Froi of the Exiles (26 page)

Gargarin refused to look away. ‘I did what I had to do and I have no shame. And I’ll not explain myself to you. I’ll not explain myself to those who refuse to listen to the truth but still judge me. And if I had to do it again, I would not change a single thing that took place that night. Nor would the Oracle expect me to.’

Froi shoved him away, trying to block out the voice in his head that told him to forget his bond and kill this man.

‘Do you know how easy it is to snap the life out of a body?’ Froi asked. ‘Especially one that is broken?’

‘Then do it,’ Gargarin hissed. ‘Or are you as gutless as the rest of Charyn?’

‘
Olivier!
’ he heard Quintana’s voice outside on the balconette. ‘
Olivier, are you in there?
’

Froi’s eyes were fixed on Gargarin’s. Deep down he had believed in the boy named Gar who had kept his brother safe all those years. Who had walked four days with no food to bring young Arjuro hope. It was what made Froi want to kill him: the knowledge that Gargarin had sold some part of himself to a darker desire. But Gargarin’s action had nothing to with Lumatere’s safety and Froi knew it was not part of his bond to take this man’s life. Yet Froi wanted to cause pain and he pressed cruel fingers against the dagger wound Gargarin had received from Lirah. His only pleasure was watching the man wince.

‘Olivier!’

‘Your time will come,’ Froi warned.

Quintana stood on her balconette and Froi climbed onto its latticework and leapt, landing at her feet. He saw that her face was flushed with excitement.

‘I’ve been waiting for you all night and day,’ she said.

Froi shivered. He realised that the words came from Quintana the ice maiden. Realised, as he felt his face heating up, that the idea of this Quintana waiting for him with excitement spoke to parts of him he believed to be dormant. And then she winked.

‘Did I do that right?’ she asked. Her smile was lopsided and he saw a glimpse of the teeth.

And Froi imagined that he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

They sat crosslegged on the bed facing each other and she began to deal the cards with a speed and skill that surprised him.

‘I practised,’ she said. ‘I have a good memory for detail.’

He leaned forward, tilting his head to the side, a hand to his ear.

‘Say that again.’

‘I have a good memory for detail,’ she repeated.

‘You do, do you?’ he questioned, mockingly. ‘Not “we”? Not the Reginita? Not the Princess? Not the other? So what name should I use?’

For a moment, he thought he was losing her back to the coldness. She looked away, refusing to say her name, then she began to shuffle.

He was impressed and surprised and, more than anything, he was intrigued. He was growing to enjoy the way her eyes squinted and her mouth twisted as she concentrated hard. Sometimes he heard her murmur, ‘Hmm, yes I know,’ and he wanted to creep inside her head and join in her madness.

She clicked her fingers twice, mimicking one of the card players from that day in the cave dwellings. ‘Where are your coins?’

He choked out a laugh. ‘We’re not playing for coins. You may know how to shuffle, but that doesn’t mean you know how to play.’

She reached over to the trinket pouch on her bedside table and took out the coins she was given in the cave. She placed them before him and began to study her cards.

‘Remember, the same suit is more powerful,’ he explained.

She looked up at him, annoyed. ‘Why would I forget that?’

‘Because you’ve only watched three rounds.’

‘I told you, I have a good head for details. I can tell you the name of every person in this palace and if a new palace appeared and one hundred people were introduced to me, I’d remember their names as well.’

‘Wonderful,’ he murmured. He took his time studying his cards. ‘That should come in handy if you’re ever fighting for your life. And you can sing, as well. Beautiful voice, by the way.’

‘I can play with apples, too,’ she said.

He looked up, confused.

Quintana put her cards down and climbed over him. Decorum was not quite her forte.

She picked up three apples from the plate by his side of the bed and, concentrating hard, she began to toss them in the air with such precision that he wondered for more than the first time what else lay buried inside Quintana of Charyn.

‘Slightly impressive,’ he said, feigning indifference.

‘And you can do better?’

The first skill taught to a boy on the streets of the Sarnak capital was the ability to juggle. He could do it with his eyes shut. He took the apples from her and did just that. When he opened them he caught the last apple in his hand and took a bite. She reached out and he held it away until she straddled him to grab it from his grip. She leaned over him, but with their loins almost joined and the dip in her nightdress revealing a glimpse of round full breasts, Froi’s control over his body failed.

Suddenly she jumped away, staring at him with fury.

‘Well, you can’t climb all over me and expect it to just lie there,’ he said, trying to fight the pain of his arousal.

Quintana watched him carefully. Then she settled back and shuffled the cards, dealing them out as though nothing had happened between them.

‘A good game is a fast game, Froi.’

His head snapped back in shock. ‘What did you call me?’

‘That was the name you gave the dealer.’

He couldn’t explain it to himself. How it felt to hear her speak his name.

Froi dragged his attention back to his cards, annoyed. He didn’t want to feel whatever he was feeling for her. Or for anyone in this castle. He thought of Gargarin in the next chamber and how Lirah’s words had made him sick to the stomach. What was it about Gargarin and the whore and the Priestling and this strange Princess that made him care when he was trained not to?

‘Arjuro says he was never in the palace,’ he murmured, discarding a card and taking another.

‘Well, who are you going to believe? Me or a drunk?’ she asked.

‘You’re not exactly considered the sanest mind in Charyn.’

‘I’m going to win this round so I’d advise you to give in now,’ she said, reaching over for his coins. Froi slapped her hand away.

‘I do understand the concept of bluffing, Quintana.’ He looked at his cards, quite pleased with what he saw.

She sighed and threw in a few more coins.

‘I take great offence at being considered insane,’ she said.

‘There are three of you,’ he reminded her.

Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘Firstly, there are not three of us at all. And what of you? One moment a fighter, next minute an idiot who doesn’t heed warnings that he’s going to lose?’

‘So you’re admitting there’s more than one of you?’ he asked.

‘I’m not admitting anything at all and I’d advise you to show me your cards now.’

‘Show me first,’ he ordered.

She turned her cards and pressed them close to his face and he moved his head back for a better look.

‘I did warn you,’ she said coolly, collecting the coins and placing them in a trinket pouch.

Froi was put out. ‘Would I have won if I played the Reginita?’ he sulked.

‘She’s the one with the better memory,’ Quintana said, then lay back on her pillow. Again it was as though she was resigned to her fate, rather than anticipating it. Froi wanted the anticipation. He craved it.

‘Are you going to plant the seed, or should I just blow out the candle and say good night?’ she asked, with a weary sigh.

‘Do you come to me willing?’

He waited, praying to the gods that the answer was yes.

Quintana blew out the candle and said good night.

She woke him later. A distracted look on her face, her hair all over his eyes. Froi pushed it aside with irritation.

‘Yes, I know. There’s a man dying in Turla.’

‘Why in the name of the gods would Arjuro deny knowing me?’ she asked.

‘You got it all wrong anyway,’ he muttered, willing himself back to sleep. ‘He was never in love with Lirah because he was having a dalliance with De Lancey of Paladozza.’

‘De Lancey?’ she said, horrified. ‘Have you seen De Lancey? He’s the most handsome man in the land. He would never have a dalliance with Arjuro. Arjuro looks as though he hasn’t bathed since childhood.’

Froi pointed to his face. ‘Eyes closed. It means I’m trying to sleep.’

‘For some reason he is lying to you,’ she said. ‘Indeed he was in love with Lirah.’

Froi sighed, and opened his eyes. Her lips were pressed together in a grimace.

‘Why have you made Arjuro and Gargarin your business when you were sent here for other purposes?’ she asked.

‘I was sent here to swive you. Your word, not mine. Seeing it’s not your true desire, I’ve turned my attention to the lives of the brothers from Abroi and Lirah. It’s helped with the boredom.’

He wondered how much she knew of Gargarin’s hand in the Oracle Queen’s death.

‘Do you love Lirah?’ he asked quietly.

She studied his face. ‘Despite the fact that she’s not my mother?’

He wasn’t surprised that she knew. He was more surprised that she admitted it to him.

‘How is it that she spoke to you of such things?’ Quintana asked.

‘Oh, you know. She opened her mouth and words came out.’

She clicked her tongue with irritation. ‘We have an understanding with Lirah,’ she said.

‘So we’re back to “we”, are we?’ he asked. ‘Sometimes this bed gets too crowded.’

He turned away. ‘I’m going back to sleep. Send one of the others to wake me up later. I like you the least.’

She didn’t speak after that, but he sensed that she was awake and as much as he tried, he couldn’t keep himself from turning to face her. He felt her breath close to his.

‘Is it because we’re not beautiful?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘That you don’t want to save us … or plant the seed.’

Froi inwardly groaned.

‘In the books of the Ancients,’ she said, ‘the Princesses are always beautiful and they always get saved and men always want to swive them.’

At least if there was yearning in her voice, Froi would see it as an invitation. But there was only curiosity.

‘I’m going to say this once and once only,’ he said. ‘Are you listening?’

‘Only this once,’ she responded, and he couldn’t help smiling.

‘In the world outside this palace,’ he said, ‘men and women don’t go around speaking of planting seeds and swiving.’

‘What’s it called in the outside world then?’ she asked.

‘It’s not spoken of. It’s just done. It’s felt. I personally have nothing against the word,’ he said with a laugh. ‘But if you spoke it aloud, you would be judged.’

He thought for a moment, suddenly registering a word she had spoken a moment before.
Saved
. He reached over and touched a thumb to her face. But she flinched and pushed his hand away.

In all her talk of lastborns and seed planting, neither of the Quintanas had ever spoken of being saved. He couldn’t help thinking of the fear in her expression outside the soothsayer’s cave. The weariness in her voice when she spoke to him of staying alive. Then there were her words to the woman in the caves.
The prophecy says that only the Reginita can break the curse. Only her. Not the innocent
. Why would she not consider herself innocent?

Worse still, he couldn’t get the words from Arjuro and Gargarin out of his mind. That she would not live past her coming of age.

‘Go to sleep,’ she said after a while. But Froi couldn’t sleep. Too many questions were plaguing him. Why would Arjuro deny knowing Quintana?

In the early hours of the morning he heard Gargarin leave the adjoining chamber. Froi had spent enough time with the man to know that aside from being forced to attend breakfast and dinner each day, and sitting against the wall of the second tower and watching Lirah of Serker’s rooftop prison, Gargarin didn’t leave his chamber.

Froi dressed quickly and crept out of Quintana’s room, cautiously following Gargarin down the tower steps. Instead of Gargarin exiting into the outer ward of the castle, Froi watched him disappear to where the cellars were. Keeping a discreet distance, he trailed Gargarin through rows upon rows of wine racks and down into a lower basin that could only be accessed through a hole dug into the ground. Gargarin struggled to lower himself down into the narrow space. His hands, dependent on his staff, fumbled against the cavity wall, and Froi heard muttering and cursing that reminded him more of Arjuro than his brother.

The vertical tunnel led to a burrow so low in height that Froi stooped most of the way. He heard the tapping of the staff and in the distance could see the bobbing of light coming from an oil lamp that Gargarin must have stowed away. Further along, the tunnel tapered and turned and narrowed. Finally, he saw Gargarin lift a grate and extinguish the lamp. Then there was nothing but black and the quiet sound of breathing. Gargarin climbed the stones up into whatever lay above and disappeared from sight.

Froi waited a while, his heart hammering. Had Gargarin inadvertently led him to the King? How long had Gargarin secretly met him this way? Who were they keeping the truth from? Was it Bestiano? Froi remembered what Arjuro and Lirah and even Bestiano had admitted about the King’s prized pet. That he had been ambitious. Froi knew that if he was to find both men together, he would kill them. The King first and then Gargarin.

After a while, he followed Gargarin up the grate, climbing into an alcove with a small altar that served as a prayer cubicle Gargarin’s feet were a short distance away from Froi’s head and the man was gazing down into what could only be the King’s private solar. From where he was, Froi could see frescoes richly decorating the wall, the eyes of the gods staring down at him in judgement. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps and voices below.

‘The Provincari and their people have arrived, Your Majesty,’ one of the riders said.

More footsteps. Froi suspected they belonged to more soldiers by the sounds of swords clanging as they walked. Suddenly there was a movement before him and he watched Gargarin place a hand in his pocket and retrieve a dagger. A cold fist seemed to grip Froi’s heart.
Idiot
. Gargarin was not there to meet the King. He was there to kill him.