King (11 page)

“Thank you, sirs.” Kien closed the door, pondered his situation, then grinned. Grabbing his cloak, he strode from his rooms, asking directions at every turn to navigate this maze of a palace. At last he reached the royal stables and his gluttonous destroyer, who was tended by a handful of nervous stable hands.

Clearly intimidated by Scythe’s monstrous form and by the huge crescents he’d bitten into the rim of his water barrel, the stable hands backed away. Scythe grumbled threats at his hapless handlers while crushing a chunk of wood between those gleaming destroyer-teeth. The stable hands fled. Kien stifled a laugh. “Hush, you monster! And enough wood. You’ll give yourself indigestion.”

Scythe curled his equine lips slightly, but continued chewing as if Kien didn’t exist.

Fine. How might a master best gain his irritable monster’s attention? With one word. “Ela.”

The black ears perked, and the chewing halted. Kien grinned. “Let’s shine you up a bit, then we’ll depart. You can track her down for me—at a quiet walk.”

Poor unsuspecting prophet. A good thing she’d never been able to predict what Kien Lantec might do next, because he wanted to catch her completely off guard.

She must answer for the blame he’d just accepted.

 11 

F
inished tidying her study area at the temple site, Ela kneeled in the evening light with Tamri Het and Matron Prill beneath the canopy to wait for Father. “It’s been a long day. But at least there’s been no trouble. And, look. . . .” She dug into her leather coin purse and pulled out her newest treasure. “Barth gave me his latest baby tooth!”

Tamri laughed. “That is an honor, Ela-girl. He’s in love with you, I’m sure.”

“He’s a flirt, but a wonderful student.” Ela smiled at the small white tooth and tucked it safe inside her purse again. Barth’s class was her favorite by far.

Matron Prill’s thin face puckered with worry. “Are you truly keeping his tooth?”

“Of course, Prill. I must. Knowing Barth, he’s going to start every class for the next month by asking me if I still have his tooth.”

“True,” Prill admitted. “But you’d think his parents would want it.”

“We’ll offer it to him next time we meet, just to be sure. I—” A shadow passed through the sun’s evening rays, dimming everything beneath the canopied study area. Ela glanced toward the light’s obstruction, then looked again. A massive black beast was crossing the temple site, approaching her. A destroyer? Recognizing the animal, Ela’s spirit leaped.
Her
destroyer. “Pet!”

And Kien! Oh, Kien . . . Even within the shadows, she saw his
dazzling grin—gorgeous man. Safe. And here, finally! “Infinite, thank You!” She snatched up the branch and rushed to greet her favorite monster-horse and his master.

Behind her, Tamri called in a warning tone, “Ela-girl, don’t you dare run away!”

“I won’t!” But what a wonderful thought. If she were anyone else . . .

Pet—she
wouldn’t
call him Scythe—greeted her with a tender nose-nudge and a gusty wood-scented sigh. Careful to avoid smacking Pet with the branch, she tiptoed and hugged as much of his neck as possible. “Dear monster! I’ve missed you!”

Jumping off the last rung of the destroyer’s war collar, Kien protested. “What about me?”

Ela looked up at Kien and caught her breath. She must
no
t hug him, and certainly no kissing. That would be bad prophet behavior. But how dare he look at her in such a way—admiring her openly, his gray eyes gleaming so avidly that she blushed. “Yes, I’ve missed you too. How long will you be visiting in Munra?”

The joy faded from his eyes. “You didn’t receive my letter?”

“No. Only a tiny cipher yesterday, noting that you’d arrive soon. Were you acquitted?”

Seeming pained, he spoke so quietly that she barely heard, “I was exiled.”

“From the Tracelands? For how long?”

“Life.”

He’d been permanently exiled from his home? “Kien,
why
?”

“When my letter arrives, as it should have several days ago, you can read the whole miserable account.” His voice flattened to bleakness. “Never mind. I’m here to visit you.” Glancing around the site, Kien’s beautiful, pale eyes brightened. “This is where the Infinite’s temple will stand?”

“Yes, and I’m so grateful!” Ela’s heart lifted, her soul soaring with the thought. “I’ve mourned over Parne’s temple. I never knew how much I loved the Infinite’s Holy House . . . how much all the survivors loved the temple until we watched our own
fall—and rightfully so.” Smiling, watching Kien survey the site, she added, “Parne’s refugees have been rejoicing ever since the king issued his decree that the temple must be rebuilt. Though the Ateans are threatening the work. Father—”

“Ateans!” His elation fading, Kien turned, his cloak swirling with the movement. “Of course they’d try to destroy anything that the Infinite’s faithful cherish.” He sighed. “Let’s discuss a slightly different matter.”

“All right.” She’d tell him of Father’s near-death later. Determined to be patient, she clicked the end of the branch on the pavings beneath her sandaled feet. “What are we discussing?” Because if he offered marriage a third time she’d say no. She would. And hopefully she’d be convincing to Kien and herself.

Still somber, he lifted a dark eyebrow, looked around at others working on the site, then whispered, “Ela, before I’d even unpacked my gear this afternoon, three of the king’s advisors called on me. Accusing me of hiding my relationship with you, thereby causing the king severe emotional distress.
And
—not to bring up such a hateful subject again—he’s married an Atean.”

“I’ve heard the queen’s an Atean, and I hope to speak with her. But . . .” Ela felt herself blush, remembering the king’s proposal. “Are his advisors blaming me because I refused to marry Akabe?”

“Me. They’re blaming me, Ela.” He grimaced, captivating her with that wry twist of his lips. “But I’m worried about your reputation.”

“Wait.” Ela lifted a hand. This conversation had just shifted to something worse than simple blame. “
My
reputation?”

“Yes.” Kien leaned closer and murmured, “Once this story becomes known, if the queen’s a rabid Atean like her predecessor, you might be condemned for rejecting the king. Do you think Siphra will ever forgive you?”

If Akabe’s new wife was truly Atean like the former Queen Raenna . . . Ela shivered. In the end, after Siphra’s revolution, Queen Raenna had succumbed to madness. Possessed by ghastly soul-shadowing deceivers—servants of the immortal
Adversary—she’d dashed herself to death on the rocks below the royal terrace. Within that same evening, King Segere hanged himself in his beloved Raenna’s apartments.
Would
the Siphrans forgive her if Ela had inadvertently brought another queen like Raenna into power? “I suppose not.”

Kien clasped Ela’s hand, startling her with the warmth of his touch. “Once malicious gossip starts, it’s nearly impossible to stop. Believe me. We must work together to mitigate this Atean situation. Meanwhile,” Kien’s tone softened, “the most sensible thing you can do to stave off gossip—and the fairest compensation for my sacrifice in accepting the blame—is to marry me.”

Oh? She stared at him. Kien smiled. And his gray eyes lit with mischief. Was he enjoying her embarrassment? He was. Actor! Schemer! “You’re hoaxing me!”

“Not at all.” He grinned. “It’s the truth. Though you’re not helping matters by yelling—”

“I’ll yell if I want to! You’re bullying me!” She swung the branch at him.

Kien snatched it from her hand. “I’m not bullying you! I . . . Hey . . .”

Ela followed his gaze and stared at the branch. In
his
hand. He’d never managed to touch the miraculous vinewood before, much less take it from her. Infinite! She lunged for her treasured insignia. “Give that back!”

“Ha!” Kien whipped the branch out of her reach and wrapped his free arm around Ela’s waist, restraining her. “I win!”

Pet trotted around them in a nervous circle now, obviously agitated by their squabble, his big hooves drumming the ground. Beyond him, Tamri, Prill, and a growing crowd all stared.

Really, despite Kien’s fine words about fearing for her reputation, he certainly wasn’t helping matters. “Kien!” Ela yanked at his long mantle, then his sleeve. “Give. Me. My. Branch!”

“No!” He whooped and swung her in a half-circle, definitely celebrating. “This means something, doesn’t it? I have the Infinite’s approval to marry you!”

“You don’t know that!”

“And you do?” he taunted, setting her down, but still holding her tight. “
Do
you? Did you ask the Infinite about our marriage, Ela?
Ever?
”

Well, no, because she’d presumed . . . Horrified, Ela shut her eyes. Infinite? Is it true? Must I marry him?

Unperturbed silence answered her question. A waiting calm that told her nothing. Infinite—not helpful! However, couldn’t this silence mean that the Infinite was impartial about the situation? Then the decision was actually hers. Reassured, and—if she must admit it—smug, Ela poked Kien’s ribs. “Let me go. I don’t have to marry you if I don’t want to!”

Dan Roeh’s deep, stern voice interrupted, “I disagree.”

Father! Ela gasped and shoved at Kien. He removed his arm from her waist, but held her hand. To protect her? Or to protect himself?

Pet loomed behind them now, calmer despite Dan’s threatening stance.

Dan glared. “I’ve had enough! Ela, I’m tired of chasing off your suitors. You’ll marry this man, or I’ll give you to the next one who asks—no matter who he is.”

“Father!”

Ignoring her, Father nodded at Kien. “Lantec. Send word to your parents, then let me know when they’ll arrive in Munra. We’ll celebrate your wedding the following day.”

“Yes, sir,” Kien murmured, looking suitably meek.

“Meanwhile . . .” Father grabbed Ela’s wrist and pulled her away from Kien. “No more public scenes. If you want to visit my daughter, you’ll have to request my permission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And”—Dan scowled at Pet—“you keep this destroyer off the temple grounds until the building is completed. Those vibrations he throws off are shaking the foundations!”

“Sorry, sir.” However, Kien looked anything but sorry. He offered the branch to Ela with a courteous nod—so polite that he might have been returning a dropped scarf. But his eyes glittered, and he bit his lip.

Obviously laughing inside like a wild man.

“Huh!” Ela snatched the branch and turned away, huffy as Pet in a foul mood.

Wearing his finest dark blue clothes, which were creased from the journey, Kien strode into Siphra’s throne room. No surprise that he’d been ordered here. Before so much as speaking to the king, Kien must do the one thing he’d never in his Tracelander’s life expected he’d do.

He marched up the length of the throne room, aware of Siphra’s courtiers all staring, eager to see him accomplish this first ceremony as a Siphran. Fine. Let them stare. Throughout his childhood, he’d been thoroughly trained by every etiquette master that Rade and Ara Lantec could gather. And his training had been cruelly polished in the royal courts of Istgard facing the despotic King Tek An. He, Kien Lantec, could surely survive Siphra’s royal court.

Kien halted before Akabe, who watched from his throne on the dais, somber as one about to pronounce a death sentence. And, in a way, this was a death.

Resolute, Kien unbuckled his Azurnite sword and placed it at the king’s feet. Then he knelt and offered Akabe his bare hands. Looking the king straight in the eyes, he said, “Majesty, I pledge before all and the Infinite that I will faithfully serve you, Akabe of Siphra, as my king. I will never cause you or your heirs harm and will defend you completely, in good faith and without deceit before all living.”

Akabe leaned forward and gripped Kien’s hands. His voice formal and carrying throughout the throne room, the king said, “I accept your pledge and will honor your place as you ever deserve.” Now Akabe grinned. “Stand, Lord Aeyrievale!” Beneath his breath, he muttered, “Welcome, my friend!”

Unable to speak, Kien nodded and stood.

His voice still low, Akabe said, “My lord, this is my wife and queen, the Lady Caitria.”

A solemn young woman, who’d been sitting on a low cushioned bench near the throne, stood and held out an elegant hand to Kien.

With long-lashed eyes, light brown hair, and a cautious welcoming smile, this lovely queen was surely too young, too vulnerable, to be an entrenched Atean. At most, Caitria was Ela’s age. Nothing like the hard-eyed, conniving schemer Kien had feared.