The Black Queen (Book 6) (40 page)

Ace sat on a nearby bed, his fingers laced together. He was watching her. He barely looked up as Lyndred entered. Bridge found that interesting.

Kir stood near the door. She took Bridge’s arm. “You need to speak with her alone, but do not tire her. Her name is Cassandra. She was born on Nye, but her parents took her to Blue Isle with Rugad’s fleet. She’s been there ever since.”

So she was from Blue Isle. He felt an excitement in his belly. Something was happening.

“Did she say why Arianna sent her?”

Kir shook her head. “There’s something strange about that, I would say. But she won’t talk to me. I told her she needed to talk with you, that you’re Black Family, and she has to do as you say. Don’t tire her. She flew beyond her breaking point and she’s devastated about failing her mission.”

“Well, she hasn’t failed yet,” he said. “Clear the room for me.”

“Not too much time,” Kir cautioned.

“I promise,” he said.

She took Ace’s arm and got him up. When he finally saw Lyndred, he smiled. She smiled too, but her eyes were for the Gull Rider on the bed. Kir spoke to Lyndred softly. Lyndred looked at her father, an appeal to stay all over her face. He shook his head slightly, and she sighed. Then she followed Ace out of the room. The other Domestic left as well.

“Will you stay?” he asked Kir.

“I’ll be right outside the door.” And then she, too, left.

He walked over to the built-in bed. It was shaped like his, long and fairly narrow, but with a deep area for a mattress. It was one of the most comfortable beds he had ever slept in; its three walls and small ceiling made him feel as if he were in a cave, and the rocking of the ship soothed him.

Cassandra did not look soothed. She looked terrified. Her bird’s eyes were still closed, the wings immobile, but she had propped her Fey torso up by her elbows, even though it clearly took effort. She wore a small shirt that someone had dug up, or had made quickly, and her hair—now dry—spilled about her shoulders. Her eyes were sunken with exhaustion, and her lips were still an odd shade of blue.

He sat on the main part of the bed, not too close to the pillow. “Hi,” he said, making sure he spoke very gently. “My name is Bridge. I’m Rugar’s son, and Arianna’s uncle.”

“Cassandra,” she said in a small voice. He had to strain to hear her. “I need some help. I need to leave. I have a mission—”

“I gathered that,” he said. “But you’re very far from land, and you’re not going to make it to Nye without help. We’re heading to Blue Isle, and we can’t turn around. If I knew what your mission was, perhaps then—”

She was shaking her head long before he finished. “I swore I’d go. I promised.”

“You’ll die, then,” he said. “You aren’t trained for this sort of work. You’re lucky you found us.”

She eased off her elbows and lay back on the pillow. Her small face had gone an alarming shade of gray. She closed her eyes, and he was about to call for Kir when he saw a tear slid down Cassandra’s cheek.

“I promised,” she said.

“I know.” He spoke to her as gently as he once spoke to Lyndred, when she was young and disappointed and in over her depth. “But there are ways to fulfill your promise, even now.”

Her eyes opened and she sat up, only to moan and lay back down, a hand on her forehead.

“We can give your assignment to one of our Gull Riders, who’ll complete it for you. You’ll have to promise to serve in that Rider’s place, and do that Rider’s duties once you’re well.”

Her sigh was small. “I have a written message and a verbal one. I promised I’d be the one to give the messages, and no one else would touch them.”

“The other Rider,” he said, “would, in effect, become you. I don’t have to know the message if it’s that secret.”

But he wanted to. His father, he knew, would have found out, and so would his grandfather. But Bridge had always been a different sort of man, not as cunning and not as ruthless. The Rider’s distress wouldn’t have affected his father. It bothered Bridge.

“It’s a long mission,” she said. “I’ve only just started.”

And she fell, exhausted already. “When did you leave the Isle?”

“Five days ago.”

“You made excellent time.” And that, he knew, was part of the problem. She had gone too fast too soon, not knowing that the long distance fliers paced themselves. Someone would have to train her. What was happening on the Isle that not even the Bird Riders knew how to use their best skills?

She plumped up a small section of her pillow. “I can’t even move the gull parts,” she said. “And your Healer—”

“Kir.”

“Kir said that I won’t be able to take Fey form for several days. I didn’t mean to have this happen. I’m not sure how it did. I have to get to Vion.”

“I know,” he said. “We’ll get your message there. I promise.”

There was such sadness on her face. He knew what it was like to fail. He had done so more often than he cared to think about, so often that his father had told him he was worthless.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded. “You’re welcome.” Then he stood. “I’ll have Kir come back.”

“Um, sir? Bridge?” In the formality he heard a bit of Blue Isle. The Fey never gave each other titles of respect.

“Yes?”

She propped herself on the pillow so that she was higher. He crouched anyway.

“Are you going to Blue Isle?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Were you summoned?”

What an odd question. He shook his head. “I just decided it was time to see Arianna.”

And even odder that he answered it. But he felt a kinship with this girl, something tied to her failure, he supposed, or her deep regret.

“Why do you ask?” he said.

Her small lips pursed. “I think it’s good that someone from the Black Family go to Blue Isle.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Nothing they’ve told me.” Her dark gaze met his. Without revealing her message, she was telling him something important. She was giving it to him for his kindness to her. “But I’ve heard things.”

“What sort of things?”

“The Black Queen is ill. She collapsed outside a meeting, and when I left, no one had seen her for over a day.”

He felt a discomfort at that. Arianna was still a young woman, about the age of his oldest son. “Are you sure it’s illness?”

“No,” Cassandra said. “But I think it’s important. Especially since they’re sending me to Vion.”

Vion. That was what she was trying to tell him. The Eccrasian Mountains were in Vion, and he had heard that young Gift went there years ago to become a Shaman. Bridge had thought that odd; no member of the Black Family had ever become a Shaman before.

“To find Gift?” he asked, knowing that she wouldn’t answer. “He’s the heir, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know affairs of state,” she said. “All I know is the gossip from the Isle. And I think it’s good to have the Black Family close. I’ve been worried.”

Which was why she flew so hard, why she nearly killed herself out in the middle of nowhere.

He brushed a thumb against her small forehead. “Thank you,” he said. “Rest now.”

“I will.” She eased back onto the pillow and closed her eyes, the expression of pain still on her face.

He walked past the bunks to the door. Kir was outside of it. “She’s resting,” he said as he passed.

Kir smiled at him, asked no questions, and disappeared inside the room.

The only other person in the narrow corridor was his daughter. She was sitting on the wooden stairs, her head against the banister. He didn’t want to see her right now. He had to take care of his promise to Cassandra.

Lyndred patted the stair beside her. He didn’t sit. “Lyndred,” he said. “I need to—”

“Talk to me first,” she said. “It’ll only take a moment.”

He sighed. “What?”

“That Gull Rider, she has a mission to finish, right?”

He felt himself grow cold. Sometimes his daughter was too smart by half. “Right.”

“And she can’t do it.”

“That’s right.”

“So you’re going to send Ace.”

Caught. It had seemed an elegant solution to his problem. Besides, Ace was good at his work, properly trained, and trustworthy. “Yes.”

Lyndred stood. With the help of the stair, she was taller than he was. “I suppose it’ll do no good to ask you to send someone else. You’ll just do what you want.”

“Is there a reason he shouldn’t go?” Bridge asked.

“You mean besides the fact that I want him to stay?” Lyndred shook her head. “You just want him out of here so that he’ll leave me alone.”

“No,” he said. “This is what Bird Riders do. They go on missions for their commanders. They’re gone for weeks, months, sometimes years at a time.”

“So you’re trying to teach me a lesson.”

“In part, maybe,” he said. “But the lesson is different from the one you’re expecting.”

“What is it, then?” There was a hint of anger to her tone, a hint of I-will-not-listen-no-matter-what-you-say.

“It’s this,” he said. “If you truly feel something for him, and he truly feels something for you, then those feelings will still be there when he gets back.”

Her lips thinned, and she shook her head. She obviously knew that the argument was too logical to fight, but she wanted to. She took a breath. “If I hadn’t brought him to your attention, would you have sent him?”

“I don’t know,” Bridge said honestly. “Maybe not. But he’s one of the younger Gull Riders I have and he’s strong. He needs to go to Vion for this mission, and that’s a long way from here. I need a good Gull Rider, and I need one I can trust. Ace fits that. And I learned that thanks to you.”

Color filled her cheeks. “It’s not fair, you know. We had a good talk on deck about my future and now you screw it up.”

“No,” he said. “I’m living my life, just as I told you to live yours. Now, I need to find Ace because he has to leave. This matter nearly killed one Gull Rider. I think we should honor her and make sure her message gets delivered.”

Lyndred tilted her head slightly. That last had clearly gotten through to her. “You know what the message is?”

“She didn’t tell me,” Bridge said. “But she gave me enough sideways information that I can guess. They’re calling Gift home. It seems Arianna is ill. It’s good that we’re going to Blue Isle.”

Lyndred’s eyes narrowed. For the first time ever, he saw her great-grandfather in her face. It wasn’t in her looks, but in that slight expression of cunning that passed across her features before she could cover the look up.

“So why deliver the message? Maybe we should be the ones who’re there.”

He met her gaze, his heart pounding. “Are you willing to take the Black Throne by deception, Lynnie?” He purposely used her childhood name, trying to remind her just how young she was. “Are you able to keep Gift away and prevent the Blood against Blood? Are you strong enough, smart enough, and cunning enough to do that? Because if you are, I’ll stop the message from leaving this ship.”

“Would you help me?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. Would he? Opportunities like this came very rarely. “Of course,” he said. “But let me give you your first lesson in cunning. My grandfather always said the only way to make sure that the Blood remained calm was to make certain you never got the blame for family matters.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means,” he said, “that we send Ace. We make sure he finds Gift and delivers the message. And while he does, we double our pace to Blue Isle. Even if Gift moves quickly, even if he has help, he cannot get to Blue Isle before us.”

“But what if she dies after he arrives?”

Good question. These were the nuances of manipulation that he always screwed up.

“Maybe we should send an older Gull Rider,” she said, “one not as good, one who might not make it. Then, if the Rider fails, no one will blame us.”

She learned fast. It had taken him years to begin to understand the deviousness that motivated the rest of his family. His father had been long dead when she was born, and his grandfather left when she was small. Perhaps a select handful in his family were just born that way, devious and brilliant in equal measures.

“It’s a great plan,” he said, “but we don’t have any Riders like that. I saw no point in bringing them.”

She sighed. “Then we don’t send anyone.”

He shook his head. “Cassandra will know.”

His daughter’s gaze met his. The look in her eyes chilled him.

“Even if she doesn’t live,” he said, “others will remember her. Word will get out. No. We send Ace, just as we planned. We do everything correctly. And then, when he’s gone, we head to Blue Isle as fast as these ships will take us. No more leisure cruise. We will get there in half the time.”

Lyndred smiled, then she reached over, and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re more devious than you give yourself credit for, Daddy.”

He shook his head. “I’m not devious enough. Your grandfather would have made more of this, somehow.”