Blackveil

  She had worked with him long enough to know he was no fool—far from it—and that he was well-versed in history. As much as he’d deny it, he’d see the parallels with the past—not only Laren telling truths he did not wish exposed, but how Warhein’s loyal Riders had rallied to him, had gone into exile with him, despite the threat of royal reprisal. Colin and his conspirators would have deduced that Laren’s Riders would do the same for her. Censuring her by any harsher means than suspension of duty would incur the wrath of her Riders, and the conspirators could not afford to lose them; they could not function without them.

  Still, Laren reflected, it didn’t mean the conspirators wouldn’t hesitate to do what was necessary and expedient to silence her if she made too much trouble.

  Despite the potential for danger to herself, she could not repress a smile, and the line between Colin’s brows deepened in response.

  “Gwyer Warhein is considered a hero today,” she murmured as if to herself. Not only had he resisted a tyrant by telling the truth, but when old, unlamented Agates died without an heir and the realm plunged into the Clan Wars, Warhein and his Riders had helped Smidhe Hillander attain victory, bringing Zachary’s line to the throne, and initiating two centuries of peace and unification. Colin would know all this, too. He could not act without considering the weight of history.

  Laren squared her shoulders and straightened her back, proud as ever of her Rider heritage and the brooch she wore. “Gwyer Warhein supported Clan Hillander,” she said. “And so have I. Always. And so will I continue to do.”

  “So be it,” Colin replied. “Best not to keep the queen waiting.” He led the way to the bedchamber door and opened it for her, but blocked Elgin from entering.

  “It’s all right,” she told her old friend, and she stepped into the room to face her new queen.

  DECISIONS

  Sunlight flowed into the room as Laren remembered it from the last time she’d been here. Estora stood there conferring with a mender. The light turned her skin to pale marble and her mourning clothes gray. Laren blinked as though confronted with a lifelike statue. Then Estora turned to her. Gems dazzled on the fillet crown she wore. Laren had last seen it upon the brow of Queen Isen as she lay in state at her funeral.

  Estora dismissed the mender and approached. Laren dropped to her knee and bowed her head.

  “Rise, Captain,” Estora said.

  Laren did so and the two faced one another with steady gazes. Laren had to tilt her head to gaze in the eyes of the taller woman. There were shadows beneath Estora’s eyes. So much she’d had to contend with—the murder of her father, the injury to her betrothed, the hasty marriage and coronation.

  A low moan came from the bed. Laren licked her lips, wishing to rush to Zachary’s side, but so unsure of this new Estora she did not dare move or say anything.

  “He has not changed much,” Estora said. “Still burning up and . . . and delirious. The menders have given him something to keep him easy. Please, please do go to see him.”

  Laren nodded and did just that. She found him pale, sweat runneling on his skin. His bandage was fresh and she smelled no odor of a festering wound. She brushed damp hair from his brow. His hand clenched and unclenched as though gripping a sword and he emitted a sound like a growl.

  “He’s been like this,” Estora said, “forever. It feels like forever.”

  Laren glanced sidelong at the woman who was now Zachary’s wife and saw genuine concern and fear. She had always liked Estora, thought her the best possible match for Zachary. Recent events did not change her assessment at all.

  “He’s fighting,” Laren said. “It’s what he does. Fight.”

  A sob escaped Estora’s composed facade, and then another, until it was a shuddering torrent. Instinctively Laren drew the young queen into her arms, spoke soft words, soothing nonsense words as she had when Melry fell and twisted her ankle, as she had for Zachary when he was little and his brother bullied him, and then again as a young man when his grandmother died. She rubbed Estora’s back and comforted her until the sobs subsided and Estora pulled away, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Oh, my lady,” Laren said, “you’ve been through too much in so short a time.”

  “But I cannot break down like this anymore.”

  “A crown does not make you immune to emotion,” Laren said, “nor should it. It made Isen and Zachary the compassionate monarchs they were. Zachary still is.”

  Estora sniffed. “My mother and sisters left with my father’s body today. They are taking him home to Coutre. And ... and of course my sister must be readied to assume my father’s place. I’ve ... I’ve had no one. No one but him.” She glanced at Zachary.

  Laren could not imagine the terrible loneliness. “I am at your service,” Laren said, “if you wish it, Your Highness.” It felt strange to address anyone other than Zachary so.

  “I appreciate that,” Estora said, her tears now well gone, and her tone different. “But I heard you did not support my marriage.”

  Laren’s spirits sank. So here it was. “I supported your marriage as contracted. However, when situations such as this arise, there are protocols in place, established two hundred years ago, that we are supposed to follow, no matter how much sense an alternative makes. It does not mean I’m not willing to swear my fealty to you now, as my queen.” Laren went to her knee again.

  Estora tilted her chin up, shadows shifting across her face like a veil. “I am not certain,” she said from above.

  Elgin stood a few paces in front of Colin Dovekey glaring at him with arms folded. He remembered the man from when he was just another Weapon guarding Queen Isen. Colin was a bit grayer now, but still solid and fit.

  The counselor remained seated and did not pay any attention to Elgin. Instead he looked over some papers, rustling them back and forth.

  Elgin did not know exactly what game was afoot, but he knew that where it concerned the royals, the stakes were high, a real life game of Intrigue. Red had gotten snared in it and he didn’t like it, not at all. They hadn’t listened to her. They hadn’t liked what she said, so they knocked her out and now threatened to relieve her of duty. They could do far worse if they chose to, he knew, if she pushed them too hard.

  Colin set his papers aside and looked up at Elgin, his expression neutral as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Elgin Foxsmith, isn’t it?” he asked. “Former Chief Rider?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s been many years, but I recognize you. Had some action in the battles with the Darrow Raiders, didn’t you?”

  “Most Green Riders did back then,” Elgin said, his tone darkening. “Including Laren Mapstone. But you wouldn’t have seen any kind of action, would you, safe and sound here in the castle.”

  “My duty was to guard Queen Isen. She resided here.” Colin’s tone was not at all defensive. He folded his hands together atop his lap. “I want you to know I have nothing but the utmost respect for Captain Mapstone. She’s been the king’s most trusted friend and advisor for many years. And my friend as well.”

  Elgin snorted. “So that’s how you treat your friends, eh? Then I pity your enemies.”

  “I realize it appears harsh, but this is an extraordinary and precarious time. Right now the queen must have at her side only those she can trust the most.”

  “Laren Mapstone is the most honorable person I know,” Elgin said.

  “I do not dispute her honor. It is, however, what has put her in her current position.”

  “Taken that way, it means you are admitting you are not honorable.”

  There was a slight downturn of the edges of Colin’s mouth, but he did not show any anger. “Whatever the outcome, what we have done is in the best interests of the realm, and in Laren’s, believe it or not.”

  “You just don’t know her, do you? No matter you call her a friend, you don’t know her. You Weapons, you have no idea about anyt
hing. If the king wakes up, I warrant there’ll be a reckoning. He loves her, he does. Laren.”

  Colin’s eyes grew unfocussed as he gazed across the room. “I imagine there will be a reckoning,” he said as if to himself. “I imagine there will be.”

  Elgin had expected at least some anger from the man, and even wished it, but he sensed sadness instead. These Weapons, they were unnatural, it seemed to him. Almost inhuman and secretive in their ways.

  The door to the bedchamber opened and Laren and Lady Estora—now Queen Estora—stepped out. Colin rose and bowed. Elgin followed suit. He’d never been so close to the king’s betrothed. She was striking from a distance. Close up her beauty practically hurt his eyes. Humbled by her presence, Elgin could only gaze at the floor.

  “Counselor Dovekey,” the queen said, “I wish to relieve Laren Mapstone of duty immediately. Lieutenant Connly will assume her responsibilities at once.”

  “No,” Elgin whispered.

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “And confine her to quarters,” the queen added.

  “No!” Elgin wailed. He started toward her, but suddenly a pair of swords wielded by the black-gloved hands of Weapons were pointed at his chest.

  “Chief,” Laren said, “peace, my friend. You cannot help the Riders if you are imprisoned. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Tell the Riders not to worry.”

  He watched in astonishment as another pair of Weapons took her arms and led her from the room. The queen receded into the bedchamber.

  Elgin pointed an accusing finger at Colin. “I won’t forget this, Weapon. None of the Riders will. Even if the king dies. Especially if the king dies.”

  TALES OF THE SEA KINGS

  Estora sank into the chair beside Zachary’s bed.

  “I hope you understand,” she said.

  He lay peacefully, unresponsive as always to her words and presence.

  Her decision about Captain Mapstone today was one of several she’d already had to make since the coronation. The ceremony had been a quick, muted affair, attended by any dignitary on castle grounds who could be found. Her mother and sisters remained long enough to witness the ceremony and then departed with the corpse of her father.

  In a way, the coronation had been like her wedding, only she was not marrying just one man, but a realm. She was given not a ring, but a crown. Her fingers went to the fillet on her head. It didn’t fit exactly right, and Colin said it would be no problem for it to be adjusted by the royal jeweler.

  She knew more decisions awaited her attention, some where life and death lay in the balance, others less important. For now she delegated those that she could. Cummings, she was certain, was quite capable of organizing the coronation dinner on her behalf. The rest, Colin was holding in reserve for her for now, giving her time to adjust to her new role and the shock of her father’s sudden death.

  “You have no idea,” she whispered to Zachary.

  She took the cloth soaking in the bowl of cool water, wrung it out, and gently dabbed the sweat on his face. All at once his eyes fluttered open and he grabbed her wrist. She stifled a cry. Even ill as he was, his grip was crushingly strong.

  “I would have begged her not to go,” he said, eyes fever bright. Then he released her wrist, mumbled something more and fell back into his troubled sleep.

  “Zachary?” she called. “Zachary?” But he did not respond.

  She sat back wondering if he spoke out of memory or dream, or if he had incorporated something of her conversation with Captain Mapstone into his subconscious.

  Her wrist still bore the pressure marks of his grip. She flexed her hand and reached for the book on his bedside table. Sometimes she spoke to him as Master Destarion recommended, telling him of all that had come to pass, and of her sorrow, and of her hopes that they would embark on a very bright future together when he got well, ruling the realm in concert and in peace, and raising children who were healthy and happy. They were all the things any new bride would wish for, although few brides had to worry about ruling anything beyond their own households.

  Estora had felt awkward speaking to him while menders were in attendance, so she’d taken to reading to Zachary instead, and even when they were alone, as now, she found she enjoyed the reading as an escape from all the turmoil around her. She hoped her voice touched Zachary somewhere inside and comforted him. Master Fogg, the castle librarian, had located for her at her request a volume titled Tales of the Sea Kings.

  She’d already read to him the tale of Marin the Gardener, who, it was said, was an enchantress who lived in the Northern Sea archipelago and rejoiced in the growth of natural things. Her garden was an entire island: its woods, meadow, and shore, and all the creatures that inhabited it with her.

  Most of the tales of the sea kings centered around the Northern Sea and its islands, and the next one she opened up to was a favorite among seamen, that of Yolandhe, the seductress who guided King Akarion to her shore and kept him there. When the enchantment lifted, Akarion remained with her out of love, but Yolandhe was immortal, and Akarion mortal. The tale always ended on a bittersweet note.

  Despite Yolandhe’s trickery, Estora always sympathized with her loneliness. Though, if she wished to apply logic to the tales, there were apparently enchantresses on just about every island and sailors constantly landing onshore to become ensnared in one spell or another.

  “This is the tale of Yolandhe and King Akarion,” Estora read to Zachary, “and how the king claimed Yolandhe’s love for himself.” Many versions of the tale carried a heavy moral message about how Akarion tamed Yolandhe’s wicked ways. It would be interesting to see if this interpretation fell into the same trap.

  It did not, but focused on Yolandhe’s seduction of the king and the nearly constant lovemaking that ensued for years after.

  “Don’t they ever stop to sleep or eat?” Estora asked, growing warmer with each word to the point she had to fan herself with the book. “Who wrote this?” When she checked, the author was listed as “Anonymous.”

  She thanked the gods no one heard or saw her reading it, that even the Weapons granted her privacy by posting themselves outside when she was with Zachary. He remained quiet and unconscious. Roused as she was by the story of Yolandhe and Akarion, she ached for him to awaken, to draw her into his arms, to make love to her.

  Had Zachary not lain injured the night of their wedding, they’d have already joined in the rite of consummation, an event of ancient origins attended by witnesses to ensure the new royal couple commenced the task of creating heirs. Her marriage was already legally bound, but there were those who adhered to the old ways and would not recognize it until the rite took place, and those couples that refused lost title and were shunned. Sometimes tradition held more sway than law.

  She hoped, given the circumstances, the need for the rite would be overlooked and that she and Zachary could join naturally without an audience watching on, but with her cousin Richmont constantly mentioning the rite, it seemed unlikely. He just wanted to ensure, she knew, that her place as queen was unquestionably secured among all influential parties, including the traditionalists, which of course guaranteed his own place in the royal court.

  She shuddered at the thought of having to perform the act before people known and unknown to her. She resumed her reading, pushing the rite of consummation to the back of her mind, enjoying the escape as much as hoping her voice reached Zachary through his illness and reassured him he was not alone.

  Later in Zachary’s dressing room, which was rapidly becoming Estora’s place of business, Cummings helped her to go through the volumes of well wishes and condolences that continued to flow into the castle. He told her they would hold off on a coronation dinner until several lord-governors could be in attendance. It would be, of course, a sticky situation. The lord-governors could very well challenge the manner of her marriage and hasty coronation, but she hoped Colin’s handling of the whole situation forestalled such conflict. It had certainly made the confinement
of Captain Mapstone all the more imperative.

  The messages Colin sent out with the Green Riders told of Zachary’s desire to move up the wedding out of his regard for his betrothed, and because an “accident while riding” made him reconsider the gravity of a smooth transition should any serious harm come to him. The rumors rife in the city and beyond had already muddled the details of the incident so much that the lord-governors would have an impossible time rooting out the truth. Meanwhile, Colin and his aides had begun to circulate additional rumors with a modified version of what had happened on Sacor City’s streets that afternoon. The king’s high-strung stallion had spooked. The king fell and was injured. He was under the care of the castle’s finest menders and in good enough form to marry.

  Word was that there would be official celebrations when the king was up and about and the lord-governors in attendance, but there were already accounts of the city’s populace celebrating in the streets, and the joy would only spread as word moved across the country.

  The lord-governors still might challenge the marriage and coronation, but the mood of the realm would be against them like the surge of an incoming storm tide.

  A knock came upon the door and Estora nodded for Cummings to answer it. There were murmurings with whoever sought entrance, but she did not glance up from her papers until Cummings stepped aside and three persons approached: Colin, General Harborough, and Lieutenant Connly of the Green Riders. They bowed to her.

  “What is it?” she asked, praying it was not a crisis so early in her queenhood, as if the attack on her betrothed and death of her father were not enough.