Royal Exile (54 page)

‘I know you don’t, Freath, because Belush here has explained everything, particularly that it was his idea and that he was in league with the servant woman to kill the princess.’

‘Why?’ Freath asked. Why would they be so naïve to try such a thing? He had no delusions as to why they might want to.

Loethar waved his hand, distracted. ‘I can’t be bothered with more of this. Stracker, you know what to do?’ His half-brother nodded, glancing angrily toward the warrior at his side, who still looked unimpressed by what was unfolding. ‘Belush, you’re an idiot. Lose your life for her?’ Loethar pointed at Genrie’s now frightfully swollen face.

‘No, Lord Loethar. I am losing it for her,’ the Green spat savagely at Valya. Freath seemed to be the only one taken aback by the outburst. ‘This
saran
,’ Belush continued, loading the word with scorn, ‘treats your people with loathing. Forgive me, my lord, but I fear the woman who has drunk the poison is more loyal to you than the one you seek to make princess. Heed the servant’s warning. I go to my death holding my head high as a Drevin. No Green bows to a Droste slut.’ He spat again and a gob of saliva landed on the rug glistening before them all.

Loethar nodded at Stracker but said nothing and the warrior was led away, presumably to die in some ritual or tribal manner. As far as Freath was concerned, there would now be one less barbarian to chase from Set soil.

Valya had an expression of disgust on her face. She turned to say something to Loethar but the look he gave her silenced her instantly. ‘I suggest you think on what has happened this night, Valya,’ Loethar said coldly. ‘For I cannot protect you for the rest of your days. Now leave.’

She had the sense to turn on her heel and depart without another word, though it must have cost her to remain quiet, Freath thought. With Genrie’s distorted face staring at him, he could not enjoy even a moment of cheer that Valya, who clearly saw herself as the victim in all this, had come out of it badly.

The door closed on the two men and the corpse they shared the room with.

‘I think you were fond of this woman, Freath,’ Loethar remarked.

Freath cleared his throat, forced his gaze upon the man who had ordered Genrie to kill herself. He nodded. ‘She was brave,’ was all he could say.

‘I noted. The poison she used is called strenic. It is distilled from an herb that grows wild on the Steppes. It’s harmless to horses, but deadly to us.’ When Freath said nothing, Loethar continued. ‘It causes an incredibly painful death. I admired her stoicism at the end. It seems she despised Valya more than she loved her life.’

It took all of Freath’s courage to say what he did. ‘Well, my lord, at risk of sounding hilariously ironic, can I fetch you a warm drink to help return you to your slumber? I can assure you, you will find no poison in it.’ He tried for levity but to his ears it sounded leaden.

Loethar gave him a slow smile. ‘Now that I’ve lost my royal taster I suppose I shall have to trust you, Freath. Perhaps you could move the corpse as well?’

Freath nodded. ‘You go back to your chamber, my lord. I’ll see to this.’

It was only much later, after recruiting help to have the body carried down to the chapel, after Father Briar had recited prayers blessing Genrie’s spirit, after he had finally been left alone with her, that Freath broke down and wept. Feeling old, very alone and broken, he cried for Genrie and his loss. But his tears were also for all the courageous souls who had given their lives for Valisar.

31

King Leonel felt elemental power swirling around him, the way it feels just before a lightning storm begins to split across the sky. He felt the hair on his head begin to lift, the hair on his arms stand up and his skin begin to itch as though the very air was beginning to thicken and crackle. The forest had become utterly silent. All the noises of the birds settling down to their roosts and insects calling out to each other faded to nothing. The trees, the grass, the night … all blurred into a dim void.

The only thing he could see clearly, he realised, was the Stone of Truth. He could swear it was pulsing in a rhythm of its own, as though listening, responding even, to the words he recited.

He continued to speak the oath as loudly as he dared, to mean every word of what he was saying, to throw behind it all the emotion of the past few days. He wanted the very souls of his mother, father, Darros, perhaps even Cormoron to hear him make his promise as the new King of Penraven, 9th of the Valisars. He needed someone to tell him that Gavriel was going to be all right, that Corbel was safe, that he was pursuing the right path and that one day he might challenge Loethar for the crown that was rightfully his.

‘Is anyone listening?’ he yelled into the air that seemed to be splintering about him. Suddenly a dull rumble sounded, escalating in volume to an ear-splitting roar. He couldn’t hear his own voice above the clamour and was glad his oath was spoken. ‘This is King Leonel of Penraven,’ he cried at the moon. No longer golden, it was now a glimmering silver orb that filled the space it lit with sparkles and flecks of flashing light. ‘I am King Leonel, the 9th,’ he tried again, to affirm the title to himself as much as to whomever might be listening.

And someone was listening.

Holding his breath now, Leo watched as a fissure appeared to open in the air that was rippling before him. It was as though he was straddling two worlds and into this world, where he knelt, was emerging a figure.

The Stone of Truth was blazing with blinding silver explosions of light. Though Leo had to blink and squint against it, unable to look directly at it, he could see a sinuous form stretching, unfurling from the Stone itself. He shrank back as the shape began to take a more solid form. The explosions began to recede until the figure was bathed in a constantly moving, shimmering glow.

‘Do not be afraid,’ she said, as she finally coalesced into a curious half-woman, half-serpent beast.

‘Cyrena?’

Her pale, achingly beautiful face broke into a gentle smile and all the noise quietened. ‘Welcome, Leonel, to the Stone of Truth,’ she said, reaching out to him.

‘You are magnificent,’ he breathed, stunned by her glory. Her upper half had the proportions of the most perfectly shaped woman, with long silky hair that curled and flicked down to her elbows, but from her waist down her body became a dazzling, glittering mass of coils. Her arms were long and sinuous, shifting with the grace of a dancer.

Moving purely on instinct, Leo reached for one of those elegant hands and kissed it gently, reverently. She placed her other hand upon his head.

‘Rise,’ she commanded.

He watched, tongue-tied, as Faeroe lifted from the stone, eased itself from its scabbard and landed effortlessly in Cyrena’s waiting hand, where it blazed with silver power. She turned the blade toward Leo and touched it to his head.

‘King Leonel, I accept your oath and proclaim you ruler of Penraven, 9th of the Valisars, keeper of the Denova Set.’ She handed him the sword and he took it, re-sheathing it.

‘Wear it with pride,’ she urged, and nodded, encouraging him to strap it around him, which he did. ‘You don’t look like a Valisar but you now look like a king.’ Her words sounded harsh but they were said gently. ‘I speak the truth and answer only what you ask. Your mother was a most beautiful woman and you resemble her closely.’

He nodded. ‘Everyone else in our family has dark hair,’ he admitted. Cyrena said nothing but she shimmered, the action causing her naked breasts to quiver.

‘I am sorry about your parents. I imagine you come here burning with a vow to avenge them?’

‘I do, Cyrena. I make that vow before you.’

‘Be very sure about it,’ she said, cryptically. ‘There is an old saying from the ancients — don’t kill the snake and miss the scorpion.’ Her laugh sounded like glass chimes. ‘I do not refer to myself, of course.’

Leo was mesmerised by her. Though he didn’t understand her advice he knew he would ponder it later.

‘My only intention is to bring peace back to our land and win back the crown,’ he emphasised, trying to make himself clear.

‘I know you speak true. And the crown is rightfully yours, though the claim is a complex one.’

‘I don’t see why. The barbarian marauder has unleashed a river of blood and despair to steal my father’s throne; it cannot be rightfully his.’

‘Loethar seeks the magic that he believes he can attain.’

‘My father had no magic. I have no magic.’

She shimmered silently in response.

‘He
ate
my father to achieve something the king could never give him.’

‘Loethar is on a mission that burns so deeply, so angrily, that he will not sway from his path.’

‘Then he will meet me when I am a man and I will cut him down on that path which is mine,’ Leo vowed, his fury igniting.

She shimmered again at the passion in his voice. ‘The Valisars have never lacked courage.’

He hung his head. ‘I must summon courage on behalf of all the Valisars who have died for Loethar’s cause. I am the only one left.’

‘Are you sure?’

He stared blankly at the silver serpent woman. ‘My newborn sister died and —’

‘Your sister did not die,’ she replied over his words, her form unfurling several coils so she loomed large.

Leo opened his arms in confusion, his mouth following suit. He was lost momentarily, both for words and understanding. Something in his chest tightened. ‘She died soon after birth. I saw her body. My mother held her dead body. She was cremated, her ashes thrown from Brighthelm’s rooftops on Loethar’s orders.’

‘You certainly saw a dead girl. Your mother certainly held a baby’s corpse in her arms and a newborn was no doubt cremated, its ashes scattered as you say. But, Leo, that was not your sister.’

‘My mother —’

‘She never knew, child. She went to her death believing her husband and daughter dead and you lost to her.’

‘Who knew?’ he demanded, his voice breaking, remembering how his mother’s heart had broken to hold the little girl she had tried so hard to win.

‘Brennus.’

‘My father knew?’

‘Your father contrived the deception.’

Leo was stunned. ‘What did he do?’

‘He made a difficult decision. He had a baby murdered to take the place of his daughter, while your sister was sent away to grow in safety.’

‘She’s alive?’ he asked breathlessly, his mind spinning.

Cyrena nodded. ‘And she must return to Penraven when she is of an age.’

‘Where is she?’

‘A place you do not know.’

‘Why not?’ He didn’t mean to sound rude; fortunately, she didn’t take offence.

‘It is reachable only through magic,’ was all she would say.

‘I must find her!’ Leo said.

‘You must. She is important. Ah, the clouds arrive. Our time is drawing to an end.’

He could sense her withdrawing. ‘How do I find her?’

‘Corbel De Vis has the knowledge. That is all I can tell you.’

‘Why are there so many secrets?’

‘There are always with the Valisars. Gavriel de Vis holds another.’ The clouds darkened over the moon. ‘My time here ends. The fissure closes. I must return to the world of the gods, Leonel. Be brave, be safe. Most of all, beware. Nothing is ever what it fully seems — sometimes friends are enemies and enemies are friends.’ She gave him a soft sad smile and the coils of her serpent form began to loop around one another, her body melting back into the stone as she began to fade.

‘Cyrena, wait! Please, I have so many questions.’

But she was gone. The light that had bathed him in such brilliance snapped to black. The moon was returned to its original, slightly golden orb. The birds were silent but insects sang and leaves rustled overhead.

Leo, bent over the Stone of Truth, let out a roar of despair. From the shadows Kilt Faris emerged.

‘What occurred? I have barely sat down to wait.’

The king raised his head. ‘The serpent came.’ He saw Faris’s eyes light with interest.

‘And?’

‘She shared a secret.’

Faris nodded. ‘Why is that no surprise?’ He held up a hand as Leo opened his mouth. ‘No, my king. She shared that with you. It is not for me to hear.’

Leo didn’t care. He was sick of his father’s secrets. ‘No, you need to hear this, in case anything happens to me. My sister is not dust on the winds. Her death was a ruse, orchestrated by my father much as he orchestrated my escape. He left only his adopted, disabled son to face Loethar — I see now that he gambled correctly that Piven would not be considered a threat.’ As Leo spoke, everything fell into place in his mind. ‘He planned for everything. And he has left a separate secret with each of the De Vis twins but I have no idea where Corbel is and neither does Gav. We have to find both of them.’

‘At the risk of sounding heartless, do you really believe your newborn sister is that important right now?’

‘Faris, the Valisar line has never produced a female who has survived beyond birth. My sister’s arrival must have terrified my father. I thought he was just frightened to have another child to protect. How naïve of me.’ He shook his head, lost in thought.

‘What are you saying?’ Faris prompted.

Leo looked up, his eyes slightly glassy with awe. ‘No female of the line has survived,’ he repeated. ‘It is said that a Valisar woman of the royal line will carry the legacy if she survives.’

‘Legacy?’

‘The Valisar Enchantment.’ Leo put his hands to his head, then dropped them, shaking his head in wonder. ‘My tutors were obliged to teach this but my history guide never believed the tale of enchantment. He said the female strain was simply not strong enough in our line. But my father told me once that to bring forth a princess would be the greatest achievement for any Valisar king. He said the reason they were so few was that the enchantment they carried was so powerful it traditionally killed them before the babies had a chance to grow strong enough to bear it.’

Faris looked stunned. ‘What is this enchantment?’

‘The ability to coerce,’ Leo answered. ‘If she is alive, as the serpent attests, then my sister may well have the ability to force people to do things.’