Duty: a novel of Rhynan (22 page)

Gold, scarlet, and brown were the basis of every
man’s clothing except for three. Tomas, Rathenridge, and Landry
stood out in their house colors. It took me a moment to locate the
king in the similarly dressed men. Then I realized only one man
sat.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Reclining on a wooden chair against multiple
cushions, King Mendal’s chin rose infinitesimally as my gaze fell
upon him. His attitude clearly indicated I should react, but I was
at a loss as to how. His clothing, though perhaps slightly more
trimmed, didn’t stand out as unusually lovely or horrible. In my
opinion, his features inspired neither admiration nor disgust. Then
my gaze fell to the cane leaning against his chair. Was he
sensitive about a limp?
Help me,
I prayed desperately as
Dentin led me forward .

The king waved at Dentin.

“Your majesty.” Dentin turned to me and stepped back.
“I am honored to present Brielle Dyrease, Lady of Irvaine and
Wisenvale.” I didn’t get a chance to glance at Dentin’s face, but
judging by his voice, anyone would be convinced he was deeply
honored. I wished I knew for sure. Dentin struck me as a man I
would like to impress.

Stepping forward, I dropped into one of my best
curtseys. My mother would have been proud.

The king motioned for me to rise. “So, Lady Irvaine,
what do you have to say in defense of your cousin?”

Fear constricted my chest. Despite the urge to look
to Tomas for support, I couldn’t implicate him in whatever the king
considered me guilty of doing. “I am not my cousin, your majesty.
There is no love lost between us to urge my tongue on his
behalf.”

“And why would that be? Does not similar blood flow
through both of your veins?”

“We share a grandsire not values, your majesty. I am
a loyal citizen of Rhynan, as was my father before me.”

Mendal’s frown deepened. “Yet, your father fostered
Lord Wisten, taking him into his home and protection.”

“It was an effort to curb his rebellious spirit, your
majesty.”

Mendal scoffed. “He failed.”

“Not for lack of effort, sire. No one can change
another’s heart through determination. My father worked to touch my
cousin’s heart until the day he died.”

“I have difficulty believing that.”

“Your Majesty, if I may ask, why am I being judged by
my cousin’s actions and not by my own?”

The men around the king tensed and the king’s frown
deepened. Panic set in as I realized what I had done. Questioning
the king tended to lead to a quick and messy end. By shear will I
kept my head up and my gaze steady. No matter how strongly I wished
to glance toward Tomas, I didn’t. Instead, I kept my gaze on the
king’s face.

Then support came.

“She has a point,” Lord Dentin said loudly.

“Be still,” the king muttered.

“My lord–” The welcome sound of Tomas’ voice cut off
at the abrupt gesture of the king’s hand.

“I told you to be silent, Irvaine. I will not let you
harbor a viper in your nest even if you have sworn to protect
her.”

“Even you cannot undo the wedding vows, my king.”
Dentin passed behind me to stand at my left shoulder. “You demanded
the oath of him. He swore it and carried it out…to the letter.”

“Are you saying I will have to accept her?” Mendal
grabbed the cane and struggled to his feet. “Are you saying that I,
the sovereign of Rhynan, will have to settle with her being bound
by her husband’s oath?”

“If you fear her husband’s oath will not bind her,
sire, demand she swear the oath herself.”

I wanted to blurt out my willingness to take the
oath, but Dentin gripped the back of my arm. Out of the corner of
my eye, I saw Tomas shake his head. I clamped my lips closed.

Dentin dropped his hand and resumed speaking. “Then,
should the traitor’s words be proven true and she be found guilty,
you can condemn her to a traitor’s death as a warning for other
women who would fall back on their gender for mercy.”

“Very well.” The king sat again. “Bring in the
officiate to record her oath taking.”

Movement to the left drew everyone’s focus including
the king. I took advantage of the distraction to look at Tomas. He
stood to the king’s right, a place of honor despite the accusations
against me. He met my gaze for a moment and nodded his approval
before turning to observe the appearance of the officiate.

A familiar figure shuffled into the meeting space.
His balding head had manifested no more hair than the last time I
had seen him. A few long wisps of hair contorted in the wind that
cracked the banners overhead.

Dentin led me forward to the edge of the rug beneath
the king’s chair. Using his hand for support, I knelt.

The officiate grunted. “Lady Irvaine, offer your
hands palms upward to his majesty.”

I complied. King Mendal leaned forward in his chair,
pulled off his gloves, and gripped the insides of my wrists with
cold fingers. I looked up into his eyes. Intensely blue, they
searched my gaze as though hoping to read my unfaithfulness in the
depths of my eyes.

“I accept your homage.” Then he released my hands as
though I was dirty and eased back into his chair. Twitches of pain
crossed his face as he moved. I wondered at the nature and root of
his infirmity.

“Now place your hands on the holy book and repeat
after me,” the officiate prompted.

“I promise on soul I will be faithful to Mendal
Advicatius Firorian, King of Rhynan, never cause him harm, and
observe my homage to him completely above all other persons in good
faith and without deceit.”

Once I said the words, Dentin helped me to my feet
and guided me back to my place.

A man to the king’s left rose and after bowing to the
king, took a position between the king and myself. He struck a pose
meant to inspire admiration. With his pot belly and straining,
gilded tunic, he fell short.

“Bring in the prisoner.”

I looked expecting to see Orwin. Instead Tyront was
dragged through the muck and thrown to the ground at my feet.

He came up spitting and swearing. I backed away,
instinctively reaching for my knife only to find it gone.

“Thought you wouldn’t get caught, witch?”

“Be silent before your sovereign.”

“I am no subject of yours.” Tyront laughed. A
slightly crazed light glinted in his eye. “I no longer serve you,
Jester.” He shuffled his feet in a mad dance. “Neither does she.”
He pointed to me. “We are puppets on Master Orwin’s strings. Simply
puppets doing our master’s bidding. Bow to the king, missy, he is
about to have a hissy.” He bowed to the king with great fanfare and
beckoned for me to do likewise. “Bow to his chief monkey.” He
dipped to Lord Dentin.

“Cease your shenanigans, fool.” One of the other men
stepped forward as though to suppress Tyront.

“Why? I am condemned if I do and condemned if I
don’t.” He pulled a face at the king. “At least I shall enjoy the
trip to the gallows.”

“What of your master?” The new speaker asked.

“Orwin, pardon, Lord Wisten, left me to take the fall
for him. Always the plotter our Orwin, eh, Bri?”

“I am not Bri.” I responded with instinct born of
habit. “My friends call me Brielle.”

“And your family call you Bri,” Tyront supplied in a
stage whisper.

“They do not.” There was no way to prove it.

“Enough of this farce.” The king struck his cane
against the leg of his chair. The crack brought even Tyront up
short. “I grow tired of this man’s blathering. Remove him.”

The two who brought him in, dragged him out
again.

“How long until we locate Lord Wisten?” The king
addressed the heavyset man to his left.

“Four to five days at most, sire. He has few places
to hide in this part of the country.”

“Double your efforts. In the meantime, Irvaine?”

Tomas stepped forward and bowed deeply.

“Rise. I entrust Lady Irvaine into your care.”

“I accept.” Tomas bowed again, but the king waved him
away.

“You are all dismissed.” Grabbing his cane, he pushed
himself to his feet. With great effort, he hobbled into the tent
immediately behind his chair.

The moment the last of his attendants passed between
the canvas flaps, the court flew into action. Men walked every
which way. Two of them intercepted Tomas on his way to where I
stood. I would have met him halfway, but Dentin’s grip on my elbow
stopped me.

“It is wiser to wait, my lady.”

So, I waited.

When the last man released Tomas, he crossed to us,
meeting Dentin’s gaze first. “Meet you in a quarter hour in my
tent.”

Dentin nodded and, after a truncated bow to me,
strode off to the left with purpose.

I opened my mouth to ask Tomas what was going on, but
he stalled my request with a kiss. One hand dove into my hair and
supported the nape of my neck while his other arm pulled me against
him. My senses flooded. I fell under the twofold spell of his touch
and the smell of him. I could barely stand when he finally released
me. Thankfully, he didn’t retreat very far. Resting his forehead
against the top of my head, he sucked in a deep shuddering
breath.

“Don’t speak here.” He smoothed a curl back behind my
ear. The dark depths of his eyes were troubled. “I have missed
you.”

A stranger wearing the king’s livery brought Tomas’
horse. Tomas mounted without comment and pulled me up behind him.
He kneed the horse into motion immediately. I had to clutch at him
to avoid falling off.

The journey from the king’s camp to Tomas’ was long
enough for the euphoria of his kiss to dissipate. I began to wonder
if he had truly meant what he said about missing me or if the whole
wasn’t just a pretense to warn me not to speak.

As we slowed to pass among the tents, I noted
activity. It seemed a heightened level for the afternoon. Then one
of the tents came down as we approached and men began packing it
up.

“We are moving out?”

Tomas gripped and squeezed my hand gently but didn’t
respond. I interpreted it as a signal to stop talking and
obeyed.

Finally he pulled us to a halt outside one of the
larger tents. Antano appeared from within and greeted me with a
grave nod. Taking the leads of the horse, he held it still while we
dismounted.

“When Lord Dentin arrives, send him in.” Tomas strode
into the tent, holding the flap for me. I was surprised to see a
smaller tent within the larger canvas one. The inner tent was
constructed from a heavier cloth. It looked like wool, but I
couldn’t be certain since Tomas held that flap up for me too. As I
stepped inside, I realized the inner tent wasn’t a tent at all, but
heavy curtains. The roof above us remained canvas and filtered the
sunlight down from above.

Tomas closed the flap and crossed to throw his gloves
on the wide cot on the far side of the space.

“We don’t have much time.” He pulled a camp chair
from its place by the curtain and set it next to the table. “Please
sit. We will be leaving soon, but we can’t talk on the road. Mendal
is going to see to it we are watched every moment we are not within
these walls.”

“What is going on? Why am I suspected of
treason?”

“Your cousin’s informant–”

“Tyront,” I clarified.

“Yes, him. He has been doing his best to implicate
you in your cousin’s plots against the king.”

“How long has he been playing the madman?”

Tomas pinned me with one of his masked looks where I
couldn’t read his features, just his body language. His shoulders
were tight and his movements quick and deliberate. “You don’t buy
it?”

“Not for a moment. He used to put on a similar act
when we were children to entertain Orwin and his gang of thugs. I
am surprised he is doing it now. Doesn’t he know I would give away
the game?”

“Perhaps that is why he is so determined to take you
with him. By handing you over, he might think he will gain
leniency, though he goes about it shoddily.”

Tomas rotated his shoulder with a wince. My own
muscles twinged in sympathy. “How is it healing?”

“Well enough. Mother and Jarvin tend to fuss, but I
have survived much worse.”

Thinking of his scarred back, I nodded. “I know.”

Lord Dentin burst through the inner curtains. “What
do you know?” He threw his gloves and my knife on the table. Then
he grabbed the only other chair and planted it directly across the
table from me. “You, my lady, are not just a pretty face. I am not
sure if your intelligence is an asset or a detriment in this
case.”

“Lay off her, Dent.”

“I can’t. Mendal isn’t convinced she isn’t our mole.
Until he is, I am going to be spending a lot of time with the two
of you.”

“What does he want?”

“A full confession or Lord Wisten.” Dentin folded his
arms across his chest and leaned forward until they rested on the
table between us. “Do you know where your cousin is, my lady?”

I met his intense scrutiny with intensity of my own.
“I don’t. Until a few days ago, I last saw Orwin when he was riding
away with Wisenvale’s food for the winter.”

Dentin grunted, but didn’t look away. He examined my
face, but not in the same way Tomas had. Tomas weighed value.
Dentin’s regard was blatantly assessing my honesty.

“You can’t expect her to be keeping track of his
every move.” Tomas came to stand behind me, resting a hand on my
shoulder.

“I don’t, but the sooner we find Lord Wisten, the
sooner she can prove her innocence.”

“Stop dodging and weaving, Dent. Do you believe she
is innocent?”

“Yes. I am convinced as I can ever be of such
things.”

“Which means not completely.”

A flash of exasperation passed across Dentin’s face.
“Tomas, you know me. You know my skepticism makes me good at my
job.”