Prince's Fire (19 page)

Bayard's eyes were on his men. He looked grave. “I've seen enough. Send them away.”

Justien nodded to the guard, who escorted the three prisoners out of the cell. He closed the door, sealing those who remained inside. “Well?”

Bayard licked his lower lip. “Let Stina and the children go.”

“That's not going to happen,” said Lucien. “We have unanswered questions about who else might be involved, particularly anyone who might be overseas in Inya. We have concerns about a woman named Zoe. We cannot interrogate you, but we can interrogate the others.”

“My wife doesn't know anything beyond the enclave location and some of the people's names, and you already have those,” said Bayard.

“We'll see for ourselves,” said Lucien.

“No one knows where Zoe is except me,” said Bayard. “If I use my deathstone right now, you'll never find her.”

“She's on the
Water Spirit
; we already know that,” said Lucien. “Using your deathstone won't save your family. We'll interrogate them, using any means necessary. And once we have everything out of them that we can get, we'll stake them.”

“For what crime?” snarled Bayard. “The children are guilty of nothing!”

“Treason,” said Lucien.

Bayard turned to Vitala. “Do you see? This is what happens when you join forces with the enemy. Simon is but three years old!”

“Perhaps we could work something out,” said Vitala.

“I don't bargain with traitors,” said Lucien.

“If you were to tell us everything you know,” said Vitala, “we would have no need to interrogate your family or any of your conspirators from the enclave.”

“You think I'm going to fall for that?” said Bayard.

“It's not a trick,” said Vitala. “It's a bargain. You give us what we need, under truth spell, and we'll spare your family from any unpleasantness.”

“Why should I do any of this if you're just going to stake them anyway?”

“To save them unnecessary pain,” said Lucien.

“Perhaps we could spare their lives,” suggested Vitala.

“Out of the question,” said Lucien.

“The woman has no riftstone, no magic,” said Vitala. “Neither have the children.”

“The woman has to die,” said Lucien. “And when she's gone, and Bayard too, the children will be orphans. There is no one to care for them.”

“It was the Inyans!” cried Bayard. “They planned everything. They wanted an heir from Rayn, and then they wanted him dead.”

“Which Inyans?” asked Vitala.

Bayard said nothing.

“What are Zoe's intentions on the
Water Spirit
and in Inya?” asked Celeste.

The old battle master shook his head. “I've said all I'm going to say. You want more, offer me a deal. One that allows Stina and the children to live free.”

“You have to tell us
everything
, under truth spell,” said Vitala.

“Deal,” said Bayard.

“And you publicly denounce the Inyans behind all this,” she added.

“For that, you have to make a better offer.”

“You publically denounce them,” said Vitala, “and you get to live. You do as you're told, go where you're told, and say what we want you to say. In return, you can watch your family grow up. Not as a free man, but as a prisoner below the Imperial Palace in Riat. We'll relocate your family to Riat, and they can visit you periodically as long as you keep your end of the bargain.”

Bayard sagged in his chair, though whether it was a gesture of defeat or relief, Celeste could not tell. “It's a deal.”

Justien beckoned to Celeste.

She stepped forward to administer the truth spell.

T
hough it was early yet, Celeste crawled exhausted into bed. The interrogation of Bayard had taken all day. Her part in the interrogation had not been difficult—not in and of itself. It was like riding a horse, an undemanding activity unless one had to do it all day long. Then one got tired and sore.

She'd had to sustain a truth spell on Bayard and report to Justien anytime the man lied or evaded a question. Sustaining magic continuously for hours on end drained her. By lunchtime, she was exhausted, and since there wasn't another mind mage available whom Lucien trusted, she went back and sustained her spells for another six hours.

It had been worth it. Justien had pulled many important details out of Bayard. It turned out that Justien and Vitala's sweep had missed two of the conspirators, both of whom had been away from the enclave at the time of the assault. Bayard gave them the details on who those men were and where to find them, and Justien dispatched his people to intercept them.

Bayard confessed that about five years ago, Councilor Worryn had approached him and promised aid to his resistance movement in the form of money and gunpowder in exchange for Bayard training an assassin to target Prince Rayn. Later, when the Inyans had learned the chosen assassin was a woman, they'd come up with the idea of having her seduce Rayn first. That way the prince might produce an heir that Councilor Worryn could later use to control the throne.

Part of that plan had succeeded.

The Inyans had insisted that the assassination take place outside of their country. This had to do with Inyan laws mandating the use of truth spells on all political officials, including Land Council members, when a public figure was assassinated in Inya. Plans were put in motion to send Rayn to Kjall and assassinate him there.

Prince Rayn traveled to Kjall as intended. Zoe and three of the war mages on her team went with them, Zoe traveling openly and the others in secret. The assassins found the Imperial Palace impregnable, but when Rayn traveled to Riorca on the
Goshawk
, they made an assassination attempt there, which failed and resulted in the loss of the war mages. Later, while Zoe was en route to Riorca again, this time on the
Soldier's Sweep
, another team of Bayard's tried to assassinate Rayn—and failed again.

Now Zoe was on the
Water Spirit
with Prince Rayn.

Would she make another attempt on Rayn's life?

Yes, Bayard had said, but only if she could get Rayn alone and distracted. Rayn was a fire mage. In a fair fight, he was more than a match for her. She would attempt to seduce him or otherwise throw him off his guard rather than attack him openly.

This was Celeste's worst fear. No matter what she did, she could not protect Prince Rayn during his journey on the
Water Spirit
. All she could do was hope and pray that he didn't put himself into a situation where he was alone with Zoe.

But she could, if Lucien allowed her to take the
Soldier's Sweep
, travel to Inya and tell him about the danger when his ship made landfall. Once Rayn arrived on Inya, he might be safe from the assassins if they were unwilling to kill him within his country's borders. But she was not going to count on that.

She'd cajoled Lucien, yelled at him, and finally begged, but he'd remained firm. He would send word to Rayn on the post, but he would not chase after the prince with his personal ship, even though they now knew with certainty that Zoe meant to kill him.

For now, Celeste needed sleep. Tomorrow, she would take matters into her own hands.

•   •   •

Rayn stood in the driving rain, looking southward toward home. Just a few weeks ago, he couldn't wait to set sail for Inya. Now it was the last place he wanted to go. Once again he'd have to deal with the corrupt Land Council, his addled father, his self-absorbed mother. Once again it would be him and Magister Lornis against the world—and with high stakes, now that he faced a ratification vote.

Having Celeste at his side would have made all the difference. He could have looked forward to showing her his homeland. Inya was beautiful by anyone's standard, and he had many favorite spots he wanted to share with her. Without her, he feared they would be empty pleasures.

He heard footsteps behind him, and Lieutenant Tonas joined him at the rail. “I suggest you go to your cabin, Your Highness,” he said. “The weather's worsening.”

Rayn looked up at the nighttime sky. The lieutenant was right; the wind was picking up. The sailors swarmed into the tops to reduce sail. “All right.”

He headed to his cabin, opened the door, and stepped inside.

And jumped in surprise. Zoe was sitting on his cot.

“What are you doing here?” he said. “You're not to be in my cabin without permission.”

“You decided not to marry that princess they tried to foist on you,” said Zoe.

Rayn frowned. “You've got your facts twisted up.”

“So tell me the story. The rain's going to continue for a while.” She rose to her feet and walked toward him. “We'll have to stay in our cabins. Why not pass the time in an agreeable way?”

“You mean in conversation?” He raised his brows. Zoe had never been much for talk.

“If you like,” said Zoe. “I have other ideas.”

The floor tilted as the ship heeled over, and he leaned to compensate. “Go back to your own cot. I'm not interested tonight.”

“That's not what your body's telling me.” Zoe eased up next to him and slid an arm around his waist. Firm breasts pressed against him.

For a moment, he tolerated it. He liked being touched, and she did have a lovely body. And yet so much had changed. A year ago, his cock would have stiffened in eager anticipation when she'd slid up against him like this. But not today. Nor ever again, he suspected. He was truly over women like Zoe.

He pushed her away—gently, because the floor was moving beneath their feet. “No. We're finished.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “That princess can't suck you off the way I can.”

Now she'd done it. Her words had summoned the mental image of Celeste taking him into her mouth. He nearly groaned at the eroticism of that image. Their lovemaking had been limited in scope and opportunity, and they hadn't tried that particular sex act yet. But it was fantasy material.
Now
he had a cockstand.

Zoe reached for his belt. “Let's go to your cot, where the storm won't knock us off our feet.”

He pushed her hand away. She might have felt his physical response, but she had no idea what had actually inspired it. “Go to your own quarters and leave me alone.”

Outside, the sailors shouted, and the wind groaned in the sails. The cabin lurched. He fell heavily to one side and caught himself, but Zoe wasn't so lucky. She lost her balance and windmilled her arms. He reached for her, but snatched only empty air as the ship's bucking tossed her halfway across the cabin.

“Are you all right?” Struggling as the floor tilted and heaved beneath him, Rayn made his way haltingly toward her and picked her up off the floor. “Here, hold on to something.” He spotted some handrails mounted on the wall, perhaps intended for this very situation. He steered her toward them.

The floor lurched again, and he grabbed her more firmly, placing one hand on her arm and another on the back of her neck. He maneuvered her to the railing and she grabbed hold of it.

His thumb found something on her neck: a lump. No, two lumps, one next to the other. He'd felt them before, years ago, and thought nothing of them at the time. But now they piqued his curiosity. Where had he felt something similar?

In the belowground prison at the Enclave building.
The Riorcan assassin had lumps in his neck just like these, for his implanted riftstone and deathstone.

“Stop,” she said. “You're hurting me.”

He jerked his hand away. As the wind howled outside and rain drummed on the cabin roof, the hair rose on his own neck. Who
was
this woman, really? “What are those lumps on your neck?”

“Where?” She placed her hand on the spot. “You mean my neck bones?”

Rayn knew what neck bones felt like, and those weren't them. Was Zoe an assassin, like those men who'd assaulted him in Denmor? The thought boggled his mind. Yet it would explain a great deal. He'd always wondered why she'd dogged him so persistently in the face of continued rejection. “I don't think that's what they are.”

The muscles in her arm jumped beneath his fingers. She was frightened.

She yanked her arm from his grip and staggered toward the door. Despite the bucking of the floor, she managed to open it and leave. Windblown sheets of rain, nearly horizontal, assailed his cabin.

He went to the still-open door. Should he go after her? She might be an assassin—but then, she might not be. As suspicious as her behavior was, a couple of lumps on her neck weren't evidence of anything.

And really, how could she be Riorcan? She spoke Inyan without even the trace of an accent. He'd been to her home and seen her family.

He shook his head. The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. He could only conclude that he knew next to nothing about this woman he'd sired a child on. Pushing against the wind and grunting with the effort, he shoved the cabin door closed. From now on he was going to keep his distance.

•   •   •

The sky shone opalescent pink when Celeste reached the pier. Mist crept along the still waters, and the fog shone with the diffuse light of a rising sun. Out in the harbor, the masts and spars of the
Soldier's Sweep
were barely visible, a trio of bony skeletons rising from the haze.

Atella was following closer than usual, which was her habit when nervous. “This isn't a good idea. What if the assassins are about?”

“There aren't any,” said Celeste. “Justien rounded them all up night before last.” Except for two stragglers he was still searching for, and Zoe, and the other two in Inya, of course.

“You could see the sunrise from the Enclave building,” said Atella hopefully. “If you went up on the roof.”

“It's prettier here.” Celeste glanced around the foggy harbor. “It will be even prettier on the water. What's the point of coming all the way to Denmor if I can't see the beauty of the frigid north?” A couple of sailors stood watch over the rowboat that ferried passengers to and from the
Sweep
. “You there,” she called to one of them. “Ready that boat and take me out into the harbor.”

He bowed his head in obeisance. “To the
Sweep
, Your Imperial Highness?”

“Just into the harbor. I want to see the sun rise from the water.”

“Absolutely, miss.” He called to his fellows and they prepared the boat, removing some cargo, bailing out the bilge water, and uncoiling the rope from the pier. Soon four strong men sat in the boat, manning the oars, and two more waited on the pier to help Celeste and Atella in.

Celeste took the sailor's hand and stepped on board. A grumbling Atella followed.

The sailors plied the oars, and the boat slipped into the harbor. Celeste shivered in the chill morning air. Tendrils of fog washed over her, leaving her skin damp. She wouldn't mind a little Inyan fire magic right now. Or the company of a certain Inyan prince.

“Not much of a view here,” said the sailor, looking up into the mist-shrouded sky.

“Take me to the
Sweep,
then,” commanded Celeste. “Perhaps the view is better there.”

The boat changed direction. Celeste wrapped her arms around herself as the hull of the
Soldier's Sweep
emerged from the fog, at first in patches, and then all at once, an enormous wooden wall that loomed out of the haze. The sailor called to his fellows on the ship, and a rope ladder was dropped down to them. The sailors spun the boat and dragged their oars until the boat just kissed the side of the hull below the ladder.

“Will you need help with the ladder, Your Imperial Highness?” asked the sailor.

“Not at all. I'll go first, and Atella after me.”

She seized the highest rung she could reach and hauled herself upward until she could step onto the bottom rung. The ladder lurched sideways, but clung to the hull. Taking a deep breath, she began to climb, one rung after another, not looking down. An icy plunge into the ocean would be most unwelcome, especially with no fire mage to warm her. The ladder seemed endless, but she kept moving. When she reached the top, two sailors took her arms and gently lifted her on board.

“Thank you,” she said. As Atella joined her on deck, she projected a suggestion into the first sailor's head, and then the second:
I will do whatever the Imperial Princess tells me to do.
Then she said, “Haul up the anchor. We're setting sail.”

The sailors snapped their thumbs to their chests in salute. “Right away, Your Imperial Highness,” said one of them.

“What?” cried Atella.

“We're going to Inya to help Prince Rayn,” said Celeste.

“No.
Please
tell me you're not stealing the emperor's ship,” said Atella.

Celeste shook her head. “Don't worry. He won't be angry with you. Just with me.” And three gods, was he going to be furious when he learned what she was doing. She'd never defied him before, had never wanted to. He was good to her, and she loved him. But she was not going to leave Prince Rayn to fend off three assassins alone, especially when he didn't know that his former lover was one of them.

“You can't do it,” said Atella. “You can't use your magic on this many people at once.”

She rather suspected she could. Suggestions lasted a reasonable length of time; she just had to refresh them periodically. She moved among the ship's sailors, projecting her suggestion to each one in turn, ensuring their compliance with her plans.