They reached the main temple, where Tesadora lit a candle.
“We have the impostor king and nine of his men lying dead in the palace dungeons. Poisoned,” Sir Topher said after she had finished purifying the air with the scented smoke of the candle and a prayer to her goddess.
Tesadora held his gaze. “Are you accusing me, Sir Topher?” She turned to Trevanion. “Is this an arrest, Captain Trevanion? Or are you expecting me to shed tears for these . . . What did you call them? Men?”
“Our only evidence that Charyn was set to invade Belegonia through our kingdom has been destroyed,” Trevanion said. “What would you do in our place, Tesadora?”
She gave a small laugh. “In your place I would declare this a day of joy for the people of Lumatere.”
“Especially, perhaps, for those who worship Sagrami,” Finnikin said.
“These past ten years the bastard king and his men have not discriminated between worshippers of Sagrami and those of Lagrami. All Lumaterans were victims of their reign of terror.”
“The surviving Forest Dwellers?” Trevanion asked, indicating the woodlands. “Did they order the murder of the impostor king and his men, Tesadora?”
Tesadora ignored the question. “The Forest Dwellers have requested autonomy.”
“No,” Finnikin said firmly. “Your people belong to this kingdom. Autonomy will only make things worse for you.”
“Those who worship Sagrami did not feel as if they belonged to this kingdom during the five days of the unspeakable. Is that not what you call those days?”
“The queen would never allow anything to happen to the Forest Dwellers.”
“And if something happens to the queen? We were protected under our previous king and queen, yet the moment they were gone, we were hunted like animals and slaughtered. Would you like to carry out your census here, Finnikin? Before your five days of the unspeakable, there were four hundred and thirty-seven Forest Dwellers. Today there are less than forty.”
“They will be protected,” Sir Topher said firmly.
“Despite what happens to me?”
“Have we treated you as the enemy?” Finnikin asked. “We need what you can teach us. We need to know about the magic.”
“So you can control it? Cage it?”
“Perhaps to celebrate it,” Finnikin said. “So we can learn to be healers. Your young girls have skills.”
“And you expect me to believe this is your reason for visiting today? When I’m here, answering your questions in an interrogation room?”
“No one is arresting you, Tesadora, and this is a temple,” Sir Topher said.
“Yet your captain holds his sword, ready for attack.”
“The baker stands accused of murder unless you can shed some light on what took place in the palace this morning!” Trevanion snapped.
There was no response.
“He will suffer for something you planned, Tesadora.”
“And Beatriss suffered for something you did, did she not, Trevanion? The captain of the Guard who chose not to lie prostrate at the feet of the bastard king. But by our goddess,” Tesadora swore, “they ensured that his lover lay prostrate at their feet. Continually. Dragged by her hair out of her home night after night. She was once the most envied of women in Lumatere when she was loved by the captain of the King’s Guard. But nobody envied her during our years of captivity. She was their perfect weapon to keep our people in place. When they discovered she was alive and re-arrested her, the bastard king chose not to have her executed. No, he found a better use for the former lover of the captain of the King’s Guard. ‘See this woman,’ he would taunt whenever his men dragged her broken and bruised body into the square. ‘This is what will happen to your loved ones if you dare to challenge a king.’”
Sir Topher hissed with fury as Trevanion walked out of the room. Finnikin could not imagine what images had just passed through his father’s head. He had been told tales of Beatriss’s fate but had foolishly hoped his father would never hear.
Sir Topher stared at Tesadora. “I have a better tale to tell,” he spat. “The one where the captain sensed what would happen between himself and the impostor king. So he sent a message to his trusted friend Perri the Savage, telling him to take Lady Beatriss from her manor to the Valley of Tranquillity, where Lord August and Lady Abian had taken refuge. To leave her with them so she would be protected. But Perri was nowhere to be found that day and never received the message. You see, Perri was on his way to warn a childhood nemesis. Someone he believed his family had wronged for many years. Someone he believed deserved to live. I heard the sorry tale from Perri himself, still grief-stricken after all these years that he let his captain down. Imagine, Tesadora, if Perri had received Trevanion’s message. Imagine the life Beatriss would have had with Lord August and his family in Belegonia.”
Tesadora’s mouth twisted with bitterness, but she failed to prevent the tears from welling in her eyes.
“Yet Perri never regretted his decision to travel this far to hide you and the novices of Sagrami. And I never believed he should regret it, nor Trevanion. Until perhaps today.”
Finnikin went searching for his father. He found him stooped over with his back to the cloister, one hand against a tree. When Trevanion turned, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his face ashen. Sir Topher stood at the cloister entrance and they walked toward him in silence.
“We have no more business here today,” Sir Topher said.
Tesadora appeared in the passageway behind him. Her face was still impassive, but her eyes had softened.
“It began with Beatriss’s first child,” she said. “Your child, Trevanion. My mother went to the stake with the child’s blood on her hands. We believe that the blood, mingled with Balthazar’s and Isaboe’s, got caught up in the dark magic of the curse. And became its light.”
Trevanion was silent.
“Because both the royal children and the babe were pure of heart?” Sir Topher asked.
“No,” she said and Finnikin flinched as her eyes met his. Despite the strangeness of her hair and the darkness of her spirit, she was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“No,” she repeated. “I believe it’s because a young boy made a sacrifice to keep the princess safe. Flesh from your body, Finnikin. But it cost you more than that.”
He dared not look away.
“I was there in the square the day my mother died,” she said, anger in her voice. “Even through her curse, while others ran, I stayed. She watched me come into this world, delivered me herself. So I watched her leave it. The perfect balance, don’t you think?”
No one spoke.
“I saw you that day,” she continued, her eyes fixed on Finnikin’s. “Saw what you did. I keep a dagger with your name on it, Finnikin of the Rock. My only consolation in mourning my mother is that she did not feel those flames for too long.”
Finnikin heard Trevanion’s and Sir Topher’s intake of breath, saw the shock on their faces.
“What did Finnikin’s actions have to do with making contact with Queen Isaboe outside Lumatere?” Sir Topher asked.
“I know as much as you do, Sir Topher. The dead do not send a guide or explanation. We work things out for ourselves. I met Lady Beatriss in the dungeons of the palace, where she lay clutching a dead child. After returning her to Sennington, I did not see her again for another five years. The darkest of years. And then one day, in the fifth year of our captivity, Lady Beatriss arrived on the doorstep. Just over there,” she said, pointing to the entrance. “In the early hours of the morning. And she did not come alone.” She turned to where a young woman knelt in the garden, planting. “Japhra?”
The girl walked toward them, and Finnikin realized she was one of the novices who had been in Tesadora’s cart the day they entered Lumatere. She was short, almost stout. Her eyes were deerlike, her sable-colored hair thick and lush.
“Friends of Lady Beatriss, Japhra,” Tesadora sai
d. “Can you fetch us some tea?”
When the girl left, Tesadora walked them back inside to one of the rooms in the cloister.
“The night she came to me, Beatriss had smuggled Japhra out of the palace and they rode through the dark to find us. Japhra of the Flatlands was twelve. Taken from her family by the bastard king to do with whatever he pleased. She was almost catatonic, and even today her spirit is damaged.”
Finnikin shuddered.
“I had been trying unsuccessfully to contact my mother through the magic of the goddesses and had failed repeatedly. That all changed the night I was reacquainted with Lady Beatriss. Japhra wasn’t the only reason she came to see me. Let’s just say it was for . . . medicinal purposes.”
“She was with child?” Trevanion asked.
“I don’t think I need to tell you that if this conversation ever goes beyond us —”
“You’ll poison us?” Trevanion said.
She sent him a scathing look. “It would shatter Beatriss’s heart if you knew why she came to see me that night, and we don’t want to go around doing that, do we, Captain?”
“She wanted to rid herself of the babe inside her?” Finnikin asked.
“I don’t think she knew what she wanted. But she was exhausted from the ride, so I allowed her to stay the night. The girls and I had had very little contact with the rest of the kingdom up until that point. I had twelve of the forty remaining Forest Dwellers in my care in the cloister, as well as the priestess of Lagrami and her girls. I trusted no one with their lives.”
The girl returned and poured the tea with trembling hands.
“Thank you, Japhra,” Trevanion said quietly.
She nodded and left them.
“That night, the spirit of my mother came calling. I felt her. As if she were holding me somehow. She spoke words to me that I could not recall the next morning, until Beatriss told me of her strange sleep. She had dreamed she held her first child in her arms. And the child had spoken to her. Delivered a message.”
The three men waited.
“‘The child of Beatriss will share dreams with our heir, who will set us free.’”
She took in the looks of shock and disbelief on their faces.
“You could argue that it was the need of two grieving women, one for her mother and one for her child. But at such times, gentlemen, you grab at any sign of hope. You grab it with both hands and breathe life into it, day after day. You do anything to keep it alive.
“We talked about it, the priestess of Lagrami with us, all day and night, putting forward different theories. Seranonna and the child died on the same day and we believed that my mother carried Beatriss’s child to the heavens to be protected by our goddess. That night in our cloister, your child came looking for her mother, Trevanion.”
“What magic did you use to contact Isaboe?”
“None. It’s beyond even my power or knowledge. I can heal because my mother taught me what plants and flowers to use. It’s what I teach the novices. Japhra is one of our most talented. But healing and magic are different things. One must be very powerful to make contact with another through the sleep. A spirit so strong, full of all things good and all things wicked. An ability to look into the darkness and find a light.”
“Isaboe,” Finnikin said.
Tesadora nodded. “She found us. She found Vestie, but I believe her sleep spirit was searching for Beatriss’s first child, Finnikin’s half sister. Somehow, blood caused a bond between Isaboe and any child that Beatriss would give birth to. All because Finnikin made a sacrifice to keep the princess safe, and I’m presuming he used the same dagger for the sacrifice as he did to end my mother’s suffering.”
Finnikin did not respond.
“Of course, Beatriss was petrified about the message, but she knew she had no choice. I promised her that if she gave birth to the child, I would take it and she need never be reminded of who it was or what it represented. She agreed. She had nothing left to give. Oh, but the moment she saw Vestie,” Tesadora said with a sigh, “I believe that if anyone had tried removing that child from Beatriss, they would have lost their life. I think many people were strengthened by the sight of them together. Villagers would visit Beatriss, afraid to speak but not afraid to hope, and somehow Beatriss gave them that hope. ‘What needs to be done,’ she would tell me.
“Then one day the blacksmith of the River village of Petros came to see me. Confessed to me that he had turned a Sagrami worshipper out of his home after the deaths of our beloveds. He begged me to take his daughters for protection.”
“It was good of you to agree,” Trevanion conceded.
“I didn’t,” she said flatly. “So that night, while his family slept, he smothered his wife and three daughters and then plunged a dagger into his own heart. He couldn’t bear the idea of what the bastard king and his men would do to those girls.
“Beatriss threatened that if I did not agree to come up with a plan to protect the young girls of Lumatere, she would refuse me access to her child. A child whose first word was ‘Isaboe.’ It was our earliest indication that the heir and Vestie had walked the sleep together. We were stunned by the knowledge that it was the princess who had lived and not the prince. When I argued that there was nothing I could do, Beatriss spoke about the potion my mother had once given her. She left me no choice but to take in the young girls. Unbeknownst to many, Beatriss of the Flatlands is quite a bully when she sets her mind to it. One can imagine who she learned that from,” Tesadora said snidely, looking at Trevanion.
“You had a choice,” Finnikin said. “You protected the priestess of Lagrami and her novices long before that night.”
“Don’t paint too sentimental a picture of me, young man,” Tesadora said sharply. “It will only make you look like a fool.” Her expression was hard, and Finnikin could tell that she had said as much as she was going to. She stood up to walk them to the entrance.
“We will be questioning the baker tonight,” Trevanion said as they followed her.
“I doubt that very much,” Tesadora said.
Sir Topher and Finnikin exchanged glances.
“The queen has already arranged for his release,” she advised them.
“Is that what you convinced her to do?” Finnikin asked angrily.
Tesadora gave a humorless laugh. “I hear the queen allows only one person to convince her, Finnikin.”
“Once the queen knows what took place in the dungeons —” Finnikin began.
“There is little that takes place in this kingdom that the queen does not know about,” she said, a glint of victory in her eyes. “I would take her advice, Finnikin, and concern yourself less with truth and more on what is for the greater good of her people.”
Finnikin shivered as he realized the truth. He saw by their expressions that Sir Topher and Trevanion had come to the same conclusion. This was no random act from vengeance-seeking Forest Dwellers. The poisoning of the impostor king and his men had come from the highest office in the kingdom.
“Where is she?” he asked, as Moss approached them. “Where is she?”
“Remember your place,” Trevanion said firmly. “In Lumatere the queen rules, Finnikin.”
“Perri has taken her to the Monts,” Moss said quietly.
Finnikin was on his horse before another word was spoken.
Trevanion felt Tesadora’s furious stare as Finnikin rode away.
“Remember his place?” she said angrily. “For the sake of this kingdom, gentlemen, I am hoping that you have not prepared your boy to remember his place among royalty, but rather to recognize it alongside the queen.”
“A very hard task indeed with your mother’s premonition ringing in his head since he was a child of eight,” Sir Topher replied.
“The boy remembers her words the way he wants to remember them,” she said, “but the man must understand them the way they were intended.”
Finnikin caught up with the queen and Perri as they rested at the foot of the mo
untains. Isaboe was sitting next to the guard, her back against a weeping willow, her knees tucked under her chin. The ride had done nothing to quell Finnikin’s rage. When Perri saw the horse’s fast approach, he was on his feet in an instant, his sword ready. Isaboe stood behind him, her eyes dark and piercing. Perri returned his sword to its scabbard and she stepped past him as Finnikin dismounted.
“I hope you’ve come to tell me that Froi’s been found,” she said, anger lacing her words. She wore a violet dress, scooped at the neck with gold trimmings, falling loose to her ankles to give her the freedom to mount and ride a horse.
“What have you done?” he asked, his fury barely contained.
Her hands were clenched. “What I needed to do,” she responded.
“We needed proof,” he spat, “of what Charyn had planned. Yet you ruin any chance of bringing to justice those who were responsible by destroying the ones who could prove it.”
There was so little guilt in her eyes that it fueled his rage. Over her shoulder, he could see Perri poised for action, a look of warning on the guard’s face. Finnikin knew he would be flat on the ground the moment he stepped out of line.
“You feel no remorse?” he said. “Regret nothing?”
Hatred blazed in her eyes. “I regret not being able to watch them suffer. I heard it was long,” she said through clenched teeth, “and my heart sang to hear just how painful.”
“Belegonia has been —”
“Wanting a chance to invade Charyn for as long as this land has existed,” she shouted. “Waiting for any justification.”
“They have every right to know that Charyn was planning an attack on them through us.”
“Belegonia will not care for those who are caught in the middle, Finnikin. They will take Charyn, not out of revenge but for what they can get from that kingdom. And they will use Lumatere as the pathway.”
“So the truth stays hidden?” he asked.
“Better than a truth revealed that will lead to war involving our three kingdoms. Not to mention Sarnak and every other kingdom on our borders. Let Charyn pay, Finnikin. Let Trevanion and Perri do what they do best. Let’s not pretend the captain and Perri know nothing about slipping into a palace and cutting the throat of a savage foreign king who deserves to die. But do not ask me to sacrifice my people.”