Echoes of Betrayal (7 page)

“Not much longer,” said one of the older Halveric veterans.

Kieri dismounted and knelt by Vardan; one of the Halverics took Banner’s reins. She bore deep wounds in her body; he could not understand how the beast had done so much damage so fast. But her eyes were open and recognized him. Two of the Halverics were trying to staunch her wounds.

“Sir … king?”

“It’s dead. We won. You saved us, Sergeant.”

“Is … good.”

He put his hands on her shoulder and closed his eyes, reaching for his healing magery, but nothing happened.

“No,” she murmured. “Not now. Let me … Falk calls me.”

Kieri opened his eyes; Vardan’s face was peaceful now, and much paler.

“Tell m’lord Halveric …” she said, and then with no more words, she died.

“Falk will honor you as you have honored Falk,” Kieri said. He bent and kissed her forehead. “For all your deeds this day, you will be honored both here and there, above and below, and songs will be sung and your bones laid to rest in all ceremony.”

When he stood again, he saw that all was quiet, but the day was not over. He gathered his Squires and went to look at the Pargunese, now huddled in a group under guard. He had said they had no facilities for prisoners; he had planned to offer no quarter, but he could not in all conscience kill them now they were disarmed and obviously had been forced by enchantment. The old compact he had lived by for so many years, that he and Aliam and Aesil M’dierra had imposed on most of the others, held him now in his own heart.

He gave his orders: march the prisoners to Chaya, kill only those who try to escape or resist. It took longer than he’d hoped to right the wagons, hitch the teams to them once more, and transfer the wounded—his own and the Pargunese—into them.

Next morning at dawn he was away to Chaya with his Squires.

W
hen Kieri rode back into the palace courtyard, he saw Arian coming down the palace steps to meet him, back in her Squire’s uniform. His breath came short … in his mind he clothed her in a queen’s robe and then wondered if she would be comfortable in it. The rest of his Council, following Arian down the steps with worried expressions in stark contrast to her smile, pushed that question out of his mind.

“The Pargunese force is gone,” Kieri said. He dismounted and arched his back, stretching. “Our forest rangers, a squad of Halverics who survived, and some Royal Archers mounted an effective defense—all praise to them. They cut the Pargunese numbers by more than half, and the Pargunese came on only because their officers were all servants of Achrya, who held them in thrall. The survivors, no more than thirty, are prisoners now until I decide what to do with them. They’ll be here tomorrow or the next day.”

“Surely you’ll kill them,” Sier Halveric said. “They invaded—they killed—”

“They were spelled,” Kieri said. “Until I know their true intent, I am not eager to kill men who had no will of their own.”

“Send them back to Pargun?” asked Sier Davonin. “If their leaders are dead, maybe they won’t make trouble.”

“We can’t possibly know they won’t,” Halveric said.

“Siers,” Kieri said a little more loudly. They fell silent. “We will
meet in Council when I have had a chance to bathe, change, and eat something. I will tell you my thoughts then. At the moment—” He let out a big sigh. The Siers moved aside, and Arian fell in behind him as he entered the palace.

“Food, sir king?” the steward said from just inside the doors.

“Yes. Anything hot, please. I rode straight through. I’ll bathe first and eat in my chambers.” He glanced at Arian and Harin. “You two, come with me. Garris, dismiss those who rode with me; they need at least a full day off duty.”

Upstairs, he found his bath already waiting.

“We saw your party coming,” Harin said. “We knew you’d want to bathe.”

“I chose the right Squires,” Kieri said with a grin.

By the time he had finished his bath and dried himself, he could smell food in the other chamber. His chamber robe, soft and warm, felt so comfortable he decided to eat before dressing for the Council meeting. He padded barefoot across the bedroom carpets to the table laid for him near the window. Arian stood there, ready to serve him; Harin had gone to the door, and Devanyan had joined him there.

“Sit down, Arian,” Kieri said. “We have things to talk about.”

“Yes, sir king.” She sat on the edge of a chair, tense as a drawn bowstring.

“The first is this—do you still want to marry me and be my queen?”

“Yes! Of course!”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” Kieri said. “We’ve both been in mortal danger—you with the dragon fighting scathefire and me with the Pargunese and those servants of Achrya. And then finding that the Lady was not coming to our aid because she was trapped underground—that’s enough shock that a change of mind could be understandable.”

“She put a glamour on me,” Arian said. “That’s why I left; I didn’t realize it then. She made me blind to the taig until I got far enough away—and I thought it was my fault, that the taig rejected me for my love of you. That was not right; I was angry with her then, and again for getting herself in a situation where she did not come to your aid at once. It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it was not.”

“And I
am
of the same mind, and I do love you and want to be with you. I hope I can be a good queen for you.” She frowned a little as she said that.

“I am sure you will.” Kieri took a spoonful of soup.

“I do worry,” Arian said. “Your sister, even as a young woman, knew so much more than I do. She would not have let the Lady control her as the Lady did me. She had known she would be queen; she had trained for it. I have learned much being a King’s Squire, but I am not sure it’s enough. I hadn’t been to court before except at her coronation, and now I’ve seen Siers and their families, and some of what being a king requires. It’s so complicated.” She looked away. “I’m sorry … you’re tired and hungry, and you saved the land.”

“Alyanya’s true daughter,” Kieri said; she looked back at him and smiled. Before he could say more, he heard Harin, from the door, say, “Arian? The rest of the food—”

Arian went to the door and came back with a tray of dishes.

“I don’t really need more—” Kieri began.

“You do,” Arian said. “Especially since this hot-pot was made especially for you.” She set out the dishes—the steaming pot topped with a flaky crust, the basket of rolls, the smaller pot that smelled of apples and spices, a jug of cream.

“If I eat all this, I will start snoring in the Council meeting,” Kieri said around a mouthful of the hot-pot. Chunks of ham and venison mingled with redroots, onions, mushrooms … it was almost gone before he realized he hadn’t stopped eating to answer her fears. “I was hungrier than I thought,” he said. Instead of stuffed and sleepy, he now felt wider awake. He eyed the apple dessert and the jug of cream, then looked at Arian and grinned. “There are two spoons,” he said.

“Indeed there are, sir king, in case you drop one.” Her mouth quirked; the indecision and worry of a few minutes earlier had vanished.

“I know you like apples.”

“Yes … and if that is an invitation, then I accept.”

Eating from the same dish, across the table from each other, reminded him so of those private meals with Tammarion … his eyes
stung, and he looked up to find Arian with an expression even more like Tamar’s. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Nothing. It is … a homecoming.” He swallowed that bite of the dessert and said, “And now for the second thing.”

“I am listening.”

“Remember what I said when you arrived with the elves: when we are alone, I am not ‘sir king’ to you but ‘Kieri.’ If you wish to continue as King’s Squire until we wed—”

“I do, of course,” Arian said. “And after, as well.”

“Well, not after. You will have Queen’s Squires of your own then.”

“But I want to be with you—”

“Of course, and you will be. But not guarding me. You will be my queen, worthy of your own protection.” Now she looked troubled; Kieri put his hand on hers. “Arian, what bothers you about that? You will still go armed, as I do; if it’s about keeping your sword—”

“Not that, sir … Kieri. It’s … what I was saying before. I know how to be a ranger or a King’s Squire. I don’t know how to be a queen. It’s so different.”

“Are you sure this is not a fear the Lady put into you, Arian? Or is it about … having children?”

“No, not that. I promise. And it’s not you, anything about you. I want to be with you, at your side. It’s my own ignorance. I don’t have any idea what a queen does—your sister, I imagine, did what you do, but a king’s wife … what would I
do
? I asked Sier Halveric while you were gone, and he said queens are more decorative than anything else—I should wear the right clothes and be gracious to people. It sounds like standing around smiling all the time.”

“He’s wrong,” Kieri said. “Some queens have been like that—in Tsaia, anyway, and Torfinn of Pargun seemed to think of his queen as a housewife in fancy clothes—but we can make our own rules. I can’t imagine you doing nothing but that. I’d rather have you as co-ruler than the Lady, if that were possible. Your good sense, your courage, your warm heart, your taig-sense: all fit you for being Lyonya’s queen. The rest is … is all surface and things you can learn with more experience. You say you haven’t traveled much—well, as a queen, you can. You can be my ambassador where rank is needed, as Elis is Torfinn’s.”

“But she grew up a princess—”

“And I did
not
grow up a prince.” That, he could see, startled her. “Arian. Trust me in this: you have everything it takes to be a queen but the experience, and you will get the experience by being a queen. You will make mistakes—I have made mistakes, this past year, as a king.”

“No—”

“Yes. I should have sent my own couriers to Torfinn and Ganlin’s father, asked them before I sent those girls to Falk’s Hall—”

“Elis and Ganlin wouldn’t think so.”

“Maybe … but it nearly got me killed, and may have gotten Torfinn’s wife and children killed, when the war started. I have made many mistakes in my life, Arian, and you will make some as queen, but that is not important—what is important is your willingness to take the chance.” He thought a moment. What story would help her and not increase her worries? “When I had the chance to escape from captivity—though I had wished for the torment to stop—it was terrifying to make that leap for freedom. And it was a leap—down out of a window onto a roof, and then running, running, as fast as I could. And then in the town, hiding and running, down to the harbor, jumping again, to grab a rope slung from a ship and hang on. I was scared the whole time. I had no idea what would happen, if the people would take me back to him. So I understand how frightening this change can be for you: new tasks, a new role.”

“But you were only a child—”

“And change is daunting for adults, too. But I promise you, Arian: I will help you with every skill and every knowledge I have. Think of it—” He paused a moment. “Think of it as a new horse—a Pargunese Black, for instance, tall and maybe not well trained. Snorting and plunging … you would ride it, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, a horse—yes, certainly.”

“You would train it—you would teach it?”

“Of course.”

“Then think of the tasks of a queen as that kind of challenge. You have made friends among the other Squires, I know. Now make friends among the courtiers—and others who are not courtiers. Travel—make friends for Lyonya abroad. Start with Tsaia, where I
have friends and you already know Dorrin Verrakai. After we’re wed, make a visit to Vérella—”

“With you?”

“No—I can’t leave yet. With … um … Sier Davonin, perhaps. That would be a compliment to their court. Estil Halveric, if she has the time.”

She looked serious, but beneath that he could feel a change, a healthy change, in her mood. “I would like to see more of Tsaia,” she said. “And Dorrin Verrakai.”

“The third thing to settle is our wedding,” Kieri said. “Now I know you still wish it … the sooner we marry, the better for the realm. My reasons are those of state: this realm was in mortal peril and is still wounded. Lyonya needs its king to provide an heir. I know that seems like valuing you for breeding alone—”

Arian laughed aloud at that. “I know a better reason to marry soon,” she said. “Do you not recall I said I loved you—loved you from the day I first saw you and have had trouble keeping my hands off you? My worries were of being good enough at the tasks of a queen … not fear that you cared only whether I would bear healthy children.”

“Oh …” Kieri felt heat rising in his cheeks, but he also laughed before going on. “In Tsaia, announcements of engagements on the day of Midwinter Feast are considered auspicious enough … but no one marries in winter. Do you know the customs here?”

“You could ask the Seneschal,” Arian said. “Or your ancestors may have wisdom for you.”

“If that suits the Seneschal, then it suits me. And I think we should tell the Council today and plan to make Midwinter Feast the formal celebration of the engagement.” Kieri pushed himself up. “And now I must dress and visit the ossuary before the Council meeting. Come with me there.” She looked startled; he smiled at her. “They won’t hurt you.”