The Blood King (31 page)

Carina stood in silence, still staring at the spot where Ric’s ghost had vanished.

Tris put his arms around her and let her sob against his shoulder. “Why don’t you let us walk you back to your room? I’ll get Kiara to stay with you.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, and looked up at Tris. “Thank you from both of us.”

IT HAD BEEN a very long day. Vahanian threw his cloak across a chair in his room and poured himself a glass of brandy. Between the Court of Spirits and the bitter wind that howled outside, he did not think he would ever feel warm again. Sipping the brandy, Vahanian edged closer to the fire.

The air in the room took on a sudden chill, and Vahanian recognized the prickle at the back of his neck. He had felt it all evening, when he stood guard over Tris in the Court of Spirits.

“Who’s there?” Vahanian challenged, his hand .falling from habit to his sword.

Just beyond the edge of the fire’s glow, a ghost began to grow solid, until the image of a young man dressed in the uniform of an Eastmark mere stood before him. It was the same ghost he had glimpsed in the crowd at Winterstide.

Vahanian took in the man’s uniform, the stain of his death wound, and the uncanny resemblance to Gregor. He felt a mix of apprehension and jealousy.

“You know who I am?” The spirit lifted his hands, palms up and open in a gesture of truce.

“Yes.”

“Take good care of Carina. Watch over her, and keep her from harm.” The ghost raised a hand in farewell and, to Vahanian’s astonishment, faded without another word.

Gradually the fire warmed the room, removing the only evidence of the ghost’s presence. But Vahanian sat staring at the embers, brandy untouched, long into the night.

next

contents

AT THE PALACE, preparations continued for the beginning of the assault on Margolan. Tris, Vahanian, and Kiara met more frequently with the mercenaries and Staden’s military advisors. Carina and Carroway found a lull in their own schedules. Tris’s practice at the Sisterhood still consumed part of his time. But as his skills in magic and defense sharpened, Carina’s talents were needed less inten-sively, which gave her an opportunity to recover from the strain. With the end to the Winterstide fes-tivities, Carroway found respite from the holiday parties and the constant demand for entertainment. Carroway and Carina kept each other company in the sitting room near the dining hall, where Carina prepared her potions and powders. Carroway took advantage of the lull to work on new songs, intending to create several haunting bal-lads and stirring tunes that would help to inspire his listeners to action. Royster often joined them, working with Carroway on both song and history. Some evenings Berry dropped in for a game of tarle, but she had turned in early this night, leaving Carina and Carroway alone.

For several candlemarks, Carina worked on her powders, grinding up freshly dried leaves and roots with a mortar and pestle and heating them in the fire.

Carroway’s tunes were lively, and made the candle-marks pass quickly. Later, his songs grew pensive. One, a haunting tune, told of a beautiful musician with her silver flute, who played so perfectly that the spirits took her. Carina found herself drawn into Carroway’s newest ballad, a sad tune about a spirited young girl killed by brigands. Only at the end did she realize that it was an ode to Tris’s sister, Kait.

Ready for a break from her work and stretching to relieve her aching back, Carina drew up a chair and watched Carroway as he tinkered with the fin-gering on the lute. He tried one chord and then another, with different embellishments, until he found the perfect match. Not for the first time, Carina was deeply impressed with the bard’s talents as a musician.

She clapped when he finished, and Carroway grinned sheepishly. “You’re very kind.” Carroway tilted back in his chair. “But the songs are still too rough for a real performance.”

Carina leaned forward against the table and rest-ed her chin on her folded arms.

“You know, I realized as you were playing that you and Ban are still the mysterious ones.”

Carroway chuckled. “Mysterious? My, that sounds quite romantic.”

Carina smiled. “I mean it. I’ve learned a lot about Tris and Jonmarc, but you and Ban have said very little, except about your escape the night of the coup.” She looked from the lute to Carroway’s eyes. “I’m not surprised that a bard of your talent would be at court. And Ban is a good soldier and a loyal captain at arms.

But you’re both closer to Tris than your roles would suggest. So tell me, what’s your story?”

Carroway set his lute aside and took a sip from a glass of port, silent for so long that Carina won-dered if she said something amiss. “My story isn’t very important,” Carroway said finally. “Ban likely feels the same.”

He ran a hand back through his long, blue-black hair. Carina wondered why the handsome young man seemed so completely unattached, when the ladies of the court vied for his attention. On the road, disheveled and dirty, Carroway had charmed uncounted serving wenches out of dinner and ale and bartered his music for shelter for the group and food for their horses. Carroway stood as tall as Tris but he was thin by comparison, though Carina knew the bard was much stronger than he looked. Fine-boned and long-fingered, he cut a handsome figure in the opulent court clothes that he so obvi-ously enjoyed wearing. Light blue eyes under long lashes were as pretty as any maiden’s, and his clas-sic, even features reminded Carina of the sculptures of the Lady’s companions of legend.

Yet for all his talent and beauty, Carina sensed a vulnerability in Carroway that intrigued her.

“Ban’s father was a general under King Bricen. He was injured and left the army to go to his manor house up in the high country. Not quite as far north as the Borderlands, where Jonmarc is from, but well into the northern mountains.

Bricen and Lord Soterius were famous for their hunts together. I don’t know that Ban ever had much thought of a career other than the guard.

“Ban was fostered out to Bricen’s court as soon as he was old enough to squire.

Tris knew him from the hunts—Bricen had a hunting lodge a candle-mark’s ride north of Shekerishet, and both Ban and Lord Soterius used to join the king there.” Carroway smiled sadly. “Tris and Kait spent as much time at the lodge as they could. Tris kept his dogs there away from Jared; truth be told, he and Kait preferred the lodge because it kept them away from Jared, too. Jared never had the patience for the hunt, although he relished the kill.”

Carroway sighed, remembering a life now gone forever. “My father’s lands were in between Bricen’s lodge and Lord Soterius’s holdings. I was the eldest of six.

My father realized early on that my gifts lay with music. So he fostered me to court early, asking Bricen for an apprenticeship with the court minstrels. I was only ten when I went to live at court, and I was quite lonely. Bit of a lost soul, really.”

He looked toward the fire, and sipped his port. “Tris and I hit it off immediately. Looking back, I guess Tris needed a friend as much as I did. Jared was an awful bully, and Tris and Kait often took a thrashing from him. Tris was always trying to pro-tect Kait; he got between her and Jared and took her beating more times than I care to remember. All except for the last time.”

Carina touched his hand, trying to draw him away from the dark memories of the coup. “Tell me more about what it was like when you came to court.”

“Bricen always seemed larger than life, hale and in good spirits most of the time. Queen Serae was so beautiful, so elegant. I think she felt sorry for me, because she ‘adopted’ me from the start. Tris and Kait and I were inseparable, and whenever Ban could be free of his squire’s duties, he joined us, too.”

“Tris said that Bava K’aa trusted you to help with his training,” Carina supplied.

Carroway nodded. “I liked Tris’s grandmother, even though there were kings and armies that feared her. She was always kind to me, and she doted on Tris.

So when she offered to let us help her, we jumped at the chance. Funny thing,”

Carroway said, rubbing his forehead, “is that I don’t clearly remember very much of what we did, other than that I liked being there.” He chuckled. “Maybe Tris is right, that Bava K’aa hid those memories—for both Tris and me.”

Carroway paused, longer this time, and Carina saw his eyes darken with sadness. “I’d go home during the summer, because many of the nobles who frequented the court during the winter months left to see to their own holdings, and there was less call for minstrels. Although my parents and my brothers and sisters visited Shekerishet often, it was wonderful to be back home with them.

“The summer of my twelfth birthday I hadn’t heard from my parents in a long time. They had always sent for me at the end of the spring feasts, but this year there was no word at all. Then one day, Queen Serae came to find me. She told me that a plague had broken out at father’s manor, a plague so terrible that no one survived. A servant was on his way to Shekerishet with a letter to me, but the soldiers wouldn’t let him pass. They were afraid that he carried the plague, and he did. He died in a cave by the road; they burned his body and the let-ter with it. And so my family was gone.” Carroway looked down.

“I’m sorry,” Carina said, touching his sleeve.

“Bricen and Serae did their best by me. They took me in. I’ve always been grateful for that. Oh, I inherited father’s title, and the lands, but lands have no value with no one to work them and a title means nothing when the wealth to go with it mold-ers in a plague-ridden manor. So in truth, I had no means and no family. Without Bricen’s kindness, I’d have been a beggar. The court whispered at first, but I was determined to earn my way. By the time Tris went for his fostering to Dhasson, I was in demand as a musician.

“I did especially well with the older ladies, who enjoyed the attention of a pretty young boy,” Carroway said with a self-deprecating smile. “Lady Eadoin, especially, was a great patron. Gradually, I found that the noble houses were willing to pay handsomely to have me entertain when I was free of obligations at court.”

“And did you leave someone behind when you left Margolan so suddenly?”

Carroway blushed. “Yes and no. Tris and I seemed to spend more time outrunning the girls at court than wooing them, if you want to know the Lady’s truth. We were Margolan’s most eligible bachelors. Tris and I were so good at eluding their clutches that one rumor had Tris taking vows as an acolyte to the Lady. Other rumors suggested that perhaps we’d pledged to each other.”

Carroway chuckled. “Either way, the rumors deterred the more persistent and ambitious of the nobles’ daugh-ters, so we weren’t inclined to set the record straight.

“But to your question—not exactly. Soterius stood up a date the night of the coup, but he never stayed long with any girl. Me, I fancied a pretty flute player named Macaria. Her talent, Lady bless her, is truly magic, and not earned with bleeding fingers like my own.” Carroway sighed, and Carina thought it was only partly exaggerated.

“What’s she like?” Carina asked with a smile.

Carroway rested his chin on his hand and looked off into space. “Hair like midnight. Dark eyes that flash with flecks of gold. She’s got Trevath blood, and the skin to go with it—like kerif with cream. And a figure that would stop traffic in the middle of the town square on the busiest market day.” He sighed once more.

“And with all that, talent and magic besides. Oh, I can do a little magic myself—less than a hedge witch, even—but it makes for dramatic effects when I tell my stories. Nothing of use to anyone but a storyteller—the ability to make smoke into figures and shapes.” He paused. “Macaria, on the other hand, has magic in her music. Not like Tris, not a sorcerer. But the very best entertainers—whether they’re musicians or bards or acrobats—have magic in their talent. My music was earned the old fashioned way—with lessons and practice. Hers, on the other hand, is from the Goddess. When she plays her flute, even the ghosts come to listen.

“But what’s a bard without unrequited love?” he asked. “Alas, m’lady never gave me a glance or showed the slightest interest in anything other than my music.”

Carroway sobered. “Perhaps it’s just as well. I’ve heard from the musicians we’ve met along the way that Jared took revenge on the palace entertainers after we escaped. We changed into their costumes, although they knew nothing of it, but I’m sure Jared would never believe that. So in saving ourselves, we unknowingly placed them in peril. I’m told that many of the entertainers disappeared, either to pro-tect themselves, or at Jared’s hand.

“I fear what I’ll find, when we reach the palace. Hearing the tales of the families of the Vanished Ones who’ve come to Tris’s Court of Spirits made me worry. I know nothing can ever be as it was, but I hope to find a few familiar faces. I’d like to go on believing that Macaria found safety, and that maybe, once Tris is secure in his throne, I’ll have another chance to court her.

“I haven’t had the courage to ask Tris to call for her among the dead. I need to believe that she lives. I don’t think I could handle it right now, if she…” He paused, swallowed. “And so I tell myself that she’s clever enough to have found a way to get by, and that things will be different when I return. Maybe if I’m a hero as well as a bard, she might notice me.

“Of course,” he went on, “planning the enter-tainment for both a coronation and a royal wedding might also get her attention.” Carroway gave Carina a sly glance. “For a small retainer, I’m willing to travel. To Dark Haven, perhaps, to plan a handfasting?”

Carina, to her chagrin, flushed scarlet. “You have quite an imagination!” Carina knew Carroway meant no offense, but hearing the possibility said aloud filled her with a strange mixture of feelings.

“Really?” Carroway laughed. “The castle gossips have had you and Jonmarc paired off for months now.”

“I thought Kiara and Berry were the only ones matchmaking around here!”

Carina exclaimed. She felt flattered and pressured, exposed and oddly pleased all at once, in a heady mixture that was new.