The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two (68 page)

“They’re beautiful,” he said, and his voice caught. “I just can’t believe—”

“That you’re a father?” Carina chuckled.

Jonmarc shook his head, his eyes fixed on Corinn’s face as she slept in Carina’s arms. “That I could have had anything to do with something so good.”

“Oh, they’re not always this sweet,” Carina replied with a quiet laugh. “You should see them in a mood. They have your temper, all right.” She was quiet for a moment. “Do you think the prophecy was true?”

The same question had been on his mind for the entire ride home from Principality City. At their wedding, an ancient
vayash moru
had made a prediction:
Twin daughters will each bear a son. One will wear a crown, and the other will wield a sword, and together they will challenge the abyss
. While Jonmarc and Carina had rarely spoken of the prophecy throughout her pregnancy, he was sure it had never been far from either of their minds.

“I don’t know,” he said, letting Kai snuggle into his shoulder. “Personally, I’ve had my fill of making history. But I suspect that they’ll make their own choices and their own destiny, the same way everyone else does.” He gave Carina a sideways glance. “But just in case, whether or not they turn out to be healers like you, I’m still teaching them to fight.”

K
iara Sharsequin Drayke, Queen of Isencroft and Margolan, looked with a mixture of anticipation and sadness at the satchels and trunks waiting next to the door of her room.

“
Skrivven
for your thoughts,” Allestyr said quietly.

Kiara gave a self-conscious smile. “Just thinking about the trip back to Margolan. It’s so funny that when I’m there, and I talk about Isencroft, I call Aberponte home. But now that I’m here, and I think about going to be with Tris and Cwynn, it’s home there, too.”

Allestyr chuckled. “I understand completely, my dear. Though with the official residence of the joint monarchy moving to Margolan, it will be some time before your travels bring you back here again.”

Kiara sighed. “I don’t see any way around it, but I’m afraid you’re right. Once the boys are older,” she said, and her hand slid to her abdomen, which was now undeniably rounded, “we’ll have to work out a way for them to feel as much at home here as in Margolan.” Jae rubbed against her leg and she leaned down to stroke his scaly back.

“Do you have any idea of when you’ll know whether Cwynn will be able to be king? It would certainly simplify things if he is able to take the throne. Two boys, two crowns.”

Kiara nodded and began to pace. “Somehow, I doubt things are ever that simple. At least we know that some of the unusual ways Cwynn’s acted have to do with his power. But what it will mean for him, growing up with that kind of magic, and whether or not it lends itself to kingship… we just won’t know for a while.” She patted her belly. “And as for Ghent, we know he’ll wear a crown, the question is, will it be one throne or two?” She shook her head. “It seems crazy, imagining them being kings when Cwynn’s so little and Ghent hasn’t even been born.”

“Ghent?”

Kiara smiled. “Tris and I chose the name before he left for war.”

“I’ll expect you to include drawings of them along with the official papers we send back and forth to you,” Allestyr said with mock sternness. “I want to watch them grow up, not just meet them when they’re old enough to be sent for fostering.”

“Oh, you can count on seeing some drawings,” Kiara said with a chuckle. “Expect them to speak Croft and Markian, too. I’ll send for tutors when they’re older. If they’re to rule Isencroft, then they must be
of
Isencroft.”

“And how will you work out the choice between the worship of the Mother and Childe versus Chenne?”

Kiara gave him a knowing smile. “The same way mother did. They’ll learn to make all the appropriate official offerings to the Mother and Childe in public, as good princes of Margolan. And they’ll learn to worship Chenne
at the altar in my room, so that they make the Crofters happy.”

“I happen to know Viata raised you to worship the Lover, as she did in Eastmark.”

“Fortunately, the Lover Aspect isn’t as jealous as some of the other faces of the Lady. I’ll teach them to make their private devotions to the Lover, just as mother taught me.”

“You’ve discussed this with Tris?”

“Tris is a summoner. He’s seen the Lady in all her aspects, in person. It’s made him rather… broad-minded… on the topic.”

Conversation stopped as servants came to load Kiara’s bags into the carriages that would take her to Margolan. Jae stirred from his place on the hearth and rubbed against Kiara’s legs, as if to assure that he would not be left behind. At nightfall, Captain Remir and his guards would escort her on the first part of her journey, along with her
vayash moru
and
vyrkin
protectors. Cerise and Royster would travel with her, and both of them were as eager to return to Margolan as she was, Kiara knew. At the border, Margolan soldiers would replace the Isencroft guards, a concession to politics.
Something we’ll need to work out, eventually
, she thought.

A knock at the door made both Kiara and Allestyr turn. The guards had a very short list of permissible guests. Cam stuck his head and shoulders into the room. “Are we too late to say good-bye?” The door swung open, and Cam entered with Rhosyn, arm in arm. Kiara noticed that Cam’s limp was more prominent than before the war, and that Rhosyn seemed to be providing support as much as a gesture of affection.

“Not at all. I’m glad you could stop in before I had to leave.”

Cam greeted Kiara with a bear hug. “I guess I should quit doing that now that you’re queen and all, but old habits die hard.”

“There are exceptions in the rules for old friends,” Kiara said with a grin. “Are the two of you heading for Brunnfen?”

Cam and Rhosyn exchanged glances. “In a while. Brunnfen’s not the warmest place to spend the winter, trust me. And while we work out the details of this whole ‘shifting the monarchy to Margolan’ thing, Tice and Allestyr thought it would be better for Count Renate and me to stick around to help keep familiar faces involved.”

“Does Renn know you won’t be moving back right away?”

Cam laughed. “Renn and Captain Lange made a great team. After all Alvior’s plotting, he couldn’t land ships at Brunnfen at all. In fact, the ships didn’t even get close enough to do any serious damage, so instead of cleaning up a mess, like the rest of the coast, Renn can put his time into building the ale house and distillery that Rhosyn’s father’s invested in.”

He grinned. “I’ve persuaded Rhistiart to move into Brunnfen to lend a hand. He’s got a decent head for business. When the tavern and distillery are up and running, who knows? Rhistiart might stay on with us, or he may head back to Dark Haven. There was a
vayash moru
silversmith who offered him an apprenticeship there.”

“And Renn doesn’t mind standing in as lord of the manor for a while longer?”

“He says he doesn’t. Truth be told, I’ve been gone from
Brunnfen for so long, it’s probably best to have Renn in charge. Bum leg or not, I’m not sure I’m ready to sit still long enough to run a manor house just yet, at least, not the way it should be run. Renn will do just fine, and we’ll visit when we can.” He grinned. “After all, we’ll need to inspect the quality of the ale and spirits, now won’t we?”

After Cam and Rhosyn said their good-byes, Brother Felix came to the door. “If you’re ready, m’lady, something requires your attention,” he said.

Allestyr accompanied Kiara and Brother Felix as they made their way into the necropolis, down the long corridor to the warded room where Kiara had one last piece of unfinished business. Kiara and Allestyr stood back and let Felix release the wardings on the ornately carved door. It swung open, and with a flicker of magic, Felix lit the torches. On the table in the center lay the closed box that held the
nenkah
.

“Is it… the way we left it?” Kiara asked, daring to move to the edge of the table, but hesitant to touch the box.

Brother Felix smiled. “See for yourself.” He opened the box. Inside lay a crude cloth doll. Kiara watched for several minutes, but the doll showed no movement. “I don’t know for certain when the magic ended, but my guess is the night you turned the battle with the burning glass, when you told me that you felt Cwynn’s magic protecting you.”

“So much was going on,” Kiara said quietly. “There was a moment when I was truly afraid, and that’s when I felt a rush of power. My intuition said it felt like Cwynn, but I don’t know how to be sure.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say that the same instinct that led the boy’s soul here for protection also felt your fear and, by instinct, went to his mother.”

“And afterward? How was the
nenkah
when we returned from the battlefield?”

Felix spread his hands, palms up, and shrugged. “When I came down to check, the magic was gone. The
nenkah
was as you see it, nothing but cloth and the bits and pieces we used to create it. I’m guessing here, but it could be that whatever magic frightened Cwynn in the first place may have gone away, and he simply went home.” Felix gave a wan grin. “It’s not the kind of magic you see every day.”

“No, it’s not,” Kiara replied, deep in thought. “I wish we knew for certain about the timing. We’ve heard from the mage-Sentinels that the last of the fighting ended when Tris defeated Scaith. I’d love to know if that’s when Cwynn ‘went home,’ as you put it.” She gave Felix a worried look. “And I wish I knew whether he made it home safely.”

Felix chuckled. “Any ‘child’ capable of projecting his soul across that kind of distance and giving you the boost of power he sent at the battle is likely to be able to find his way back without our help.” He sobered. “He’s not going to be the typical child to raise, even with the magic you and Tris possess. You know that, don’t you?”

The same concern had kept Kiara awake several nights since she had returned from battle. “It’s crossed my mind. The trick is going to be keeping him safe—from himself and from others—until he’s old enough to control his gift.”

Felix clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. I have no doubt of that.”

“What will you do with the
nenkah
?”

Felix looked uncomfortable. “It’s dangerous to leave it as it is. We created it from items that held a personal
resonance for you. If someone were to get a hold of it, it could be used to harm you. Now that we know that Cwynn’s soul is gone and you’ve fully assumed the regent magic, there’s a small ritual of unbinding to turn the
nenkah
back into bits of linen and hair and such. Once that’s done, I’ll take the
nenkah
apart and burn the pieces separately. But before I did, I wanted to show you, just so you’d be certain that Cwynn won’t be harmed.”

“What do we need to do for the ritual?”

“Much less than was required to create the
nenkah
.” Kiara watched in silence as Brother Felix warded the room. He lit a candle from the torch and placed it next to the box that held the
nenkah
. Then Felix took a small knife from his belt. “The closing ritual requires a little blood,” he said.

Kiara held out her hand, and Felix made a shallow cut on her palm, just enough to coat the blade. “Sacred Lady, guardian spirits, kings and queens of Isencroft, withdraw the magic from this proxy now so that the circle may be closed. May you lend your wisdom and protection to Kiara, Queen of Isencroft and Margolan, throughout her days.” Felix shook three drops of the blood onto the candle so that the blood fell onto the wick, extinguishing the flame.

“That’s all there is to the unbinding ritual,” he said quietly. “See for yourself.”

Kiara reached out and stroked the doll with one finger. It was as Brother Felix had said, mere cloth and stuffing. “Thank you,” she whispered, but whether she spoke to Brother Felix or to the
nenkah
and the soul that had departed it, even Kiara was not sure.

T
ris Drayke stood on the front balcony of Shekerishet, looking out over the palace city. Two restless wolfhounds brushed against his legs, as did the ghost of a large mastiff. Absently, Tris reached down to pet them.

He closed his eyes for a moment. In some ways, it seemed as if nothing at Shekerishet ever changed. If he tried, he could almost believe that his mother and sister and father were elsewhere in the palace, that he would see them at dinner, that none of the last two years of treachery, war, and bloodshed had ever happened. Tris opened his eyes and the comforting illusion disappeared. The days he remembered were gone forever, leaving him—and his kingdom—forever changed.

A knock at his door made him turn, and from habit, his hand fell to the sword at his belt, although he knew a contingent of guards outside his door made it highly unlikely that anyone unexpected would approach. Ban Soterius opened the door and stepped inside, letting the guard pull it shut behind him.

“I figured I’d find you at a window.” He chuckled.
“You know, watching for Kiara’s carriage won’t make it come any sooner.”

Tris sighed and turned away from the window. The wolfhounds padded over to the hearth, and the mastiff stretched his long, ghostly legs out behind a chair. “I know. But one of the
vayash moru
guards came ahead to say she would arrive tonight. Goddess, it seems like she’s been gone forever!”