Tyrant's Blood (29 page)

Kilt shook his head, feigning disgust. ‘Oh dear. This happens from time to time. Anxiety, I think. Well, I’ll be on my way,’ he said, holding the kerchief to his nostrils. He could feel the blood flowing. ‘Sorry about this.’ He held out his hand. ‘Thank you.’

The man looked uncertain. He had no desire, clearly, to take Kilt’s bloodied hand. Wiping his hand on his knapsack. Kilt re-extended it. ‘My apology. Thank you again. Shev was right, you were extremely helpful.’

Ronder shrugged, and shook hands reluctantly. ‘Your sister is nice. Her husband was a bit strange, though.’ He shook his head as if slightly confused.

When he looked back, Kilt Faris was gone.

Lily was surprised how late it was when she woke with a start. She’d had an unsettling vision that she’d wake to find herself in the arms of Kirin Felt, believing him to be Kilt. Even worse she had the even more disturbing notion that she might have permitted him to treat her as every inch his wife.

She sat up, her heart thumping, and realised that not only was she still fully dressed but the other side of the bed was empty, barely disturbed. Now she felt ridiculous. But as she sat up she realised the real nightmare still existed. She was married…and not to Kilt. Lily rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shook her head. The two men’s names even sounded similar! But that was where the similarities ended. Kirin was Vested, and although their build was not so different, their looks were. Kirin was fair in
contrast to Kilt and had finer features. Kilt had a more distinct jawline, and preferred a very close shaved beard—when he wasn’t in one of his disguises—and that quiet, controlled, remote and often intimidating manner of his was in direct contrast to Kirin’s gentler, more open way. Actually, now that she came to consider it, she felt she’d learned at least as much about Kirin in the short time they’d been thrown together as she knew about Kilt from the ten anni they’d shared. And, frankly, what she’d learned about Kilt had mostly come from Jewd. Kilt never offered information and was certainly cagey about his past.

Secretive. Yes, that’s how she’d describe Kilt. No wonder King Brennus had decided he was the perfect choice to guard and raise Leo. Poor Leo. He had been deeply troubled by Kilt’s decision to meet with the man Freath. She had privately agreed with Leo that it was madness to let that traitorous snake anywhere near them. But there was no one more slippery than Kilt and despite his guarded manner she trusted him and his judgement implicitly. If Kilt believed that Freath was worth listening to, she was happy to go along with the plan.

She’d warned Jewd, because Kilt wasn’t listening, that meeting Freath might push Leo over the edge. This would be his first contact with the world of his childhood and she imagined it would bring back a wealth of bloody, brutal and fearful memories. And the young king was as skittish as she had ever known him. He was a man now, eager to make his own decisions, very aware of his position even though he so rarely mentioned it, and driven by a deep need for revenge. She’d mentioned this several times to Kilt but his only response had been that what Leo really needed was to lie with a woman for the first time.

Kirin, on the other hand, had been sensitive about her situation, although his wedding night kiss had been far from careful…or contrived. Lily stood and stretched. Granted, he’d had to make it look real. They’d had an audience cheering their every move, after all. But there had been passion in that kiss. Lily
pursed her lips, remembering it now; recalling with a flush of discomfort that she’d hardly held back either.

Lily moved to the jug and bowl, grateful to find the water was still fresh and unused. She poured out some water, lathered up some of the soap leaves and washed her face of the sleep…and her embarrassment. Reaching for a small towel, she dried her face, staring into the small mirror. There she was—as traitorous as the man called Freath, pretending to be faithful.

As the thought crossed her mind, Lily stepped back, shocked. That wasn’t true! No! She loved Kilt. In order to protect her life, and their secret, she’d had to marry Kirin publicly and then kiss him publicly. Nothing else had happened. They’d talked through the night until they’d both fallen asleep. She was sure she’d closed her eyes and lost track of the conversation first. And Kirin had covered her with blankets and left her undisturbed. That was all. He hadn’t laid a hand on her, nor she him.

But the kiss? It felt so real
,whispered a small, treacherous voice in her mind.

‘The kiss was a ruse!’ she hissed quietly at her reflection, flinging the towel at the mirror.

‘Lily, my darling?’ said a hesitant voice, accompanied by a gentle tap on the door.

‘Kirin?’

‘It’s me,’ he answered, more normally.

‘I…er, I’m just tidying myself.’

‘I’ve ordered some breakfast for you. Will you be long?’

‘I’ll meet you downstairs shortly,’ she said, her cheeks burning again. She hoped he hadn’t heard her talking to herself.

‘All right. Be quick or your oats will cool.’

She pulled off her clothes and washed herself properly, taking extra time that she knew she really didn’t have to dampen and smooth down her hair as best she could. She grabbed at the few sprigs of burned rosemary left for guests and quickly cleaned her teeth, rinsing with the mint vinegar that had also been laid out the
night before. After re-dressing in her riding clothes, she felt she looked presentable again. Her wedding attire she folded neatly and carried downstairs where Kirin rose to greet her, moving around to pull out a chair at the small table he’d chosen.

‘Good morning,’ he said, smiling. ‘Just in time,’ he added as the serving girl arrived with a steaming bowl of oats. ‘I’ve eaten. You go ahead,’ he urged as the girl set down honey, some nuts, and dried fruits.

‘I’m starving,’ Lily admitted.

‘And very beautiful,’ he replied, glancing at the serving girl, who grinned back.

Lily recognised her from the evening before. ‘Thanks for all that you did,’ she said.

The girl giggled. ‘Hope you had a lovely night.’

‘We did, thank you,’ Kirin said, covering Lily’s hand with his.

She felt the warmth of his touch and knew she couldn’t pull away. But worse, she didn’t want to. She wasn’t used to all this romantic attention, and it was quite pleasant. And thoroughly innocent, since it was simply for show.

When the girl left them alone Kirin withdrew his hand. ‘Sleep well?’

She shook her head. ‘Well? I’m not sure. I certainly slept. Deeply, I think.’

‘You did, I assure you.’

‘Did you sleep?’

He shrugged. ‘I dozed.’

‘Were you even on the bed?’ she whispered.

‘I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’

‘So you slept on the floor?’

‘Dozed in a chair. Eat up,’ he said, nodding at her bowl.

She picked up her spoon, ladled in the first delicious mouthful. He let her eat for a while in silence.

‘You’d been through enough shock for one day,’ he finally said, with a soft sigh.

‘Thank you, Kirin. You’re being very decent about this.’

He shook his head and shrugged.

She reached over and took his hand. ‘Well, even for your rough night’s sleep, you look much better than you did yesterday.’

‘I could use more of those seeds but I do feel much brighter, it’s true. This is how it is. I suffer and then it gets better.’

‘Your eye—?’

‘No,’ he cut her off. ‘That will not regain its sight. I will have to get used to turning my head to see in all directions.’

The moment felt suddenly awkward. Lily pushed her bowl forward. ‘Most delicious, thank you. So, what’s the next part of your grand plan? Please don’t tell me we’re going to the palace.’

‘We’ll have to at some point, I’m sure. But not immediately. I was on a mission when I met you and although in the space of a day I’ve been captured, married and had my blood tasted by a ghoul, I’d still like to complete it.’

She took a sip from the cup of dinch that he’d poured while she ate. ‘To find this man, Clovis. You mentioned him last night.’

He nodded. ‘I’m sorry I talked so much.’

Lily smiled. ‘You have no idea how pleasant it was.’

‘Truly?’

‘Yes. I’ve lived with a man who says little. All the information I glean, I learn from his closest friend who knows everything about him.’

Kirin nodded. ‘But you love him,’ he finished.

‘He’s a good man.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I know that sounds odd given his occupation but…’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ Kirin said gently. ‘He’s a fortunate man.’

‘An irate one now, I imagine, looking for me. He won’t leave any stone unturned. I know Kilt.’

‘He’s going to have to chase us across the compass then,’ Kirin warned.

‘Kirin, why can’t we part now? I can head back and—’

He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I know it seems unfair but Vulpan warned he was going to mention us to the emperor. We have to stick together for now for the story to work. We have to act married, for a bit longer, Lily. Vulpan is suspicious and also vicious. Once the dust has settled on the surprise of my sudden marriage, we can have a huge public argument and you can be rid of me.’

She looked down, feeling ashamed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘I know you didn’t but I need to impress upon you that this is only the beginning of our ruse. If we are to keep your life safe, and mine, we have to continue this charade for a while longer.’

‘Then why not go straight back to the palace now?’

‘Because I have to find Clovis. I told Freath I would. And as he’s probably back at the palace already, having made up a story for my absence, it would be unwise for me to turn up so soon. No, it’s best I press ahead and try and find Piven. At least it helps the cause.’

She looked at him sadly. ‘Last night you seemed unsure of whether the cause was worth it.’

He looked self-conscious. ‘I was obviously in a maudlin mood. This morning I feel as though I need to be more supportive of Freath, of Faris…even you. You’ve given up your life to protect a child.’ He shrugged. ‘I must finish what I began.’

‘What if you don’t find Piven?’

‘I have to believe we will. Clovis was sure he had found him. We simply have to find Clovis.’

Lily nodded. He was right.

‘All done?’ a voice asked. The innkeeper’s wife stood by their table, smiling down at them.

Kirin reacted quickly, beaming at Lily and then at the woman. ‘Thank you, it was all very nice.’ He kissed Lily’s hand, staring at her as if he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away. ‘We’ll be on our way now,’ he said finally. ‘Back to real life.’

The woman laughed. ‘Not staying for the Newlywed celebrations on the green?’

‘Er, no,’ Lily replied, pushing back her chair and standing but maintaining an indulgent smile for the woman. ‘I think my husband and I have celebrated long and hard.’

The woman chortled and Lily blushed at the innuendo she hadn’t intended. Even Kirin grinned. Lily recomposed herself. It didn’t matter what this woman thought. ‘It’s time to head home,’ she said firmly.

‘Where’s home?’ the innkeeper’s wife asked.

‘South,’ Kirin said, cutting off any further enquiry by taking Lily’s hand again. ‘Come, Mrs Felt. I see you’re all packed,’ he said, glancing at Lily’s small bundle. ‘I’ve had the horses brought round. Good day to you,’ he said to the woman, ‘and our thanks again for all the festivity. It was memorable, wasn’t it, my love?’

‘Indeed,’ Lily admitted.

‘Well, you’re all settled,’ the woman replied, referring to their bill. ‘And if you’re sure?’

Kirin nodded. ‘We are.’

He hurried Lily out to the animals that were tethered ready for them outside the inn. Someone had tied a flower into their reins and a long daisy chain trailed behind each of the horse’s tails.

‘Lo save us,’ Kirin whispered. ‘When will it end?’

Lily smiled. ‘Come on, husband, let’s go. Where are we headed?’

Empress Valya had organised for Dara Negev to be brought out into the orchards. Neither noticed the dark shape of the raven, whose sharp eyesight had likely picked out their movement, flying to the tops of the fruit trees to watch.

‘What am I doing here, Valya?’ the old woman grumbled.

Valya smiled. ‘Well, I’ve barely seen you recently. I thought it was time that I found out how you are and what’s happening in your life?’

‘As you see,’ the woman replied, scowling, reaching for a rug.

‘Let me help you with that, Dara Negev,’ Valya offered. ‘It’s not cold today, though.’

‘I am never warm anymore,’ the old woman snapped.

You don’t have to tell me
, Valya thought. ‘It’s an early summer’s day and the sun’s warmth will be good for your bones. Loethar tells me you have aches.’

‘Valya,’ Negev said, impaling her with a cool stare, ‘at my age, everything aches.’

‘I’m sure,’ Valya sweetly agreed.

‘I don’t see why we couldn’t have had this conversation indoors in my chambers.’

‘Well, I thought you’d like being outside, especially in such a
wonderful setting. Look at all the fruit exploding on the trees—you were always one for appreciating the changing seasons. Besides, I thought we might take some dinch together.’

‘Dinch? Bah! You know I prefer the Steppes brew.’

‘But we’re in Penraven now, Negev, and as your son is now more Set than Steppes, I thought you should at least make an effort with the local customs.’ Valya snapped her fingers and nodded at a nearby servant.

‘Empress?’ the servant enquired.

‘Have some dinch served immediately. And perhaps bring some of those sugar biscuits I made for my husband yesterday.’ At the servant’s frown, she clarified, ‘They’re in a tin on my desk. I was going to give them to him today but he left early and I made too many anyway. A few for us will be a treat. Just take a handful from the top layer.’

‘Highness.’ The man bowed. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Yes, Roland, you can tell those men that we will call for them when Dara Negev is ready to be carried indoors but they may leave us now.’

‘Your highness, someone must remain. The emperor—’

‘I understand,’ she cut him off. ‘But we wish to speak privately. Withdraw far enough away that you may watch.’

He nodded and withdrew as instructed.

Negev gave a sound of disdain. ‘There is nothing we have to say that can’t be heard by a servant.’

Valya returned her attention to her mother-in-law but ignored the jibe. ‘Nevertheless, they have to learn.’ She made a tsking sound with her tongue. ‘In my days in Droste, my father would have a servant whipped if they lingered too close.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, aren’t you going to ask how I am?’

‘I’m old but my sight is still good enough, Valya.’

‘Oh come on, Negev. I rarely see my mother and frankly don’t want to now that she’s become a fawning parent only because
of who I married. So you will have to do…and as much as you dislike me, I am about to give birth to your first grandchild.’

‘What do you want from me?’ Negev asked. ‘You have my son, you have my grandchild, you have the title you’ve craved, you have all the wealth a person could need.’

‘And still I feel lonely.’

‘Lonely? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’

‘Maybe not sorrow, but how about some sympathy? I’ve been loyal to you and your family, I can’t—’

‘Valya, you are not loyal to anyone. You were not loyal to your own family and you are certainly not loyal to mine. You are what we call shakken.’ Valya scowled at the old woman’s offensive comparison to the animal but she said nothing as Dara Negev continued. ‘The shakken has no territory of its own, as you know. It roams the Steppes alone, mating but not remaining with its partner to raise young, scavenging its food.’

Valya bristled but kept her expression impassive. ‘And how do you relate a creature of the Steppes to me, Negev?’

‘You are an opportunist. Your own people disowned you and so you found us. And as long as we provide what you need you will remain but I have never suspected you to be loyal to anything but your own needs.’

‘That’s very cruel of you.’ ‘Am I lying?’

Before Valya could answer, Roland arrived.

‘Ah, set the dinch out here,’ Valya instructed. ‘I can pour.’ Roland placed the tray and its accoutrements on the table between the two women. ‘You may go, Roland. I have a bell and can ring for you,’ Valya dismissed him.

‘As you wish, highness.’ He cast a glance at his mistress, Dara Negev, and at her nod he walked far enough away that Valya could not make out his features and she nodded, satisfied.

Negev’s gaze narrowed. ‘Did you really bake those yourself?’ the old woman sneered.

Valya sighed. ‘I did. I’ve noticed Loethar likes them whenever cook sends some up for him. I wanted to learn how to make them myself, so cook taught me.’

‘Buying his love through his belly?’ Negev queried, disdain dripping from her words.

‘I will never understand why you have to treat me with such contempt. I would have thought my adoration of your son would impress you and the mere suggestion of grandchildren would make us closer,’ Valya admitted, busying herself as she poured the drinks.

‘Valya, you have lost more children than I have birthed. I will reserve praise until you actually deliver a son.’

Valya hadn’t thought anything Negev could say could truly penetrate her mental armour; after all, she had been wearing it and strengthening it for years now at the end of this woman’s harsh tongue. But this jab got through, stabbing right at the heart of Valya’s greatest fears. She noticed her hand tremble slightly with rage as she handed her mother-in-law a beautiful porcelain cup from the imperial dinner set that was designed at the time of Loethar’s coronation. ‘I hate you more in this moment than I have ever hated you before,’ she said, glad to snatch her hand back from where she had set down the cup and saucer near the old witch.

Negev smirked. ‘Well, that makes two of us.’ She shook her head. ‘Not for me,’ she said, refusing the dinch. ‘I’m ready to go.’

‘At least taste Loethar’s biscuits,’ Valya said, sipping her dinch to cover her fury and anticipation.

The emperor’s mother could never resist a sweet temptation. Valya had counted on this and had deliberately poisoned only the top layer of biscuits. Dara Negev began chewing as she sneered, ‘Ring for my servants.’

Valya obeyed the command, ringing immediately but continuing to sip her tea, leaving her own biscuit untouched. By the time Roland had hurried over, Dara Negev was already in her
death throes, Valya turning in a stunning performance of a daughter-in-law in despair, screaming for help as the old woman choked and foamed at the mouth.

‘Hurry,’ she shrieked, ‘she’s choking. Fetch help, I’ll try and clear her passageway.’ But Valya only made a pretence of clearing the old woman’s airways, waiting until she knew it was too late and she could see that Dara Negev knew it too. As Roland rushed white-faced from the death scene, Valya smiled. They were finally alone.

‘I heard you suggested to your son that I should be killed.’

Dara Negev was intent on vainly gasping for air. Even so, Valya could see the shock that flared in the old woman’s eyes.

‘You’ve underestimated me. And now you’re paying for it with your life. I baked poison into the biscuits, you old fool. Ah, here comes help now,’ she said, glancing up, pretending to flap helplessly around Negev. ‘See how concerned I look, Negev? They’ll never suspect me. I’ll leave you with this one last thought: perhaps I’ll poison your son too as soon as my son is born. I can rule as regent for him. Die happy, you old witch.’ She looked up, feigning terror. ‘Roland! I think she’s dying!’ she screamed. ‘Help, someone, help!’

In the tumult that followed Valya tipped the remaining two biscuits into the silken pouch she carried. She would dispose of them later. She knew what would unfold now and she had to keep her nerve.

Valya watched Loethar stare silently at his mother’s face. Dara Negev looked surprisingly as though she were sleeping; her expression was peaceful, belying her final struggle to remain alive. The servants had given Loethar a vivid description of what had occurred and Valya imagined he was, in this uncomfortable silence, trying to conjure a vision of his mother’s final moments. Valya, of course, had deliberately cleaned up Dara Negev’s mouth. The servant thought she was making her presentable to
the emperor but her true aim was to remove all clues to the woman’s death.

She could feel the terrible tension building in the room. Loethar was unpredictable and not easily fooled; she would not be surprised if he simply accused her of murdering his mother. Still, she’d made her choice and would not regret it.

Finally the silence got the better of her. ‘Does that bird have to be here with us?’ she said, motioning to the raven.

‘He chooses where he goes,’ Loethar answered.

‘It’s disrespectful,’ Valya said, making sure her eyes were misty, her lips slightly trembling. ‘Where’s Stracker?’ she asked tearfully. The weeping wasn’t hard to achieve; she was genuinely terrified of the brothers. Loethar had walked around his mother’s corpse a dozen times already; the creak of his leather boots and waistcoat the only clue, up until a moment ago, that someone else was alive in this chamber with her…other than her baby. She touched her belly. He was alive. Claiming the throne from the womb. Securing his mother’s future.

Loethar glanced up at her, startling her out of her thoughts. ‘How is our child?’

‘Thank you for asking. Today has been very unnerving. But he…he is fine.’

Loethar nodded. The silence lengthened again before he sighed. ‘This is the second time in as many days that I’ve had to view the body of someone I care about here in this chapel.’

He cared about Freath
? He’d never said as much before. ‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ she admitted.

‘She died choking, I’m told.’

‘Her heart must have given out. She was struggling to breathe.’

‘She came from people who lived well past their tenth decade. Her mother was ninety-eight anni, her father ninety-nine.’

Valya shook her head. ‘I’m no physic. She could have choked on the biscuits she ate.’

‘Biscuits?’

She nodded.
Stick close to the truth,
she’d told herself. ‘I think she might have eaten two. You know how she is about sweet things.’

‘And drank nothing?’

‘No, that’s my point.’ Valya sniffed, and dabbed a silk square to her expertly running nose. ‘She refused the dinch we served. I did say to her that she should take a swallow of it.’

‘Who served it?’

‘Er…it was Roland.’

‘Roland?’

‘Yes. He’s attached to your mother’s retinue.’

Loethar strode to the door, opened it and gave a muffled order before returning. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

‘I can’t. I can’t be still. This is so terrible. I felt so helpless.’

‘Helpless? You, Valya?’

‘Oh don’t you start now, Loethar, please. And stop repeating what I say. I’m weary and your mother is dead. Let’s show some respect.’

He stared at her, expressionless. ‘I presume my mother was her usual charming self?’

Valya nodded. ‘She was wicked to me. But I would never wish this on her.’

Vyk flapped his wings and made a loud cawing sound. He lifted from Loethar’s shoulder and swooped near Valya’s head. Shrieking, Valya slapped at the bird, which found purchase on an archway, staring menacingly down at her.

‘What possessed you to seek her out today?’ Loethar continued. ‘You’ve ignored each other for several moons.’

She tossed her hair in a vexed manner. ‘As I tried to explain to Dara Negev, I am about to deliver her grandson. I have no family that I care about, I have no one close to talk to—you…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, you’re always busy. I just thought she might talk me through this whole business of childbirth and I really rather hoped that our son might bring us all closer. I wanted her and myself to find a level of friendship. I know we come from different
worlds but we have you, our son, the empire in common. We are family.’

He did not seem moved; in fact, he regarded her with a look that was so veiled she couldn’t tell whether he was amused or startled by her suddenly impassioned manner.

At the sound of a knock, Loethar turned. ‘Come,’ he called.

Roland entered, looking terrified.

‘Your highnesses,’ he said. ‘I…words can’t…I’m sorry.’

‘We understand,’ Loethar comforted. ‘This is a very difficult time for us all. Roland, you are attached to Dara Negev’s retinue, am I right?’

‘Yes, my lord, since her arrival in the palace.’

‘Did you make the dinch?’

Roland looked startled. Then he frowned. ‘No. It was made by the kitchen staff. I could—’

‘That’s not necessary. Were you present when the dinch was made?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Were you present when it was poured for my wife and my mother?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘So who did pour?’

‘I did, Loethar,’ Valya said, adding a freshly weary tone to her voice. ‘I also drank it,’ she added before he could move to the next obvious question.

‘Did my mother drink any?’ Loethar turned to Roland, ignoring Valya.

Roland shook his head. ‘I watched two cups poured and only one was drunk from. Your mother’s cup was full, her dinch untouched. I noticed the empress sipping from her cup before and in her anxiety after your mother…er…’ He looked too terrified to say any more.

Loethar turned. ‘We checked for poison, did we, my love?’

Valya sighed. ‘Ask Roland.’

‘The empress instructed me to take the tray immediately to the apothecary, my lord. The physics have tested the pot, the cups, the remains of the dinch in both cups and pot and can find no trace of poison.’

Loethar nodded. ‘The biscuits, Roland. Where did those come from?’

‘From a tin in the chambers of the empress.’

‘I see,’ he said, glancing at Valya.

‘Did you bring them to the table?’ he asked her.

‘I baked them for you. I brought none to the table but I asked Roland to fetch some when your mother decided on something sweet.’