Kinshield's Redemption (Book 4) (19 page)

“Yeh, well I wasn’t,” Adro said. He let out a loud hoot. “Not today, Kinshield. Not today!”

Chapter 23

The morning brought little in the way of excitement for Feanna compared to her nighttime forays into the secret passages built into the palace. After breaking her fast, she soaked in the tub for a time, making her servants bail out the cooled water and replace it with hot. There was nothing else to do, and by the name of Asti-nayas, she was going to make someone pay for her imprisonment.

When her skin was shriveled, she stepped out and let Eriska dry and dress her in a shift and robe of the softest cotton. Another servant arrived with more water, while three others went about emptying the tub.

“If you’d like to sit here, I’ll do your feet, Your Majesty.”

Feanna relaxed on a cushioned chair with shortened legs. Her handmaiden sat on a stool, facing her. A tray of files and pumices and blades of various thicknesses sat by her side, along with cloths and the two clean water buckets.

“What’s been happening since we’ve been home?” she asked. It was a relief to have someone else care for those whining rapscallions she’d adopted. If she never had to wipe another snot-encrusted nose or hush away their nightmares, she could die happy.

“Well, Lord Edan’s assistant, Pryan, is courting the head laundress, but if I were to guess, he’s more interested in a tumble than a wedding.”

Feanna listened to the rumors for a while and then let her mind drift back to the passages, wondering why the servants didn’t use them. They could move about the palace and do their work without being seen by the royals. Not that she minded—the passageways would be much more difficult for her to navigate if she had to worry about running into servants.

“...Keturah, but she doesn’t mind. They’re nearly the same age, after all.”

“What did you say?” Feanna demanded.

Eriska startled. “Sorry, my queen. I shouldn’t be talking about your girls so casually. You must miss them terribly.”

“What did you say about Keturah?”

Eriska bit her lip, then bent back to scraping callouses from Feanna’s heel. “Oh, it’s nothing. She’s a little girl that Lord Edan took pity on when her mama died from the bite of a rabid dog. Mayhap he thinks you and King Gavin will adopt her. She does look a lot like him.”

Keturah Kinshield was living in her home? This could not be happening. It was an outrage! Surely Edan was going around telling everyone she was Gavin’s bastard. Unless... A smile crept over her. Oh, the mischief she could stir up.

“Do you know why she looks like my husband?” Feanna asked sweetly.

Eriska rubbed the pumice faster. “The family resemblance is plain to see, Your Majesty. Lord Edan says she’s King Gavin’s father’s cousin’s grandchild. That would make her the king’s second cousin once removed, would it not?”

“It would,” Feanna said with a mischievous lilt, “if it were true.”

The girl stopped rubbing and looked up with a disbelieving gape. “Isn’t it?”

“No, my dear. Not even close.”

“There are rumors...” Eriska seemed to remember why she was there and returned to buffing away foot callouses.

Feanna wondered how much the serving staff knew. Had GJ repeated what she’d told him? “What rumors? Tell me.”

“Some have said she’s...” Eriska lowered her voice to a whisper. “...she’s King Gavin’s bastard.”

Feanna laughed which, judging from Eriska’s startled expression, was not the expected reaction. “Oh, that’s quaint. My husband might be a stupid boor, but he’s loyal. He sired no bastards.” She laughed again. “You tickle me. No, dear. Who else could have sired a girl who looks like she came from Gavin’s loins?”

Eriska gasped. “No!”

“Oh, yes. Keturah Kinshield is Rogan’s bastard. The perfect Rogan Kinshield betrayed his wife, and from what he confessed to me, not only once. Dozens of times. He propositioned me four different times, but I love Liera like a sister. I couldn’t do that to her.” Though he’d never said anything remotely inappropriate to her, she’d long wished he had. Feanna’s own husband had been a cold fish, and Rogan had been a strapping, hardworking buck with beautiful, dark eyes.

“I— I didn’t know. Does
she
know? That her husband...”

“GJ knows.” Feanna pouted playfully. “Would a boy tell his mother, knowing it would break her heart, or keep a secret that eats away at his insides?” Eriska would whisper this news to the first servant she saw, and soon the entire palace would be abuzz. Edan would be scurrying around in a near panic, trying to quell the rumors and keep Liera and her precious sons from finding out that Rogan wasn’t the perfect man they all thought.

A shadow crossed Eriska’s face. “That’s so cru—crucial a question to answer, Your Majesty.”

Feanna leaned back in her chair and watched her handmaiden scrub and rub her feet and file her toenails. Pity oozed from Eriska like a stench. “Did you say Keturah is sharing a room with Iriel?”

Eriska cleared her throat. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Good. If she wasn’t whisked away by nightfall and dumped at the orphanage, then Feanna would take care of the girl herself. “What other news is there?” she asked.

“News, Your Majesty?”

“About what’s going on here? What do you know of the Cyprindian visitors?”

“Nothing, Your Majesty.”

Aww, I’ve offended her delicate sensibilities. The soft-hearted trollop.
“Nothing? Or nothing you want to tell me?”

“I know nothing else, Your Majesty.” She patted Feanna’s feet dry, flung the cloths across one shoulder, and began to gather her tools. “Your feet are softer now, Your Majesty. I hope they feel better. I’ll be back with your noon meal.”

“You don’t want to stay longer and talk to me, Eriska?” Feanna asked with feigned outrage. “I’m deeply offended.”

The girl burst into tears. “I’m—I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. I’ll stay if you wish it, but I haven’t any more news. I’ve nothing worthwhile to say, and I didn’t want to bore you.”

Feanna rolled her eyes. “No, go on. I’m teasing you. Don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.” She curtseyed hastily, picked up the two buckets and left, sloshing water onto the floor. “Oh gracious! I’m sorry! I’ll just...” She set the buckets down, dropped to her knees and wiped up the spill. “So sorry.” The door shut behind her, and the key rattled the lock.

With her head leaned back against the chair, she imagined Edan getting red over what she had told Eriska. If he was the intelligent man he liked people to think, he would get rid of that wretch Keturah today. If he didn’t, she would sneak into Iriel’s room that night, and handle it herself with cold fingers around that soft throat.

Feanna flexed her toes and admired her pretty feet. She should have had Eriska give her a manicure too.

Chapter 24

“Shall I bring the other one, Wibbon?” the warden asked.

And kill him too?
Gavin thought.

“Now you know what to expect,” Daia said. “You’ll be successful this time.”

Gavin shook his head doubtfully. “I can’t keep sacrificing men to save the bastard who ravished my wife.”

“Wibbon’s already due to be executed for his crimes,” Daia said. “You’d be giving him the chance to help Thendylath before he dies. If he were zhi or whatever you call it, wouldn’t he want that? If you were in his position, wouldn’t you?”

He rubbed his brow, knowing that he should look at this rationally. She had a point. What man wouldn’t want a chance to redeem himself before he died? Only the kho-bent, because they didn’t value redemption. He did, though. “Awright,” he said to the warden. “Bring Wibbon.”

“Kill ’em all if you want,” Adro said. “Long as I get to watch. Best entertainment I’ve had in months. ’Cept for bedding your wife, of course.”

Before Gavin had a chance to react, Daia shouted, “That does it.” She unsheathed her dagger and hopped up onto the dais. With fear in his eyes, Adro tried to lean away from her. She took him by the arm and cut the left sleeve off his tunic while lecturing him about the proper way to talk to the King of Thendylath. She threw the dagger into the grass and then used the sleeve as a gag, yanking it hard and tying it so tightly around the back of Adro’s head that his eyes watered.

Gavin gave her an appreciative nod and unhooked Hapstone’s shackles from the dais, picked up the limp body, and carried him over one shoulder to a spot near the fence and set him down on the dirt. Daia had tried to convince him to let her and Cirang do that, but in times of stress, he hungered for physical labor. Doing this task himself gave his muscles a taste of what they craved.

The warden returned, leading a short, muscular man with thick red hair and an intensely dark haze. Judging by the way the warden leaned away, Gavin guessed that others, even those without the ability to see the khozhi in hazes, sensed the man’s khoness. He watched, fascinated, as Daia and Cirang shifted slightly on their feet when Wibbon walked past, seemingly unaware of their instinct to distance themselves.

The gaoler passed Gavin the papers, and with dread and nervousness trembling his hand, he signed the attainder. Another man was about to die, but would one be saved in return?

When Wibbon climbed the dais, the hairs on the back of Gavin’s neck stood up. The buck’s khoness was as strong as Cirang’s had been—virtually pure kho, like the beyonders. The warden made the prisoner kneel facing Adro and hooked his shackled wrists to the iron ring.

“You must work quickly, Emtor,” the Guardians said. “Don’t become distracted when the body collapses. That is a normal part of the process. The heart won’t stop unless you pull too much and delay too long.”

Gavin took a deep breath. He’d get it right this time. He knew how quickly the essence drained, and he knew what to expect once it did. It wouldn’t defeat him this time. He had King Arek’s powerful magic at his command and a mystical conduit as his champion. He could do this. “I’m ready.”

“Any last words?” the warden asked.

Wibbon looked up at Gavin with a smile so cold that his breath was frosty. “Heard you’re going to be a papa.” He turned his golden-brown eyes to Adro. “Congratulations, Fiendsbane.”

Gavin’s spine felt like it had hardened to steel. The blood drained from his face, filling his hands as they curled into fists. He trembled with the urge to beat the man to a pulp, to sit on his chest and choke the life out of him, to rip that black heart out with his bare hands and shove it into Adro’s smirking mouth.

It was happening again, the sudden surge of anger and loathing he’d felt at Jennalia’s house. Feanna must have been having some sport with him. He had to get away before he did something he would regret. He spun around and went down the few steps of the dais where he paced, spitting curses under his breath and clenching his muscles again and again. She couldn’t keep it up for long. He just had to hold on and ride it out, like a horse being ridden for the first time. Why hadn’t Edan taken his warrant tag from her? She should’ve reached Tern by now.

“Gavin? Are you all right?” Daia asked.

He nodded but held up a hand to caution her not to come near. When at last the feelings dissipated, he shook himself off, cracked his neck, and rotated his shoulders to loosen the tension there. He went back up onto the dais and gave Wibbon the same speech he’d given Hapstone.

As before, he used Daia’s conduit to increase his strength, but this time, when he pulled Wibbon’s haze into the brown jasper, he did it more quickly. Time was of the essence, and he couldn’t screw around this time. The gem filled, and Wibbon fell almost the same way Hapstone had, but Gavin didn’t let it distract him. He immediately started pulling Adro’s haze into the black onyx.

“I’m feeling dizzy,” Adro said through the gag.

“Shut up,” Daia hissed.

After a moment, Adro’s body toppled to the dais, emptied of his haze.

“Now the rune, Emtor. Quickly.”

“
Kembishyrad,
” he whispered. He sensed an odd shudder ripple down the sword’s length, though he felt nothing with his hand where he held it. “Now what?”