Revenge (29 page)

Alyssa thanked Tilly absentmindedly for the steaming cup of raspberry leaf tea. It was unlike her to be vague. Tilly took note that her mistress had barely touched her breakfast tray this morning and that the daily ritual of bathing and then brushing her hair for exactly one hundred strokes was not peppered with its usual lighthearted banter. And what was she doing up this early? Light! It meant they all had a long day ahead when the Queen rose at this hour.

It was true. Alyssa did feel distant this morning. It was not just that Lorys was away from her—on official business in Hatten—for the first time since declaring his love, or that life seemed suddenly incomplete without his blustering, irresistible
company. No, it was not that at all. Today was definitely different, she mused, putting her cup down.

She had awoken with a start. Morning had barely announced itself and only a few bright slashes across the charcoal sky told her another late wintry day was emerging. Now, staring out of the window to the lush, heather-laden hills, she realised she was thinking of Tor. At one time he had been constantly in her thoughts; now she had to concentrate to put all the features of his face together accurately in her mind.

He had been so irritatingly handsome, had he not? She smiled. His dark, almost black, hair had been thick and straight and he had a habit of running his fingers through it when he was thinking. She recalled his strong jaw and the impossibly blue eyes in that lovely face, which had once made her heart pound simply by casting a glance her way. She never wanted to lose the memory of his face. And yet she had, to some degree. It had been four, no, five cycles since she had last seen it—smashed by the stones and gushing his precious blood. She had been forced to watch him die; had seen his chest heave in one last courageous effort to remain of this Land, and then he was gone. She would never forget his bloodied face.

His voice was gone for ever too, and that was almost the hardest part. She had loved his voice most of all; it was what she had fallen in love with first when he teased her as a young child across the link. A smile of regret played around her mouth and she inwardly chided herself for indulging thoughts of him.

Alyssa’s life had been filled with misery and toil since early childhood. The only brightness in it was Tor. When she lost him the first time, she had found solace at the Academie in Caremboche. Alyssa denied that she had found complete peace there, because Tor had always been in her thoughts, but she had been able to escape through her work in the Academie archives and Saxon, Sorrel and even Xantia had provided companionship in those early years.

When Tor returned to her life it had been a gift from the gods, she was certain of it. And their short married life in the Heartwood had been blissful; truly the happiest period of her life. But it was so brief. Just long enough for her womb to quicken and her son to grow inside her; the same son who took his final breath so soon after his birth.

And then the misery and destruction began again. Goth came back to taunt her; followed by the crippling pain of witnessing Tor’s execution and then the terrible loneliness of her life at the palace. If it had not been for the friendship of Saxon and Sallementro in those first two years, she was sure she would have ended her pathetic life.

But Tor was dead, long dead, and it did her no good to dwell on her first love. She was married to King Lorys now and Queen of Tallinor. She had a duty to Lorys and a future running this Kingdom alongside him, and, in truth, she had found love again. Alyssa would never have dreamed it possible, but she
did
love Lorys and he surely worshipped her. It had been a wonderful few months since they had
finally been able to proclaim their love throughout the Kingdom and beyond. Alyssa considered Lorys as her salvation. She knew it was a strange notion after despising him for so long, but it truly was Lorys who had made her believe that her life was important to Tallinor and that there was a future for her here. She did not want anything to rupture this perfect life now that she had finally achieved it. She wanted to reign beside Lorys and be in his arms until their gods claimed them. It was true that she had known perfect love with Tor, and she would never try to compare her love for Lorys with that, yet in this marriage she knew complete peace for the first time in her life.

Tor was dead. Lorys was alive and loved her totally. She could not help returning that love and she told herself that she must learn to forgive the guilt she felt at odd times, like now, when Tor claimed her mind so powerfully and so unexpectedly.

It was only then she remembered what had awoken her with such a fright. The Land had spoken to her.

Alyssa pulled her rose-coloured silk wrap around herself more tightly and settled into an armchair to think. It was the sudden shift in the Land’s power which had called her from her peaceful sleep. And that was why Tor had slipped into her mind. Clearly no one else had felt the shift or her young and excitable maid, Tilly, would have been near hysterical. No, Alyssa thought, this was connected with the Trinity somehow. The Writings of Nanak and the story of Orlac crept back into her
thoughts. She had hoped she could put them aside when she started her new life with Lorys. How stupid of her! Orlac was coming back and this was a warning.

She felt suddenly cold and curled her fingers around the comforting warmth of her cup. She sipped the bittersweet tea but did not taste it; her mind was elsewhere. What could have caused the shift in the Land’s balance, she wondered. Had the last of the Paladin fallen? Saxon was not here to ask. Her protector had been gone now for almost three moons.

Taking another sip of the cooling raspberry leaf brew, Alyssa accepted that the shift had to be connected with the gods. She put her cup down and touched her thumbs together to ward against bad luck, trying to dismiss the notion that the Tenth might have fallen. Surely she would have felt a tragedy as great as that deep in her soul? Perhaps something had entered the Land and disrupted its balance? Surely not Orlac. Not yet! She stood and paced in an attempt to empty her head of the terrible vision of Orlac’s escape, but still she spent another hour in distracted thought before finally forcing herself to dress. She did not feel any wiser for all the mind effort.

She chose a simple buttery yellow gown of fine wool, cinched modestly at the waist with her favourite chain belt. Although she preferred her hair plaited neatly, Alyssa did not want Tilly fussing around again, so she pulled her hair back with a clasp of polished antler. Her ablutions complete, she
considered how to occupy herself at this early hour in a way that would stem any opportunity to think further about Torkyn Gynt, Orlac or anything connected with the Trinity.

She just wanted to be a happily married wife; a fitting Queen for her King. She did not want to think on the prophecy of Orlac’s return. She took a deep breath and forced her mind to consider her options for the day.

She could tour the castle, possibly watch cook prepare the bread, and then head up into the battlements to pass a few pleasantries with the guards. She knew this was where her popularity lay: the proletariat of Tallinor, particularly in and around Tal, was besotted with their Queen Alyssa.

Directly after their marriage, Lorys had made the wise decision to journey to the major towns once again, this time with Alyssa by his side. He knew it was the only way his subjects would accept a new Queen so soon after the death of their beloved Queen Nyria. It had worked. Alyssa’s beauty and gentle, modest manner had captivated her subjects; she charmed everyone from the villagers to their children. And her obvious intelligence and wit made her equally at home amongst the aristocracy.

Alyssa fidgeted uncharacteristically, struggling to make a decision, when there was a soft knock at her door.

‘Come,’ she replied and moved to look out of the large window in response to the clattering of troops arriving in the main yard.

Her personal aide, Rolynd, made his apologies for disturbing her at this early hour. ‘Your majesty, the troops have returned,’ he said, bowing low.

‘His highness?’ asked Alyssa, her cheeks flushing as she whipped around from the window. She had missed Lorys dreadfully these two Eighthdays. No need for a stroll along the battlements on this chilly morning if he had returned. He would be her distraction. She could leave her crowded mind to itself and be entertained by his stories, his wonderful laugh and his limitless affection. His presence was all she needed to dispel this mood and increasing sense of anxiety.

‘I’m sorry, your majesty, but apparently King Lorys will not be returning immediately. I am informed that he is paying a visit to Lord Tolly, who is gravely ill. The King’s Guard has remained in Parkeston to escort his highness home afterwards…’ The sentence trailed off as he saw the Queen’s face display its disappointment.

‘Thank you, Rolynd.’ She turned away.

‘Er…your majesty, the Under Prime wishes to speak with you. He is waiting in the vestibule.’

‘Oh! Send him in immediately.’ Alyssa brightened at the news that Gyl was back in residence. He too had been away far too long.

Rolynd bowed again and left, quietly closing the double doors into the Queen’s suite.

Alyssa seated herself in her favourite chair overlooking the pretty walled garden which the King had commissioned for her and awaited the arrival of
her other favourite man. She could hear his rhythmic footsteps as he drew closer to her suite and she smiled, imagining the arrogant swagger and confident manner which caused most of the court’s younger ladies to tremble with desire. Since his new appointment, Gyl seemed to have grown remarkably in stature, confidence and, above all, eligibility.

Alyssa had no intention of marrying Gyl off to any of these swooning ladies. She would know the right girl when she presented herself…and so would he. Gyl was a dreadful flirt and played with his admirers’ emotions without hesitation. Alyssa gratefully noted, however, that he gave no special attention to any of them, which reassured her that he too was not considering early marriage. Light! The lad was just sixteen summers; he had a whole lifetime ahead to find the right woman to lose his heart to.

Alyssa conveniently pushed away the fact that she had fallen in love with Torkyn Gynt at the age of nine summers and was just fourteen summers when she threw him her posy at Minstead Green. If he had got around to asking for her hand that day, she would have said yes and happily married him by sunset. But that question was never asked. Merkhud had taken Tor’s attention from her and then lured him to Tal, setting them all on a path to destruction.

Gyl was almost at her door. She could hear his voice now, joking with the guards Lorys insisted she maintain at the entrance to her chambers. Aside from the King, only Alyssa knew Gyl’s true story. When Lorys had revealed his secret that he was the boy’s
father, Alyssa had immediately wanted Gyl to be told too, but she soon came to accept Lorys’s conviction that they should keep it to themselves. At the time, there had been a great deal happening in Gyl’s life and they had agreed it would be too much to tell him of his real background. But Alyssa knew they must not wait too long; keeping such knowledge from him could perhaps cause even more damage in the long run.

The doors opened and as Alyssa opened her arms to hug her son, all thoughts of the powerful disturbance which had woken her went out of her mind.

It was as Tor, Saxon and Cloot were journeying back towards Cipres that they sensed the shift in the Land’s balance.

‘Did you feel that?’ Saxon said.

Tor’s mind immediately fled to Orlac.

Cloot, has the Tenth fallen?
Tor sounded alarmed; he was not ready for this news yet.

The calming voice of Cloot eased into his mind.
I don’t believe so, Tor. It doesn’t feel bad, just like some sort of disturbance, wouldn’t you agree?

He did agree, now that he dwelled on it. And then, as though sunlight had suddenly beamed through the cloudy skies, Tor’s heart soared. He fell to his knees and opened his arms to the heavens. ‘My children,’ he said. ‘They have returned to Tallinor.’

In the Heartwood, the trees, animals and its special magical creatures rejoiced.

‘They are close,’ Solyana said.

Arabella wept, overwhelmed by the knowledge that the Land’s most precious charges were returning to where they truly belonged.

Sallementro, tuning his lute in his favourite stone hut in the hills behind the Tal palace, felt the shift.

Adongo of the Moruks stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes to listen to the Land.

Figgis the Rock Dweller, Ninth of the Paladin, on a ship just docking at Caradoon, also felt the shift. He resolved to travel south as fast as possible.

All knew the Trinity was gathering, finding its rightful place, drawing its protectors back to their destiny.

Alyssa’s true son, the one she quietly grieved for, felt the wind knocked out of him as he rolled onto the ground in Tallinor. Gidyon looked around in stunned disbelief and took a few moments to steady himself and his breathing. Sorrel had said they would arrive together but he had known before opening his eyes that he was alone. So their journey through the portals had not gone to plan.

He took another good look around. He was in a field, which he shared with a few startled cows who
moved away briskly, disturbed by the sudden appearance of a stranger in their midst.

He closed his eyes, shook his head and opened them again. The cows were still ambling away. He was definitely no longer in Sorrel’s cottage but sitting winded in a field somewhere. All she had told them was true then.

Everything felt strange. It was not a bad feeling but it was odd. His weak eyes were suddenly providing him with perfect vision: he could see every detail of the lined bark of that tree at the far edge of the field, further than he would ever have thought possible. And the sounds of the birds chattering seemed somehow sharper. What was happening? And was this where Sorrel had spoken of bringing them?