Well of the Damned (43 page)

He
turned away, suddenly sick to his stomach. With his mouth watering,
he stumbled outside and vomited into the hedge. Feanna. His dear,
lovely Feanna. How could that have happened? Cirang must have fed her
the wellspring water, but how had she gotten it? His heart ached as
his stomach heaved again. His eyes watered. She was gone. The woman
he’d married was as good as dead, and in her place was a cruel,
vicious monster who everyone thought was the queen. A monster
carrying his unborn son.

How had the water affected the
baby in her womb?

“My
liege,” someone said, “can I help you?” He looked
up into Tennara’s face and saw kindness and concern.

“Find
him. And bring me some water, will you?”

Adro
hid in the wardrobe, utterly naked, hoping Kinshield would think he’d
escaped. He’d opened the window to make it look as if he’d
climbed through it. He heard their muffled voices through the
wardrobe doors and breathed as quietly as he could. When he heard
someone retching — he assumed it was the king — he had to
put a fist into his mouth to stifle a laugh.
What a milksop.

The
doors flew open, and he gasped up into the face of the king’s
very angry champion. Her pale-blue eyes were alight with fury. Before
he had a chance to concoct an explanation for his presence there, she
grabbed him by the hair and pulled him out. The pain in his scalp
made his eyes water. “Ow! Let go, wench.”

He
ended up falling to his hands and knees on the hard wood floor, along
with a few of Feanna’s shoes that had been in the wardrobe with
him.

“You
have until I count to five to dress,” Daia said, “otherwise,
I’m taking you to gaol as you are.”

“Fine,”
he said, holding up his hands. “My clothes are under the bed.”
He lay on his stomach and reached for the wad of clothing. The first
handful was silken — Feanna’s dress — and he pushed
it aside. Then he felt the rougher cotton and pulled it out. He rose
to his feet, watching Daia’s eyes flick down the length of his
body. “Like what you see? I’ve got enough for you, too.”
He tried to reach around her waist with one arm, but then pain
exploded in his nose, the blow snapping his head back. His hand went
to it instinctively and came away bloody. The wetness trickled down
over his mouth and chin. “Bloody wench!” He swung at her
with a fist and found himself face down on the bed. She pushed his
head into the mattress.

“Don’t
be an idiot,” she said. “Surrender or die.”

“All
right,” he said. “I relent.”

She
let him go, and he pushed himself to his feet. Adro glared at her for
a moment, calculating the number of steps between him and his sword
that he left leaning against the wall behind her. He pulled his
trousers on and laced them. “Show her what you got, Fe. Maybe
she’s more interested in you than me.” Feanna giggled and
lowered the bed covers, revealing her nudity. Daia didn’t look,
but he could see she was distracted by the move. He stepped in with a
hooking punch that connected with her left cheek and sent her
sprawling. He lunged for the sword. From the corner of his eye, he
saw a figure engulf the doorway, and then he was flying.

He
slammed into the wall with his right side and lost his grip on the
sword. Though the sword clattered to the floor, Adro remained stuck
to the wall like a fly in honey. He squirmed and wriggled, managing
only to shift so that his back was to the wall, but his feet dangled
two feet above the floor. The ceiling was only inches from his head.

From
this position, he saw Gavin Kinshield, his left arm extended, palm
outward. His eyes glowed almost as brilliantly as did the gems in the
hilt of his sword. His teeth were gritted, and slowly his fingers
closed as if he were squeezing water from a rock. A drop of blood
crawled from one nostril down his upper lip, clung there for a
moment, and then fell with a light plop to the floor. Another
followed, and another, though he seemed not to notice.

An
ache started in Adro’s heart and quickly worsened to a sharp
pain. He felt its beat weaken and slow. His thoughts dimmed, and a
film of white formed over his vision, like a fog growing thicker by
the moment. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.
Distantly, he heard people crying, “Gavin! Stop!” Just
when the fog covered everything and the shouts faded to silence, he
felt himself falling. His body hit the floor, shocking him awake with
a gasp. His sword. It was only inches away. He reached for it, but
just as his fingers touched the hilt, it flew towards Gavin’s
open hand and slapped into his palm.

Daia
fell onto Adro’s back, pressing one knee into his spine.
“Lila,” she shouted. “Bring something to tie him
with.”

From
where he lay on the floor, Adro could feel the hatred emanating from
Gavin, though his eyes were no longer glowing. Feanna wrapped the
bedsheet around her body and ran to Gavin’s side. “Gavin,
thank goodness you’ve come. He forced himself on me. It was
awful! I was so frightened.”

“Lying whore!” Adro
said. “She’s been giving herself to me since before you
were even married.” It was a lie, but Gavin’s magic
vision had failed him when he used it on Cirang. It was his word
against hers, and she’d turned on him. She deserved it. “The
baby in her belly’s not even yours, Kinshield.” Adro
laughed. He hadn’t planned to say that, but it was perfect.
Even if Kinshield suspected he was lying, it would plant a seed of
doubt and worry him for the rest of his days. “That’s my
son she carries.”

Lilalian
came into the room and tossed Daia a thick leather thong, which she
used to bind Adro’s wrists behind his back.

“It’s
not true, darling,” Feanna said. “This is your son. Your
magic tells you that, doesn’t it?” She clung to Gavin as
if he was a raft in a sea of doubt, but he took her by the arms and
pushed her away.

Gavin
looked down at her with cold eyes. “No, it doesn’t. And
your word is worth no more than his.”

“When
you see his blond hair, then you’ll know.”

“Shut
up, Adro,” Daia said, hauling him to his feet, “or I’ll
do it for you.”

He
saw doubt flicker in Kinshield’s eyes, and beneath it, fear.

Cirang
walked along a gravel path from the stable towards a small, white
building with her head bowed, hands clasped behind her, unbound, and
her upper arm locked in Brawna’s grip. She had no desire to
resist, and in fact welcomed whatever punishment she was due. Her
only hope was that King Gavin listened long enough to hear her
warning.

As
they neared the building, she heard raised voices, though she
couldn’t make out the words. Brawna guided her inside, where
Hennah, Mirrah and Anya lay on their bellies, bound and gagged. To
see those once-noble Viragon Sisters treated like criminals wrenched
Cirang’s heart. This, too, was her fault, but if the wellspring
water was responsible for turning them into what they were, and it
had reversed her own wickedness, then King Gavin could simply turn
them back with a drink from the water in her skin.

Lilalian
and Tennara stood near an open door. Over their heads, Cirang spotted
the king and the jeweled sword on his back. The sword that would soon
end her life.

“Move
aside,” Brawna said. The swordswomen looked at Cirang first
with surprise and then with anger or perhaps hatred, but they stepped
aside to let her pass. “King Gavin, I found Cirang.”

Everyone
fell silent.

Daia
was standing behind a shirtless Adro, holding a knife blade against
his neck. Standing beside the king, Queen Feanna was wrapped in a
beige sheet from the disheveled bed. King Gavin turned, his eyes dark
with fury and his jaw clenched.

“I
intended to slay her,” Brawna said, her voice slightly higher
than it had been a moment earlier, “but she begged me to give
her a chance to speak with you and to answer your questions.”

He
cocked his head and regarded Cirang with a curious expression.

“She
has nothing to say worth hearing,” Daia said. “Take her
outside and kill her. Let her blood spill into the earth. Maybe it’ll
kill the weeds.”

“No,”
King Gavin said. “I want to hear what you got to say, Cirang.
Are you responsible for this?” He put his hand on the back of
the queen’s neck and pushed her forward, putting her on
display. Feanna’s eyes were dead, as though she were a hollow
shell in the shape of a person with nothing inside. No, not nothing.
Something... awful, like the beyonders that used to plague the land.

That’s
how my eyes must’ve looked before I drank the water.

Cirang
swallowed hard. “Yes, my liege. It’s my doing, and I’m
so very sorry, but I can fix this. If Queen Feanna drinks—”

Feanna pointed at her. “Traitor!
She kidnapped me and tried to feed me to a demon. Now she wants to
poison me. I demand her head.”

“Quiet,”
King Gavin said. “You can’t fix
this,
Cirang.”
He pulled Feanna back again. “My wife,” he yelled, “is
corrupted. My battlers are corrupted. What about my unborn son? Is he
corrupted, too?”

“I’m
so sorry. I don’t know,” Cirang said.

“Where
did you get the water? The guardians said you didn’t take any
from the wellspring.”

“There
was a leak down the side of the mountain caused by the landslide. I
filled two waterskins, and I still have the second full skin. If they
drink it again, maybe the effect will be reversed.”

The
king motioned toward Adro. “Try it. Give him a cup of it.”

“What?
No,” Adro said. “I’m not thirsty.”

Brawna
dug into the knapsack for the waterskin, and poured a bit of water
into a cup on the side table. She offered it to Adro, but his hands
were bound behind his back.

Daia
took the cup and held it near his mouth. “Drink it willingly,
or drink it by force. Your choice.”

He
laughed. “You can’t make me drink it.”

In
reply, Daia kicked his knee out from under him and took him to the
ground. In seconds, she was sitting on his chest, holding the cup
over his mouth. “By force it is.” She pinched his nose
shut.

“All
right,” he said. “I’ll drink it.” He opened
his mouth, and she poured the water in. When he swallowed it and
opened again to show her his mouth was empty, she got up and pulled
him to his feet.

Several
moments went by in silence. Everyone watched Adro expectantly,
waiting. Cirang prayed silently for the first time since she’d
been the man Sithral Tyr, begging any god that might be listening to
please set things right.

Adro
jumped suddenly and said, “Boo!” When a couple of them
flinched, he cackled gleefully. “Got you.”

“Nothing’s
happening,” King Gavin said. “Seems drinking the water
again doesn’t fix the problem.” He turned his angry eyes
to Cirang. “How’d you do it? How’d you get her to
drink it?”

She
swallowed. The temptation to bow her head, to hide from what she’d
done, was strong, but she came here to own her actions and to face
justice. She trembled under the weight of his powerful gaze. “I
murdered an acolyte and stole her robe and veil. I slept in her bed
in a cellar room, and only went outside dressed as the acolyte
Altais.”

Daia’s
jaw dropped open. “You were in the temple?” she asked. “I
searched it for you.”

Cirang
nodded. “I saw you come in, heard you ask about me, and so I
slipped out the rear door and waited in the alley until you left.”

“I
should’ve been able to see her,” King Gavin said.

“The
temple’s protected from magic — even yours,” Queen
Feanna said.

“Explain.”

Queen
Feanna sighed. “In the olden days, charlatans posing as clerics
used magic to forge miracles. Every temple embedded gems in the
ceiling and walls to block magic. It’s the only way to know
whether Asti-nayas is performing a true miracle.”

“They
use magic to block magic?” King Gavin asked.