Marcus and Amyu entered the room with trays of kavage and food. The scarred man focused his eye on Othur. “Your bonded is looking for you, with a small army in her wake.”
Othur rolled his eyes. “One would think we were preparing for battle instead of a wedding.”
Marcus held up the pitcher and a mug, and Lara nodded. “Please, Marcus.”
“As you like it,” Marcus said. “More milk than kavage.”
Lara took the mug with a smile of thanks.
“Marcus,” Keir began, but Marcus turned his back on him.
Lara chortled into her mug.
“I will serve you, Warlord,” Amyu said, doing just that. “I have kavage for you. Strong and black.”
“My thanks,” Keir said with a grumble, staring at Marcus’s back. “Seeing as how no other will serve me.”
“Seeing as how you have ignored my wishes,” Marcus growled without turning around. “I have served you well and do not deserve—”
“Liam deserves to have his truths heard, at the very least,” Keir said.
Marcus stomped off into the bedchamber.
Keir grimaced as he took the mug from Amyu. Lara left Atira and moved back to Keir’s side, leaning up against him.
Othur stepped over to Atira. “So, Marcus and the Warlord Liam, they are a couple?”
“Yes.” Atira nodded, speaking softly. “They are . . . were . . . bonded. But when Marcus was scarred . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip.
“When his ear burned away, Marcus declared the bonding sundered by the elements.”
Keir finished for her. “Is that a problem?” His sharp blue eyes focused on Othur even as Lara gave him a worried look.
“No, Overlord, not for me,” Othur responded easily. “But it will be with the church.”
“The last thing we need is another issue,” Lara sighed, starting another circle around the room.
“One good thing is that, in some ways, their argument and the wedding have taken some of the attention off the Justice,” Othur offered. “It’s still important, but now they’ve other things to think on.”
“Have they gathered?” Lara asked.
“There’s time yet,” Othur assured her. “Have you thought of how you are going to resolve this?”
“Oh yes,” Lara nodded. “I have a few ideas.”
“And are you going to share those ideas with your Seneschal?” Othur arched an eyebrow.
“What, and ruin the surprise?” Lara smiled, then shook her head. “I will wait until they have presented their cases, Othur. Then I will decide. They deserve to have their truths heard.”
“Just remember, Lara,” Othur said. “Some of the lords wait to see what actions you will take before deciding on their own. You need to be careful—”
A commotion outside the door caught everyone’s attention. The doors opened, and Anna spilled within, her arms filled with cloth, followed by two maids, their arms filled as well.
Othur took the wisest path and pressed himself against the wall, well out of the way.
ATIRA WATCHED IN AMAZEMENT AS ANNA GLARED around the room. “Don’t you know there’s a wedding this night? And you’re all standing around like there’s nothing needs doing.”
“There’s a Justice,” Heath offered, but Anna would have none of that.
“They’ll wait.” Anna went to a small table off to the side and set her burden down. “I sent sweet rolls and herbed tea to the lot, and with any luck, they will stuff themselves silly and be happy and sated when you arrive.”
“One could only hope,” Othur muttered.
“And where have you been?” Anna demanded. “There’s been a thousand and one things that needed deciding, and you not to be found.”
“Alas, I was concerned with the Justice,” Othur said. “I am sure whatever you decided will be fine. But Lara needs to go—”
“They can wait a while,” Anna said firmly. “They can’t start without her, now, can they? Time enough to measure you for a dress.”
Lara sighed and looked ruefully at the fabric. “It’s traditional to wear your mother’s dress, but I’d never fit into it. The noble ladies are all going to whisper behind their hands and talk of my belly.”
“Since when have you cared one whit for what those geese think?” Anna said. “And you can wear the regalia of a royal bride easily enough. I’ve the mantle here.” She gestured for the maids, and they started to unfold the bundle of fabric.
“I don’t care. Not really.” Lara sighed again, shifting in her chair with a grimace. “It’s just that . . .” her eyes welled with tears. “I just wanted to be pretty.”
Atira caught her breath, sharing Lara’s sorrow.
Keir knelt, putting his arm around Lara and looking up into her eyes. “You will be the loveliest woman there, flame of my heart.”
Tears ran down Lara’s face, and she pulled Keir into as much of a hug as her belly would allow. “I’m so sorry—I can’t seem to stop being silly.”
Atira looked away in time to see Anna and her women spread out a lovely cloak that seemed to stretch out for miles. She gasped as the light glittered on the gold cloth.
“What is that?” Amyu asked, her voice hushed as she drew nearer.
“The mantle of Xy, worn by the royal brides for many years,” Anna said proudly.
She was right to be proud. The mantle was of embroidered gold cloth that shimmered as it moved. Along the collar and the edge of the entire garment was a trim of white fur, with spots of black.
“The fur is ermine,” Anna explained to Amyu.
“What are these?” Amyu asked, her fingers brushing the embroidery that decorated the mantle all down the back and along the length. “It’s the same as on that cloth hanging in the hall.”
“That cloth is called a tapestry,” Anna explained. “An ancient symbol of the House of Xy—a creature of legend called an airion. The body, head, and legs of a horse, with the beak, wings, and claws of an eagle. They were the ancient protectors of Xy, keeping us safe from the monsters of old, or so the stories say.” Anna pointed at the animal. “Look at the detail in the stitching. You don’t see that these days.”
Lara lifted her head from Keir’s embrace. “I’d forgotten how lovely it is,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“And I’ve white cloth to match for a dress,” Anna said. “So stand up and let us be about this.”
“But the lords are waiting,” Othur protested.
“They can just wait. Time enough to make a dress, but we need to make sure of things.” Anna scowled at the lot of them. “You men can just scoot. Go on now, shoo. Shoo!”
“We have our orders,” Othur said as he headed for the door. “I’ll head down to the throne room and stall for a bit. But do not keep us waiting too long, mind.”
“Your escort will be outside,” Heath said.
Keir stood. “I’ll go and armor myself.” He looked down at Lara with a twinkle in his eye. “Apparently a wedding is like any battle. We show up, obey our orders, and hope that the plan survives the first engagement with the enemy.”
Lara laughed as Anna protested and fussed all the rest of them out of the room.
DURST TRIED NOT TO SHOW HIS WEAKNESS AS HE took his seat at the morning table. Mornings were the worst; it took time for his body to rouse for the day.
Lanfer paced nearby, anger barely held in check.
Durst sighed within, and for a moment thought of his lands and his home. If they left now, in four days they’d be within sight of his own small keep. There would be peace there, and Xylara would probably allow him to live out his life there in seclusion and privacy. But even as the thought formed, the vision of Degnan’s head and body being carried by the guards—his wife’s keening voice raised at the sight—flashed before his eyes. His rage returned so hot and hard he choked on his drink.
Damn the Firelanders to the deepest hells.
His resolve strengthened. His land needed him to prevent what was about to ha
ppen. Xy must be kept pure and the Firelanders slaughtered or driven from the land.
His wife’s gentle hand came into view, placing warm bread and oats before him.
Lanfer had the courtesy to wait until Durst had swallowed his spoonful of oats before speaking. “If we wait, Warren will return, and that will be even more blades against us.”
“Many of the lords are waiting to see what happens,” Durst said mildly. “If Lara rules against the marriage, then they will join our cause. Aurora’s father is so angry, he may take up a sword himself.”
“It’s risky,” Lanfer growled.
“It’s prudent,” Durst growled back. “We will wait. Now, if you don’t mind, I wish to eat before I go to the throne room.”
“They will start any minute,” Lanfer warned.
“Xylara will arrive, and they will start the proceedings,” Durst corrected him. “And if Lord Korvis starts to espouse about the interruption of his son’s marriage, it will be a good while before anyone else is heard.” Durst took up his cup. “There’s time.”
His gaze fell on his wife, standing at the side table, slicing bread with a steady hand. She caught his eye, and they exchanged a long, steady look.
“Plenty of time.” Durst smiled.
CHAPTER 23
“COME FORTH! COME FORTH!” HEATH COULD HEAR the Herald’s voice even through the walls of the antechamber. “Come forth, all that would petition and submit to the Queen’s Justice!”
“They’re already in there,” Atira said, standing by the door. “Why does he bellow?”
“Tradition, more than anything else,” Lara said.
“And to remind the people of the Queen’s absolute authority,” Othur said firmly. He adjusted the sash of the Sword of Xy over his chest.
“Prest and Rafe are already beside the throne,” Heath said. “And I’ve put castle guards along the walls. Atira and I will stand with you, and there are guards outside the doors as well.”
“I will be the brooding presence beside the throne.” Keir offered his arm to Lara.
“You do that so well, beloved.” Lara took his arm. “Then let us be about this.”
Atira opened the door.
The Herald pounded his staff of office on the floor three times. “Lord and ladies, all hail Keir, Warlord of the Plains, Overlord of Xy, and Xylara, Queen of Xy, and Warprize.”
Heath’s gaze swept the room as everyone knelt at Lara’s and Keir’s approach. There was no sign of trouble, but the fact that many bore swords in the Queen’s presence was a concern.
The Herald had done his work well. The Xyian families had all been herded onto the left side of the throne room, and the right had been kept empty for the Plains warriors who would appear and answer to Korvis’s demands. Between the two areas were two groups of clerks and between them the aisle for the Queen.
Heath looked over at the old Herald and nodded his head in respect.
Kendrick’s face never changed, but there was a definite glint of acknowledgment in his eye.
Lara reached the throne and sat with Keir’s help. Anna had seen to it that there was a thick pad on the marble seat. The participants rose to their feet as she settled down.
“Good morning to all.” Lara sat straight, looking regal and calm. “We will limit the petitions heard within this Justice to the one that was interrupted by the illness of my warden. All others must wait upon a future date. But my warden has our authority to act during our absence, and we trust in his wisdom and impartiality. Apply to him if your claims cannot wait.”
Heath had to chuckle softly. Lara was doing it again; either using the royal we or referring to herself and Keir. Either way, it kept the nobles confused as to how to respond.
Keir stood next to Lara, feet apart, arms crossed, his expression just this side of grim.
There were murmurs among the observers. Heath was fairly certain that some had planned to press their claims this morning. He ran his eye over the crowd, and sure enough, Lord Durst was toward the back, Lanfer not far from his side. Like damn vultures hovering over a dying wolf.
Still, Heath hoped Lara knew what she was doing. It wouldn’t take much to get the nobles riled up enough to take their swords out, and the warriors of the Plains would not stand by without pulling their own blades.
“Herald, summon the first petitioner,” Lara commanded.
The Herald bowed and struck his staff three times. “Lord Korvis, approach and make thy petition.”
An older man, thin of body and face, stepped forward and bowed to the Queen. “Your Majesty, I petition for your justice. I turn to you to right a wrong done to me and mine by an individual under your protection. Nay, under the very roof of this castle.”
“Lord Korvis, I will hear your petition.” Lara gestured for him to rise. “It concerns the wedding of your son, Careth?”
“It does, Your Majesty.” Korvis’s voice was harsh, his anger clear to everyone. Heath frowned. His father had said that at the time, Korvis had been almost trembling with rage, so much so that he had trouble getting his words out.
Korvis continued. “My son and heir, Careth.”
A lad stepped forward to stand at his father’s side, a sullen look on his pimply face. He had his skinny arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders hunched. He was the very portrait of sullen childishness, and Heath suppressed a grin. He remembered that feeling all too well.
“Careth was to marry Aurora, the daughter of Craftmaster Bedell.” Korvis gestured, and another man stepped forward. A working man, that one—stout of limb, he wore the sash of a guild master and was looking about nervously. No warrior there.
“The wedding procession was nearing the church when a group of Firelander women waving swords and screaming war cries burst into the procession, seized Aurora, and made off with her. We pursued, but were unable to rescue Aurora before they took refuge within the castle.”
Oh, and clearly that grated. Heath could not resist looking over at Atira and raising an eyebrow.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
“We demand that she be returned to us,” Korvis continued, lifting his chin. “So that the ceremony can go forward.”
“Well and good, Lord Korvis,” Lara said firmly. “But it is not for the petitioner to dictate terms. What you receive at our hands will be justice, as we deem it so.”
Korvis flushed at her admonishment, but did not look away. “As you decree, Your Majesty.”
“Herald, summon the offenders to our presence,” Lara commanded.
The Herald strode to the door with his stately pace. As he approached, the guards within opened the double doors wide.
Again, the Herald’s staff rang against the floor three times. “Elois of the Horse,” the Herald announced. “You are summoned to the Queen’s Justice.”
Elois appeared with three other women of the Plains behind her. She strode forward, and at her side trotted Aurora. Heath hadn’t seen the girl before. She was a lanky thing, all legs and knees and elbows. Her lips were pressed tightly together, but Heath saw the fear in her wide, brown eyes. They walked right up to the throne.
“Elois of the Horse,” Lara said in greeting. “We have summoned you to answer the claims of Lord Korvis.”
“Warprize.” Elois went to one knee, as did the other warriors. “Warlord.” Aurora knelt with the group, following their example, and rose when they rose.
“Gladly will I answer,” Elois said, her head held high. “We chanced upon a procession, Warprize, as we were returning from checking the herds. They were walking to the church, except this little one, who was struggling with that one.” Elois pointed at Bedell. “Aurora was arguing with the man, saying that she did not wish to marry that stripling over there. But the man gripped her shoulder and demanded that she obey him.”
Bedell’s face grew red, and he opened his mouth as if to argue, then thought better of it.
Elois shrugged. “When Aurora saw us standing by, she broke away and wrapped her arms aroun
d my legs, crying, begging for help. When I understood that the Xyians were forcing a bond upon her, I hied her off in order to protect her.”
“Were swords drawn?” Keir rumbled in the language of the Plains.
“They were,” Elois acknowledged in the same language. “But not ours, Warlord.” She flicked her glance over to Korvis and his son, then gave Keir an apologetic look. “They are not very good with them, Warlord.”
A ripple of laughter, then, among the Plains warriors, but Lara held up a hand before any Xyian could protest. “The Overlord inquires as to the use of force. Lord Korvis, was blood spilled in this incident?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Lord Korvis clearly wished there had been by the look he gave Elois. “These warriors must be punished for—”
“No.” Lara cut him off. “No one in this kingdom need fear being punished for trying to aid a child.”
Lord Korvis pressed his lips tight.
“Aurora?” Lara turned to the group of Plains warriors.
The girl stepped out from between the women and stared at the Queen with wide eyes. She remembered her manners and dropped into a clumsy curtsey.
“Aurora, what say you?” Lara asked.
Aurora drew herself up. “I don’t want to marry him, Warprize. I want to ride and hunt and play with my dogs, but Mama says I can’t. I have to be a lady.” Aurora screwed her face up. “And Careth is mean, and I don’t like him.”
That stirred Careth, who glared at the little girl. “Brat,” he said.
“Pock-face.” She glared right back.
“Aurora,” her father stepped forward, his hand spread as if in apology. “It’s a good marriage, Aurora. With Lord Korvis’s aid, our trade will grow and prosper. And you will be a noble lady, with a fine house and servants to care for you.” He drew himself up. “It is an excellent marriage, Aurora.”
“But I’d have to live with him,” Aurora wailed. “I want to stay with you and Mama.” The tears were coming now, and Aurora sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve.
Elois reached down and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “This one is not ready to leave the thea’s tent,” Elois said, giving Bedell a steady look.