Kinshield's Redemption (Book 4) (29 page)

She braced a chair under the door handle in case the night guard tried to come in while she was exploring. Those stupid trollops worked for Gavin and couldn’t be trusted. That done, she put on one of her old dresses and an apron she’d swiped from the laundry one night, and hastily put her hair up into a loose bun and covered the top of her head with a lace kerchief. She admired herself in the mirror, knowing she was far too beautiful to be mistaken for a lowly servant if examined up close, but she would keep her head down and her shoulders slouched and avoid anyone who would recognize her.

With a candle in hand, she pulled out the loose nails in the servant’s door, slipped in, and pulled the door shut behind her. The Cyprindians had been assigned a guest chamber that required a round-about route that involved three corridor crossings. During her night forays, Feanna had discovered not only the best path to use, but had also discovered that the guests tended to stay up late and rise well past dawn. They wouldn’t likely be in their nighttime clothes at this time of the evening.

She peeked out the first narrow, hidden door that opened into the corridor. Hearing and seeing no one, she scurried across to the opposite door and continued her journey. When she reached the next corridor opening, she heard voices. Though they were muffled through the door, it sounded like Edan and Liera. She opened the door a crack and didn’t see them, but their voices originated to the left.

“He should be back in four or five days.”

Liera snorted a laugh. “If he doesn’t get distracted by something on the way. Did the message say he has an answer? For Feanna’s condition?”

Feanna’s ears pricked.

“It does,” Edan said. She heard the sappy smile in his voice. “He didn’t send details, but even the tone of this message was brighter than his last. We’ll have our old Feanna back soon.”

“I hope so,” Liera said. “I’ve missed her terribly.”

Feanna rolled her eyes. Liera was a sentimental sap who spent more time crying over her poor, lost husband than she did living for today.
Boo hoo. Rogan’s dead. Get over it.

“Edan, what did she say to GJ?”

“You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

“Whatever she said broke his heart, and he won’t tell me.”

“He knows she only said it because she’s... wicked now. He knows to stay away from her.”

Wicked?
Wicked?
That bastard. Feanna had half a mind to storm out of her hiding place and confront Edan for speaking about her so disrespectfully. She stood there in the cramped tunnel, gripping the candle in one fist hard enough to squeeze finger-shaped grooves into the wax.

“So whatever she said was untrue?”

“My lady, I don’t have any firsthand knowledge of the matter. If it’ll ease your mind, I’ll talk with GJ more about it.”

“I’m his mother. I want him to talk to me.”

Feanna made a mocking face and mouthed the words
I want him to talk to me
with a wag of her head. She wished they would move on and let her get to her own business.

“Come with me, Lady Liera,” Edan said. “I’ve got something I’d like you to see.”

Finally. Feanna listened to their footsteps and voices fade down the hallway. When she peeked around the door and found the hallway clear, she hurried across to the next passage door and continued on her way.

At last, she reached the guest chamber where the Cyprindians slept. Two male voices within were involved in conversation, but Feanna couldn’t understand what they were saying. She rapped lightly on the servant’s door. The conversation stopped, and one pair of footsteps approached.

“Is someone there?” someone asked in a heavy accent.

Feanna opened the door, coming face-to-face with a huge barbarian wielding a knife. The man was at least as tall as Gavin, with large muscles and golden-brown skin. He was naked from the waist up except for a metal plate in the center of his broad chest. His only clothing consisted of boots and a leather cloth wrapped around his waist.

“Who are you?” asked the smaller man standing near the settee.

“The queen sends a message,” Feanna said. She remembered to curtsey, but it might not have mattered. These two men, judging by their appearance and clothing, were unlikely to be familiar with the customs of Thendylath.

“She knows I’m here? I thought she was away. Has she returned?” he asked.

She nodded but kept her head bowed, not wanting him to get a good enough look at her face to recognize her later. “The king’s adviser has conspired to keep her from speaking with you, but she wants to meet with you in secret.”

“Conspired? But why? We’ve been here several days, waiting for a chance to speak with the king or queen. I have a message from Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia. My only mission is to deliver the message.”

Feanna’s excitement threatened to burst through her skin. “What message?”

“It is only for the king or queen. I shall meet with the queen at her convenience. Please tell me when and where to meet her, and we will finally fulfill our mission.”

She quickly ran through the options in her mind. If she arranged another meeting, she’d have to rely on her secret forays staying secret long enough to make her way to a meeting room. She didn’t know how closely he and his barbarian friend were guarded or how much freedom they were granted in the palace. Would he be able to enter one of the conference rooms? It irked her to think they walked freely through the halls of her home when she could not. It would be a risk to arrange a second meeting, especially since she had his attention now. Besides, Gavin was on his way home. If the Cyprindians delivered the message to him, she would never find out what it said.

She stood up straight and met his eyes. “I’m Queen Feanna,” she declared.

He cocked his head and looked her over. “You do not look like a queen.”

“I only dressed as a servant in order to make my way here unimpeded. As I’ve said, Edan Dawnpiper has conspired to keep me from seeing you, and so this subterfuge was the only way I could manage it.”

“Do you have proof of your identity?” he asked. “My message is only for the king or queen. No one else may hear it.”

“Here. Look at my signet ring.” The ring was bulky, but she’d taken to wearing it day and night. Soon, though, her fingers would swell so much, she would have to wear it on a thong around her neck. “If you still don’t believe me, go downstairs and examine the painting in the great hall. My husband and I sat for it shortly after we acquired the throne.”

The visitor took a moment to consider this. “I have seen the painting. You bear a striking resemblance to the woman pictured there.” Then he bowed deeply, one foot behind him, and his arms spread wide. “I offer my most sincere greetings, Queen Feanna of Thendylath. I am Kaoque Ewhirk, Twelfth Emissary to Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia, and this is my protector, Tokpah Woksu, Warrior Chief of the Eighteenth Battalion of the Cyprindian Force. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, yes. The message, Kaoque E-wit. Give me the bloody message.”

Chapter 37

“Ewhirk,” Kaoque said. There was a look of confusion on his face, as though he didn’t know whether to be offended by the mispronunciation of his name. Not that Feanna cared, but she supposed a queen should take care to get it right.

“I beg your pardon. Ewhirk. Your name sounds foreign to my ear. Now, if you please...”

“Won’t you come in, Queen Feanna?”

To hurry him up, she accepted his invitation and sat on the settee, placing her hands primly on her knees. When he offered her wine, she forced a smile onto her lips. It was all she could do to remain civil while she waited for him to painstakingly pour two glasses, taking care to make them equal in volume. She accepted the glass without thanks and sipped the wine before setting it down. “Now,” she said, taking care to keep her voice friendly and cheerful, “may I see the message?”

“The message is not written, Her Majesty.”

She ignored the blunder of address. “Then may I hear the message now?”

Kaoque glanced at Tokpah, who now stood beside the settee, clutching some kind of pole-arm. He looked down at her angrily, as if she’d done something wrong.

“Very well, Her Majesty,” Kaoque said.

“It’s Your Majesty,” Feanna snapped, unable to tolerate the error any longer, “not Her Majesty. You say Her Majesty if you’re talking about me rather than to me.”

“I humbly beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” Kaoque said. “I was taught your language beginning in my childhood, when my training as emissary began, but some things I am sure we do not know properly. I will correct our texts when I return.”

She uncurled her fingers, realizing she’d balled her hands into fists in frustration.
Get on with it.
Whatever they had to say, they needed to hurry the hell up and go home. Gavin would hear the message from her when she saw fit to tell him. “Very well. Continue.”

Kaoque tugged the sides of his embroidered shirt to straighten it and stood erect.

“His Eminence the Lord Ruler Cicoque of Cyprindia sends his congratulations for ascending to the throne of Thendylath and hopes that you will prove yourself to be more honorable than the kings who preceded you. His Eminence wishes to resolve the long-neglected dispute between our peoples so that we can begin a new relationship of mutual exchange for the betterment of all. A token of good faith is requested before the next full moon.”

When Kaoque stopped, Feanna raised her eyebrows to prompt him to continue. Instead, Kaoque bowed.

“As Emissary, I am equipped to guide you in selecting a suitable token, one that our Lord Ruler will find pleasing.”

They thought Thendylath owed them something? Feanna certainly wasn’t schooled in history, but whatever had happened between their two countries had to have been hundreds of years ago. “I’ve never known anyone to hold a grudge for an entire lifetime, and here your entire country has held a grudge for what? Two hundred years?”

A pained expression passed over Kaoque’s face. “A grudge? No, Your Majesty. This is far more than a petty grudge. This is a war, one that will not end until Thendylath makes an offering suitable to atone for thousands of lost Cyprindian souls. Since your king fled our shores four hundred years ago, we have been rebuilding our army, reforging our weapons, learning magical ways to protect ourselves from the Demon Lord and his champion.”

“Demon Lord?”

“The epithet earned by King Samuar Beresfard of Thendylath for summoning the demon that slew so many of our people.”

Feanna frowned. “King Samuar? I’ve never even heard of him. Ritol is gone—my husband and I vanquished him. Why would you spend so much effort protecting yourselves from a being that no longer exists in this realm?”

“Death is only temporary. Kings return in new bodies, as do queens and servants and warriors, unless their souls are devoured by a demon like the one you named.”

She laughed. His notion was silly superstition. Everyone knew that when people died, their spirits joined Asti-nayas in the afterlife. Perhaps barbarians like these weren’t sophisticated enough to know about Asti-nayas.

“You find our beliefs amusing?” Kaoque asked, a line between his pinched eyebrows. Poor baby was offended.

“No, no,” she said, waving him off. “Not amusing. I don’t know. Quaint. I mean no insult.”

“I see.”

“What kind of token does your lord ruler want?”

Kaoque smiled broadly. “A virgin would please him immensely and go far to resolve our dispute, but a lock of her hair as a promise would suffice.”

Her mouth dropped open. “A virgin? He merely wants to bed a young woman from Thendylath? Why not simply offer one a few gold coins? I’m sure if you ask enough of them, you’ll find a volunteer.”

“No, Your Majesty. Not to bed but to receive the Mark of Zuhlys Fahn and become High Spirit Consort. This will forge a permanent, blessed union between our two nations.”

“Oh!” Feanna clapped her hands together in delight. She loved tales of strange lands. “Tell me about this mark. And who or what is Zuhlys Fahn?”

He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Zuhlys Fahn is God’s name. The Mark of Zuhlys Fahn is the greatest honor a woman can receive. If Zuhlys Fahn accepts her, she becomes His wife in spirit, the High Spirit Consort, and her child is touched with His power and becomes our High Spirit Emissary. When he reaches maturity, the Mark of Zuhlys Fahn appears on his body, enabling him to commune with Zuhlys Fahn and our Lord Orator on affairs concerning both nations.”

What a superstitious dolt. God’s name was Asti-nayas. She let the matter drop, certain she wouldn’t convince them differently. “So your god beds her?”

Kaoque chuckled. “No, Your Majesty. Zuhlys Fahn is without a physical body. That is the reason he requires a virgin to take as His wife.”

“I don’t understand. A virgin needs a man to impregnate her. Does He occupy your Lord Ruler’s body to do that?”

“No man besides her lawful husband would presume to touch her in that manner.”

“That makes no sense. Women don’t stay virgins after they’re married.” Unless, she thought, they married someone like her first husband, Henrik, who preferred to take other men to his bed.