Shadowforged (Light & Shadow) (16 page)

“Get him back,” the Duke said bluntly. “For I am not sure you recall the deal we made. But I do. I remember you telling me that if you rose, I would rise as well. But if you are no use to me, then I will be no friend to you. Go.”

We fled, back to her tent, and Miriel leaned against one of the posts, her hand clutched to her side as if he had knifed her. She was blinking back tears.

“Are you alright?” I asked her, knowing she was not. “I’m sorry I told you to ask him.” I felt the fool, but she shook her head.

“You did right. I would have done the same.” She pressed her face into her hands. “What are allies for, if not to help each other?” she demanded. She dropped her hands and stared at me. “He should have helped me. I won’t forget this.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We,” she said wearily. “What are
we
going to do.”

“I protect you,” I said. “I always know what I’m going to do.”

She nodded, looking exhausted. “It’s always me. I have to come up with a plan. Always me.”

“I would help if I could,” I said, stung. “But you know I’m no good at this. All I know is you have to stay the best at things, at everything.
Remind
him you’re the best.” She nodded, unmoved by my anger. “And you should refuse to see him,” I said suddenly. It had been her own idea, only an hour past, but her brow furrowed.

“What—if he deigns to summon me?”

“He will,” I predicted. “He’s too honest not to.” She looked doubtful.

“What do I tell him?”

“That he was right. That meeting him is too risky. That he must give you up, and you do not bear him any ill will, but you cannot bear to see him.”

“That might work,” she said, struck.
She paused, and I wondered if she was remembering, as I did, her first meeting with Garad, where she had told him that their love was impossible, and so dared him onwards.

“You have to find some way to stay out of his reach,” I said, echoing Temar’s words.

“Yes. And so we start again. I have to make myself irresistible. Again. Don’t I? Yes.” She sighed. “And find some way to make Linnea less attractive to him.”

“They’ll push another one up in her place.”

“I only need to hold him long enough for him to make me Queen,” she said grimly. “If I can do that, then I am safe.”

Our journey back was quiet. There were no entertainments, only the long days on the road. There were no rumors, either—the King kept his dinners secret, and those who watched Miriel knew that she was not sneaking to his tent at night. He still sent her eloquent letters, and Miriel and I composed letters back, beginning her artful withdrawal from him.

We had no way to know if he had even noticed, but far from being defeated, Miriel seemed as sunny and confident as ever. It was part of her charm, I thought: when there was a plan, Miriel believed in it wholly, without reserve. She picked her path, and set her heart to it. She never again spoke to me of her fear; we looked only forward, the two of us, and we spoke only of our goals. As we entered the city, Miriel sighed in relief.

“Now the game begins again,” she told me as we rode. “No more waiting. I will win him back.” I did not respond. I looked up at Penekket Fortress as its shadow fell across us, and I shivered.

Chapter 16

Miriel was given an opportunity to retreat almost at once. When we returned to court, it became known—with the speed that only rumor can summon—that a man had arrived who claimed to be the envoy from Mavlon. He had come to honor the relationship between the two countries, he explained, just as the King had honored and recognized Mavlon by sending his own envoy. He had asked, very courteously, to take up residence in the building that housed the other envoys and, in the absence of any senior nobles or the King himself, the steward had looked over the documents bearing the seal of Mavlon and had acquiesced.

It was uproar. Mavlon’s King Jorge had ceded the throne of his own free will centuries ago, claiming that his countrymen must choose their own leaders and determine their own destiny. Though some had tried, the monarchy had never been reclaimed, and Heddred had ceased to recognize the country as a power in its own right. Garad’s choice to send a spy masquerading as an envoy had set off a firestorm. The very Councilors who had approved his quick thinking were now disclaiming their own role in the matter.

Troubled and alone, he sent a message for Miriel to meet him in the cellars, and she sent back a regretful note saying simply that such would not be fitting. It seemed that scarcely had we sent the plain-liveried pageboy away that he was back, panting, with another note: the King must see her, he had need of her advice. Miriel wrote back that she dared not meet with him, and gave the pageboy a silver coin and a dazzling smile for his troubles.

Wilhelm arrived next, looking disgruntled. He had clearly been summoned from his own lessons in combat, for he was wearing loose clothing with the dust of the courtyards, and he stank of sweat. He was embarrassed to be seen in such a state, and not best pleased with Miriel for being the cause of it all.

“My Lady, the King bids me ask you why it is that you will not agree to meet with him.” Clearly, Wilhelm himself was confused. He had done as Miriel had bid, and turned the King’s mind back to her, only to find that she now refused to meet with him. Miriel bid him come further into the room and smiled her mischievous smile.

“The King is wondering why I will not see him, is he not?”

“He is, my Lady.”

“I have him mad to see me now, do I not?”

“Yes, my Lady.” Miriel’s smile broadened, and Wilhelm could not help but smile back as he followed her logic. He bowed. “Ah. An excellent ploy. Shall we all meet at midnight, then?”

“No,” Miriel said sweetly.

“But now that he—“

“My Lord Wilhelm, I will not meet with his Grace tonight. You will explain to him that, although my heart breaks, I accept the wisdom that he and I must part.”

“He only meant to pretend—“ Wilhelm started, but Miriel held up a hand to cut him off.

“Regardless, that is what you will tell him. And tell him…” Miriel paused, trying to choose her words. Half of her allure—more—lay in the quick change of her tone and the flutter of her lashes. The words she spoke had never been even the greatest part of how she spoke to the King. What words could she now trust Wilhelm to deliver?

“Say that you pressed me to come to him now, and I begged you to leave before my will crumbled. Tell him that I miss him so much, my heart breaks with it, but I will do what is best for Heddred.” She looked straight at Wilhelm, and he looked back: uncomfortable, out of his depth. He was an honest man, was Wilhelm Conradine, an honorable man. He lied to his friend only because they were of two minds about the rebellion. To speak openly would be to lose one of his few allies, and yet he was uncomfortable even with his lie of self-preservation.

“Anything else?” he asked. Miriel smiled warmly.

“Tell him that I know he will choose the wisest course for Heddred, because I know how he yearns for peace.”

“Yes, my Lady.” Wilhelm left, with a wondering sort of look over his shoulder, as if he were not quite sure what had just happened.

I had my suspicions of where this would lead, and that night I made sure that Miriel chose the finest of her nightgowns, and that her robe was laid out where she might snatch it up in a moment. I took it upon myself to order a bath for her, and saw to it that Anna brushed Miriel’s dark curls until they shone. Miriel accepted this without comment; she had the dead calm of a woman who has gambled everything and knows that her plans are hanging in the balance.

We went to bed together, and I lay in the dark for a long while, jumping at every little sound. I must have drifted to sleep, for I awoke with a start in the dark of deep night. The room was quiet and dark, the only light filtered in through the shades, from the oil lamps that hung out on the streets.

I lay very still, trembling. I was terrified that I had awoken to something far worse than an illicit tryst. What was the sound that had brought me from sleep? What if my instincts this evening had warned me of the wrong thing, and now there was an assassin in the outer chamber? My heart was pounding so loudly that I feared I would give myself away. Moving carefully so as not to make the bed creep, I stretched out my left arm for the daggers that lay with my clothing on my shelf—

The noise was faint, filtered through the bedchamber door and the door of the privy chamber, and yet I still jumped, every muscle tensing. It was the very lightest knock on the door of the outer chamber. I waited a moment, for the sound of someone moving into place in the other room—I was still not sure that this was not some sort of trap—but when nothing came, I got up as quickly as I could, snatching my clothes and my daggers and padding to the door.

A rustle, and I saw Miriel sit up. So she had been lying awake as well, waiting with me. She slid out of bed and tiptoed after me as I crossed to the door, eased it open, and went into the privy chamber.

“Wait here,” I breathed in her ear, and she nodded, moving so that she would be hidden by the door when it opened. I nodded to her, and scanned the room one last time for unusual shadows, the gleam of eyes or hair. Nothing. Satisfied, I lifted the latch on the second door and slipped into the outer room. The knock sounded again, hesitant.

I pitched my voice low, so as not to wake Anna. “Who’s there?”

“Catwin?” It was the King’s voice. “It is I. Garad.” I slid back the deadbolt and opened the door a crack, trusting nothing. It was indeed his familiar face. I opened the door wider and stuck my head out, peering the other way down the corridor; seeing that the hall was empty, I ushered him quickly into the room, and bowed in the darkness.

“Your Grace.”

“May I speak to your Lady?” he asked, as I closed the door behind him and slid the deadbolt back into place.

I did not like the tension in his voice, but there was no refusing him this. “Wait here a moment,” I said. “I’ll wake her. Your Grace.” It seemed so fantastical an idea that I should be speaking to the King that I stumbled on his title. He nodded. He looked uncomfortable, he looked pained. But his jaw was set, he was resolute. I did not like where this was leading. I only hoped, grimly, that Miriel had a plan. Then I heard the faint rustle of her gown.

“Your Grace?” She stood framed in the doorway, her hands holding her robe closed at her throat. She had appeared as suddenly as a ghost. I made a hasty bid to get out from between them, and very nearly upset an ornamental chair in the process. Neither of them seemed to hear the scrape of the wood, the thud, or my muffled curse. As I stood in the dark, clutching my toe, they stared only at each other.

In a moment, they were in each other’s arms; Miriel did not even hesitate. I watched, blushing, my toe forgotten, as his mouth came down on hers, and I saw her come up on tiptoe to meet him.

“I should not—“ he murmured between kisses, and I understood that my fears had been well founded. He had come here to tell her that if she would be neither advisor nor mistress to him, then he would be rid of her. And then, seeing her, he could not resist her. It was as she had said it would be, and I saw that she had not been choosing the words of her message to avoid his anger, but to stoke it. It was a dangerous game she was playing—all the more dangerous as his hands crept to her waist.

Miriel was no less cognizant of the danger than I. She broke the kiss and flung her arms around his neck, laughing and crying as if she were overwhelmed with joy. A wife meeting a returning soldier could not have seemed more overjoyed.

“Oh, my love—I thought I would never see you again and I—“

“I cannot marry you!” he broke in. He pushed her away and repeated his words, and I knew that he was reminding himself as well as her. “I cannot marry you, my Lady.” For a moment, Miriel looked as if she had been slapped. Then she flared up. I could see tears on her long lashes.

“So you come here to me—“ she broke off, speechless. “I obeyed your wishes,” she said to him. “I kept from you. I accepted it. But now you come here to give me more hope than I have ever known in my life—and then snatch it away from me again in an instant?” Her voice was rising, incredulous, angry.

“I didn’t come her
e to kiss you!” he shouted back. I cast a fearful look towards the bedroom and hoped that Anna would know enough to stay there.

“Then why
did
you kiss me?” Her hands were clenched.

“I saw you—and—“ He moved to take her back in his arms, and she did not resist. She was like a little doll, she did not move as his arms came around her. Then, abruptly, she leaned her head on his chest and burst into tears. I heard her words choked out between sobs.

“I swore I would give you up. I accepted that I must step back. I knew I would be shamed. I knew that I would marry without love, and that I would face the pain of seeing you every day with another woman at your side. I had dreamed that—“

“Dreamed what?” he asked when she broke off on a sob. His anger was turning into confusion, dissolving with her tears. He did not know what to do.

“That I could heal Heddred with my wisdom. It is so bitter to know that the best I can do for the kingdom is step aside for another to advise you.” I heard the question clear in her voice. It was a challenge: can Linnea advise you as I can? He heard it, and he answered it.

“I cannot do this,” he said brokenly. “I cannot face ruling without you by my side.” He moved to pull her closer, but she stepped back, leaving him in the cold darkness of the room, alone.

“And I cannot be at your side,” she said. “We both know it.” He held out his arms to her, pleading, but she sank down into a beautiful curtsy, her eyes on the floor.

“I must have you with me,” he said desperately. He had acquiesced, and now he was bereft.

“Your Grace, you cannot. Such would undermine you. It would seem dishonorable. I want to be at your side,” her voice trembled, “every moment. But what has been done, is done now. Your Grace has chosen—wisely.” To his credit, he tried to reconcile himself to it.

“I would give you up for nothing less than a kingdom,” he said, and she nodded.

“I know that. I regret my harsh words. Say you can forgive me, my love?”

“Your love?” he asked, as if he could not believe his ears.

“Always,” she whispered.

“They tell me that we will forget each other,” he said, unsteadily, and she shook her head.

“Then they do not know us, do they? They have never known a love like ours.” She did not wait for his assent. She smiled, her lips trembling. “I know that I will never forget you. I will think of you every day. I will pray for your Golden Age, even when I am far away from your Court.”

“You are to go away?” His voice betrayed his anguish.

“I must,” she said steadily. “There is only one woman you should ask for advice. There is only one woman you should come to in the night. And that is your wife, my love. And your wife is chosen now. I cannot keep from you, nor you from me. You must be here, and so I will go—so that you may be here, with your wife.”

“Then be my wife.” He spoke wildly, and Miriel started forward to him, then retreated, holding her hand out to stop him.

“No, please, I beg you—torment me with no false hopes. The marriage agreement is signed, you cannot go back on it. “

“It has not been signed yet,” he said quickly, and I saw how cleverly she had drawn the information from him. Now, she lured him on.

“My love—Garad—you cannot do this—“

“Tomorrow, I will tell them that it cannot be done,” he swore. “My love—my Lady—tell me that I can call upon your uncle to discuss marriage negotiations. Could I?” Her laughter rang from the rafters and his eyes widened.

“Surely you cannot mean that,” she said incredulously.

“I do, I swear I do. Would he allow it?” She laughed again.

“Oh, my love, what could make him happier than being able to wed me to the man I love with all my heart?” Only I could have heard the twist of grief in her voice. Her uncle had not cared, for a single moment of her life, what would make her happy. But her smile was steady, and the King’s face warmed. I saw the fact, then, that Miriel never forgot for a moment: above all, a King wished to be loved as a man. She had convinced him both that she shared his vision for the kingdom, and yet loved him only for himself, and now he knelt before her.

“I came to you tonight to tell you that I could see you no longer,” he said seriously. “But my heart tells me that I cannot bear to do so. For the good of your King, Lady Miriel, for the good of Heddred—which will blossom under your wise leadership—will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and Queen? You may say yes or no without fear.”