The Shadowed Throne (3 page)

“We all want them answered,” Torc agreed.

Iorwerth and several of the other councillors nodded.

“I'm all ears,” said Laela.

“Ye say the King is dead,” said Saeddryn. “An' I believe ye. If he were alive, he'd have come back by now.”

“He's gone,” said Laela. “I swear on me own heart.”

“But if that's the case, my lady,” said Saeddryn, “where is his body?”

Iorwerth stood up. “It's not that we don't believe ye,” he said, glaring at Saeddryn. “I do. But I want the King's bones back here. He deserves a proper burial.”

“An' you deserve the chance to see him buried,” Laela agreed. “Listen, I care about this too. He was my father, don't forget. I owe him everythin'. An' I promise I'm gonna do everythin' in my power t'find his body.”

“None of the griffiners we sent out found anything,” said Iorwerth.

“We'll send more,” said Laela. “I'll go myself when Oeka's a little bigger.”
When I think I can leave my throne an' find it still here when I get back.

“I'll go an' look,” Saeddryn said unexpectedly. “He was my cousin.”

Laela liked that idea a lot. “Maybe the Night God'll guide yeh.”

“What of my father?” Aenae demanded. “What of the Mighty Skandar? You say he did not die.”

“Not so far as I know,” said Laela. “He flew away an' never came back. I don't see why he'd come back t'Malvern with his human dead,” she added sadly.

“If he did return, he would have a comfortable life for the rest of his days.”

Laela knew perfectly well that Aenae's greatest desire had always been to fight his gigantic father to the death. “Of course. When we search for my father's bones, we'll search for Skandar, too. He freed the North as much as my father did.”

“There's one other thing I want t'know,” Saeddryn interrupted. Her eye narrowed.

“Ask,” said Laela.

“How do we know ye really are Arenadd's daughter?”

Several of the other councillors glanced at each other.

Laela laughed weakly. “I would've thought yeh could tell just by lookin'. I look more like him than
you
do.”

Saeddryn's lips pursed. “It could be just a coincidence.”

“Maybe, but when I told him my mother's name, he knew her, an' he knew that he'd been with her.”

“The King's word is enough for me,” Iorwerth said stoutly. “His promise and her face are enough. Why would he lie about it?”

Laela faced Saeddryn square on. “He planned to make me his heir even before he knew I was his daughter. The Master of Learning went through his papers an' found documents to prove it. He was gonna adopt me—make me a Taranisäii. He only died before he could announce it—the papers are all signed an' sealed.”

“It's true,” said Iorwerth. “I saw them with my own eyes.”

“So did I,” said the Master of Taxation.

“And I,” said the Master of Building.

“I would've showed 'em to you, too, but you was off busy at the Temple,” Laela said sweetly to the infuriated Saeddryn. “I figured now was as good a time as any.” She took a scroll from her sleeve and handed it over.

Saeddryn's single eye scanned the neat writing. Stone-faced, she handed it back. “That's his writing, sure enough. Forgive me for doubtin' ye.”

Laela bowed slightly. “It's only right that yeh should be askin'.”

“Now, on to a new issue,” Torc said. “There's something else we ought to discuss.”

“What is it?” said Laela. Beside her, Oeka yawned and lay down on her belly.

“A Queen needs a consort,” said Torc. “It's time ye started choosing a husband, my lady.”

Laela's heart sank. “I've been thinkin' about it already, don't worry.”

“We have a good suggestion,” said Saeddryn. “The noblest blood in Tara. Yer own age, too.”

“Oh, who?” Laela was suspicious already.

“My son, Caedmon,” said Saeddryn. “He's another Taranisäii—it'd be the perfect marriage, t'strengthen our great family.”

“Hm.” Laela rubbed her chin to hide her panic. “I see yer point. Give me some time to think it over, why don't yeh?”

“Of course.” Saeddryn smiled.

“D
on't do it,” Iorwerth said the instant the meeting was over and he and Laela were alone. He came closer, frowning and urgent. “Marry Caedmon, and he'll be on the throne and ye in a dungeon by the end of the week.”

“I already thought of that,” Laela said evenly. “I ain't so stupid as I look. Only question is, what do I do instead?”

“Ye could marry
my
son, perhaps.”

“He's
twelve
.” Laela waved away Iorwerth's protests. “I can't rush into this. Whoever I marry'll change everythin', an' I want it to be for the better.”

“Betroth yerself to my son,” Iorwerth persisted. “When he's older, ye can marry. My family's a strong one—ties with us would make all the difference. It'd put a lot more people on yer side.”

“I see that, but . . .”

“Ye need to be strong, my lady,” Iorwerth said. “And ye need to become strong fast. The common people love ye, but ye can't ride on that forever.”

“I know.” Laela grinned and punched him in the side. “Lucky for me I got my strong right arm here.”

“I gave my life to King Arenadd,” said Iorwerth, unsmiling. “Not to Saeddryn. He wanted me to be yours after his death, and so I am. I was the King's man once, but now I'm the Queen's, through and through. Ye can trust that as ye trust the Night God herself.”

Laela felt humbled. “I always will, Iorwerth. That's a promise.”

S
omething had to be done about Saeddryn.

Laela paced back and forth in her room, shoulders hunched and face locked into a scowl. When she'd first taken the throne, she had thought removing her father's cousin would be easy. After all, Laela had heard her talk about her plan to steal Arenadd's throne with her own ears. By rights, as Queen, she should have been able to simply throw her in prison or have her exiled.

But Saeddryn had been too quick for her. The very day of Laela's coronation—before she could even return to the Eyrie—the High Priestess had sent her daughter away to wherever her son was already hiding. Laela had no idea where they were now, but she couldn't make herself forget the gleam in Saeddryn's eye when she told her that Arddryn had left Malvern like her brother Caedmon, who had vanished somewhere before Laela had come to the city. She hadn't needed to say anything else; the threat was clear enough. If anything happened to Saeddryn, her offspring would be ready and waiting to avenge their mother. Caedmon and Arddryn were Taranisäiis—there were plenty of people out there prepared to support them rather than this half-breed newcomer now sitting on the throne.

For now, Saeddryn seemed content to smile and bide her time, plotting who knew what with who knew which allies. Even her famously honest husband could well be in on it.

Laela couldn't trust anyone, and whether she liked it, or not she needed to keep Saeddryn where she was and pretend they were a happy family.

For now.

In the meantime, she had a country to run, and only a handful of people she knew could give her the kinds of advice she needed.

Silently, she thanked the gods for Iorwerth. Him she knew she could trust. Her father had trusted him, too, and he'd already proven himself worthy of that trust—he had been one of the people entrusted with the secret document Arenadd had written naming his daughter heir to Tara's throne. When Laela had returned to Malvern and announced herself, he had come to her side at once and supported everything she said.

Ever since that day, he had been her rock, and if she ever doubted him again, she remembered what her father had told her.

Now that's a man you can trust to the ends of the earth.
At the time, she'd noticed the way he said it—loudly and firmly, as if it were important. Now, looking back, she knew why.
He was already plannin' for all this. He wanted me t'know who to trust.

Laela cheered up slightly. She had Iorwerth and Kaanee, and she had Oeka. They were a formidable group of allies—Oeka in particular, in her own way. And there were others, she reminded herself. Maybe not as powerful as those three, but there were others.

I'm Arenadd's daughter,
she told herself.
He always said I was like him, an' he could handle anythin'.

Almost anything.

She shivered and tried to push the memory away. That didn't matter now. She was dealing with people and griffins, not . . . other things.

As if sensing her distress, Oeka appeared at that moment to interrupt. “Laela. I am hungry.”

Laela brought herself back to the present. “Me too. Let's go get somethin' t'eat, you an' me.”

T
he Queen and her partner ate together in the dining hall, waited on by one of the only other people in the Eyrie that they both trusted.

Laela grinned at the sight of her. “How's it goin', Inva?”

Inva smiled back nervously. She was middle-aged, her pale Northern skin freckled by the harsh sunlight of the land she'd been born in. Her slave collar had been removed quite a while ago, but the scars still stood out on her neck. The hair that had been cut short was growing back in a scatter of black and silver.

Laela watched her taste each dish before serving it. “Yeh know I can still get someone else to do that.”

Inva avoided her eye, the way she'd been trained to do from birth. “It is my honour to risk my life for you, my Queen.”

“It's
my
honour to have yeh do it,” said Laela. “But I ain't got too many friends in this Eyrie, an' I'd hate to lose one now.”

Inva finished tasting the food and laid it out on the table. “My duty is to offer up my life in place of my master's.”

“It was yer duty in Amoran,” Laela said bluntly, “when yeh still had a master.”

“You are my master, my Queen.”

“No, I'm yer employer,” said Laela. “There's a difference. This time, yer gettin' paid.”

Inva only smiled in that mysterious way of hers and poured some wine into a cup.

Inva's silences and rigid manners were often frustrating, but Laela was very fond of the former slave. During her visit to Amoran, where she and Arenadd had gone to free the other Northerners who were still enslaved by the Amorani Empire, Inva had been appointed as Laela's personal slave. After she and her fellows had been handed over to the King, largely thanks to Laela's own efforts, she had been set free like all the others.

Despite that, Inva had still spent her entire life up until a few months ago with a strict set of rules to follow, and so far it seemed she wasn't going to give them up.

The other freed slaves had been given homes in and around the Eyrie, on Laela's orders, and had been given jobs that suited their training. Laela had been amazed to find how well educated some of them were. Inva in particular could read and write far better than Laela could, and in several different languages to boot. She knew her numbers as well, and she had seen plenty of politics thanks to years spent working in the Emperor's court and among his family.

That was one of the reasons why Laela had made her her personal servant, and her assistant in all but name. Other people in the Eyrie disapproved of her keeping company with a “blackrobe,” but Laela didn't care. They could complain when they could give better advice than Inva could.

Her work done for now, Inva sat politely and waited while her mistress ate. She didn't try to make conversation.

That was for Laela to do. “How are the new quarters suitin' yeh?”

Inva smoothed down her skirt. “They are . . . cold.”

“Cheer up, spring's on its way,” said Laela.

Inva shivered. “This land is a desert of ice. The sun is weak here. Sometimes, I cannot see it at all, and I fear that it will not return.”

“This ain't the sun's land, Inva,” said Laela. “This place belongs to the moon.”

“I know. This is the Night God's realm.”

“Yeah.” Laela scowled. “Far as I'm concerned, it's
my
realm.”

“Forgive me, I did not—”

“Never mind about it; I'm just in a bad mood. So, got anythin' to report?”

“Nothing, my Queen.”

“Nothin' is nothin',” said Laela. “I know you. What's up?”

“It is not news, my Queen,” said Inva.

“Don't care. Tell me anyway.”

“Very well. One of my fellows wishes to meet you.”

“Is that all?” said Laela. “Who is it?”

“His name is Ravana.” Inva looked uncomfortable. “He is a dangerous man.”

“To me?” Laela said at once.

“No. You are his master now.”

“I told yeh, I ain't nobody's mas—”

“That does not matter,” Inva interrupted. “Not to him.”

“Why does he want t'see me?”

“To swear loyalty in person,” said Inva. “He claims to have skills that could be useful to you.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Laela.

Oeka gulped down the last of her meat and deigned to join the conversation. “We shall see him,” she said. “Any new ally is worthy to meet us.”

“Sure thing,” said Laela. “Show us t— I mean, we'll be up in our audience chamber. Show him up in a little while, will yeh? I just need some time to clean up an' get ready.”

Inva bowed. “As you command, my Queen.”

S
o far, Laela hadn't felt ready to move into her father's old quarters, but she had been making use of the audience chamber attached to them. It was at the very top of the largest of the Eyrie's towers and round to match the exterior. Lined with beautiful white marble, it featured a platform for Oeka to sit on. A chair placed just in front of it provided a seat for Laela.

Oeka hopped up onto the platform and settled down among the cushions. “I wonder why this slave wishes to see us?”

“He ain't no slave,” Laela said sharply. “There are no slaves in Tara any more.”

Oeka scratched her flank, unmoved. “This one had better have a reason to disturb us. We have more important matters to think of.”

“We'll see, won't we?” said Laela, who was frankly curious to find out. Of course, most likely Ravana just wanted to see her so he could either thank her for setting him free or complain about wanting to go back “home” to Amoran. There'd been plenty of both from the others.

“A little while” was nowhere near little enough for Laela, and she was thoroughly bored by the time Inva arrived with Ravana. However, when she laid eyes on the man who'd come to see her, she sat up at once.

Unlike the other former slaves who'd come to see her, Ravana didn't look the slightest bit nervous or awed. He walked ahead of Inva, moving with long, confident strides, his head held high.

But when he reached Laela's throne, all that disappeared in an instant. He knelt at her feet, bowing his head so low it nearly touched the floor. “Master.”

“Get up,” said Laela.

He did, looking her boldly in the face but saying nothing—waiting for her to speak first.

Laela examined him. He was tall and lean, like most Northerners, but thick with muscle in the arms and chest. Like all members of his race, he had black hair—still cropped close to his skull—and jet-black eyes that made his expression difficult to read. He wore a woollen tunic with a low-cut neck that showed several raw red scars on his body, and one of his ears had been half–hacked off.

“Ravana, is it?” Laela said eventually.

He nodded once.

“Inva said yeh wanted to see us.”

Another nod.

“Speak, then,” said Laela, finally giving up. “Tell me why.”

Ravana put his hands together in front of his chest and bowed low. “I am Ravana,” he said, in fractured Cymrian. “I am
Hm-Waw'ew
.”

“What's that?” said Laela, glancing at Inva.

Ravana followed her gaze, and said something briefly in Amorani.

Inva stepped forward. “He does not speak Cymrian. I will translate.”

Laela gestured at her to continue.

“
Hm-Waw'ew
is a warrior slave,” said Inva. “Trained from birth to do nothing but fight. Slaves from our race were prized as fighters. Their masters would use them for . . . many purposes.”

“I see.” Laela looked at Ravana with renewed interest. “Yer a fighter, then, Ravana.”

Inva translated. Ravana smiled, showing several broken teeth. He spoke rapidly in Amorani, showing a hint of what looked like excitement.

“‘I was a valued
Hm-Waw'ew
,'” said Inva. “‘I have fought many battles against the sand-barbarians and the snake-spears. I have taken many hands.'”

Laela kept her eyes on Ravana and began to be more and more interested in him. A fighter was just what she needed.

Ravana spoke on, and Inva continued to translate. “‘In the beginning, I had no name. But I fought for the right and was rewarded. For my ferocity they named me Ravana, the demon of the flaming sands.'”

Ravana gestured at his scars as he continued.

“‘Every mark you see on me is the last mark of a dead man.'”

Laela thought of her father and the terrible scars he hid under his robe. She shuddered.

“‘When the wars were done, I was sold to a noble in Instabahn,'” Ravana said. “‘I was his guard, and I followed him through night and day, protecting him against his enemies. Now I have been sold again. I see my new Master, and she is most beautiful and most powerful.'”

“I ain— I'm not his master,” Laela interrupted. “Tell him that. He's not a slave now.”

Inva translated, but Ravana only shook his head. “‘You are my Master now, my Queen. I have come here to see you, so that I may offer these hands of mine in your service, as they were meant to be used.'”

“He wants to serve me now, then?” said Laela.

Ravana knelt again. “‘Master. Accept me, and I will guard you as I guarded my master in Instabahn. Make my life your shield. I am yours.'”

Oeka looked up. “A guard for you?”

Laela thought quickly. “Inva, what do yeh think?”

Inva folded her hands. “I have known many
Hm-Waw'ew
in my life. There are no better bodyguards in the world, my Queen.”

Laela got up and confronted Ravana. “So yeh want to protect me, is that it?”

“‘I would be beside you always, protecting your life at any cost,'” Ravana said at once.

Oeka had come down off her platform. She walked around the man, examining him disdainfully. “He is big for a human, but still human. What protection can he provide that I cannot?”

“Extra protection,” said Laela. “The more the better, I say.”

“We shall see,” said Oeka, and sprang straight at her, talons outstretched.

Laela reeled away, but she wasn't quick enough. Oeka's front paws struck her in the head and shoulders, knocking her back against the throne. As Laela struggled to rise, the griffin came at her again, rasping aggressively.

“Oeka, stop it! What are yeh doin'?”

Oeka ignored her, and reared up, batting at her with her paws.

Laela meant to step forward and face her partner down, but in that moment something hit her in the midriff and she found herself being pulled away. “Hey—!”

Ravana ignored her. He pushed her behind him and darted forward—running straight at Oeka. Still up on her hind legs, she leapt. He flung himself at her without an instant's hesitation, ramming his head into her stomach. Once she was off balance, he seized her by the forelegs, where they joined her body—jamming his thumbs into the joints.