TheKingsViper (11 page)

Eloise’s mouth opened in protest, her eyes widening. Severin
paused to hear what she had to say, but she just shook her head.

“In the meantime,” he added grimly, “I will also be
questioned. Rather more roughly. By those whose profession it is to seek
confession.”

She understood. In that moment her internal picture of
Severin de Meynard wrenched itself, once again, into a new alignment. “No!”

“The King’s honor is at stake, after all.”

“But…we haven’t…” Her face, pale from shock, flushed now.
This was too much for her to take in instantly.

“Of course not. And believe me, I will get you home with
your maidenhead intact or not at all, because anything else is treason and we
will both be executed for it.”

“What?”

“Don’t panic. There’s no need for that to happen. The King
is a just man, when he has the chance to be. You will not suffer needlessly.
But neither may he take our word alone for our own innocence. Who would believe
us, after all?”

“The King will believe you, won’t he? I mean—you’re his
favored man…”

“The King is not all Ystria. The King is not men gossiping
in the taverns and women gossiping over the embroidery frames. The King is not
the keeper of his own honor.”

“But it will be proved—I will be found…innocent.”

“Yes. And this will be announced publicly, so that no stain
may be imputed to you. There will be a time of silence, when the eyes of the
kingdom are allowed to turn elsewhere. And in that time, very quietly, the
betrothal will be called off, and you—with luck—will be returned home to Venn.
And the King will marry another.”

The whole world was crumbling beneath her feet. “But why?”

He sighed. “Because whatever is proved in law, there will
always be rumors against you. Your reputation will always be suspect. If you
were to become Queen, there would be suggestions that your children were tainted
by another man’s seed, if not actually illegitimate, and this would be used by
the King’s enemies. Do you think Arnauld could tolerate such a situation? His
queen must be unimpeachable.” He caught his lip in his teeth. “And you are not
any longer. I’m sorry.”

She sat up, her eyes burning. Didn’t he know what he was
saying? “Then it’s all for nothing!”

“You will live. The honor of Ystria will be intact. That’s
hardly nothing.”

She didn’t understand how he could be so calm. “But why are
you doing this? Why are you risking so much, knowing that your own King will
have you put to the torture? Why are you taking me back at all?”

He shrugged. “Loyalty. I am the King’s man, whatsoever he
chooses to do with me.”

She shook her head as if trying to throw something out of
it. “I cannot believe this.”

He smiled, wryly. “You get your wish though. You will not be
Queen.”

“Oh dear God.”

He got to his feet, brushing off his filthy clothes, but she
sat with her face in her hands. “Come on,” he said softly, holding out a hand
to help her up. He did it seemingly without thinking, but as she put her
fingers in his both of them froze momentarily, shocked by the implication of
that touch. Then he pulled her upright. She was trembling slightly.

“You must never,” he said, keeping his voice low, “by
anything you say for the rest of your days, suggest to
anyone
that there
might have been any impropriety between us. Not a touch, not a gesture. Do you
understand? Don’t trust anyone, even those of your own kin, even the kindest
and most loving of friends. If you make any mistake, we will both die. You will
be beheaded, and I will be publically castrated and then drawn and burned.”

“Oh God!”

“Do you understand?” he repeated urgently. “Both our lives
depend on your silence.”

“Yes.” She nodded, her lips white.

Chapter Four

When they came in sight of Rounay at last, they paused at a
milestone to rest. The town lay sprawled out in the valley below them, a jumble
of red stone walls and roofs under a pall of wood-smoke.

“There,” said Severin. “Do you see it?”

“What?”

“Beyond the river…”

Eloise was able to make out the silver sliver of the river
between the walls. “Yes?”

“The far bank, that’s Ystria.”

She took a deep breath. That first glimpse of their homeland
was nothing more than a blue-green line of hills from here. She had expected to
feel relief when she saw it, after so many weeks wandering and afraid, but now
the weight of the information Severin had confided lay like a stone in her
chest. “So we cross here?”

Severin shook his head. “There was a crossing many years
back, before Henrick’s reign. The river runs shallow here with low banks, and
when the water is low in summer it’s practically a ford. Rounay was a trade
town in those days. Now…it’s a garrison. This is the easiest place to get an
army across the river-border—in either direction. Both banks will be watched
and guarded.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We go a day or so upriver, to where it flows faster and the
access is steep. And we swim it. You can swim, can’t you?”

“I’m a daughter of Venn,” she said with a tired laugh. “Of
course I can.”

“Good. Well, with luck we won’t be drowned or broken on the
rocks or shot by a patrol—and we will be home.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair.
“And you make it sound so easy!”

“Nothing’s easy. But we have a chance now.”

She sagged a little.

“Tonight though,” Severin added, eyeing her, “we will stay
in an inn. There’s no casual fieldwork round here anyway, so close to the city.
Tonight…hot food and clean sheets. A private room. And we’ll pay for someone to
launder your clothes. Would you like that?”

It was Eloise’s turn to shake her head. “We haven’t got any
money.”

“We’ve got the farmer’s money. He wasn’t entirely lying
about being on his way to market.”

“Oh.”

“For one night. To strengthen us for the crossing. And what
lies beyond.”

It was odd, she thought, that it almost sounded as if he
were being sentimental. She searched his face and saw the skin around his eyes
crinkle in the tiniest and most wary of smiles. It was his attempt at
conciliation, she realized.

“You don’t have to take me back,” she blurted, the words
spilling out. “You don’t have to, you know. You could just choose to go live
somewhere else, and everyone would believe we were dead.”

Severin’s expression grew grave again and he looked past
her, out toward Ystria. “Would you really have me do that to your father?” he
asked. “Leave him grieving, with no heir?”

“If it meant you were safe…”

She expected him to get angry, insulted by her urging to
cowardice and betrayal, but he only shook his head a little, and his lip
twitched unhappily. “And where would I go, do you think? How would I make a
living?”

“Anywhere. You’re smart enough to come up with something.
You’d thrive.”

“And what would happen to you?”

Eloise took a deep breath, riding a wave of dizziness. “You
could take me with you.”

A faint line appeared between his black brows, but his gaze
stayed on the horizon, never meeting hers. “And would you like that?” he asked,
his voice soft and somehow dangerous.

And this was it. This was the thing that must not be spoken.
When she uttered the next word it would be treason, she knew. And not just
treason—an admission so intimate that she felt dizzy. Could she do it, she
asked herself? Could she throw herself on the mercy of this merciless man? Her
throat dried up. She felt sick with dread, and at the last moment her courage
failed her. “I wouldn’t be unwilling.” she whispered, cursing the weakness of
her words.

His face betrayed no emotion, no change. Only after a long moment,
he dipped his chin. “The thought had crossed my mind,” he said softly, and for
a heartbeat she was filled with astonishment. “But,” he added, his voice
gravelly with weariness, “I am the King’s man. And I will remain his, to my
death.”

A long, keen-edged pang slid through Eloise’s chest, as if
she had lost something precious. She waited for the pain to ease, but it seemed
to burn deeper and deeper. For a long moment they were silent.

“Sev?”

“Hm?”

“
Would
you kill me?”

He turned a look of incomprehension upon her. “What?”

“If you thought you had to, I mean.” Her mouth had gone dry.
“If we were captured by Mendean soldiers, say, and they knew who I was, would
you have to kill me then? For the sake of Arnauld’s honor? Would that be your
duty too?”

The frown dropped from his face, which became a mask from
which his eyes looked out, burning. He didn’t answer for a long time, but she
waited stubbornly. Finally he said in a strained, distant voice, “If it came to
that, we’d die together.” Then he turned away, picked up the pack and set off
down the road.

Eloise bit her lip, feeling the tears swell at the back of
her eyes. Her chin trembled. She had to shut her eyes for a while, swallowing
hard, before she could bring herself to follow him toward the town.

* * * * *

Rounay was a chaotic, busy, cluttered place. There were
groups of soldiers on almost every street, some patrolling, some clearly
off-duty, and the two travelers did their best to keep their heads down and
avoid both. They went to the livestock market to sell the horse—Eloise was
sorry to see it go, but Severin told her they had little more use for it now
and it would cost them too much to stable it—and asked about to discover the
name of a decent inn.

Eloise stuck close to Severin. She found the market
appealing, but after so many weeks on the road the press of people was a little
overwhelming.

As they were walking up a steep street in the direction
suggested, Severin, who’d been looking through the gaps between the buildings
for some time now, pulled aside down an alley and stepped out onto a bit of
waste ground where piles of rubbish were smoldering among the weeds. It wasn’t
the debris that interested him, however, but the view down over the open ground
beyond, where many gray tents were lined up.

“What are you doing?” Eloise asked, moving to his elbow.

“Taking note. Doesn’t it seem to you that there are a
surprising number of soldiers stationed here, just to guard a river-crossing?”

Eloise swung away, nervous, and the breath caught in her
throat with a hiccup. “Sev…”

It was a good thing he’d kept his voice pitched low. There
was a patrol-group of six guards between them and the road, and they were
drawing weapons as they advanced.

“Hey you! What are you looking at?”

Severin moved swiftly to put himself between the soldiers
and Eloise, but didn’t draw his knife. Their position was hopeless. She could
see that. They were outnumbered and backed into a corner and had nowhere to run
to, even if they did dodge away.

“Just looking.”

“And what are you finding so interesting to look at?” At a
hand-signal the soldiers circled to surround him, and this one leveled his
shortsword warningly at Severin’s chest.

“Tents,” said Severin without hesitation. “I’m in the
tent-making trade. You look like you could use a supplier.” It was plausible
enough, in that his plain work-worn clothes made him look as if he could be a
journeying craftsman.

“I don’t think you’re from round here.” The soldiers were
taking it in turn to speak and it was hard to see who was in charge. Though
they hadn’t addressed her, a couple were looking at Eloise with unnerving
interest. “Boscian, are you?”

“Yes. Tros, Boscia.” Severin’s accent was subtly more
foreign.

“Thought so.” One of the soldiers stepped up behind Severin
and wrapped an arm round his neck to lay the edge of a long military dagger
against his throat. The motion was elaborately threatening. Severin arched his
back, hands spread, head tilted away from the blade.

“What’s a Boscian doing up here then?”

“Looking for work.”

Damn him,
thought Eloise.
He doesn’t look scared
enough
. His eyes had narrowed and every line of his body sang of tension,
but a real tentmaker would be just about pissing his pants in this situation,
surely.

“Well, it’s your lucky fucking day, sunshine.” The one with
the sword pointed at his chest grinned broadly. “You’ve just found yourself
gainful employment. We’re in dire need of hole-diggers and shit-shovellers in
the army right now. Consider yourself recruited.”

“No—”

Instantly a broad hand shoved one of his wrists up behind
his back, hard enough to make him twist against the knife.

“It’s the military levy, you fucking whoreson. There’s no
‘No’ about it.”

“You can’t do that!” Eloise’s voice cut through the gruff
sniggering. Instantly all eyes were on her and the noises got louder and
uglier.

“And who’s this?”

“My wife,” said Severin through gritted teeth.

“You can’t take him,” she said desperately. “It’s against
the law to conscript a man in his first year of marriage.”

One of the soldiers, his bare head shaven down to a sandy
stubble full of scars as if he’d repeatedly been hit over it, stepped up to her
and Eloise shrank back. “You married him, did you?”

“Yes, in Yeveaux, this Bull Festival.” She had no idea if
her Mendean accent was convincing but she pushed on. “That’s not even six
months. You can’t take him.”

“Can’t?”

“I’ll go to the bishop here. My uncle is an abbot in
Yeveaux.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing married to a Boscian
tentmaker?” the soldier asked wonderingly, while his companions hooted. Eloise
squared her shoulders frantically, her mind spinning.

“He tumbled me in the hay-barn during on the first night of
the festival. My family insisted he married me.”