‘Landen,’ she whispered.
‘Hello, Princess.’ His voice was hoarse and shaking.
‘You.’ She took his face in both her hands, stroking his features, not knowing what she did, barely aware that he was doing the same with her, his hands warm and dry on her skin.
Her hands fell. ‘But— I don’t understand.’
His hands dropped to her shoulders. ‘Sorry about the blow. It was necessary.’
‘Why?’
‘Now the other assassins will think I got there first.’
She looked round. It was night. Was she in a dream?
‘Other assassins? Are you one of them?’
‘No. But we want them to think I am.’
‘Wait.’ She pulled back, to see his face. ‘I’m to be killed?’
‘Yes, Torina, you’re marked for death.’
‘Death? Who sent you?’
‘The high king.’
In a daze, she shook her head. ‘Dahmis sent you to kill me?’
‘No. To give you safe escort out of danger.’
‘The high king knows our history?’ Her mind reeled.
There was moisture in his eyes. ‘No. Torina, I thought you were dead.’
She blinked sadly. ‘And I knew nothing of you.’
He leaned closer. ‘Nothing?’
‘My crystal never showed me your face, all this time. I looked, Landen. I looked every day for—’ Her throat closed over the memory of that long, futile search.
‘Princess, if I . . . Torina, my. . .’ He swallowed. ‘Come, we must keep moving.’
He boosted her into the saddle, and swung on in front of her. ‘Hang on.’
Wrapping her arms round him felt better than anything she’d done in her life. As they rode higher through the night, she laid her head against his back. Tears of peace dampened his shirt.
Landen marvelled to look down and see Torina’s slender fingers interlocked at his waist. They rode into a sheltered, high valley just as dawn broke. It was situated so that it was invisible unless one stumbled upon it or knew where it was.
Fatigue was working on him. Awake for days and nights except for his nap in the forest, he cherished the thought of sleep. The poor, tired horse must feel the same. Landen drew rein with profound relief, helping Torina down.
He’d built himself a rustic hut here in the evergreens, for a refuge in Desante. Now it looked like a palace.
He led the horse to a nearby spring and rubbed his coat. Torina followed, helping care for the stallion. Watching Torina’s quick, knowing movements, Landen wanted to weep with gratitude for her safety. Her life.
Torina bent to the spring and took a long drink. Landen knelt beside her, reviving himself with water. She cried over me last night. What does she feel today?
‘Come inside?’ he said, and she trailed after him.
Makeshift chairs and a bed were the only furnishings. Landen sat on the bed, taking off his boots.
‘Thank you,’ Torina said.
He reached a hand to her. ‘Sit by me?’
She moved beside him.
‘Let me look at you.’ He tugged at her scarf. ‘Dahmis told me to pull this off in order to know you. As soon as he said that, I knew it was you, that you weren’t dead.’
He wondered what the years had done to his face, as he traced the effects on hers. Eyes the same blue-lit green, but where mischievous joy once danced, now he saw sadness, deep as the ocean. Her cheeks were thinner. There was something else too: the arrogant pride of a princess seemed to be gone. Yet, the indefinable, untamed quality of her spirit remained. Yes, it was Torina. Love flowed through his heart with great power.
Large tears fell from her eyes.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s that I’m so ashamed. Can you ever forgive me?’
‘Forgive you, Princess?’
‘Landen, you know I was a fool. I can hardly bring myself to remember how foolish I was. Thoughtless, superior, spoiled!’
He took her hands and kissed them. ‘Please, Torina. If you’re crying for my forgiveness, you don’t have to cry.’
‘Landen, you have the wisest heart in the world. When you lost everything, you made a new beginning. I buried myself so far I may as well have been dead.’
‘From what the high king tells me, that’s not so.’ He gathered her into his arms. Holding her felt wonderfully right. Landen’s body and soul relaxed immeasurably. Sleep took him so fast, he didn’t have time to think about the tense look of guilt that crept into her face when he mentioned the high king.
Chapter Eleven
Beron rode up to Archeld’s castle spattered with mud. He received with disdain the eager help of soldiers on duty. Of course they treated him with respect, he was important to King Vesputo.
People made way for him to go straight to Vesputo. The king rose, giving him a steady hand in welcome. As soon as they were alone, Beron blurted his news.
‘She is certainly dead, my lord.’
‘By your hand?’
‘No, sir. When I arrived at her cabin, she was gone. The people there told me a masked man had knocked her senseless and ridden off with her only an hour before.’
‘Ridden off with her! Did you search where she lived? Did you find the crystal?’
‘I searched, sir. Turned it inside out. She was packed for a move. I went through everything. There wasn’t much there. The crystal was gone.’
Vesputo pounded his desk, swearing. ‘Did you track the rider?’
‘I – no, sir. I spent the time searching her cabin. By then, night had fallen. No one seemed to know which way he’d gone. The farm peasants were scared out of their wits and wanted to know what she’d done and who she was.’
‘You didn’t tell them!’
‘No, sir. Torina’s been dead for years. Now she’s buried.’
‘You travelled as fast as possible?’
‘Yes, sir. I hardly rested.’
‘Odd that someone would get there before you. I thought King Dahmis was the only one who knew where she was.’
‘Perhaps others have hunted her as we have, sir, with more to go on from the high king.’
‘Perhaps. I wonder who has that stone? Not King Dahmis. The fool would never break his word. He pledged not to warn her.’
Vesputo paced, his handsome face controlled and shut. Beron wanted to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes, but thought better of it.
‘Now that she’s dead, my lord—’
‘If she’s really dead, Dahmis has been his own undoing. He was extremely fortunate to fend off the Sliviite attack but he won’t be so lucky this time. He has no one to warn him now.’
Torina scooped water into her hands. The day was clear and fresh as a new flower. Her soul seemed washed. She savoured the purity of her surroundings. Stately pines towered above, reaching for an azure sky. Wild flowers carpeted the ground. She wanted to embrace the world. What ecstatic relief to be herself again, a young woman called Torina, who let her hair out.
Staying with Landen these last few days, she felt transported from a land of bitter hardship to a place of innocence and renewal. They walked, talked and breathed a companionship as fragrant as the pines. Often it seemed they were back at the secret meeting spots of childhood. The easy closeness of former days held them, giving a ground to stand on as they caught up to the present.
He told her of his doings as Bellanes, and how he had travelled to Archeld for King Dahmis, believing her dead. She related her daring escape, and the years spent half-mad with restless loneliness. They discovered that out of five of the high king’s obsidian emblems, they had two between them.
She drank his presence in, like the sparkling water of their spring, unwilling to be sad that they’d both spent so much time in Desante, ignorant of each other. How lovely to turn and see him near; not to have to plead with her seer’s eye to show him to her. She gloried in watching him move, hearing him speak, seeing the way his dark hair curled.
E
very now and then, she felt the edges of the world gathering round them, and knew this time would have to end. At night, she was often wakeful; listening to his cherished breathing, feeling pursued by the dark fate her heart told her she deserved. Gramere warned me always to benefit others. Did she know I was stupid and heartless enough to let my anger stand between me and my conscience?
Landen seemed too good for her. He would never allow bitterness to corrupt his actions. She wanted to pour out love to him, kiss him, ask him what he felt for her. She felt unworthy of this wise and wonderful man.
Since that first morning when she’d apologized, he’d seldom touched her. When he did, it was with affection – stroking her hair or squeezing her shoulder. Affection yes, but love?
Torina sighed. She heard Landen behind her and turned.
‘Landen?’
‘Princess?’ He smiled at her in the way that made her heart catch with love.
‘How odd it is to hear “princess” again. I’m not a princess any more, you know.’
‘Always, to me.’
‘Landen, you say not even Dahmis knows where we are?’
‘True.’
‘You haven’t told me why I was to be killed.’
He sat beside her, clasping his knees. ‘It was said you informed the Sliviites of the location of the allied troops, so they’d be able to invade us successfully.’
‘What? It was said—’
‘There was a surprise attack on Castle Bay, in Glavenrell. Most of the troops were posted elsewhere, many of them in Archeld.’
‘Archeld!’ She shivered. ‘The high king sent troops to Vesputo?’
‘Yes.’
‘What then?’
‘We were able to stop the invasion,’ he said.
‘We?’ His head was lowered. ‘Landen, look at me. Landen, who is this “we”?’ She bent to his face and saw the deep shadows in his eyes, the burden of what he’d witnessed. ‘I never gave information to the Sliviites.’
‘I know, Torina.’
‘But what I did— Oh! What I did not do.’ Her eyes stung, as if a desert wind blew into them. ‘I knew all along it was wrong. Landen, I was so angry over the alliance with Vesputo that when Dahmis asked for my help with the Sliviites, I refused. I’ve never looked in the crystal since that day. I was furious with the crystal, too, for it wouldn’t show me anything of you. To think I could have prevented you from being in a battle! I can never make it up to you.’ She shrank into herself.
‘Torina. It wasn’t your fault. It was war.’
‘War should be fought by men of war!’
‘Yes, it should. But most often, that isn’t how it happens.’
She beat a fist against her forehead. Landen restrained her arm. ‘Torina. You’re not to blame for the war. It was won with as little loss of life as there could possibly be for such a large-scale attack.’
‘How?’
He ignored her question. ‘When the high king ordered me to Archeld, I defied him, too.’
‘Did you? But you never turned your back.’
‘You could still help him. Perhaps his greatest danger is yet to come.’ He picked up two stones and knocked them together.
‘Of course!’
She fumbled in her pocket, finding the lump of cloth that wrapped her stone. The crystal glinted sharply in the sun. Torina let her eyes go soft, asking for a vision.
She saw Vesputo in her father’s study, his handsome face calm. Next to him, Beron. Vesputo murmured orders and plans.
‘Dahmis!’ She gasped. ‘Oh, we must warn him!’
‘What is it?’
The sight in the crystal faded and changed, speeding up. She saw Beron’s triumphant grin. ‘It’s Beron. He’s become Vesputo’s right-hand man. He’s killing the high king!’
Landen’s face clouded. ‘When? Is there time?’
‘Then,’ she rushed on, ‘with the high king gone, chaos falls. In the aftermath, Vesputo means to topple the other kings. He wants to do it by using –’ she looked up at Landen, stunned – ‘the Sword of Bellandra!’
‘The Sword! But Kareed destroyed it.’
‘No, the Sword is hidden somewhere, not destroyed.’
His face went white, eyes freezing. ‘Surely Vesputo would not dare.’
‘Could it be done? Could Vesputo make the Sword do evil?’
Landen suddenly seemed as remote as if he were half a world away, face impenetrable. ‘No one ever said. There was supposed to be a curse on anyone who used it for conquest. What if that meant in the wrong hands it could do great harm? I have to find it, before he tries.’
Goosebumps rose on her skin. He must hate her, for what her father had done. ‘Landen, I swear I never knew!’
‘You say the Sword is hidden? Where is it?’
Eagerly, she returned to the crystal. She stared and stared. All she saw was a vague, muted outline. Her lips quivered as she begged for something more.
‘I’m sorry, Landen. It’s concealed somehow. I can’t see where it is.’
His hands clenched. ‘Tell me how Beron plans to kill the high king. I’ll ride to warn Dahmis, then go to Archeld for the Sword.’
‘It may already be too late. He’s on his way. Take me with you!’
‘No, Torina. I must ride hard. There’s only one horse, and the country is full of assassins seeking you.’
Blood beat loudly in her ears.
‘I’m sorry, Princess.’ His eyes thawed. He scooted close and wrapped his arms round her, rubbing his face in her hair. ‘Dear Torina. I can’t face the idea of sacrificing you to this danger. You must stay alive.’ He caressed her cheek.
‘Hear me,’ he went on. ‘Even if you feel only friendship. Torina, I’ve loved you since the day you helped me to my feet. I tried so hard to stop. Then I thought you were dead, and my life hurt every day.’
‘Y— you love me?’ she stammered. ‘After all my stupidity?’
‘Could you ever doubt it?’
She felt an utter, endless belonging. How had she doubted? She no longer knew.
‘And you. Never doubt, Landen. I love you. I believe it was always so, except for a while I lost my senses. I’m thankful my folly didn’t cost everything.’
His face pulsed with transfiguring gladness as he pulled her near. Their lips met, and time opened the blissful arms of eternity for them.
Chapter Twelve
It took Landen three days to get to Glavenrell’s fortress. He arrived in the middle of the night. Covered with dust, he dismounted his horse in one leap and ran for the entrance. Guards crossed spears in front of him. He held up the obsidian emblem and the way opened.
He’d never been inside the fortress. Its towering dimensions bewildered him. Carrying the black crest dangling from its red cord, he persuaded the night guards to wake the high king, giving the name of Andris when they insisted on knowing who he was.
Deep in the maze of corridors, behind a studded door, Dahmis greeted him and nodded the guards away. Landen sank into soft cushions, peering at Dahmis through a fog of fatigue.
‘You look as if you haven’t slept since we last talked, my friend,’ Dahmis said. ‘Did you find Vineda?’
‘Yes, she’s safe.’
Dahmis let out a great sigh. ‘Thank you. I must ask – was she the woman you once knew?’
‘I have known her, yes. Did you believe she betrayed you?’
‘No. Her character wouldn’t allow something so despicable.’
‘You’re right. She’s sorry, now, that she didn’t help you.’
‘Ah. Tell me, my friend, do you by chance know where she comes from? May I ask where you knew her before?’
Landen wondered how much to confide in this strong king. Should he speak for Torina? Now would be the perfect time to tell Dahmis the full truth.
No, it would be wrong without her consent. She didn’t want force applied to Archeld for her sake, didn’t want the high king to strong-arm her birthright. Landen might as well tell Dahmis
he was the prince of Bellandra and ask for battalions to win back the Sword. And that, he would never do.
Landen rubbed his eyes, his weariness turning to raw pain. ‘My king, I can’t tell you that. But she wants to help you now,’ he said.
Landen wouldn’t stay for all the high king’s hospitable offers.
‘Please, Bellanes. If you hid Vineda yourself, I’m sure she’s hidden well. And what sort of protector is a man dead from lack of rest?’
‘No, my king. I must go.’
He accepted a fresh horse, unwilling to tire his good stallion any further. Though fatigue clawed at his senses, slowing him, he believed that even if he lay down he wouldn’t sleep. Bellandra’s Sword, dismissed from his mind for so many years, now burned inside him with unquenchable heat. Torina had said it wasn’t destroyed after all, that Vesputo sought to use it to bring the kingdoms under his rule.
Landen couldn’t allow that. He must find where Vesputo had hidden the Sword. He could almost feel it in his hand: a mighty, glorious weapon, powerful enough to finish Vesputo.
He rode off into grey light on a black mare. The sky seeped sad rain, turning his road muddy. He rode in a delirium of haste towards Archeld, never stopping except to exchange horses.
He left the road before the border checkpoint, entering Archeld by way of boggy fields. When he was well past the border, he still kept off the main thoroughfares, galloping through scattered hamlets. The rain stopped. Soon, mud covered him and coated the legs of his tiring horse. He would have to change mounts again.
Landen found a village big enough to boast an inn. He enquired about a fresh horse. The innkeeper eyed him suspiciously. Landen forgot what a strange appearance he must present, spattered in muck. He forgot to smile and flash gold at the man.
‘It may be I have a horse for you,’ the innkeeper said. ‘Wait here.’
Landen leaned against the hitching post.
When the doors to the inn opened, soldiers bounded out. Soldiers in green. The village wasn’t only big enough for an inn: it housed one of Vesputo’s patrols.
Landen was so tired from lack of sleep that he simply ran from them, leaping on his poor, exhausted horse. The horse did its best to obey his heels, running hard. The patrol overtook them easily.