Dark Lady's Chosen (39 page)

“Wouldn’t they consider her just as guilty of betraying the Blood?”

Gabriel shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. She was bloodsworn against Uri’s brood, but she herself never battled either mortals or
vayash moru
. Depending on how this goes, there may be repercussions against those in her brood who fought alongside us. By logic, the Council can’t rule for our destruction without condemning more than half of the
vayash
moru
in Principality. And they should have no hold over you at all. This is an internal matter.”

Jonmarc could hear the pain in Gabriel’s voice. He’d never seen Gabriel vulnerable before, and it made him more uneasy than he cared to admit. Jonmarc assessed his own injuries from practice born of far too many fights. The wound at his throat was healed. With a healer’s help, he’d be back to fighting strength in just a day or two. On his own, it might take several weeks. He

remembered times when he’d felt like Gabriel looked, and how long and painful the recovery had been.

It was close enough to dawn when they arrived that Jonmarc guessed their trial would wait until sundown. As the candlemarks passed without anyone coming for them, his surmise appeared to be correct. Both he and Gabriel dozed. Having one of them sit sentry when they were captives in a locked room seemed pointless.

After a long time, Jonmarc heard a key move in the lock and he tensed as the door swung open. “The Council demands your presence,” a guard announced.

Gabriel refused the guard’s offer to help him to his feet, baring his long eye teeth in warning.

Jonmarc managed to stand on his own, although he couldn’t hide a limp. Under armed escort, they made their way into a paneled library that was as cold as the winter night outside. The huge fireplace was dark and empty, and the room was lit by a massive central chandelier. A space had been cleared in the center of the room facing a long heavy wooden table. Seated behind the table were Rafe, Astasia and Uri.

Rafe rose to read the charges against them. “Gabriel, Lord of Wolvenskorn. You are charged with betraying the Blood and violating the Truce. You have made war against our own kind, enabled mortals to burn day crypts, and incited the
vyrkin
against
vayash moru
.

How do you plead?”

Jonmarc had never seen the anger that burned in Gabriel’s eyes. “One hundred percent guilty—and you know why I did it.” His voice was scathing. “Talk to Uri about violating the Truce. I sought to finish what Malesh started before he brought the king’s wrath and the vengeance of every mortal in Principality down on us.”

“You understand that the penalty for betrayal is destruction.”

“So is the penalty for cowardice,” Gabriel snapped. “You saw what Malesh was doing, and you and Astasia chose to do nothing. How many villages did you think he could destroy before the mortals came to burn us all? It’s already started. And while you’re here making a mockery of what’s left of the Council, you’ve imprisoned the only man who has a chance of stopping the mortals,” he said with a glance toward Jonmarc.

Rafe turned toward Jonmarc. “Jonmarc Vahanian, Lord of Dark Haven. You are charged with—”

“Destroying the murdering bastard who killed my wife and annihilated three mortal villages,”

Jonmarc interrupted. “And no, I’m not sorry.”

“You swore an oath to protect the residents of Dark Haven,” Rafe countered.

“
All
the residents—mortal and undead,” Jonmarc countered. “How long did you think Malesh could go on before Staden decided to ride in here with an army and put an end to it?

Malesh broke the Truce. Once Malesh started slaughtering villagers, that oath gave me no choice. But the Truce went both ways. When Malesh decided that mortals were fair game, the
vayash moru
lost their protection, too. Don’t tell me about ‘betraying Blood.’ I cut down six mortals who were hunting
vyrkin
. And assuming I live through tonight, I’ll stand between the mortals and the
vayash moru
to protect your kind, just as I fought them to protect my own.”

“If the Council finds you guilty, the penalty is destruction,” Rafe replied.

“You have no jurisdiction over him.” Gabriel stepped forward, and Jonmarc could only guess how much willpower it was taking him to move as though he weren’t in pain. “The Lord of Dark Haven’s authority comes from King Staden, not from the Blood Council.” He fixed Rafe with a lethal glare. “And to strike the king’s liegeman is to declare war against the king himself.”

“We do, however, have jurisdiction over our own.” Astasia’s voice was like ice. Jonmarc had no idea what prompted the hatred he saw in her eyes. Beside her, Uri appeared to be watching the proceedings with amusement.

“In other words, you’re not going to be satisfied unless someone bleeds,” Jonmarc said, feeling his temper rise. “Fine. If you need blood, take mine. Everything Gabriel did was to protect me. He believed he was fulfilling a vow to the Dark Lady. I burned the day crypts. I led the attack at the Caliggan Crossroads, and I led the mortals against the
vayash moru
at Mead’s Ferry. I destroyed Malesh at Istra’s Temple. You want a blood sacrifice? Here I am.”

“You would die to protect one of the Blood?”

Jonmarc strained for control. “What part of this whole discussion didn’t you get? Malesh put the lot of you in danger. Do you really think the
vayash moru
can stand against the armies of the king and the mobs of villagers if it comes to that? Riqua knew better. She remembers the burnings before the Truce. Malesh had to be stopped. Either Gabriel and I stopped him, while this was still a ‘family matter,’ or there’d be no ending the vengeance until every
vayash moru
in Principality went down in flames.”

“Will you raise your hand against the Dark Lady’s chosen?” Gabriel’s voice cut through the conversation like a cold knife. “Look at the brand of the Dark Lady and the wound that healed on

his throat. Malesh desecrated Istra’s temple to become the consort of Shanthadura. He started the war not to make our kind ascendant, but to make himself a god. To do that, he had to challenge and defeat the Dark Lady’s champion. He failed. But when Vigulf, the
vyrkin
shaman, healed Jonmarc, we both sensed Istra’s presence in the temple.” Gabriel looked at Jonmarc. “He hasn’t spoken of this to me. But I’m certain that She appeared to him.”

“Is this true?” Rafe’s voice had lost some of its edge as an inquisitor, and Jonmarc recalled that Rafe was once a scholar.

“It’s true.”

“We have nothing but their word for it,” Astasia protested. “Men will say anything to avoid destruction.”

Rafe glared at Astasia to silence her. “Are there any other questions for the accused?”

Uri leaned forward. “I wish to know exactly how Malesh died.”

Jonmarc met Uri’s dark eyes. “I put a quarrel through his heart when he sank his teeth into my neck. He fell backward into the candles and burned.”

“Yet you live.”

“Not by choice.”

Uri seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Why didn’t you burn me, when you found me in the day crypt? Lady knows, we’re hardly friends.”

“Because as much as I would have enjoyed it, you didn’t lead the revolt. Malesh did. And while your bluster gave him the words to recruit his helpers, you promised Riqua and Gabriel that you’d try to stop him. It kills me to admit it, but you kept your word. I’ve never killed someone who couldn’t fight back. Not even you.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “If there are no other questions, it is time for a vote. Both of the accused freely admit their guilt. Shall the Council rule for their destruction?”

Jonmarc found that anger overrode fear. Gabriel’s eyes gave no clue to his thoughts. The next few moments seemed to last forever.

Finally, Rafe spoke. “No.”

Astasia looked up with fury in her eyes. “Yes.”

They turned toward Uri, who seemed to relish the suspense. “My answer is… no.” He met Jonmarc’s eyes. “Don’t mistake me. I still don’t like you, nor do I like having a mortal lord at Dark Haven. But Malesh was my mistake. He got badly out of hand. And unlike Astasia, I am old

enough to recall the burnings. I have no wish to see those days return.”

Rafe stood. “The Council has ruled.” He looked to Jonmarc. “Lord Vahanian. I would not recommend that you ride alone in your condition by night. You are welcome to spend the night and leave in the morning.” As if he expected a retort, he raised a hand to forestall a reply. “I will personally guarantee your safety. In the morning, you’ll find a horse and provisions for the ride. Your weapons will be returned to you.” He met Jonmarc’s eyes. “We will honor the Truce.”

Jonmarc regarded him warily. “And Gabriel?”

Rafe nodded. “Lord Gabriel returns to his position on the Blood Council and to his manor at Wolvenskorn without prejudice. Whether he returns to Dark Haven is up to him.”

Gabriel gave Jonmarc a reassuring nod. “I’ll see you in Dark Haven once I settle a few things at Wolvenskorn.” He glanced toward the Council. “And I’ll make sure you have better accommodations here,” he said in a tone that warned Astasia that he expected her to comply. Gabriel gave a curt bow toward the others. “Until later.”

Jonmarc did not speak until they were alone in one of the upstairs rooms. “That’s it? They haul us in here trussed up like thieves, put a stake through your heart, threaten to burn you and kill me, and then it’s over with nothing more than a ‘by your leave’?”

To his surprise, Gabriel chuckled. “After several hundred years, sometimes the form matters more than the function. They feel they’ve been heard. Rules have been observed. Order is restored. Astasia had her say, Rafe can feel that he’s satisfied the regulations and Uri got to be magnanimous. And we remain.”

They fell silent. “Thank you,” Jonmarc said finally.

Gabriel shrugged. “Likewise. You didn’t have to defend me to the Council. It was a rather foolhardy thing to do, given the circumstances.”

Jonmarc shrugged. “I owe you.”

Gabriel met his eyes. “I don’t know what you saw, there in the temple. But in all the years I’ve existed, I have only believed one other person to be the Dark Lady’s chosen.”

“Who was that?”

“Bava K’aa, Tris’s grandmother.”

“I didn’t want this.”

“I know.”

Jonmarc turned away and felt the room begin to reel. Gabriel caught him before he fell and helped him to a chair. “I’ll make sure someone brings you food. And while there’s no healer here, I can probably find something for the pain.” Jonmarc nodded, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes as Gabriel slipped from the room.

Every time I turn around, there’s someone new in line to kill me. Just like old times. And as
soon as Donelan finds out what happened to Carina, he’ll make good on his threat. He’ll
send the bounty hunters after me with a price so high even Gabriel won’t be able to protect
me if I set foot outside the manor house. So much for being anyone’s champion.
Before long, a servant delivered a meal of hard sausage, cheese and bread, along with a bottle of dark Trevath whiskey. Jonmarc ate his fill, finishing off half of the whiskey until he could no longer feel his battle wounds. But even the whiskey could not dull the dread he felt over returning to Dark Haven, and despite the strong drink, his dreams were troubled.

By the tolling of the bells in the courtyard, Carina knew it was the sixth hour of the morning.

Still sore and weary from her encounter with the Flow, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the heavy draperies that completely obscured her windows. Holding her breath, she drew them back and waited for the faint rays of dawn to burn her skin. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. A slash of red and orange lit the eastern sky along the horizon as heavy gray clouds obscured the moon, but the cold, pale light did not burn. It was true. She was fully mortal once more.

Heedless of the hunger that gnawed in her stomach, Carina slipped into a shift and her healer’s robes. She knew that Neirin would already be at his desk. She made her way through Dark Haven’s upper corridors without meeting anyone, and stopped at the door to Neirin’s office. Steeling herself, she knocked. At Neirin’s response, she opened the door.

Neirin looked up. He registered first shock and then genuine relief. “M’lady. It’s good to see you about once more in the light of day. I’m so glad the healing was successful.”

Carina nodded, and Neirin sobered. “I fear that you did not come to catch up on news.”

“We need to send guards to Istra’s temple in the hills,” Carina said. “I saw a vision in the Flow that I believe was a true sending. There may be no survivors. But we owe the dead the honor of a proper burial.”

“The mob begins forming at the front gates once it’s fully light, and it won’t leave until the sun begins to set,” he said. “I can slip two men out if we move quickly. Getting them back in may be more of a challenge. It will take them most of the day to journey there and back again, but if they leave within the candlemark, they should be able to return before sundown if they ride hard.”

“Thank you.” Carina paused. “In Isencroft, it’s the custom to fly a gray flag of mourning when there are deaths within a household. Is such a thing done in Dark Haven?”

Neirin nodded. “Yes, m’lady. I’ll take care of it this morning. We’ve not done so at Dark Haven for ten years, not since the last lord died.”

Carina drew a deep breath. “Thank you.” She met his eyes. “How does Dark Haven mourn its dead?”

Neirin gestured her toward a chair and drew a pot of hot water from the coals in the small fireplace that warmed his office. He poured her a cup of tea, which she accepted gratefully.

“The custom is the same whether it’s a mortal who dies or a
vayash moru
who is destroyed.

There are eight days of mourning, one for each Aspect. The first four days honor the Dark Aspects. Those who mourn fast from dawn to dusk, and eat an evening meal of cold food without seasoning. No music is played. The mourners light candles and make offerings to the Lady for the safe passage of the souls of the dead. A hedge witch preserves the body so that all may pay respects.