The King of Forever (Scarlet and the White Wolf, #4) (12 page)

Liall had been put out, but even he listened to Nevoi on matters of the sword.

“I wasn’t aware I had any limits,” Scarlet said with a cockiness he did not feel.

“Good. Never let me convince you otherwise.”

Scarlet’s sword belt hung from the battered, ancient helmet of the quintain. Nevoi took it down and briefly admired the twin pair of curved Morturii long-knives. The steel was pure black etched with silver in wondrous shapes depicting the violent Hilurin tale of Deva’s creation of the world.

“I never tire of seeing these weapons,” he said. He traced his finger over the spun wire of the hafts, which had no guards. “They’re quite beautiful. How did you come by them?”

Scarlet smiled, remembering Masdren’s leather shop and his pack of noisy little children. “In Ankar. They were a gift from a friend of my father’s.”

“Is all the metalwork in Ankar so fine?”

“Yes. And my knives were not even made by a true master. Just an ordinary smith in the souk. The Morturii are wondrous fond of iron. Suits them, I guess. The soldiers are just about as hard, and they forge better steel than the Minh, even.”

“I have never met a Minh,” Nevoi said thoughtfully. He handed Scarlet the sword belt.

“Trust me, you don’t want to.” Scarlet buckled the belt around his waist.

“Was this Masdren a smith?”

“A leatherworker. He made the sheaths, see?” Scarlet turned to show Nevoi the craftsmanship of the tooled leather, black to match the knives.

“Black steel is rare in Rshan,” Nevoi said. “Our land lacks the minerals to forge it properly, and the Morturii charge a dear price to trade for them. Since a bright sword cleaves as well as a dark one, it doesn’t seem worth the cost. That is, until you see black steel for yourself. Then nearly anything is worth it.”

Several of the horses lifted their heads and neighed. From the far end of the stables, a huge set of iron-barred doors creaked mightily as they parted, letting in a rush of chilly air. Shadows moved over the timbered walls as pale spring daylight crept in. Scarlet could not recall those doors ever being opened when he was present.

The stallion in the nearest stall whickered and twitched his ears, the whites of his eyes showing.

“New additions to the stables,” Nevoi said. The sound of shod hooves clacking on stone rang out, and all the stabled horses stirred with interest. “Many, from the sound of them. Shall we go and see?”

Scarlet nodded eagerly. He was infatuated with the fine warhorses of the palace stables, and had made a point of learning all their names. Horses were one of the familiar things of Rshan, though they were much larger than Byzan horses and bred to endure the fierce cold.

A host of men in unfamiliar livery led a double line of horses into the stables. Most were the dappled grays and sables that were the norm for northern breeds, but a matched team of superb white stallions with eyes like red jewels captivated Scarlet.

The white horses were led by a lean, sharp-faced man. He wore purple riding clothes with the badge of a sail on his tunic, and sported the fussiest beard Scarlet had ever seen.

Nevoi frowned. “Tebet colors,” he murmured aside to Scarlet. “Perhaps we should go.”

Scarlet stared at the proud animals, unwilling to leave. None of the strange grooms or the Nauhinir guards made to speak to him, but he saw Theor, Liall’s great bear of a horsemaster, overseeing the process. Scarlet waved to him.

Theor looked alarmed. He shook his head and shot a glowering look at Nevoi.

“Let us leave,” Nevoi said, taking Scarlet’s arm.

“Ser Keriss!”

Nevoi muttered a low curse and turned with Scarlet. The lean man in purple swaggered in their direction and threw back his cloak so that his sail badge was clearly visible. His clipped beard was a thin line tracing his jaws and meeting in a sharp point on his chin. Scarlet noted his hair and beard had a tinge of red.

“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, ser,” the man said in Sinha, stopping a few feet away and hooking his thumbs in his belt. He looked Scarlet up and down and bowed briefly. “Lord Jarad Hallin, of Tebet.”

It took Scarlet a moment to translate the words the man had spoken. “You know me, ser?” he replied in Sinha. He knew his accent was poor, though he practiced it daily.

Hallin turned his head and spoke in rapid-fire Sinha to the grooms and armed men accompanying him. Scarlet could not follow it, but the men in purple laughed and cast scornful looks his way.

Scarlet was determined to keep his manners in check. “Pardon me?”

“Don’t bother, ser Keriss,” Nevoi said in Bizye. “The man is baiting you. Come.”

“Baiting?” Hallin said with a grin, his Bizye perfect. “Not at all. I would not so insult the consort of the king. Not when I come bearing the bride-gifts of Tebet.”

Scarlet felt his face go hot. “Bride?” he blurted.

“Aye, as I said.” Hallin swept a hand expansively toward the horses. “These magnificent animals are a bride-gift from the king’s future wife, the Rose Lady of Tebet.”

Scarlet’s cheeks burned as if he’d been slapped, and he was suddenly very aware that he was armed. Twice armed, if he counted his sparring blades. They were blunted, true, but they would make a nice dent in Hallin’s nose.

“I know it’s spring, but she’s a bit early to the dance, this rose,” he said, his back stiff with anger.
Bride? Not if I have anything to say about it. But do I?
“She might find the ballroom empty when she gets there. The king hasn’t agreed to marry anyone.”

“Formalities.” Hallin smirked, placing a hand over his middle and bowing again. “Mere formalities. We expect the announcement daily in Tebet. Everyone knows that the king’s dear kinswoman is the logical choice for his queen. Logical, and,” he held up a finger, “quite necessary. A monarch must breed and a dynasty must have an heir. Unless...” he touched that finger to his mouth and evinced an air of shock, “unless
you
plan to fill that role for the king?”

Behind Hallin, Theor smacked one of the white stallions on the rump to get him moving. “Let’s move it along!” he bellowed. “Are we stabling these beasts or gabbing them to sleep?” His face suffused with an angry color that turned his dark skin the hue of red oak.

Nevoi took the cue and nodded to Hallin. “Good day to you, ser.” He took Scarlet’s arm in an iron grip and marched him away.

Once they were through the stables and at the foot of the stairs leading into the palace wardroom, Scarlet wrenched his arm from Nevoi, his face burning in shame.

“Why did you do that?”

“To save you from having to speak to a fool.”

“I can
speak
for myself,” Scarlet said hotly. “I had a thing or two more to say to that puffed-up purple rooster.”

“No, you didn’t,” Nevoi said calmly. “You had much to say to Lady Ressilka, but she wasn’t there. Her father’s fool was.
Lord
Hallin, my arse!” he snorted. “His lands in Tebet are rotten ice and petrified forests, and he’s a mongrel half-blood to boot. He is Ressanda’s low creature, one the baron doesn’t mind making into a jackass. A true lord would have had more respect for his baron’s name than to engage in the farce we just witnessed.”

“He was lying, then?”

Nevoi looked down at Scarlet. “What are you afraid of? That your lover will marry without saying a word to you about it and promptly forget you ever existed? That’s not the Nazheradei I’ve come to know.”

“I’m not afraid,” Scarlet lied.

Nevoi slapped him on the back of his head.

“Ow!” Scarlet rubbed his scalp. “What in three hells was that for?”

“For lying.”

“I thought the fucking lessons were over for today,” Scarlet muttered dangerously. “And I didn’t lie. It’s not fear, it’s...” He groped for words. “All right, maybe it is fear.”

“So fight back. Fear isn’t a very useful emotion for a warrior. Rage is better.”

“I’m not a warrior. I can’t fight back. Not like she does. I don’t care for the idea of putting myself in her dress.”

Nevoi tilted his head, as if he were trying to puzzle out a particularly good riddle. “Her dress. You mean you don’t want to fight like a woman would.”

“I can’t very well challenge her to swords, now can I?”

“You could. It’s been known to happen.”

“Liall would have a fit. Besides I’m not fighting any girl.”

“That girl is nearly half again your size.”

“I don’t care!” Scarlet burst out. “She’s still a
girl.”

Nevoi chuckled shortly. “There is a place for youthful chivalry in the world, but you’d be a fool to be gracious in this battle. The Rose Lady would smile gently and hike her skirts up so she could plant her heels into your back on her way to the throne. This is not Byzantur, ser. The men of Rshan hold the reins of power in both family and state, but our women are not the soft and obedient creatures of Kalaslyn. Here, they can kill as efficiently as the men, and it is folly to give quarter to an affirmed enemy once the battle is engaged.”

Scarlet kicked at an errant bit of hay on the flagstones. “I don’t want her as an enemy. I don’t want any enemies. I just want to be with Liall for as long as I can. I want some measure of peace and happiness for us. We’ve damn well earned it.”

“Ah, child,” Nevoi said sadly. He slid his arm around Scarlet’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. “Did no one ever tell you? There is no peace for kings.”

***

I
t was very late when Liall returned for sleep. He crept around their bed  chamber, obviously trying to be silent as he undressed and pulled off his boots, but Scarlet was wide awake. Someone would have told Liall about the stable and the horses, of course, and about Jarad Hallin and what he had said.

Scarlet could have spoken out and told Liall there was no need for quiet, that he couldn’t sleep, but then Liall would have come and tried to soothe him, tried to speak to him, and he wanted that least of all.

The bed dipped as Liall’s weight settled in beside him. Scarlet lay there with his back turned to his lover, his will focused on remaining perfectly still. The fire had died down and it was warm enough that no one had come to stoke it again. The smoldering embers were the only light in the room, giving the walls a sullen glow.

“I know you’re awake,” Liall said quietly into the gloom. “I can tell by your breathing.”

Scarlet did not move. “Is it true?” he whispered into his pillow.

Liall hesitated, and Scarlet’s heart leapt.

“No,” Liall said at last. “I’ve given them no answer, but neither have I refused.”

“Are you sending those horses back?” Scarlet murmured, as if telling a secret. He was afraid if he let his voice rise above a whisper that he might start shouting, and then he might just get up and start breaking things. His anger was like a leashed wolf inside him, but he couldn’t turn it on Liall. It wasn’t Liall’s fault.

“I cannot,” Liall said haltingly. “It would be a grave insult to the baron, and I’ve just asked him for something rather important.”

“Important to you?”

“To the realm. If I offend him, he may refuse. That would be disastrous, for I would have to respond to his refusal with steel and blood. A new king with a precarious crown can’t afford to look weak. I also can’t afford to alienate Tebet. Please try to understand. I would never—”

“Hurt me,” Scarlet finished for him. “So you’ve said. Good night, Liall.”

“Scarlet...”

“Good night.”

Liall rolled heavily onto his back and sighed deeply. “May I please ask you one thing, at least? I’ve spoken to Tesk... what happened at the hunt? Tesk said you didn’t move when the cat leapt. You’re so fast, Scarlet. I’ve
seen
how fast you can be. Why didn’t you move?”

Scarlet had wondered about that himself. “I don’t know,” he answered. Liall was tensely quiet, and Scarlet thought he understood the root of his lover’s fear
. “No
, I didn’t deliberately not move. I don’t have a death wish, and I won’t throw myself off a cliff if you marry Ressilka.” He punched his pillow. “I may throw her off one, though.”

Liall touched his shoulder gently. “We should talk.”

Scarlet pressed his cheek hard to his pillow. “I don’t want to talk to the bloody King of Rshan right now. I’m tired. Good night.”

Liall did not argue, but he kept his hand on Scarlet’s shoulder until he fell asleep. When Scarlet woke up the next morning, Liall had left and his side of the bed was cold.

***

“N
o,” Scarlet said stubbornly, his arms crossed. He sat in the room he would forever think of as the queen’s solarium, no matter that there was no queen now, just a king.

And how long will that last,
he thought sourly.

Two weeks had passed since Ressilka’s gift of horseflesh had arrived, a span in which he barely saw Liall and in which it had become painfully obvious to Scarlet that the matter of Ressilka was not simply going to go away. Her gifts were in the stables. Her servants were in the palace kitchens. Her emissaries and messengers were constantly present in the inner tier, waiting to pounce on Liall for an audience. Jarad Hallin seemed to be lurking in every hall that Scarlet visited, always with that scornful, knowing smirk stamped in the middle of his beard. Scarlet had even begun to fancy that his own servants—Nenos, Chos, and Dvi—were looking at him with skeptical eyes.
You are not enough,
those eyes seemed to say.
You cannot give the king what he needs most. Only a woman can do that, and there is one waiting.

Everywhere Scarlet turned, there she was. The very walls seemed to whisper of her, and of endings. He felt harried by that presence, and his temper had grown frayed.

Liall had brought him to the solarium when they first came to Rshan, because he was unaccustomed to the cold, dark months and had begun to sicken from lack of light, suffering from headaches, dizziness, and sudden flares of temper.

I feel sick now. I’m sun-sick. With the light comes a new queen. I could almost wish for winter again, if it meant we could go back to the way things were. I have to tell him. I have to remind him. Like me, he forgot, but we can’t live inside a dream.