Royal Exile (29 page)

‘No, I know Piven can’t form a friendship really, but unlike us he’s not scared of Vyk. He recognises him. It’s something, isn’t it? A bond?’

Gavriel didn’t know what to say. He exhaled, blowing out his cheeks. ‘I suppose both of them are silent and damned creatures. Perhaps that binds them in some strange way.’

Leo’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s right! Perhaps Vyk comforts Piven somehow — in a way we don’t understand. He certainly amuses him.’

‘Everything amuses Piven,’ Gavriel muttered, not unkindly.

‘We can’t kill the bird. Let’s just go.’

‘But why did it follow us all this way?’

‘I don’t know … food perhaps?’

‘It eats flesh, Leo, not stale bread and mouldy cheese.’

‘I have no idea why it’s here! But I don’t want you to kill it. Let’s just go.’ Leo got up, brushing the leaves from his backside.

Gavriel stood. He jutted his chin out. ‘That way, come on.’

They trudged off, Leo behind Gavriel. The king looked over his shoulder. ‘It’s coming with us.’

‘Well, I hope he likes a long walk on those very short legs,’ Gavriel said uncharitably, refusing to look at their new companion.

Valya had not been invited into Loethar’s personal rooms before. She had been told to await his arrival and, secretly pleased that Loethar was not tapping his feet impatiently for her, took the time to calm herself and to take in her surrounds.

It was a beautiful chamber with a series of large double doors opening onto various balconies through which she could view the sea. She realised it had a similar outlook to that of Iselda’s former rooms but this was more remote, tucked away in a corner of the castle and not on such a high level as Iselda’s apartments.

The room had definitely belonged to a man. A man with good taste, it seemed, from the sparse but finely made furniture. She made a soft clucking sound with her tongue. Weaven timber was scarce — there was almost none left in the Set. Whoever owned these rooms must have travelled into Skardlag to buy the raw wood. Her father had craved anything made of the honey coloured timber shot through with golden striata. He owned only one small piece — a bowl — but he’d treasured it as though it were wrought from solid gold. She’d never understood his fascination, although she could appreciate its beauty now that she looked at the larger, more solid pieces which seemed to possess an internal glow.

Apart from the furniture there was little drapery in the main room. There was, however, a beautiful bronze sculpture of a horse and various paintings hanging around the walls. Again the artworks were few, like the furniture, but they were of similar exceptional quality, the likes of which she hadn’t seen in many years, since leaving the Set in fact. She looked toward what must be the bedchamber, wondering if any more fine pieces were behind that door.

Her musings were interrupted by that very door opening.

Valya gasped. ‘Why?’

‘Always hated it,’ Loethar replied, rubbing his now clean-shaven face.

‘I’ve never seen you without your beard. I hope you don’t mind my mentioning how much younger its loss makes you?’ He gave an awkward twitch of a smile as he approached, moving toward the tray of wine and glasses that had been set up. Valya was privately amazed. Gone was that unruly mask he had obviously hidden behind, banished were the strange piercings that had once borne rings and jewels. Before her stood a handsome man, his dark features much easier to see, now that he’d washed and combed his hair into a neat pigtail. The fresh garments he wore — he must have found them in these chambers — accentuated his lean limbs and broad shoulders, making him appear even taller than he was. ‘You were never one of them,’ she said, drinking in all the detail as her gaze roved over this new Loethar. She could smell the scent of soap, the fragrance of herbs that had aired the clothes he now wore.

‘Why do you say that?’ he asked, and sounded genuinely interested, his dark eyes sparkling.

‘Pour me a wine, and I shall tell you.’

He smiled and she felt her heart leap. Perhaps the strange detachment he’d been suffering of late had disappeared with the unkempt beard. That smile was what she loved most about him; it was hard to win, and all the more precious because he gave it so reluctantly.

‘To you, my lady,’ he said, arriving to stand before her, hair wet, eyes shining with what she suspected was some special knowledge. He held out an elegant pewter goblet. ‘It is very good.’

She took the goblet, ensuring her fingers touched his hand — just lightly enough to send a message of affection. ‘Thank you. This is an unexpected treat — and I don’t mean the wine.’

He had the grace to look slightly sheepish. Another good sign. She raised her glass. ‘Sarac, Loethar!’ she said, wishing him fine health in the Steppes language.

‘To new beginnings,’ he replied before drinking.

‘All right. Do you mind my saying that you look very…er, handsome today?’

His brow crinkled. ‘Why would I mind such a compliment?’

Valya sipped before she spoke, then regarded him carefully, her head cocked to one side. ‘I am wary around you. I no longer know what is the right thing to say.’

He scoffed gently. ‘Say only the truth. That is all I ever want to hear.’

She nodded, sipping again. ‘Whose clothes do you wear?’

‘Freath tells me they belonged to Regor De Vis. It seems we were of a similar size. I shall have my own made soon enough.’

‘This style suits you,’ she said, careful to see how Loethar would react before fully committing herself.

‘This is how I mean to dress from now on. If I am to be emperor of the region, I must fit in.’

‘Getting rid of all the metal hooked into your face is sensible too, as is your new astonishing neatness.’ He said nothing but he didn’t seem angered by her comment and she took that as encouragement. ‘So, it is not your intention to change the conquered people into —’

‘No,’ he said, firmly. ‘They are Set. They remain that way. Any changes I implement will be gradual and subtle.’

‘Wise,’ she said, sipping again. ‘I’m amazed. You look like you’ve always belonged here.’ She walked around him, admiring how well the garments were cut, and how closely they fitted his body. ‘The legate was important to the king.’

‘They were closer than brothers.’

‘He had family, did you know?’

‘Yes. A wife, dead, and two sons from that union.’

‘Where are they?’

‘We don’t know. It’s important that we find them.’

‘Are they a problem?’

‘I suspect at seventeen summertides they will be. I was.’

She smiled at his quip. ‘I can’t imagine your mother ever felt out of her depth with you.’

‘No, but then she wasn’t a mother in the way you might anticipate mothers should be. We’ve never really talked at length about your family, Valya, have we?’

It was obvious he didn’t want to discuss his own folk. ‘Other than hating them, you mean?’ she said, sweetly. ‘I’m sure I’ve told you enough.’

He looked amused. ‘Well, you had good reason. It was not your fault they had no sons.’

Valya sighed. ‘I guess not, although my parents certainly made me regret I was not born a boy every day of my pathetic existence.’

He held her gaze and she was sure — just for a moment — that he shared her pain. She didn’t fully understand his state of mind with all these new changes but she also didn’t want this new tenderness to be spoiled, so she kept her bitterness at bay, fighting down the anger that seemed to accompany any mention of her family.

‘I don’t understand why the engagement to Brennus didn’t make you rise in their estimation.’

‘Oh, it did, but not in the way I’d have hoped. All father could see was a great strategic alliance. All mother could see was wealth.’

‘And you?’

‘Escape, Loethar. You know that’s what I’ve always wanted.’

‘Not power, then?’

She laughed. ‘I didn’t say that. I won’t lie — you know me too well — of course I want power. But perhaps not for the reasons you think.’

‘For what reasons, then?’

She frowned at him, confused. ‘What is this all about?’

He shrugged, looking injured. ‘Haven’t you always complained that I never linger long enough to talk with you? Aren’t you enjoying our “conversation” — over a goblet of wine, no less, and without interruption?’

‘Yes, but I’m baffled by the topic. I’ve told you much of this before.’

‘Perhaps I want to hear it again. Perhaps I want to be sure about you, Valya.’

Her frown deepened. She wanted to ask why but again she censured herself. It would be better, in this moment, to simply enjoy the attention she had craved for so long. ‘All right. I like the idea of power for the freedom it would give me. The escape from the claustrophic sense that with every breath I take I let my parents down. Especially since the breakdown of the troth.’

‘Did they blame you for that?’

‘Of course. I think I still hear my father’s disdain each day I wake. He said: “See, even foreigners are preferable to you.”’

He nodded. ‘She was from Galinsea, as I understand it.’

‘A Romean princess, no less.’

‘How did they meet?’

She shrugged. ‘From what I could glean, old King Darros of Penraven took Prince Brennus to pay respects at the funeral of the Emperor Luc. Galinsea and Percheron were such powerful trading regions that the Set couldn’t ignore the important event and Darros represented all of the Set rulers.’ She sighed. ‘The short of it is that Brennus met the young Iselda, one of the daughters of the Romean prince and …’ She looked up, smiling bitterly. ‘My betrothal was forgotten.’

‘She is very beautiful,’ he said.

‘Beautiful? Not any more,’ Valya replied, her tone more savage than she had meant it. ‘But, Loethar, did you not recognise a kindred spirit between you and Brennus?’

She saw him blanch.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Valya gave a small shrug. ‘Brennus was as ruthless as you are! Never think for a moment that the love he was purported to show for his family ever threatened his decision-making regarding the realm of Penraven.’ She saw Loethar’s eyes narrow and enjoyed the knowledge that she was telling him things he hadn’t previously known. Well, he had only ever had to ask. She was not so enamoured by their relationship to fail to realise it was a convenient one for him. Her knowledge of the Set, and the customs of this region this far west, not to mention her own lineage, were critical factors in his tolerance of her. ‘The man was a tyrant in his own way.’ She turned to gaze out one of the windows. ‘I have no doubt he loved Iselda but he also claimed to love me. He made plight troth to my parents. Droste would have been a very handy alliance for the Set, but not nearly so sparkling as the alliance forged with Galinsea and ultimately Percheron through his marriage to Iselda. Even though she was a lesser princess, a mere second or third cousin to Emperor Luc — whereas I was first born, the direct heir to our throne!’

‘Would your father have permitted you to rule?’

Valya shrugged. ‘I sometimes think he’d rather have poisoned me than permit me the throne. Even now, I am sure he’s working to see his nephew take the crown.’

‘Not while I live, Valya,’ Loethar promised. His words sent a thrill through her. ‘But how was Iselda more appropriate for Brennus?’

‘Iselda came directly from King Falza’s line. She was of his blood, and that carried tremendous status. The Set trades through Percheron — I’m sure you know that?’ He nodded. ‘Well, that match allowed Brennus to forge those vital links to the east. And the beauty you speak of was simply the diamond dust on the top of an already sparkling betrothal.’ She balled her fists. ‘How could Droste compete with that?’ she spat.

He didn’t reply immediately and Valya held her tongue. Her bitterness had ruined the pleasant atmosphere, she was sure. She heard him pour more wine but only turned when he surprised her with a light touch on her arm. She hadn’t even realised he had moved silently next to her.

Loethar handed her her goblet, its contents refreshed. ‘Here, it’s had a chance to breathe now. It tastes even better.’ She took the cup. ‘You know, Valya,’ he continued, drawing closer still until their shoulders touched. ‘Everything about life is perception.’ She looked at him quizzically but he was staring out to the sea, not looking at her. ‘What one man casts aside as unnecessary could be the very thing that another man has been searching for.’

She frowned. ‘I understand the sentiment, but what are you saying?’

‘Yes, let’s not speak in couched terms. Let me be plain. Droste may not have been such a gain for Brennus if at the time he felt secure with all the realms of the Set working in such alignment. But I would like to see Droste as part of the Set — a new member. It is more strategic than Brennus gave it credit for. Droste is the source of the great river that feeds this region; its mountains are very important to us as much of Lo’s Teeth is unexplored — we have no idea what riches are to be found in the foothills alone. Droste has music and art and though Cremond is the seat of learning for the Set, perhaps Droste can become its cultural centre point?’ Valya’s eyes had widened. She could barely believe what she was hearing; was more than a year of manouevring and cunning finally going to pay off?

Slowly letting her breath out, she repeated carefully, ‘What are you saying?’ She put her goblet down on a small weaven table nearby. Her fingers were suddenly trembling.

He smiled almost self-consciously and cleared his throat. ‘I’m saying that I consider Droste to be far more valuable than Brennus did. I think we should make the union of Droste and the Set official.’

She stared at him, and knew she was blinking with nervousness as well as excitement. ‘Marriage?’

He looked down momentarily, then fixed her with his dark gaze. ‘Yes. Marry me, Valya.’

It took her a moment to make sure she had heard him absolutely clearly. Then she squealed and threw her arms around his neck. It was girlish, perhaps even childish, and everything she knew he would detest but she was beside herself with happiness. ‘Loethar! Yes! Of course!’

He held her away from him. ‘Good. Thank you.’