The King of Forever (Scarlet and the White Wolf, #4) (13 page)

“I’ve sat here enough,” Scarlet said. He tried to rise and Liall pushed him back down.

“No, you have not,” Liall said. “You’re snapping at everyone, even Nenos. You need some light.”

“I
need
some peace!” Scarlet flung his hand toward the door. “And the sun has returned, you know. I don’t need to come in here anymore.”

“You do if you refuse to go outside.”

Scarlet wanted to. He wanted to hunt and ride, but to do that he needed his horse. Jarad Hallin or one of the Tebet people were always in the stables, pampering Ressilka’s white horses, never passing up an opportunity to make some remark that set Scarlet’s blood to boiling. He had taken to holing up in his rooms, drinking wine, looking at books he could not read, and staring into the fire as if it held answers.

“I’m happy where I am,” he muttered.

“Like hell you are. You’re sulking.”

“And you’re an ass. Now go away and do whatever kings do. Stop vexin’ me.”

Liall sighed deeply. “You’re avoiding me and it can’t go on. I’ve never known you to run from a fight, my t’aishka. You’re not a coward to hide from pain. You never were and never will be.” He was calm, his voice rational, the same infuriating tone he’d been using for days. “I think I must do this thing,” he said regretfully. “Or at least agree to do it at some point.”

Scarlet was beginning to think there was no end to the kinds of suffering they had in Rshan. “No,” he repeated unhappily.

The solarium was tiled in pale green glass, with a curved ceiling where false light filtered in brightly as moving patterns across the floor and walls. Beyond the first wall of glass, a second wall of mirrors amplified the illumination from the ceiling reflector, giving the greenish light the appearance of sun-dappled leaves. The only decorations were the elaborate wicker chair where Scarlet sat and several potted plants scattered about the floor.

Liall went down on one knee beside the throne-like chair. He would not have knelt if there were anyone else to witness, not even as a joke. A king knelt to no one.

“My sweet love,” he murmured, taking Scarlet’s hand in his own.

Scarlet sighed. “That’s not going to work.”

“I’m not trying to wheedle you into anything,” Liall said. Then, at Scarlet’s look: “Very well. I am. But, Scarlet... love...”

“I can’t do it and I want you to stop asking,” Scarlet interrupted. His hand tightened around Liall’s larger one. “I know what they want of you, and I know you have to give them an answer, but you’ve answered them before and they’re never satisfied with it. They press you and you turn around and press me. Well, I’m fucking tired of being pushed, Liall! If I could do this for you, I would, but I can’t.” His words fell one upon the other like a rockslide, and he could not stop them. “We’ve been over this a dozen times. What must I say and how must I say it before it sinks in? Do you want me to write you a letter?”

“I cannot vouch for the translation if you do.” Liall smiled faintly.

Jochi had been teaching Scarlet to read and even to pen a little bit in Sinha, though it was a child’s scrawl still and it would be several years yet before he learned the Rshani language.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” he muttered.

“Scarlet, if there were another way—any other way—you know I would take it.”

“Making a child is not like building one of your magic engines,” Scarlet retorted. “There’s more than one road to get to Rusa, as they say. I’ve given you a map to several. If you need an heir that badly, I’m sure she’d be willing to mother it, but mother is not wife.”

“I do not fathom how you can care nothing if I fuck the woman—”

“Oh, I care,” Scarlet broke in. “I care a lot, but I’m not stupid. A kingdom
does
need an heir and children don’t grow on apple trees. Do what you must and then set her aside.”

Liall shook his head. “I knew it was more than just simple jealousy. You were never that petty. But, love, I can’t just bed her and claim the child is my heir. I have to
marry
her for that. You don’t understand how their minds work.”

“You mean Rshani minds.”

Liall hesitated, then nodded.

Scarlet pushed him away and rose, heading for the door.

“Scarlet, wait!”

Liall caught him and grabbed his arm gently. Liall, so much larger than he, was always so careful not to hurt him.

Except now. Except like this.

“Please wait,” Liall begged. “We can’t keep dancing around this matter and sniping at each other. It’s making us both miserable. There must be a solution.”

“There is,” Scarlet said lowly, his face averted. “Send me home.”
I have to tell him.

“You are home.” Liall’s hand slid under Scarlet’s jaw, tenderly tipping his head back to brush his black hair out of his eyes. “You’re with me, where you belong. I will never send you away, or allow you to be parted from me. I could not bear it. You know this.” Ice-blue eyes stared down at Scarlet, adoring as always, compelling as always. “You
know
it, redbird.”

Scarlet twisted to get away, but Liall pulled him close and held him. He relented and pressed his face against the material of Liall’s shirt, smelling Rshani spices and musky cologne. His arms went around Liall’s broad back and gripped tight.

“If I could do this...” he whispered, his voice muffled.

“We may have no choice, t’aishka,” Liall said, brushing his mouth against Scarlet’s hair. “A king is less free than anyone.”

Scarlet’s breath caught. Those were Cestimir’s words. Vladei had murdered Cestimir, dragged him into a temple ruin and beheaded him, all because Cestimir was the prince and another wanted his throne. Liall was only king because Cestimir was dead.

“They can’t force you,” Scarlet murmured.

“Not literally, no. That would be a sight, wouldn’t it? But they can do other things—many other things—that would make my life and yours immensely more complicated and unpleasant. We might wind up wishing that we had taken the easier road. If I married her, at least I would have some measure of control. I would still be king, after all, and master of my own house. Any wife of mine must obey me as her husband
and
as her king. I would not allow you to be pushed aside.”

“So you say now.”

“I will swear by anything you like.”

“I don’t want promises.” Scarlet pulled away slowly and rubbed his face. He felt himself giving in. But Deva, it was hard; it was so hard to agree! He wasn’t ready to do that yet, not by far.

He was seized again with an urge to flee, to run and run until he there was no more road to travel on, anything to get away from the truth that gnawed at him, devouring him by inches. In desperation, his gaze went to the water clock stationed by a green-fronded palm, a tall and complicated affair of hollow brass cylinders filled with water that dripped at a steady, predictable rate. A small silver bird was mounted on a plunger atop the largest of the cylinders. The bird’s beak pointed to marks on a sliding scale as the water emptied.

“Is that the right hour?”

Liall glanced at the water clock. “Yes. Please listen. Can we at least—”

“I’m late.” Scarlet ducked past Liall’s arm for the door.

“Scarlet, we haven’t finished!”

“I’m late!” Scarlet called back, hurrying in case Liall came after him again. “Jochi expected me an hour ago. I’ll see you at dinner!” He rushed out of the solarium and up the steps into the pale stone heart of the great palace, his chest pounding.

One more day. I’ve put it off another day, but it’s not enough. I need years yet and he’s not going to give them to me. They won’t let him...

There were so many doors in this part of the palace, so many salons and courts and bedrooms and unused halls with no apparent function. Scarlet ducked into the alcove and hid in the deep shadows, waiting for Liall’s heavy step to pass him by.

When the sound of boots had faded, he slumped down and hid his face in his hands.

I have to tell him, but not today. Please, gods, not today. Not yet. I just need a little more time.

***

S
carlet loved the library, loved its soaring, vaulted ceiling and the bookcases that were taller than two men. He loved the padded wooden chairs that were big enough to sleep in, with armrests carved in the shape of wolves, and he loved the rich scents of leather and spices and colognes lingering in the air from a thousand Rshani visitors. It reminded him of Masdren’s leather shop, the way it smelled in the middle of the Ankar night, with the aromas of the busy souk drifting past. The library was one of the few places in the Nauhinir he found peaceful.

It was empty except for Jochi, who was waiting for him.

Scarlet’s boot-heels hit the wooden floor like drums and echoed against thick walls that were lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves and shelves of books. The book spines were mostly leather, but some were parchment, wood, linen, even shell and precious stones. There were so many colors that it seemed as if the walls were papered with butterfly wings.

Liall’s silver and blue banner dominated half of one wall. Other banners of Rshani noble houses were hung about the hall, and Scarlet could recognize several. There was the green, blue and gold banner of Jadizek with its pattern of grain, and there was the black banner of Uzna with its red sickle moon and white star, and closest to Liall’s banner was the white standard of Sul with its compass rose below a gold sun.

So many houses, so much history. He felt quite small beneath them. Funny, he had never felt small in Byzantur, even though nearly everyone outside of Lysia had been bigger than him.

Jochi smiled as he rose from his chair and bowed. His hair was unbound, a fall of ice hanging to his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Scarlet said at once. “I was with Liall and I didn’t realize it was so late, and then—”

Jochi held up his hand to stop him. “Ser Keriss, please. The king does not apologize if he keeps me waiting. His time is more valuable than mine. The king’s t’aishka does not need to apologize for keeping one of the king’s retainers waiting, either.” His voice was mild. “Save the king, there is no one in the Nauhinir with a rank higher than yours. Why must I keep reminding you of this fact?”

Scarlet looked away uncomfortably and found a seat. “You don’t. I understand. I don’t have to like it, though, all this natter about rank and such. We didn’t have to bother with that so much when Liall was just a prince.”

Jochi wore a brown virca trimmed in gold, but the sleeves were very short. Scarlet supposed that was a summer fashion. Unlike the common rooms and great halls in the warming days of spring, the library hearth was filled with a roaring fire. He guessed it was to preserve the books, for it had begun to feel damp in some places of the palace. Most of the rooms were heated with wood fires or by strange metal tanks that Liall said were furnaces. They burned a kind of black oil and were hotter than fireplaces. It kept the castle comfortable enough for him, if he dressed warmly.

Jochi chose a book from a case of yellow oak and began to page through it. “King Nazheradei was never ‘just’ anything. He has always been a most impressive man. And you complained then, too.”

Scarlet felt like being a little mean. He leaned back in the deep chair and propped his elbow on the armrest. “He isn’t here to hear you, you know.”

Jochi’s eyebrows went up. “Aye, ser, I know. Does something trouble you?”

Scarlet’s eyebrows drew together. “No more than something every day for the last fortnight.”

“Ah.” Jochi shut the book with a snap and took a seat opposite him. “You mean since Tebet sent their betrothal gift.”

“Tebet, or Ressilka?”

“Unless I ask the Lady herself, I can’t know. Likely, it was not her idea, nor would she act without Ressanda’s approval. The baron is the one pressing for a marriage. Ressilka is only obeying her father, though I can say with certainty that Hallin was obeying Ressanda alone.”

Scarlet winced. “You heard about that?”

“Of course.”

Scarlet looked down at the engraved wood of the chair, tracing the patterns. “Everyone else knows, why not you?”

“It’s my business to know, ser, even if I’ve been removed from my post. I’m still a Setna. The king speaks the truth when he says he cannot refuse Ressanda outright. Not now. Not when the realm needs Tebet’s support. The king did make a promise, once.”

“He promised that Ressilka would marry Cestimir or no man. Tell me how that figures into Liall taking a knee for her? Imagination, I should think.” Scarlet rose and began pacing the room. He did not seem to be able to keep still. “Why is he doing this to me? Does he hate me?”

“Baron Ressanda? He barely knows you.”

“So did Vladei. That didn’t stop him from trying to kill me,” Scarlet said grimly, remembering that day in the forest on the Temple Road, the snow falling so thick he could barely see. Being herded into the ruins so that Cestimir could be murdered on ground the Rshani considered sacred, and Cestimir last words to him:
This way, I am free forever.

“In my land, if a man tries to take another man’s mate, he’s an enemy,” Scarlet said. “Doesn’t that amount to Ressanda sending
me
a message with those damned horses? He wants me gone or dead. I can feel it.”

“What Baron Ressanda wants is irrelevant.” Jochi stood up and stepped in front of Scarlet to stop his pacing. His golden eyes were bright. “Ser Keriss, listen to me. The baron would not dare to lay hands on your life. He knows the king would destroy his entire family if he did so, and promises be damned. I think...” He hesitated and seemed to be choosing his words with care. “I think perhaps you are too close to the situation to see it clearly.”

“All I can see is that Liall’s kingdom wants him to take a wife, and me to take the first ship back to Byzantur. Or preferably a long drop off a tall pier and into the cold sea.”

“Ser! This is not so. Everyone in the Nauhinir is fond of you. You are the adored of the king and there could be no kinder friend than you. Why do you say these hurtful things?”

Scarlet’s chest was aching. “Because I’m scared, why else? I don’t think I can do what Liall wants this time, and I’m afraid I’ll lose him for it. Isn’t there another way?”