Myrren's Gift (13 page)

Wyl swallowed hard. It was pride alone that prevented him from betraying how he really felt about such a situation.

“You are priceless, my boy.” The King enjoyed a feeble burst of laughter. Wyl already missed the bellow Magnus was known for. “You would do that…allow Celimus, the person I suspect you dislike more than any other, to have that honor?”

Wyl did not hesitate. “I would, sire…if it be your wish.” Magnus fixed him with a more somber stare now. All mirth was gone. “Why couldn’t you have been my son. Wyl?” He clasped Wyl’s hand. “You are the one who should rule Morgravia.” The King’s eyes had gone misty.

Wyl cleared his throat. “It cannot be. your majesty.” he all but whispered. “You must not speak of this again.”

“Yes. but I think it all the time. You are fit to rule. The man who would be King has no compassion. I fear for our people. I fear for you.”

“Fret not about me. sire. I have his measure and he has my loyalty.”

“Does he, Wyl? Does he have your loyalty?”

Wyl wondered why the King would ask this of him a second time. He paused and searched himself. He came out of his thoughts wanting. “Sire, may I say this? If Celimus rules poorly he cannot expect my respect but I will pledge you this from the bottom of my heart: Morgravia has my loyalty. I will protect her to my dying breath.”

The King closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them he nodded, squeezing Wyl’s hand in his own large fist. “It is enough for me. Wyl Thirsk.” He smiled. “As for Ylena, I would ask that Gueryn step in for me. He is as good as family to you, and your father would be pleased with such a choice.” Wyl visibly relaxed. “Thank you. sire. I know that Gueryn would consider this an honor.”

“Keep him close to you. Wyl. He can watch your back like no other. And now to the real business at hand.” Magnus said, looking drained of all energy.

“Sire?”

“Why you came to see me today. I imagine this is to do with the tournament.”

“You know then?”

“About Celimus ensuring you and he are the main exhibition piece for swords? Yes. I believe though that you wish to talk to me about the Virgin Kiss and your suspicions that it is Ylena he will choose.” This was a surprise. Wyl had underestimated his King and was reminded once again of what a wily pair Magnus and his father must have made in their prime. “Yes, your majesty. Except it has taken a darker turn. Celimus has announced he is upping the stakes.”

“Oh?”

“His plan is to claim Virgin Blood.” Wyl said, standing suddenly as his anger surfaced. “It is my suspicion that Celimus wants to bed Ylena before Alyd.”

Magnus said nothing, although a deep frown creased his brow. Wyl, unable to be still, paced.

Finally Magnus spoke. “This is very serious.”

Wyl spun around. “Can you not overturn it. my King?” he implored.

“You know I cannot. It would gravely undermine Celimus and reinforce his fear that I love and favor you.”

“He fears this?” Wyl spluttered.

“How could he not? He and I share nothing but our bloodline,” Magnus said firmly.

Wyl could see the King was tiring. He needed an answer and pushed a little harder. “He means to win, sire.”

“I realize this. In fact I think you’ll find that Celimus will never play his hand unless he is confident of winning.”

“So you cannot overturn this decree?”

“And I will not. Celimus is beginning to flex his muscles as the heir. You will have to play to his rules soon enough. This is your first test,” Magnus said with regret.

“What can I do? I cannot permit this.”

“Then don’t play into his hands. Can you best him on the field?”

“Yes.” Wyl replied confidently.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“And still I do, sire.”

“Well, then you have to be even more cunning than he is. Use that wise head on your shoulders. There is a solution to every problem, my boy—those are your father’s words, by the way—and by Shar we always found those solutions in the nick of time. How long have you got?”

“Two more days after this, sire.”

“One more day than you need, then,” the old man said, his eyes glittering now. Wyl could not tell whether it was from the fever or because the King already had the answer. “And when is the wedding again, my boy?” he asked, his voice croaking.

“Month’s end, sire.”

“Ah, yes, you did say. Perhaps you should go about those arrangements then,” he said, again as though passing on some sort of underlying thought. “I am feeling rather fatigued. We shall speak again soon.” And to all intents and purposes it appeared as Magnus closed his eyes that he was already drifting into a drugged slumber.

As if he could see through walls, the physic knocked and made his entrance. “With respect, sir, I would ask that the King be left to sleep now.”

“Of course.” Wyl said, pondering the cryptic nature of his sovereign’s words.

Chapter 6

Wyl sat in a tiny, elevated courtyard known as the Orangery, which cunningly trapped the sun, encouraging its fruit trees to grow luxuriantly behind Stoneheart’s impenetrable walls. The fragrance of the blossoms was heady and Wyl loved the tranquility of this place, as did Ylena, whose suite of rooms overlooked it. He could never accuse Magnus of not following through on his promise to their father.

Ylena lived in quiet splendor with maidservants to tend her needs, among a glorious series of chambers and this courtyard, which Magnus had designed and built for the little girl who came to him all those years ago.

The daughter I never had
, he had once whispered to her and she loved him for it. Had loved him ever since. Ylena had never forgotten her father’s love but it had been taken from her so early that she had found it relatively simple to transfer it to his highly influential friend, who showered her with gifts and beautiful gowns and just about anything a noble’s daughter could wish for.

Wyl awaited his sister, his mind clouded in thought. A black dog sat patiently beside him. his mournful eyes staring up at Wyl. occasionally nudging his hand to remind him of his presence. Wyl stroked the large head absently and Knave complained softly at being so ignored by his master. He dropped his beloved ball, fashioned by Ylena from old linens, stockings, and wool, in the vain hope that Wyl might kick it and begin one of their games.

The dog’s ears pricked at the sound of a footfall.

“Looking for a game. Knave?” asked Ylena as she appeared fresh and primped from her rooms, her spicy fragrance mingling with the courtyard’s perfume. She duly kicked the ball and sent Knave leaping after it. “Hello, Wyl,” she said, tweaking her brother’s ear and planting a kiss on his coarse red head.

He pulled her close, loving the joy she found in simple pleasures and hating himself for bringing news to ruin her perfect day.

“You even smell like our mother,” he commented, kissing her on the cheek.

Ylena sighed. “I wish I could remember her as you do. I’m wearing her perfume.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Father gave it to me so many moons ago. He said I was to wear it on my wedding night. I’ve saved it all this time and yet felt reckless today and dabbed a little on. Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked shyly.

“Who?”

“Prince Celimus of course!” she said, making an exasperated expression that changed immediately to one of concern at the way Wyl started at that name. “Alyd, you fool—my husband-to-be. Who else could I mean?”

Wyl felt relieved that the subject had been raised inadvertently. He opened his mouth to say what he had rehearsed in his mind but Ylena interrupted him. reaching over to talk to Knave.

“You daft dog, you still have that silly red ball.”

“And woe betide anyone who touches it,” Wyl said affectionately.

“Other than you, of course,” she replied. “What is it between you and this dog, Wyl? He strikes the very fear of the devil into almost everyone at Stoneheart and yet he’s like a puppy around you.”

“And you.”

“Yes. but it’s passing strange, isn’t it?”

“Not really. He lost Myrren when he was a baby and then I came along out of the blue.” Wyl wanted to add that it was probably similar to how Ylena transferred her love from Fergys to Magnus. Instead he shrugged and scratched the dog’s ears. “I was the next best thing he had.”

“Whatever made you follow her instructions?” Ylena wondered.

“I’m not sure in truth. I felt somehow compelled and perhaps a little obliged after all her suffering. She said he was a gift and I was to use him wisely.”

“Do you understand what she meant?”

Wyl shook his head.

“What happened to her family?”

“I heard the father died on the morning the Witch Stalkers came for her. The mother was addled when we met. She listened to my tale and handed me the dog without another word. I don’t know what became of her but the house was all packed up when I visited and I presumed her mother was leaving town. She was probably glad to be rid of the burden of the pup.”

“Very strange.” Ylena admitted. “I’m just glad Knave sees me as friend and not foe.” Then she lowered her voice before adding: “He hates Celimus most of all, of course, but then I think he gets that from you.”

“Hush,” Wyl admonished.

“No one’s around.”

“Even Stoneheart’s thick walls have ears.”

“Well, it’s true. I think Knave hates anyone you don’t like. Think about it, he barely tolerates others who mean little to you but is loyal to those you love. How’s that for a fine philosophy?” she said, kicking the red ball, much to the dog’s surprised delight.

Their conversation was interrupted by one of Ylena’s maids announcing the arrival of Alyd. His expression was bleak as he kissed Ylena’s hand.

“Whatever is wrong with you, Alyd Donal? One would think the King had denied permission to our marriage.”

“Have you told her?” Alyd asked Wyl, who shook his head.

“Told me what?” Ylena’s eyes moved between two grim expressions.

“Ylena…” Wyl began.

“Wait!” she said. “This sounds bad.” She called to her maid and asked for a spiced cordial to be brought immediately. The maid returned quickly, and Ylena drank her small helping down in one gulp.

“Right. I’m presuming this is connected with our wedding. Tell me,” she commanded, her throat burning from the liquor.

Wyl started again. He told her what he knew and of his suspicions. She felt for Alyd’s steadying hand as Wyl bowed his head and finished with: “All that’s standing between you and the bed of Celimus is my sword.”

“But I’ve never done him a wrong.” she said.

“You’ve never done anyone a wrong, my beloved,” Alyd comforted. “This is not about you. This is about hurting Wyl…and your family name.”

“Are we sure of this?” she asked.

“No,” Wyl admitted. “But I know how his mind works. He knows how best to damage me.” Ylena shook her head. “Why does he hate you so much, Wyl?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, not wanting to repeat what he had learned from the King.

“I do,” Alyd admitted. “It’s because the King is so fond of you.” And when Wyl shook his head in denial, he added: “Everyone’s seen it. He had to grow up around the inseparable friendship of your father and his. Now you come along and steal the affection that rightly belongs to Celimus.” Wyl shrugged. He did not want to admit that Alyd’s argument was. in all probability, very sound. “And so. Ylena, by taking what’s so precious from you he humiliates the sister I adore, creating despair for my best friend and a chance to fire my anger sufficiently for an all-out confrontation.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, I won’t cooperate. I’d sooner die.” Alyd nodded. “And although I’m no match for him. I swear I would gladly die trying to stop him laying a finger on you. Wyl. I’ve been thinking about how we can get Ylena away from here. My intention is to—”

Wyl shook his head. “Alyd, stop! I’ve told you, there is no escape. Celimus is not one for being thwarted. It would be a cruel blow to his ego not to attain something he has set his heart on—and taking Ylena in the way he imagines is a master stroke guaranteed to hurt both you and me. No, he would hunt you down as easy as blinking. And he is in no hurry. You would be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your lives. The fear of being caught at every turn will destroy any chance of true happiness.”

“Then what? What can we do?” Ylena’s voice was shaking.

“We have to be smarter than he is, more cunning.” Wyl stood and walked to one of the orange trees, inhaling its freshness and stealing a few moments to convince himself his plan could be done.

He turned back to them. “I have a plan. It was a comment from the King which seeded it in my mind, and we have only what’s left of today and tomorrow to make it work.” They listened.

Chapter 7

The day of the tournament dawned sharp and bright over Stoneheart. The rain clouds of the previous day had blown through, leaving clear skies and a cool morning. It had drizzled the evening before so the ground was soft yet not slippery enough underfoot to be troublesome, making it perfect for charging animals and wrestling men. The horses were gleaming and colorful bunting flapped in the light morning breeze around the tournament field.

The carpenters had finished erecting the seating arena and, although damp, the small tents that encircled the field had held firm overnight. Each would become the base for a noble family and it was from here their sons would wage mock war on each other. Another larger and less flamboyant tent would house the jugglers, tumblers, dancers, and other entertainers, including a famous fire-eater and contortionist who was in attendance by express request of his royal highness. Prince Celimus.

The younger ladies of the court would be encouraged to try their hand at archery for the grand prize, from King Magnus, of an exquisite pearl pendant. Ylena, who was no beginner with a bow and arrow thanks to Wyl’s training, was looking forward to wearing the pearl that evening. She was sad the King would not be in attendance and, having learned she was not permitted to see him, had sent him a brief note together with a sprig of her orange blossom and some other blooms from her garden. She knew they would convey her love more sincerely to the sick man than the written word.