Royal Exile (11 page)

‘Your soulmate’s blood is on your hands, Brennus, not mine. If you had not insulted me he would not have had to die in the manner you describe. Your lack of courage killed him.’ He was amused to watch the king’s face redden with rage. It was obvious Brennus did not lack for courage but it was fun to bait him all the same.

‘You’re too good for beheading, barbarian. The Set will yield someone who will find a way to give you a death that you justly deserve.’

‘So you keep threatening, Brennus. I will not be quaking in my boots and looking over my shoulder, that’s a promise.’

‘At your own peril, then, barbarian.’

Loethar laughed. ‘You know what I’ve come for, Brennus.’

‘A wasted journey. I don’t possess what I assume you are referring to.’

‘The Enchantment is what I chase. With it I shall control the Set without so much as a squeak of trouble from its people. After I’ve finished with them they will be none the wiser that they ever had separate realms or royals. I will be their ruler, judge, jury and executioner.’

‘You are delusional, barbarian. I have nothing of what you seek and if I did I would die before I allowed you to use it. Surely if I had any power I would have used it against you already.’

‘Perhaps I am unreceptive?’ Loethar suggested.

Brennus smirked.

‘Well, at least you concur that such a power exists.’

‘If it does I have no knowledge of it. You are chasing an unreachable dream. None of the people of the Set will ever give you loyalty. They will bow to your supremacy, right now, I’m sure of it, but they will hatch plans around you. You are already a dead man. It is simply a matter of time.’

The king’s threat smacked of truth. Loethar’s eyes narrowed. ‘Bring me the queen.’ He watched all the bravado that had fuelled the king’s fighting speech instantly dissipate from Brennus’s eyes; although the king said nothing, his expression betrayed him as he warily looked to the doorway of the salon where he had been brought.

Loethar continued conversationally. ‘This is a magnificent chamber, Brennus. I applaud your realm’s artistic skills.’ The king ignored him, his eyes searching the doorway. ‘I thought Barronel had enviable style but I’d hazard Penraven has everything a barbarian tyrant could possibly want. I’m going to enjoy making this my seat of power.’

He watched Brennus fight to find anything to say and then lose the battle, his shoulders slumping as Iselda was escorted in, her hand tightly holding that of Piven, who was skipping at her side, heedless of the tense atmosphere.

‘Iselda,’ Loethar said, deliberately dropping all formality. ‘The descriptions of your beauty do not do you credit.’

The queen had eyes only for Brennus. She said nothing to Loethar. Vyk’s interest had turned to Piven; the bird swooped down to the boy’s head, hopping onto his outstretched arm. The boy seemed mesmerised by the great bird.

‘And this I imagine is the freak adopted son,’ Loethar continued.

Iselda’s jaw tightened. ‘Call your filthy vermin off!’ she said, flapping at Vyk, who swooped away, landing not far from the child. ‘This is Piven. He is a simpleton, yes. He is also harmless and deserves none of your attention.’

As if on cue, Piven broke from her grip and ran toward Loethar, leaping onto the man’s legs. Loethar, taken by surprise, was astonished that he managed to catch the child. He laughed as he lifted him into his arms. ‘Now you see, Brennus, if only all your people were cretinous like your son here, we could all be friends.’ He put Piven down but the boy continued holding his hand, smiling angelically. ‘I’m going to enjoy killing you in front of him.’

Loethar believed it was likely the presence of the innocent child that finally broke the king’s spirit. Without warning Brennus lunged toward one of the barbarian’s guards and grabbed a dagger. Plunging it into his own neck, he ripped it angrily across his throat, a guttural noise directed at his queen accompanying his final act.

Loethar was upon him in a moment, ignoring the queen’s shrieks. Piven, too, moved to the king’s side, dipping his fingers into his father’s blood as it spurted impressively from the king’s neck. The boy grinned vacantly toward his mother and back again at Loethar. Loethar stared down upon the dying king, angry that he had not suspected Brennus was capable of this.

‘Your days are already numbered,’ the king groaned defiantly, his eyes closing as death claimed him.

Loethar roared his anger and ripped his sword from its scabbard. With a howl of fresh ferocity he brought the blade down to sever the king’s head from his neck. The queen swooned but she clung nevertheless to one of her enemy minders, clearly determined to remain upright and strong in the face of such barbarity. She did, however, close her eyes as Loethar reached for Brennus’s head.

Holding it by the king’s wavy, ever so slightly silvered hair, he handed the head to Piven, who couldn’t hold it but dragged it over to his mother with a curious look of wonder on his face. Her husband’s royal blood streaked the bottom of Iselda’s pale gown as Piven tried proudly but failed to lift the head.

Loethar turned to Stracker and murmured, ‘You know what to do.’

Stracker nodded and left the chamber.

Loethar returned his attention to the struggling queen. She was pale and trembling, and seemingly too shocked to weep, but she impressed him all the same with her dignity.

‘You’ll have a chance to farewell your husband properly, your highness,’ Loethar said. ‘I will see you in a few hours. Take the time to compose yourself, change your gown, perhaps.’

He watched her take a long slow breath, her eyes still closed. He had imagined she would scream hysterically when he killed her husband before her. But it appeared the queen had gathered all her pain inside while forcing her courage to the fore. He admired that. She was certainly far more beautiful than he’d imagined. Valya would be even more jealous than she already was of the Valisar Queen.

‘Take the queen to her apartments,’ he ordered, ‘until I call for her.’ He watched as her husband’s headless corpse was unceremoniously dragged away by its feet, no doubt on Stracker’s instructions.

‘Come, Piven,’ she said softly, finally opening her eyes, looking only at her child, ignoring the object to which he clung.

‘I’ll be needing that head, majesty,’ Loethar said.

‘Leave that down now, Piven,’ she said to her boy, her voice as gentle as a soft summertide breeze. Her kindness reminded Loethar briefly of how he’d often wished his own mother had treated him. For a moment he felt envious of the halfwit.

‘Leave the boy, too, your highness.’ He raised his hand as she swung around, startled. ‘I will not harm him. He’ll be a nice playmate for my raven. They seem to suit one another, don’t you think?’

‘What do you want with him?’ she demanded, glancing down at Piven, who was still clinging to his father’s hair. Loethar noticed she had to stop herself from retching as she finally looked upon her husband’s remains. He could almost feel sorry for her.

‘I like him. He shall be my new pet, alongside Vyk.’

‘Pet?’ she echoed, aghast, her face a mask of despair. ‘Sooner you kill him, barbarian. He has no concept of his life, in truth. Perhaps he is best dead.’

‘Fancy a mother saying that,’ Loethar replied, derision in his voice. ‘Tsk … tsk. Even stepmothers should offer some love.’

‘He bears the Valisar name. For that you should accord him just a little respect, even if you will not show that same respect to his father or his mother.’

‘I shall send for you soon, your majesty. I thought that by keeping your son with me it might prompt you to stay obedient. But now that I know you have a heart of stone — that you would wish your own child dead — I can tell you would likely follow your husband’s theatrical lead and kill yourself. That would be most disappointing for me. Guards! The lad remains here, chained like the little beast he is now for me. Escort the queen to her rooms. She is to be treated with care and kept under watch at all times. She is not to be left alone — no matter how she begs — for so much as a heartbeat. Take her. Piven?’

The youngster turned and Loethar, pleased that he at least recognised his name, was amused beyond belief when the boy ran to him open-armed.

‘Leo, steady!’ Gavriel hissed, reaching awkwardly for the prince.

‘My father,’ Leo whispered, his distraught young face ghostly in the dim light of the one low candle they permitted themselves.

Gavriel squeezed the boy’s shoulder. ‘You should never have seen that.’

‘Now we have both had to watch our fathers die,’ Leo said, his whisper unable to hide his grief.

There was nothing Gavriel could say to ease the pain. He was still trying to deal with the recurring image of his own father’s brutal slaying. He wanted to say that at least King Brennus had taken his life on his own terms but was afraid his words would sound callous.’ What about Piven?’ Leo groaned.

Gavriel peeped through the holes bored into the stone. ‘He looks happy.’

‘He always looks like that.’

‘True, but he’s safe for now. I think if Loether was going to kill your mother or brother it would already be done.’ He saw Leo nod, felt a tiny measure of relief. ‘Let’s think about our own situation,’ he said, hoping to distract his charge.

‘What do you think of my hiding spot?’ Leo asked, following Gavriel’s lead.

Gavriel was sure they’d be whispering like this for days to come. ‘Inspired. Who knows about this?’

‘Only my father.’

‘So now only you?’

‘It’s a secret known only to the king and heir, passing down through generations that way.’

‘So that’s why Freath was given such a cryptic message.’

Leo nodded. ‘father showed it to me when the troubles in the Set began several moons ago. He called it the ingress. It was built into the castle walls by King Cormoron centuries ago.’

Gavriel looked around at the narrow corridor in which they found themselves. Leo had had the forethought to grab a lantern as they ran into it via an exquisitely disguised entrance that even someone lifting the tapestry would likely not notice, and had used its flame to light a few tiny candles, that threw a ghostly glow but one still low enough not to attract attention through the peepholes they were now using to spy through. There was not sufficient room for the two of them to stand side by side and Gavriel thanked his stars he didn’t suffer Corbel’s dislike of enclosed spaces. He touched the cool stone. This hidden walkway had been deliberately designed and built for spying he now realised, exactly as they were, into the king’s main salon where presently Loethar presided.

‘Cormoran was obviously a man who trusted no one.’

‘Father used to play in these tiny spaces when he was a boy. His father told him about it when he was much younger than I am. I wish I’d known about it longer. I could have listened to so many conversations.’

‘Perhaps that’s why he didn’t mention it earlier,’ Gavriel whispered, his gaze never leaving Loethar. The barbarian sat quietly in a high-backed chair, watching Piven paint pictures on the floorboards with his father’s blood. ‘Is it limited to just behind this chamber?’

A cunning smile broke across the prince’s mouth. ‘No. There are several access points and all the main public chambers have these hidden chambers in the walls. So do some of the more private ones — my father’s salon, my mother’s apartments…’ Gavriel immediately decided Cormoron hadn’t trusted his queen. ‘… kitchen. I haven’t seen them all. But they’re all this tiny and uncomfortable.’

Gavriel’s attention returned to what Leo was saying. ‘No complaints,’ he admonished in a tight whisper. ‘It has saved not only your life but the Valisar line. There’s enough room to lie down, so we can sleep. If we keep the candles low and small, and only lit during daylight hours, we should go unnoticed indefinitely.’

‘What about food?’

‘I’ll have to think about that.’

‘I know how to get into and out of the kitchens. I’ve stolen birdcakes when Cook’s back was turned but this is obviously more risky.’

‘We’ll work something out,’ Gavin replied noncommittally.

‘Gavriel,’ the prince said solemnly. ‘I will never lose that image of father killing himself.’

‘I know, Leo. Look —’

‘No, wait. What I was about to say is that I’m deliberately going to carry that memory. Although few people take me seriously yet, I am a Valisar. That has been drummed into me since I was old enough to pay attention. Whatever I have to do to stay alive and make the barbarian pay for his cowardly deeds, I will do. So I’ll find us food and I’ll get us out when the time is right. We’ll have to learn the movements of their guards first.’

Gavriel wanted to cheer for the prince but his throat tightened with emotion at Leo’s stirring words and he just nodded, before saying, ‘We have to take off anything that could make noise, Leo. We’ll have to move around these narrow spaces in silence. If you’re going to sneeze or cough, you’ll have to smother it. We’ll need to tiptoe and whisper at all times.’

‘Lucky we had on our travel coats,’ Leo added.

And that reminded them both of being on the battlements and what had happened since.

Gavriel deliberately distracted the boy’s thoughts again, as well as his own. ‘We’ll have to pick a place to leave our waste. It’s not going to smell very nice soon but —’

Leo shook his head. ‘My great-grandfather thought of that,’ he whispered. ‘He and his son built an opening to piss down. It links up with a drophole.’

‘Ingenious,’ Gavriel muttered.

‘I’ll take you later to a spot where we can even sit down to take a shi —’

‘Surely not?’ Gavriel said, genuinely impressed.

Leo actually grinned. ‘It’s true, I tell you. The kings before us have thought of everything.’

‘They obviously enjoyed spying on people.’ Gavriel’s attention was grabbed by movement at the side of the room. The man called Stracker was back and the raven, which had been sitting quietly, was suddenly alert on its perch on one of the high-backed chairs. Gavriel nodded at Leo, and put a finger to his lips.

‘Back already?’ Loethar asked.

‘The cook is planning a feast for you tonight … if he can stop himself from gagging. He’s taken the king’s death hard.’ Stracker laughed.