Circle of Reign (15 page)

“I was told not to,” he finally answered, the same as always but with a hint of resentment.

Hedron often replayed those first few spans in his mind following the fateful night that had changed his life forever. All of the hold guard had been dispatched and the hounds released, scouring the woods in search of Thannuel’s assassins. Hedron had been told firmly to remain in the hold. The excitement of the night overcame him and he did not obey.

He had visited her many times over those first several days when she seemed dead except for her breathing. More often than not he found her balled up and asleep in the tree. He left satchels full of food and a short blade he had stolen from one of the elderly common servants. He always left her undisturbed in her silent state until she finally emerged from her perch after many days. Even now she still had never spoken of those first many days. When Hedron tried to push her for details on what had happened, she started to shake violently, entering a fitful state, shaking her head as if trying to free herself or shake something from her. It tore Hedron apart inside to see his mother agonize over his father and his sister, thinking both had been lost. His mother had told everyone not to extinguish their hope for Reign, but most feared the worst.

“Hedron?” Reign asked in a drawn out way, raising her eyebrows. “Hello?”

He snapped out of his memory-induced trance and realized he had been staring blankly for a short time. “Sorry,” he said.

“And? What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing, really. I was just—” He was cut short by the vibrations of horses and carriages approaching. “Mother is returned!” he exclaimed.

Reign bolted upright, sensing it as well.

“We have to sneak you back out. Quickly!”

As the twins made their way back alongside the north wall toward the small opening, their attention was caught by a small group of men moving together. Hedron and Reign retreated back behind a pillar in the courtyard. Shane and the other servants he had brought in were heading to the arched gate where the carriage would pull into the courtyard. It was typical for the servants to receive an inbound party, no matter the hour. The hold master motioned for a couple servants to accompany him south and others to the east parts of the hold. Hedron didn’t think anything of it until he saw that they were armed.

“Keep going,” he whispered to Reign. “I’ll meet you at the crack.”

“Hedron?”

“I need to see something. I’ll be fine. Keep going.”

The lingering question of her greatest calling in her now altered life seemed to have been finally answered. Or, at least Moira felt certain she was on the correct path. The dedication and conviction required to tear down the Granite Throne would be immense, but she would not cease until it was accomplished. It was possible, it had to be. Somehow, in some way, it
must
be possible. She clutched Thannuel’s cloak that lay in her lap more firmly. It accompanied her everywhere she went when she stayed for even one night away from the hold.

It will pass to Hedron before many years
.

Moira had no training in battle, no army, no significant influence, no resources to accomplish her new calling. Just the firm conviction that accompanies righteous direction. But no matter the strength of that conviction or the justness of the path, she needed an ally with all she lacked. She thought of her sister, Molina, and her elderly father who lived half a day west of Riley’s Cove. Even if they believed and supported her, which they
undoubtedly would, she knew they could do little to help. Moira needed an ally with power and means.

She decided to seek out Lord Therrium at her earliest opportunity. Though she was exhausted from the journey physically, her mind raced with the details from her time with High Duke Wellyn. Warm wind whipped and howled around the carriage as they traveled through Calyn, a welcome change to the bone-chilling northern gales. They would reach the hold tonight before second moon.

Anxiety beset her and refused to let her body rest, but she was strengthened by purpose, direction.
It’s more than mere purpose
. What would she do with the new knowledge she had gained?
Knowledge
was probably too strong of a word. Wellyn had admitted nothing—verbally, at least. But she knew there was something at play, something beyond what was obvious upon an initial glance, something below the surface. Yes, it made more sense the more she pondered over it.
But why target Thannuel? What did he know?
Not for one moment did she entertain the notion that her husband had been what they said. She understood the propaganda released about Thannuel being a traitor was deception and meant to focus the masses’ attention elsewhere. Misdirection.
But what is Wellyn trying to divert attention
from
?
Impossible questions to find answers to without action. Pondering would only bring more questions.

Her thoughts turned to Antious…how he had believed Thannuel had planned on telling him something before he was killed. But something he could not tell her? Why would her husband not have told her? Did…did the High Duke’s claims have any…no, of course not. Thannuel was not a traitor, not plotting against Wellyn.

But
she was
, wasn’t she? Had she not found a reason? Motive? If Wellyn was the monster she now suspected, was it so inconceivable that Thannuel could have known…
known what?

And then horror pulled at her heart.
Could Reign have been the target?
No, that made no sense. She was under the age of innocence
and was no threat. She tried to flush the thought from her mind, but found that it would not be abated.

If Thannuel was involved in something…
She hated herself for even entertaining the notions propagated by Wellyn’s propaganda.
If he knew something…then Reign could have been used as an element of control
. The harder she tried to expunge her mind of the possibility the more she focused upon it until finally, the picture came more fully into view.

No. No, it couldn’t be true. It was nearly unconscionable to imagine a child under the age of innocence being threatened in the entire Realm. The laws of all Senthara on this point were solid as the Granite—
solid as the Granite Throne
, Moira almost thought, but recently the Granite Throne seemed less impervious than ever. Then, like a tidal wave of the Sea of Albery crashing against the Jarwyn Mountains, the truth thundered against her.

No! I won’t accept—
But nothing else made sense. This was the
only
thing that made sense.

Thannuel…was not the target. Oh, Reign, my sweet girl!

Frustrating, angering questions began to find answers in her mind that had lingered and refused to be quelled. The disparate links found connections…all but her husband being involved in treachery. She had to believe he had died honorably, as he had ever lived.

Reign must have seen
—
what would she have seen? What could she have?

Moira began to take the fragmented pieces of what she knew and puzzle them together.

There were people in forest, late at night. They were not wood-dwellers
. Moira had felt at least one on horseback and another on foot. But it was obvious that they had come from somewhere else, far enough to not easily be felt but close enough for Reign to find.

If Reign did witness something that scared her, she would have run
. And Moira knew her little one would have run toward safety.
Toward the hold. Thannuel would have felt her eventually. She must have been pursued. Pursued by what?

A confrontation ensued and somehow Thannuel was overcome. The heavy gait of the one fleeing northeast from the scene was as fast as a wood-dweller, but the vibrations she had felt were not those of an Arlethian.

Aiden reported the man had been carrying someone else across his back, either dead or wounded. The horse rider?
Moira wondered.
A soldier
, she finally decided. This seemed to be right in her mind after gleaning insights from her inquisition of Wellyn. Others besides soldiers used horses but generally not those of the West. But why not use the horse to escape faster? And then she remembered.

This monster that fled was faster than a horse
. She had assumed that Master Aiden had been exaggerating, taken by the horror of that night…but she was not so sure now. Surely nothing less than a beast of the fathomless abyss could have defeated Thannuel.
Northeast, he ran
.

Northeast of Calyn was much of the Eastern Province, including the state city of Erynx. But Moira also knew Iskele, the North’s state city, where High Duke Wellyn resided with his Khansian Guard, was northeast from Calyn.

The guilt she had felt that kept the sorrow and regret at bay was now gone, replaced. Sorrow and regret still attended her, but were now held in check and overshadowed by a new master: purpose.

No, not purpose. Fury
.

She must see Lord Therrium at once. But would he believe her? Would he act on nothing more than her word? What could he really do? What
would
he do?

She had considered waiting until morning and sending word by wing to Banner Therrium for an urgent meeting at daybreak, but decided she could not wait any longer. The stain on her family’s name was already unbearable and she feared for Hedron: how he would grow up, what he would think of his father? Would he believe the masses over time? Become indifferent? Bitter? Or just forgotten?
They had called him Kearon at the market
, she remembered. No, she must go tonight. Emboldened by her new certainty, she was resolute in her decision despite Shayla’s counsel for patience.

“Galvey,” Moira called to the coach’s driver. “We’ll stop in briefly at the hold to resupply and get fresh horses. Prepare the carriage as quickly as you can for a short trip to Hold Therrium.”

“Tonight, Lady Kerr?” the elderly master equestrian of House Kerr questioned with weariness in his voice.

“Yes, tonight. We will go as soon as you have made ready. Also, prepare a message upon our arrival to be sent by wing to General Roan. Bid him come to me at once.”

“As my Lady commands.”

Yes, Antious, there was something he was going to tell you. And we’re going to find out what
.

Master Aiden would be there, at Hold Therrium, as well. As master of the hold guard, he would likely be able to be in attendance when she addressed Lord Therrium. Yes, this would work.

And then
, she thought,
it won’t matter if Therrium is inclined to help or not. Antious and Aiden will burn the Realm down once they hear my words
.

“My Lady, is this wise?” asked Shayla, who sat across from her in the coach. Ghryn and Fhayil, the other two common servants with them, diverted their eyes. Shayla had never shied away from speaking her mind, sometimes to the point of seeming insurgent. “The first moon is already high. Surely Lord Therrium would receive us more enthusiastically in the morning. We will need him to be in his best mind.”

Perhaps she is right
.
It can wait one more night
. As these thoughts played in her mind, the fury burned hotter as if in response to any thought of procrastination. The feel of the thick coarse material of her husband’s cloak in her hands with the Kerr family’s insignia sewn into it fortified the decision. Her resolve hardened.

“Your counsel is wise, Shayla. But we will go tonight nonetheless. We cannot rest one more night. I cannot.” She paused as they came through the wide stone arched gate into the inner courtyard. “You may stay at the hold if you wish,” Moira added. “It has been almost a span since we left for Senthara. I will take another with me. Shane, perhaps, or—”

Moira stopped speaking as the coach entered the arched entrance on the south to the hold’s inner courtyard and came to a stop. She could have sworn she just felt—no it could not have been. It wasn’t possible, not here. She was gone, far from here or even worse. Taking a deep slow breath through her nose, she closed her eyes and calmed her ever-hopeful heart. The smell of blooming flowers and new, healthy foliage that had recently begun to resurface was soothing.

The first scream came from the east wing of the hold. Moira opened her eyes. A second scream echoed, someone much younger this time. Shayla and the other common servants inside the carriage went stiff. Shouting and pleadings arose, both men and women. A grunt came from just outside the carriage as it rocked slightly. Moira felt the thud of a body hit the ground and looked out her window to see Galvey sprawled on the ground, his box coat flapping in the wind and a pool of dark liquid spreading out under him. A crossbow bolt protruded from his abdomen. The postilion, a boy of only thirteen who had accompanied the party, yelped in pain and fell from the forward left horse but rose quickly and scrambled to crouch behind the left front wooden wheel. A thick arrow pierced his right shoulder and the force of it had knocked him from his mount. It was amazing the lad wasn’t screaming. The vibrations of several men heading toward the carriage at speed alerted Moira to possible incoming attack. She judged their number, three, and distance, roughly forty paces. They approached from the northeast section of the courtyard. More screams from the servant chambers in the east began erupting and the hold was coming alive with confused and alarmed inhabitants.