A Crown Imperiled (44 page)

‘I take you very seriously, Hal. I just don’t take your concerns that seriously. My father wants to meet you as soon as this event is over.’

His expression darkened. ‘He’s . . . ?’

‘He wants to thank you personally for saving my life, stupid.’ She looked up into his eyes. ‘You’re not afraid to meet him, are you?’

Hal wondered if he looked as uncomfortable as he felt. ‘Stephané, I did what was asked and for that I need no thanks. It was my honour to protect you. But Gabriella and Ty also did a fair share of the protecting, you know?’

‘I mentioned that to Father, but mostly I told him how brave you were.’

‘Are you trying to get me killed?’

‘No,’ she whispered, her face darkening. ‘I’m trying to get you married.’

Suddenly she turned and walked away, still holding his hand and half-led, half-dragged him across the floor. Several chatting nobles took note of the display, and by the time Hal took a large step to catch up and tried to disengage his hand from hers, she had arrived at her destination.

Queen Gertrude smiled at the couple. ‘Welcome, Your Grace.’

Hal couldn’t seem to get his fingers untwined from Stephané’s no matter how he tried, short of yanking his hand free in a very ungraceful gesture, so he tried as hard as possible to move to a position where it wasn’t obvious.

The Queen looked genuinely amused and said, ‘Stephané, let go of the poor lad’s hand before you cause him to die of embarrassment.’

She looked at her mother, then Hal and said, ‘Sorry,#x2019; Her tone showed she was anything but.

The Queen said, ‘Now, run along and mingle. I have a few things to speak about with the Duke.’

Stephané’s face showed she was not happy with the decision, but she obeyed her mother and moved away. Hal glanced around hoping for a goblin raid, a sudden hurricane, or some other calamity to remove him from the Queen’s scrutiny.

‘Majesty, I’m sorry—’ he began, but the Queen raised her hand to cut him off.

Standing, she said, ‘Why don’t we take a little walk, Your Grace?’

Not knowing what to say, Hal offered his hand as she stepped down from the throne. She indicated with a slight tilt of her head that two guards should accompany them and led Hal down a short corridor to a large, open door leading to a lovely garden.

The sun was setting and the evening breeze off the ocean was refreshing after the close air in the throne room. The two guards stationed themselves outside the door and Queen Gertrude led Hal to the far side. ‘Now we can speak in private.’

‘Majesty,’ said Hal in as noncommittal a tone as he could manage.

‘My daughter can’t stop singing your praises, Lord Henry.’

Not being entirely certain what he was supposed to say, he offered, ‘Please, Majesty, I’m called Hal. My father was Lord Henry and I’m not entirely used to being addressed that way.’

She smiled warmly. ‘Very well, Hal. You’ve made a remarkable impression.’

‘We were together in dire circumstances. Many men would have dose as I did. Certainly Tyrone Hawkins and the Lady Gabriella also deserve thanks for your daughter’s well-being.’

‘That’s as may be, but she only speaks of you.’ Her eyes focused sharply on him. ‘Did you manage to put my daughter under some sort of spell, Hal?’

He couldn’t be certain if she were joking or not, so he said, ‘Majesty, I assure you I only attempted to care for Her Highness, and my attentions were respectful and mindful of the differences in our rank.’

The Queen laughed. ‘You Isles folks can be so stuffy, and you westerners are the worst of the lot. Half the nobles in Roldem in your circumstances would have dragged her off to the closest temple for a hasty marriage and arrived here as our son-in-law, a fait accompli.

‘Hal, if the King or I thought there had been one moment of impropriety we would be having this conversation in the dungeon, your rank notwithstanding.’ She took his hand and patted it. ‘And I would be the one holding the red-hot pincers.’

Managing a careful smile, he said, ‘I thank Your Majesty for her wisdom.’

Still holding his hand, she asked, ‘Hal, are you in love with my daughter?’

Caught completely unawares, he hesitated then said, ‘Desperately.’

The Queen said, ‘Oh, dear.’ She looked out over the city where as night fell lanterns were being lit in windows and on lamp-poles. Finally she said, ‘Come. Sit. This is my favourite time of day, though I’m rarely able to enjoy it. I’m usually busy getting ready for some state function or another.’ She smiled at him. ‘Now, let me tell you a story.’

She paused, gathering her thoughts, then said, ‘When I was my daughter’s age, I was Grand Duchess of Maladon. My brother was Grand Duke and unmarried. He met a young woman of property from Simrick and with sufficient standing that there would be no raised eyebrows when it was obvious he had married her to bolster our meagre treasury. Maladon and Simrick are merged states, two duchies wed ages ago out of battle.

‘My brother wished me wed in the most advantageous way and discovered the then-King of Roldem was looking for a bride for his eldest son. Rather than seeking a wife who would gain him political advantage, say a Princess of the Isles or Kesh, or a highly-placed Roldemish duke’s daughter, he sought a girl of rank whose alliance with Roldem would not unbalance a deftly-fashioned relationship between Roldem, the Isles, and Kesh. So, I was the choice. I had rank, not much of a dowry, but my brother’s alliance with Roldem would not cause conflict with any of the neighbours. When Carol and I were wed I had never laid eyes on him until the day of our wedding, did you know that?’

‘No, Majesty,’ said Hal quietly.

‘He was shy, though he had enough court experience to hide it.’ She looked Hal in the eye and said, ‘I’m too old to be coy, young Hal, so all I’ll say is our wedding night had its awkward moments. That was thirty-six years ago. I can’t imagine being married to anyone else, but once I did, so vary long ago. A dashing young captain of my brother’s horse guard. He flattered me and paid attention to me, ignoring far prettier girls. I was naive then, and couldn’t believe he didn’t fancy more than my rank and connections. I think he imagined I would bully my brother into letting me wed him, and be promoted to general or some such.’

Hal was about to protest, but the Queen cut him off. ‘Save your empty flattery, Hal. I know I was no beauty. My husband came to love me as I love him, despite our rather plain looks. So let me ask you, why do you love my daughter? Beauty, rank? Be honest. I will know if you are lying.’

Hal weighed his words, then said, ‘I’ve never met a woman besides my mother who was so . . . staunch, save perhaps the Lady Bethany of Carse. In the middle of the wilderness with men trying to capture her, hungry, wet and cold, Stephané did not complain. If anything, she worked to buoy our spirits. Yes, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen, and I know her rank is far above mine, but I’m as certain in my heart as I can be. Her courage is a match for anyone I’ve met, and she has a generous heart and a level head. She’s . . . wonderful.’

The Queen’s eyes glistened. ‘Oh, you poor boy,’ she whispered. ‘You know what you must do, don’t you?’

Hal hung his head, a pain growing within. ‘I know I must not indulge her whims.’

Now a tear ran down the Queen’s cheek. ‘And you would have made her such a good husband,’ she said softly.

‘I appreciate the thought. But I know she must marry to protect Roldem’s best interests, and I must return to Rillanon and see what duty my king has of me. At present I am a rustic duke without a duchy. Unless the King can negotiate—’

A strange keening filled the air, accompanied by a sensation akin to the moment before a lightning strike. The combination caused the hair on Hal’s arms to stand on end; then there was a sudden scream followed by men shouting and the sound of weapons being drawn. It came from the corridor leading to the great hall. Hal turned to the two soldiers and shouted, ‘Guard the Queen!’ Then he drew his sword and raced into the hall.

•  CHAPTER NINETEEN  •

Conflicts

C
HAOS REIGNED.

Hal took a moment to comprehend the scene before him. Three rings of guards were standing in protection of their respective monarchs, while everyone who could get out of the great hall was scrambling for the nearest exit. The centre of the hall was a surging mass of movement that took Hal a moment to make sense of, for three alien figures stood in the midst of a litter of bodies.

Lord John Worthington stood motionless, in his hand a bloody knife. His son lay at his feet, his throat obviously cut as blood pooled around him. Lord John appeared transfixed, staring off into the distance, while Roldem’s palace guard formed a barrier between him and their King.

Then he saw that Lord John’s Isles and Kesh counterparts stood motionless as well, arms down and out before them, hands turned palms up, their eyes closed as if in prayer.

And in the centre of an invisible triangle between those three men raged something dark and murderous.

Hal could not quite make sense of what he was seeing. Whatever was forming there was a blur of motion and a shifting of light. Then Lord John and the other two advisors collapsed as one, and something was released.

The three shimmering silhouettes suddenly threw themselves at the three monarchs. Those not behind the wall of shields and swords screamed in agony as sudden wounds appeared on their bodies, or died silently from instantly killing blows. Blood fountained and spattered everywhere as the apparitions appeared moved around the room in a mad caper of murder, cutting and slashing in all directions.

Hal looked and found the Princess standing behind her father, Lady Gabriella and Ty and a dozen royal guardsmen. Jim and Franciezka were standing between that group and the Isles guardsmen protecting King Gregory, both of them had a pair of impressive-looking blades in each hand.

The Keshians were forming a wall of iron shields and scimitars around Emperor Sezioti who had drawn his ceremonial sword and looked poised to use it if need be. Hal tried to make sense of the mayhem, but had trouble getting the dark figures in focus.

They moved oddly, disjointedly, but even so, their progress was deadly. Blood was splattered on gowns and fine uniforms, giving the entire tableau an otherworld quality. Moreover, the keening sound the creatures made was unnerving. Hal fought down an urge to turn and run and took stock of his next move. His duty lay to his king and he knew he should move to defend Gregory, but his heart was with Stephané’s and he wanted nothing more than to hurry to her side.

He judged his best choice to join with Jim and Franciezka. He ran past the royal dais and came to Jim’s side. ‘What are they?’

‘I’ve never seen their like,’ said the Kingdom’s spymaster. ‘But I’ve read about them. They are called death-dancers, and they are a bastard to kill.’

Looking at the way they flailed about, Hal saw a pattern emerging. ‘Then we’d best be about killing them as quickly as we can!’ He took three steps forward and as he had anticipated, what appeared as an odd man-shaped hole in the air swung a wide arc of what seemed to be a blade. Hal lunged and impaled it, felt the sword cut deep, felt resistance, then withdrew and knelt as a wildly swinging blade cut through the air where he had stood a moment before. A warbling cry, a sound nothing mortal could make, cut through the air, a sound of raw pain and anger.

‘Good!’ shouted Jim. ‘I think you’ve really annoyed it!’

The nearest death-dancer turned and seemed to be trying to locate Hal, who backed away ready to move in whatever direction took him away from this thing’s attack. He had run it through, somewhere in the lower torso, but it seemed merely agitated, showing no sign of injury.

‘How do you kill one of these things?’ Hal yelled.

‘I don’t know, but I do know you can’t let it cut you! Its touch is poison!’

‘Now you tell me!’

‘I’m not the one racing in there, am I?’ shouted Jim.

Hal played keep-away with the closest death-dancer and noticed another behind it. There was something dissimilar between the two, but he was too busy dodging to notice. He yelled, ‘Jim, what’s the difference between this one and the others?’

Jim tore his attention away from the closest as it lunged at Hal who barely leapt away in time. The flickering, featureless creature was difficult to see, and only the young duke’s quick reflexes saved him.

‘The other one has some sort of lash. Yours a blade, I think.’

‘I can’t see it well enough to hurt it!’ Hal shouted. ‘It’s like fighting in the dark.’

A noble on the other side of the room, one of the visiting Kingdom lords, screamed and clutched at his cheek as the lash from the other dancer found its mark. He fell to his knees with blood running between his fingers, then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed to the floor. Colour drained from his face, his forehead beaded with perspiration and he seemed to be fighting for breath.

A third death-dancer reached the line of shields protecting the Emperor and was repulsed by the sheer number of blows directed at it. Enough struck that it echoed the warbling cry of the one Hal had wounded and retreated.

Jim watched the frustrating combat, as Hal and Ty and the others defending the monarchs attempted to counter blows from enemies that were at best dancing shadows and at worst nearly invisible. Jim said, ‘We need to see them!’

Franciezka said, ‘I have an idea!’ She turned and for a brief moment thought about dragging the King and Princess Stephané out of the door behind them, until she realized that corridor ended in a terraced garden. The only other way off that terrace was over a low stone wall, then a fifty-foot drop to the marshalling yard below.

She ducked behind the throne and made her way through cowering nobles who were trying to stay as far away as possible from the murderous magical beings. A servants’ entrance was hidden behind a tapestry and she ducked through it. It was not an effective escape route for those in the great hall, as it immediately wound down in a spiral to the kitchen three storeys below: there would be a stampede on those stairs as people tried to get out.