah mumbled as she awoke. Her hand wandered to her belly. She was troubled that she hadn’t felt the baby kick. He always kicked in the mornings.

But then the fog cleared from her head, and in its place, the memories came flooding back. Six years worth of feedings, bathings, changings, sleepless nights, lullabies, first words, first steps, and birthdays. Milestone upon milestone, stumbling forward through the days, the seasons, the years, to produce the six-year-old boy that she loved. William. Her only child. Her son. The Prince of the Kingdom of Rone.

Her brain was aging all over again. In her dream, she was the 21-year-old version of herself, who was pregnant, who had just lost her husband, who had just survived the Argosian War. And in seconds, she was the 27-year-old version of herself, who was a mother, a Queen, and a traitor. All at once.

Her hand ran over her exposed belly, enjoying the flatness of it. She didn’t mind being pregnant, but it was so much easier to feel young when it didn’t look like you had just swallowed a bowling ball. Her staff would have frowned at the idea of her sleeping in the nude. They would be worried she would catch a chill.
But
she had Landos to keep her warm at
nights
.

She rolled over, looking at the still sleeping High Magistrate that lay beside her. It was, of course, treasonous to engage in sexual congress with the Queen if your name wasn’t “King _______,” but after six years of having this particular affair, they had gotten very good at covering their tracks.

“Landos,” Sarah said, brushing her hand through his goatee. When had he grown a goatee, she wondered? Was it two years ago? Three? She couldn’t remember. His beard felt both familiar and strange. The 21-year-old version of her, who was fading away with the dream, had never seen it before. The 27-year-old version of her would have missed it if it
weren’t there. Landos hadn’t been in this dream, but her mind was still recovering from it. From the memory. From how things were six years ago.

She had been in love with two men, she remembered.
And still was, in certain ways. Her husband, Michael, who turned out to be the long lost King. And Landos, his friend, his highest advisor. The first one accidentally made her a Queen. The latter accidentally made her a mother. But, since Michael died during the War, they had to pretend he was the father. To preserve the Royal Bloodline, even with a lie.

Only three people knew it was a lie. Sarah had known she was pregnant before she ever consummated her relationship with Michael. Landos knew when she told him, after Michael died. And Jareld had figured it out, because he was the kind of smart guy who figured things out. So they locked him up and threw away the key. Made up a story about his death. Hid him away from the world.

Sarah was only able to visit Jareld that one time. When Landos found out, he was furious. Someone could have followed her, or figured out where she was, or why she was there. He forbade her from ever going to Goldmere again...

“I know this is hard,” Landos had said. “We’re two honest people caught up in an impossible situation. If Michael had lived, we could have faced whatever punishment we deserved. We could be exiled and lived happily together. But he didn’t, and the Kingdom needs a King more than we need peace of mind.”

“Jareld didn’t ask to suffer,” Sarah had argued.

“I know. And I wish we could let him out. But he’ll never agree to stay quiet. And I know it’s hard, but we can’t visit him anymore. We can’t risk being seen going there. Our Kingdom is hanging on by a frayed thread. We must always think of the Kingdom before everything.”

So Sarah obeyed and never visited Jareld again. But if she had been honest with herself, she probably wouldn’t have seen him again anyway. She couldn’t face him. See him standing for something while she and Landos lived in a castle and ruled the Kingdom based on a lie.

And she dreamt about him often enough anyway.

When William was born, she couldn’t spend so much time feeling guilty. She had a child to care for. And until his thirteenth birthday, still seven years off, she and Landos would essentially be running the Kingdom. Once she was in a routine, once she was the figurehead of the country, she remembered why she loved Landos. And they rekindled their forbidden affair.

Sarah tried desperately to have Landos knighted. With a title, Landos would be eligible to marry her, and the affair wouldn’t be an affair anymore. But only a King can confer nobility on a commoner, and the Council wasn’t sure they could invoke that power with the temporary license they had.

Still, they had slept in the same bed almost every night for six years.

“Good morning,” Landos mumbled as he stirred awake.

“You should get going,” Sarah warned, “Sun’s coming up.”

“We have some time yet,” Landos said, reaching his hand under the blankets. You couldn’t really blame him. If you were in bed with Sarah, and she was naked, you would be hard-pressed to behave yourself. She had won a lot of people over with her blue eyes and her smile. A thousand ships would have come back to port for her face.

But Sarah clasped his hand, brought it to her mouth, and kissed it, as though that was the romantic gesture Landos was going for.

“We have a few minutes, and we need that time to get some clothes on,” she said. She grabbed her night robes and went behind a screen.

“You don’t have to get dressed behind a screen, you know.”

“It just feels more…proper.”

“I’ve seen the clothes on their way off. Why does it matter if I see them going back on?”

“Are you getting dressed?”

“I’m tired.”

“They’ll be here to dress me soon.”

“See, that’s the thing about you Royal types. You have to get dressed so that people can come over and get you dressed.”

Landos slipped out of the bed and grabbed his trousers and tunic.

“Us commoners,” Landos said, buckling his belt, “We have one layer of clothes. Modesty, that’s all that’s required. Everything after that is vanity.”

“Your clothes were stitched by my
tailor. And you wear a chain of office.”

“That’s a legal rank. People need to know they’re addressing the High Magistrate.”

Landos grabbed that very same chain of office. He polished it with his cuff before draping it over his neck.

“Well, people should be aware that they’re addressing the Queen, don’t you think?”

Sarah emerged from behind the screen. She was only wearing a slip under a fine silk robe, but she already looked more regal than most people can look after a full day of dressing.

“Well, of course your title requires a certain amount of…décor,” Landos conceded, brushing his hand through her hair, “I’m just opposed to you wearing any clothes at all.”

“You, sir, are addressing a Queen!” Sarah said, though her giggle undercut her attempt to sound menacing.

“Alright, alright,” Landos smirked, “You can keep your clothes on, but you owe me a kiss.”

“Well, I hate to leave a debt unsettled.”

But the kiss never happened, as there was an abrupt knock on the door.

“Your Majesty,” called a voice from the other side of the door, “Your Majesty, we must get you ready for Court today.”

“It’s going to be another vine day, isn’t it?” Landos said, sighing.

“Afraid so,” Sarah said, waving her hand to the balcony window.

Landos had grown accustomed to slipping out Sarah’s window in the mornings. When the coast wasn’t clear into the hallways, he often had to scale down the vines to escape into the ante-room one floor down. He hadn’t done this much climbing since he was a boy in Hartstone Castle, sporting with the other servants around the court.

A part
of Landos was concerned with how easily he was able to climb
out of
Sarah’s chambers. What if an assassin wanted to get to the Queen? How poor were their defenses?

But the days of assassinations were behind them. Six years ago, the Argosian War had started with a string of murders meant to cripple the Kingdom. Caught off-guard, the people of Rone almost fell to a vicious invasion from the north. From the Turin people. But Michael brought the Sword of Kings to the final battle, and the Rone survived. The Turin retreated, and some semblance of peace was restored.

The last six years had been a stormy sea of negotiations and memorials, festivals and restorations. And raising Prince William. Landos wasn’t allowed to tell anybody that William was his son. Which was hard. William was a wonderful boy, and Landos was proud. How badly he wanted to proclaim to the world that the child was his. All of the accolades that people gave, all the praise that they attributed to William’s noble heritage...

Landos wanted to correct them every time. But his pride had to give way to the Kingdom. William was only the Prince because everyone thought he was Michael’s son. If the truth came out, the Kingdom would be without an heir. Like it was during the Argosian War.

Landos lowered himself onto the third-floor portico. He brushed himself off and slipped into the ante-room. After six years of this routine, he knew how to avoid being seen. Nobody was ever on the portico at that hour. Or in the courtyard below. Or in the ante-room.

Except, by chance, today.

Fortunately for Landos, the man occupying the room was the Baron Dubon Von Wrims, of Franconne. The Baron was not hard of hearing, nor nearsighted, but he was a very…distracted man. He would miss things as they happened right in front of him. It was hard to tell which way his eyes were looking through his bifocals. It was hard to see his expression through his puffy, orange beard. You never quite knew where you were with the Baron.

He was staring at a large landscape painting; a depiction of the Battle of Hartstone. The Battle where Michael rescued the people of Rone. The Battle in which he died.

“Good morning, Baron,” Landos piped up, secure that the Baron didn’t see how he had entered the room.

“Magistrate, I did not hear you come in,” Dubon said. “It is good to see you zis fine morning. I trust you slept well. It was a pleasant evening, cool but not cold, hmm?”

“It certainly was. This is the painting?”

“Indeed!” the Baron’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “I hope you do not mind. Zee official unveiling is
zis very hour, with zee Queen. But as zee sun is coming up through that window, I was hoping to see it with full light.”

“Of course, of course. And I’m glad I could share this moment with you.”

For all of his comical and foreign ticks, the Baron’s story was actually quite sad. He had been at sea, six years ago, when the Argosian War began. He was studying foreign arts in faraway lands, and didn’t hear about the conflict until it was almost over. The Barony of Franconne was in the far north of the Kingdom of Rone, in Maethran. It, like the rest of the County, was utterly destroyed by the Turin invasion.

The Baron wasn’t even halfway home when he got word that his wife and children had been murdered in the War. His lands razed, his Castle toppled. Even when the Rone won the war, there was nothing left to rebuild. He had nothing to return to.

So he stayed abroad, traveling to other continents. He studied art and music, paying his way as an expert appraiser. He consulted for Kings and Sultans. He tried to forget his homeland, and all the loss he had suffered. He tried to forget the abandoned bodies of his children.

But after five years at sea, he grew weary of his travels. He was homesick. He knew he couldn’t return to Franconne, which was now controlled by the Turin, but he wanted to start anew amongst the people who spoke his language and knew his customs. He wanted to come back to the Kingdom.

He had arrived six months ago, and bought a manor house in the capital city of Anuen, less than a mile from the Castle. He met Landos during a formal function, where the two hit it off. After a few bottles of wine, the Baron Dubon von Wrims told his tale of sorrows...

“But now,” he had concluded, “I have returned to my home. It is not zee home I grew up in, but I feel a sense of pride. Zis is my Country. Zis is where I belong.”

Landos had also imbibed a considerable amount of wine...

“Welcome back to Rone,” he said, extending a hand, as though he were the customs agent. They shared a laugh, even though nothing either of them had said was funny.

“Zank you,” the Baron managed. Landos stifled another snicker. The Baron’s accent was the sort of thing you only heard in plays that tried to make fun of northerners. “I hear,” Dubon continued, “You are planning a dedication to zee Saint Michael, hmm?”

“Indeed, the East Wing has been cleared out,” Landos explained, pointing north. “We want it on display for the Peace Festival.”

“And you will have works of art on display, hmm?”

“That’s the plan. Though so far we haven’t had a lot of luck tracking down artists.”

“In zat case, I will commission works from zee great artists I have met in my travels around zee world.”

“Are you sure, Baron? That’s a big responsibility...”

“Please, Mister Magistrate... I have done nothing for zis Kingdom. I stayed away. I was a coward. And yet, when I come home, zere she is, waiting for me. If I could not help during zee War, at least I can help now.”