The Bloodsworn (25 page)

“What happened to any of them? I'm sure you're aware that as of two days ago, that army picked up and left Ennersvale.”

“We're aware.”

“Any idea where they've gone?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Asvin said.

Rig swore and scratched his beard.

“Sorry, General,” Wraith said. “Looks like you came a long way for nothing. We don't know what happened to your sister, and we don't know where Sadik took his army.”

Rig met the other man's gaze, held it like a too-firm clasping of arms. “I'm disappointed, I won't deny it. But I'm not quite through. There's one more thing I'd like to know.”

“And what's that?”

Rig leaned forward. “I'd like to know if you can give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap your fucking neck.”

For a single, quivering moment, all was still. Then Asvin went for his dagger, but Dain beat him to the draw, springing to his feet with blade in hand. They faced each other across the table, coiled like a pair of serpents ready to strike. Rig and Wraith stayed where they were, eyes locked in a deadly embrace. “Expecting that, were you?” Rig asked mildly.

“Putting myself in your place? Aye. But don't mistake that for tucking tail, General.”

“I don't give a pig's ass where your tail is at. You betrayed my sister.”

“I don't see it like that.”

“She came to you in need and you took advantage of her. Forced her to kill for you.”

Wraith's mouth twisted wryly. “Never figured you for a sentimental sort. Your sister is a soldier. Killing is part of the business. Besides, it was a fair trade. Her help for mine.”

“Help? From what I just heard, it sounds as if you were too busy hunting for the Warlord to be much help.” His gaze swivelled to Asvin. “The night of the rescue. How is it that you found yourself on the far side of the camp when my sister was trying to escape with Rodrik?”

Asvin's eyes dropped to his boots.

“That's what I thought. She could have been killed. For all I know, she
was
killed, along with Vel and Rodrik and everyone else who tried to help her.”

“I fulfilled my part of the bargain,” Wraith said. “Without me, it would have taken her twice as long to find Rodrik, if she found him at all. As for the rest, I did what I had to do. I won't apologise for it.”

Rig paused. Then he launched himself across the table, hands grasping the white-hair's throat as they both tumbled backward over Wraith's chair. Rig landed with his knee in the other man's gut, driving the air out of him. He slammed the back of Wraith's head against the floorboards, once, twice, before his left hand snapped out to seize the fist swinging for his temple. He gripped the fist and twisted sharply, feeling a satisfying
crack
that was drowned out by Wraith's howl of pain.

“Stop.”
Asvin's voice, cutting coolly through the distressed shrieking of the falcon. “I'll open his throat.” Rig didn't have to turn around to understand the lay of things.

He hovered over Wraith, their faces barely an inch apart, teeth bared at each other like a pair of wolves. “You're a disgrace,” he snarled.

Wraith swivelled his head and spat on the floor. When he turned back, his teeth were pink with blood. “I'm a commander general, same as you. Tough decisions come with the job. Ask me to choose between my people and yours and it's no choice at all. You'd do the same.”

“You have no idea what I'd do. The choice is nothing. The tough part is living with the consequences. And this right here? It's a consequence.” He slammed his fist into Wraith's nose, opening it like a spigot.

Rig lurched to his feet. “We're done here.” He fired a look over his shoulder at Asvin, who still had his blade against Dain's throat. “If you think this wasn't owed, you can go ahead and bloody your hands, but I think you know better. Either way, you spill so much as a drop, it'll be the last thing you ever do.”

Asvin lowered his knife. “When you put it that way.”

“Just be thankful my sister wasn't the one settling the accounts. I promise you she wouldn't have stopped at a couple of broken bones.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Asvin said, and strangely enough, he smiled. “Give her my regards, General.”

Rig strode through a tense knot of soldiers and Resistance fighters waiting in the yard. He offered no explanation for the noises they must have heard. He just said, “Kingswords,” and let his men fall in behind him. One of the Andithyrians started to say something about blindfolds, but a look from Rig silenced her.

He mounted up, pausing to shake out his right hand. Already, his knuckles were turning red; he'd be feeling that for days. Not that he minded one damned bit. He'd have done worse if he didn't need the son of a bitch to keep making trouble behind enemy lines. With the Onnani fleet delayed and the Harrami legions off the table, he needed all the help he could get. So much so, indeed, that he wondered fleetingly if he'd
made a mistake. If so, it was the most satisfying mistake he'd ever made.

“Where to, General?” Dain asked.

“North. We'll make camp near the river, then head back to the fort in the morning.”

“And after that?”

“After that, we wait. We might not know where the Warlord is, but we damned sure know where he's going.”

“Home,” Dain said grimly, kicking his horse into a gallop.

O
nce, when she'd been about fourteen, Alix had ridden through a fever village. She'd been on her way to Karringdon to spend the summer with her aunt, one of Rig's early and swiftly abandoned schemes to have his sister instructed in the art of being a lady. About half a day north of the river, they'd passed through a deserted husk of a town overgrown with weeds. Abandoned, her governess had explained, in the Year of the Great Fever, the fourteen-month nightmare that had claimed the lives of nearly half the population of the Blacklands. Alix recalled it vividly: the crumbling hovels dotting the field like tombstones, the naked bones of the temple with its gaping mouth of a doorway and dark, empty sockets for windows. Even more than the images, she remembered the
feeling
of the place. Eerie. Bitter. Mournful.

Erroman had that same feeling on the morning Alix, Ide, and Vel rode through her gates.

From the road, the city looked the same as always; if anything, it was a little busier than usual. The walls buzzed with more activity, and the guard at the portcullis had been doubled since Alix's departure a month before. But passing through the gates was like entering another world. Lower Town stood
empty, gutted of its inhabitants and left to rot like the discarded bones of a fish. Every window, every door was boarded up. The only movement was the occasional rustle of pigeons. So complete was the silence that the clatter of their horses' hooves actually made Alix wince.

Even the palace grounds felt subdued, though the customary bustle of servants moved about the yard. No one took any notice of the three riders. They dismounted on their own, and Ide had to go off in search of a groom to take their horses. But Alix had more pressing concerns, so with a hurried farewell, she left her companions and rushed up the steps of the keep.

She made straight for Erik's study, footfalls ringing down the corridor. A muted bark sounded from the other side of the door; opening it, she was nearly bowled over by ten stone of wolfhound. Rudi yelped excitedly, wagging his nub and dancing about in a circle.

But the wolfhound's greeting would have to wait; a hand on his collar dragged him aside, and then Alix was in her husband's arms. “Thank gods,” Liam breathed, clutching her close. “Oh thank you, Virtues.” He buried his face in her hair, whispering his thanks over and over.

“Welcome home, Your Highness,” said Albern Highmount from somewhere over Liam's shoulder. “I will let you have your privacy.” With some difficulty, the chancellor squeezed past the tangled couple and out the door, closing it behind him.

Liam took her face in his hands, grey eyes flitting over her as though he couldn't quite believe she was really there. “When we knew Erik was free, I told myself that it had to mean you were all right. That you'd killed the bloodbinder and were on your way home. But I couldn't be sure. I was so afraid for you . . .” He clasped her to him again.

“And I for you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I had no news until a few days ago, and then only from an innkeep who sold us some horses. Liam . . .” She pulled back. “He said you almost . . . That Erik almost . . .”

“But he didn't.” Liam managed something just short of a smile. “He didn't, thanks to you. You saved us both. Again.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She had so much to tell him, but she hardly knew where to begin.

But no, that wasn't true. She knew exactly where to begin. “I love you, Liam. I love you so much . . .”

His eyes were filling now too. He gathered her up again, and there they stayed for the gods knew how long, clinging to each other, whispering all the words of love and regret they'd held in their hearts for the past month.

Liam led her to the upholstered chairs near the window and they curled up together, doing their best to keep Rudi's excited affection at bay. Alix rested her head on her husband's chest, listening to the gradually slowing rhythm of his heart. She let herself bask in his nearness—the warmth of his arms, his voice, his scent—for as long as she dared before forcing herself back to reality. “Erik. I've got to see him.”

Liam's voice hummed against her ear. “He'll want to see you too.”

“I thought I'd find him here with you and Highmount.”

“He doesn't spend much time here these days.” Liam paused, as though choosing his next words carefully. “He doesn't spend much time out of his chambers at all. He's . . . different, Allie. You'll see.”

She sat up in alarm. “What do you mean, different?”

“No, not like that. He's himself, just . . . well, you'll see. He's still struggling with what happened.”

“That's to be expected.”

“Maybe, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch. He's torturing himself with guilt, and nothing I say seems to help. Maybe you can get through to him. He listens to you more than anyone.”

That had been true once, but now? Alix wasn't so sure. “All I can do is try.” She rose and held out her hand, but Liam stayed where he was.

“Maybe it's better if you go alone. I think he'd appreciate having you to himself for a little while.” Squeezing her hand, he added, “He needs you more than ever, Allie.”

“He's got me. He's got us both.”

Liam stood and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “I'll see you tonight.”

“What will you do until then?”

“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “Govern.”

Alix smiled. Squeezing his hand one more time, she headed off to find Erik.

At first, her steps were self-assured, purposeful. But as she drew nearer to the ancient oak doors, her gait faltered. She hadn't been here since
that day
, when Pollard and the others had nailed a wooden beam across those doors and sealed the king inside. Her heart tightened painfully at the memory. The look in Erik's eyes, the sound of his voice on the far side of the door.
I would rather have died than see this day . . .

Erik might need her, but would he truly welcome her after what she'd done? He would
understand
—of that, Alix had no doubt. His head would tell him that she had done what was necessary. But in his heart, he would always carry the knowledge that she was capable of betraying him. How could things ever be the same between them after that?

A pair of royal guardsmen flanked the king's door. They were more than a little surprised to see their captain, but they stood aside wordlessly, recognising her obvious intent. They did not go far, however, and Alix was keenly aware of their eyes on her. They understood only too well the import of the reunion that was about to take place.

She paused, a slight tremor in her hand as it hovered over the door.
You'd think there was a horde of thralls behind that oak panelling.
Steeling herself, she knocked.

“Who is it?”

“It's . . .” Her throat closed over itself. Swallowing, she said, “It's Alix.”

Silence.

She wondered if he'd heard. She was about to repeat herself when the door swung open and there he was, standing before her with wide eyes. “By the gods,” Erik breathed, “is it really you?”

She might have asked the same. For a moment she couldn't find her voice, as overcome as when she'd first laid eyes on Rodrik. She'd been taken aback by how very much he looked like Erik. Now it was the reverse that shocked her into silence.

He had lost nearly a stone, enough so that it showed in his cheekbones and the set of his eyes. His skin was pale, as though he hadn't set foot out of doors in an age. But it was the week's growth of beard that sealed it, a thick dusting of
reddish gold over the too-sharp angles of his jaw—that, and the haunted cast of his gaze, the look of a man who has known true suffering.

What have they done to you?
The same words she'd spoken over Rodrik, only this time, she counted herself among those responsible.

Slowly, without really thinking, Alix sank to her knees before her king. Bowing her head, she whispered, “Forgive me.”

He made a small, choking sound and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Don't you dare,” he said, his voice catching. “Don't you dare, Alix.”

He threw his arms around her, clutching her as close as Liam had done, and Alix finally broke. All the pain and guilt she'd struggled with for so many weeks—for Erik, for Liam, for Rodrik—came pouring out of her in a rush of bitter grief, and in that moment, she forgot that Erik needed her.
She
was the one who needed
him
, his love and his grace and most of all his forgiveness.

Sinking into his embrace, Alix could feel all those things, and knew they were hers.

*   *   *

“We buried him at Boswyck Valley.” Alix's voice still trembled a little, but she forced herself to meet Erik's eye as she spoke.

“How fitting,” he murmured. He was quiet for long moments, staring into the hearth. Then he said, “I'm sorry you had to go through that. It must have been terrible for you.”

“It was terrible for everyone. Rodrik most of all.”

“Still, I'm glad you got to know him a little. I have that, at least.”

As though a secondhand memory were any kind of consolation. Alix shook her head bitterly. “I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

“Alix.” He reached over and took her hand. “Listen to me. What you did for me . . . I cannot even put it into words. Your strength, your loyalty . . .” His fingers tightened around hers. “Nothing I can ever say or do will show you the measure of my gratitude. Know that I will carry it in my heart for the rest of my days.”

The words were a balm to her aching soul. Still . . . “I told Rodrik I would get him to Erroman. I
promised
him, Erik. But I couldn't . . .” She trailed off, tears threatening to overtake her again.

Erik smiled sadly. “You are the most formidable person I've ever known, but you cannot control everything.”

She blew out a shaking breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I'm not sure what to make of that coming from you. I've never met anyone who takes more on his shoulders than you do.”

“I am king,” he said softly, and he shuddered.

Alix paused, taken aback by the strange note of revulsion in his voice. “You
are
king. And a great man.”

“A great man.” He passed a hand over his eyes. “I wonder, what does that mean?”

“I can tell you what it doesn't mean. A great man isn't infallible, or incapable of being hurt.”

“No, but at the very least, he should be able to trust himself.”

“You can trust yourself.”

Blue eyes met hers, sharp and clear and brimming with pain. “How can you say that after what I've done?”

“You're not responsible for what happened to you. You know that, don't you?”

“On some level, yes. But the fact remains that I nearly burned my own brother at the stake.”

Alix went rigid.

“Ah.” Erik looked away. “You haven't had the details yet, I see.”

“I . . .” She faltered briefly, unable to conceal her shock. “I heard that Liam and the others were nearly executed. I assumed . . .”

“You assumed I would deal with him as I dealt with Tom. But that wasn't good enough for me, you see. I wanted to make a statement with Liam's death, so I decided to burn him at the stake.” Erik squeezed his eyes shut, a spasm of pain wracking his features. His hands gripped the arms of his chairs until his knuckles went white. “Did they tell you, Alix? Did they tell you just how close I came to murdering my brother?”

“Not you. It was never you, Erik.”

“It doesn't matter . . .”

“Of course it matters!” Alix dropped to her haunches before him. “Now it's your turn to listen to me. The enemy tried to kill Liam.
The enemy
, not you. They used your body as a weapon. You were no more a part of it than if you'd been tied to a chair and forced to watch.”

“I know that. I do. And yet somehow . . .” He shook his head.

“Give yourself time.”

He sighed. “Time is the one thing we don't have, Alix.”

There, she could not argue.

Silence stretched between them. Gradually, a wry smile crept over Erik's face. “Aren't we a pair? What do you say, Captain—shall we agree to absolve one another?”

If only it were that easy.
Aloud, she said, “That sounds like a good idea.”

He stood and stretched. “I should turn in. As should you. You've had a long journey. Thank you again, Alix.” He smiled.

Alix knew the royal mask when she saw it, and this time she wasn't playing along. She put her arms around him, rested her head on his shoulder. “Rodrik asked me to give you a message,” she murmured. “He said he'd wait for you in your Domain. He wants you to meet his family.”