Revenge (42 page)

Lauryn and Gidyon flanked him and he felt their love washing over him across the link.

Don’t be frightened,
Lauryn reassured.
A woman can never hate someone she truly loves.

Gidyon echoed her sentiments.
She will forgive you, Father.
Alyssa stepped away from Saxon and looked him in the face. He suddenly seemed very distant. She tried to read his expression: he was nervous. Cloot flapped away and Saxon cleared his throat, but it was Alyssa who spoke for him.

‘Whatever it is, Saxon, the problem will not go away by remaining silent.’

He nodded.

‘Is my father dead?’

‘No, Alyssa. I have not met with your father. That was a ruse.’

She tried to make it easy for him; could see he was genuinely struggling. Sallementro stepped up behind and took her arm but she gently shook herself free. ‘Then is it Goth? Are you afraid to tell me news about him?’

‘I have news on Goth but that is not why I called you out at the dead of night. It was true when I said I have brought someone to see you.’

And then he shocked her by kneeling. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Forgive me, my Queen, for what I bring back to your life tonight.’

It was a fanciful thing for Saxon to say and a thousand warnings klaxoned in her head. Alarm raced through every part of her. Saxon was afraid. Why? He had brought someone with him but he was so terrified he could not bring himself to say the name.

Go now, Tor,
Cloot whispered into his friend’s mind.
Our hearts and love walk with you.

Tor told the children to remain hidden until he called them, then he stepped out from behind the tree trunk. A twig snapped underfoot and he watched as the Queen of Tallinor swung around towards the sound.

Alyssa’s mind was racing with possibilities of who the mysterious visitor could be when she heard movement behind her and spun to see who was approaching. She saw the figure of a man who must have been concealed behind the trees. She felt Saxon stand up behind her, felt his arms reach for her, but she stepped forward to avoid them. The shape in the shadows was tall. His silhouette was achingly familiar. She was holding her breath and she wondered why the others were not deafened by the sound of her heart beating. It sounded to her as though its thunderous hammering could reach back to the palace and wake all within.

The man took two steps forward. It was impossible, but he reminded her of someone it just could not be. When he spoke, it confirmed that her mind was playing terrible games with her. Surely she was dreaming? She was in the midst of a horrific nightmare. Why was Saxon feeding it? And why was that man in the shadows talking with Torkyn Gynt’s voice and standing in Torkyn Gynt’s distinctive way?

‘Alyssa…it’s me. It’s Tor,’ the man said.

Tor
. She said his name silently in her head.

‘But…but Tor is dead.’ Her breath was suddenly ragged. ‘Saxon, what is this trick you play on me?’ she demanded, her voice quivering.

Saxon was at her side in one stride. ‘It is true, Alyssa. He lives.’

Sallementro had to steady himself by holding onto a tree. He could not believe what he was seeing or hearing.

Tor took another tentative step forward. A couple more and he would be able to reach out and touch her. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, even in the dimmest of the silvery moon’s light. And then he remembered whom he approached. She may be a little wild-eyed and breathing a little too shallowly, her chest moving like a startled sparrow, but she was the Queen of Tallinor. He was compelled to kneel and bow his head. ‘Your majesty.’

His formality snapped her from her state of terror but Alyssa continued to stare in deepest shock at the man she had always loved. She could no longer feel her own body; it was numb. It was truly him: beautiful Torkyn Gynt, the father of her dead son. The man who had torn her apart with love and then died courageously to save her. She had watched those stones break his head open. She had witnessed his blood gush forth and his life spill out with it. She had spent years in despair trying to come to terms with his loss.

And then, out of nowhere, she recalled Merkhud and his strange behaviour on the day of the execution. Those bright grey eyes of his had stared at her for too long, as though wanting to say something important, and yet when he had spoken, all he said was that she should consider Sallementro a friend.
And then he had blown her a kiss. Alyssa had thought his behaviour very strange and she remembered how Herek, who had been one of the guards, had commented on the old man’s odd action.

Then an impossible notion hit her; it felt as though a hundred punches had landed in her belly at once. Had the old man won again? Had that conniving old goat somehow stolen Tor from the brink of death?

She turned to look at Saxon, but his head was lowered and he would not meet her eyes. Sallementro, who was clearly not in on this wicked trickery, also stared at the ground.

Alyssa turned back to Tor. He remained kneeling and it seemed he too found the grass more interesting than her.

Grief roared up and threatened to choke the last breath out of her. Pain, anguish, anger—her three old companions—returned with glee.

She found her voice. ‘Stand up!’ she commanded. ‘Stand up and look at me, you betrayer!’

No one moved initially; her order had taken everyone by surprise. Then Tor stood.

‘Look into my eyes,’ she said.

Tor lifted his head. A cluster of tiny flames lit his face; they were never far from his call these days.

So it
had
been one of the Heartwood flames that she had seen earlier. Alyssa was trembling but she balled her hands into fists to steady herself. Once his face was illuminated by the flames, there was no mistaking who stood before her. Those impossibly blue eyes could belong to no one else but Torkyn
Gynt. She could even make out the livid scar which ran across his head, a legacy of the execution stones.

The shock boiled over. Alyssa took one step forward and swung. No one expected it, not even Tor. How she was able to reach so high was anyone’s guess but she hit his jaw so hard that he toppled backwards. And then the Queen began to weep; years of sorrow were loosed in a torrent.

Tor! Someone comes,
Cloot called urgently.

Gyl had searched the palace and its grounds with no luck and was now understandably anxious. The Queen was definitely no longer within the palace walls and the castle gates were closed. None of the guards had seen her or Sallementro pass through any of the courtyards. So where was she? He found himself back near the kitchens but outside this time. He felt sure that if she was to steal away, she would use this area to leave from. But why did she need to sneak off at all?

Then he heard a muffled yell coming from the small stand of trees beyond the mount, as the small hill was known. He did not wait for back-up but ran as hard as he could towards the sound. He was the Queen’s champion. If anyone had so much as touched a hair on his mother’s head, the perpetrator would pay on the spot with his life.

Gyl was fast. He pulled his sword, crashed into the small clearing of the trees and was totally arrested
by what he found. A tall, dark-haired man was climbing to his feet; he appeared to have been knocked to the ground. Sallementro was standing by him and there was Saxon—damn him all to hell, where had he suddenly arrived from? The Kloek was holding the Queen, who was crying.

‘What in the Light happens here?’ he demanded, his sword immediately at the throat of the dark stranger.

Saxon quickly spoke for all of them. Gyl looked wild enough to kill. ‘Gyl, the Queen is fine. She has received some shocking news and is upset. We need to get her back to the palace.’

Gyl looked from Saxon to Sallementro. There was furtiveness here but he could not see their faces clearly enough to read them properly. He trusted Saxon with his own life and knew his mother did with hers. There was no reason in the world not to trust him now.

‘You!’ he said, pressing his blade against the stranger’s throat. ‘Who are you?’

Tor opened his mouth to speak but it was Alyssa who answered for him. She sounded regal and back in control. ‘Gyl, he is a friend. He brings me news of the past. I expect you to treat him as you would any honoured guest.’

Gyl hesitated a moment but pulled his sword back and sheathed it. He walked over to Alyssa. ‘Are you all right, mother?’

She mustered a smile but her eyes were still watery. ‘I am sorry I hoodwinked you, son.’ She
touched his cheek. ‘I just felt you were being overly protective. I am well. Will you escort us back, please?’

She turned back to Tor; her bright tone rang false. ‘Come, old friend, we have things to discuss.’

‘Er, your majesty,’ he responded.

All eyes turned to him.

‘I…I have travelling companions. May I bring them with me?’

Saxon closed his eyes with despair. If they thought that Alyssa meeting Tor again was hard, what was coming next was sure to break her.

‘As you wish. All are welcome,’ she said, a little too lightly, but her voice was steady and she kept her head high. She linked her arm through Gyl’s and moved forward with Sallementro not far behind.

Pull your hoods up,
Tor warned his children and they obeyed. They tiptoed from where they were concealed and walked alongside their father and Saxon, following the diminutive figure of their mother, the Queen of Tallinor.

Cloot remained in the copse. He did not envy them all what was yet to come.

The group arrived at the Queen’s chambers in an awkward silence and filed in. Alyssa paid no attention to the two hooded figures who followed Tor. She was barely hanging onto her own composure as it was and did not care about the strangers who accompanied him.

‘Gyl, thank you,’ she said and kissed him. ‘I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you. Can I press upon you once more, to muster up one of the maids? I am sure we could all use some refreshment.’

The Under Prime was so confused by his mother’s odd behaviour and her strange visitors that he complied without argument.

Saxon followed him out of the Queen’s rooms and called to him.

The soldier turned on him. ‘You owe me an explanation, Sax. What the hell is this all about?’ he asked in a grim whisper.

Saxon could tell Gyl was about as angry as someone could be yet he managed to control the emotion. The boy had grown up. He faced a man now and one who was due the respect his status demanded.

‘I do owe you an explanation.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s very complicated, Gyl, but trust your mother. This all harks back to her former life, before she was even living in Tal. I promise you, she is in no danger from these people. They bring news she will want to hear. Allow them some privacy. Sallementro and I will keep guard outside until you return.’

Gyl nodded, none the wiser for listening to his friend. ‘No one goes in or out without my permission, Sax. Do we understand one another?’

‘Very clearly, sir,’ Saxon said and noted that Gyl looked suddenly abashed at the respect his former mentor was paying him.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ the Under Prime said, in a less commanding manner and glared at Sallementro who had just come out of the Queen’s rooms.

The musician sighed. The only comfort he could offer was that he was as confused as Gyl was. The musician closed the door softly behind him and hoped the King would return soon and, with him, sanity.

Inside the Queen’s chambers the four stood in uncomfortable silence.

Alyssa waited for the door to close. Then, before Tor could say anything, she spoke, determined to wrest back control of herself and the situation. ‘Will you introduce me to your friends, Tor?’ Her voice was like icy shards dropping on him.

Tor thought of Orlac’s warning on the hilltop and the reality of his vengeance. They were still no closer to the Trinity. The Colours blazed inside him as he felt anger at all the pain and grief his life seemed to bring to others. Then he pushed aside his despair. Whatever else happened tonight, Alyssa would be given the gift of her children. He could do this for her. He ran his fingers through his hair, knowing there was absolutely no turning back now. But there was no easy way to say it; no gentle means of breaking such news to someone who had already survived one shock that night. He must tell the truth in all its stark simplicity.

‘Alyssa.’ He saw her stiffen at him saying her name but he pressed on. ‘This is Gidyon and Lauryn…they are my children.’

The Queen’s spirit died a thousand deaths. Children. So he had married and been given the gift of children, one which she had not been blessed with. So be it. She dug her nails into her palms and delved deep inside herself to find new strength. She was not going to cry at his news. She forced herself to turn towards the two people who stood silently near the window.

They pulled back their hoods and bowed. Together they said, ‘Your majesty.’

The candle glow was low in her rooms, as she preferred at night, but there was absolutely no mistaking the son of Torkyn Gynt, who straightened now and stood before her. She drank in his appearance and fought back the recognition that this was how Tor had looked that day when he caught her posy of flowers. Fresh-faced and brilliantly handsome, the boy Gidyon even possessed identical, disarmingly blue eyes. She wanted to hate him and hate the mother who had borne him in love for his father, but she could not.

Gidyon stepped forward. He was in totally unknown territory now. He had no idea what his father expected, or when the truth would be revealed, but he could not allow his beautiful, tragic mother to stand before him and not touch her. He took her small, elegant hand, bent low and kissed it.

The Queen battled with her emotions. He was every bit as beautiful as his father. She could not look at Tor at this moment. Instead, she took a long, silent, steadying breath and pulled back her hand. She felt the kiss still lingering on it.

Now she turned her attention to the girl. This was a shock. Honey-golden hair gleamed against the perfectly oval face which sat above a petite frame. The Light strike her! Was she imagining it?

Before the girl could make a move or show her respect, Tor moved forwards to stand alongside the Queen. Alyssa could not bear for him to be this close. The conflict between loving him still and hating him passionately for his betrayal was raging inside her, but she was coping with rather too much just now to
deal with it. Her eyes were riveted on his gorgeous daughter, Lauryn, whose own grey-green eyes regarded her nervously.

Tor touched her arm. It was an intimate gesture and she felt as though that part of her arm sizzled from the contact. His voice was soft now. ‘Alyssa, does Lauryn remind you of anyone?’

The words caught in her throat but she forced them out with an effort. ‘Dare I say that…Lauryn reminds me of…of me?’ she said, finally looking into those blue eyes.

And now the unthinkable. He reached his arms around her and brought her close against his chest. How could she allow this? How could she permit this man whom she wanted to despise to touch her with such familiarity? Tor kissed the top of her soft, golden-haired head. She felt weak at his touch…but welcomed it.

‘She should remind you of yourself, my love. She is your daughter…our daughter. And Gidyon is our son.’

There. It was said.

Frozen silence reigned for what felt like eternity as the Queen’s mouth opened and shut again and her sad eyes darted from son to daughter and back. The children did not know what to do so they remained quiet; it was best to take their lead from their father right now.

A soft knock was heard at the door. It brought Alyssa out of her trance-like shock. One hand went to her hip; the other covered her mouth to stifle any
sound. Tor saw her gulp. She closed her eyes and composed herself. He had watched her do something very similar on the day of his execution. He knew she would survive this. She was brave and strong.

The Queen looked at no one. In silence she went to the door, opened it and allowed her maid to enter with a tray.

‘Hurry, Nelly,’ she said. ‘Over on that table is fine. I’ll take care of it.’

The girl quickly placed the tray where she was told and scurried out of the door, forgetting to curtsy. The Queen did not notice. She turned back into the room, lacing her fingers together as if by doing so she could force all nervous movement to stop.

‘How can this be, Tor?’ she said, surprisingly evenly. ‘If these were the children I bore in the Heartwood, they would barely be out of infancy.’

‘May we sit, your majesty?’ he asked. ‘We have travelled a long way today.’

‘Please,’ she offered. ‘My apologies. Lauryn, perhaps you might pour everyone some wine.’

Lauryn was relieved to have something to do. She felt as if she was about to explode and if it were not for Gidyon in her head, calming her down, making her show patience, she was sure she would let everything spill out. She nodded, smiled a little nervously and walked to the table, past the Queen, who stiffly sat on the window bench.

‘Now tell me,’ she said, looking hard at Tor.

While Lauryn passed around goblets of wine, Tor began to relate the story of the children’s birth. Alyssa
felt as if her heart was breaking and the grief she had stored inside for so long flooded her body. As Tor’s soft voice told her of what had happened after the birthing, she began to cry.

Gidyon could no longer bear it. He dared to move and sit alongside the Queen, taking his mother into his arms and holding her close as she wept for the son she thought was dead and the daughter she had never known about.

Tor’s voice broke too. Slowly, he told his terrible tale, about the ordeal of trying to find her again, only to discover she had been captured by Goth. When he spoke of the execution, he faltered and it was Lauryn who comforted him and encouraged him to finish.

Finally Tor explained Merkhud’s Spiriting.

‘I guessed only tonight that it was you in Merkhud’s body, wasn’t it?’ Alyssa said, her eyes sore and red from her tears. Her nose was running too; she must look a fright, she thought.

‘I…I just didn’t know what to say to you. There were so many people around us.’

She nodded, resigned to her life of ongoing sorrow. ‘Go on.’

He told her everything. How he had been brought back to life; how he had flown within Cloot to track down Goth; Cloot’s capture; the voyage to Cipres; how he had finally found Cloot and then, on returning to the Heartwood, had finally been reunited with his children.

Alyssa sat cradled in her silent son’s arms; when the words came out she could not believe how calm
she sounded. ‘Where have you both been all this time?’

Lauryn realised the question was being addressed to her. She shrugged. ‘Sorrel took us to another world, a place where time passes differently. Neither of us can remember, I’m sorry. Sorrel said we would forget…and we have.’

Alyssa shook her head sadly. ‘Sorrel,’ she said. ‘So she took you both away?’

‘With the help of the Heartwood,’ Tor said quickly. ‘To safety. Alyssa, can you recall what a terrifying time that was for all of us?’

‘I can’t. I don’t remember anything from that time really, except being happy with you in the Heartwood and then the reality of your execution. In between is just a blur.’ She turned to look at Gidyon. ‘I saw your tiny dead body.’

Tor spoke gently. ‘You saw a glamour, Alyssa. It was meant to make you believe your baby was dead…for your own protection, Lys said.’

‘I hate Lys,’ she replied and it was clear she meant it.

Tor wondered if Alyssa would say that if she knew who Lys was to her. He ground his teeth with anger at how Lys played with their lives.

‘Where is Sorrel now?’ Alyssa suddenly said.

The three travellers looked to each other awkwardly. Tor spoke. ‘We believe she is dead. Like Merkhud, her time was up, I think.’

A new wave of sadness swept through Alyssa. Another death. Another loved one gone.

‘How much more of this is there, Tor?’

‘There is more but it can wait. You now know what I came here to tell you and I should leave.’

She was startled. Leave?

‘No,’ she said, ‘I will not permit it. You will all stay here and we shall talk some more.’

The Queen shook her head again with disbelief as she regarded the two children, now on their feet. ‘I am so glad you ca—’ She could not finish. She began to sob.

Tor, Lauryn and Gidyon put their arms around her and shared her sorrow for all that they had lost as a family.

After seeing to his mother’s wishes, Gyl did a quick round of the Guard. He was too fired up to return to the Queen’s chambers just yet. He trusted Saxon and Sallementro; knew they would not allow any harm to come to her.

He turned to his paperwork and began to sort out some of the messages from the surrounding districts. He was pleased to read that the King was making his way back to Tal and should arrive the following day. Just as he was giving orders for a party of the Shield to greet the King a day’s ride from the city and escort him back, he heard a disturbance.

‘See to that, Brash, would you,’ he said.

The man left the guardhouse and returned a few moments later. ‘It’s an old woman, sir.’

‘Well, give her some soup, man, and get someone to show her the outhouse where she can rest up.’

‘Sir, she demands entry to see the Queen.’

Gyl swung around. ‘The Queen?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Do you know what the time is? Send the old twit on her way. She can make her request through the normal procedures in the morning. Don’t bother me with this.’

‘Sir, she looks half dead. I don’t think she can walk another step. She…er…she says, sir, that she is Queen Alyssa’s former guardian.’

‘Pigs bollocks! Someone will suffer for this,’ Gyl said, his night’s frustration spilling over. ‘Where is she?’

‘At the main gate, sir.’

‘Right,’ he said. He strode off, muttering. ‘If you want something done properly, do it yourself.’

At the main gate, he found a small, very frail-looking old woman. She seemed vaguely familiar but he dismissed the thought in his anger.

‘Now, look, madam. It is past the thirteen bells. Her majesty sleeps,’ he lied. ‘And we have no intention of waking up the Queen to speak with you. Do you understand?’

The old crone pointed a long, bony finger through the iron grille and croaked at him. ‘You are the one who does not understand, young man. Tell the Queen it is Sorrel. She will permit my entry at any time of the day or night.’

‘I will not do any such thing,’ Gyl said, furious with the night’s proceedings and people who seemed
to think they could usurp his authority and do precisely what they wanted with palace security. ‘Go away and return tomorrow.’

She ignored him. ‘Is Saxon Fox here?’

‘Sax?’ That surprised him. ‘Look, who are you?’ he asked, realising too late she had already told him. He glanced around at the men, who looked everywhere but at their leader.

The old woman was gracious enough to say nothing more. Gyl considered his position; he felt he was handling this badly. In fact, he had handled the whole of the night badly.

‘Fetch the Kloek,’ he said to one of the men, wearily. ‘He is outside the Queen’s chambers.’ He turned back to the old woman. ‘If he vouches for you, you may enter.’

The children munched on the cheeses, nuts and fruit which were on the tray and talked quietly at one end of Alyssa’s long salon. They were both relieved that the dreaded meeting was behind them.

Lauryn was taken aback at how very young and beautiful her mother still was. Why she had imagined someone much older, she could not think. Her mother had not touched her yet, but Lauryn instinctively sensed she was frightened. Frightened of all the pent-up emotions. She needed to be seen as one who was in control. She was Queen of this realm, after all. And they had plenty of time to get to know
one another. Lauryn was looking forward to it. For now, she was just pleased to see her parents talking to one another.