King Callie: Callie's Saga, Book One (31 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

As Marrol lay in a strange bed with another man’s wife, he wondered when his shame had been lost. He took another swig of wine from the almost-empty bottle at his bedside; the blonde beauty that shared his bed draped a hand over his chest, and traced absent-minded circles with her finger.

“What is it?” Ostre asked, with inquisitive brown eyes.

“Nothing of consequence,” he said. “A little devil in my head.”

“Indulge it,” she said, with a smirk. “Enjoy my company. Kells is at the castle, arranging the guard detail for the meeting tomorrow.” Their room was secret, on the far end of Alton - a half-decent bed in a traveler’s inn, normally trafficked by merchants, itinerants, and the like. Enough silver changed hands that he was assured of both privacy and anonymity.

“And Porthan, and Ibhaen?” Had he been sober, he’d have known better than to ask Ostre that. But he wasn’t – and he didn’t care. This was a celebration in and of itself; he was King Regent. He had her, and there was a joy in his heart he hadn’t felt in some time. That meant wine.

She stiffened. “With my servant,” she said, as she mustered a fake smile. “I told them I was visiting my sister.”

“Good,” Marrol said. He finished the bottle with a long drag. “Then we have a great deal of time, don’t we?”

“We do,” she purred. “We do, we do.”

He glanced over at Ostre; she was beautiful in ways Patta wasn’t, and warm like morning sun in summer. Those eyes, that hair, that godly bosom - that smile…It made him wish to Yom he’d demoted Kells when he had the chance. But, then again, knowing Kells had thrown in with that leech Sophine made stealing Ostre all the sweeter. Marrol slid his hand along the length of her body. His fingertips enjoyed every alabaster inch; his mouth devoured hers.
Would Patta care?
He asked himself, as he pressed his body upon Ostre’s, and drew affection from her lips.
Or would she think this was inevitable?

He did not want to think of his wife, and yet, thoughts of her came to him unbidden. How little she cared for matters of the heart, but how greatly power concerned her.
Had she not seen great promise in me when she married me, and boasted of me to her parents - her husband, the brave Minister?
He thought.
And had she not always pushed aside concerns that we had not borne a child, until they became nothing?

“Right there,” Ostre said with smoky words, as an easy smile spread on her face - and her eyes took on a new intensity. “Again. Harder, lover.
Harder
.” His body responded on instinct, savoring the moment, but his mind drifted. Perhaps it was the wine; his thoughts were blank, and his concerns disappeared. So did the hours, as he lost himself in her.

It was not until the morning that he was roused again, by a knock at the door. Ostre still slumbered; Marrol decided not to wake her, and let her dream in peace. Marrol stumbled out of bed, bleary-eyed, dazed, with a faint pain at his temples; perhaps, still a bit drunk. He felt the cool touch of the hard wood floor on his bare feet, and swayed slightly as he made his way to the door. The stiff morning air wrapped around his naked skin. The knocking came again, persistent. “What?” Marrol said. “What do you want?”

“Your escort to the castle is here, Your Majesty,” Kells said, his voice muffled, yet identifiable; there was no question it was him, and for him to be on the other side of the door as his wife was in bed… it chilled Marrol’s blood. “As you requested.”
I made no such request
, Marrol thought, as a sinking feeling emerged in his stomach.
No one was to know I was here.

“Of course,” Marrol said. “I’ll… I’ll be ready in a minute,” he said, as he went back for his small-clothes.

“You must hurry, Your Majesty,” Kells said. “We’ll be late for the meeting if you take much longer. I brought the change of clothes you suggested, and a man to dress you.”

“Then let him in,” Marrol shouted back. “Stay out in the hall, and guard the door.”

“I’m to brief you on the topic of the meeting,” Kells said. “It regards our relationship with the Kersikki, in light of Prince Mas’s escape.”

“Who is it?” Ostre mumbled, half asleep.

“It’s no one,” Marrol said to her. “Go back to sleep.” He eyed the door nervously.

“Have they brought us breakfast?” Ostre asked, as she leaned up on the bed. Kells opened the door for the servant, who entered; Marrol let him in, but opened the door too far, and regretted it immediately. He watched Kells’ expression change in an instant. It filled with anger, and rage, and if Marrol were a lesser man - or a wiser man - he should have been frightened.

“Ostre?” Kells said, starting to push his way past Marrol. “Is that you?” Ostre jolted upright in fear, and her eyes widened in terror.

“You are dismissed,” Marrol said, attempting to push him out of the room. “I’ll meet you downstairs once I’m dressed.”

“What’s my wife doing in your bed, you bastard?” Kells replied. No longer was he polite; he shoved Marrol backwards, into the room - all but toppling the servant who stood near the entrance. “What is
she
doing here?” Kells said, furious, jabbing a finger towards his wife.

“You are
dismissed
, Captain,” Marrol said, firm. “I order you to leave this room.”

“Kells, please, be calm,” Ostre said, her voice frightened but steady; she’d pulled the covers up over her bosom, to cover herself. “Don’t be rash.”

“‘Don’t be rash?’ ‘Don’t be
rash
?’” Kells said, as he pushed past Marrol, towards Ostre. “Everything you’ve done before has been put in the shade by this.
This
is unforgivable. You betray my trust, and our children - for what? For
what
?”

Marrol marched forward, and pulled Kells away. “That’s enough,” Marrol said, “Leave now, or be stripped of your position.” But Kells shoved back, and puffed his chest out.

“By you? A traitor? That’s a laugh,” Kells said, as he began to circle Marrol. “I know what you are. And your men downstairs won’t be here fast enough to stop me from running you through.”

“No!” Ostre shouted. “Please, Kells. Don’t kill him.”

“And why not?” Kells replied, seething with anger. “He stole the Axe. He sent the Sparrows to take Royth’s life... now, he’s stolen you. That’s all he is - a thief.”

“Maybe I haven’t been stolen,” Ostre said. Marrol looked back, and saw her back stiffen up; her fear had given way to stubborn defiance. “Maybe I’ve come willingly.” Marrol’s eyes turned to Kells, and he saw the damage done. The anger simmered, and gave way to something colder. It was then that Marrol knew Ostre should’ve kept quiet.

“Keep her,” Kells said. He glanced at Marrol. “She’s fit for a whore, not a wife,” he said, before storming out.

“Kells,” Ostre said, as she started to get out of the bed, the sheets clutched about herself. “
Kells
!” But the Captain of the Guard wouldn’t listen; his bootsteps stomped down the hall. Ostre started after him; Marrol grabbed her by the arm.

“Where are you going?” Marrol said.

“I need to talk with him,” Ostre replied. “I’ll get him to calm down.”

“He’s beyond that, now,” Marrol said. He noticed, however, the letter that Kells had with him had fallen to the floor; the one clutched in his hand. “Dress yourself first,” he said, as he bent down to pick it up. Ostre went back to her clothes, crumpled in a pile on the far side of the bed, and dropped the sheets. Marrol glanced briefly at her shapeliness, then turned back to the letter. It bore his seal, but not his signature. He recognized the handwriting immediately. “Yom damn it,” he said, as he felt sick to his stomach. “She knows.”

“Who?” Ostre asked, confused. “Who knows?”

“My wife,” he said. “About us.”

“I thought you said you were careful,” Ostre said, bitterly, as she speedily put on her undergarments. “You said that she
wouldn’t find out
.”

“I was wrong,” Marrol replied. “She must have intercepted my letters.”

“This is your fault,” Ostre said. She had a frenzied pace about her, and her words hardly resembled the soft, gentle ones of the night before. They were sudden, and cutting. “All of this.
I
was careful. I took precautions, and you’re the one who gets us caught. And what price do you pay? Hmm?”

“Ostre,” Marrol said. “Calm down. I will talk to her. It does you no good to panic. If I can get her to understand -”

“Understand what?” Ostre said. “You lose a wife’s good favor. That doesn’t matter, when you’re the King. Patta would be a fool to give up a crown, just because you’ve been in my bed. But do you know what I lose, Your Majesty?” she said, as she pulled on her dress. “My children. My
life
. I lose
everything
.” She lowered her head and focused on lacing up the back. “I should’ve never given you that letter,” she muttered.

“Ostre,” Marrol said, “This will pass. Don’t make assumptions. You don’t know that he’ll -”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know about my husband,” Ostre interrupted. “I’m going back now.”

Marrol was silent for a time. “I’m sorry,” he finally said; no other words seemed right. Ostre stopped, and closed her eyes, and quietly nodded in agreement. But her features were twisted up in sadness; she was on the verge of tears.

“Goodbye,” Ostre said, as she fully dressed herself. She left him there, with the servant, and the men in the hall. Marrol wanted to go after her, but he knew it would do no good; he turned to the man-servant, and the clothes.

“You saw nothing of consequence,” he said.

“Of course,” the servant replied. “Shall I dress you now, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“It goes without saying,” Marrol said, as he stretched out his arms, and waited for the servant to pull the shirt onto them.

I shouldn’t have married so smart a woman
, Marrol thought. Once, her mind was his greatest asset, helping him befriend the proper generals and ascend the ranks. But with one letter, she reminded him who was the true power in their marriage - that even kings answered to their wives. And yet, after all of that had happened, his sole regret was being discovered. Nothing else. He once thought he was a good man; now, he knew he had reason to doubt it.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Caliandra could hear the Ministers’ muffled shouting from inside the dusty passageway; the assembled men were indeed of two minds about Mas and Eliya’s escape. She hardly recognized the voices, but she knew Marrol’s well; it cut through the din with both sharpness and intent. “It was a precaution,” Marrol stressed. His voice seemed tired - distracted, even. “I had him watched, because I believed the involvement of his servants was more than coincidence - and I placed men at likely crossroads, to ensnare them if necessary. It is my great regret that they escaped.”

Caliandra resisted the urge to call him a bald-faced liar; she wanted nothing more than to expose him, and to bring him shame in front of his peers. To tell them that he alone was responsible for the attempt, and the theft from the vault. But she waited, as her mother asked; with the pack strapped to her back, and with the axe’s haft in hand - which, due its height, she was forced to carry upright. It almost dwarfed her, and had it been any normal axe built in that manner, she’d barely be able to lift it. But it was no normal axe. She dwelled on the thought for a second, as the men argued; she was startled by her mother’s signal.

Knock. Knock. Knock
. Three gentle raps on the wooden table that cut through the din, and called her to action. Caliandra took a breath, and burst out of the passage; she left the two other bags behind her. She’d need them later.

The men seated around the table whirled towards her in a panic; her mother sat in front of her, and did not budge from her seat. From across the room, Caliandra could see the surprise in Marrol’s eyes - and the additional shock that came when he realized what she had in her hands. It brought a deeply satisfied smile to her face.

“Esteemed members of the Council,” Caliandra said, with a firm grip on the axe’s haft, “It is my pleasure to inform you that the missing pieces of Peacebringer have been recovered.”

“What are you doing with -” Marrol said, surprised; he quickly reconsidered his words. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We are settling the outstanding matter of who shall be King,” Sophine said, curtly. “Your Majesty, you should be delighted… those poor men who gave their lives have been avenged.” Caliandra saw a flash of anger cross Marrol’s face, and his eyes darted towards the door. “And,” Sophine added, “You will be free of your obligation to rule in the King’s absence - which will be a great relief, I’m sure.”

Marrol’s face twisted into a grimace. “You should have told me,” he said, “The moment you knew where they were.” Caliandra watched as Sophine shook her head, and turned to her daughter. “It wasn’t right of you to withhold such secrets from me, and from the Council.”

“If I had done that,” Sophine said, wryly, “The pieces would only be lost again.” Caliandra saw her mother nod, and whipped the pack off her shoulder, to the floor. She bent down and undid the knot that held it together; Caliandra felt a rush of excitement as her fingers peeled back the layers of velvet.
It’s time
, she thought, as she saw Peacebringer’s gleaming steel wink at her.
It’s finally time
. All around, she could her the yelling of voices, and the rushed pace of Marrol’s boot steps; it hardly mattered. She grabbed the top of the haft, and gripped the axe’s head by the blade; both felt light in her hands, as if hollow. She pushed the back end of the head into the haft’s grooved side, where it was meant to sit, and a flash shot across the seam, leaving a trail of blue light. Previously unseen symbols glowed along the length of the axe, and lit up Peacebringer’s cheek. The boot steps stopped; the room was silent in awe.