Sworn To Conflict: Courtlight #3 (32 page)

As Lillian lowered his head back to the pillow, he whispered, “Thank you.”

Ciardis smiled and put the cup down. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“How do you feel?” asked Lillian, with a worried note in her voice.

“Like a dream.”

Lillian frowned. “That much pain?”

“No,” he said while he caught his breath. “It’s like a dream that you’re both here. By my side.”

Ciardis blinked in amazement.

She looked up and over at her mother and then back down at her brother.

“Is that what you meant when you said, ‘Say hello to our mother for me,’ back in the mines?” she asked him.

He turned his gaze fully on her. “Yes.”

Ciardis dropped his hand before she could squeeze it in anger and hurt him by mistake. “You knew she was alive. You knew she was here. And you didn’t tell me?”

“When could I?” he said, and he tried to speak more but only ended up gasping in pain. His vocal cords had to be damaged. That didn’t make Ciardis any less angry or satisfy her pain.

“Yes, dear, he knew,” said Lillian soothingly. “You saw what happened when Vana found out. The danger was great. I couldn’t risk it.”

Ciardis bit the inside of her lip. Still not happy.

Lillian sighed. “What matters now is that we’re here. Together. And no one can separate us now.”

Ciardis said skeptically, “Someone will find out who you are. Now five people in this very camp know: you, me, Caemon, Lady Vana, and the Lord Chamberlain.”

Lillian nodded. “I have no doubt that my identity will soon be discovered. Which is why I have a plan. A plan to turn the imperial courts inside out, get justice, and stop the war.”

For reasons known only to each of the Weathervanes, Lillian’s plan was of interest. They all wanted something from the imperial courts. But the only way to get it was to play the games of the courtiers. Ciardis had done so before and failed. But her mother had been consummate at it. Perhaps it was time to truly learn where her blood had come from.

For the rest of the night Caemon and Ciardis listened to Lillian talk about the roles they would play in the courts, starting with an entrance that would rival any coming out party.

Looking at her mother with something akin to fascination, Ciardis asked, “So you’re saying we can go back to court and you won’t be arrested?”

Lillian laughed. “Yes, that’s it exactly. They can do whatever they want outside of court. They can hunt me down like a dog, but within court there are rules that must be followed, protocols in place, and blood, above all, is revered. They’ll put me on trial, just as they did the duchess of Carne, but that could take weeks or months to conclude. In the meantime I’ll be free to roam about as I please.”

When Lillian said “roam,” Ciardis heard, ‘make as much mischief as I want and enact revenge.’ But it sounded plausible. From what she had seen at court and the power the nobles held, she wouldn’t put it past them to let one of their own—one accused of Imperial regicide, no less—to just go free until trial. Before she could ask her mother about the murder, Caemon spoke.

“Have to get there first,” he said haltingly through the pain.

Lillian’s lidded eyes looked down. “Yes, dear, we do, and before that we have to get you well.”

Ciardis looked down at her brother and back up at her mother. She didn’t say it, but she thought,
That could take months
. But Lillian looked perfectly at ease.

A rustle sounded in front of the healer’s tent. Ciardis was beginning to wonder where the healers all were. None of the patients looked terminally ill, but it also wasn’t like one of the healer’s guild to forsake their duties. She turned to the entrance and unsheathed a knife as the rustling out front grew louder.

“Ah!” exclaimed Lillian. “That must be my guests. Excuse me, Ciardis, Caemon, I must tell the guards not to harass them.” Her illusion fell back into place.

Ciardis knelt back down at her brother’s side, unconsciously clasping his hand in hers while she held her knife in front of her and watched the entrance with a wary golden gaze.

“It’s all right. Will be all right,” whispered Caemon from behind her. She didn’t turn around to look at him, but she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Smiling, Lillian returned the tent with two tall soldiers following behind her. Between them they had strung a sling between two poles. Ciardis watched as they came up and stopped by the foot of Caemon’s bed. Lillian motioned for her to get up, a gesture very reminiscent of Lady Serena’s old ways. “Let them by his side, Ciardis.”

“Why?” she asked, not moving an inch. Unofficially challenging her mother.

Lillian noticed but she didn’t say anything about it. She merely answered the question. “Because they’re here to carry Caemon to his healer.”

“He
has
a healer,” Ciardis said flatly. “Right here.” She believed in her mother. But Caemon was defenseless. She had to protect him first.

Lillian sighed. “Ciardis, I promise you, your brother will be well cared for. After tonight he will look as if tragedy never befell him.”

Ciardis wasn’t ready to let it go, but Caemon squeezed her hand. The lightest of gestures, almost undetectable if she hadn’t been paying attention.

She turned back to him and he said, “I want to go.”

She knew he was in a lot of pain. The slightest movement made him flinch.

She shook her head. “If we move you now, it’ll cause you even more pain.”

“Worth it,” he said through shuddering breaths.

Ciardis whirled stiffly to face her mother and two guards she had brought with her. “Why couldn’t the healer come to us?”

“He’s tied up at the moment,” her mother said dryly.

“Surely you can see how much pain Caemon’s in,” Ciardis said, pleading. “Moving him will be torture.”

“I promise you, Ciardis,” Lillian said, clasping her hand, “it will be worth it.”

“It’d better be,” said Ciardis, tightening her hand on Lillian’s and speaking through gritted teeth.

As they exited the tent, Caemon carried between the two soldiers, Lillian in front and Ciardis behind, Ciardis saw Inga’s nose flare as she stared hard at Lillian with suspicious eyes.
She suspects something
, Ciardis realized. What, she couldn’t say.

Ciardis, Lillian, Caemon and their guards walked off into the night. The frost giant warriors trailing behind. When they arrived at their destination near the center of the camp, Ciardis looked around in surprise. She’d never been here and it reeked of fear, of urine, of dampness, and of feces. Her lips curled she looked around. It was clear this part of camp had deliberately been left unattended. Which was strange, as it was right in the middle of the soldiers’ barracks. Dirty pools of mud and snow littered every step. She looked ahead to Serena, but she couldn’t catch her eye. Finally they stopped outside a cage with metal bars and a metal roof. It was a large one, fit for a bear. But the only thing it held was a single Daemoni. He was chained to the floor like an animal with a metal collar that was anchored to the base and had no slack. It made him hunch down and caused his wings to rise up in their confinements, pinned uselessly by the short height of the cage.

When the prisoner heard them come closer to the cage, he strained his neck to look up. His hair, unbound, fell in his face. Furious, Ciardis realized that it was Thanar sitting in that dung-filled cage. She rushed to the metal bars. “How could they do this?” she said. “We don’t treat dogs like this, much less prisoners of war.”

Thanar chuckled. “I’m touched, but your empire has never had much regard for my kind.”

She swallowed harshly when she realized that they had also cut his hair. His long, beautiful, inky black hair that had reached to his waist now barely covered his ears.

“Those assholes,” she said.

Thanar didn’t comment. He probably thought she was still talking about the cage.

Ciardis knew that they had left raised welts on his body out of pettiness. His beautiful long hair now lay shorn at the bottom of the cage as punishment. Petty, trivial hate. And she couldn’t stand it.

She turned to Serena, who watched the conversation with avid interest, and asked in a hoarse voice, “Why are we here?”

“We need a healer,” Serena said briskly. “Well, here he is.”

Ciardis looked back and forth from the shackled Thanar to the convalescent Caemon.

“No,” she said abruptly. “Are you crazy?”

“I am not,” Serena replied dryly. “Although I sense you disapprove.”

Ciardis pointed at Thanar angrily. “He’s no healer. He’s a thief, a charlatan, and a murderer.”

“Oh, but you see, my dear,” Lillian said, “one can be all of those things.”

Lillian turned her attention to the Daemoni bound to the floor by his neck. “Isn’t that right, Prince Thanar?”

Thanar watched her with wary eyes. He didn’t know what her price was.

His voice changed into a distinctive purr – dangerous and deadly, “And why should I help you?”

“Because I can offer you the one thing you seek,” Serena said with satisfaction.

“Freedom?” he said, snorting. “I can obtain freedom on my own.”

Ciardis coughed. “Looks like you can do anything but.”

Thanar didn’t deign to look over at her.

“No, Prince,” said Serena, “the chance to strike back at the empire’s heart.”

Ciardis shifted uneasily. Afraid the wrong ears might overhear. No guards were on duty, likely because they couldn’t imagine the bound Daemoni breaking through the thick bars, but Kane stood nearby. When she looked over at him, his expression was carefully blank. She almost reached over to tap her mother on the shoulder to warn her to be more careful.

“And how, precisely, would you do that?” the Daemoni prince said carefully.

Serena smiled. “By throwing their imperial court into turmoil and turning their nobles against them. The two things the Algardis ruler prizes above all are order and obedience. Take that away from him and you have chaos.”

Thanar watched her steadily with hooded eyes.

“Come, Prince,” chided Serena. “Everyone knows a Daemoni loves a good fight.”

“Serena,” hissed Ciardis. “I don’t think this is right. We’ll find another way.”

Thanar’s gaze flickered quickly to Ciardis under the hair that masked his eyes and away again, but not before Lillian Weathervane saw him.

“Another way?” Lillian said craftily while studying the Daemoni’s features. “There is no other way to heal your brother and return you to court in time Ciardis, not while keeping your brother and myself alive.”

Ciardis turned to Lillian, miffed about the last part. “There has to be. I mean, how can he heal Caemon, anyway? He...”

Ciardis’s voice trailed off as she looked at the Daemoni that she had thought safely caged. Inhumanely so, but safely.

Thanar stood up. And as he stood the chain binding him to the cage floor snapped and withered like a vine melting in flame, the cage roof and the bars exploded outward and landed in the muck, and the chains binding him at his hands and feet withered away, as well. He stood unbound.

Lillian smiled, triumphant.

“I can heal Caemon,” said Thanar, eyes flashing as he looked down at Ciardis and then over to Serena, “but I’ll need more than chaos to satisfy me.”

“And you shall have it,” Serena purred.

He narrowed his eyes. “Starting with the truth as to who you are.”

He didn’t move, but a deadly cloak descended over all of them in the empty yard. The frost giantesses came forward, hoisting their battleaxes. He didn’t bother to glance at them. He kept his hardened gaze firmly on Lady Serena.

For a moment no one said anything.

And then she dropped the concealment in front of them all.

T
he guards carrying Caemon didn’t bat an eye, and it was clear that none of the frost giantesses knew who she was. But Kane’s teeth were clenched and he palmed a knife. Thanar knew who she was, too, but he left his judgment for what she could do for him.

“Just a moment,” said Lillian Weathervane, tilting to her head to Kane.

Thanar nodded. “Of course.” He understood the value of having faithful servants.

Ciardis watched as her mother left the Daemoni prince and walked over to where she and Kane stood.

“Kane, is it?”

He nodded stiffly.

“You have served my daughter faithfully through her tribulations in the Northern Mountains,” Lillian said softly. “I know you know who I am. I won’t trivialize that. We value your service and ask for your faith.”

Kane spoke. “My faith lies with the ruler of these lands.”

Lillian smiled. “And so did mine, at one point. And now it lies with the land itself. I have nothing to gain by harming the current emperor. He is not my enemy. In fact, what I seek to do is to protect him—just not in his name, of course.”

Kane didn’t trust her. Ciardis could see that. He would be a fool not to listen to his instincts.

“One week,” Lillian said with flirtatious tilt of her head. “That’s all I ask.”

A growl and the sound of a sword being unsheathed was all they heard before Inga stepped forward, ready to slay Lillian on the spot. She might not know whom she was, but she wouldn’t take kindly to a woman flirting with her lover, either.

Kane threw out a restraining hand, and it landed on her waist. “Wait, Inga. Be patient.”

“Patient for what?”

“I think we should hear her out.”

Ciardis’s jaw dropped. She thought her hearing must have failed. Had Kane said what she thought he had said?

“Inga comes with me,” said Kane. “In all cases. And with whomever she deems appropriate.”

Inga looked down at the soldier with surprise. “You didn’t consult me.”

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, love. Do you
want
to come with me?”

“Where?” said Inga bluntly.

“To the Imperial courts,” said Lillian with a brilliant smile as she looked at the frost giantess and her kin. Ciardis had a sinking feeling in her stomach about this.

“I’ve never been down to the warm lands,” admitted Inga. “Might be fun.”

“Good, then,” said Lillian with a smile, and they clasped hands as if they had just agreed to go pillow shopping.