The Queen of Mages (18 page)

After a few moments Liam turned back. His
words came out between gritted teeth. “I am bringing you a proposal
of marriage from Lord Dardan to
Lady Amira
.”

Katin’s eyes grew wide, and she felt a grand
idiot. “Oh. Oh! Then… they’re waiting at the baroness’s
garden?”

“Yes, and we’d probably have finished this
conversation and arrived there by now if you’d have just let me
speak.” Liam sighed in frustration. “As Lady Amira has no male kin,
m’lord and the count concluded that the offer should be presented
to you.”

Katin gulped, trying to push her heart back
into her chest where it belonged. “Um. Well. In that case, I hereby
accept your offer, on behalf of my lady, Amira Estaile.” That was
the easy part, at least.

“Then we had best get going. You know how
m’lord hates waiting.” He stiffly offered his arm. His frustration
had degenerated into mild disgruntlement.

Katin took his arm and let him lead her
along.
That could not have possibly gone worse.
And for the
first time in her memory, Katin felt ashamed at how she’d spoken to
Liam.

———

Baroness Dyane’s house major said he’d been
expecting them, and led them through the manse to the gardens
behind it. Hedenham Town was less cramped than Callaston, so the
gardens stretched out of sight into the distance—although perhaps
it was an illusion, for the garden had many winding paths, high
hedges, and topiaries shaped like birds, fish, and deer, and one
that appeared to be an enormous frog. Katin inhaled the scents of
roses and daffodils and bluethistle; they had a calming effect on
her, which she desperately needed. Every time she thought about the
conversation in the square, her pulse began to race again.

Liam led her along a path toward the sound
of conversation. They came around a curve and spied Lord Dardan and
Lady Amira standing arm in arm before a tranquil pool. Count Asmus
stood a little distance away, watching them as they chatted. Old
Ban lurked behind him. The governess Clara stood on the other side
of the pool as Calys crouched to examine something in the water.
And sitting in an iron-wrought chair by the edge of the pool was a
little noblewoman, old and withered, with close-cropped silver
hair. She was dressed as fine as any of them, and Katin recognized
her as Baroness Dyane Ulmic. Her
vala
, who seemed equally
old though less frail, stood behind her.

They came to a stop just out of earshot.
Liam waited a few moments until Asmus chanced to look over at them.
The count’s eyes widened and he tilted his chin up in inquiry, and
Liam nodded deeply to him. Asmus broke into a wide grin. He glanced
over at Dardan and nodded as well.

Dardan let go of Amira’s arm and stepped
back. He turned to face her, and went down to one knee. Amira,
seeming surprised—but this could be no surprise, not really—put a
hand up to her breast and gasped.

“I want to hear,” Katin urged, stepping
forward and pulling Liam with her. They came close enough, behind
Amira, to overhear Dardan speaking.

“…lady, I would be honored beyond any man
who lived or has yet to live, if you would become my lady wife.” In
his hand was a tiny box with something glinting in it—the rings. He
held it up to Amira.

“I accept,” she said, and Katin could hear
joy in her voice. She knew Amira, and
that
was not feigned.
Dardan rose, drew the smaller ring from the box, and slipped it
onto Amira’s ring finger on her left hand. In turn, she took the
larger ring and placed it onto Dardan’s left ring finger. When
facing one another, holding hands, the rings would be far from each
other. At the wedding, a second pair of rings would be exchanged,
to go on the right hands. Each ring would then have a matched
partner, symbolizing the eternal bond.

The little ceremony ended, and even Calys
clapped with tears in her eyes. Katin came up and embraced Amira,
and they cried into each other’s hair. Amira might not be in love,
but even she was still susceptible to the emotion wrought by a
betrothal. Amira showed Katin her ring: a band of silver between
two bands of onyx, with a long emerald curving along the upper
side. At the wedding, Dardan would receive another like it, but
larger. Katin went to look at Dardan’s ring, which was bright
yellow gold with a crosshatch pattern and a fat round amberstone
mounted upon it.

Even Count Asmus looked misty-eyed. He
gripped his son by the shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.
“I’m proud of you, m’boy,” Katin overheard him mutter.

Old Baroness Dyane beamed to have hosted
this event, and insisted that they all stay for tea and cakes.
Calys accepted on her brother’s behalf before anyone else could
speak, and even Amira laughed at her enthusiasm.

———

It was evening before they left, their
original dinner plans thwarted, but no one minded. They’d stayed so
long that Dyane had her servants prepare extra places for dinner.
Finally the meal ended and the whole group departed for
Tinehall.

They crossed the town square in the
twilight. Katin felt drained. Her dismay at what had happened with
Liam battled against her elation at Amira’s good fortune, and
finally the elation had won out. But just barely. Katin looked
forward to getting a good night’s sleep; in the morning, the memory
would be a little less sharp.

Rapid hoofbeats drifted to her ears from the
road ahead. She perked up. Who would be racing along in the dark at
this hour? He’d likely make his horse stumble, or worse. Moments
later the galloping mount became visible around the curve of a
street, a dark blotch in the dusk. The rider seemed to notice the
party ahead, and slowed to a trot. Two Tarian guards, one carrying
a torch, moved ahead to screen the rider.

“Who’s there?” Count Asmus called out as the
man came within shouting distance. The rider was breathing as hard
as his horse, whose head drooped as it came to a stop before
them.

“Is that the count? M’lord, it’s… it’s me,
Yancey Stearns,” the man said between gasps for air.

“Farmer Yancey? I thought you’d taken goods
to Callaston,” Dardan said, riding over to him. “Where’s your
wagon?”

“No, not—not important,” the man went on.
“Your wife, the, the countess. She… sent me to tell you…”

Tendrils of panic began to slither around
Katin. She glanced over at Liam, who leaned forward intently,
watching the exhausted farmer.

“The king… the king is dead. He’s been… been
murdered. By Prince Edon.”

Dardan stared dumbly at the farmer. Was this
a joke? A lie? Why would Yancey of all people deceive them? What if
Yancey had been deceived? But he said he’d been sent by the
countess, Dardan’s own mother.

Asmus lurched forward on his horse. “Speak
again, man,” he said, incredulous. “You say the king’s been
murdered? By his own son?”

Yancey nodded. “I heard the news… with my
own ears, m’lords,” he said, beginning to catch his breath. “The
countess, she said I was to take her best horse and head back here
at all speed. She even gave me a pouch of silver to speed me along,
she said, to buy new horses as mine got blown out,” and he produced
a little leather pouch that clinked and handed it to Dardan. “I’m
sorry it’s not fuller. I didn’t reckon I had time to haggle. This
is the fourth horse I’ve been on, plus I spent a silver for a room
at an inn last night. I’d been riding so hard I couldn’t barely
walk for all the saddlesores, m’lord, begging your pardon.” He
seemed to notice then that there were women present as well, and
quickly doffed his hat. “Oh, uh, m’ladies.”

Dardan’s initial shock was fading, but the
uncertainty and the taste of bile rising up his throat were no
better replacement. “Tell us from the start, sir.”

The farmer nodded. “I’d brought some cows
for sale at the market, and got my silver, and went to the
countess’s house—er, m’lord’s house, I mean—to pay my respects, and
see if she had any news for m’lord, since I was to head back out to
the county. Was almost night, then, and she told me to sup with the
servants and find a spare room, sayin’ there was no need for me to
waste my coin on a city inn. So I slept, and when I woke the whole
house was in a fit, like someone’d kicked an anthill. And I asked
what was the matter, and one of the servants said the king was
dead, and she broke down crying and couldn’t say no more. So I went
to find the countess, who, um, begging your pardon, but she was mad
as a hornet. She told me that it was true, the king was dead, and
that his own son, the prince, had done it. And she put me on the
horse and told me to bring that news to you, as soon as I could.”
He wiped his brow, still sweating even in the evening chill. “I
rode off just past dawn, yesterday morning, and thank the
Caretaker, it was a swift ride.”

Everyone stared at each other in the silence
that followed. Even Asmus seemed rattled. “You’ve done well, son,”
the count said, riding forward. “It’s late, and you’re in no state
to ride back to your farm. You stay at the Kettle tonight, and keep
this as a reward for your good service.” He took the pouch of
silver from Dardan and handed it back to Yancey. “Don’t worry about
the horses. This news is far more important than any few pieces of
horseflesh. Did you learn anything else as you were leaving the
city?”

“No, m’lord. I saw few people about, but
them I did see looked afraid. The guards at the Festival Gate let
me out without so much as a glance. They looked to be arguing with
each other.”

The count nodded and dismissed the man, who
walked his tired mount over toward the inn. “We must make haste to
Tinehall,” Asmus said.

———

Gerald was waiting at the door when they
rode up. “M’lord is quite late,” he muttered, “and dinner has
gotten cold.” A trio of stableboys darted out to assist the riders;
Gerald went to Asmus’s horse himself.

Asmus dismounted and handed the reins to the
old house major. “We stayed long at Baroness Dyane’s, but other
news has come.” He put a hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “The king is
dead, sir.”

In the flickering torchlight, Gerald’s
somber face seemed to collapse in on itself. “The… what?”

“It is true. Come, we must talk. Inside, all
of you.” Dardan watched as the others filed past him into the
house. Gerald sagged, holding himself upright only by the reins in
his hand. Dardan went to him and took his arm. “Are you all
right?”

Gerald tried to steady himself. “I… I will
be, m’lord, thank you. You best get inside.” Dardan nodded and
went, turning back once to watch Gerald as he led the horse
away.

A fire roared in the sitting room’s hearth,
and the wall sconces were all lit. The room was paneled in wood and
decorated with hunting trophies. The dead-eyed animal heads
sticking out from the walls had unnerved Dardan as a child. He’d
grown used to them, but just now they seemed full of rancor and
malice.

Asmus warmed his hands at the fire. Even
with the torches on their ride back to the manor, it had still been
too dark to reliably make out expressions. Now Dardan saw woe,
fear, and dismay on all sides. Amira seemed shocked, her face pale,
as she settled into a chair. Katin stood firmly behind her,
unwilling to move more than two feet away from her lady, as if a
threat were present in the room with them. Liam furrowed his brow
and chewed on his thumb. Old Ban was the only one who looked calm,
although perhaps he was just better at hiding his distress.

Dardan felt lost. He didn’t even know where
to begin; what to think, what to say, what to do.

Calys was the first to speak. “Why would
Prince Edon kill his own father?” Dardan looked at her, and for all
the times she had seemed like a miniature version of his
mother—willful, cunning, energetic—in the flickering firelight she
seemed little more than a scared child.

“Calysane, go to your bed. I will speak to
you in the morning.” Asmus’s voice was strained and low. He stayed
facing the fire.

It usually took brusque shouting to get
Calys to do anything, but now she nodded and went out, Clara
following after. Dardan gave his sister’s hand a quick squeeze as
she went by.

He went over to his father and spoke
quietly. “Will Gerald be all right? He seemed distraught. I know he
served the royal house before he entered our service, but…”

His father glanced sidelong at him. “He knew
King Viktor as a young man. They were friends. Gerald will grieve,
but he will be fine.” Asmus straightened and turned around, facing
the others. “We have much to do. I do not doubt Yancey’s tale, but
we must prepare for whatever may come.”

“What is likely to come, my lord?” Amira
asked. There was a tremor in her voice, but still she looked Count
Asmus right in the eye. The memory of the afternoon blossomed in
Dardan again, only now a shadow lay across it.

Asmus stalked around the edge of the room,
looking up at the hunting trophies. “I cannot say for certain. I
assume that Edon tired of his father’s disrespect and somehow
managed to convince some younger lords to support him. But the king
is no fool, and would not have let Edon build up a power base on
his own. There must have been some treachery involved.”

The political implications seemed less
important to Dardan than the here and now. “We must send out
messengers to all the barons,” Dardan said, “and to further north
and east, into Tyndam and Everfleet, to inform our neighboring
counts.”

Asmus nodded. “Yes. And to the duke’s hold.
Loram Arkhail is presumably still in Callaston, but the duchess and
his seneschal must be informed. And we must send someone to
Callaston to confirm the story, and find out whatever other news
they can.”

It seemed so obvious in retrospect that
Dardan felt an idiot for not having thought of it. “Yes. I will
go.”

Asmus shook his head. “No. You must stay
here, at least for now. I will need a right hand who carries my
authority.”

Dardan felt even stupider. Of course he had
to stay. He was not thinking clearly; the whole day had thrown him
for a loop. They’d left before dawn to go deal with another of
Baron Parvis and Baroness Lalia’s spats, about some damaged wall
between their lands. Asmus had ordered them to split the repair
costs, which had led to another round of arguing. Finally the count
had cursed them in a rage, threatening to exile them both to
Vasland if they didn’t cooperate.

Then the Tarians had ridden all the way back
to Hedenham Town, and the whole engagement surprise had to be
arranged. The afternoon’s euphoria had exhausted Dardan as much as
all the riding, leaving him doubly tired.

The count seemed to sense Dardan’s fatigue,
and told him to get some rest at once. He agreed, but insisted upon
escorting Amira to her own chambers first. The east wing of the
main house held several sets of comfortable apartments, including
those of his siblings. Ilya’s were unoccupied for now, since he was
bunking in town with the other apprentices. Those were meager
accommodations compared to living in a manor house, but every time
they spoke Ilya had some new adventure to recount. He seemed to
like it there.

Ilya. The boy would probably learn the news
by the morning. Dardan itched to ride out and find his brother
himself, but Yancey would no doubt recount his tale to everyone at
the inn’s common room. The gossip would spread like wildfire. Ilya
might have already heard.

Dardan shook the thoughts away. Amira glided
along beside him, subdued. They came to the apartments they’d lent
her, Katin leading the way inside. Amira paused at the threshold.
“My lord, this has been a day of both great joy and great sorrow. I
pray that the light of day will raise our spirits.”

“As do I. My… my lady.”
My love,
he
almost said, but it seemed out of place. He bent down to kiss her
hand, but she stopped him with a finger on his chin.

“I do believe a betrothed couple is entitled
to at least one of these,” and she leaned forward and kissed
him.

He had kissed girls before, of course,
playing as children, or with maidens of the town when he was
younger. But none of that had prepared him for this. All that
passed through his mind was clouds and rain and silk and leaves
rustling in the wind. After an eternity, Amira pulled back, her
lips glistening. She opened her beautiful gray eyes and looked up
at him. Whatever she saw made her grin wide. “Good evening, my
lord,” she said, and closed the door.

———

He woke at dawn, and lay abed for a few
minutes. The reality of the previous night’s news came back slowly,
almost like recalling a dream, but he knew it had been real. Soon
the noises of morning activity drifted through his door, so he rose
and summoned Liam to assist with his morning ablutions.

His father found them at breakfast. “I’ve
sent off three men to spread the news to Thorncross, Caswick, and
Everfleet. And I sent Topher Belwin off to Callaston, to see what
he can learn there.”

“Belwin… the ironmonger’s son? Why him?”

“He’s quick of wit and he blends in. Not
that I expect him to need to engage in any subterfuge, but he was
the best man I could think of for the job. Beyond that, today we
must address the townsfolk and let them know that all is well.”

“All is hardly well,” Dardan said around a
mouthful of eggs. But he held up a hand before his father could
argue. “I know. Reassurance is important.”

The meeting was held out in the town square
before the Copper Kettle. Someone brought out a box for Asmus to
stand on as he shouted out to the townsfolk. Dardan stood beside
his father, scanning the worried faces before him. Most of them
looked shocked, as was to be expected. A king’s death was never
pleasant, but the manner of Viktor’s death was almost too much to
believe.

Asmus did his best to reassure them, saying
that even a king’s time came eventually. He reminded them that the
harvest would be upon them before long and that they should keep
their minds on the land and their work. After he was done, he spent
a few minutes going through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and
pat backs. Count Asmus was never quiet, not even now, but it was as
if he left a trail of calm behind him as he went.

They returned to Tinehall for a nearly
silent luncheon. No one, not even Calys, had the gall to make idle
conversation just now. Afterward Dardan asked Amira for a walk in
the gardens, which she accepted. They passed by the flowerbeds and
the manicured lawns, by the topiaries trimmed in the shape of
mastiffs.

His betrothed said little, so Dardan kept
his peace as well. As they passed the reflecting pool at the far
edge of the gardens, she came to a halt. “My lord—Dardan,” she
corrected herself. “I must get used to calling you that.”

Dardan smiled. “It will take time, I
suppose.” He marveled that he could speak to her so easily now. His
breath still caught whenever he saw her, but at least the
debilitating nervousness had gone.

“There’s something I must tell you. When…”
She paused, and took a deep breath. “This is very difficult for me.
Please, I beg your forgiveness in advance.”

Something in her tone worried him. “What is
it?”

“Well… back in Callaston, when her majesty
the queen spoke with us… I did not tell the whole truth about what
Edon said to me.”

Dardan was surprised. He glanced at Liam,
who stood a few paces off, near Katin. The
vala
watched her
lady intently. Liam raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly.

“Go on,” Dardan said. “What did he say?”

“What I told everyone—told you—was that he’d
accused me of hiring a witch to cast a spell on him. I implied that
he’d used it as an excuse to have me brought to him, so that he
could force himself upon me. But what he actually said was…
slightly different.” Now she met Katin’s eyes. Her
vala
nodded urgently.

Amira sighed. “What he actually said… was
that he thought that
I
was a witch, and had put him under a
spell myself. And that the only way to break it was for him to lay
with me.”

Dardan recoiled. “Black spirits! Is he mad?
And why didn’t you tell us this before?”

“I thought it didn’t matter. Something
stopped me from quite saying the truth before Queen Alise, and once
I’d told that story, it didn’t seem wise to try to clarify it. At
the time, I hardly knew you and your mother. And besides, we were
going to be far away from Edon. His family had banished him to
their estates. I wanted to put it behind me. But now… I fear he may
come for me.”