The King's Sons (The Herezoth Trilogy) (36 page)

“Nor
I, but we must. We have to tell the others. Our men can’t let themselves be
dragged out the building. If one of Linstrom’s sorcerers transports them away….
I’ll spread the word.”

Kora
moaned, “If only we had more time. We need time, need to move everything of
value out the manor. If Oakdowns falls to Linstrom, he’ll be looking for
mercenaries. We don’t want to fund him.”

“There’s
nothing we can do about that. You’re right, there isn’t time, not for clearing
out the place. We’ll have to ensure that Oakdowns doesn’t fall.”

“It
can’t,” Kora whispered. “Rexson, it can’t, can it?”

“We’ll
do everything we can to prevent that.”

“I’m
so sorry. I’m so terribly, wretchedly…. I never meant to drive Linstrom this
far, turning Lottie. I never suspected Vane’s visit to her would unleash such a
mania. I don’t understand this, I…. I’m the Marked One, aren’t I? I’m supposed
to save Herezoth, supposed to bloody deliver it from its blasted worst hour,
not deliver the place to Esclavay!”

“Kora,
you’ve done no such thing.”

“No,”
she admitted, “I suppose I haven’t. Not yet, anyway. But come tonight….”

“We’ll
prevail.”

“Either
that, or you’ll be dead, and I’ll be in chains in Linstrom’s basement.” She’d
prefer Rexson’s fate. As for her brother, her children, she refused to picture
them in either circumstance.

Kora
asked, “Do you remember when we fought Petroc for my chain? You, me, and
Kansten. The first Kansten.” That brought Rexson to smile: Kansten Carder, a
feisty soul and fellow member of the Crimson League. A spirited woman whom
Zalski’s wife had killed. “It took all my magic to overpower him, with all the
help you and Kansten could give. He was one sorcerer. We need a miracle, and
the Giver, his strongest devotees are the first to admit he’s not fond of
those. He averages less than one per lifetime, and we’ve had ours, with your
reinstatement. Just him intervening to mark me with that ruby….”

Rexson’s
face was expressionless. “If we’ve had our miracle, let’s hope our children are
due theirs.”

“I’ve
been racking my brain, trying to remember old spells, to remember anything….
All I’ve hit upon are Hansrelto’s amulet enchantments. They were different for
each stone, and Laskenay and I, we copied them all. I can’t remember them now.”

“Kansten’s
amulet,” remarked Rexson. His tone became nostalgic. “Her jade amulet. Those
cyclones she could make….” Kora leapt to her feet.

“Zalski’s
wife stole that amulet from her. Used it the day we took the Palace. Do you
have…?”

“I
dumped it in the ocean with Hansrelto’s spellbook, when I was taking Vane to
Traigland.”

Kora’s
face fell. “The amulet? Why? You saved my necklace. You kept the Lifestone.”

“No
one but you can use that necklace. As for the Lifestone, no one but the League
knew Zalski had it, could even be sure it existed beyond legends. The amulet
was different. Scores of people saw its magic in our final battle. When the
opportunity arose to destroy the thing, I took it, and I can’t say I
apologize.”

Kora
narrowed her eyes. “I’d like to have it now. Someone could use it.”

“And
have Linstrom’s men turn the magic against him, like Zalski’s wife did
Laskenay? No, Kora. That amulet’s best where it is. Without it, Vane might have
known his mother. Laskenay might have….”

“There’s
no point arguing the impossible. What’s done is done…. I shouldn’t leave
Linstrom unattended much longer.”

“You’ve
nothing else to report?” asked the king.

“You
know everything I do.”

“You’ll
partner Vane this evening?”

Kora
felt weak. She would have to eat something soon, appetite or no; for now, she
steered Rexson to the door and told him, “I’ll do everything I can to keep Vane
safe. I owe that to Laskenay. Until then, I’ve got to track Linstrom. Please,
leave me to my chain. Where’s my daughter, do you know?”

“Vane
took her and Francie to Teena’s.”

Good.
Kansten was safe. She would grudge being sent away, but that didn’t matter, as
long as she was gone from Oakdowns.

Rexson
left the room, and Kora thanked the Giver that her daughter had no magic.
Otherwise, three of her children would be at risk. To think she might lose two
was bad enough; to think of Walt and Wil made her already dry throat ache like
it hadn’t since Zalski had destroyed her vocal cords. Trembling, Kora took a
sip of water and returned to stalking the man who threatened not only Herezoth,
but everything she held dear.

Outside
Kora’s room, preparations for Linstrom’s attack continued at a breakneck pace.
The youngest sorcerers made every window on the ground floor impenetrable by
magic or projectile. The evacuation of all staff and as many stable animals as
possible wore on according to Hune’s schedule. Thad Greller came with his
sword, and Hayden Grissner, of the Crimson League, with his bow. Vane saw
soldiers transported in waves from the Podrar barracks, where the general gave
a briefing, to his estate. Rexson summoned his personal guard from the Palace,
while Kora watched Linstrom gather more and more supporters at the Hall of
Sorcery. To everyone’s relief at Oakdowns—for they stood no chance
without it—Jane Trand drafted her spell to nullify Linstrom’s
befuddlement magic.

When
the king gave Gratton a note for the Podrar barracks, one that explained
Linstrom’s ambitions and was only to be opened should Oakdowns fall, the
guardsman assumed Rexson would want to stay and fight, and tried to convince
him to do otherwise. The king would hear nothing of that. He commanded
Gratton’s silence, and the man left to deliver his missive.

Back
at the Palace, Valkin sat in his father’s office, in one of the chairs around
the circular table. He had just dismissed Tanya Greller, the Duchess of
Yangerton. Following August’s advice, he had accomplished what he’d hoped from
the encounter, though Her Grace was not pleased he’d denied her funding and men
to redistrict her duchy. Before leaving, Tanya swore with all vehemence to hold
Rexson to Valkin’s word; Valkin had promised to oversee the work as soon as possible,
and without fail in the next four months. The prince was glad of the threat,
which implied she accepted his words as the king’s. The duchess would not
weasel out a different arrangement once Rexson returned to his normal duties,
and that had been Valkin’s one dread.

Then
the door swung open, and Valkin whirled to face it in his chair, terrified for
one desperate moment that Tanya Greller had returned to demand something.
Neslan stood before him, his face inquisitive, his blond hair tied at the neck
like always. Like Valkin’s. He eased the door shut and took the same chair the
Duchess of Yangerton had used, next to his brother.

“How
went things with Tanya?”

“Are
you really going to ask that, when Hune’s at Oakdowns? And Father? When we know
what they’re doing there?”

“That’s
precisely why I’m asking how things went with Tanya. Because I can’t bear to
think of what Hune’s doing. How went the meeting?”

“Well
enough, I suppose. As well as I could have hoped.”

“You
do realize you made that conference turn out in your favor while frightened out
of your skin for those with Vane? That’s no small accomplishment.”

Valkin
spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll make a decent king, I know. I’ve been fed
that line by everyone. If I hear it once more….”

“Why
are you angry? Nothing will happen to Father. It can’t possibly. He’d never
stay at Oakdowns for the battle.”

The
crown prince only refrained from shouting so as not to be heard from the hall
outside. He jostled Neslan as he rose to his feet and started pacing. “You think
that’s what I’m worried about where the king’s concerned?”

Neslan,
as always, was unimpressed by his brother’s bluster. “It’s bound to be part of
your fears,” he pressed.

“The
man’s my
father.
Before I’m his
successor, I’m his bloody son.”

“Do
you think I’m blind to how much you respect the man? The one who read to us as
children? Who placed us on our ponies the first time we rode them and assured
us, when he saw how nervous we were, that he’d hold the guide ropes? The one
who looked like he aged five years in the month and a half those fools held us
kidnapped?”

Shame
heated Valkin’s face. “Of course you realize….”

“You
have a multitude of reasons to wish the king well, and it’s for one mere set of
those I wanted to make sure you aren’t ignoring how you did him proud today,
not only as his son, but yes, his successor. You’re both. You’ll always be
both, and if you start resenting the people who care about you for admitting
plain and cold reality, you’ll find yourself quite lonely, quite quickly.”

“I
know you never meant to offend.” Valkin grasped for something else to say. “Why
did Hune leave a note, to tell us where he’d gone? Why wouldn’t he tell us
himself? Take proper leave when he knows he might not make it back to us?”

Neslan’s
voice was dry. “He knew you’d order him to stay. He’d never disobey a direct
command from his prince, so he left secretly. It’s nothing more complicated
than that. For the last time, I told you I don’t want to think about….”

“Hune’s
where he needs to be, Neslan. Where we’d both be if we could choose.”

Neslan’s
expression hardened, though he maintained his composure and kept to his seat.
“You know full well you can’t risk yourself. What if Linstrom attacks before
Father leaves? Kills both him and Hune? If you were there and he killed you
too?”

“Oh,
stop it, Neslan. I know I must act the dutiful coward and hole myself up here.
You too. What if I stayed here alone, and you, Father, Hune, you all met your
ends at Oakdowns? Who’d be my successor, if something happened to me before I
married and had a child?” Neslan shrugged his shoulders. “You see? We have to
be proper little caterpillars, you and I, in our bloody cocoon.”

Neslan
observed, “Turning bitter won’t change things.”

Valkin
then did something he had not dared in years. With a wave of his hand, all the
scrolls Tanya Greller had left for him on the table went careening through the
air, slamming against the tapestried wall with a series of muffled thuds before
they fell in a heap. The gesture brought Neslan to his feet and his brother’s
side.

“This
will stop,” he said, and forced Valkin to sit once more. “You know better than
to risk revealing…. What is wrong with you?”

“What’s
wrong with me?” Valkin gestured about the room. “I don’t want this! No one in
his right mind would want this!”

“Then
I suppose we’re all blessed you’d rather do something else, now aren’t we? Do
you know what happens when someone who wants the throne possesses it, Valkin?
Zalski Forzythe’s abuses happen, that’s what.”

Valkin
tried to respond, but his voice failed him. He had never considered the
situation from that perspective.

“You
would never be fit to hold power if you longed to do so. So stop feeling sorry
for yourself, start considering your reluctance to rule your greatest asset,
and in the Giver’s name,
cease displaying
your bloody magic.
”

Neslan’s
words made Valkin shake, because they were true. They were undeniably,
horrifyingly accurate. A sovereign who had no qualms making decisions to impact
the lives and even deaths of his subjects would soon become a tyrant. Valkin’s
feelings of unworthiness had overwhelmed him for so long that he’d never once
considered how his conviction of inadequacy was nothing less than a saving
grace.

Valkin
thought of his father. The king never complained, but Valkin had spent
countless hours with the man as he saw to his duties, and Rexson loathed the
crown. Despite the years behind him, he still felt the burden of ruling. Rexson
never overlooked that the slightest adjustment to taxes meant significant
changes for someone in his realm. He never forgot that sending grain to
Partsvale during a drought meant putting off road repair in Podrar or
constructing a town hall in one of the Fishing Villages. He strove to attend to
as many needs as possible, balancing urgency with tasks long overdue. And
Rexson was never satisfied with the results. He’d once warned Valkin, “The
moment you grow complacent, you’re finished.”

No,
Rexson did not enjoy being king. For one, he couldn’t trust his nobles. Every
one of them alive during Zalski’s coup had sworn allegiance to the usurper, and
still, Rexson ruled week after week, month after month. He trained his son to
rule after him, knowing Valkin balked at the very thought of succeeding him;
the king trained him
because
he
balked so strongly.

Valkin
used to think he’d hidden his reluctance from his father. Now he realized the
only person hoodwinked had been himself. Rexson knew what his own life was, and
he knew his son. He knew Valkin would shirk from the thought of succeeding his
father. All this time, Valkin had striven to spare the king his true feelings,
fearing to shame, or guilt, or offend Rexson. He had hidden nothing, and felt
nothing short of stunned to suspect his true emotions had made the king proud.