White Blood (33 page)

Could she seduce Carlich? She nearly gagged at the thought, but she forced herself to consider it. Would she be able to fake interest in him enough to persuade him to dally with her? And would he be thoughtless enough about the ramifications to allow her milk to touch his tongue?

No. There was no chance. She might be able approach him subtly enough he wouldn’t realize she was immune to the compulsion spell. She might be able to overcome her horror at committing such a grave sin. But she could never act well enough to conceal her disgust at his touch. Besides, even if she could, he’d never look at her. She was far beneath him. Palace gossip held that Prince Carlich had his pick of all the most beautiful and high;-;ranking women in the kingdom, and he was rumored to be very discerning in his tastes. He certainly wasn’t among those nobles who were known to take their pleasures with any servant who caught their eye. He’d had plenty of opportunity to take advantage of her during their flight to Ralo, and he’d hardly seemed aware of her as a fellow human, let alone a woman worthy of his interest.

Maryn breathed a little easier. But there might still be merit in her idea. Surely she could figure out some way to sneak a little of her milk into Carlich’s food or drink.

Jumping up, Maryn began to scour the room for any container she might use. The water pitcher and basin were much too big and bulky. She could offer Carlich a drink of water when he came to her room, but she’d never done anything like that before, and he might grow suspicious. And he might taste something strange about water with milk in it; better to add a few drops to something strong or sweet flavored. She needed a small, sealed container she could fill with her milk and keep concealed on her person, ready to pour a little into Carlich’s plate or cup whenever the chance arose.

Nothing in her room fit that description. She hesitated. It had been two days since the last time she’d seen Tior on duty. He usually stood a shift every other day, so chances were good he was outside her door right now. She’d been too upset when she was brought back from the church to notice.

The door creaked when she eased it open. Both guards twisted to stare at her. “Yes, Miss?” one asked. “Do you need something?”

He was a stranger, but Tior stood on the other side of the door, his mild eyes anxious. Maryn gave him a quick, pleading glance, before she turned back to the other. “No. I’m fine. I was just wondering when my meal would come.”

“I’m sure it’s on its way.” The guard scowled at her.

Maryn bobbed her head. “Of course. I’ll try to be patient.” She shot Tior one last impassioned look before ducking back into the room and closing the door.

Soon the servant did arrive with dinner, meat and vegetables in a creamy sauce so richly spiced Maryn was sure it must be the same Priest Vinhor was serving the guests at his high table. Carlich would never notice a few drops of her milk mixed into something like this. Maryn pulled down her shift and squirted a little onto her plate to make sure. She swirled the thin white liquid into the thick sauce and tasted it. No, she could detect nothing suspicious. Her plan might work, if she could pull it off.

Barilan woke before she was done eating. She finished her meal supporting him in one arm and nursing him while she plied the spoon with her other hand. The silver plate was empty and she was contemplating licking the last traces of the delicious sauce from its surface when the door creaked open. Tior hissed at her. “What do you want? I’ve only got a moment before he comes back.”

Maryn set her plate down and rose, supporting Barilan with both arms. He was getting so heavy that carrying him around while he nursed was growing harder. “Can you get me a small container? It needs to be watertight, and sealable. A little flask, perhaps, or a small bottle of some sort? Like an apothecary would use.”

Tior frowned, puzzled. “Whatever do you need that for?”

“I can’t tell you. But please, it’s important. Just something I can carry a bit of liquid in.”

He shrugged. “All right. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

Maryn fidgeted with a fold of Barilan’s gown. “Can you bring it soon? Later today? I know Prince Carlich plans to leave tomorrow, so you might not get another chance.”

“I can’t go running off to the apothecary during my shift! And I’m not allowed in here when I’m not standing duty.” But at her stricken expression Tior’s tone softened. “I’ll do what I can. But Captain Tennelan ordered us all to pack our gear, so I expect we’re going with you. Hopefully they’ll keep assigning me to guard you. It’s a dull job nobody wants. They think I’m lazy because I keep volunteering, but they’re happy enough to let me have it.”

Maryn swallowed. “I truly appreciate it, Tior. You don’t know how much…”

“It’s nothing. I told you, I want to help you.” Tior started and glanced over his shoulder. “He’s coming. I’ll bring you something as soon as I can.”

He nodded to her and closed the door. Maryn worried that he might not be able to find what she needed, or get it to her in time if he did, but she had to be content. She retreated to her chair by the hearth and switched Barilan over to the other side. The steady rhythm of his mouth on her breast helped lull her to calm and push to the back of her mind the knowledge that if she didn’t manage to accomplish her plan, Carlich would surely kill them both.

Nineteen

T
ior didn’t come back all that day. At last, late into the dark hours, Maryn gave up her vigil and crawled into bed.

At first light, just as the church bells pealed the beginning of the day’s work, fists pounded on her door. “Wake up!” a guard’s voice called. “Prince Carlich orders that you prepare the king to depart in one hour!”

Maryn scrambled out of bed and flung on her clothes. She was only half dressed when the door swung open and the servant girl hurried in with breakfast. “Do you have everything you need to care for the king on the journey?”

Maryn eyed the pile of clean cloths. “More diapers, I think. And I’ll need something to pack them in. Do you know how long Prince Carlich plans to have us on the road?”

“Only as long as it takes to reach Loempno, if all goes well.” The girl lowered her voice. “I heard he plans to challenge Princess Voerell as soon as he gets to the gates! They say Barilan didn’t inherit the Kingship after all. Do you know anything about it?”

Maryn quickly tried to think what answer might best serve Voerell and hinder Carlich. Maybe she could sow doubts about Carlich’s story. She glanced at the door and stepped closer to the servant, lowering her voice. “Don’t let anyone know I told you, but Priest Vinhor did some sort of spell on Barilan. I saw Barilan light up all over, and it looked like a crown was floating over his head. But then Priest Vinhor kept chanting and waved his hands around, and the crown faded until I couldn’t see it any more.”

The servant girl’s eyes grew big and round. “Ooh! Does that mean Barilan really is king, and they hid it?”

“I don’t know.” Maryn didn’t want to appear too certain for fear the girl would get suspicious. “They didn’t say what they were doing. But that’s what it looked like to me.”

The servant nodded, eyes unfocused as she digested this piece of gossip. Suddenly her eyebrows shot up. “Or maybe the
princess
put an illusion on him, and they got rid of it!”

Could what she’d said be interpreted that way? Maryn thought back over her words and realized they could. It was too late to change her story, though, so she just shrugged, trying to look like she didn’t care one way or the other. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She bit her lip. “Please don’t tell anyone else. Prince Carlich would be angry at me if he found out I told you about it.”

“Oh, I won’t. I swear.” But Maryn was certain the servant girl would begin spreading the rumor as soon as she left the room. She had a sinking feeling she had inadvertently helped Carlich instead of undermining him.

Maryn snatched bites of porridge between tending a fussy Barilan and speaking with the servants who were constantly in and out of her room. A man brought a small trunk and began loading all Barilan’s belongings into it. Another brought a leather pack into which Maryn stuffed her spare set of clothes. The need to call Carlich nagged at the back of her mind. She worried she wouldn’t have a chance to work Siwell’s fortifying spell before he came. But she snatched a moment when her room was empty to bite her finger and race through the words of the spell, barely finishing before another servant arrived to clear away her dirty bowl.

Eventually Carlich appeared and sent everyone else from the room. For the first time since they arrived in Ralo, he made her bare her arm so he could cut her. “I need to save all my strength,” he said. “I can’t afford to be low on blood when I face my sister. You’ll have to provide until this is over.”

Maryn suppressed a wince. Her arms were just starting to recover from the cuts he’d inflicted on their way here. Only in the past couple of days had she been free of a constant dull throb in her forearms. Now this fresh wound would start the healing process all over again.

When he finished the spell, Carlich beckoned to her. “Get Barilan and come with me. The servants will bring the gear.”

She obediently gathered up Barilan and followed him from the room and down the corridor, though her heart quailed. Tior hadn’t come through for her. How would she ever find the means or opportunity to spike Carlich’s food with her milk while they were traveling?

Outside the guesthouse, in the courtyard that surrounded the Church’s buildings, a huge gathering of men and horses milled about. Brightly colored banners snapped in the breeze; shouts and the stamping and snorting of beasts filled the air. Large groups of heavily armed men arrived, received orders, and departed, to be replaced by others wearing different livery. Carlich must have gained the support of every lord within a hundred miles to command so many.

Servants brought a tall, fiery warhorse for Carlich, and a placid palfrey on a lead rein for Maryn. Carlich held Barilan while Maryn mounted and settled into the sidesaddle, then passed him up to her. She wrapped her arms firmly around the baby. Barilan stared, captivated, at the activity around them, but his tense body told Maryn he was close to being overwhelmed by the noise and excitement.

Carlich swung up onto his mount. He made the beast rear and pivot, both of them restless with impatience. Captain Tennelan hailed him from across the courtyard; Carlich rode over to consult with him. The mounted guard leading Maryn’s horse guided it to one side, out of the way.

They waited for a short while before Priest Vinhor appeared, wearing plain travel vestments. Servants helped him onto a glossy bay horse with an elegantly arched neck.

Carlich sidled his mount next to the priest. “What took you so long? Is everything ready?”

“Yes, your Highness. The last of the messengers has gone out. We may depart.”

“It’s about time!” Carlich wheeled his horse around and cantered toward the gate. Captain Tennelan joined him, and a number of soldiers formed an escort around them. The guard leading Maryn’s mount clucked to his horse; Maryn tightened her knee around the pommel as the palfrey swayed into motion. Priest Vinhor fell into place, and all the rest of the company followed.

Their procession wound through streets lined with cheering and waving townspeople. The main gates swung open to let them pass. From the fields surrounding the town, great masses of mounted men and foot soldiers converged to join the throng. Every time Maryn twisted around to look, the line stretched farther behind them. Once she spotted Lord Negian’s banner and wondered if her father or her brothers were among the levies he’d raised to march in Carlich’s train.

Throughout the day’s ride more troops flocked to their side. Every time a new band joined them, the leader would report to Carlich and Captain Tennelan, and Priest Vinhor would check off another name on his list. Carlich’s eyes flashed brighter and his hands moved in ever more expansive gestures as the number of those prepared to fight for him against Voerell grew.

Because of the size of their company and the large proportion of foot soldiers, their pace was slow, and sunset overtook them less than halfway to Loempno. They made camp in a large wheat field, trampling golden stalks only a few weeks from harvest.

Maryn’s legs nearly crumpled beneath her as she slid down from her mount. Her thighs and buttocks throbbed where the saddle had rubbed sores. Her arms ached from supporting Barilan all day and shook when Carlich passed the sleeping baby back to her. The motion roused him, and he screwed up his face and emitted a thin wail. Maryn closed her eyes and groaned, leaning against the solid side of her horse. Barilan had cried for most of the afternoon, resisting all her efforts to comfort him. She’d finally managed to lull him to sleep only a short time before they stopped. Now, robbed of a full nap, he’d be cranky all evening.

“As soon as my tent’s ready, report to me there,” Carlich ordered, fingering his sorcery knife and glancing at her arm.

Rage bubbled up within Maryn. She longed to spit a refusal in Carlich’s face, jab a knee into his groin, and bolt. She didn’t care that they were surrounded by thousands of Carlich’s supporters and miles from any place she might find refuge. She just wanted the satisfaction of seeing the shock on his face when he realized he no longer controlled her.

It took all her strength to master her reaction and feign the proper meekness. “Yes, your Highness.” She’d renewed Siwell’s spell the last time they’d let her duck behind a bush to relieve herself. She could endure the pain of one more cut, and one more, as many as it took until the right time came to act. As she bowed her head and followed the servant Carlich indicated, she sent up a passionate prayer to the Holy One that the time might come soon.

She and Barilan were given a tent to themselves. It wasn’t large, but it was well appointed with carpets and lamps and a spacious cot. They were confined to it, of course, with the usual guards at the entrance. But at least it was quiet and private. After a guard returned her from the requisite trip to Carlich’s tent, Maryn was finally able to relax. She devoured slices of meat from one of the bullocks that had been commandeered from a nearby farm, slaughtered, and roasted over great fires to feed the prince and his retinue.