King (18 page)

“It seems they dislike her. Poor lady.” Ela’s beautiful eyes reflected genuine compassion.

Amazing, that compassion. Particularly considering that this same young queen might soon draw Ela into a life-threatening
situation. Must he choose between Ela and the king? No . . . He could not lose Ela. Not again.

Infinite? Please protect my wife! Kien lifted Ela’s hand and kissed her fingers, avoiding Aeyrievale’s sapphires in favor of her incredibly soft skin. “I love you!”

A nobleman’s cultivated, too-familiar voice interrupted from behind them. “Most moving, my lord. Such an example of wedded bliss should be honored by the entire court.”

“Ruestock!” Kien turned, his free hand instinctively moving to his sword as he glared at the oily, no doubt Atean lord—this conniver who’d once stolen Ela and whose scheming had contributed to Kien’s exile.

He’d gladly pay for one good, defensible reason to strike this man!

Even as he finished the thought, Kien glimpsed a flash of light in Ela’s hand—the branch, taking form. And Ela turned, her dark eyes mirroring its fiery white glow.

 18 

E
la clenched the prophet’s branch, longing to beat the sleek-haired Ruestock. Infinite, please?

No. Ask him, “How long will you test the Infinite?” Then warn him that he has chosen the wrong path.

All right. Ela held the glowing branch before the startled nobleman. “Lord Ruestock. How long will you test the Infinite? He warns that you have chosen the wrong path.”

He moistened his lips and stepped back, clearly unnerved. Yet, as ever, he sneered. And quibbled. “I . . . take it that this is a prophetic utterance, Lady Aeyrievale? A meaning quite apart from the garden path on which we now stand?”

“Yes.” Spirals of light expanded from the branch like unfurling vines, flowing over her, reaching for Ruestock.

The nobleman’s eyes widened. He bowed, then swiftly walked from the garden. What was the scoundrel planning? Infinite? I’m curious . . . how many times will You warn him?

As many as I please.
He sent her a stern mental nudge, making her turn again.

Oh. Ela hid a wince. Everyone—servants, courtiers, king, and queen—stared at her and Kien, all unmoving, as if waiting for some unavoidable disaster.

Wonderful. Her formal introduction to court, and lovely sapphires or not, she was already an object of fear.

Kien adjusted his sword, then offered Ela his hand. “Prophet, shall we greet the king and his queen?” As they walked and smiled soothingly at the nervous courtiers, he asked, “What is Ruestock plotting?”

“Everything possible, I’m sure.”

“Is he Atean?”

“Yes, but for himself more than his goddess. He’s a meddler, schemer, and instigator.” And lecherous. But she couldn’t mention this to Kien. He’d fillet the man and end up in prison.

They approached the king and queen and bowed. The instant they straightened, Akabe’s formality lapsed into a warm grin, almost as charming as Kien’s. “Lord Aeyrievale. Lady Aeyrievale. Welcome.”

As Ela smiled, Kien said, “Majesty, thank you.”

Akabe nodded, some of his pleasure fading. “I’d say we’ve been bored without you, but, unfortunately, that wouldn’t be true. Lady Aeyrievale, you haven’t met the queen.” He looked down at the slender silent young woman standing beside him. “Caitria, this is Lady Aeyrievale. Parne’s prophet.”

Her gaze fixated on the still-glowing branch, Queen Caitria nodded and uttered one word. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” Ela shifted the branch away and smiled, trying to look harmless. Infinite, please, let the queen not faint. She’d be blamed, and—considering what they were about to face—she needed to earn the queen’s trust.

Infinite? A few hints? Please?

As the king and Kien turned away, talking with the other lords, the queen seemed to compose herself. “Lady Aeyrievale, these are my . . . companions, Lady Faine, Lady Trillcliff, and Lady Piton. Will you join us?”

“Gladly.” Or rather as glad as she could be. “Thank you.” A tremor of premonition slid over Ela’s skin. The young queen’s future terror presented itself now, making Ela’s heart race so violently that she had to take deep, calming breaths. Forget the ashes and death! Closing her thoughts to the vision, Ela
focused on the queen, who was talking, her lovely face as wary as her voice.

“We saw you speaking to Lord Ruestock. What did you say to each other?”

“Lord Ruestock offered his compliments and I offered him guidance from the Infinite.” Noticing the haughty silver-haired Lady Faine’s suddenly avid expression, Ela added, “Ruestock was advised to reconsider certain choices he’s made.”

Lady Trillcliff aimed a prompting glance at the queen. “Introspection is always useful for self-improvement. It’s advice we might all accept.”

The queen looked away, her slim jaw visibly tensed. Obviously this wasn’t the first none-too-subtle hint she’d caught from Lady Trillcliff. Worse, Lady Faine and Lady Piton both nodded, approving their friend’s indirect criticism of the queen. As if stuffy lectures would delight anyone!

Be calm, Ela warned herself. Swatting thoughtless noblewomen wouldn’t help this situation, and no doubt the Infinite wouldn’t approve. Didn’t the queen have any attendants her own age?

When Lady Faine cleared her throat to speak, the queen turned to Ela in obvious desperation. “Lady Aeyrievale, will you walk with me to those steps? There’s a marvelous view of the ocean.”

“Yes, Majesty. Thank you. I love the ocean.”

“So do I.” Keeping herself warily away from the branch, the queen quickened her pace as they left the other ladies. When they were a safe distance apart from everyone, the queen burst out, “One more ‘you need to improve’ remark and I’ll scream!”

“Understandable, lady.”

“Furthermore, I hate Lord Ruestock! I wish the king would send him from court.”

Ela shuddered, unable to hide her disgust. “I agree. He’s . . . overly flirtatious!”

“With you too?” The queen stared as if contemplating a freak. “But you’re a . . . a prophet.”

Definite royal mistrust here. And did she sense . . . loneliness?
Hmm. Ela kept her tone pleasant. “Lord Ruestock seems unable to control his, er, compliments to women, no matter who they are—prophet or not.”

Caitria reddened and looked away. “Lord Ruestock is one of my second cousins, and he hunts with my lord-father. Once, about five years ago—I was thirteen—Ruestock told me I was so pretty he ought to marry me and offer me to the goddess. And the look he gave me . . . I was terrified. But my lord-father overheard.”

Ela halted, sickened. “Obviously your father protected you.”

“If locking me away from everyone might be called protection.” She began to walk again, leading Ela up to a curving stone balustrade. A breeze swept up from the ocean far below, loosening light brown tendrils from her softly pinned hair. “Yet it’s not as if Father cared enough to speak to me beyond pronouncing punishments. Worse,” she continued, bitterness edging her voice, “he still hunts with Ruestock.”

“I’m sorry.” Ela sighed, thinking of her own father. Dan Roeh was a stern parent, but he often joked with Ela. And he’d always cherished Ela and her little sister, Tzana. Remembering her fragile baby sister and Dan’s grief at her death before Parne’s siege, Ela fought a stab of sorrow. She mustn’t burst into tears now. How sad that the queen never felt as loved by her own father.

Leaning on the balustrade, the queen hesitated. “Forgive me. I’ve said too much. But I’m half-wild after being lectured all morning. I trust you’ll not breathe a word of our conversation.”

“As I live, Majesty, I’ll tell no one.”

Caitria studied Ela now, seeming perplexed.

To gain royal insights, Ela dared her. “Say what you’re thinking.”

The queen paled. At last, evidently fearing Ela already knew, she said, “I think you’re not . . . tall enough. Or frightful enough. For a prophet.”

A laugh escaped before Ela could stifle it. Well, she’d asked. “I’m proof that the Infinite considers the heart rather than outward appearances. You expected someone more dignified. More—”

Hypocritical, pretentious, condemning, and small-minded.

Infinite! Bracing herself, Ela repeated, “Hypocritical, pretentious, condemning, and small-minded.”

Caitria gasped. “I didn’t say so!”

“No. But your Creator hears your thoughts concerning me and the other ladies.” As the queen blinked, seeming stunned, Ela added, “I don’t blame you. Thoughts can be impossible to control. And mortals
are
often hypocritical, pretentious, condemning, and small-minded, no matter what they believe.”

“True.” Queen Caitria tensed both hands on the balustrade now, as if she longed to leap over it and escape. “While we’re being so honest, I’ve no choice but to speak with you. My lord-husband all but commanded it.” She almost smiled at Ela. Almost. “At least for now I no longer think you hate me, or that you’ll strike me dead. But . . . you’re worrisome. Do you know all my thoughts?”

“Rest assured, Majesty, most of your thoughts remain known only to you and to the Infinite. I don’t see or hear everything.” Noting Caitria’s relief, Ela continued. “Soon, however, you’ll make your own choices concerning your life and your soul. Because other lives will be affected by your choices, you must be careful.”

“Yes, Prophet.” Caitria sounded dry-voiced now. Definitely one who’d heard too many lectures. “I can guess what those choices might be. You sound as if—” She stopped, interrupted by a sleek gray dog, which trotted up and daintily licked her hands. Instantly, the queen crooned, “Issa! Dear thing! Did Naynee feed you? Did she?”

As the queen smoothed her dog’s shining coat, Ela looked around.

Kien, talking with Akabe, caught Ela’s glance and grinned, luring her thoughts toward him. Gorgeous man! How dare he distract her?

Akabe turned and saw what—or rather who—had distracted Kien mid-sentence. He should have known. And he understood. If Caitria had cast him such a loving smile, Akabe would have abandoned this impromptu conference altogether. But Caitria petted Issa, ignoring everyone else. Therefore . . .

Akabe backhanded Kien’s shoulder. “Stop flirting with your wife and pay attention!”

Kien shot him a mock-threatening look. “I am your servant, sir.”

A headstrong and unexpected servant, Akabe agreed silently. But most welcome.

Faine coughed, gaining Akabe’s attention. “Are we agreed on our plan, sirs?”

Trillcliff and Piton nodded. Kien asked, “When?”

Relieved to have the decision made, Akabe said, “Day after tomorrow. Weapons, silver, plain clothes, and not much gear. We want to remain inconspicuous and travel swiftly. Is everything arranged for the decoy royal household?”

Piton twitched as if overcome by nerves. “It is, sir. We’ll set out before dawn and see you safely away. And to verify . . .” A shamed expression crossed Piton’s lined face. “Aythan Garric?”

Father. Just hearing his name reopened a gash in Akabe’s soul. Was he ready to face this? Was Caitria? What if his plan failed? Would she die? Would the temple be lost to Siphra?

Infinite . . . be with us, please. Bless us with Your presence. Be with my friends. He nodded at Faine, Trillcliff, and Piton. “Yes. Aythan Garric. Only you three know where to locate me. Guard yourselves!”

If he died, no doubt his advisors would soon follow him in death.

Faine shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. “Our goal, sir, is to ensure that you survive and your enemies are captured. During the previous reign, fear made cowards of too many of the Infinite’s faithful. We will not allow ourselves to be overcome by terrors now.”

A little boy’s happy shout made Akabe turn. Barth ran past, calling again, “Prophet!” Apparently released from his afternoon lessons, he seemed oblivious to his duties, favoring his pretty prophet-teacher more than his king. The boy probably wanted to show her his new teeth.

As the little page hugged Ela, kissed her bejeweled hand, and chattered like a well-trained bird, Kien pretended offense. Particularly when Ela laughed and knelt, hugging and kissing the boy in return. “He’s trying to steal my wife! Excuse me, sirs.”

“Aeyrievale!” Akabe lifted a hand. “Bring Barth to me, please. I need him to fetch Lord Ruestock.” Unless Siphra’s lady-prophet had frightened the irksome nobleman beyond use.