The Bloodbound (25 page)

Sunlight slanted down through arched windows of coloured glass. Nine windows lined the west wall and nine the east, each one bearing the symbol of a Virtue. Olan's shield cast an orb of silver-grey over the gallery rail, and Ardin's flame bathed the benches in orange and yellow and red. Garvin's tears were picked out in cut crystal, scattering tiny rainbows across the polished stone floor. Alix passed beneath each of them slowly, craning her neck to see. She started to say a prayer beneath Eldora's all-seeing eye, but changed her mind and appealed to Hew's crow instead, for it seemed to her that Erik would need wit more than wisdom.

Albern Highmount was the first of the lords to arrive. He'd changed into a conservative doublet of brown velvet trimmed with gold, and his high leather boots were so shiny that the firelight seemed to lick at his toes. He paid Alix little heed, treating her to a curt nod before surveying the room as though expecting to read the future in the elaborate loops and whorls of the gallery rail. Erik himself appeared soon after, his steward in tow. “Did you find him?” the king was asking.

“Yes, Your Majesty. We had just enough time to polish his armour while he washed. He awaits your summons.”

“No, that won't do. I'm not summoning him. Take me to him.”

This time, the steward could not conceal his surprise. Erik was king; it was for men to come to him, not the other way around. “As you say, Your Majesty,” Arnot replied bemusedly.

A second surprise was in store when Alix started to follow. Erik drew up short, looking uncertain. “Captain . . .”

He can't be serious. Not now.
“Your Majesty,” she said, “this is not a good time for you to move about unprotected.”

He hesitated a moment longer, then sighed. “Yes, very well. Come along.”

Arnot led them into an anteroom, where the biggest surprise of all was waiting.

“Hello, Liam.”

“Your Majesty.” Liam was clean-shaven, hair washed and combed, armour burnished to a high shine. All this must have been accomplished quickly—and, judging from his expression, somewhat traumatically.

“I expect Tom any minute now,” Erik said. “What is your decision?”

Liam shifted uncomfortably. “You think now would be a good time to . . . ?”

“It's now or never. I'm sorry to press you, but we cannot defer any longer.”

Alix burned with curiosity, but Erik obviously wanted this conversation to be private, so she withdrew to a discreet remove and pretended to admire a tapestry on the wall. Even so, she couldn't help overhearing.

“What would I have to do?” Liam asked.

“You have only to be there. Speak if you wish, hold your tongue if you don't. I ask only that you support me.”

A pause. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

“All right, then.” Liam sounded reluctant.

Erik called Alix over. “From now on, Liam will require his own retinue of guards.” Seeing her confusion, he added, “I don't believe Tom will try anything drastic, but if he does, he may not stop at one brother.”

One brother?
Alix's eyes widened as she realised what he intended.
He's going to acknowledge Liam. Now, of all times.
With his position already under threat, he was going to introduce another possible heir into the mix.
Oh, Erik, have you thought this through?
But she could see from his expression that he'd made up his mind, so she held her peace.

As for Liam, he looked miserable, but determined. “We're going public, Allie,” he said quietly.

Erik glanced sharply at his brother. His eyes registered something fleeting, but it was gone before Alix could make it out. “Tom knows about you, of course, but I never discussed my plans to bring you into the family, so this will come as a surprise. Speaking of which, we had best head back and inform the others. It wouldn't do to have them caught unawares in front of Tom.”

They returned to the oratorium to find the banner lords and a few chosen knights fully assembled. The lords were dressed in their finest silks and velvets, while the knights, including Arran Green, had their armour gleaming. Most registered little interest in the newcomer, but few things escaped the notice of Albern Highmount. His eyes narrowed. “I see an important decision has been reached,” the first counsel said coolly.

“A long time ago,” Erik returned even more coolly. “All that remained was to carry it out.”

The other lords were curious now, and they scrutinised the mysterious Kingsword more carefully. All except Arran Green, who regarded Erik with a puzzled expression, no doubt wondering what the king was about.

Erik wasted no time. “My lords, may I present my brother, His Royal Highness Prince Liam White.”

Liam said, “Hi.”

Erik's smile was laced with triumph. But it was Liam's smile—embarrassed, apprehensive, but unmistakably hopeful—that brought a sting of tears to Alix's eyes.

The room was momentarily struck dumb. Even Highmount said nothing; he just shook his head. It was enough. With eyes as cold as hailstones and hair the colour of a thundercloud, Highmount could storm without a sound. He had too much sense to vent his displeasure aloud, however, and when he turned his gaze on Liam, he was the very picture of courtesy. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing, “it is good to meet you at last.”

The other lords were quick to join in. Poor Liam would have been smothered in courtly syrup had not Arnot's thin voice cut through the well-wishes like a hot knife through treacle.

“His Highness Prince Tomald approaches.”

B
oot heels rang out from the corridor, a chill counterpoint to the deathly hush that had fallen over the oratorium. Erik tensed, and his lords and knights tightened around him. Out of habit, Liam started to fall in behind Arran Green, until Alix met his eye and cocked her head in Erik's direction. Grimacing, Liam stepped to his new brother's side.

This would be the ultimate test of Erik's self-control. Alix could feel the rage rolling off him like heat from a bed of coals, but his posture appeared relaxed, his expression revealing nothing. Alix hoped he could draw strength from the banner lords and Highmount, all of whom looked masterfully blank. Even Rig had spent enough time at court to learn the value of a wooden mask.

Tomald White swept into the room without preamble, trailed by a clutch of knights, a few lesser lords and ladies, and a tall man with an ash-coloured cape who could only be Roswald Grey. The Raven's stride was as purposeful as ever, but nothing else about him was the way Alix remembered. Maybe it was the white velvet doublet in place of a breastplate, or the smooth cheeks in place of a neatly trimmed beard. Maybe she had just reimagined him as a monster, something cold and ugly and larger than life. Whatever the reason, the first thing that occurred to her as the Raven walked through the door was how very much he looked like Erik.

Tom's raven-black hair set him apart, and he was smaller and lither than his brother, but he had the same piercing blue eyes and proud features. He moved with a grace matched only by its authority, more panther than raven, and his gaze glittered with a fierce intelligence. Alix watched him with something close to awe.
He's beautiful. How could I have forgotten?

But she hadn't forgotten how dangerous he was, and as he came closer, she stepped between him and Erik, her hand going to the hilt of her sword. Those piercing blue eyes met hers, but only for a moment; the Raven glanced at her and dismissed her in the same breath. The banner lords got much the same treatment, but there was one face among the group that he couldn't dismiss so easily. Tom's gaze lingered on Liam for just a fraction too long before returning to the king. “Erik.”

“Tom.”

“Welcome back.”

Welcome
back
, not welcome
home
. Alix wondered if the choice of words was deliberate. Knowing the Raven, it was. And knowing Erik, he'd noticed.

A brief silence descended. The brothers eyed each other as though they were the only two people in the room. “I've taken up residence at the Grey estate,” Tom said at length, inclining his head at the tall young man in the ash-coloured cape. “I thought it best to give you some time in the palace.”
Before I take it from you.
The unspoken words hung in the air, heavy, malignant.

“That's good of you,” Erik said, “though you really shouldn't feel underfoot. We are enough of a crowd that I'm sure one more would make little difference.”

The Raven had no trouble grasping the subtext. He smiled. “Yes, you are an impressive lot, to be sure. The Greens, the Browns, the Blacks . . . And I see you have even mustered the bastard.”

Erik went rigid. “You
will
mind your tongue, Tom. He is our brother, and a prince of the realm.”

“Is he now?” The Raven looked amused. “Let me guess—you plan to name him your heir. Do you really think that will change anything, or is this just another sop to your precious honour?”

“Some of us take honour very seriously.”

“At least you're taking
something
seriously. If only it were the well-being of your kingdom.”

Erik drew a long breath, and when he spoke again, the edge was gone from his voice. “You never knew me very well, Tom, and I fear you know me even less now. Much has changed since we took the field together at Boswyck.”

That piqued the Raven's interest. His eyes narrowed.
Good recovery,
Alix thought. He'd begun spinning the tale. If he spun it well, Tom would see him as a changed man, a stronger, wiser king who had found his path to redemption—thanks to his little brother.

“I have no wish to stand here squabbling before the high lords of the realm,” Erik continued. “The matter before us is too grave, and I'm too weary. Give me two days to settle in from my journey, and then let us meet again to discuss the future.”

“The future is upon us, Erik. Discussing it does no good.” Tom sounded almost regretful.

“I have never known you to ride into battle without learning all you could about your enemy and the field you will meet him on. You know far less of either than you think. In two days, you will know more. Two days is not so much to ask, Tom. Let us meet in parley, and I swear that no weapon shall be raised against you.”

The Raven's blue eyes studied his brother's. Alix would have given all the gold in the Black River to hear his thoughts, but they were hidden behind a shield of ice. “I have no more desire to see bloodshed than you do. You have your two days, Erik, but do not deceive yourself with false hopes.”

Erik gave a thin smile, as though swallowing a caustic reply. “Until then.”

Tom and his retinue withdrew, their footfalls tolling a cold, haughty exit. When the sound had receded, Erik turned to Alix. “What do you think? That went as well as could be expected, I suppose.”

She had never seen him look so uncertain.
And it's my reassurance he craves. It's as though we're married already.
The thought thrilled her and scared her in equal measure. “You did wonderfully,” she said with an encouraging smile. He smiled back, and for a moment Alix forgot they had an audience. Then she felt Liam's eyes on her, and she dropped her gaze.

“Now, if you will all forgive me—” Erik began.

“Your Majesty!” A page rushed toward the king. Thankfully, he had the good sense to stop far enough away to avoid a glimpse of Alix's blade.

“What is it?” Erik sounded incalculably weary.

“Lady Sirin approaches, sire.”

*   *   *

Erik suppressed a
groan. Sirin Grey was the last person in the world he wanted to see. The lords and knights beat a hasty retreat, all except Liam, who hovered awkwardly. “Might I have a word, Your Majesty?” His eyes were cold and hard.

As though I haven't enough to deal with
, Erik thought, perhaps ungraciously. “We don't have much time. What's on your mind?” Liam hesitated, still unaccustomed to speaking his mind in front of his king. “I can see you're angry about something,” Erik prodded impatiently. “Out with it.”

“All right. Tell me the truth—was I just a prop in your little play back there?”

Erik stared, stunned. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“It seems awfully convenient. After ten years of ignoring my existence, you suddenly decide to acknowledge me at the precise moment you're confronting your brother over the crown.”

Erik's heart sank.
He thinks this has been politics all along.
In hindsight, perhaps the timing did look suspicious. Liam had no way of knowing how long Erik had been planning this; bereft of that context, it was easy to see how his actions might appear more self-serving than generous. Still, he had been clear that he wanted Liam's support for the parley. Why Liam should choose this precise moment to be angry about it, he could not guess. “I'm sorry you feel that way,” Erik said. “I wish I had time to discuss it, but I'm afraid I must ask you to excuse me, for I'm obliged to have an equally pleasant conversation with my betrothed.”

Sirin was approaching them, clad in a silk dress of ivory and silver that reminded Erik of a pearl-handled dagger. Liam glanced at her, and when he looked back, his gaze softened a little. “Good luck,” he said in an undertone before stepping aside.

“My king.” Sirin started to reach for him, but Alix swept between them, one hand raised in a warding gesture. Sirin paled in anger. “How dare you?”

“Stand down, Captain,” Erik said, putting a hand on Alix's shoulder. She turned, hazel eyes filled with worry, and for a moment he feared she would argue. But she relented and stepped aside.

“Come, my lady,” Erik said, unable to keep the weariness from his voice. “Let us speak in the Banner Room.” He gestured toward the western antechamber, and Sirin complied, crossing the hall in crisp strides, leaving Erik to follow. He could hear Alix trailing behind, but he knew she had understood him and would keep her distance.

Sirin paused in the centre of the antechamber, beneath her own banner, as though to remind Erik of who she was. The dangling silk panels fluttered gently overhead as he closed the door. As soon as it came to, Sirin spun to face him. “So you think me an assassin now?”

“If I did, I would hardly follow you into a room without my bodyguard.”

Sirin's lip curled. “Your bodyguard, is she? That is not how she is described at court.”

Erik did not even bother to point out her hypocrisy; he just folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “We have more important things to discuss than Alix Black, surely.”

The fierceness drained from Sirin's eyes. Suddenly, she looked as weary as he felt.
She's thinner
, he realised, taking in her jutting cheekbones, her narrow hips, the way her dress hung loosely on her frame. Her dark braids were untidy, like frayed ropes, and her silk gloves slouched around her wrists. Erik had never seen her looking anything but immaculate. He was more disturbed by the sight than he cared to admit.

She laced her fingers in her lap. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I did not mean to speak sharply. The last thing I wish to do is to aggravate you.”

“Why are you here, Sirin?”

“First, to tell you that whatever wrongs Tom has done you, I had no part in them.”

He considered her carefully. He knew Sirin well enough to know she could lie to him, and smoothly. But she was a proud creature, and there was defiance in her eyes, as though she were daring him to call her false. He decided he believed her—at least in part. “Are you telling me you know nothing of what he's done?”

“That's not what I said. I have heard the whispers, and I have seen the White Raven pamphlets for myself. I know some and suspect more. But Tom would not speak to me of any of it, not even . . .” She looked away, but not before Erik saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her cry. “He withdraws more every day,” she continued, a slight tremor in her voice. “Now he barely speaks to me at all. He says it's for my own good, but I think he . . . I think he's afraid that I . . .”

“That if you knew the truth, you would forsake him?” It came out more harshly than he had intended.

Sirin turned her back on him and hugged herself. “He believes he's doing the right thing. He's not power hungry. You know that. He—”

“He thinks I'm leading my kingdom to ruin.”

“He believes the Oridian threat is greater than you know.”

“What a coincidence—I think the same of him. Only I didn't try to
murder
him.”

The air seemed to go out of her at that. She sagged, her hand going to her stomach. “Oh gods . . . Erik . . .” He waited for her to continue, but in vain; it seemed she had no more words.

“Tell me, has he despised me all along?”

She sighed. “Is that what you think?”

“He does give that impression.”

“He doesn't despise you. He just can't see the world the way you do, no matter how much he might wish it. And he does wish it, Erik, so much . . . You can't know . . .”

“We see the world the way we choose. Tom chooses to be bitter.”

She shook her head miserably. “You have never understood him.”

“There we agree.” Erik lurched away from the wall and began to pace. “What would you have of me, Sirin? Tom has committed treason many times over. You say you know little of his crimes. Would you like me to list them for you?”

“No.” She shuddered. “Please don't.”

“I thought not.”

“His moods. You know how he suffers . . .”

“Should that excuse treason?”

“It's been so hard for him.”

“For all of us.”

“He is your
brother
, Erik. Your own blood.”

She had found her mark. He stiffened. “I'm not the one who forgot.” The words chafed his throat.

There was a stretch of silence. Then she asked, “What will you do?”

Good question.
None of the options were appealing. “I don't know, but whatever happens, I must put my kingdom first. I am king; that is my duty. You of all people should understand that.”

“He's your brother,” she said again, pleadingly.

Erik sighed. “Go now. I cannot give you what you want. I can't even be sure I'll still be alive in a few days' time.”

She turned. “Erik, you can't really think he would—”

“
Go.
If you would keep Tom safe, convince him that his plans are folly. If he will listen to anyone, it's you.”

She started to say something, then bit her lip and brushed past him.

“Sirin.”

She paused, her hand on the door.

“You have always known where your duty lies, and you have always been prepared to do it. Don't waver now.”

Her head drooped, but she did not turn around. She left the room in silence.