The Heart of Betrayal

  “Did you sing the name to my mother?”

  She nodded.

  “You sang it to the wrong person. I’m not—”

  “It is a way of trust, Jezelia. Do you trust the voice within you?”

  It was as if she could read my thoughts. Why me?

  She smiled. “It had to be someone. Why not you?”

  “For a hundred good reasons. A thousand.”

  “The rules of reason build towers that reach past the treetops. The rules of trust build towers that reach past the stars.”

  I looked around, wondering if anyone else was listening. Every eye in the Sanctum was riveted on me, glazed with an awe bordering on fear—even Rafe’s eyes. I turned back to Venda, but she was gone.

  Me and frightening madness. That was all they witnessed, and I questioned my own sanity. I saw several soldiers pull amulets from beneath their shirts and rub them. It had to be someone. I leaned against the table for support, and Rafe stepped toward me, forgetting himself. I quickly composed myself, standing rigid.

  A servant girl shuffled forward timidly. “What did you see, Princess?”

  Three chievdars stood just behind her, glaring at the girl for acknowledging any power I held that they did not. Without the clans here, they didn’t need to pretend. I phrased my words carefully, for fear the girl would suffer for her earnest question. “I saw only the stars of the universe, and they shined upon all of you.”

  My vague answer seemed to appease the naysayers and believers both, and they went back to their quiet conversations, still awaiting the appearance of the Komizar.

  Rafe’s eyes remained on me, and I saw the worry in them. Look away, I prayed, because I couldn’t tear my own gaze free, but then I glanced at his hands, the ones that had gently cradled my face. It would be unfortunate if he began losing fingers prematurely. Convince them.

  With everyone watching, I had a large audience to convince. I looked away just as the Komizar entered the hall. “Where’s my betrothed?” he called, though I was plainly in his sight. A servant rushed to fill his hand with a mug, and both Rahtan and governors stepped aside as he walked toward me. “There she is,” he said, as if his eyes had just landed me. I saw the small cut on his neck, and no doubt everyone else did too. “Don’t be concerned, my love,” he said. “Only a nick from shaving. I was perhaps a little too earnest in my desire to be presentable to you.” His eyes danced with warning even as he smiled at me. Say something, was the command I saw in them. Say just the right thing.

  “No need to risk your flesh. You’re always presentable to me, sher Komizar.”

  “My sweet little bird,” he said and reached out, placing his hand behind my head, drawing me toward him. He whispered against my lips, “Make this good.”

  Who was he trying to fool? The Council already knew the marriage was a sham and I was only a tool for his gain, but then I realized it was for another purpose. He wanted to show he was not thrown by the Assassin’s attack and that he still had a firm grip on power.

  Kissing him when it served me was one thing, but when it served him, it was quite another. I braced myself as his lips met mine, surprised that he was gentle, tender even, but perfunctory on every level. It was an accomplished performance, but then at the last moment, his hand curled into my hair and his lips pressed harder, passionately. I heard the crude laughter around us and felt the color rise at my temples. He finally let go of me, and instead of cold calculation, I saw unsettled desire spark in his eyes. It was the last thing I wanted to see there. I willed the color from my face.

  He turned away as if exhilarated and bellowed, “Where’s the food!”

  Servants scurried, and we took our seats, but the conspicuous absence of the Assassin hung in the room like a poisonous cloud and kept the normal banter in check. I said the blessing, but before I passed the plate of bones, I took one to keep my hands and eyes occupied, even though my tether already jingled heavy with their weight.

  It was a small bone, bleached and dried in the sun as they all were after the cooks buried them in a barrel of meal with beetles so that every scrap of flesh and marrow was eaten away. The larvae of the beetles were used for fishing on a river inlet, which in turn yielded more bones. It was an endless cycle of sacrifice upon sacrifice. I fiddled with the bone, wishing I could wipe away the taste of the Komizar from my lips. I was afraid to look up and meet Rafe’s gaze, because I knew what I would see, the strain spreading like a feverish stain across his face. If I had to watch him day after day kissing a maid or being pulled into her embrace, I would truly go mad.

  “You’re not eating, Princess,” the Komizar said.

  I reached out and took a slice of turnip and nibbled it to appease him.

  “Eat up,” he insisted. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. I wouldn’t want you to grow faint.”

  Every day was a big day for the Komizar. No doubt for me it meant more parading through the city or countryside. Curiously, there was only one quarter he hadn’t taken me to—the Tomack quarter in the southernmost part of the city.

  The sudden tramping of footsteps echoed through the hall, and much to the Komizar’s dismay, the meal paused—no one wanted to miss the entrance of the Assassin, and all were eager to see if he bore the evidence of a brawl. Everyone present quickly took note that there were multiple footsteps coming toward us. Their hands went from plates to the weapons sheathed at their sides. Protected by the impassable Great River, they surely didn’t fear the enemy without, so they must always be ready for the enemy within. Bloodbaths, as Kaden called them.

  Kaden entered from the eastern passageway. Everyone saw what they wanted to see, the evidence of a brawl, if not a challenge. A blue bruise darkened his jaw, and his hand was wrapped in a bandage, but he had no weapon drawn, and they eased back in their seats. It appeared the Komizar had fared better than his Assassin. The odious new governor and his personal guard walked beside Kaden. There was muffled laughter from the end of the table where Malich sat with his smug circle of Rahtan. Kaden made a determined straight shot to the Komizar. “The new governor of Arleston, as you requested,” he said, as if depositing a box of cargo at the Komizar’s feet. He turned briskly to the governor. “Governor Obraun, this is your sovereign. Bend your knee and pledge your allegiance now.”

  The governor did as he was told, and before the Komizar could respond, Kaden stepped over between us and leaned with one arm against the table. He seethed fury, and though he whispered, it was still loud enough that those seated near us could hear him. “And you, royal, will sleep in my quarters tonight,” he hissed. “The Komizar said there’s no reason you will not serve us both—and after my long journey, I wish to be served. Do you understand?”

  I said nothing, but fire raced across my cheeks. I hadn’t seen him this angry since the night he flung me into the carvachi for attacking Malich. No, tonight he was far more enraged. I had betrayed him personally. I represented every noble of Morrighan meeting all his low expectations, but now, with a few words, he had met mine too. I did not take those kinds of orders from anyone.

  I looked at the Komizar and he nodded, indicating he approved this shared arrangement. His eyes smoldered with satisfaction, pleased with his Assassin’s rage directed at me. Kaden pushed away from the table and found an empty seat in the middle across from Rafe. The tension that always sparked between them magnified, their hot gazes fixed on each other for far too long. Rafe couldn’t have heard what Kaden said to me, but maybe my flushed face was all he needed to see. Chairs were slid aside so the new governor and his guard could sit near his sovereign.

  The Komizar and governor seemed to connect immediately, but for me their conversation became a blur of sound, disconnected words, laughter, and the clinking of mugs. I watched the governor’s lips move, but Kaden’s words were what I heard. And you, royal, will sleep in my quarters.

  “And now you’ll marry enemy swine?” My gaze darted to the governor’s arrogant beady eyes.

  I stood and sei
zed a fistful of his jacket, jerking his face close to mine. “If you say ‘enemy swine’ one more time, I will tear the flesh from your face with my bare hands and feed it to the hogs in the stable yard! Do you understand me, Governor?”

  The Komizar grabbed my arm and yanked me back to my seat.

  Both the governor and his wide-eyed guard looked at me in startled amazement.

  “Apologize, Princess,” the Komizar ordered. “The governor is a new loyal member of the Council and has had little time to adjust to the idea of the enemy walking on Vendan soil.”

  I glared at him. If my supposed newfound freedoms were to be of any use to me at all, I would have to chip away and snatch them a small piece at a time. “He calls your betrothed swine!” I argued.

  “It’s a common phrase we use for the enemy. Apologize.” His fingers dug into my thigh beneath the table.

  I looked back at the governor. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Eminence. I would not truly feed your face to the hogs. It might make them sick.”

  There was audible sucking of breath, and time seemed to stop, as if these were to be my last seconds on earth, as if I had at last pushed too far. The silence stretched thin and taut, but then, midway down the table, Griz snorted. His boisterous laugh cut through the shocked hush, then Eben and Governor Faiwell joined in with laughter too, and soon the prevailing doom of the moment was washed away by at least half of those at the table joining in at my “jest.”

  Governor Obraun, as if he sensed he was caught in the middle of a swift, unexpected squall, laughed too, assuming the insult to be a joke. I smiled to assuage the Komizar, though inside I still raged.

  For the rest of the meal, the governor made an exaggerated point to call me the Komizar’s betrothed, which drew more laughter. His guard remained quiet, and I learned he was mute—an odd choice for a guard who might need to sound an alarm—but perhaps he was deaf as well and was the only one able to endure the governor’s ceaseless prattle.

  My toes clenched and unclenched inside my boots, and the fires on either end of the hall seemed to burn too hot. Everything inside me itched. Maybe it was knowing that somewhere in this city Jeb and his fellow soldiers were working to find a way out for all of us. Four. It was a number I had scoffed at, but now it seemed like the precious split-second chance I had taken in the face of a stampeding herd of bison. Risky but worth it.

  I thought the evening couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong. As they began clearing the platters and I was hoping to leave, a parade of barrow runners began pushing carts into the room.

  “Here at last,” the Komizar said as if he knew they were coming. I saw Aster among the runners, struggling with a cart loaded with armor, weapons, and other booty. My stomach dropped. Another patrol had been massacred.

  “Their loss, our gain,” the Komizar said cheerfully.

  The small bit of turnip I had swallowed seemed stuck in my chest. It took a moment for me to truly focus on the contents, but when I did, I saw the blue and black colors of Dalbreck emblazoned on shields and banners—and the lion—whose claw I bore on my back. The haul was almost as great as the one from my brother’s company, and even though these weren’t my countrymen, I felt my grief anew. Around me, greed glowed in the chievdars’ and governors’ faces. Even this action by the Komizar was not just about booty, but again about fervor. Another kind. Like the scent of blood given to a pack of dogs.

  As the last barrow runners set down their goods, Rafe’s chair screeched back and toppled behind him as he stood. The sudden crash turned every head toward him. He walked over to a cart, his chest heaving, looking at the contents. He pulled a long sword from a pile, and the sound of steel rang in the air.

  The Komizar slowly stood. “You have something you wish to say, Emissary?”

  Rafe’s eyes blazed, their blue ice cutting through the Komizar. “These are my countrymen you’ve slaughtered,” he said, his tone as frigid as his gaze. “You have an agreement with the prince.”

  “On the contrary, Emissary. I may or may not have an agreement with your prince. Your claim hasn’t yet proven true. On the other hand, I definitely do not have an agreement with your king. He’s still my enemy, and he’s the one sending patrols out to attack my soldiers. At the moment, everything is still status quo between us, including your very tenuous position.” He held a hand out toward a guard, and the guard threw the Komizar a sword.

  He looked back at Rafe, casually testing the sword in his grip. “But maybe you’re only wishing for some sport? It’s been a long time since we have had any entertainment within these walls.” He took a step toward Rafe. “I wonder just how good a swordsman a court emissary might be.”

  Snickers rolled through the room.

  Oh, by the gods, no. Put the sword down, Rafe. Put it down now.

  “Not very good,” Rafe answered, but he didn’t put the sword down. Instead he tested the grip in his hand with as much threat as the Komizar.

  “In that case, I’ll pass you on to my Assassin. He seems eager for sport as well, and not as accomplished as I am with this particular weapon.” He tossed the sword to Kaden, and with lightning reflexes, Kaden stood and caught it. He was more than accomplished.

  “First blood,” the Komizar said.

  I found myself out of my seat, moving toward them, but then was caught in the iron grip of Governor Obraun. “Sit down, girl,” he hissed, and he shoved me back into my seat.

  Kaden stepped toward Rafe, and all the young barrow runners scrambled to the outer reaches of the hall. Rafe glanced at me, and I knew he saw the pleading in my eyes—put it down—but he wrapped both hands securely around the grip and stepped forward anyway, meeting Kaden in the middle of the room.

  The long-repressed animosity between them was thick in the air. My mouth went dry. Kaden raised his sword with both hands, a moment’s pause as each assessed the other, and then the fight was on. The fierce clang of steel on steel reverberated through the hall, blow after blow. It seemed nothing like a match intended to draw only a drop of blood.

  Rafe’s swings were powerful, deadly, more like a relentless battering ram. Kaden met the blows, but after a few strikes began to lose ground. He deftly sidestepped, whirled, and swung, nearly slicing Rafe in the ribs, but Rafe expertly blocked the blade with amazing speed and threw Kaden back. I could feel the fury flying off Rafe like fiery sparks. He swung, and the tip of his sword caught Kaden’s shirt, ripping it open on one side, but no blood. Kaden advanced again, fast and furious, and their clanging blows chattered through my teeth.

  The onlookers were no longer quiet. The dull roar of their commentary accompanied each ringing assault, but the governor suddenly shouted out above them all, “Watch your step, emissary swine!” and then laughed.

  “Shut up!” I yelled, afraid it would distract Rafe, and then he did seem to falter, his blows not coming as fast or as strong, until at last Kaden backed him up to a wall, and fumbling under a series of strikes, Rafe lost hold of his sword, and it clattered to the floor. Kaden pressed the tip of his sword just under Rafe’s chin. Both of their chests heaved with exertion, and their gazes were locked. I was afraid to say anything, for fear my voice alone would cause Kaden to plunge the sword into Rafe’s throat.

  “First blood. Farmer,” Kaden said, and he swiped his sword downward, nicking Rafe’s shoulder. A bright red stain spread across Rafe’s shirt, and Kaden walked away.

  There were shouts of victory among Kaden’s comrades, and the Komizar congratulated them both for an entertaining match. “Strong start, Emissary. Weak finish. But don’t feel too bad. It’s what I’d expect of court puffery. Most of your worries and battles are momentary and don’t require Vendan endurance.”

  I fell back against my chair. My brow was damp, and my shoulders ached. I saw the governor and his guard studying me, no doubt thinking I had been rooting for my fellow swine. I glared at them both. The Komizar told Calantha to see to the cut on Rafe’s shoulder, not wishing his emissary to die of blood poisoning just y
et, and he lifted a mug to Kaden. I saw a smug, knowing glance pass between them. Whatever quarrel had recently passed, it was now mended. I would serve them both.

  In hell I would.

  A practice sword could bash his skull in as easily as a steel one. This time I wouldn’t be aiming for his shin. I stood and left, my assigned escorts trailing on my heels.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  KADEN

  I saw her leave. The evening between us was far from over. I tried to follow, but everyone wanted to gloat with me about my easy victory over the emissary.

  Easy.

  The thought made my blood boil all over again.

  By his third swing, I knew I wasn’t fighting an emissary. By his fifth, I knew he wasn’t even an average soldier. By the tenth strike, I knew I was going to lose. But suddenly his attack softened, and he made stupid mistakes. He didn’t lose. He let me win. Preserving his identity as a foppish emissary was more important to him than parting my head from my shoulders—and I knew that was a prize he very much desired.

  I swilled back a last gulp of ale and left Chievdar Dietrik mid-sentence, following after Lia. The corridor echoed with my footsteps. I reached my chamber and threw the door open. She was standing there, ready for me, a practice sword in her hand and battle in her eyes.

  “Put it down!” I ordered.

  She lifted it high in the air, ready to strike. “Get out!”

  I stepped closer and said each word slowly, so there was no mistaking the threat in them. “Put the sword down. Now.”

  Her stance remained defiant. She would kill me before she set it aside. “So I can serve you?” she sneered.

  I wasn’t going to let her off that easy. I was going to let her reel and stew and feel just as shattered as I had been. I took another step, and she swung, barely missing my head. My rage bubbled over, and I lunged at her, catching the wooden blade with my hand as she swung again. We fell to the ground and rolled, grappling for the sword. I finally squeezed her wrist until she cried with pain and dropped it. I tossed it across the room. She lurched to roll away, but I slammed her back down and pinned her.