Bridge of Souls (14 page)

Celimus ignored everything Aremys had just listed. “Do you have her, Grenadyne?” the King bellowed.

“I do, sire,” Aremys lied, schooling his features to show an expression without guile. “Although I am not at liberty to tell
you how that came to pass or where she is.” He smiled. “I do not require payment for her capture, sire. I would not consider that fair,” he added, and chanced a soft grin.

The idea to use Ylena as bargaining power had only occurred to Aremys when he had stood before Captain Bukanan and had arrogantly claimed that he had something in store that would keep Cailech’s life safe. He had no idea where Wyl was or how he might reach him, but he reckoned Celimus would go along with the notion that Aremys was holding Ylena, not just because he was a mercenary paid to track her down, but because the King wanted her. Celimus’s own greed and cruel desire to visit more torture on this last remaining member of the Thirsk dynasty far outweighed any doubt of Aremys’s honesty—at least, that was what Aremys was counting on. How he would deliver on his promise or, more to the point, wriggle out of it, was a whole new problem, but for now he was bargaining for his life and Wyl was all he had. If he could win Celimus’s nod with the lie, he would also win his freedom from Cailech. He reassured himself that he had no intention of betraying Wyl; he was simply using Ylena’s name as the lure to buy some time and his own safety.

Celimus leapt to his feet. His eyes were dark and stormy with wrath, and Aremys wondered if he had misjudged the monarch. But he had not. The impending storm cleared as swiftly as it had gathered and the King began to laugh as he applauded Aremys.

“Bravo, Farrow. Bravo indeed. I shall guarantee your life and that of King Cailech for the duration of his stay on Morgravian soil. Is that good enough?”

“With all the other provisos in place, sire.”

“Yes, I agree. When?”

“When it suits you, your majesty. You are the host.”

“Where, Jessom?” Celimus asked.

“Here, of course, sire. Tenterdyn offers easy access to and from the border, plus the ambience of a provincial palace. I would suggest a feast and entertainment, your highness. Show
Cailech that you are a magnanimous host and prepared to extend the hand of fellowship while you hear what he has to say.”

“Good. See to it all, Jessom.” Celimus turned back to Aremys. “And Ylena?”

“I will start making preparations, sire,” Aremys said, feeling very nervous now.

“Waste not a minute, Farrow. Return to your captor and pass on your news. I expect the Thirsk woman to be delivered as soon as our talks are done.”

Aremys bowed and departed, eager to be out of the King’s sight.

S
O HOW DID THIS
A
REMYS FELLOW END UP IN THE
R
AZORS IF HE WAS WITH YOU IN
B
RIAVEL
?”
THE
Q
UEEN ASKED
,
HAVING DISCOVERED WHY BOTH
her guests had reacted so dramatically to the mention of the man’s name.

“I have no idea,” Wyl replied, feeling both relief and delight that Aremys was alive. “We lost each other in the north.”

“How does one lose someone?” Valentyna said, sipping her wine.

It was not a serious question and Wyl opted not to answer it. “Long story,” he murmured. “I have an idea,” he added hurriedly when it seemed the Queen might want to hear the long story. Fynch’s suggestion would work now, with this latest news about Aremys.

“A plan?” Valentyna repeated, fractionally sarcastic. She folded her arms.

“Yes. But you won’t care for it much.”

“What’s this about?” Crys queried.

“We have to buy some time with Celimus,” Wyl explained, and Crys nodded. “So we buy it with me.”

“He’ll kill you!” Valentyna exclaimed.

“No, he won’t,” Wyl said, not believing it himself.

“He razed Rittylworth Monastery and its village, killing dozens, before turning on Tenterdyn and slaughtering my family,” Crys said, his voice cold, “all to hunt you down. Don’t tell me he won’t kill you the moment he sees you.” Then he added, quietly, “You know what will happen!” He was stilled from saying anything further by a dark glare from Ylena.

“What will happen?” Valentyna asked, sensing a new tension.

Wyl shook his head, ignoring the Queen’s question. “He won’t kill me because of Cailech,” he said. “I’ll make sure to time my arrival when the King of the Mountains is present. If they’re planning some sort of treaty, Celimus won’t be so stupid as to demand the death of a noble before his newly formed partnership, will he?”

“Won’t he?” Valentyna said, an appalled expression accompanying her query. “You’re gambling an awful lot on his sense of courtesy.”

Wyl was relieved she had been diverted, and replied, “I know Celimus. I grew up around him. If he has one outstanding quality, it is his charm. No, I don’t think he will harm me while he needs to maintain outwardly calm relations.”

“And what about afterward, when Cailech’s gone? Why will he care then?” she demanded.

“Because I shall be gone too. Aremys is there—he will help me escape.”

“No,” Valentyna said from the fireplace, her voice raised. “I can’t let you do it. It’s ridiculous and of no substance. I won’t permit it.”

Wyl took a silent breath. He would not enjoy this next statement. “I am not yours to command, your highness.”

The words hit her as effectively as a punch. She struggled to control her expression as pain battled with her defenses. “My apologies, Ylena. I think I misunderstood our talk earlier,” the Queen replied, her tone as tepid as the congealed gravy around the chicken they had all forgotten to eat.

“No, your highness. There is no misunderstanding. I am loyal to you and to Briavel. That will never change. But I will make my own decision on how to serve.”

“You will be going to your death, Ylena!” the Queen snapped.

“I don’t believe so, but I choose that path come what may.”

“Not on my behalf! I will
not
have your blood as well as your brother’s on my hands.”

“I’m sure you tried to order Wyl around too, your highness, but it seems you lost that argument as well. I am just as stubborn when it comes to protecting those I love.” The bit about love had slipped out. Wyl felt Ylena’s face color afresh at the error.

Valentyna missed the slip. “Ylena, you are barely into your womanhood!” she exclaimed.

“And it is my womanhood which demands I leave your table, your highness. Please forgive me,” Wyl said, suddenly feeling a most unpleasant release to the build-up of pain that had accompanied him all day. Still, it was a welcome excuse to get away from the Queen’s commands.

Crys looked baffled but the Queen, still angry, could only nod. She understood precisely Ylena’s predicament. “By all means.”

Wyl fled toward his chamber, clean linens, and a fresh brew of raspberry-leaf tea. He hated being a woman. And he especially hated the disdain shown to women by others of the same sex. How dare Valentyna consider Ylena unworthy?
Well, that’s not really fair,
he told himself as he ran up the last flight of stairs. Not unworthy, but certainly ineffective. He thought of Faryl and wished Valentyna had had the opportunity to meet her. Then the Queen would have seen a woman hold her own against a man.

He spent the next few minutes with an expression of disgust on his face as he sipped at the raspberry-leaf tea and replaced the linens. He felt quite worn out by the end of it all and, in a fit of pique, changed into his favored trews and shirt, although he had to admit the skirt was easier to wear in his current condition.

Shar, please deliver me from this,
he prayed as he drank the bitter tea.
Let me be a man again.

A knock at the door interrupted his plea. He was not surprised to see that it was Valentyna, but he was embarrassed.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Of course, your highness,” Wyl said, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s quite all right. It is I who should apologize. Forgive my interruption,” Valentyna began. “Oh, good, I see you’ve brewed more leaf. How are you?”

“Oh, you know, first night,” Wyl said, offering a half smile like an old hand.

“Had you hoped you were pregnant?” the Queen startled him by asking in her most gentle tone.

“No, your highness. I knew I wasn’t,” Wyl lied, unable to think of anything more enlightening.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I just thought that, newly married, you and Alyd had probably…well, you know…”

“Yes,” Wyl interjected, disturbed by where the conversation was headed. He had never felt more of an impostor. “No baby, though.”

Valentyna looked wistful. “You know, Ylena, there are moments when I wish more than anything that I had joined with Romen and that his seed had quickened my womb.”

Wyl had to look away. This was too painful. He busied himself with tidying his discarded clothing.

Valentyna rallied a smile and changed the subject. “I see you’ve changed out of the gown. Not to your liking?”

“It’s lovely, your highness. I just got so used to these comfortable clothes while traveling.”

Valentyna nodded knowingly. “I often prefer my breeches
myself. Men have it good. I often wish I was a man, don’t you, Ylena?”

“I do, your highness. I’m wishing it right now in fact.” Wyl had never spoken a truth with more passion.

She took his intensity in a different light. “Ah yes, I can understand why. You presumably get a lot of pain. I must admit that I escape the cramps. Shar is merciful with me.”

“Do you look forward to children of your own?” Wyl asked, desperate to push away from the subject of women’s ailments and yet not doing so very successfully.

“I do. I’ve decided it’s the one good thing that might come out of this hateful marriage. Celimus won’t have my love, but he can have my body. He will give me something far more precious than he takes.”

Wyl grimaced as the fresh ache from his side joined with the pain of the image of Celimus siring a child upon Valentyna.

Valentyna filled the difficult pause. “I came here to apologize for my heavy-handed tactics earlier. Even as a little princess, I bossed everyone around,” she said, trying to lighten the mood swirling about them. “I know I cannot permit or deny you anything, Ylena. I just don’t want you to forfeit your life in order to save me from Celimus.”

“I don’t think I can save you from the marriage, but I can give you more time to get used to the idea,” Wyl said, the resignation in his comment agonizing in its truthfulness.

“But you can’t guarantee that you will escape.”

“There are no guarantees in life, your highness. I have lost too much in too short a time to care anymore.”

“But I don’t want to lose you as well,” the Queen said, her tone plaintive.

“You won’t.”

“What exactly is your plan?” Valentyna said. “No, wait, let’s have some warmed milk sent up. We can lace it with some liquor to help you sleep and forget your pains.”

Wyl nodded. Valentyna looked outside and called to Stewyt, who had been positioned for the night outside the door, sending him to the kitchens.

“Now, tell me everything,” she said, curling up next to Ylena on the deep sofa near the fire.

She was unbearably close but Wyl would have slashed his own throat sooner than ask her to sit apart from him. If this was all he could have, it would have to be enough.

“I shall go to Felrawthy, present myself before King Celimus—ensuring that King Cailech is in attendance—and beg Morgravia’s indulgence.”

“But what is your aim? I can’t see the point if I have to marry him anyway.”

“Well, among other things, to get the Legionnaires redeployed from Briavel’s border. Their presence is making your people very nervous, and rightly so.”

“But you said it was only a ploy.”

“I am assuming that, your highness. I can’t truly speak for Celimus’s whims. Regardless, I would see the physical movement of the Legion away from the border.”

“And you think he’ll do it?” the Queen asked, amazed.

“Yes. I’ll tell him that you are nervous, that you feel intimidated and threatened—which is, of course, his intention. I’ll assure him that your personal preparations are well advanced and I’ll give him a token of your loyalty to him and the truth of your claims.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me.”

“So he can kill you!” Valentyna exclaimed, exasperated again.

“He won’t do that in front of Cailech, your highness. But he will be appeased. He will realize that for you to relinquish me, you have been duly intimidated. The plan is perfect in its simplicity. My presence will confirm not only your commitment to peace and the marriage, but also your desire to appease him—you have gladly turned over his enemy who had run to you for protection.”

“And how does that save you, Ylena?”

“It doesn’t—but please, your majesty, let me worry about saving myself. I have a few tricks of my own.”

“Oh, you’re so frustrating!” Valentyna replied. “You sound like Wyl and Romen rolled into one.” Then she stopped, shocked at what she had said without thinking.

“Do I? How odd,” Wyl replied.

They stared at each other, the candlelight and flames from the fire combining in a soft glow across their beautiful faces. They were so close, Wyl realized. Too near. Close enough to kiss. A madness came over him and smothered his judgment. It was the move of a lunatic and he knew it, but still he leaned across the few inches separating his mouth from the Queen’s and placed Ylena’s lips to Valentyna’s.

The Queen reacted as if burned by a spitting coal from the fireplace. She leapt to her feet, wiping frantically at her mouth. “Ylena!” she spluttered, shock and anger combined on her face.

Wyl felt frozen with horror at his actions. “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage. “I beg your forgiveness, your highness.”

The Queen appeared uncertain whether to flee or slap the woman before her. Then she gathered her wits. “No,” she said, holding up a hand. “I must have been giving off all the wrong signals. Forgive me, Ylena, I should not have come to your chamber tonight. All this talk of babies and changing into men…” She laughed awkwardly and then that awful expression of disgust crossed her face again.

Wyl stood, feeling sorry for both of them. “The apology is all mine, Valentyna. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve been through a lot these few weeks and the emotions have got me all confused,” he offered. It was pathetic even to his own ears, but he pressed on, desperate to fill the vile and difficult silence that would surely prevail if he did not keep talking and backing her toward the door. “It’s been a very long two days for me, without much sleep, and I shall put it down to the raspberry-leaf tea clouding my judgment, your highness.”

“Yes,” Valentyna stammered, none of her mortification dissipating. “I’ve heard it can make one hallucinate.”

“You don’t even look the tiniest bit like Alyd,” Wyl said,
hating himself for the weak jest at the expense of his beloved sister and friend.

There was a knock at the door and the Queen started, her hands wringing each other. “That will be the milk,” she said, and Wyl heard the slightly hysterical note in her voice. He lowered his head, ashamed of himself as never before. “I’ll leave you, Ylena,” Valentyna managed with some grace.

“No, I’ll leave you, your highness,” Wyl said, bending to kiss her hand. He could feel her fingers pulling away with revulsion at the touch of Ylena’s lips and could have wept at his own lack of control and stupidity of moments earlier. He would never forgive himself and she certainly would not.

The Queen, flushed and agitated, pulled open the door and pushed past the same serving maid who had helped Wyl earlier.

“Thank you,” he said wearily to the girl as she placed the milk on a small side table. “Can you ask the page to bring me parchment, quills, and ink, please?”

T
here was not anything to pack, and nothing other than his memories to keep him here a minute longer. He lifted the letters from the desk and blew out the flickering candle, leaving behind the debris of his hurried toil—sealing wax, broken nibs, ink blotches, as well as various letters begun and crumpled on the floor, where he had tossed them in frustration. He bent now to pick them up and threw them into the embers of the fire he had not bothered to tend. The paper sputtered and curled before catching and burning quickly in a brief eruption of flames. He watched until his awkward words of explanation to the woman he loved were nothing but blackened flakes—just like the fragile relationship he had clung to and now ruined.