Dark Haven (19 page)

journey.

Kalcen’s eyes were so black that it was difficult to see their center. Tris felt the faint tingle of magic. “I would meet the man who weds my niece.”

He’s truthsensing, Tris realized, recognizing the prickle of magic. He sensed no threat, and permitted Kalcen his light mental touch. Kalcen seemed uninterested in the pleasantries of protocol. Rather than take offense, Tris felt relieved. “I love Kiara with all my heart,” Tris said. “I would give my life to keep her from harm.” Tris hoped the other was satisfied with what he sensed.

“Even in Eastmark, I’ve heard much about you, Bricen’s son. For the sake of my late sister, Queen Viata of Isencroft, I come to pay my respects.”

Tris gave a formal bow. “You are most welcome. We’re honored by your presence.”

Kalcen had a direct gaze that held nothing back, and Tris found himself liking this unexpected visitor. “Old ways are changing in the Winter Kingdoms. Our world is not the world our fathers knew. Our ways cannot be their ways. This marriage creates a blood bond among Margolan, Eastmark, and Isencroft. Such bonds are not made lightly.”

“I agree. It’s time to make a new bond from what our fathers put aside. These are dangerous times.”

“My seer dreamt of a great storm looming on the horizon, breaking over the Margolan mountains to the South. Even he was not sure of the dream’s meaning, but it bodes darkly. Your power as a Summoner is known even in Eastmark. But the living are sometimes more to be feared than the dead.”

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“Then let’s enjoy today,” Tris replied.

“Well said, King Martris. Now, my companions and I would take our rest. We’ve had a long journey.”

Crevan came immediately from where he stood near the doors. Tris made his farewell and took his leave. Kalcen’s warning kept him preoccupied for many hours, while he received the banal greetings of the nobles who still waited for their moment with the king.

Alone in his guest room, Jonmarc Vahanian paced. He listened to the courtyard bells chime the eighth hour. It would be three more until Carina would be free of official duties. Time passed far too slowly. He felt for the velvet pouch in his pocket that held the shevir. He’d know soon enough when he saw Carina whether he had any chance of getting her to accept the betrothal token. Gabriel’s right. There’s no reason to think she’s changed her mind. She’s wintering at Dark Haven—now I just have to get her to make that a permanent arrangement.

The knock at his door made Jonmarc glance up sharply, and his hand fell to the pommel of his sword. Cautiously, he opened the door.

“May I come in?” King Donelan of Isencroft stood framed in the doorway.

Caught completely off guard, Jonmarc managed to step aside. “Sure. Come in. Your majesty.”

Up close, Donelan was even more impressive than he had seemed at a distance. His hair was a darker auburn than Kiara’s and his complexion was more fair. Donelan’s recent illness showed in his eyes.

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“So you’re Jonmarc Vahanian,” Donelan said, planting his hands on his hips. “Kiara and Cam have told me quite a bit about you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

Donelan’s dark eyes were shrewd, and Jonmarc felt like an item for sale at a bazaar. “I understand you’re the new Lord of Dark Haven.”

“Very new.”

“And you wear your sword, even in your friend’s palace.”

Jonmarc shrugged. . “‘King’s Sword.’ Tris made the title up just so I had an excuse to wear my sword whenever I’m around him. Makes him feel safer that way.” He shook his head. “I’ll admit—after storming the battlements to get in here just last summer, it’s a bit strange to walk in through the front door. And I spent six weeks healing my bones in’ these rooms. I feel as if I never left.”

“Kiara’s told me some of what happened during that battle—although I suspect that she’s minimized the more dangerous parts that involved her.” Donelan cleared his throat. “I’ll come straight to the point. Carina’s like a daughter to me. I’m concerned for her happiness. I’ve given Carina leave to winter in Dark Haven. But before she goes, I would know— what are your intentions toward her?”

Any flippant remark that might have crossed Jonmarc’s mind died in his throat at the look in Donelan’s eyes. His mouth went dry. “I love

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her,” he said, finding his heart beating as quickly as if he were riding into battle. “I want to marry her.”

Donelan regarded him in silence for a moment. “Your reputation is not unknown— even in Isencroft. I’ve heard about Chauvrenne, and about later…escapades. What of the bounty hunters?”

Jonmarc drew a deep breath. “I’ve paid off the hunters. Tris lifted the bounty Jared set.

Everything’s settled—except for Eastmark.”

“Kiara told me about that, too. I’ve asked King Kalcen to remove the bounty.” The king took a step closer to Jonmarc, and his dark eyes blazed. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I’m entrusting Carina to your protection. If she’s in any way dishonored, I’ll personally set a bounty that will bring every hunter in the Winter Kingdoms to your doorstep. Am I understood?”

“Completely, your majesty.”

Just as quickly as he had grown serious, Donelan brightened. “Very well then, that’s done.

Now—I understand you’re partial to river rum. How about a drink?”

Kiara waited in her room, looking out the mullioned window at the bonfires that blazed in the courtyard below. Jae perched on her shoulder. She stroked the little gyregon absently, deep in thought. So much had changed since the night she and the others had battled Jared and Arontala within these same walls. Kiara listened to the bells chime the ninth hour, waiting for Donelan to escort her to yet another party in her honor. Carroway had done himself proud with the festivities; the ball would go on well into the night.

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A knock at the door roused her from her thoughts. Jae fluttered, instantly alert. Kiara opened the door carefully, keeping a hand near the dagger she concealed in a sheath beneath her sleeve.

King Kalcen of Eastmark stood in the hallway outside the open door. “You’re every bit your mother’s daughter.”

“Your majesty!” Kiara managed, remembering to curtsey. “Please, come into the sitting room. I was waiting for Father.”

Kiara looked at the man whom she knew only through letters. She could see Viata in Kalcen’s features. He had the same dark ‐eyes that Kiara had inherited from her mother, the same beautiful brown skin, and the same scent of musky incense that had often clung to his letters, a scent Kiara identified with Viata. Everything about Kalcen seemed at once exotic and heartbreakingly familiar. Kiara did not know whether to laugh or cry.

“My dear, it is so good to finally see you with my own eyes. The portrait you sent doesn’t do you justice.”

Kiara blushed and looked down, accepting Kalcen’s hand as they moved to sit by the fire.

Jae hopped down from her shoulder and sniffed at Kalcen, who reached down to gently touch the gyregon. Satisfied, Jae curled up by the fireside. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

Kalcen grinned. “I nearly didn’t accept the invitation from Margolan. But I couldn’t pass up the invitation from you.” He looked at her for a moment in silence.

“There’s a lifetime of things to tell you, and our time is short. But I came for Viata’s sake as much as yours. Our father was a great warrior and a good king in many ways. But he was also a man of 166

his times, fixed in some ideas that have outlived their usefulness. I think at the end he may have regretted the way he treated Viata, but he was too proud to ask forgiveness. I’ve tried, while striving to follow in his footsteps, to also learn from his mistakes.”

Kiara bit her lip. “Mother missed you terribly,” she said finally, her voice catching. She spoke Markian, and Kalcen looked up, surprised. “She rarely spoke of her father. But for all the years she lived in Isencroft, she never stopped being of Eastmark. It was in her blood. And while she did everything she could to adjust to her new home, I think she would have been happier knowing that Eastmark was still open to her.”

“That you speak our tongue like a native is all the witness I need to know you speak truly. I was just a boy when Viata and Donelan eloped. I was heartbroken—I loved her so dearly. And I watched Father’s anger with horror, terrified that something awful would happen. I didn’t really understand that we nearly went to war. I only knew that Vi might be hurt.”

“All those years,’ you wrote to her.”

“Not an easy thing—I had to have the letters smuggled into and out of Eastmark. Father would have had a fit if he’d known. He was not a forgiving person,” he said with a thin smile. “When I learned of her death, I grieved alone. Father had held her funeral years before—when she married an outlander.”

Old anger flared up inside Kiara. “Why was that such a crime? Mother wouldn’t speak of it, but how could that bring the Winter Kingdoms to the brink of war?”

Kalcen looked at the fire for so long that Kiara was afraid he might not speak. “East‐mark is an old kingdom and a proud people,” he said finally. “The Kings of Eastmark can trace our lineage back to the ancient days, to the warlords of the Southern Plains. The old tales say that when our people found the lands that would become Eastmark, they brought with them the Stawar God, one of the Old Gods who are lost now. The Lady wouldn’t grant us peace until the Stawar God consented to be her consort. That’s why we worship the Lover. The memory of the Stawar God 167

has faded. But he gave us His skin as a token to remember who we are.

“The old legends say that you can tell the honor and the strength of a man by the darkness of his skin—that those who are most like the fierce, wise, brave Stawar God are given His mark. And for generations, although East‐mark allowed others to serve and live and trade in its kingdom, intermarriage with an outlander was punishable by death. We were jealous guards of the Stawar God’s mark.”

Kiara was acutely aware of how pale she seemed in comparison to Kalcen, although in Isencroft she was as tawny as those who made their living out of doors. “It was unthinkable when Viata ran away with an outlander, even one whose reputation was as fine as Donelan’s. Father couldn’t believe that someone not of our blood could be as brave, as wise, or as strong as the sons of Eastmark.” He met her eyes apologetically. “There’s a word in our language I won’t repeat. But it summed up what Father believed of outlanders.”

“Sathirinim” Kiara murmured, and Kalcen flinched as she said it. “Corpse flesh. I heard the Eastmark ambassador say it once to Mother, before she banished him from the palace.”

“Old ways die hard, Kiara,” Kalcen’s dark eyes searched hers for understanding. “I make no excuses for Father. He held his beliefs sincerely. But he was sincerely wrong.” Kalcen took her hand in both of his. “It was the threat of war with Margolan that made Father back down. Even in his last years, he dreamed that he might somehow spirit you away from Isen‐croft and marry you to one of the Eastmark nobles, reinstating the blood.” Kalcen looked down and shook his head. “I knew my sister. I knew that Vi would choose a good man, a man who would be as fine a king as our ancestors. Later, when I was grown and went to battle, I saw that our hired outland troops bled the same color as our own, and fought with the same valor. And 1 knew that the measure of a man couldn’t be taken by the darkness of his skin.

“Still, it’s one thing to know something in your head. It’s another to know it in your heart. And so I came for Viata’s sake to see you and to meet King Martris. I had to know for myself whether he was a man of honor. My seers talk of storms and darkness. I believe it’s time for Eastmark to forge the alliances Father would not consider. Donelan and I have become allies. Staden and I are just beginning to talk. I hope that Margolan and Eastmark can sign an accord.” He looked 168

earnestly into her eyes. “For your sake, as well as Vi’s. It’s time to let go of the old ways.”

“Mother never spoke clearly of the real reasons for the rift—now I see why. I don’t know what to think—but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wish Viata could know that I’ve never forgotten her—and that she’s done more to shape Eastmark’s future than she could have ever‐realized.”

“I know someone who can arrange for you to tell her.”

Kalcen caught his breath. “Then it’s really true—your young man is a Summoner?”

Despite herself, Kiara laughed. “You know, that’s exactly what Mother said when Tris met her—’is this your young man?’” She dried her tears on her sleeve. “Let me ask Tris to call her.”

Kiara stood and walked to the door. A whispered word to one of the guards sent a servant running to bring the king.

Tris came more quickly than Kiara expected. There was disappointment in his eyes when he realized she wasn’t alone.

“I know you’ve met formally,” Kiara said, taking Tris’s hand and bringing him into the room. “But I’d like you to meet as family.” Kalcen and Tris both made a nod of acknowledgement toward the other. “And I was hoping that you would call for Mother,” Kiara said. “It would mean a lot to me.”

Tris glanced from Kiara to Kalcen and back again, and then nodded. Kiara let go of his hand and Tris closed his eyes, stretching out his mage sense on the Plains of Spirit. He reached out with one hand, extending the invitation. The air in the room grew cold, as if someone had flung open a window to the snowy night. A fine mist gradually solidified into a shape, and then into an 169

image of Viata. Kiara smiled. Behind her, she heard Kalcen gasp.

“I was with Donelan when you called me,” the spirit said. “It’s good that we’re all together once more.”

“Viata!” Kalcen gave a strangled cry and stepped forward. Viata moved to embrace her brother, gliding toward him and wrapping her insubstantial arms around him. “I never thought I’d see you again. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

Viata looked at Kalcen with great fondness. Now that they stood together, the resemblance between the two was unmistakable. “My little brother is now the King of East‐mark,” Viata said, reaching out as if to clasp Kalcen’s hand.

“The day I took the throne I struck down the law that kept you from coming home,” Kalcen said, seeking forgiveness in the ghost’s eyes. “It was too late for you. But it will never’tear another family apart. And now, because of you, because of Kiara, Eastmark is looking outward, taking a role among equals in the Winter Kingdoms. I believe it was the Lady’s hand that brought you to Isencroft,” Kalcen said. “I only wish She.had allowed you to see what good became of it.”