Griffin's Daughter (32 page)

“
And I with you, Son. I have written to Leonus to tell him that our contract can go ahead as planned. With the gods’ luck and a little good timing, you should have Leonus’s daughter wedded, bedded, and pregnant by fall’s end.”

“
That is what I need to talk about, Father. I don’t want to marry that girl.”

“
What you want doesn’t matter,” the duke sniffed. “You’ll do as you’re told. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Magnes pulled his hair in frustration. He could feel the pressure building within him, threatening to boil over in an explosion of fury. “Father, listen to me!” he cried. “I
will not
marry Duke Leonus’s daughter!”

“
I strongly advise you
not
to defy me,” the duke growled dangerously.

The dam within him burst and swept Magnes along on the crest of the wave. “I will abdicate my position and take priestly vows if you insist on this marriage! We all know Thessalina should be your Heir, anyway. Give it to her, Father. It’s what we both want. Set me free, I beg of you!” he cried.

Without warning, the duke rose from his chair and rushed Magnes, pinning him against the wall by the fireplace. Magnes gasped in surprise, alarmed at how easily his father could hold him.  “Please, Father,” he croaked.

“
Shut up!
I know what this is all about. Don’t think I don’t know about you and my game warden’s daughter. Who d’you think had the little whore packed off to Greenwood in the first place, eh?”

A red fog shrouded his brain, and Magnes howled.

The next few moments rushed by in a blur of fists, and screams, and the sound of things breaking, and excruciating pain, and still more screaming, and blood.

Blood!

Blood on my hands!

The red fog lifted, and Magnes looked down into the blank eyes of his father.

“
Father?” he whispered.

The duke did not answer.

Magnes raised his dripping hands to his face and moaned in horror. He staggered to his feet and stumbled backward, away from the hearth upon which the duke lay, his broken skull resting in a rapidly spreading puddle of gore. A gobbet of hair, skin, and blood dangled from the sharp stone corner of the mantelpiece.

A loud crash exploded behind him. Magnes whirled around to see a chambermaid standing at the partly open door of the study. A heavy tray lay at the girl’s feet, shards of crockery and food splattered in a heap upon the carpet. Face white with shock, she pressed her hands to her mouth and stared, first at the duke’s lifeless body, then at Magnes.

Magnes nearly choked on the bile rising in his throat. Pointing at the corpse, he croaked, “My father must have fallen and hit his head…We were arguing…Oh, gods!”

The maid’s eyes widened with fear. Her mouth worked, but no words came out.

“
It was an accident,” Magnes whispered plaintively. “I didn’t mean…”

Oh, gods, I didn’t mean to kill him! Did I?

A wave of weakness threatened to topple him. His muscles began to twitch uncontrollably as his mind succumbed to panic.

I’ve got to get away, run away, they’ll think I murdered him, I’ll hang!

It was an accident! Someone please believe me!

The maid opened her mouth and screamed.

Magnes bolted past her and ran, fleeing up towards his apartments, the girl’s shrieks feeding his own terror.

Back in his chambers, he stopped just long enough to scoop up his hunting knife and a small pouch of coins he kept beneath his mattress. From his window, he could hear shouts. The maid’s screams had been heard.

Got to leave now, or they’ll catch me!

Cautiously, he opened the outer door of his chambers and paused to listen. He heard the sound of many feet pounding up the stairs toward his father’s study. A heartbeat later, the hoarse shouts of men crying out in dismay, followed by the piteous weeping of the maid sent him stumbling out into the darkened corridor. He turned and rushed away from the main staircase to a smaller, back stairway that led down to a side door in the outer wall of the keep. Under the cover of darkness, he slipped out of the keep and quickly made his way to the stables.

Inside the barn, the soft snores of horses at rest filled the warm air. Silently, Magnes glided down the rows until he reached the stall of his favorite mount. Storm greeted him with a sleepy whicker, and Magnes stroked the horse’s velvet nose. Briefly, he pressed his face to the warm skin, then reluctantly moved on to the next stall. He would have to leave Storm behind yet again. He knew that, eventually, he would have to sell whatever horse he rode out on tonight, so Storm must stay at Amsara.

Magnes had never ridden Storm’s neighbor, an unassuming piebald gelding. The horse was small, but looked sturdy enough; in any event, he would have to do. Magnes went to the tack room to fetch a saddle and bridle, and soon had the beast ready.

As he led the horse cautiously out of the stall, a childish voice broke the relative quiet. “Oi! Who goes there? What are you doin’?”

Gods, Dari!

“
Hush, Dari!” Magnes hissed. “It’s me, Lord Magnes!”

Dari appeared at Magnes’s side, carrying a stub of candle. He held it up, and in the flickering light, Magnes could see the look of puzzlement on the boy’s freckled face. “Lord Magnes, sir. I didn’t know t’was you. I was just on me way to the privies. If you don’t mind me wonderin’, sir, but it seems awfully late t’ be goin’ out.”

“
Please, Dari. Listen very carefully. You can’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“
But why?”

“
Don’t ask me any questions! I need to go now.” Magnes immediately regretted the sharpness of his response. “I’m sorry, Dari, but I must go.”

The boy let out a startled cry. “M’lord! You…ye’ve got blood all over yer shirt, sir! Wha’ happened? Are ye hurt?”

“
Remember what I said to you,” Magnes repeated fiercely. The young groom nodded slowly, wide-eyed with bewilderment. Magnes snatched a spare saddle cloth down from the stall railing and draped it over his shoulders; a poor attempt at hiding the incriminating bloodstains, but he could think of nothing else. He clicked his tongue and the horse followed him out into the yard. He checked the saddle girth and mounted, but before he could turn the horse toward the gate, Dari reached up and put his hand on the rein.

“
Lord Magnes, will I ever see you again?” The boy gazed up at him, a sad, knowing look in his eyes.

“
Dari…” Magnes’s voice caught, and he had to pause in order to keep from sobbing. “I don’t know. I’ll pray to the gods, that I might return home someday. You’re a good boy, Dari. I’m sorry you got involved.” He looked toward the keep and muttered, “It was an accident.”

From the direction of the keep, faint shouts drifted on the night breeze.

“
What was, Lord Magnes?” Dari whispered. “What accident?”

Magnes did not answer. He shook the reins and tapped the gelding’s flanks with his heels. The muffled clop-clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard packed earth beat in counterpoint to his pounding heart. He looked back once to see Dari standing motionless, his face eerily lit from below by the candle stub in his hand.

“
Evening, milord,” the guardsman said in greeting as Magnes rode up to the outer gate.

“
Goin’ out so late, sir?” his fellow guardsman inquired.

Magnes had to think fast. He put on a sheepish grin. “Um, well, yes. You see, there’s this girl who lives out on the Greenwood Road and, well, her father…”

Both guards guffawed. “Say no more, milord. We get yer meanin’!” the first guard said in a cheerfully conspiratorial tone. His eyes flicked to the saddle cloth over Magnes’s shoulders, and his brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he made no comment.

“
Aye, that we do,” the second added. “We was both young and unmarried once!” The men scrambled to open the gate, just wide enough for Magnes to ride through.

“
Will ye be back before or after sunrise, sir?”

“
After, most definitely,” Magnes replied. He could hear the guards snickering as the gate swung shut.

The night engulfed him, warm and very dark. He had only the light of the stars to see by. Once again, Magnes found himself leaving Amsara in the dead of night with virtually nothing, except that this time, he was the fugitive. The horse proved to be sure-footed and steady as they wound their way down the steep switchbacks and into Amsara village.

Just as he had two days ago, he took the track that skirted the village and ended up on the road that led past the homestead of Livie’s parents, the road that would eventually take him all the way to Darguinia, city of the Emperors. A man could lose himself among the multitudes there, shed an old identity, and invent a new one.

All around him, the darkness hummed, alive with the sounds of a late summer country night. A soft breeze tickled the nape of his neck, still wet with the sweat of shock and fear. Loneliness, dense and heavy, settled over him.

He burst into tears and wailed like a child.

Confessions And Heartache

"Is she not the most magnificent woman in all of Alasiri, Little Brother?” Sadaiyo drawled, eyeing his wife-to-be over the rim of his silver wine goblet.

Ashinji had to agree with part of Sadaiyo’s assessment—Lady Misune Dai was indeed magnificent, in the manner of a glacier or an ice-rimmed lake in winter. To his eyes though, her cold beauty held no allure.

The Ceremony of Welcoming had taken place earlier that evening. Misune’s parents had brought her before the members of the House of Sakehera, assembled in the small chapel reserved for private family worship, clad only in a simple white robe, her hair unbound. There, Ashinji had intoned the ritual chants that bound Misune to her new family; afterward, the bride-to-be retired to the guest quarters so that she might rest for a time before preparing herself for the feast.

“
You and she will make a perfect match, Brother,” Ashinji commented dryly.

Sadaiyo either didn’t notice, or didn’t care about the subtle insult. He grinned wickedly. “One more day, and then she’ll be mine. I can barely control myself, and she’s practically across the room! Come our wedding night, I’ll ride her so hard, she’ll scream and come like she’s never done in her life! Then in the morning, I’ll tell you all about it!”

Ashinji sighed and took a pull from his glass. Sadaiyo never tired of this game, and as the evening progressed, he knew that his brother’s comments would become increasingly crude. He was thankful that their sister Lani sat well out of earshot, beside their mother.

Sadaiyo turned his attention to the older man seated to his left, a minor lord from Dai’s retinue, giving Ashinji a welcome respite. He allowed his eyes to wander over the elegant gathering. The bride now sat revealed—her veil thrown back so that all present might admire her—straight and proud between her father and older brother, Ibeji. Ibeji Dai reminded Ashinji of a young eagle—all sharp angles and glittering, amber eyes.

Brother and sister were deep in conversation. Occasionally, Misune would look up to stare boldly at Sadaiyo, as if taking his measure.

“
I see you staring at her, Ashi. What would that delicious little mongrel messenger say if she knew you were lusting after another woman, eh?”

Ashinji glared at his brother, struggling to control his fury, but Sadaiyo’s smirk made it all but impossible.

“
I understand your envy of me, little Brother. I will soon have a real woman in my bed, while you…” Sadaiyo’s lip curled, “you must content yourself with, um, tainted meat.”

Ashinji rose abruptly from his chair, tossed off the last of his wine, and excused himself with a muttered apology to his startled parents. Fuming, he stalked from the great hall out into the night, Sadaiyo’s mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

Ashinji walked quickly, unmindful of direction, his only thought to escape his brother’s toxic presence. He had come perilously close to losing control and had nearly smashed his fist into Sadaiyo’s face.

Eventually, his boiling anger cooled, and he found himself among the fragrant blooms of his mother’s private garden. He sat down on a wooden bench carved in the shape of two sea creatures entwined, their flukes upraised to form arm rests.

He wondered what Jelena was doing at this very moment. Was she thinking of him, longing for his embrace as much as he longed for hers? He knew that she could feel the tug of the undeniable connection between them. He could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at him. He loved her, and he felt certain that she loved him, but was love enough?

Could his desire to be with Jelena come from selfishness, considering all of the obstacles they would face? She had, by far, the most to lose. She had no family to protect her, and Lord Sen could cast her out with impunity if she became too much of an inconvenience.

No,
Ashinji thought.
Father would not do that, even if he thinks Jelena would be trouble for me. He’s not that kind of man.

Lord Sen did know how to take care of a problem, though. He would simply arrange to transfer Jelena’s service to another household, as far away from Kerala as possible.

Ashinji stood up from the bench, full of restless energy. He thought of going down to the barracks to see Jelena, but reluctantly dismissed the idea.
No, not yet,
he thought. After the wedding ceremony, he would speak to her, confess his love, and together, they could decide what to do. He spent the remainder of the evening walking the battlements, thinking about his future.