The King of Forever (Scarlet and the White Wolf, #4) (23 page)

“I’d forgotten how busy it was here,” Liall said, striving for a casual tone. “I’ve been behind palace walls too long. It seems positively frantic.”

“I’d hardly call this frantic,” Alexyin scoffed. “Preoccupied, perhaps.”

Liall cleared his throat. “Alexyin... about what I said—”

“Forgotten, my king. The heat of the moment. I should not have pressed you on the matter.”

Alexyin met his gaze, and Liall saw with relief that it was true. He smiled. “I’m glad. I want us always to be friends, Alexyin.”

“On that we fully agree. It’s my dearest wish, sire.”

Pleased, Liall clapped Alexyin on the shoulder and mounted the horse that a guard held for him. This guard was in black and silver with a starred badge on his cloak: queen’s men of Starhold, the great fortress of Nau Karmun, sworn to Nadiushka.
My men now,
Liall thought, and wondered if he would ever stop thinking of his kingdom as something borrowed, rather than his by birthright.

Alexyin took charge of the soldiers and guards and commanded their rank to his liking, and when he seemed satisfied, he gestured and the column began to move. He then took his place beside Liall, in the center of the protective box of alert guards. Behind the mounted column, a short train of foot-soldiers took up the march. Every man had an excellent sword at his hip, and the mounted guards held steel-tipped pikes.

“Is the Bleakwatch secured?” Liall asked.

“Khatai Jarek made it so before she left, sire,” Alexyin said. “Filled all the available rooms with your own guards and cleared the first floor.”

Bleakwatch was the baronial tower of Sul, a heavily-armored structure that loomed high over the bay and was well away from Arrowgate, the city armory. “We will only be here for two days. Has she sent word?”

“She gave the orders here for the conscription before she moved to Starhold to oversee the soldiers returned from Magur. The troops from Uzna Minor should arrive there before you.”

“Who did she leave in charge?”

“Her third: Kamaras.”

Liall knew the woman, though it had been many years since they had met. “She’s capable.”

Alexyin looked left and right as they rode, and all around them the crowds stopped and gaped at the royal procession before bowing low. “I do not like all this traveling in the open, with only these few to keep you safe,” he grumbled. “Most of them are guards, not true fighting men.”

“You’d prefer soldiers?”

“I prefer blooded men to guard the throne. Prince Cestimir would not have it so, and I’ve lived to regret his decision.”

It was the first time Liall had heard of Cestimir making such a choice. “He refused guardsmen?”

“He refused soldiers. He said the household guards were enough, because they
were
common. They were his people. He said that if a king could not walk safely among his subjects, then he had no business being king.”

“Wise words,” Liall murmured.

“Idealistic words. A king should heed his counselors and leave his fine principles for when he can afford them.”

Liall wanted no further arguments and he would say nothing against Cestimir. It was far too late, in any case. Hindsight would change nothing.

Alexyin sighed heavily and changed the subject. “Your pardon, my lord. Old habits. I hope Jarek has no trouble gathering the conscription from Uzna Minor. We need those men badly.”

“Shikhoza knows what the smart move is, and Jarek will do as she’s been commanded. Woe betide the man or woman who stands between Jarek and her duty.”

The king’s company crested the hill of the cobbled avenue, and Liall looked out over the wide mouth of Swan Bay and the whipping sails of the ships. There were more than he could count at a single glance, nearly a hundred of them. He inhaled deeply of the salt air and thought back to the day when he had first left Rshan, and how he had been so certain he would never return. He’d had an escort that day as well, only they were sent to see that the queen’s command was carried out and that her only living son was exiled from Rshan’s shores.

In his mind, he could still see the grief on Jarek’s face as she turned away from him, leaving him on the deck of a hulking merchant ship bound for Ankar.

“Nothing stops Jarek after she’s been given her orders,” he said quietly. “Nothing and no one.”

***

T
he armory of Arrowgate had nothing to recommend it but weapons. Otherwise, it was a tower of stone on the lip of the harbor, two hundred feet high and facing the sea with sixty cannon pointed into the bay. Liall had frequented tabernas in Volkovoii that were better appointed. At least Arrowgate was cleaner.

The great hall was paneled with ancient planks. Massive vaulted beams overhead had been scavenged from shipwrecked vessels, with ancient barnacles still clinging to the wood as proof. The floor was slate flags, and several dusty kegs—long dry of wine—were upended and used as chairs around the moot table. They had managed to find one proper chair for the king: a throne made of oak and hammered bronze, probably taken from the captain’s office.

Liall took his seat and left the kegs for Ressanda and his company. Arrowgate was one of the poorest halls that Sul had to offer, but Ressanda’s poor behavior deserved no better greeting.

Baron Ressanda wasted no time getting to the point.

“I have come for the wedding of my daughter,” he announced. Red-bearded, big-bellied, and loud, the baron was nevertheless a nobleman and he bellowed like one when he was crossed.

Liall tipped his wine cup to Ressanda in a toast. “Lovely. Who is she marrying?”

This red branch of my House needs to lower his voice before I forget myself and snap him like a twig,
he thought. He recalled Ulan’s warning:
Even now, Ressanda journeys to Sul to play a game of soldiers and pawns with you, with his fair daughter as the queen.

Ressanda’s face darkened at those words. “My king makes a joke of me. You know very well—”

“I know that I swore to you that your daughter would be married to a prince,” Liall finished for him, putting out some volume of his own. If Ressanda wanted to deal with his king like a merchant bawling over a cargo of fish, he could do the same. “We both know that prince was to be Cestimir. Fate has a strange way with men’s lives. And women’s.” He paused. “Speaking of japes, Jarad Hallin was a poor one. I hope he enjoys shoveling shit, for that’s where he’ll be until winter. Pity, but I doubt you’ll miss him.”

Ressanda dug in and refused to be distracted from his target. “Even so, I have come for my daughter’s wedding.”

“A king is not a bull and you are not a drover, ser, to be chivvying me to the breeding barn!” Liall slammed his wine cup on the table and green wine splashed over the scuffed wood. “You came because you were bloody well sent for, and you knew what would happen if you refused. I have more important matters to consider than your haste to marry off a daughter.”

Ressanda’s cheeks reddened as if slapped. “My daughter could assure your dynasty, the continuance of the house of Camira-Druz. Is that so little?”

Liall forced himself to count to three before replying. Ressanda had a point. There were many women at court who would be happy to take on the job of mother to a crèche of royal heirs, but beyond his cousin Winotheri and her daughter Ressilka, there were few Camira-Druz left. Ressanda spoke the truth.

“I meant no disrespect to the lady,” Liall said carefully. “In my temper, I misspoke. The lady’s marriage is indeed a great matter. One that I will address in time.”

“How much time?” the baron pressed.

“As much as I say,” Liall snapped. “I will marry when I please, and none of your growling will make the day come any sooner.”

“What stands in your way, my king?”

Liall did not care for this direction. “Perhaps I just do not prefer women in my bed.”

It wasn’t far from the truth. Liall had never objected to a pretty woman between the sheets, but the rough-handed Jarek was more suited to him sexually than Shikhoza ever was, though Shikhoza had once been known as the most beautiful woman in Rshan. Ressilka was clever enough, but Tesk had informed him she was reserved and distant, prone to silences, and full of the same chilly dignity that his mother had possessed. She would have been perfect for Cestimir, but Liall doubted she could hold his interest for long. Virginity is piquant in the young, and he had to admit he wasn’t altogether indifferent to the thought of Ressilka naked, but he couldn’t see himself sharing a life with her, or loving her. She would be looking for a gallant king to court her, to treat her honorably and pledge himself to her, and the most he could offer was a turn under the covers to get her with child before he returned to Scarlet’s arms.

Not without breaking Scarlet’s heart.

“I believe there is another impediment,” Ressanda said.

“My t’aishka is not an impediment,” Liall said quietly. “And whoever claims so risks my wrath. You forget yourself, ser: A t’aishka is a chosen love, life to life, closer than blood. I have known him before.”

“Superstition,” Ressanda scoffed. “Fairytales and bedtime stories! We have no proof of these other lives, just as there is no proof of gods or demons or magic.”

“And yet many have witnessed ser Keriss’s magic. Account for that, my lord, if you can. Or, if you truly believe it is trickery, I will call for ser Keriss and he can demonstrate his powers for you. That matter is closed.”

“I have learned that Hilurin are short-lived—”

Liall’s look was so coldly furious that Ressanda closed his mouth at once.

“If you finish that sentence, I will have you turned out of the city like a common beggar,” Liall warned, his mind a blaze of anger. “And if you value your neck, you will not seek to make his life any shorter than it already is.”
And you should thank the Shining Ones that you did not call him a lenilyn.

“You suggest that I would stoop to assassination?” Ressanda sputtered, and Liall could see that the baron was setting up to work himself into one of his famous rages.

“If you cannot calm yourself, my lord, then you should go back to Tebet and stay there. When the Ava Thule are howling at your gates, do not call to me for aid. My protection does not extend to traitors.”

“Traitors!”
Ressanda blew his breath out and shook himself all over like a wet dog. “I do not care for the way you treat your barons, my lord.”

My lord. Far short of “my king”. When Liall had known Ressanda in his youth, the baron never failed to name him prince.

“And I do not care to be forced to call one of my sworn barons twice to my side. Your displeasure is noted. Be sure you make note of mine.” Liall sipped his wine while Ressanda stewed. “Are you done showing me your fangs?”

Liall could see Ressanda biting his cheek on his reply. “Done, my king.”

That’s better. Good dog
. Liall knew he must never let Ressanda forget who held the power. Ressanda was not a pure Rshani, and Morturii were infamous power-mongers.
He’s had the whip, time to try the carrot.

“In time, when the fighting is done and the realm settled, there may be a place for your daughter at my court,” Liall said. “Haste will not make the Lady Ressilka any dearer to me. Besides, the Ava Thule may have my head on a pole by this time next year. Be sure they’d seek my queen’s neck soon after. You may be hastening your daughter to a marriage that ends with her a hunted widow, ser. Or a corpse. Let me settle my kingdom before I settle a crown on a queen.”

Ressanda took this for capitulation. Victory suffused his features before he bowed shortly. “As my king wishes.”

Liall motioned for him to sit and called for more wine. “I trust your journey was not too tiresome?” he asked politely.
It costs nothing to be polite
, he thought.
Please is not a promise.

Ressanda settled his bulk into the keg-chair. “It is a swift journey by sea,” he said warily. “The captain said the currents favored us, and that he had never made the port of Sul in such a short time. He declared it a good omen.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it is.”

Liall remembered that he had liked Ressanda for most of his life. The baron had made many wise choices for his people, and had always been loyal to the queen. He was brusque and demanding and overly proud of his splash of royal blood, but he was not a coward or a liar.

Ressilka had been promised—albeit never formally—to a prince of Rshan, and had dwelled at the royal court for more than three years. It was rumored that she was a bitter rival of Shikhoza’s, as well as many other of the court ladies who envied Ressilka her royal name and her beauty. One did not thrive in such an environment unless one was very shrewd. Cestimir had appreciated Ressilka, and Cestimir had been no fool.

No, no fool; just sad and doomed,
Liall thought glumly.
Doomed and running to his fate with open arms.

He wondered if Ressilka had the same fatalistic tendencies as his late half-brother. He hoped not.

“Omen or no, it is good that we meet on friendly terms,” Liall said courteously. “My brother spoke of Lady Ressilka often with affection. I do believe Cestimir loved her.” He watched Ressanda carefully.

The baron sighed, his belly heaving like an ocean. “As she loved him, my king. He was a noble prince, and very intelligent. I admired him greatly. He always knew the right thing to do.”

Ouch.
Liall smirked. “He was noble and gentle,” he allowed. “I am not my brother, baron. No more than you are your great grandmother. Tell me: does Ressilka
want
to marry me?”

Ressanda gave him a sharp look. “It is her duty, sire. I wish for her to wed, so she shall wed, if it please the king.”

“So she has no affection for me?” Liall pressed.

Ressanda pulled at his short beard. “She has a great affection for the king. I have told her that you would be a dutiful and excellent husband, and that you will make her happy.”

“I’ve never made any woman happy,” Liall said flatly. “I’ve taken women as lovers, but it never lasted. Now my heart is claimed by another, and I have a bond with him that cannot be broken in this life. Even if there were a marriage, even if there were children, I could not love her. I’m already in love.”