Vision of Light [The Renegades 1] (22 page)

"They'll tend to your supper and bath,” Lucien told her as he moved away. “I'll be back. Do not leave here.” After picking up three flasks of wine from the shelf, he strode out of Lilypad.

Lucien visited the small stream in the back of Calvacade for a good dunk. He worked off his frustration by swimming the stream before he washed up. Traver had provided him with his own clothes. Traver and he were almost the same height and build, although the white outfit a sharp contrast to what Lucien usually preferred. Traver dressed only in white, and Lucien had never asked why. His cousin seemed more than a little odd.

But then, Aislan had her own eccentricities and was also odd. Anyone Lucien knew who was a bit of a genius had always been wired a little strangely.

Once clean and presentable enough to be fit company, Lucien returned to the laboratory.

Sitting back against the plush cushion, Lucien stared at Traver. “I should not assume any favor from you, but I have no other option."

"You always asked for help so graciously.” Traver poured a cup of wine for them both. “How could I refuse when you phrase it that way?"

Lucien grunted and downed his wine in one go. He hated asking for anything from anyone, but his pride had no role in this matter with his hands tied. “They could take Calvacade from you if you become involved."

Traver paused as he lifted the cup to drink. “Then we need to make certain no one finds out.” He took one swallow of the wine. “May I ask what ‘tis all about?"

Lucien debated how much Traver knew. His cousin was a difficult man to decipher. He rarely involved himself in anyone else's business, which made it hard for Lucien to ask him anything. “I am not the king's favorite at the moment."

Traver smiled. “The Crown Prince is not even his favorite, so why should you be?"

Lucien had to smile back. He and the happy-go-lucky, recalcitrant Crown Prince Jules were good friends. The Crown Prince was the despair of the king and queen. Lucien's sympathy lay with Prince Jules.

"What happened with you?” Traver asked.

"You do not know?"

"Why should I know?” Traver asked in his infuriatingly noncommittal manner.

"What did my mother say?” Lucien took another swallow of his wine.

"Whatever you have done wrong, even your mother is not apprised of the situation. What troubles are you in?"

"Lady Aislan needs protection.” Lucien debated on how much to divulge. “She has been marked for assassination. It cannot simply be because she was the hapless wife of a traitor whom I executed."

Traver whistled. “The Sorcery Circle sent you to execute traitors?"

Lucien shrugged.

"And ‘twas why you disappeared for many months at a time. What happened with Lady Aislan?"

"She does not deserve to die."

"She is an exquisitely beautiful woman."

"I did not save her because of her beauty."

"Ah, yes. ‘Tis a shame to hurt the innocent and the helpless,” Traver agreed easily. “What are your plans? You cannot hide her forever if the Crown wants her dead."

"I intend to find the motives before we face the Court. Meanwhile, I need to make sure no one can find her. Once she cannot be tracked, we shall leave."

"There is no need to leave at all. I offer you both protection."

"I need no protection. I am more concerned with Aislan. ‘Twas difficult coming here. I do not want to put you under scrutiny, Traver."

"I care not a damn being under anyone's scrutiny."

"Nevertheless, I prefer not.” Lucien drank some more.

"Very well.” Traver did not pursue the matter. Lucien knew Traver, as a sorcery master, had taken under his tutelage a group of young apprentices learning the art of alchemy sorcery. Although Traver was only a couple of years older than Lucien, he had the responsibility of caring for these apprentices for the requisite twenty-one years. Lucien had put Traver in a tenuous position by coming here, but he had no one else to whom he could turn.

"I'll start work on the potion tonight. Bring Lady Aislan by early in the morn for a blood sample,” Traver said. “We have a Family Sojourn today. You will, unfortunately, need to stay out of sight for a few days until this ends."

Opening the second wine flask, Lucien felt like a whipped dog for even coming here. For Aislan, he would swallow his pride to keep her safe. “I do not like to intrude. You have enough mouths to feed."

Traver grinned. “I owe you one for saving my life."

Lucien raised a toast. “Women shall be the death of us one day.” His, anyway.

"I hear you."

The two of them drank a couple of cups of wine.

"You may wish to visit her Grace. She has inquired after you. When was the last time you saw your dear mother?"

"I'll make my visit soon.” Lucien shrugged with lack of enthusiasm even though his mouth went dry at the thought of facing his mother again. Their last parting had been full of bitterness, and neither had been in contact with the other. Even after his escape from South Sharland's dungeon, a consequence of a botched mission that nearly cost him his life, they had not spoken.

"How could you stay away from your mother now that you two have reunited? Make peace with the lady."

"I'll do my best.” Lucien could never please the duchess, but he felt no inclination to explain.

The two of them reminisced and drank, Lucien taking three cups to every one of Traver's, until he emptied the second wine flask and opened the third one. Traver looked concerned.

"No worry. I can drink anyone under the table."

"Since when?” Traver snorted. “You need to keep your wits about you. I have had enough. I cannot hold my drink worth a damn. Anyway, I should not be drunk. ‘Tis not a good example to set for my young wards."

"At least you could pass your knowledge to your apprentices.” Lucien felt inordinately sorry for himself. “Stonebrush is gone."

Traver leaned back against his chair. “I wondered about that. I received an invitation to Stonebrush Castle in your honor.” He shook his head. “What happened? Ah, I see. You were supposed to kill Lady Aislan."

"Yes.” Lucien slashed a finger across his throat. “They wanted her head badly."

"'Twould be difficult to kill the woman you are in love with."

"I was not in love.” Lucien frowned and then drank some more. “No reason to keep making a damn fool of myself. She is very determined to go to a sorcery clan, but I cannot figure out why she is so obsessed with a particular one. I am certain she does not even know where to find it. I cannot figure it. Why me?"

"Why you what?"

"All these years of loyalty, and I have nothing to look forward to. I have thought about it over and over. Why did they send me on this mission? Eight of us started out, and then it became fourteen. Too many involved. All of us, mostly sorcerers—determined to kill one little witch. And her husband. And a couple of accomplices. And a little boy. All of us sorcerers, targeting hapless mortals. I usually dealt with powerful sorcerers, surviving each mission always by a hairsbreadth. I chased this helpless little temptress who could not defend herself for the life of her. Why did they add her name to the decree at the last moment? Can you make any sense out of this?"

"Not quite."

"Come now. You cannot figure out what I am?” Lucien asked. “I expected every royal guard to be looking for me now, me—the prized royal assassin, the
Sorsverein's
greatest disappointment, and yet you have no inkling."

"You should stop talking, Lucien. You are divulging secrets I should not be privy to.” True to form, Traver had no interest in knowing more than he had to. Lucien's identity on the Secret Security Council was known only to a few and those involved on missions. Anonymity cloaked the Council to protect espionage activities.

"Fuck all the secrets,” Lucien decided. “Will you turn me in, or will you give milady and me enough time to make ourselves scarce before you send a messenger to His Majesty?” Lucien frowned at the sudden realization. “'Tis not the king's doing. He is a fair and just ruler. He may be irresponsible about all the possible bastards he could sire, but he is a benign king. Anyhow, he is too preoccupied with his young mistress to bother with the intricate details of plotting a smokescreen mission. It has to be the Royal Advisors, and the
Sorsverein
leads the pack. What could he be up to? You know what a sadistic bastard he is. He could make a man out of anybody by beating the fuck out of them. I know he must have worked you to death, too, but you have escaped his clutch—finally. But do not be too sure. Nothing is ever final with that old bastard."

"The enemies will not need to torture you, Lucien. A few bottles will have you divulging all.” Traver picked up both cups and put them on the floor under his own chair.

"'Tis because, believe it or not, when it comes down to it, I trust you, my dear cousin,” Lucien continued. “I trust you more than my own mother, but that means nothing. Put it this way. I trust you with Aislan, and that means a lot. I thought about it over and over. There are a dozen reasons why they want Aislan, but am I to make a list and give it to her? I'll not be able to defend her once I surrendered. She certainly would not be allowed to stand before the king and cross them off the list until she gets it right. It could be Narisse. It could be the Scroll. It could be Isthmus’ Ice. In any case, it would make more sense for the king to keep Aislan alive than to have her killed.” Lucien knew, vaguely, he jumped all over the map, but Traver was a damn genius and should be able to follow. “It could be because they fear she will become powerful, so they want to get rid of her now. It still does not make sense. ‘Tis forbidden to kill untrained sorcerers.” He leaned over confidentially. “So you know, before you decide whether or not to harbor me, they'll torch Calvacade if they find me here. I am wanted for murder."

That got the implacable Traver's attention, who sat up straight. “What murder?"

"I killed a
sorsvasus
brother."

Traver looked stunned, a sight Lucien had never seen. Lucien laughed without amusement. “I ran my sword into his head."

"Surely you did not mean to."

"My other option was to run him through the heart.” Lucien shook his aching head. Perhaps he needed to stop drinking because his vision had become blurry. He rubbed his tired eyes with both his palms until he could see again.

Traver waited until Lucien had regained his composure, and then said quietly, “I am certain it must have been in self-defense."

"Not self-defense. ‘Twas kill him or lose Aislan. He shape-shifted as a wolf, and he was a mere moment away from ripping open her throat. He gave me no time to warn him, no option. ‘Twas no self-defense, though. He only obeyed mandate, and I killed him. I maimed the other three wolves. I did not know at the time they would not be able to kill Aislan, not through sorcery. She would have stopped them somehow and consumed them. She certainly consumed me. Daman is dead, and even you, my friend, could not bring him back."

As soon as he said it, seeing Traver's pale face, Lucien could cut out his tongue. How could he be such an insensitive bastard?

"Ah, I am a fuck, Traver. You will have to forgive me.” Lucien sighed. Traver lost his beloved wife years ago, one whom he could not save for all his sorcery power. Lucien now understood the devastating loss that must have been. If anything happened to Aislan—the thought of her being killed was too much to bear. Lucien looked for his wine cup, but he had misplaced it. He picked up the flask and took a swish.

"You have had enough.” Traver got to his feet. “Time for you to go back to Lilypad. Come, I'll help you make sure you do not pass out halfway there."

Lucien, however, was determined to go back on his own and left Traver at the laboratory. As he made his way back to Lilypad, Lucien diverted his path and walked through the intricate pattern of the flower garden towards the main manor. Now was the best time as any to see his mother. Sober and sensible, he would have avoided her like the plague. With a little wine to bolster his courage, he had enough nerve to confront the woman from whom he had parted bitterly nearly half a year ago.

The huge, stately manor stood three stories tall. Lucien had visited Calvacade regularly in the past three years. He remained outside though, as he concentrated on identifying the duchess’ whereabouts. He could not focus long enough to scent her properly.

Lucien heard faint movements behind him. If the wine had not dulled his senses, he would have heard the sound before then. Only instinct made him lean back and turn his head aside right before something whizzed past his ear. A dart pierced the wood panel of the doorway. Lucien looked about, but the messenger was gone.

He pulled the missile off the door and extracted the tiny parchment wrapped around the wooden body. Rubbing his eyes and wishing he had not allowed himself to become a drunken fool over the duchess, he unfolded the paper.

Hayton Temple searches for his lady.

Lucien had not returned.

Aislan paced the room. She was dressed in a light blue, flowing silk gown, simple but very pretty and just slightly too big on her. One maid had pinched together the loose folds with needle and thread. The maids left after tending to her bath and dressing her. Aislan had also finished her meal.

She wandered about the small house. Taking the two books from the bag, Aislan looked through them, but she recognized only a few words, which did not help her much in understanding the text. She flipped through the books to while away the time. A few of the words looked familiar, especially because she had seen them when they traveled through town and Lucien read the signs to her. She kept flipping through pages, seeing a few words she recognized but not enough.

When someone knocked, Aislan threw the books aside and ran eagerly to answer the door.

"Oh, ‘tis you.” She should have known better. Why would Lucien knock?

Jaden Calvacade placed a hand over his heart. “You have cut me to the quick!"

"Please forgive me, Lord Jaden. I did not mean to be so rude."