The Soulstoy Inheritance (10 page)

Once back in the council meeting room and seated at the round table with Grenlow, I was awarded the opportunity of undisturbed observation as each person paraded in. Unsurprisingly, the first two were Cereen and Rohan—the latter of who did a fantastic job of ignoring me, and the former an even better job of deigning to grant me a flick of raven hair and a flash of green-eyed condescension. The third was a blonde woman whom I recognised as someone I had seen before with Nareon. She was typically beautiful, even beneath her synfee perfection, with a ruby pout and a haughty posture. Grenlow introduced her as Ayleth, Nareon’s former—and favoured—advisor.

Ayleth gave me a curtsy that somehow managed to be mocking, with a smile that only drove her point home deeper, and then she sat directly across from me at the table, beside Cereen.

Great
, I thought,
now they can start a club
.

The next to walk through was a tall man with plaited black hair, a flashing gold tooth, and golden rings scattered about his fingers, reminding me of Quick.

“This is Dain, he has been treasurer of the Synfee Empire for centuries now.”

Dain swept himself into a bow, gave Ayleth a wink, and slid himself into a chair, drawing the scowl of the next man to walk through the door. He was the kind of synfee beautiful that still managed to look savage, though in reality he didn’t resemble a synfee at all. There wasn’t a single golden thing about him, and even the tan of his skin was more of a dusky brown than a golden brown. He had dark violet hair with matching irises, and his shirt hung half open over patched trousers and scuffed boots. There were twin swords swinging from his hips, and when he smiled, I couldn’t help but notice how sharp his incisors were.

  “This is Ashen Soulstoy, he is our ambassador. His brother placed him on the Council personally. Post ascension, of course.”

I could barely believe my ears, and did a double-take as the man removed his bent leather hat and tipped himself into a bow, his movements so familiar, so arrogant…

“Nareon has a brother?”

“Of course,” answered Ashen himself, spinning a chair around and propping his leg onto it instead of sitting in it. “There were three of us. Elias is the black duckling. Mostly because he’s dead. Now of course I’ve seen
you
before, Lady Queen, but we’ve yet the pleasure of a proper introduction; Nareon was annoyingly possessive, said we’d be a bad influence.”

Now I
really
wanted to call on Nareon, but not only was I still holding off, but I couldn’t do it in front of so many people.
Especially
not the man’s brother, who didn’t seem to be in the least perturbed by Nareon’s recent death. I had thought that another man had entered after Ashen, but if he had, Grenlow hadn’t noticed him either, and before I could turn to search the room, another woman walked through the door. She had silver-golden hair, pale blue eyes, and the appearance of age, though there wasn’t a single wrinkle marring her beautiful complexion. The experience was in her eyes, like a film of pain and knowledge that stretched beyond the years reflected in her skin. I recognised it. Harbringer had it too.

“Isolde is the oldest of our advisors,” Grenlow said as she sat down. “She oversees the day-to-day court proceedings and handles the general complaints. You’ll be working with her the most.” He looked around then, as Isolde closed the door behind her. “Is Leif already here?”

“He’s in the corner,” answered Ashen.

We all turned as one, and I noticed a man in a black cloak standing in the shadow of the corner, a hood pulled low over his face. Just the sight of him almost gave me a heart attack.

“That’s Leif,” Grenlow said, apparently not as surprised as me. “He’s our Spymaster, works mostly with Ashen.”

I turned away from the man, who offered no acknowledgement—though it made me uneasy to give him my back—and cleared my throat nervously.

“I don’t see any reason why anything has to change…” I flicked a look to Grenlow, once again wishing I could make Nareon appear. “…I’m sure you all know by now that I didn’t want this, and that I’m not in the slightest bit equipped to rule a kingdom.”

Ayleth snorted, and Dain shot her an amused look.

“But until something else can be sorted out,” I said, ignoring them, “I’ll do the best that I can.”

“You were in Flintwood and Red Ridge yesterday?” Isolde asked, raising her blue eyes to me.

“Yes.”

“The wells have water, and they think they can raise the crops again. You did them a great favour.”

I was embarrassed at the praise, but pleased at the same time, because Ayleth was no longer laughing at me.

“What I’m worried about,” Cereen spoke up, “Is how your actions in the Read Empire will effect us.”

“I have no idea what arrangement Nareon had with Fenrel.”

“Whatever it was, it’s nothing to the relationship you have with the new King, or so I’m told,” Ayleth said meaningfully.

I froze. “Where did you hear that?”

She shrugged, and I sighed, pushing back from my chair. They watched me, but I moved to the window, forgetting completely about the cloaked man that stood just beyond the curtain. I should call Nareon in, and let them all see that he remained in my mind, but would that make things harder for me, or easier? Would it garner Nareon power, and did I
want
Nareon to garner power?

“My Lady,” Grenlow spoke to me softly, as if I were a child, and to them, I probably was. “Is it time to seek counsel, I wonder?”

I could feel my fists clenching, my breath halting. What was Grenlow’s game?

“Tell me, Grenlow,” I said, not turning from the window. “Has a synfee ever returned from the dead?”

When he didn’t answer, I turned, and found everyone watching me with blank expressions, all except Grenlow. Grenlow appeared lost, just as confused as I was.

“No,” he said, “never.”

“Good.” I sighed, and then turned back to the window. “Nareon, show yourself.”

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t need to. Someone screamed—presumably Ayleth—and one of the men swore. There was a crashing sound, as if a chair had tipped over, and then Nareon’s silky-soft voice. Declaring himself.

“Ladies, gentlemen. Ashen. Spitfire.”

I waved a hand over my shoulder, already beginning to regret my decision.

“It’s true,” whispered someone, Rohan I thought.

“What’s true?” Nareon sounded genuinely puzzled, though I knew he wasn’t.

“The human girl killed you.” Ayleth’s voice rose to a fever pitch, and I thought about how convenient it was, that I could be
human
in this world, and
synfee
in the other.

“Yeah,” I muttered, “I killed him.”

Nareon moved behind me. I knew because I suddenly grew cold, and needed to wrap my arms about myself.

“Your darkness is growing, sweetheart. It’s time to visit the feeders.”

“Or I could just find a new king. You know, add him to my collection.” My voice was cold, mocking myself and punishing him, but his laugh rang about the room.

“You’re delightful when you’re dark, Spitfire. Maybe you shouldn’t feed after all.”

My jaw clenched, and I slowly turned from the window, waving my arm at the table.

“I brought you out to show your people that they have nothing to worry about. I can’t destroy them, or bring war upon them, or whatever else they might be suspicious of.” My gaze met Nareon’s. “I can’t, because you have a plan, don’t you, Nareon?”

He frowned. “I’m dead, Beatrice,” he said, as if this solved everything—like it
should
have, for any normal person—and then he turned from me to address the room. “Beatrice was chosen to rule by me, for reasons that she doesn’t quite understand yet, though that doesn’t mean that all of you shouldn’t.”

I stared at his back, surprised, as I hadn’t called him in here to lecture them.

“She has an extraordinary amount of empathy, and her connections to the Read Empire are strong. Fenrel and I were in the middle of peace negotiations at the time of my death, and there is nothing more important to us right now than
that
treaty. Beatrice’s connection to the new boy-King will serve you well in the coming months.”

He paused, opened his mouth to say something else, and then almost flickered out of existence. I stepped forward, alarmed, but he solidified once again.

“Ask Leif and Ashen,” he said, and then promptly disappeared.

I swore and kicked the nearest chair.

“Goddam it, Nareon!” I yelled into thin air.

Chapter Seven

Lies, Spies and Allies

Now that Cereen and Rohan had been assimilated into the High Council, Grenlow informed me that he had to pick another guard, but I instead begged him to allow me this one task. He was surprised, but I assured him that I would bring him back three men before the day was over. I returned to the back garden and climbed upon the wall, conscious of the eyes that followed my movements. Everything was different in the light of day; the foreboding beauty of lights blinking in the night was replaced by the bustle of the dull but necessary actions of living. The empty roads now housed the tread of booted feet and wheeled carts, the windowsills now boasted the shifting of adults about the tasks of cooking and cleaning, with children running amok beyond. The river no longer crept with glittering slowness, but trickled with unmasked normalcy, the surface broken by the occasional jumping fish.

The wall housed a sparse contingent of guards now too. They were stationed so that every inch of the grounds below would have a keen eye upon them, except that the keen eyes were either sleeping over barrels, or else chatting idly with each other. 

I figured the best way to find Teddy, Sweet and Quick was to start from where I had left them, and so I walked along the wall to the square tower, keeping my head down. There was only one man in the room, a crossbow slung over his shoulder, leaning up beside one of the murder holes, which was placed beneath a window that I hadn’t noticed the night before. I supposed they must board it up overnight.

He glanced over at me casually, and then almost dropped his crossbow.

“Your High—My Lady, what can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for three men, their names are Teddy, Sweet and—“

“Quick. Aye, I know them. Last I saw, they were in the training yard, does My Lady desire my accompaniment to them?”

“Err, she would—I mean I would. Thanks.”

He walked me to the training yards and then whistled, calling Teddy, Sweet and Quick over, just as I spotted them amid a tangle of limbs and swords. Quick seemed to be the one fighting, though the only way I could tell was from the flashing of golden rings in the sun as he swung his blade. Teddy and Sweet were standing off to the side, and heard the whistle, glancing over. I had no idea how they knew that they were the ones being summoned, but they shouted something to Quick, who faltered in his steps. His opponent knocked him off-balance, causing him to fall backwards into the dirt. He looked up and saw me, allowed Teddy to pull him up, and then shook the dirt off his clothing and out of his hair. 

My guard disappeared as they reached me, and I found myself relaxing somewhat at their presence, though I was worried that their attitude to me would change, now that they weren’t drunk.

“I’m in need of a new personal guard,” I said, without preemption. “Apparently there is a war coming.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Quick easily, flicking a caterpillar from his shoulder. “Leif has been fluttering around rather much, for spring.”

“We’re nowhere near qualified for the royal guard,” Sweet admitted. “We can barely afford armour, Lady Queen, and our weapons are subpar at best, you’d be better off with some of Grenlow’s men.”

“You’re not Grenlow’s men?”

“We’re Leif’s men.”

I blinked.
Silent, spymaster Leif has men
?

“Well, can you fight?”

“We’re better with poison,” Teddy said, “but we can kill a person, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I suppose the question is can you protect a person? I’m
fairly
self-sufficient, but—”

“But you have an unholy death wish? Yeah,” Teddy tried to hold in a laugh, “we’ve heard. It won’t be a problem, Lady Queen. We will protect you.”

“Then whatever you need, you’ll have. I’m fairly sure I can give that order.”

Teddy grimaced. “I’m sure you can, Lady Queen.”

I walked the three back to Grenlow, who raised his brows.

“These?” He gestured to them as if they were clumsy children I’d just kidnapped. “You want these three?”

“Yes, must I ask Leif for permission?”

“You’re the Queen, Lady Beatrice.”

“I mean out of common decency.”

“Common decency?”

I sighed, rubbing the base of my palm against my forehead. “No wonder Nareon thought my empathy was a good quality.”

“Either way, Leif probably already knows,” Quick said.

I glanced at him, wondering if he was joking, but he looked serious enough.

“Leif is everywhere. He’s the Spymaster,” Grenlow said by way of explanation, seeing the look on my face.

“I didn’t see him anywhere.”

“That’s the point.” Grenlow sighed, clearly my insolence was beginning to wear him down, and I actually started to feel guilty.

“Right, well okay then. These three need new weapons.”

“Oh, you’re not trying to kill yourself after all? Come with me, I had the smith make something for you too, Lady Beatrice.”

We walked together past the castle gates and down the slight incline that stretched from the castle itself to Castle Nest. This city was gated too, though the gates hung wide open, and there were no soldiers guarding them. The city was a flurry of busy activity, and Grenlow strode through it with ease, though I found myself bustled on more than a few occasions so that I was forced to pay closer attention to where I walked. Once I got the hang of jumping out of the way, my progress was much smoother, and soon we turned off the main road and down a much quieter street. People began to notice me then, so I kept my head down, until Grenlow ducked into a shop front. It was a blacksmith’s shop, and the man at the anvil stopped what he was doing immediately and strode over to us.