Wrath Games (22 page)

“The queen is sixteen, Neeko. That was her.”

“Sixteen?” I said louder than I meant, turning a few heads. “How old is Quince?” I asked more quietly.

“Twenty-six.”

I gawked.

“It’s not that strange,” Shara said.

“It certainly seems strange.”

“Why?”

“If she was twenty-six and he was thirty-six, it wouldn’t stand out so much. But she’s sixteen. Ten years is more than half her life.”

“There are women made queen at fourteen. Sometimes their king is older than thirty. King Raemiar’s wife passed when he was in his sixties. His next queen was fourteen.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Aye.”

I picked up on something she’d said. “He’s still ‘her king’ to the queen? Not her husband?”

“His majesty is to be addressed as the king by everyone in his kingdom, including his wife and children.”

“If I was ever king, my name would do just fine.”

“Then you’d be looked upon as weak. Quince might not care to hear respectful terms like sire a thousand times a day, but he can’t allow people to speak to him in any other way. He’s not our friend. The king can’t have friends.”

“Well, he can at least treat his wife more like his wife.”

Shara glanced about before lowering her voice. “Remember when you asked me what caused this war and I said there were other factors besides the sacrifices, some being rumors?”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

She smirked. “I challenge that.”

“Ask me something.”

“Did I house a soldier the night of the attack?”

“Yes.”

She pursed her lips. “That was a guess.”

“Ask another, then.”

“What was my reasoning for requesting that you don’t start your replies with my name?”

“Because it feels like I’m about to lecture you, just as one of your fathers did when he needed something.” I showed her a taunting smile. “Give me something difficult.”

“I remember everything you tell me!” she retorted.

“Of course, because you remember everything anyway. So that’s it, then? You believe me?”

“No. I just haven’t thought of the right question.” She took a bite, lifting her finger on her free hand. “Anyway, one of the rumors relating to war has to do with…” She swallowed, looking around for eavesdroppers. Cupping her hands around my ear, she whispered, “Queen Eona.”

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “If the wrong person overheard,” she whispered, “I’d be gone in an instant.” Her eyes lit up. “But there’s a book I asked Laney to bring me from the library that you can read. Speaking of, do you know how happy you’ve made me now that Storell allows us in the library?”

“Ecstatic?” I guessed.

She gritted her teeth in a wide grin, shaking her fists. “Ecstatic!”

“Exactly how I’ll be after Swenn’s trial. They would hang even the master of coin for murder, right?”

She gestured for me to keep my voice lowered. “They would, but I’m not sure he wasn’t telling us the truth.”

“Shara, you can’t believe him.”

“Why would he lie?” Her tone, strong and sincere, showed she’d been considering this more than she should. “He has nothing to gain from lying to us.”

“I’m sure he has a reason.”

“Then what could it be?”

“It must be related to what he has planned for the trial.”

“There’s far more reason for him to tell the truth than to lie. He wants to end this rivalry! He told us the truth, Neeko. I know it’s hard to believe, but you should…and let this end.”

I tried to consider it, but just the idea of believing Swenn made me sick to my stomach. It was like eating dirt, going against all sense of reason and instinct. I couldn’t do it. I felt myself standing up and walking away from Shara before I could even think of an excuse. My hand spoke for me as I held out my palm to her surprised countenance.

The man killed my mother for money, yet claimed her death occurred from self-defense. Shara was asking me to believe my mother would try to kill him? She was supposed to be smart.

“You’re just going to walk away?”

Many responses came to mind, but I thought better than to say any of them to her. I knew I still cared about Shara in the same way. I just couldn’t feel it beneath my anger in that moment.

“Do you need help getting up the stairs?” I managed to stop and ask, though my tone was aggressive.

She bit her lip and nodded at me, a look of fright and sadness in her eyes. I helped her from her seat without a word.

“Why are you so angry about this?” she asked as we started toward the stairs. “Is it because you know I’m right and you don’t want to admit it?”

My rage burned hotter.

Except for the restrained groans of pain Shara couldn’t help but let out every few steps, we ascended in silence. The second floor couldn’t come soon enough. I let go of her the moment we got there.

“Can you make it to the medical room on your own?”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“Can you make it on your own?” I repeated loudly.

“I can,” she murmured.

I turned but she grabbed my hand. The crowded hall was no place for this, with people glancing at us as they passed.

She quickly let go as she noticed them looking, and I left.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

After finding the right person to ask, I learned Jaymes was meeting with Quince.
So the king must’ve finished speaking with Terren.
When he was done with Jaymes, I would be summoned and a haranguing was the best I could hope for.

Too angry with Shara to focus on training, I went to the library and asked Storell if I could borrow a book that would teach me more about the kings, Quince and Marteph.

Excitement filled his eyes for a moment until a scowl pushed it away. “Is the book for you or someone else?”

“For me, sir. I’ve been meaning to read more but haven’t had the time.”

His excitement came back, a slight smile to match. “Herall Danmaw wrote a vivid account of the lives of King Quince and King Marteph. He took only the facts from history. King Quince himself has read it, verifying its validity.

“Isn’t Herall Danmaw a poet?”

“He writes everything, a prolific genius the man is.”

Shara would have something to say about that. “Is there another author who’s written about the kings?”

“Many.” His smile disappeared. “However, while their books have verisimilitude, I don’t trust them. Your one-armed pyforial friend borrowed one by Gally Fwar, a filthy book full of gossip and tawdry lies. I tried to tell her not to fill her mind with such things, but she came only for this book and no other. It’s possibly the worst of any about the two ruling kings.”

He brought me to a specific aisle. “Take Danmaw’s book. The language is beautiful and it’s all true.”

With the heavy book in my hands, I couldn’t possibly give it back to him without great insult. So I thanked him and left, hoping Shara had exaggerated her disdain for Herall Danmaw.

I figured the book Laney came to get was actually for Shara. I could feel my anger at her shifting toward disappointment. I couldn’t speak to her while she believed Swenn had been truthful throughout his confessions.

I retired to my room with Danmaw’s book. I sat at the table and tried to ignore that it was only a matter of time before I’d be summoned by Jaymes or Quince to be scolded.

I read for an hour, the rain still beating against the walls, thunder booming once so loud it startled me into dropping the book. Danmaw wrote as if he wanted to prove he was the smartest man in Sumar. Every page contained at least one word I’d never seen before. He threw in parenthetical lines to demonstrate his own thoughts, referring to everything else he’d written as if it was fact. I, unfortunately, didn’t know enough history about the kings to refute anything. It was written that Quince met Danmaw when the king was still a boy and Danmaw had predicted then that Quince would change the world. I rolled my eyes.

A few of my bandages needed changing. When I was done, I noticed a book by my door with a note on top. Someone had slid it under, the storm too loud for me to have heard, perhaps even if they’d knocked.

A long title was written across the top half of the book:
The Queens of Marteph Mallen and Quince Barryn: The Women Behind the Rivalry.
The author’s name was listed at the bottom: Gally Fwar.

I unfolded the note.

I understand what I said. I claimed he told the truth, though his confessions were a thread, going back to the incident of your youth. I didn’t mean to imply, that Faye threatened his life. My words went awry, and now we’re at strife. I only meant that his squire, could’ve made the situation dire. He could’ve attacked Swenn with ire, no longer ready to conspire. This could be true, and Swenn would escape the noose. That’s all I meant to construe, nothing more I wanted to deduce. The rest might all be lies, certainly what he implied about Faye. Can we once again be allies? It hurts to stay this way.

I felt myself smiling.
So she only believes Swenn’s lies about his squire.
It was still disappointing that she believed him at all when he’d clearly lied, but the truth would come out during the trial.

I opened the book she’d delivered with her note, planning just to take a glance before visiting her in the medical room. But the moment I got through the first line, I couldn’t take my eyes away. It read:
Quince Barryn (the king of the North) and Marteph Mallen’s wife (the queen of the South) are in love.

I could hear my thoughts screaming that this couldn’t be true, but the words on the page were too shocking to ignore, like watching a carriage accident unfolding.

Wendi Mallen, who was Wendi Trycha before marrying the king of the South, has been teased as having the mind of a Northerner. However, this nickname is actually a cheap insult because everyone who uses it knows that Wendi Trycha truly was born in the North. They also know that Wendi’s father worked for Quince Barryn’s father, giving him counsel regarding faith, but only until an
irreconcilable disagreement sent Wendi’s father south to work for King Marteph, where the two men share the same ideals of faith.

What these Southerners (and most Northerners) don’t know is that Wendi and Quince were to be wed until this incident. Wendi’s father took measures to keep this information esoteric, which turned out to be an easy task, for Quince’s family wanted no one to know of his relations with another king’s wife.

I managed to finally stop reading.

“What?” I muttered.

For once, I wouldn’t have minded Henry breathing over me. His opinion, as someone who’d been involved in the castle, would be valuable.

I didn’t want to keep Shara waiting any longer, knowing she was eager for me to forgive her.

She and Laney were playing some sort of game when I entered the medical room, the two young women grinning as they wrote on parchments that they passed back and forth, each sitting cross-legged on Shara’s bed. Swenn was asleep or at least seemed to be.

Aside from her missing limb, Laney had become unrecognizable compared to the way she looked on her first day in the castle. Her skin now had a healthy glow. Her eyes no longer shrunk in trepidation. She was still thin as a stick, but she didn’t appear nearly as frail.

Shara’s face brightened when she saw me watching from the doorway, the beauty of her dark eyes stunning my heart. She stood and murmured something to Laney, who jumped up and threw her arm around Shara’s neck, pressing herself close.

“I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun,” Laney said. “Can we play again tomorrow?”

“If there’s time. Remember, the trial’s tomorrow.”

“Ohhh,” she whispered, glancing wide-eyed at Swenn.

Shara came and joined me in the hall.

“I received your—”

“I’m so sorry, Neeko.” She took my arm.

“Of course I forgive you,” I told her. “Is there somewhere we can speak?”

“On the way to my room. Mayla has allowed me to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

“Your wounds must be healing nicely, then.”

“About as nicely as they could, I presume.”

“May I see?”

“Nay, they’re hideous. The scars are going to stay with me forever.” Suddenly her eyes went wide. “Promise me you won’t ever call me Scar-a!”

That stole a laugh from me. “How can I not now?”

“You just keep that mouth shut, that’s how.” She pinched my lips and didn’t let go. Amused by the face it caused me to make, her mouth crept up in a smile.

I tried to speak but it just came out as a silly sound. She laughed but cut it short as she grabbed her side and hissed in pain. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.

I put my arm around her back and she eased into me. The evening rush in the castle was over, but that didn’t mean the halls were empty. I forced myself to step aside. “The king’s rules,” I muttered.

“I understand.”

“Do you truly believe Quince could be in love with Marteph’s wife?”

She wore a twisted smile like she was entertained yet insulted at the same time. “You started reading that book before coming to me? You must know I felt terrible!”

“I just read the first page.”

“Laney kept me busy, so I suppose I can’t stay mad. Yes, I do believe it. They were in love before Wendi’s father moved his family to the South and began to work for King Marteph. Fwar writes about both kings and queens meticulously as the book goes on. Quince and Marteph weren’t always enemies. They’ve met several times to discuss trades and other business, and Quince has been seen speaking with Wendi alone. Even if they thought they were being furtive, people noticed. They haven’t carried on an affair, but they certainly never lost feelings for each other.”

“Have you read the entire book?”

“And others.”

“What do you know about our current queen, Eona?”

“She’s from a powerful family. Rumors say she and Quince have had trouble conceiving, but some believe they aren’t even trying. It’s known by all that they aren’t in love.”

“How can it be known by all?”

“Because they’re royalty. There isn’t much they can hide.”