King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (22 page)

“Easy there, Dara.” It was Kel.

“You scared me.”

“You were pretty deep in thought,” Kel said. “Didn’t you hear me whisper your name from the shadows like a proper spy?”

“No. Sorry, Kel. I was distracted. You have news?”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you at the festival.” Kel glanced around the rain-smudged square and drew her further into the shadow of the bridge guard’s house. “I followed my liege into the castle last night.”

“Oh, good.” Dara had almost forgotten about Bolden Rollendar with everything else that had happened yesterday.

“He was hanging around the kitchens,” Kel said. “They were pretty busy with all the stuff for the carnival. He didn’t do much, just lurked around for a bit. When one of the cooks questioned him he said he was fetching more salt cakes.”

“There were plenty of salt cakes at the carnival.”

“My thoughts exactly. Any idea why he might have been snooping around the kitchens?”

“Possibly.” Dara was pretty sure Siv’s secret tunnel went through the kitchen. He had been friends with the young Rollendar lord in his youth. There was a decent chance Bolden knew about the tunnel. Maybe he had been checking to see if it was still there. “Thank you, Kel. That’s really helpful.”

“No worries,” Kel said. He brushed at the rain droplets on his cloak. “This better be worth missing out on all the fun with the Guard.”

“I’m sorry.” Dara squeezed her friend’s shoulder. “I wish you could join us. If it’s any consolation, I make the Guard run laps a lot.”

“Maybe I’m better off playing the spy, then. You’re probably worse than Berg.”

Dara grinned. “You might be right.”

“I hope the king is prepared to give me a whole lot of public recognition if I end up helping to foil a coup.” Kel pulled his hood back over his head. “I never want to have to buy my own drinks again.”

“I’ll be sure to mention it,” Dara said. “But remember, he doesn’t know you’re doing this yet. This is just between you and me.”

“I know.”

“And be careful,” Dara said.

“Always am.”

Dara nodded and started to leave, then she stopped as another thought occurred to her. “Kel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know who makes Bolden and Lord Von’s coats, specifically the ones with Firegold embroidery?”

“Corren, I think. I bumped into him at the greathouse a few weeks ago.”

“Thanks, Kel. I owe you.”

“Sure thing.” Kel winked and disappeared into the drizzle.

Dara began the long walk back up to the castle through King’s Peak. She had a lot to tell Siv. They might finally be getting somewhere. If her father had decided to work with the Rollendars, stopping him could be straightforward. They could cut off the “resources” Corren was gathering rather than attacking him directly. Dara would feel much better about moving against Von and Bolden Rollendar than against her father. Maybe she could counter his efforts without ever having to confront him.

Dara felt more optimistic the closer she got to the castle. Some of the sadness that had clutched at her during her visit with her parents began to ease as she approached the warm lights of the castle. She always felt wanted here. She felt as if she was part of something. And Siv was here. She wanted to be in the same room with him, work with him on strengthening his position and foiling the plots against him. They were a good team. Unlike her parents, Siv believed in her, valued her, wouldn’t let her down.

Maybe she shouldn’t kiss him, but she could go tell him what she had learned about the Rollendars. It was excuse enough for them to be in the same room. And if she happened to hold his hand for a minute or two, feel his skin against hers, what was so wrong with that?

Dara strode into the castle entrance hall and shook the rain from her coat. A basket of Everlights and a bundle of colorful awning cloth sat by the door, remnants of yesterday’s carnival. The usual hustle and bustle had returned to the castle now that everyone had spent the day recovering from the festivities. Princess Selivia was passing through the entrance hall, chattering with her handmaid. She spotted Dara and darted up to her, eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh, Dara, did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Lady Tull is here. She has accepted my brother’s proposal. They’re going to be married!”

20.

Farewell

THE
kingdom couldn’t be more delighted by the news of the royal engagement. The markets and taverns were already buzzing with talk of the carnival. Adding the prospect of a royal wedding on top of it was sure to keep the gossips of the mountain busy all winter long.

The people loved that Lady Tull’s tragic story would have a happy ending. They loved that she was beautiful. And her allies loved that she was going to be the queen. Where they had been hesitant to throw their weight behind Siv before, they now supported him enthusiastically.

He received a steady stream of noble visitors and invitations to dine and drink, view orchards, and admire livestock. He might as well fire the castle cooks because it looked as if he’d never have to eat at home again. He took advantage of the opportunity to assure the nobility of a prosperous and peaceful future under his kingship. Tull accompanied him on many of these excursions. She was a smart woman, and she did her part to charm the nobles. Siv almost felt as if they’d rather have her in charge than him.

He was surprised his performance at the carnival had been enough to prompt her to accept him. He’d expected her to keep him and Bolden waiting for weeks or months longer. He’d been stunned when she turned up at the castle to say she wished to marry him, so stunned that he’d nodded dumbly and said, “Sounds good. Let’s do that, then.”

She had shaken his hand and kissed his cheek, and suddenly the whole castle knew about it. It left Siv feeling winded, defeated, and kind of miserable.

The wedding wouldn’t take place until spring. They needed to invite dignitaries from lands near and far, and Vertigon wasn’t the easiest place to visit in winter. Besides, Princess Selivia had warned her brother that she would personally murder him if he dared have the royal wedding while she was away in Trure.

The queen delayed their departure for a few days amidst the excitement, but a sudden cold snap reminded her that First Snow would arrive all too soon. So she packed up the youngest princess and prepared to leave the mountain.

Siv, Sora, and Tull accompanied them to the road into the Fissure to give them a proper send-off. He decided it was a good time to take his growing cur-dragon out for a stroll. Rumy was now bigger than his mother, though his muscles hadn’t thickened fully and his scales were still a bit soft. He nearly reached Siv’s waist when standing on all fours, and he might end up being larger yet.

Siv guided him in a harness as he escorted his mother and sister down through King’s Peak. Rumy tugged at the lead, sometimes leaping into the air and flapping his wings for a few paces before falling back to the ground. He also enjoyed snapping at the heels of the tough little ponies that would carry Tirra and Selivia’s luggage down the mountain, making the animals snort and shuffle nervously. Siv had to pay close attention to keep the little guy from flying away or accidentally setting someone on fire.

The queen, the princess, and their guards and handmaids would spend a few days traveling the steep road down the Fissure on foot. It wound back and forth along the sheer canyon wall, far too precarious for most people to feel comfortable riding down it. When they reached the bottom, horses sent by Siv’s grandfather would be waiting to take them the rest of the way to Trure. For a brief moment, he almost wished he could go with them. That was a first. Siv hated visiting Trure.

The top of the road into the Fissure led through Ferrington-Denmore land, so there had been no way for Siv to avoid inviting his betrothed along. Tull was the perfect lady, as always. She dressed demurely and assured the queen that she would look out for her son. They all knew this was a purely political marriage, but the two played their parts well. Workers from the Ferrington-Denmore Estate gathered to watch them, thrilled to see the lady in her capacity as the future royal consort.

Between them and the onlookers stood the Guard. The duelists had embraced their role enthusiastically, and they now operated like a well-maintained Fire Gate. They formed a loose circle around the king and his party, allowing an appropriate amount of space for their farewell. Siv gave Rumy’s lead to Oat while he hugged his mother and sister. Dara was among the guards escorting them today, but she stood facing the steep path into the Fissure, one hand on her Savven blade, and didn’t look at him at all.

“Send word when you reach the palace,” Siv said. “And watch out for burrlinbats in the Fissure.”

“Those don’t exist,” Selivia said.

“Do too. I’ve seen them myself.”

Selivia stuck her tongue out at him then seemed to realize it wasn’t quite appropriate for a princess who was nearly fourteen years old. She blushed and said, “Don’t do anything too fun without me.”

“I intend to hold a feast in the Great Hall every night you are away,” Siv said. “We will all be far too tired of parties to have any more when you get back.”

Selivia made a face then hugged him around the waist. When she pulled away there were tears in her eyes.

“You’ll be fine, Sel,” Siv said. “You won’t be gone long.”

“I know.” She sniffed and turned to say good-bye to Sora, who was busily adding to the list of all the Truren nobility she had asked Selivia to visit while she was in the Lands Below.

Selivia may be crying, but their mother looked as happy as she always did when she left for Trure. She adjusted her long velvet traveling cloak and reached out to squeeze Siv’s hand.

“Stay warm this winter,” she said. Then with a glance over at Dara, who still had her back to them, she pulled him close for a quick hug. “And be wary of the Lantern Maker.”

“Have a safe journey.”

The queen smiled, looking positively cheerful as she headed toward the steps leading down the mountainside. Zala, Selivia’s handmaid, followed close on her heels, no doubt happy to be returning to her homeland. Fenn Hurling took leave of her twin brother, Denn, looking as stoic as ever. Selivia commenced another round of hugs, beginning to look a bit more excited about the journey.

For his part, Siv was burning miserable. He hadn’t spoken to Dara in private since the engagement. He had wanted to tell her about it in person, but word traveled too quickly. By the time he saw her, she had adopted a professional demeanor that hadn’t slipped once since. He still hadn’t asked her about what had occurred between their fathers on the day of the Vertigon Cup. They needed to have that conversation, but it would surely be like pouring salt in a wound.
Here, Dara, let me kiss you. By the way, I’m getting married. Oh, and do you think your father is a murderer? Thanks so much for the chat.

He hadn’t yet gotten up the nerve to have that particular talk. Dara had been busy anyway. He learned from some subtle questioning of the other guards that she often left the castle when she wasn’t on duty or in training. No one knew where she went. She might be spending even more time with her parents. The possibility left him feeling hollow.

Siv took Rumy’s lead back from Oat as his mother and sister and their guards and servants began the trek down the mountain. Selivia kept turning back to wave, her still-dyed hair floating over her shoulders like autumn leaves, until she disappeared from view.

“I will return to my estate now, Your Highness,” Tull said.

“Very well, my lady,” Siv offered her as much of a bow as he could manage as Rumy picked that moment to lunge against his lead. He was a strong little guy, and Siv had to use both hands to keep him from soaring out over the Fissure.

Lady Tull took three mincing steps backwards. “Shall I come to the castle tomorrow to discuss preparations for our engagement feast?”

“Sure,” Siv said. “Please do.”

When Lady Tull took her leave, the onlookers who had gathered to watch the queen’s departure dispersed. Within a few minutes, Siv, Sora, and the Guard were the only ones left on the road overlooking the Fissure. A wind picked up, howling through the canyon. The queen and the princess would have a cold journey ahead of them.

“Do you wish to return to the castle, Your Majesty?” Dara asked, finally turning to face him. She sounded so formal that she might as well be Pool.

“Yes, sure,” Siv said. “You have anything you need to do while we’re out, Sora?”

Sora shook her head. She was staring after Lady Tull and her retinue as they made their way toward her greathouse, visible through a line of apple trees.

“What’s on your mind?” Siv asked his sister as they started back toward the castle.

“Lady Tull,” she said. “Isn’t it odd?”

“What?”

“How quickly she accepted your proposal?”

“Um, she took weeks to answer.”

“Yes, but there was an obvious strategy behind that,” Sora said. “She was waiting to see whether you could stand up to the Rollendars.”

“And?”

“You didn’t,” Sora said, her round face pensive. “Not really. You made a good start of getting people to like you, but none of the key players had actually thrown their support behind you when she said yes.”

“She’s a smart woman. I’m sure she had her reasons for thinking I’m a good catch,” Siv said wryly. He noticed that Dara had fallen into formation on her other side. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and her blue uniform was crisp and pressed. He couldn’t quite catch her eye.

“I know she’s smart. That’s what I mean,” Sora said. “It doesn’t make sense. What do you think, Dara?”

“The engagement did come out of the blue,” Dara said curtly.

Siv was so surprised at her tone that he stopped short and stared at her. The Guards slowed as well, but they didn’t crowd too close, giving them space to talk.

Dara seemed to realize what she had said, for she cleared her throat, her cheeks going pink.

“I mean, of course it was in the works, but she didn’t look like she was on the verge of accepting your proposal at the carnival. If she was that impressed, why wait until the next day? You could have been engaged before you returned to your rooms that evening.” Then Dara skewered Siv with such a sharp look that he was surprised he wasn’t bleeding. “Your Highness.”