 
## Songs of Revelation

## By LeeAnn Flowers

## Smashwords Edition

## Copyright 2015 LeeAnn Flowers

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

About LeeAnn Flowers

#### Chapter One

The city walls erupted through the cloudbank painted gold by the late morning sun, but Kyrie left the adulation to the others. She had to admit that it was impressive how the shining white stone walls nearly glowed through the swirling mist, but as magnificent as the sight was, all it did was accentuate how much she missed the rugged coastline of her homeland. Traveling nearly six weeks had not diminished the image of her own small keep sitting above the crashing waves.

"You look miserable. You're a bride coming into her new home. Act like it."

Kyrie did not turn to address the sharp words. Her lady-in-waiting and best friend, Breka, stood beside her, bumping her over for a fair share of the ship's railing. She ignored Kyrie's glare and pointed toward the nearing city. "It looks beautiful."

"Great. You take my place then."

Breka sighed at the words. She had heard them far too often in the last year. "I know you don't think it so now, but your father means the best for you. Look at the opportunity you've been granted. None of your sisters got to ever leave."

Shoulders sagging, Kyrie looked away, not quite successful in hiding the tears that burned her eyes. Her six older sisters had always been more adventurous than her and several of them had begged their father, Edol, to be allowed to seek husbands outside of Mithlaris. They'd been denied, but she, the youngest and a happily declared homebody, had been sent away. One day, she might forgive him.

"You'll be a queen. That alone should be enough to make you smile." Breka grimaced at the poor attempt that creased her friend's face.

"The youngest of many." The girl stared out at the breakers, now riding with the ship as they tacked into the harbor. "Father couldn't even tell me how many wives this man has."

Her elbow lodged firmly in the bride-to-be's ribs, Breka smiled sweetly. "Then just show some tears for a few trinkets and take advantage of living in far more splendor than the drafty halls you grew up in."

The shouts of the sailors as they tied up to the dock made further browbeating from her friend impossible, so Kyrie pulled her wrap around her against the breeze, which was much balmier than the wind at home. Breka rolled her eyes at the dramatic gesture, but she followed as Kyrie headed back to her cabin to get ready for debarkation.

Once the ship actually ceased all motion but the gentle bobbing along side the dock, the two women headed back to the deck. Dressed in her finest, Kyrie waited at the back at the procession, facing the vibrantly decorated ramp leading down onto the stone bulwark that thrust out into the bay, acting as dock for the white-walled city rising behind it. She laced her fingers together, clasping them in front of her waist. She tried not to betray her relief that the trembling in her stomach was not visible to others.

A sharp pinch on her arm and a hissed "Smile!" drew her attention back to the approaching retinue. As she struggled to summon any kind of festive expression, she heard Breka whisper, "Remember storming the castle."

Unbidden, a grin graced her face as memories of stick swords and reed arrows flooded her mind. Glancing over at her best friend, she saw a matching smile on her face. With her courage bolstered, Kyrie straightened and lifted her head. As the entourage boarded the ship, she faced her future husband with more fortitude than she had imagined that she could summon.

He was not handsome. That surprised her, but she could tell from his posture and his easy grin that he knew that he could have any woman he wanted in spite of his looks. Kyrie stared at him, meeting his gaze with surprise.

"A thousand welcomes to your new home, Kyrie Adassa, the seventh daughter of a seventh son, daughter of the High Shield of Mithlaris." His hand reached for hers in the formal greeting that she had seen her father use infrequently, and she summoned the strength to keep her own hand from shaking.

"I accept your welcome, King Arlexus of the House of Leoda, Ruler of Onarias and Heir to the Third Dynasty of the Jopha and the throne of Andothorn," she said, allowing her grin to become a little more genuine now that she had the formalities out of the way. She allowed him to take her hand and lead her down the ramp. There were more people than she had ever seen in her life crowded along the dock, and she inhaled several quick breaths, trying to quell the fear that returned. Arlexus glanced at her with amusement. "Is it the motion that you fear, or the unknown?"

Hearing the undertone to his words, she forced a wan smile. "I'm not used to so many people," she said truthfully, unsure of whether he was teasing her or mocking her.

"Yes, your little island is... quaint," he said with a smirk. "To be honest, I never expected something so beautiful to be found in such a rustic setting."

Kyrie's grin slipped away as she identified the contemptuous tone. "Mithlaris is a jewel, my lord. Our copper mines are the most productive in Nionosea, and our weavers are second to none."

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh. "I see that my precious dove can be roused to show her claws." Squeezing her hand, he leaned toward her so his words would go no further than her ear. "I meant no offense to your beloved homeland, my precious. I have the fault of arrogance." A condescending smile met her bemused expression. "Should I not admit my faults? They are mine, after all. I daresay no one will oppose that assessment."

Confusion allowed her to slip into silence that lasted until Arlexus escorted her into a carriage more luxurious than anything she had ever imagined. Sinking back into the seat, she ran her hands over the silken cushions, letting the cool fabric caress her fingers. The gold and silver threads that trimmed the perfect white pillows glittered in the sun, and she gasped as she saw the dusky shine along the wide windows. "You trim your coach with copper?"

"Of course. Nothing but the very best." He reclined in his seat and watched in amusement at her astonished assessment of things he took for granted. "The wealth of the entire world passes through Caer Anthis at one time or another."

Thoroughly intimidated by the scale implied, Kyrie fell silent and focused her attention outside the carriage. People still thronged along the streets as they moved away from the docks. "Why are they out there?" she asked before she could censor the question.

An indulgent smile lingered on his face as he indolently played with a curl that had fallen loose. "It's not every day that their king marries his seventh wife."

"Seventh?" Her mouth formed the word but no voice projected. She cleared her throat. "Why so many?"

"Several reasons, my dear. Firstly, I am a man, and I seldom reject beauty that crosses my path." His grin edged more toward a leer as he noticed her blush. "Secondly, and most importantly, the omens favored this particular union. It's of great benefit to the kingdom if the liege lord sires a son from seven different women."

"And how many sons do you have now?"

"Six."

The insinuation was clear, and again she blushed, but this time, she shifted away from him as subtly as she could. Even though she strove to keep her movements unnoticed, she felt his gaze on her and knew he was laughing at her again.

"Don't worry, my dove. I won't be ravishing you here in the coach. The wedding night will be properly administered _after_ the wedding."

Kyrie tried several times before the word finally came out. "When?"

Arlexus sighed and looked away. "Not for another week." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Here I thought I had a feisty one – a woman with character and fight." Glancing at her, he rolled his eyes. "Here's to getting another lamb in the bed."

Color rose in her cheeks again, but there was no modesty involved with this flush. Pure anger prompted her response. "I didn't realize I was a commodity to be traded, my lord."

Her words caught his attention again, and his gaze took her measure before he turned away. "We are all commodities, my gem. Only the intelligent barter for their betterment." With those words, he ignored her for the rest of the trip.

### ~~~~

Kyrie did not see Breka again until she had gone through a cursory tour of the palace. When she was finally shown into her suite of rooms, she found her friend asleep on the massive bed. Torn between irritation and amusement, Kyrie decided that she had experienced enough of the negative emotions today and smiled. Breka had obviously directed the servants who had brought in her trunks, because she saw personal items already set in place on the vanity and on the tables beside the bed. Collapsing on one of the half dozen reclining couches, she sighed and let the stress of the exceedingly long day seep into the lavish pillows beneath her.

"Why didn't you wake me when you came in?"

Kyrie startled awake and blinked blearily at an irate Breka looming over her. "What?"

"We overslept, and we need to get you dressed for your feast tonight. I'm already ready, so let's get to work on you." Without waiting for an answer, her friend and now personal lady seized her hand and pulled her upright. Breka led her into a room that Kyrie had not noticed before, a room that held what seemed like acres of clothes. Her own wardrobe took up only a tiny selection of what occupied the room. "So, familiar or do we splurge tonight?"

Leftover exhaustion vanished as Kyrie stared in fascination at the enormous selection of clothes at her disposal. "I can wear any of it?" she asked.

Breka laughed. "Of course! I told you, you're going to be a queen. So choose something queenly. Other than this, of course," she said, pointing to what could only be her wedding dress.

The opulence of the creation took Kyrie's breath away. She drifted toward it, barely daring to touch the pale lavender concoction of cloudy material. "I don't even know what it's made of," she whispered.

"It's gauze. Apparently it's a specialty from Andothorn. Isn't it divine?" Breka lifted a panel and let it drape over her arm. "I may have to have a dress made of this, too." She grinned impishly at the queen-to-be's expression. "What? I can't look like a poor relation and serve a queen, now can I?"

"Of course not," Kyrie said, adopting as regal an air as she could. "I absolutely insist that my personal lady is dressed as well as I am. Well, nearly so, anyway."

"Nearly so?" Taking the bait, Breka whirled on her friend, grabbing her in a hug and tackling her to the floor as they did as children. Two things became immediately apparent. The cool tile floor was much harder than the thickly carpeted wooden floors of their home, and wrestling in formal clothes was more destructive than the casual clothes they used to wear, because a very audible rip halted the play instantly.

They both gazed wordlessly at the parted seam on Kyrie's dress. With a long sigh, Breka shook her head. "I'll have one of the servants mend this tomorrow." She stood gracefully and offered her friend a hand. "Shall we choose a gown for dinner tonight, my lady?"

"We shall."

After careful consideration, Kyrie, with Breka's guidance, selected a deep red silk, similar in texture to the heavy wool brocades produced by her homeland's own weavers. The design, however, varied greatly from the simple layers she had worn growing up. This dress bared her arms and shoulders, allowing a bit of the wispy gauze material to float elegantly from the collar to her elbows while hugging her figure in a more mature manner than she was accustomed. Even with the differences, Kyrie loved it. The huge mirror reflected an image of a grown woman, a woman who would be a queen in a few days.

There were two women servants who were ushered in, one bearing gifts of jewels to complement the chosen gown and one ready to coiffure her hair. Breka stood back and watched the transformation from sleep-rumpled best friend to elegant royalty.

Kyrie had a moment of pleasure watching one servant bedeck her with a heavy amber and ruby necklace, but the other brushed her hair so firmly she felt tears prickle at the tugging. Protests were ignored as her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a tight knot on the top of her head, with the length of it cascading through the twist and falling in natural soft ringlets over her shoulder. It was like nothing she had ever seen, but once completed, she admitted that it flattered her and added to the mature mien.

A quick turn to face Breka was all the confirmation that she needed. "You look stunning," Breka whispered to her. Sinking into a graceful obeisance, she said, "Let us not be late for dinner."

Their entrance to the dining room brought the buzz of conversation nearly to a halt. The women looked around, taking in all the stares – the admiring, the leering, and the jealous.

"Ladies and gentlemen of my court, may I present my seventh wife, Kyrie Adassa of Mithlaris, daughter of Edol, ruler of the Waystone Citadel and High Shield of Mithlaris." Arlexus's introduction altered few of the stares, although the leers did grow in number. He rose to escort her to her place at the long table where he and what were obviously his other wives and a few select guests had already taken their places.

Names may have escaped in the myriad of introductions, but Kyrie retained an accurate accounting of envious and hateful faces. The only one of the six wives that showed her any indication of neutrality was his fourth wife, Jolana. Her greeting was merely calculating rather than aggressive or dismissive, which accounted for the other five. The names Zaela and Lynnia stuck, but Kyrie could not recall which women paired with the names.

Once she was finally allowed to take her seat, servants bore the food out on huge platters. Her silver plate was loaded with tidbits and delicacies, most of which she could not identify. A quick glance at Breka, who had been seated several tables away, revealed her chatting with an attractive young man. She did catch Kyrie's eye and wince at her, sympathizing with her uncomfortable situation.

Frustrated, Kyrie began trying to find something recognizable to eat. Picking at the bread, she sampled bits until she found a few things that suited her taste. The majority of the dishes were heavily spiced with something that burned her mouth intensely. She tried to ignore the snide giggles that coincided with her desperate gulps of the cool fruit drink that servants constantly kept in her goblet. There were a few things that she found that suited her palate, and she cautiously kept her plate filled with those.

Her dinner companions were of no help. There were two wives across from her, an elderly, nearly deaf gentleman on one side, and her husband-to-be on the other. Instead of conversing with her, however, Arlexus ignored her once he had introduced her. She suffered in silence.

Kyrie grew frustrated the longer the dinner went. Her options for food dwindled through the courses served, as nearly everything involved the burning spice. No one else seemed to be bothered by it; they ate with enthusiasm. Also, the juice that stayed in her glass began to sit heavily on her, and the more she drank, the warmer she got. She noticed Breka trying to catch her eye, but she never understood whatever urgent message her friend tried to communicate. By the time dessert was served, Kyrie was sick.

Some time after the fruit course, Kyrie realized that she was staring at a ceiling. It did not look like the ceiling of the dining hall, although she could not recall what that room actually looked like. It was dimly lit, and upon listening intently, she only heard one voice droning, rather than the hum of conversation earlier.

"I tried to let you know," Breka said, her face appearing in the vista of the ceiling. "I saw you drinking it, but I didn't realize it was wine until we were served."

"What was wine?" Kyrie thought she asked the question, but the voice that said those words was not hers. Was it?

The bed sagged, rolling Kyrie's head to the side as her friend sat. "It was wine they served you to drink. With dinner."

"But I've never drunk wine."

Breka wiped a cool cloth over her face, and Kyrie's eyes slowly closed. "You have now. And you will feel this one in the morning."

Her words made no sense as Kyrie tried to process them, but there was something warm and fuzzy taking over her mind, so she smiled and let it carry her into oblivion.

### ~~~~

Something heavy sat on her head, making movement impossible. Kyrie groaned and tried to push the weight off of her, since her stomach battled with her head as to which was producing the most agony. The urge to purge her stomach won, and in spite of the pain, she rolled to the edge of the bed and opened bleary eyes to search for a chamber pot.

A cool hand guided her to an appropriate position over the vessel, and Kyrie let her body cleanse itself of the poisons. She retched until there was nothing else to come up and then heaved again. After several minutes, the owner of the blessedly cool hand spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry, Kyrie. So sorry."

Cautiously rolling onto her back, she blinked the tears free from her eyes and focused on the sincerely contrite look on Breka's face. "For what?"

She took Kyrie's hand and sighed. "I thought it would be better than this. I really did. I thought all you'd need was a day or two to settle in, that getting married would be worth it." Shaking her head, she pushed a strand of hair away from her face while still keeping Kyrie's hand firmly in her other hand. "I watched him last night. It's all a big game to him. He doesn't care. And you've been thrown to the wolves."

"Can we go home then?" Kyrie asked, her words hoarse from her abraded throat.

Breka let the tears show as she shook her head again. "We're trapped, both of us. Honor will never let us back out of the bargain your father swore."

Tearing sobs ripped their way out of Kyrie. Her head hurt, her throat hurt, and all she could think was that she would never be happy again. Seeing her closest friend weep with her sealed her fears, and the misery of the last day poured out.

### ~~~~

In spite of Breka's commiseration, she only let Kyrie grieve for a day before sending her out to explore her new home. She put up a fight, complaining all the way, but once she explored the gardens, Kyrie knew that she owed her friend thanks for pushing her.

The gardens were nothing like the greenery-heavy utilitarian plots at home. While the ones at home often included local flowers, they existed to provide food and flavor, and the foliage reflected that. She wandered around in the profusion of vibrant blossoms that hugged every trellis and trailed out from their elegant pots. The fragrances filled her head and insulated her from the poisonous atmosphere elsewhere in the palace.

Gardeners moved through the space with her, but it was simple to ignore them, as part of their job was to be invisible to visitors to the space. Kyrie relaxed to the point where she could indulge in one of her private hobbies – singing. Allowing the same sort of nonsensical ditties that she had sung as a child to escape, she focused on a familiar bloom. Enjoying the trailing wild rose that proliferated in her home, she jumped and fell silent when a loud clang startled her. Staring at the servant who stared back at her in shock, Kyrie blinked and backed up, fearful that she'd somehow trespassed.

"Clumsy oaf."

The words emanating behind her jolted another fright and a gasp from her. She whirled around and faced a woman she had met before, but no name responded to her frantic mental search.

"I – I'm sorry if I intruded," Kyrie said, stumbling through her words.

A quick wave of her hand negated the apology. "The wives have free access to the gardens here. You've as much right to be here as anyone else. Nearly." A cool smile graced the exotically beautiful face. "Come, sit with me. I'm curious about you."

From the clues casually dropped, Kyrie placed the woman as one of the wives she'd been introduced to at that horrible dinner. "I haven't done much to be curious about," she said, deferring to give herself time to remember the woman's name.

"Nonsense. None of the rest of us came from so far away. I'm Jolana."

Kyrie studied her, determined to remember her for the next time she met. Long white-blonde hair paired with eyes so dark the iris and pupil blended together, making for a memorable combination. "Yo-lana," she repeated, trying to cement the name and image together. "I'm Kyrie." She perched awkwardly on the polished stone bench, trying to match the other wife's easy elegance. "So where are you from?"

"I was raised in the Jade Cairn, on the Chaos Coast."

Blinking in surprise, Kyrie said, "Your home is nearly as far away as mine."

"You've actually a longer sail, I've heard, while traveling from my home requires navigating the Sea of Chaos, landing in Vobria, and then either taking the road to Caer Anthis or sailing again," Jolana said, an amused expression on her face. "I sailed. The Glass Sea is quite safe compared to the northern waterways." She leaned back on her hand, arranging her body in a perfect lounging position.

Kyrie glanced furtively at the older wife, wishing that she could find an excuse to leave this uncomfortable encounter, but could not summon a single reason that would not be utterly rude to the only person, outside of her own retinue, who had bothered with her at all.

"What were you singing earlier?" Jolana asked after a long silence.

"What? Oh, I don't know." Kyrie flushed as an elegantly arched brow portrayed the older woman's doubt. "I mean, I really don't know. It's just nonsense – an old childhood habit of singing that I guess I was doing." She shrugged. "I didn't realize I was doing anything when you approached me."

Jolana frowned at that. "Strange."

When she failed to elaborate on that cryptic response, Kyrie looked over at her. "What's strange?"

"It just sounded like you were singing in the tongue of the nomads that travel near the southern mountains."

"Nomads?" Kyrie laughed softly. "I can't imagine why my childish nonsense sounds even close to someone else's language."

The two women let the silence fall between them again as they enjoyed the sound of the insects and birds that flittered through the garden. After a long moment, Jolana stirred. "I know your wedding is quickly approaching, so I will give you a little advice." She sat up and caught the younger woman's gaze, reaching for her hand so that Kyrie could not pull away. "Don't be foolish and look for love here. You won't find it. However, Arlexus can be generous if you serve him well. So tolerate his visits and find a way to make a life for yourself away from him."

"What do you do then?" Kyrie's eyes widened at her impetuousness.

Jolana gave a quick half-smile and patted her hand. "I've discovered over the past few years that I have quite the eye for art. Needlework and painting."

"I'd like to see it some day."

A pause preceded the soft words. "I think I'd like to show you." The older woman rose smoothly and let Kyrie's hand fall back into her lap. Gracefully, she turned and retreated from the encounter.

As she contemplated the wife's departure, Kyrie realized that Jolana was probably no more than six or seven years older than she, but the jaded words, while helpful, betrayed the bitterness Jolana carried. The advice seemed to be honest; however, there was a treacherous air that pervaded the entire place. She would need to discuss this with Breka to see what she thought of it.

She took her time, allowing the brief visit to sink in while the birdsong revived her spirit. The bench provided her with a stunning view of creamy white columns that bore brilliantly hued vines, climbing them along with the trellises built between them. The balcony above received the very top of the vines, and Kyrie allowed herself the petty privilege of envying the occupant that space.

Inhaling the heavy, humid aromas, she leaned back on the bench and closed her eyes. Peace penetrated her ragged emotional state, and drawing in long breaths and releasing them slowly aided the fragrance-enhanced tranquility. She had no idea how long she stayed there, absorbing the surroundings, but she embraced the effect. Her emotions had not been this settled since she had been informed of her father's decision.

She gasped as she opened her eyes and caught a servant staring at her. It was the same one who had dropped the tool earlier. Kyrie sat up, unsure of how to respond to the forward man, who refused to drop his gaze from hers. His behavior differed greatly from the subservient mien of the other servants she had encountered, ones who rarely met her eyes at all.

A judicious retreat seemed the wisest course, so she broke the eye contact and rose from the bench, not as gracefully as Jolana had, but it worked as she took her leave of the garden.

#### Chapter Two

Kyrie opened her eyes, knowing as she did that this was the beginning of a very long day. Today was her wedding day. Once one of the constantly scurrying servants noticed that she was awake, Breka would rush in to begin the preparations. She was so very tempted to clamp her eyes closed again and postpone this trial as long as possible, but putting it off would not do anyone any good.

Throwing off the silken coverlets, she sat up and let her hair fall around her face as she summoned all the courage she could to make the next move and actually get up. Breka helped unintentionally when she swept into the bedchamber.

"Ah, you're awake. I was going to give you a half hour, no more," she said, sweeping in like a winter storm. She put the bundle she carried carefully on the undisturbed foot of the gigantic bed before climbing up to take a seat beside her friend. Cautiously pushing the blonde hair back, she peered into Kyrie's sleepy face. "How are you this morning?"

"I didn't drink too much at last night's banquet, if that's what you mean," she said grumpily, rolling her eyes at Breka's snort. Knowing exactly what her friend was asking, she closed her eyes and sighed. "I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

Breka did not insult her by laughing, although the gentle censure carried through in her words. "Again, hardly the attitude of a bride on her wedding day," she said as she slid to the edge of the great bed.

"I told you what Jolana said," Kyrie snapped, throwing her hair back over her shoulders to glare at Breka's departing back.

"And I told you she was probably jealous." Breka stopped and sighed before turning back to bend across the bed, propping her chin into her hands as she looked at her friend and soon to be queen. "Look, Kyri, the last thing I want to do is make light of your situation. I know how you feel, I really do. But going in with this bad attitude simply cannot help the situation at all."

Kyrie did not miss the childhood nickname, and she closed her eyes and echoed Breka's sigh. She bit back the words that she wanted to scream out again, that she was marrying this man that she did not know and that she had been warned would never love her. There was no point rehashing the same arguments that had raged for the last few days. Both of them knew that no matter what was said, not one thing they said or did would change a single iota of the day's events. Trying to take the high ground, she said, "So what's on the agenda this morning?"

Breka ignored the very audible pout in those words and stood up again. "Since you're awake a bit early, we can ring for breakfast now or you can wait until after your bath. So which do you prefer?"

"Bath. I'd probably fall asleep face-first in my plate if I try to eat now."

"As you wish." She stepped over to pull the golden rope that rang the bell below. Three sharp tugs and then she turned to go into the adjoining chamber. Knowing the girl as she did, Breka silently counted to fifteen before hearing soft footfalls on the marble tiles. "Do you prefer which scent we use today?"

"No aphrodisiacs," Kyrie muttered under her breath, fully expecting to be heard. She suppressed her reflexive grin when she heard Breka's snort. Four yoked servants brought in buckets of steaming water, and within minutes, she was soaking in the huge copper tub. "Breka?" she asked once the servants had gone.

"Yes?"

Ignoring the distracted air, Kyrie wondered how to phrase the question without being taken wrong. "What kind of man makes bathtubs out of copper?"

"What? What kind of question is that?"

"I mean it. The most precious substance in the world, and this man lines his carriage windows with it and makes bathtubs out of it. Is he showing off, or is he just profligate, or what?"

Breka paused as she realized what she was asking. "Oh." Looking around the sinfully luxurious bathing chamber, she took in all the items that were not just lavish but crossed into the realm of opulence. Gold and silver trimmed even the meanest of tools – combs, brushes, hooks for towels and clothes, even the chamber pot in the corner. The observation about the tub was accurate, since most other tubs she'd seen were made of wood. The most magnificent tub in Waystone Citadel, the one that had graced the master's chambers for three generations, even it was carved from stone – the stone that her people quarried in great quantity. Yet this King Arlexus had no qualms about forming something as utilitarian as a bathtub from the one substance in Nionosea that all peoples prized above all else. The idea struck Breka as excessively wasteful, but she was not about to tell Kyrie that. "I wouldn't hazard a guess into his motives." She poured a few drops of the precious heather oil that had been brought with them from home. "Besides, you've got more important things to wor- to think about."

She bustled out of the room, aware that her presence would just encourage Kyrie's distraction. There were enough real obstacles to face today that she didn't need anything else cluttering up her mind.

Breka understood the feelings of abandonment much better than her friend suspected. She and Kyrie had been best friends since she'd moved to Waystone Citadel in her twelfth year with her mother. She had grown up on the western coast, a little no-name village closer to Linevriand than the population centers of Mithlaris. Never had a word of the tragedy that had forced her and her mother to the eastern side of the kingdom slipped out, and she planned to keep it that way.

More servants arrived, and she directed them to lay out the necessary accessories and gave them a time frame to bring up Kyrie's breakfast. She had eaten hours earlier, having been up since long before the sun had risen. After making sure that all was according to plan, she returned to Kyrie and helped her finish with her ablutions, washing her hair until it rivaled the sunlight that pooled in through the window. Assisting her from out of the tub, Breka dried the girl off and helped her into the pink silken robe and left her to eat the meal that had just been delivered.

The rest of the morning was a flurry of silk, gauze, cosmetics, and a host of other femininities as Kyrie was combed, coifed, dressed, accessorized, and painted. The final product stood motionless before the huge mirror, trying to assess what she had become.

Lavender gauze hugged her and concealed her, switching from modest and cloudlike to wanton and clingy with no more than a simple step. The cosmetics, much heavier than Kyrie had ever worn, only accentuated her smoky blue eyes and elegant features. She stared at herself in the mirror, stunned that the beautiful woman in the image really was her. This woman was more striking than even her most attractive sister, Mora, and she was the prettiest of the seven girls. Kyrie finally sucked in a breath and smiled.

"You're perfect," Breka whispered in her ear. "Now go be a bride."

They had barely gathered her flowing skirts to leave the room when her suite door opened and a grand lady swept into the room, retainers in tow. Her garments rivaled Kyrie's own, disguising the few flaws generated by advancing years and enhancing her attributes with the flair of a master seamstress. The imperious figure did not need to use clothing to augment her stature, as she towered nearly a head over the bride. However, the older woman still used every inch of her height to dominate the cavernous space.

Kyrie sank into an obeisance without willing her body to move. She felt Breka's nudge, but this woman's demeanor demanded it. "My lady?"

"My correct title is Your Eminence," the woman said. "I am Dimitriadi Ydalmis, Queen of Andothorn. I am the mother of Arlexus."

At that, even Breka swept into an elegant bow. The servants hit their knees, but with a wave of her hand, she dismissed both Kyrie's servants and her retinue. Once they were alone, she allowed them to rise. "So, you are the one who the gods determined my son should marry."

"I'm sorry, Your Eminence?" Kyrie asked, not sure of the woman's meaning.

"Kaltov, the priest. He researched your background. You're the seventh daughter of a seventh son, are you not?"

"I am."

"And the wedding is to be on the most fortuitous day of the year. Ashlar herself has blessed this day, assuring that you will be fertile and bear me more grandsons." Dimitriadi frowned down at Kyrie, who shrank back. "Have you nothing to say?"

"What's to say, my lady? It's not as if I was consulted with any of this."

"Explain yourself," the queen demanded.

Kyrie winced, silently cursing her quick tongue. At the waiting stare, she steeled herself and spoke. "My father was the one who arranged this marriage, not I. And as for the gods and their timing, we in Mithlaris rarely look to Optis, Ashlar, or any of the others. So the fact that this is a fortuitous day for anything never occurred to me." At the woman's formidable stare, she dropped into another curtsy. "Your Eminence."

An interminable silence held before a rich, melodious laugh rang out. "For the first time, I think maybe that clod of a priest did something right. You've spirit enough to bear strong sons!"

"I'm happy that you approve, my lady," Kyrie said, not quite able to disguise her sarcasm. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

A genuine smile graced the handsome face as she stepped forward to embrace the girl. "If ever you need a confidante, my daughter, feel free to come to me. I know better than anyone else what it's truly like to be in a place of power like this."

"No offense, my lady, but I'm a seventh wife. I have no power, and certainly no status. I've already been shown how lowly I am in this palace."

Dimitriadi waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense. Those jealous shrews know that their only claims to my son lie in their own sons, and yours are destined to outshine theirs. Ignore them. All they can do is to peck at others like the fowl that they are." She took Kyrie's hand. "Come, let's get you married."

With her new mother-in-law's approving presence at her side, Kyrie inhaled deeply and nodded. Breka took her place securing the long skirts from dragging the floor and followed them out the door.

### ~~~~

The ceremony was as foreign as her whole experience had been so far, but Kyrie followed along and kept pace with the appropriate responses at the appropriate times. Any time she hesitated, she kept in mind that the Queen herself supported her and that she needed to hold up her end of her father's bargain. At one point during the priest's long ramblings about signs and omens and alignments, she allowed her mind to wander and it occurred to her that she no longer looked to please her beloved father, and had not since she had departed on that cursed sea voyage. Ever since he had ignored her pleas to stay in the Citadel, she realized that her allegiance to him had waned. When she agreed to marry Tairu, the ancient clan chief from the south, he had refused that and gone on about the honor and the prestige to marry into a true royal family.

An overly exaggerated exclamation snapped her attention back to the priest. She listened for a bit more, confused as to the emphasis he put on the sun and the moons. At home, the moons were followed as they drafted out the months and the seasons, but to hear this priest speak, they were living people who laid out everyone's daily lives.

That thought made her stop and ponder. She had noticed, even if she had not really consciously thought about the ramifications, that ever since she had gotten here, she had been inundated with talk of omens and timing. Were these people really so superstitious? she wondered. She had tolerated comment after comment about how backward her people were, about what an uneducated, uncouth outsider she was. Kyrie sniffed quietly. At least her people did not pray to the moons to bless her marriage.

The priest finally drew to a close, and the couple were presented as man and wife to the nobles and favored few who were present for the ceremony before being escorted out to the balcony to be presented to the throngs outside. She cringed and tried to look regal on her new husband's arm as the crowds roared out their approval.

Kyrie smiled wryly. Maybe she could make friends among the common people, since the other wives had given her no hope of friendship within the palace. Well, that was not entirely true since Jolana had spoken plainly to her, although without offering an overt relationship. How honest her words were would have to be weighed out later.

In spite of her fears that the festivities would drag on interminably, she was pleasantly surprised to find that she enjoyed the huge feast. There were two nobles who sat at the head table with their wives, and they were much more interested in making friends with the new queen than the other wives, whose haughtiness had already erected a wall not to be breached by such lowly mortals. The thought occurred to her that the wives were an unhappy group, and that most of it was due to their own insecurities. Glancing between them all, pretending to pick at their food while whispering gossip amongst themselves, Kyrie wondered if any of them had any measure of joy in their lives at all. At that moment, she swore to herself that no matter what happened in her life here as queen, she would find something to bring contentment, no matter how small it might be.

Thoughts of Jolana's mention of painting as a pleasure drew her eyes back to the fourth wife, and she studied her. The woman sat slightly back from the others, disdaining the sniping of the other wives, at least for the moment. There was a look about her, and Kyrie could not quite put her finger on it, but if she had to guess, it was somewhere between boredom and sadness. Yes, there was something of a shadow to her demeanor that set her aside from the others.

That was enough to convince her that the scene with Jolana in the gardens was not staged. Since Kyrie watched her unobserved, she had no reason to put on an act. As soon as possible, she would approach Jolana and try to strike up a friendship. Breka was wonderful, but she was also right and staying insulated in her suite was not the way to make a new life. With that mentally settled, Kyrie turned her attention back to these other new potential friends.

Breka came to take her to her rooms to prepare her for the bedding. The two were silent in front of the servants who carefully brushed out her hair and helped her out of her wedding dress and into the prepared negligee, but once the women were finished and had been excused, Breka sank to her knees in front of the queen and stared at her.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked quietly, Kyrie's hands clasped tightly within her own.

A wry smile half twisted her lips as she stared down into the earnest face of the person dearest to her. "Do I really have any choice?" Kyrie answered softly. "Yes, I am prepared with all the information that I can glean at what will happen physically. Am I really ready for the huge change that will take over my life? No, not really." She stopped to summon a much more genuine smile. "But that would have been the case had I chosen my own husband and married for love. So, the answer for you is yes, I am as ready as I can be." Pulling her hands free, she leaned forward and pulled Breka into a tight hug. "As long as I have you by my side, I honestly think I can face anything."

An unsure smile ghosted across Breka's face, and her eyes glassed over. "I only hope that I can live up to your faith in me, Kyri." They remained like that until a commotion outside the door alerted them to Arlexus's arrival.

"Be brave," Breka whispered fiercely. "It's not as bad as you imagine." With those words, she pulled away and hurried out the door, leaving Kyrie alone to face her new husband.

Arlexus stood in the huge portal, framed perfectly by the light in the corridor. He wore the smile of someone supremely confident in what was about to happen, but instead of reassuring Kyrie, it set her nerves to jangling. She suppressed a shudder as he strolled in, leaving the door to be closed against the entourage outside by one of his many servants.

He crossed the room and ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. "Still frightened, my little rabbit? Or have you grown claws yet?" He pulled her to her feet and gently held her face. "Or have you grown up and are ready to become a woman?"

Kyrie woke sometime in the night. She could hear the normal sounds of the palace, the soft slap of a servant's slippers as he made his rounds. There were a few night birds that cooed back and forth at each other. And her new husband snored beside her.

Rising quietly and pulling on the robe that had been laid out for her, she stepped outside onto her balcony. She inhaled the night air deeply, allowing the uniquely nocturnal smells to wash away some of her confusion.

She was truly wedded and bedded now, and in one way, she felt like nothing had changed, but another part of her trembled at the implications of her new life. Arlexus had been surprisingly gentle and patient with her, easing her through her first time, although she strongly suspected it had more to do with him maintaining his image of an excellent lover rather than any actual consideration for her. However, she felt like she owed him something for reducing the stress of what could have been a disastrous situation and making it tolerable. Kyrie could not actually say that she liked it, but performing her wifely duties to him would be a chore that she could do without hesitation, albeit without an excess of enthusiasm. Shaking her head, she wondered what it was about that particular act that men enjoyed so much. Other than the necessity of procreation, she could not see what made it so desirable that men wished to do it constantly.

The frustration of that train of thought forced a sigh from her, and she puffed out air, blowing the hair back from her face. Falling back on childhood habits, she hummed, under her breath at first, but as the nonsense syllables came to her, she let them out.

"Where did you learn that song?"

Kyrie yipped in fright as she whirled and faced her barely clothed husband. He leaned against the door to the balcony, staring at her. His expression was inscrutable, the low light of the lamps casting odd shadows across his face. "What?" she finally asked, not sure if she had insulted him or not.

"That song. That's in the tongue of the nomads on the far eastern Chaos Coast, but I've never heard that song before."

She shrugged. "It's not – I don't know what you mean. I've never met any people from that far away."

"Then where did you learn that song?"

"I just – it's an old habit. I just make up songs. Nonsense stuff." She watched him cautiously, but he gave no indication of his reaction. "Did you understand it?"

He nodded. "Most of it, what I could hear. That's what woke me." Reaching out and grabbing a lock of her dark blonde hair that fluttered in the night air, he rolled it between his fingers before dropping it. "You have a nice voice. I was just surprised when I heard you singing in their tongue."

"What do you think I sang?" she asked, an urge prompting her to ask even when she preferred that the subject be dropped.

He paused for a long, tense moment before speaking. " _When blood reigns in the sky, the depths will refuse to yield their treasure_." Staring at her, he asked, "So, what does that mean to you?"

She laughed nervously. "Not a thing. I told you, I make up nonsense. It was a habit I began as a child, and I guess I still do it. To be honest, I hadn't even realized I was singing." Shrugging, she stepped back to rest against the railing. "That's why you scared me so badly. I was just lost in my thoughts."

Arlexus allowed one of his smirks to appear as he contemplated his new wife. "There are many secrets to unearth about you, I think. Let's hope it will be beneficial to both of us." Without excusing himself, he turned and gathered his robe and draped it over his shoulders before walking to the door. "Good night, my dear."

Kyrie stared at the empty room. She had no idea what just happened, but she had the strangest feeling that she had revealed something about herself that pleased Arlexus. Shivering as a cool gust of wind whirled around her, she climbed back into her bed and pulled the silken covers over her. The soft depths did little to warm her, and she tried to pin down the exact moment that she had erred, but nothing came to mind, and her body demanded the rest that she'd interrupted with her musings and went to sleep.

### ~~~~

Breka was unnaturally quiet the next morning as she assisted with Kyrie's toilet. She tried to catch Breka's gaze, but the bustling and interfering servants kept them at a distance. Even once the servants left, Breka immediately launched into the schedule for the day.

"You have the option of breakfasting in your room or joining your husband for a more formal one. I would love to suggest you eat in here, but I think it might be politically expedient for you to make an early showing." Breka nodded at Kyrie's disgusted sigh, but she knew that it was also one of acceptance. "Then after that, you have an appointment with the first wife, Zaela. It will be in her quarters."

"What does she want?" Kyrie asked. "It's not like I can leave and go home now. I'm good and truly stuck with this."

"Maybe she wants to make peace?" Breka's shrug was eloquent in its doubt of that notion, but she continued. "Then Her Eminence Dimitriadi has scheduled you for the remainder of the day, at least until the evening meal. There will be one more feast, although not as grand as yesterday. We will be seeing off several of the emissaries that were here for the wedding, as well as Her Eminence. She will be sailing back to her own throne."

"Do you know where she rules from? I'm not sure I've ever heard it mentioned," Kyrie asked.

"I think I heard that her capital city is Crynmarth." Breka finished adjusting Kyrie's accoutrements and helped her to her feet. "I wish we could hide in here for a few days, but under the circumstances..."

"I know. I have to go play queen now."

"No."

Kyrie stared at her. "No what?"

"You will not play at being queen. You _are_ a queen." Placing both hands along Kyrie's face, Breka stared into her eyes as if trying to pierce her soul. "Don't ever play at anything. You are a queen. So be a queen." She held Kyrie until she received a shaky nod. "Good." She hugged her tightly. "Let's go eat, then. I'm starved."

Laughing at such a banal non sequitur, Kyrie grabbed Breka's hand. "Then let us go and feed that rumbling stomach of yours. By the way, I have to thank you for making friends with the cooks in the kitchen. I'm finally starting to get used to the spicy stuff, but having a lot more of our own foods has helped tremendously."

"Anything for you, my queen."

### ~~~~

It was a good thing they entered the great hall with such levity, because they were parted at the seating. Arlexus kept Kyrie at his side at the head table, having banished all the other wives to lower tables. Since Breka was seated with them, she was receiving the petulant backlash of angry wives. She caught Kyrie's sympathetic expression and shrugged resignedly.

Kyrie was not faring any better. Her tablemates were the emissaries from Tharloriand, even farther away than Jolana's home of the Jade Cairn. Ever since Arlexus had made the introductions, she had tried to be pleasant to them, but there was a tension ruling the table.

"Have you ever traveled east?" the ambassador asked politely.

Blushing because she realized she could not remember his name even though she had been introduced to him, Kyrie answered him quietly. "Not yet. I had never left Mithlaris before I traveled here. Although I understand your home is much closer to my home than here." She glanced at Arlexus, who reclined easily and seemed to be focused on his fruit-laden plate. However, she felt his gaze weighing on her as she tried to get through this meal. "I hope to be able to travel more, though."

"Oh, my dear, we will travel soon. You'll see." He smiled easily at the ambassador. "I have every intention of bringing my lovely new bride to see your holdings, Jasmer. How soon is a matter best left up to the gods." The two men laughed easily.

She had the distinct impression that Arlexus knew that she could not remember the man's name and had taunted her with it. Dropping her gaze to her plate, she focused on the array of fruits and sweet pastries.

"Don't mind the men," a soft feminine voice murmured close to her ear. "They always do that sort of thing, and it's best to learn quickly how to ignore it."

Kyrie looked over and noticed that Jasmer's wife had traded seats with someone to draw near. Blinking quickly, she summoned the woman's name from the overflow of identities she had absorbed over the last week. "And what is that, Pira?"

Pira laughed. "Showing off."

A smile flickered across her face and she looked toward the other woman. "How long have you been married?"

"Too long," Pira said with another laugh. "But sometimes, it seems like no time at all. Nearly twenty years, all told."

"Twenty years?" Kyrie echoed, trying to imagine that but failing.

Pira patted her hand. "You'll get there one day, my dear. In the beginning, just take one day at a time."

Emboldened by the woman's genuinely friendly demeanor, Kyrie relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the meal rather than enduring it. Once Arlexus dismissed her with a wave of his hand, Kyrie asked a servant to guide her to the first wife's suite. Inhaling deeply, she allowed the servant to admit her into Zaela's domain.

#### Chapter Three

Dimitriadi welcomed her new daughter with open arms. "I see you survived the night," she said, ushering Kyrie into the luxurious guest suite. Without bothering to wait for an answer, she waved her hand toward several comfortable chairs and recliners. "I want to get to know you. Sit, sit."

Kyrie perched on a chair and settled the skirts of the lovely day dress that Breka had selected. "I'm sorry, I really haven't lived a very exciting life. Well, up until the last week."

"Nonsense! You've lived a life as foreign to me as I'm sure you find our customs." The older woman stretched out and put her feet up on a small footstool. "I've never been to Mithlaris. Start by describing the city you grew up in."

A deep breath later and the new bride launched into a description of the Waystone Citadel with its craggy cliffs and crashing waves, the smooth pearl gray stone that constructed the outer walls, the warm wooden rooms within her father's house. She told of growing up the youngest of seven girls, of meeting Breka and becoming best friends, and of neighbors and other city dwellers. After talking for nearly an hour, she realized she had completely monopolized the conversation. Dimitriadi waved off her apologies.

"I asked for it, and to be honest, I found it all quite fascinating." Another wave of her bejeweled hand had servants rushing forward to serve juice and tasty-looking tidbits. "I need to travel there. Will your father accept me as a visitor?"

"Of course, my lady."

"No more of that. Feel free to call me Dee." She grinned conspiratorially. "Only my closest friends are granted that privilege, and I see us becoming fast friends."

Kyrie nodded, too overwhelmed to generate a proper response to that. Nibbling and sipping, she let the silence draw out for a bit before she summoned her nerve. "May I ask a question?"

"By all means. No need to ask permission. Just say it," Dee said with a broad smile and a wink.

"What's so special about me that I was chosen? I mean, is it really that uncommon to have girls with the same birth order as I have?"

The older woman let her smile fade as she considered the question. "To be honest, I was only peripherally involved in the decision. I agreed with it, though." She sipped from the goblet and met Kyrie's gaze frankly. "Negotiations with your father have been going on for several years, but it was only in the last year that you were mentioned as joining the two families."

"Father was negotiating for years? Negotiating for what?"

"Copper, mostly. A few of your looms to try to set up our own weaving craft, although I have to admit, we haven't had much success in Crynmarth. Or here, for that matter."

The younger woman nodded. "Weaving is best suited to woolens, and it's too hot here to try to sit and work with wool all day."

"That's not entirely true, although you are right, for the most part. Certainly the craftsmanship that your people produce is stunning, although very few here along the coast wear or use the heavy material. However, we have had some small success weaving in smaller threads, like some cottons and silks. The brocades are quite lovely, but extremely rare."

Realizing that they had strayed from her question, Kyrie directed it back. "But why me? Really?"

"For the same reason I gave you yesterday. The omens align to make taking you as a seventh wife fortuitous." Dee leaned forward on one elbow to stare at her daughter-in-law. "I realize your people might not find much use in our beliefs, but the people of Onarias and the people of Andothorn have both followed our pantheon for centuries." She allowed a slight smile to ease the sober expression. "I believe that whatever sons you bear will play in immense role in the leadership of this world."

"You mean kingdom," Kyrie corrected.

"World. Since Arlexus is my heir as well as for his father, who ruled Onarias for many years, he will, in effect, rule nearly half of this civilized world when I pass on." Laughing heartily, she reached for another tidbit. "Although I plan to live out a full and long life before I go, so unfortunately for him, he'll have to wait for a while. That does mean that your sons will have time to grow up, though."

Shaking her head, the younger woman shifted in her seat. "I'm sorry, but I still don't see how any sons I have will make any difference at all to succession. Arlexus has many children, and all of them older. How could my children possibly inherit? At most, they'll be a burden to whoever inherits."

Dee licked her fingers delicately before answering. "Is that how your people handle inheritance? Oldest son gets it, the rest are on their own?"

"Not quite. Oldest child. My sister Liena is my father's heir. Then when she replaces my father, she will be responsible for the rest of us, although her job will be easier with only sisters, and all but one of us have been married off and are not part of the family household. Only my sister Bettany has not married, but there were negotiations underway when I left."

That caught her mother-in-law's attention. "Really? Women inherit as well as men?"

"Of course. It's always been that way, although my father is the first in nearly ten generations to not have a son first. Or at all." Kyrie grinned. "It's been many years since a woman has held the Citadel. We're looking forward to the change." She threw a canny glance at the older woman. "Besides, aren't you ruling? How did you inherit the throne?"

"Ah, but there's a difference. I am twice widowed." She sat up and refreshed her goblet. "Mine is an unusual situation. I was simply a younger daughter of one of the Jopha nobles when I married Arba, Arlexus's father. He was much older than I, and it was a political marriage. I never even expected either my son or I to rise to any sort of power at that point, since Arba had two already grown heirs in front of my son, and like you, I was a younger wife. Number three, actually.

"However, when Arlexus was just an infant, Arba's second son Manu was killed in a chariot accident. One of the horses stepped in a hole and it twisted the chariot sideways, throwing Manu out and crushing him when it landed on him." She grimaced. "It was a terrible tragedy. The poor boy's mother was dreadfully grieved, so much so that she had to be packed back home and her father's house kept her. I believe she died several years ago. Poor woman." Shaking her head, she sighed. "And then not two years later, Arba's first son and heir, Rana, was lost at sea during a horrendous storm. Arba himself couldn't handle the loss of yet another son, his favored first son, and put to sea himself to find Rana. Neither one of them returned."

Kyrie brushed against the tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said, trying to keep her tears at bay. "What a tragic time."

"Yes, made all the worse by the fact that the new heir was a toddler." Dee leaned back and made herself comfortable to finish the story. "I suddenly became a regent, and my baby was to be raised and trained up to rule. However, as a young wife – you must remember I was only nineteen at the time – I had very little say in my own son's upbringing. So once he turned five and was officially turned over to the priests and advisors to raise, I left. I went back home to Crynmarth and joined my father's house again, since I wasn't allowed to raise my son. Frankly, I like to think I'd have done a better job training him, but that's a story for another day.

"When I was twenty-five, I again married, but this time I was married to a distant cousin, Mikalim. He was brother to the king of Andothorn, Nikol. Again I moved into a palace, but this time was a little different. Mika and I had married for love." Dee's eyes closed as she fell silent under the weight of her memories. "Ah, Mika. There was a man." She opened her eyes and met Kyrie's concerned gaze.

"What happened to him?"

"Poor man, he became King." Laughing ruefully, she sought a piece of fruit and ate slowly before continuing with her tale. "Nikol was not a good King. He was too rough, too absolute. No empathy for the people. That's not to say he was unfair. But I believe to this day that if he'd had a little more sympathy, things could have turned out differently. However, life doesn't often grant second chances, and poor Nikol never got his. An epidemic broke out, brought in from the wharves. It swept through Crynmarth quickly. Not everyone who got sick died, but nearly half did. Nikol, Mika, and I all got sick when some of our servants brought it into the palace." She paused. "Nikol didn't make it. He died after being ill for nearly a week. With no heir, Mika was crowned in his stead. And all of a sudden, I'm a queen again."

Kyrie shuddered. "I would never want to be Queen." A grim smile crossed her face. "The advantage of being a seventh wife, I assume. Six more in front of me."

"Well, to be fair, the Onarians does not allow for queens. They can't even act as regents for underage sons over the age of five, so you're safe here. However, while the Andothorians aren't quite as enlightened as your people, they do allow for the occasional female ruler." Dee stretched and shifted before continuing. "Mika ruled for almost ten years. We tried desperately for a child, but Arlexus was destined to be my only one. Then Mika was injured in that stupid accident." This hesitation Kyrie understood, since she heard the tears in the woman's voice. "Racing his horse. His horse spooked when a servant's horse reared, and Mika was thrown." Clearing her throat, Dee took a few sips and continued slowly. "His legs were horribly broken, and something was damaged in his back. He was in dreadful pain, and the priests could do nothing for him other than give him herbs to make him sleep." There was another long pause and drink before she finished. "They gave him too much. It seemed that there was a mistake and two different doses were given within an hour of each other. He went to sleep and never woke up."

This time the older woman did not even try to stop the tears, and Kyrie cried along with her. "And then you became Queen?"

A jerky nod answered her question. "After he died, the very priests who were supposed to heal my husband came to me to inform me that they would be leaving within the hour to try to find the next male heir, a grand-nephew or some such relation. I reminded them that I had a direct heir." She smiled grimly. "They had conveniently, perhaps willfully, forgotten about Arlexus, since he had only visited once in all those years. And as the Queen had a legitimate heir, one of Jopha descent, they had to concede that I would keep the throne. Not that they were happy that I knew about that little loophole, but Mika had educated me on that fact in case something ever happened to him, like had happened to Nikol.

"I'm glad he did. Being Queen isn't something I aspired to, but I've ruled for years and my people seem to be happy and prospering. I've opened up trade with Onarias and Linevriand far more than had ever been before, and Arlexus has been educated in his role as my heir as well as ruling here." Leaning toward her daughter-in-law, Dee spoke her next words intently. "Don't ever sell yourself short. You are strong. And you will do wondrous things."

Unsure of how to handle that, Kyrie quickly drained her goblet and refilled it before asking about some of Arlexus's background. His mother was thrilled to be able to share anecdotes about his time as a child and stories she had heard of incidents from after him assuming the throne. The rest of the day passed in laughter and sharing, and when Kyrie went back to her room to dress for dinner, she was happy and secure in the fact that she had made a fast friend with her mother-in-law.

#### Chapter Four

Life settled down into something resembling a normal schedule as emissaries returned to their own homes. Dee left also, and Kyrie missed her. However, her new life filled her time.

Since she was the least among the wives, the first wife Zeala had informed her, the actual responsibility for entertaining and greeting guests and nobles visiting their husband fell to the more senior wives. That did not bother Kyrie at all, and she graciously accepted that ruling. It did not work out that way, since Arlexus happily paraded his omen-blessed seventh wife on many occasions, much to the older wives' dismay. The jealousy of the middle wives provided the youngest queen with many an opportunity to hide in her suite or the gardens. Kyrie took to avoiding any contact at all between meals, even going so far as hiding in her bathing chambers or wardrobe and letting Breka make her excuses for being out and about in the palace.

One wife in particular was vindictive beyond the others. Most of the others, aside from Jolana who simply ignored Kyrie in public, kept their venom restricted to a few well-placed and quiet insults or snide looks. They tended to band together, and it did not take long for the youngest queen to see that Dee had been correct in her assessment; they were jealous. However, the second wife, Hirtha, went beyond that.

By the end of her third month as a married woman, Kyrie had become aware that Hirtha or her servants would follow her if she left her suite. In fact, Breka had complained to her about suspicious damage to clothes in the wardrobe – seams carefully picked apart, smears and stains that had not been there earlier, and other minor, easily missed damage that appeared after the clothes had been cleaned and put away. Breka obtained permission to utilize another servant as a guard for Kyrie's rooms so that they were never empty. The damage stopped, but other things appeared instead.

Kyrie had to be diligent in never allowing her schedule to be the same when she did venture beyond her rooms. After sitting on one bench in the gardens for several days, she discovered that the seat had been damaged – deliberately, she discovered after it had collapsed under her. Fortunately, she escaped with only a long scrape down her leg. Other incidents that she would have simply written off as accidents became suspicious in light of her own episodes. One of the seats at the head table, one that Kyrie had occupied only that day at the midday meal, had suddenly collapsed under the weight of the rotund noble who took that chair for the evening meal. Arlexus was suitably apologetic, and since the man had not been hurt, the accident had been laughed off. Kyrie and Breka had exchanged looks, though, and added it to another of the strange occurrences.

There was also a beehive that had been broken open outside her balcony, although normally no hives were anywhere near her wing of the palace. This time Arlexus banished the servants in charge of the beehives, although Kyrie suspected that they had nothing to do with it. There was also an invasion of ants, the biting ones, into her suites. Upon further investigation, someone had carefully drizzled a sticky substance, probably honey, down the wall leading onto her balcony. Breka had it cleaned up before the situation got intolerable.

Through it all, Kyrie tried to keep an optimistic perspective on the whole thing. She was a queen, albeit a junior one, and she would not be cowed by such pettiness. There were many ways around this, and with Breka as her co-conspirator, the two women gleefully plotted some harmless revenge. Hirtha was not a petite woman, and she tended to sit in the same chair night after night to enjoy the evening's entertainment. A little adjustment was all that was needed, and that night's amusement included laughter at Hirtha's expense, as her chair collapsed and sent her rolling over backward, feet flying in the air and showing more than a queen should. The roaring laughter from the dinner crowd sufficed to send the woman running for her rooms in disgrace. No one looked at Kyrie as the culprit, and to her credit, she had not laughed at the other woman's misery, ignoring the spectacle as much as possible and concentrating instead on the acrobats who took up their act as the laughter faded.

As she glanced around afterward, the only ones she noticed looking at her were Arlexus with an approving look on his face and one of the guests for dinner, an older man whose name she had not heard. His expression was much more difficult to read, and she looked away quickly. Hirtha did not return after dinner, and later Kyrie would realize that the incidents stopped after that night.

That night was one of the nights that Arlexus did not join her, so although it was after dark, she took a lamp out on the balcony with her and relaxed in the cool evening air. Her sewing project sat on her lap, for the most part forgotten, as she watched the stars above twinkle and appear.

"A lovely night, my lady."

She jumped at the masculine voice. Looking around, she saw that she was still alone on her terrace, but someone was nearby. She peered over the railing and saw the older man from dinner staring up at her.

"Good evening," she stammered out.

He smiled. "Yes, it is. Would you care to walk with me through the gardens?"

Her mouth opened to say yes before she realized what time it was. "I believe it's a bit late for that, sir," she said softly, smiling to take the sting out of the rejection.

"Tomorrow, then," he said. "I will be a perfect gentleman, and we can converse then."

Kyrie shrugged her robe around her, making sure she was decently covered. "If you wish. Would right after breakfast be suitable?"

"Imminently. I will await you by the eastern door." He bowed gracefully and continued on his way.

She sat back in her chair, taken aback by the offer. Very few of the men who visited her husband paid the least bit of attention to her, particularly the ones who had never been introduced to her directly. Smiling ruefully, she realized that she still did not know his name.

When Breka same in to wake her the next morning, she corrected that omission and had her search out information on him while she ate. This was one of the few mornings during the week that there was no formal gathering for breakfast, and she enjoyed these private moments, especially since her husband was not joining her. By the time she had the servants clear away from the meal, Breka was back with her information.

"Well?" Kyrie asked the second the door closed behind the last of the servants.

"His name is Neiren. He's from Andothorn, just like your mother-in-law, but from the western side." Her eyes shone as she imparted the most important bit of news. "He's also the Seer."

Kyrie blinked in surprise. "The Seer? Really?"

"Yes," Breka gushed. "Apparently this is his first visit here since Arlexus's coronation. He wasn't expected, simply dropped by." Her voice dropped to a hush as she continued. "They say he's here because he has a message to deliver. To another of his kind."

"His kind?" the queen frowned. "What do you mean, his kind?"

"You know, like him. Not a Seer but one of the other Anointed."

She pondered on that. "But wouldn't we know if one of the other Anointed was here? I mean, we've been here long enough to know nearly everyone in the palace."

"I guess not." Breka leaned back from her conspiratorial pose and sighed. "But wouldn't it be something if we did have one of the Anointed here? Can you imagine having that kind of power?"

"Absolutely not. I hate it that Arlexus trots me out like a show pony just because of my birth order," Kyrie said. A grin lit her face. "Maybe it's you, and I'm supposed to pass a message onto you in secret."

Breka blushed slightly and ducked her head. "I'm sure it's not me. He probably needs something from your husband and wants you as the favored wife to help him get it."

"Favored wife? Ugh." The queen sighed heavily. "I can't wait until his attention turns elsewhere. Being shown off like a bauble is tiring."

"Well, hurry up and conceive. That should turn his eye elsewhere."

"I would if I could, if I thought that would work." Kyrie heaved another sigh. "It's not like I'm trying not to conceive. It's just nothing has happened yet." She shook her head and smiled. "No use bemoaning nature. It will happen when the Ancient decides it is time. Now, escort me down to the eastern gate of the gardens, please. I have a Seer to speak to."

Fifteen minutes later, Kyrie stood regally, waiting beside the great arched gate. This was the entrance from the public area of the palace, the crossroads of the two wings of the palace. She had come from the east wing, which split into two wings of its own. The north wing of it housed the queens, while the south wing contained the guest quarters. The west wing of the palace housed Arlexus, his private quarters, and his meeting rooms and throne room. The main body of the palace included the great hall, the dining hall, and the public reception areas, while north of that lay the extensive gardens, a massive courtyard that occupied at least half the palace. Bounded by the queens' wing on the east and the king's wing on the west, it stretched from the junction of the wings all the way to the wall of servants' quarters on the north. Staring out into the gardens, she noticed for the first time how fortunate she was to have a suite that faced into the gardens, rather than outside the palace. There were only four balconies for the queens that on the inner walls, and while she recalled that one of them was Zaela's as the first wife, there were two others for which she could not account.

"You look deep in thought, my lady."

She jumped and whirled at the voice behind her. "I must apologize, my lord Neiren. I was lost in idle observations."

"No observation is ever idle or useless. Examining what our eyes show us and having the wisdom to interpret these views is what truly sets us apart from the animals." He bowed deeply to her. "I see you have done some examining on your own, since you greeted me by name."

Kyrie blushed. "I realize that I agreed to meet with you and did not even know your name, so I took the time to remedy that fact." She dropped into a slight obeisance. "I've never met an Anointed before."

Smiling broadly, Neiren offered his arm and escorted her onto the garden path. "My dear lady, I have no doubt that you will meet other Anointed before long."

"Oh?"

He chuckled at the heavily weighted question housed in the one word. "I am quite certain of that. Even if you weren't who you are, you are still the wife of a powerful ruler. That will undoubtedly bring you into contact with many strange and wonderful people."

"I have met many powerful people, but there are few that I would identify as strange and wonderful," she said, casting a careless glance around at the blossoms beside the path.

"I daresay that your husband's mother would fall into that category."

A smile brightened her face. "I take your point." She allowed the conversation to lull until they reached a point not far from where he had issued his invitation the night before. "I assume there is a point to your request to speak with me," she said quietly.

"There always is." He took a seat on one of the benches and leaned back, allowing his open gaze to meet hers. "How much do you know about the Anointed?"

"As much as anyone else, I imagine. Five people chosen to harbor special powers to work for the good of Nionosea." She shivered slightly. "You are said to be the Seer, looking into the future to tell people what they should and shouldn't do to upset the good of the world."

Neiren rubbed his hand over his mouth, and Kyrie got the impression he was doing so to hide a smile. She raised her brows and stared at him until he spoke. "I suppose that is accurate enough to start. There are actually five to be chosen, although there are rarely all five at a time. The Teacher only appears when he is needed, so his appearance is somewhat spotty."

"Is there a Teacher now?" she asked.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "There hasn't been a Teacher for four generations, and I've seen that it will be at least another two before he appears."

That brought a flicker of a smile to her face. "I suppose it's nice to know that the world won't need him for many years yet."

Neiren grew serious. "That's not quite how it works. The world is growing darker day by day, and there will be many tragedies and wars before he finally comes. However, that wasn't why I asked you to meet with me." He motioned toward the other end of the bench, and Kyrie sat, keeping as much room as possible between the two of them. "Let's begin with me. Most people think that as a Seer, all I do is tell futures. That's both true and misleading. While I can see into the future, what I see are scenes – bits of information. I can't look at you and tell you what dress you will wear on the next Feast Day, but I can tell you that you will have a child." He smiled as he saw her face brighten. "What I see are pieces. I know what the pieces are, but sometimes I can't tell what order they will occur in until they happen. Does that make sense?"

She considered that for a moment. "I believe so. It's like having all the skeins of yarn ready to weave a blanket, but until they're actually put in place, they are still just bundles of colors. But once woven together, they makes a permanent design."

"Excellent example, one that I will keep in mind." He smiled back at her. "It can be exhilarating and frustrating and frightening all at the same time."

"But why share this with me?" she asked.

He held her troubled gaze for a long moment. "You feature heavily in many of the pieces I have seen."

"Me?"

"Kyrie Adassa, seventh daughter of a seventh son, you will play a major role in unfolding events." He held up his hand to stem her interruption. "I can't tell you exactly what I've seen, since doing so alters the future. However, I need you to promise me something."

She considered him for a long time before nodding slowly. "I will try."

"No, I need you to promise. It's very important." He waited for her assurances that she promised before continuing. "One day soon, you will be called on to save many people. You need to be strong. I can't tell you whether you are successful or not, simply because I cannot see that part. However, I know that there will be thousands of lives depending on you."

Kyrie's eyes widened, and she hugged her arms around her in a defensive motion.

"Yes, you. You can do it. You have strength and power in you that will allow you to do this." Neiren smiled tightly. "In the mean time, you will be betrayed. Choose who you trust wisely. There is loss in your future, loss and sadness, and I'm truly sorry to say that I can do nothing, either in word or in action, that can possibly alleviate that." The genuine sorrow on his face assured her that he was telling the truth. "However, you will not be alone. You will have real friends to guide and help you. Let them.

"Finally, I have this to say. Your efforts will be blessed by the Ancient, even in this foreign land."

She gasped. "I didn't think anyone here knew about the Ancient."

"Even here, there are adherents to the Ancient of Days." Neiren took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are not as alone as you think. Protect yourself."

"I will," she promised softly. "But if anyone asks, what shall I say you wanted to speak to me about?"

He smiled again, this one much more open. "Tell them I was congratulating you. From new queen to mother in less than two years."

"Good," she said, before processing what he'd said. "I'm going to have a son that soon?"

"I told you, the future can change if I share too much," he said with a wink. "Now, I think I've monopolized enough of your time today."

"I have a question, if you still have a moment," she said, tightening her grasp with the hand he still held. "If I may?"

"Of course."

Blinking back tears that prickled her eyes, she inhaled tightly. "Why me?"

"Why you? Why not you?" he answered.

"No, I'm very serious. Since I've come here, I've been told and hinted at and prophesied to that I'm important, and I know I'm not. The only reason I'm here is the accidental timing of my birth." She blew out a gust of air impatiently. "Can you please tell me why everyone thinks I'll be this important player in all this?"

Neiren considered her words, knowing how seriously she meant them. He chose his own answer carefully. "Kyrie, sometimes people are born, grow up, marry, raise children, and die. That is all they aspire to, all they know that they can do. But never once did the Ancient tell us to be ordinary. He has called us all to live extraordinary lives. But there are situations where the lives they're called to live will be missed unless they are given encouragement.

"I believe this is one of those times. If you had not had this marriage arranged for you, what would you have done with your life?"

Having the question turned back on her so quickly startled her, and she gave his query the same consideration that he'd given hers. "I probably would have married some local boy, settled down, raised a family, and been whatever a help I could be to my father, and then my sister."

"But by being forced out of your shell, you have traveled across open waters, you have met people you never would have known before, and you have risen to a rank where you can be of great help to others." Neiren squeezed her fingers once more before releasing her hand. "Don't worry about others. Just focus on what I've told you and watch for the signs. And be strong."

He stood and offered her his arm before escorting her back to the gate. "I take my leave of you, my lady," and as he released her arm, he swept his hand down to collect her hand once more. A gentle kiss upon her fingers brought a quick smile to her face, and with another smile and wink, he was gone.

#### Chapter Five

She stood alone for a long moment before going back to her room. Even Breka's absence did not really come to her notice as she wandered out on to the balcony to ponder. Neiren had given her a lot to think about, and picking up her forgotten needlework from the night before, she focused on the needle piercing the fabric over and over. The point that stood out to her the most was that he was a follower of the Ancient, although she should have known that all the Anointed followed the Ancient, since they were chosen by the Ancient.

His origins from Andothorn had thrown her. All she had heard of Andothorn was that they were followers of the Celestial Pantheon, and she ruefully admitted that she had assumed that there were no followers of the Ancient. Kyrie had heard all about their pantheon of the sun and the moons, and while she herself knew that the full moons marked the months and planting and harvesting cycles, neither she nor anyone she had known had ever thought of them as deities.

Since she had been here, the only other person to even mention the Ancient had been Breka, and she had grown up with the teachings the same as Kyrie. Another wave of homesickness swept through her as she realized, again, just how alien this place was. She waited until her eyes cleared enough to continue on her needlework. For yet another time, she wondered how her father could have possibly agreed to send her amongst these foreigners.

Sighing, she tried to sort through all the other things the Seer had told her. She would be betrayed. Another sigh acknowledged that vague piece of prognostication. Rare was the person who did not encounter betrayal in one form or another in their lives. Be careful who to trust. Again, that foresight was ambiguous enough to apply to nearly everyone. She paused. He did say she would become a mother, and within the next two years. That was pretty vague, too, but he had given her a time frame, which narrowed things down.

Kyrie's needle paused. Everyone suffers sadness and loss, just as she had already done when her mother died. There was nothing specific in that, either. Once she thought about it, the only thing Neiren had actually revealed to her that was not ambiguous was the bit about her saving thousands of people.

She shuddered. Now that scared her. Becoming a mother and having a single baby depend on her seemed overwhelming, let alone multitudes of people. Shaking her head, she poked her needle through the fabric again. No matter what he said, she simply did not have that kind of strength, power, authority, or ability. She was just Kyrie, youngest daughter and youngest wife. That was it.

Her ruminations were interrupted by Breka and the servants coming into her room. Sitting out of sight for the moment, Kyrie remained silent, not wanting to talk to anyone. In spite of her efforts, however, she could not help but overhear the women trying to weasel information out of Breka.

"Is it true that her ladyship sings in other languages?" one asked.

Kyrie could almost hear Breka rolling her eyes. "It's a silly habit that she's had since she was a child. She just sings out nonsense."

"Well, my man heard from the king himself that he heard her singing in a tongue like those far eastern nomads use. Where'd she learn that?"

"Really? Do you ladies honestly expect me to dish out gossip for you, knowing that you'll run and tell everyone else and it will be common knowledge all over the palace by dinner? Go on, get to work."

The queen smiled at her friend's staunch defense of her. She turned her attention back to the needlework and nearly missed the next words.

"We'll plant a word in the queen's ear about your secret if you don't give us something," the oldest one said.

"Hush! I've told you what I know."

Startled, Kyrie froze as she heard the fear in Breka's voice. Secret? Deciding that her presence was needed, she rose and stepped back around the curtain into the room, startling all three women into statuary.

"You have a secret for me?" she asked, letting her gaze range between the three.

Breka recovered first. "They think that me seeing someone is of importance to you."

Kyrie smiled. "You hardly need to carry tales of that to me. Breka shared that news with me some weeks ago. It's her own business, and I've given her my blessing." Her smile grew wider at the servants' looks of shock. "Now, have you any other gossip to waste your time with, or were you getting to work?"

Taking her question as a dismissal, they rushed about, making themselves scarce. Laughing into the nearly empty room, she looked back at Breka, just missing the panicked expression as she composed herself. "So, tell me, what's this about a man?" she grinned girlishly.

Breka returned the smile, although it was not as genuine. "Yes, for the last few weeks, I've been seeing someone. But..."

"But what?" Kyrie asked when she hesitated.

Her friend wrung her hands. "I can't share his name."

"Why ever not?"

"He's married."

Kyrie's jaw dropped. "Breka!"

"I know, I know. It wasn't like it was planned or anything." Breka looked miserably at the queen. "I've been trying to break it off, but he enjoys playing this game. He dares me to tell his wife, knowing I can't and won't." She paced in front of the bed. "I hate that I've been caught in this, and now you've exacerbated the gossip by saying that you've given your blessing for me to commit adultery."

"I'll just order them to remain silent. Surely I can shut that down."

Breka sighed heavily. "You know that will only make things worse."

"Fine. We just ignore it until it blows over." She looked at her friend. "Do they know who it is?"

"It's hard to tell. Servants are so invisible that you never notice when they're around, and there are a few who lurk just to discover scandalous bits." The woman chewed on her lip as she thought. "I don't think they do, or it would have been all over the palace by now. We, at least I have, been very careful."

"Breka, do you love him?" Kyrie asked, needing to know the answer.

A long silence stretched between them. "I don't think so. I mean, it's nice during, but all I think about after is how to not get caught in that situation again."

"All right then. Just let him know that I know about it and that you have my support to stop." She smiled at Breka. "Will that suffice?"

Breka wore a worried expression that gradually faded into something resembling hope. "I'll try it. Given that you're the queen, maybe that will work."

"Very well. We'll get through this." Hopping off the bed, Kyrie led the way into her wardrobe. "It's getting hot out there. Let's find something cool." She ran her fingers along the garments hanging neatly along one side of the room. "It's too bad that there isn't anywhere that we can swim. I miss our little beach."

Breka nodded as she followed. "I do, too." She held out two selections and let the queen point at one before continuing. "What if I were to do some quiet asking around? In a climate this warm, surely there are places to swim, even if they're just for the commoners." She grinned. "And as warm as it is here, I'm sure the water is warmer than our beach at home."

"Absolutely. You have my permission to snoop." Changing into the short day dress, Kyrie returned the grin. "Could you imagine dressing like this at home? Showing our knees? Shocking!"

"Well, with the heat here, I understand why these are popular. There was too great a chance for a cold sea wind no matter what the weather back home."

The queen froze. "That's twice in the last few moments that you've mentioned home." She looked in Breka's face, searching for the truth. "Are you that homesick?"

Breka worried her lip again before wincing. "A bit. Some days are worse than others."

"Me, too." Kyrie considered her words. "Would you like me to release you to go back home?"

"No. I will not leave you here on your own," she said vehemently. "Besides, when have you ever known me to not be able to handle men? I'll work this out."

That brought a genuine laugh. "I know you too well, and the boys at home learned quickly not to do anything without an invitation." She hugged Breka. "All right. I'll be fine here while you go snoop. If we can find a place, then you have my everlasting gratitude."

As the late summer heat built, Kyrie laid down on her bed to nap. The palace was cool, most of the time, but if the wind blew off the land instead of in from the sea, the rooms could become sweltering quickly.

She woke when her arm was shaken. Blinking blearily up at Breka, she grimaced as she felt the sweat plastering her hair to her neck and her dress clinging to her damply. "You find something?"

"Yes. One of the gardeners is willing to lead us out of the palace." She handed Kyrie a roll of clothes. "Swimming is so common here they have designed costumes to swim in." An impish grin accompanied the clothing. "Better than swimming in our underclothes."

"Or nothing at all," Kyrie returned, remember a couple instances before they started entering womanhood.

It did not take them long to change, and they both laughed at each other in the knee-length split skirt and snug bodice with simple straps over the shoulders. They then plaited their hair out of the way and put on robes to disguise their costumes. Several minutes later, they arrived at the garden rendezvous spot unseen.

"This is Arelan. He will help us get out unseen and be our escort," Breka said by way of introduction.

Kyrie nodded and smiled, wondering why he looked familiar. Then she laughed at herself, since she could not count how many times she had been in the garden and had probably seen him working. "My thanks."

The young man hefted a basket and took the lead. Neither woman had ever been out the servants' entrance, and they watched around them as he led them down darker halls than they were used to. However, when they emerged, they were on the street that ran behind the palace.

"Here, put these on," he instructed, pulling out floppy woven straw hats. "Everyone else wears them, and then you'll fit right in."

His accent was strange, but Kyrie found it somewhat lyrical. She followed his instructions, tucking her blonde braid up into the hat. She saw Breka imitate her, although her darker hair would not draw as much attention here. The gardener led them through labyrinthine streets before passing through a gate. Beyond that, the road opened up and for the first time, Kyrie saw a bit of the country in which she lived. The vista before her was stunning, if totally different than what she had known.

Houses sat along side the road, and instead of little stone cottages with slate roofs, she saw whitewashed mud brick houses with flat roofs. The hills rolled away in the distance, covered heavily with trees. Fields waved with grain, turning golden in the sun, rather than low stone fences everywhere corralling the sheep.

She stumbled along after the other two, turning off the road and following a wide foot trail back toward the sea. They walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before the trail ended on the beachhead.

This scene was much different than the shiny white wharf where they had docked. A sandy beach stretched out before them, dotted with swimmers wearing costumes.

"This is lovely," Breka said. "Where is the wharf from here?"

Arelan pointed back to the west. "Just around that bluff. You can see the tops of the buildings, if you look."

Kyrie nodded before looking back to the beach. "It's more crowded than I imagined," she said.

"That's because this is the public beach." He smiled at them. "Come this way and I'll show you another spot."

Backtracking a few yards, he pulled them back off the trail and on to a winding path. Trekking this one was much more difficult, with fronds constantly slapping them in the faces. Occasionally the path itself would disappear, and once Arelan had to hold back the undergrowth until the women could get through. However, emerging into a private cove made it all worth it.

The young man grinned at the synchronous sighs of delight. Golden sand stretched out, leading to a perfectly semicircular beach guarded by two rocky bluffs. Kyrie glanced over to their guide. "Why is there no one here?"

"Not very many people know about it. I found it by accident exploring several years ago." He pointed at the stony sentinels. "See those? They overlap just enough that unless you bring a boat right up against the cliff, you can't see the entrance. And since that area out there is known for its rocks and reefs, no one bothers with it." Stepping forward onto the sand, he flicked off his sandals and settled the basket safely. "Those bluffs also protect this spot during storms. So here is a swimming spot worthy of queens."

The women needed no other invitation. They shed their robes and shoes and ran toward the water's edge. Kyrie stood ankle deep and let the warm water lap at her legs while Breka ran out waist deep before diving into a shallow wave. She surfaced, spitting out water and grinning. "So much warmer than our swimming hole! Come on out!"

Spurred on by her friend, Kyrie repeated Breka's actions. As if as one, they turned and began swimming directly toward the protecting sentinels. Once there, they treaded water and peered around the rocky pillars. The scene beyond was exactly as Arelan had described. Away from the foamy waters at the mouth of the cove, the open sea stretched out. The women pointed out sailing ships and fishing boats, delighting in the splashing water and the fact that they were away from the palace and its intrigues.

Arelan startled them when he swam right up behind them. "My ladies, I must ask you to come back away from there. There are dangerous tides that can pull even an experienced swimmer under. Or out to sea."

"We grew up swimming the rough, cold waters of the Sapphire Sea," Breka said. "I wouldn't exactly call us inexperienced."

"But," Kyrie cautioned, throwing a slight frown at her friend, "We do not know the peculiarities of these waters, so let us heed his words of warning." She smiled at him and immediately began swimming back to shallower water.

Once there, Kyrie lay on her back and let the waves carry her where they would. Breka swam up beside her. "What was that about?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"What?" Kyrie asked, raising her head and shaking water out of her ears.

"That. Taking him at his word."

The queen shrugged. "I wasn't kidding. Just because we knew every inch of our small section of coast doesn't mean that we can see dangers here the same way."

"Granted, but why flirt with him?"

"What?"

Breka pinned her with a stern stare. "You flirted with him."

"I most certainly did not." Kyrie returned the stare in confusion.

"Yes, you did. You smiled at him and defended him."

Blinking in shock, she reviewed her actions. Frowning, she shook her head at Breka's accusations. "So I smiled. That was not flirting."

"If the queen says so," Breka returned, doubt weighing down her words.

"I do say so. I also say that we need to forget about that and just relax and enjoy ourselves for the afternoon."

"If the queen says so." Bobbing to an exaggerated curtsy in the water, Breka generated the expected laugh, and ducking under water to avoid the splashing, she swam forward and tackled Kyrie, much as she had in the wardrobe when they had first arrived. As expected, her attack launched a wrestling match between the two, which ended as most of them had, in a draw. The two women were evenly matched, and neither one particularly wanted to defeat the other.

### ~~~~

Arelan swam over to a submerged stone and sat, watching the antics. Neither of them particularly looked or acted like a queen, but that brought a smile to his face. He had waited patiently for his chance to get near to the queen, but he had not anticipated all the intrigue that surrounded her. Focusing on the lighter hair, he watched her diligently, readying himself to swim to her rescue if the need should arise.

He had been serious about the warning about the tides at the mouth of the cove. The treacherous current had caught him a time or two, and he had been prepared for them. It would be tragic if after finding her, they lost her to the sea.

As the women gave up their wrestling and settled into more sedate activities, he allowed his thoughts to wander. The priests had made much of the fact that they had found the wife for Arlexus that fell under their gods' signs and omens and such. Arelan paid little attention to it all, since he had never subscribed to the numerical and astrological nonsense that these people worshipped. His people, clansmen from the Sword Spires far to the south, had raised him to work for things, not trust to some personification of the moon or sun.

However, the appearance of Neiren had changed plans. With his information that she was the one they were looking for, Arelan had been tasked with becoming familiar to the queen, so that when the foreseen events happened, they could make their move. The Clansmen were no friends to Arlexus and his regime; they had seen through his charisma to the selfish little man underneath. They knew and understood his thirst for power, since he had driven them from their homes in the Rune Forest. It did not matter that the Clansmen had been there since before the Jopha started measuring dynasties. Arlexus had wanted that land, so they had been driven away.

His stomach growled, distracting his thoughts away from the depressing history of his people. That could not be changed, but he could eat lunch. He stood and waded back up to the basket he had brought. The queen would not have considered bringing a meal, and he hoped that the women were getting as hungry as he was. Arelan grinned as he saw his plan working. They left the water as they noticed him setting out food.

"Thank you, Arelan, for thinking ahead to bringing something to eat," the queen said with a smile. "I'd forgotten how hungry I get when I swim."

"Yes, thank you," Breka echoed. "Someone was in a huge hurry to leave and swim today and didn't allow me to do anything else."

Arelan quickly covered the basket as the queen's towel flipped water and sand toward her lady. He muffled his laugh as the scene devolved into a good-natured scuffle. Seeing firsthand that the two women were such great friends made him second guess the plans made.

"Well, this was my rest day from work, and I'd already planned to swim and had made arrangements for lunch. I just had the cook add a bit more when I told her I'd have company." He smiled again, handing out dishes of cold meats, chilled vegetables, and cold fried tubers.

They ate in silence until the worst of their hunger was satisfied. Kyrie looked at Arelan with gratitude. "That was excellent. I'd almost forgotten how satisfying simple food could be." She leaned back on her hands with a happy sigh.

Breka nodded. "I enjoy the food here, but this is very similar to what we ate in the Citadel."

Both women looked lost in thoughts, prompting Arelan to ask, "Do you miss your home that much?"

The queen looked at Breka and nodded slightly to allow her to answer. "At times. We've only been here a few months, which really isn't very long to get settled here."

"What was your life like there? I can understand what it's like to live in a new place, since my family lives many miles south of here in the Sword Spires."

Kyrie launched into a description of life in Mithlaris, and after he had satisfied his curiosity about her home, he described how his family lived. The three of them marveled at the similarities of culture, given that they lived so far apart. They laughed over some of the differences, and spent the afternoon getting to know each other.

Arelan led them back to the palace, happy that the first step in this plan was completed. Not only did the queen know him, but he felt that he had made a good impression on her friend, which could only help his cause in the end. They made their way back into the palace and paused there to give him back the hats he had loaned them. After they had taken their leave, he returned to his quarters only to find Neiren sitting on his bed.

"I saw that you found an opportunity to visit," the Seer said.

Arelan hung up his towel to dry and began searching for clean, dry clothes. "Yes. I think this afternoon was quite successful." Taking the clothes with him, he stepped into the bathing chamber to change. Once he was done, he stepped out and hung up his swimming shorts to dry. "And since they both swim like fish, as long as the weather permits, I'll continue having excuses to spend time with them."

Neiren nodded. "Be careful not to arouse too much suspicion from anyone else. We only get one chance to do this."

"I'm not sure why you're so concerned with this. You've already seen it happen," Arelan said, rubbing his damp hair with the end of the towel.

"I've told you before, just because I've seen it does not guarantee that it comes to pass. Remember the skirmish at the river?"

Grimacing, Arelan nodded. "Point taken. I'll take them out no more than once a week. Should that be acceptable?"

"That should work." He peered at the gardener intently. "Are you able to keep your personal feelings out of this?"

The younger man stared back at the Seer. "I don't know what you mean. I have every reason to make sure this works, even more than you." His eyes narrowed. "It's not like you lost most of your family in that massacre."

Neiren grinned, surprising Arelan. "Those weren't the feelings I meant." He winked and left before the gardener had a chance to react.

He collapsed on the bed in the same spot that Neiren had just left. It was ridiculous to expect that he could hide anything from the Seer, but then again, he had never expected to actually like the queen.

She was so different than any of the other royalty. All the wives were haughty when it came to servants, except for Kyrie. She always requested, not ordered; the others demanded as if the servants existed to serve only them. Arlexus himself barely ordered servants, since he had retainers to do it for him. The king seemed to think that he was too exalted to speak to mere servants.

Collapsing back into a reclining position, Arelan let his thoughts return to the afternoon's expedition. Both women differed in looks to the dark hued local populace. The lady, Breka, had lovely brown hair, the color of the rare mahogany wood used in the palace. Her skin was fair and clear, accentuating clear, light green eyes.

The queen, on the other hand, stood out even further. Her dark blonde hair was shades lighter than any of the other queens, aside from Jolana, whose hair was white. She had very fair skin, and she had been close enough today for Arelan to notice the sprinkling of freckles decorating her nose and cheeks. Her blue eyes were soft and flattered her, and the bathing costume had shown off a womanly body just achieved from adolescence.

He clinched his eyes shut. _Those_ were the feelings Neiren was talking about – the attraction he felt. Groaning and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he rolled over and curled into a ball. Attraction had no place in this situation, none at all. Vengeance, yes, and a powerful righteous anger – those were the feelings that would serve him best. Sighing and straightening out, he locked his fingers together behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Queen Kyrie was a means to an end, nothing more. He continued to try to convince himself of that until he dozed off.

#### Chapter Six

Kyrie rolled her eyes as Breka once again tried to insinuate that she had been flirting with that man. She was sitting in her bathtub, allowing Breka to wash the sand out of her hair, and the woman would not drop the subject.

"I'm sorry, but really, how was I flirting? I talked to him the same way I talked to Kazarian at home."

She could hear the grin in Breka's words. "And you flirted with Kazarian, too."

The queen shook her head. "Do you mean to tell me that every man I speak to, I flirt with?"

"Of course not. You don't speak to Arlexus like that."

"He's my husband. My arranged husband. I don't need to flirt with him." Kyrie frowned as she considered the argument. "But I spoke the same way to all the young men in the Citadel."

"And you were considered a huge flirt. Did no one ever tell you that?" Breka took her silence as a negative answer. "Kyri, I love you to death, but you were the biggest flirt in the Citadel."

The queen ducked under the water to rinse her hair and came up spluttering. Taking the small towel offered, she blotted her face dry before launching her next argument. "Well, if it _is_ true that I flirted with everyone, and you know that I had absolutely no attractions or romantic intentions on any of them, then by the same token, any unconscious flirting I did today must fall under the same circumstances." She looked over her should to her friend. "Would you agree?"

Breka returned the queen's eye roll and shrugged. "By that argument, then yes, I agree." Before Kyrie could crow triumphantly, she held up a finger. "But – I still say that the way you flirted today was different."

Kyrie groaned and dropped her head against the back of the tub. "I give up. I was simply being polite and making conversation with a man who was nice enough to share an afternoon swim with us. Conversation done."

"If you say so."

She waited until Breka walked to the side of the tub with her towel. Standing, she wrapped it around her and waited until she could meet her friend's gaze directly. "Let's look at this seriously. I am a married woman. I am, as you so frequently remind me, also a queen. Could I even subconsciously consider dallying with a servant? A gardener? So why even tempt myself?"

"You're also married to a man who has six other wives, meaning that he will never ever be faithful to just you." Breka laid both hands along Kyrie's cheeks and leaned her own face close. "I want you to be happy, and if that means you dally with the gardener, so be it. I am also teasing you. I know that you didn't notice any flirting you did today. Any situation, any conversation that isn't the stilted formalities that you've been forced into here means that you flirt.

"I think the formalities here are a good thing for you, since flirting with all the visiting nobles and emissaries would probably be a bad thing." She waited for Kyrie's grin, which came as expected. "However, believe me above all else, I do want you to be happy." Breka smiled sadly. "Given my situation, could I honestly judge you for finding some happiness outside of marriage?"

"I know you won't judge me." Kyrie drew her friend into a wet hug. "Go on, then. Bathe before all the water gets too cold. I can dry off and dress myself."

The situation was put behind them by the schedule of the next several days. Arlexus had a large visiting party from his mother in Crynmarth coincide with a group from the Jade Cairn. Jolana joined Kyrie as a featured hostess, since her family was a significant part of the assembly.

Jolana was a striking woman, but in the presence of her parents and older brother, she blossomed into a true beauty. She laughed and smiled, keeping all the bitterness at bay that Kyrie had seen in their brief conversation in the garden. It was not hard for the younger queen to notice how hard Jolana worked at keeping the attention focused on her, her son, or her family instead of Arlexus or her marriage.

Kyrie helped as much as possible, quietly making sure that the servants kept food and drink flowing. She kept out of the way, not allowing her presence to distract any of the group to notice anything other than their own reunion. Instead, Kyrie focused on being entertaining to the nobles from Crynmarth. Fortunately, these visitors were from Dee's own family, cousins that had recently inherited and were making their first official visit to their royal cousin as ambassadors. Apparently Dee had gushed over her, and the newly inherited Jopha Addis and his wife Ranya were happy to spend their time with her.

Arlexus remained his charismatic self, but Kyrie caught him watching her as she played the hostess role that he had forced on her. Once they retired for the night, he joined her in her suite.

"I thought you'd be with Jolana tonight," she said, not quite able to conceal her surprise.

He leaned indolently against the door. "Maybe I wanted to be here instead. Trying to get rid of me?"

"No, of course not. But with Jolana's family here, I thought..." She shrugged and scooted over in the bed. He was not a bad lover, and it could have been much worse. Besides, if he wanted to court bad blood by embarrassing Jolana in front of her family, that was his business, not hers.

Kyrie woke, knowing from the dim light in the room that it was still late. Arlexus slept, and she sighed as she realized that she was not going back to sleep. Slipping into a light robe, she retreated to the balcony again. It had become her own little sanctuary, and after her observation the day that she had met the Seer, she had an even greater appreciation that her balcony overlooked the gardens.

She sniffed deeply, smelling the salty night wind, the fragrance from the blossoms below, and a whiff of smoke of cooking fires. Cooking fires meant that it was nearing dawn, and the bakers were heating their ovens to bake their breads. Leaning on the railing, she closed her eyes. As she started humming, she felt rather than heard the presence behind her. Self-conscious, she continued humming, reigning in the syllables that wanted to accompany the tune.

"Won't you sing for me?"

"If you want." Kyrie began singing a popular ballad that the actors had sung for that evening's entertainment.

She jumped as he stood behind her and grabbed her arm. "That's not the kind of singing I meant," he said, his words smooth but his voice carrying a veiled threat.

"Then you'd like another song?" she asked, frowning in the dim light.

"Sing one of your songs. The one that went with the tune you were humming."

Kyrie swallowed nervously. "It was just a random tune. I don't know any words to it."

Arlexus grinned, but it carried no charm. Instead, it was a feral baring of teeth. "But you do, my dear." When he grasped that she would not sing, he pulled her back into the room and stood by the bed. "Take it off," he ordered, staring pointedly at her robe. She let it fall to the floor and stared at him uncertainly. His hand twitched at his side, as if controlling an impulse.

Without warning, he grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her onto the bed. Kyrie bit back a scream, knowing instinctively that it would only make things worse. Closing her eyes, she tried to convince herself that it was his right to do this, that she could not refuse him his right. Nothing worked.

When he finished, he threw on his trousers and stalked from her room. She lay on her back, clutching the sheet over her body. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to ignore the tears that slipped from her eyes into her hair as she prayed for sleep.

#### Chapter Seven

She woke late the next morning. The servants had already been in and tidied the room, leaving her to sleep. Sitting up, she wondered why Breka had not been in to wake her. Kyrie called out to make sure she was alone, and when she got no answer, she slipped out of bed and slipped into the wardrobe. From the angle of the sunlight streaming in her windows, she assumed that it was past breakfast and going on to lunch. She found a simple but elegant day dress and donned it, grateful that it was quite modest by the standards of the court.

The older servant who had been gossiping answered her summons. Her explanation as to why Breka had not wakened her was that she was ill and could not get out of bed this morning. Concerned, Kyrie dismissed the woman and hurried downstairs to Breka's room.

Her knock went unanswered, and Kyrie opened the door. There was no doubt to the old servant's tale; Breka lay huddled on the bed, wrapped in a sheet. Her face matched the pillow in pallor. Kyrie rushed to her side, laying a hand along her friend's pale face.

Breka woke with a moan. Surprised that someone was beside her, she flinched away violently before she saw who it was. "Kyri?"

"Why haven't you called for the physician?" Kyrie asked. "I'll send for him right away."

"No, no. It will pass," she said, clutching at Kyrie's hand before she could react. "It will be fine."

"Breka, you are obviously ill. Let someone look at you." She plucked at the sheet, pulling it away. Breka was too lethargic to stop her, and Kyrie stared in horror at the bruises developing on her arms and chest. She leaped back, the sheet still wrapped around the fist that had formed at the sight of the punishment her friend had suffered. Breka cried out and tried to hide as the blood was revealed.

With a cry, Kyrie dropped the sheet and ran from the room. She ran straight to the healer's office and explained the situation as quickly as she could. They entered Breka's room together and with a quick look, the healer sent Kyrie back to her room to wait. He assured her that he would update her as soon as he had a diagnosis.

She paced the room, sick with worry about her friend. Someone had beaten her, it was plain to see. It did not take much for the queen to put the pieces together. Breka had been beaten by her lover. Furious at the realization that her married lover was the most likely culprit, Kyrie left her rooms, hurrying to Arlexus's wing. She would convince her husband to find the villain and punish him appropriately. Hearing voices coming from his private office slowed her steps. It would not help her case to interrupt an important conference.

As she paused to listen, keeping out of sight of the occupants, she was shocked to recognize the healer's voice. She must have misunderstood him when he said that he would speak with her immediately, but with a crime of this magnitude, she supposed it made sense to report to her husband first. The healer's words were too low for her to hear, but she could hear Arlexus clearly.

"Will she survive?" Arlexus asked.

"Yes, my lord. However, the child did not."

Kyrie froze. Breka had been pregnant? She jumped when something crashed in the room. Profanity stung her ears.

"I get a whelp on the wrong one. That cursed island is more trouble than it's worth." She could tell Arlexus was pacing by the rise and fall of his voice. However, it was still loud enough to hear every word clearly. "I'll never get my hands on those mines."

"Has your queen not conceived yet?" the physician asked.

"Have you been called? Of course not." She could almost see the petulant look on his face from his words. "She refused to obey me. What else was I supposed to do?"

The physician wisely refused to answer the king's rhetorical question. "How shall I treat the lady, then, my lord?"

There was a long pause, and Kyrie was nearly tempted to peer into the room when Arlexus finally spoke. "How badly did I beat her?"

Kyrie felt the world grow dim as her mind processed those words. Her husband, her own husband, had been her best friend's married lover. And thinking back to the conversation when she had admitted it, she had to believe Breka when she said that she tried to avoid him. It was all too much in Arlexus's character to stalk her friend and bed her.

Panicked, the queen backtracked as silently as she could, but since her blood was rushing in her ears, she could not really tell if she was quiet or not. Nothing else mattered at this point; she just needed to get away. The only safe place she could think of was her own chambers. Running back there, she ordered the servants out and bolted the door. The women had left her lunch on a table, but Kyrie's stomach churned at the thought of eating. All she could see was Breka lying bloody and bruised.

She paced around, wearing off the adrenaline as she tried to process the situation. This was her husband who had done this, and as she examined his words, he had probably done it this morning after leaving her bed. Glancing at the offending furniture as if it were to blame, she shuddered. Shying away from it, she tried to put her experience out of her head and focus on her friend. So Arlexus must have gone directly to Breka's room after leaving hers. Breka must have told him about the child, and since he was already in a fury, he had taken it out on her.

Kyrie sneered in disgust. The thought that her friend had suffered simply because he could not control his temper repulsed her. Tantrums were for children, not grown men, no matter what rank they held. Her own fury built, but a thought drained it away just as quickly. Arlexus was king. He could have her or Breka executed or exiled without a thought. A chill shot through her as she realized that this man held her life in his hands.

Drawing several very shaky breaths, Kyrie fought for control. Her next decision needed to be made calmly and rationally, not in the heat of anger or the chill of fear. Collapsing on one of the couches, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Firstly, it was not a shock that Arlexus had not been faithful; Breka had already pointed out that the polygamous marriage eliminated that. So honestly, the fact that he had bedded someone else could be ignored. She sighed in relief that one point resolved itself.

Secondly, she had already known that Breka was involved with a married man, so a child was not a particularly surprising outcome. The shock of losing the child was a tragedy, but there was a small advantage to the circumstances. Having an illegitimate half-brother or sister to her own children would have been difficult to explain to all involved. Also, bastards often resented their lack of inheritance or acceptance, although with so many older legitimate brothers, that probably was not much of a consideration. So the lack of a child both protected Breka's reputation and avoided any future contention between half-siblings. Kyrie heaved another sigh at the resolution of that point.

Thirdly, her husband violently beat her friend. Opening her eyes and glaring fruitlessly at the ceiling, Kyrie realized that this would be one point that could not be so easily rationalized. He held the upper hand. His word was law, and the fact that she and Breka had no legal recourse held sway over this decision. Sitting up, she rubbed a hand over her face. Either she could deal with it now and ignore his actions, thus giving him no reason to react, or she could push the issue, forcing his hand and thus risking punishment for her or her friend. The resolution to this point was the one that really stuck in her craw. She was not used to justice being ignored, or more to the point, the person responsible for fairly disseminating justice being the one who needed punishment.

There was no choice. Kyrie stood up and braced herself. She needed to ignore her husband – Arlexus's actions. It was the only solution. She stared in the mirror and examined the woman she saw. Was this woman strong enough to do that? Could she continue acting as wife to what amounted to a moody child in a man's body? When she could answer both of those questions affirmatively, she turned on her heel and left the room.

Breka was alone and sleeping in her room. Someone had changed the sheets on the bed and tidied the space, but it still felt befouled to the queen. She pulled a chair over beside the bed and took up vigil, holding Breka's hand.

The healer visited an hour later, telling her some tale about a local poisonous plant that caused a skin reaction similar to the bruising present on her friend, and Kyrie calmly nodded and accepted his explanation. When she asked about the blood, he told her that the poison outbreak coincided with a particularly heavy menses. Serenely, she nodded and thanked him for his help, all the while railing silently at the man for thinking that she was truly that stupid. She dismissed him, telling him that she would sit with Breka until she woke.

He blustered and fussed at that pronouncement, telling her that a sickbed was no place for a queen, but Kyrie delighted in refuting all his arguments, spinning a tale about Breka doing the same for her a few years earlier. It did not matter what he said, she had a debt to repay and queen or not, she would repay it. She smiled as he left the room less than graciously.

When dinner time arrived, she asked for a meal delivered to this room. Breka still had not roused as the sconces in the corridor were lit, and Kyrie was starting to get worried. She had sent the healer away twice, saying that she was sleeping and was not much either of them could do until she woke. His complaints did not move her, and after her last rebuff, Arlexus knocked at the door.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked, staring him in the face for the first time since he had left in a temper the night before.

He cleared his throat. "Gilani said that you were planning to stay with your lady tonight. Do you still plan to do so?"

"Of course, my lord. She did so for me, so I can hardly consider myself a friend if I'm not willing to do the same."

"Yes, well, your status has changed somewhat since that time. You are now a queen and such things..."

"Are what, beneath me?" she asked when he let his words fade away. "As a queen, I should be even more honor bound to be an example to others." Kyrie looked up at him, eyes innocently wide. "Wouldn't you agree?"

For the first time since she had met him, Arlexus flushed and seemed unsure of himself. Kyrie could read the conflict on his face. He longed to order her away from her friend, but at the same time, he would lose face if he did. The queen struggled to control her smile. Gossip cut both ways, and she had two of the biggest gossips in the palace serving her. A carefully worded complaint would strike at the heart of Arlexus's charming reputation.

A jerky nod served to answer her question, and he left without further comment. Kyrie silently cheered at the victory. While she could hardly punish Arlexus directly for his actions, she had found a subtle way to hold her own. Thrilled that she would be spared his attention until Breka had recovered, she bolted the door and set about making herself comfortable. Breka's bed was not the huge production that hers was, but it was still more than adequate for two people. Kyrie settled herself on the far side of the bed, tucking her arm carefully around her friend and settling to sleep.

#### Chapter Eight

Two things woke her some hours later. The first was that someone was trying to quietly work the bolt loose from the door, and the second, Breka had roused and was lying stiffly, probably listening to the same thing. Kyrie quickly rose and lit a lamp. Carrying it to the door, she called out, "Who's there?"

The noise stopped immediately. Once several moments of silence had passed, she cautiously unbolted the door and peered out. The corridor was empty, and she heaved a sigh of relief and closed the door and dropped the bolt again. This time she looked around the room and finding a hair clip, used it to wedge the latch to where it could not be pried open easily.

She then checked the window, making sure the shutters were securely locked. Once that was accomplished, she returned to the bed and settled the still-burning lamp on the table. Smiling, she stared into her friend's open and frightened eyes.

"You're awake," Kyrie said quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff and sore."

They were quiet for a moment as each woman tried to assess how to proceed. Kyrie finally broke the silence.

"I know everything."

Breka's eyes filled with tears which began slipping down her cheeks. Kyrie held her, allowing the sobs to break free. They both shook with the power of those cries, and Breka wept herself out, finally dropping back weakly onto the bed.

Kyrie got up and wet some cloths, wringing them out. Wordlessly, she cleaned her friend's red and splotchy face as she gulped and hiccupped with the aftermath of the crying. Laying the cloths aside, she sat and held Breka's hand.

"Where should I start?"

The queen shrugged. "It's your story."

Breka sniffed and hiccupped again. "Maybe a week after the wedding, I came back here to my room and he was here. I knew what he wanted, because I'd noticed him watching me since we got here, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, even when I explained that you are my best friend. In fact, that just seemed to make it more attractive."

"I can see that."

"Anyway, I gave in, mostly because he threatened to turn it back on me. He said that he'd get it back to you that I'd seduced him, that I was power-hungry and that I'd used you to get to him." She sighed and wiped her face with the back of her hand, then shifted and winced before continuing with her story. "And I believed that he'd have done it, so I gave him what he wanted."

"How many times did he come to you?" Kyrie asked, morbidly curious.

Shaking her head slightly, Breka sighed again. "I don't know. I didn't want to keep count. Rarely did he come to me at night. He seemed to like the thrill of stalking me during the day – when it was possible that you'd summon me and interrupt us. You did, once."

"That's why you started staying with me as much as you did. You knew he couldn't summon you out of my presence without good reason." Kyrie shook her head. Jolana's words about not looking for love in her marriage were seeming more and more prophetic. "So, last night, after he left my bed in a foul mood, he came to you?"

A pained laugh escaped her friend's lips. "You're the reason he was furious?"

"Yes, and now I wish I'd just placated him instead of playing ignorant." The queen leaned down and met Breka's gaze earnestly. "I would have never put you through this if I had known. I swear it."

"Kyri, you didn't know who I was with, so how could you possibly foresee him taking out his anger on me? I woke up and he was standing over me. I could tell that something was wrong, but he just – he... I know it sounds strange, but it sounded like he snarled. Like a dog. Then he started hitting me."

Kyrie's eyes widened in surprise. "Then you didn't try to tell him? That wasn't what set him off?"

"Tell him what?"

The queen froze, unsure of whether to share what she knew or not. Breka would not have to grieve a lost child, but that physician or rumors would inform her of that part anyway. Deciding quickly, she leaned close and said, "Breka, you were with child. The beating made you lose it."

Tears glazed her eyes before she blinked them away, ignoring the single drop that pooled alongside her nose. "I had wondered," she began, her voice shaky, but she cleared her throat and continued with more strength. "I had wondered if I was, but it hadn't been enough weeks to know for sure. I had suspected, though." Looking up at Kyrie, she asked, "Are you with child yet? That was one of my tasks for him, to spy on you."

"Not that I've noticed. I just finished my time." The queen drew herself up regally. "What other tasks did he set for you?"

Breka turned her face away in shame. "I was to make sure he knew when you quickened, because he wanted to tell his priests or someone about the timing. I was also to watch you, make sure you weren't – well, that there wasn't a chance you could conceive by someone else."

"Then why tease me about flirting with Arelan? Or the fact that you wanted me to be happy, even if it meant dallying with the gardener?"

"Because by that time, I was disgusted with myself and with him," Breka spat. "I thought it would serve him right to be cuckolded by one of his own servants." Fury was plain on her face as she struggled upright. "He used me, and I hated it. I hate him!"

The two women sat as heavy silence settled between them, each lost in their own thoughts. Kyrie finally broke the silence. "I think I have a way to protect you. But I can't do it until tomorrow."

"Protect me?"

The queen eased her lady back down on the pillows, ignoring the ever-darkening bruises. "I think Arlexus and that healer are trying to silence you permanently. You heard someone trying to open the door earlier. Gilari, or whatever his name is, fed me some ridiculous story about your bruises being caused by some local poisonous plant. As if I couldn't recognize a beating when I saw it.

"Both he and the king seemed very upset when I announced that I would be by your bedside until you were out of danger." Kyrie smiled. "I have to return the favor that you did me, don't you know?"

Breka's face lit with a slow smile. "Of course. And that would be the time that I held a vigil while you..."

"When I was ill with that dreadful fever when I was fourteen," the queen supplied, having had plenty of time to cement her story. "So obviously I had a debt to pay." She settled down beside Breka as to go back to sleep. "As for tomorrow, is there anyone in the palace that you trust to be with you while I take care of things?"

"Arelan," Breka said, "But I doubt that's very appropriate for me to be alone in the presence of a male servant."

"I'm worried about safety, not appearances. Besides, unless he's as depraved as Arlexus, he won't do anything but protect you. Now, you need rest to recover, and I need rest to be able to outthink the king tomorrow."

Kyrie's last thought as she fell asleep were Breka's soft words. "Thank you, Kyri."

### ~~~~

Arelan hurried through the corridors, unsure of what was happening. The servant who had summoned him only told him that the youngest queen needed his presence in the palace. His heart thundered as he was led along the first floor. Confused, he wondered where they were going, as all the royalty lived on the second floor.

He had also noted all the secrecy. The girl leading him was not one of the queen's normal servants; he thought he recognized her as a scullery maid. Why she had been called to help only added another facet to this mystery.

They halted beside a door, and after a quick knock and challenge, the door was opened and he was let in, while the maid hurried off back to the kitchen. Arelan had nearly come to the conclusion that this was a trap to catch him before the plan went into action, but once inside, he saw only the queen and her lady. His gaze halted on the lady, taking in her pained posture as she sat, bundled up as if against a chill, in spite of the heat building outside. He frowned at the scene.

"My lady?" he asked, bowing quickly to the queen.

"I need a favor of you," the queen said.

Arelan's gaze snapped up to meet the queen's, and he blinked at her fierce expression. "Of course, my lady."

Kyrie softened slightly at his agreement. "I need you to stay here with Breka until I return. Do not let anyone in, particularly Gilani the healer. No one is to enter but my. Can you do that?"

Thoroughly confused, he nodded. "I can do that. What if the king or another queen comes by?"

"I highly doubt that, but tell them, if they ask, that you are under orders not to let anyone in. I'll take responsibility for any consequences." She stood and tried to brush some of the wrinkles from her dress, but from the creases, it looked as if she had slept in it. "The best action is to ignore any summons at the door until I return. I will knock twice, then once, then three times so that you will know it is me."

"I understand." He bowed again.

She swept to the door before looking back at her lady. "Thank you," the queen said, flicking her gaze toward him before turning and leaving.

Arelan inhaled, a little shaken by the concern and love that he had seen the young queen demonstrate for her friend and by the intense message she had passed to him in that parting glance. Here was a woman who was clearly more than the young, shy, unsophisticated country girl she portrayed. He secured the door and turned back to the lady-in-waiting, raising an eyebrow in a silent bid for information.

"Have a seat, Arelan," Breka said.

"Of course, my lady."

She shook her head slightly. "You know my name is Breka. I told you the day we went swimming you had permission to use it."

"Breka, then."

They sat and stared at each other for several long moments, measuring each other up. Arelan noticed that the shutters were closed, and only one lamp was lit, leaving most of the room in deep shadows. Breka shifted slightly in the chair, and he frowned at her stiff movements.

"Exactly why am I here?" he asked finally, when she refused to break the silence.

"The queen needed a favor. She asked me to name someone I trusted."

His frown deepened. "You've spoken to me maybe a dozen times." He leaned forward and his expression altered to one of bemusement. "Why do you think you can trust me?"

Breka allowed a slight smile to appear. "The outing at the beach was enough to win my trust. You could have taken advantage of us, or gossiped about us, but the fact that you watched over us so closely, guarding us against not only discovery but swimming in unfamiliar waters that I could see you were an honorable man." She winced as she shifted again.

"Are you ill?" he asked, trying to shift away from the uncomfortable revelations. He knew, even if these two women did not, that he was not the least bit trustworthy. However, there was something else going on, and if he could use their gullibility to keep himself close to them, he would.

"Of a sort." She stared at him, and it was all he could do not to flinch under her scrutiny. "The queen has recognized a need to have someone that she can trust at her call. I realize you might be surprised at that, but at this moment, I can't reveal any more than that." He endured another searching look before she spoke again. "Are you willing to serve?"

"I serve the king already. Why would I not serve one of his queens?" he asked.

"That's not what I asked."

Arelan slouched back in his chair. There was much more to her question than just a request for loyalty. "But what you're asking me is to swear fealty to the queen, possibly to the point of putting her loyalty over that of the king."

"I am."

Stunned at her candor, he stared at her, his mouth falling open even though no words came to mind. After a few aborted attempts to speak, he finally asked, "What do you mean?"

Breka smiled tightly. "I mean that certain events have occurred that require the queen to find someone loyal to her first." She nearly laughed at his look of consternation. "If you don't want to go this far, all we ask of you is to never mention today's events with anyone."

The man shook his head slightly. He was unsure how he had been so blessed. Even as he took the mission and gotten a position in the gardens to get close to the queen, he had anticipated months, possibly years, of waiting. His whole group had. Even when the Seer had hinted otherwise, no one had foreseen events moving so quickly.

"So, you're saying no?"

He blinked and frowned before realizing that she had misinterpreted his head shaking. "No, I'm not saying that. Not at all. I'm just..." Pausing, he sighed, weighing how to give his answer without tipping his hand. "I'm just – I am honestly trying to find words for this – this situation."

Breka sighed in relief. "I have to admit, you scared me. I thought you were ready to run off and inform the king."

"No, no danger of that from me."

The lady studied him curiously. "You don't like the king, do you?"

She had startled him again. "What?" he asked.

"Your accent. It's not local. And the speed of your denial." Breka smirked as his discomfort. "You don't like the king at all."

Arelan inhaled, wondering how she had guessed that. "Denying that I'll run to betray your queen doesn't mean I don't like the king."

The lady smiled, confident of her assessment. "I've heard rumors, rumors of native peoples being run from their lands. It's no secret that this palace is rife with gossip. And it doesn't take very long to be able to sort out the fiction from what has a basis of truth." She pulled on her lip contemplatively. "If I were one of those peoples who had lost their lands, I believe that I'd be quite motivated to find a way to get close to the king. Are you planning an assassination?"

"No!" The word left his mouth with a vehemence that even surprised him. "No killing."

"I believe you." Her smile eased a bit of his trepidation. "Assassination would more than likely lead to retaliation, and that doesn't help victims of displacement." Breka fell silent as she contemplated him.

The man sat stunned. No one had suspected him of anything other than a lowlander needing a job, but this young woman in front of him had already ferreted out more information than he was willing to give. An unpleasant thought occurred to him. As sharp as she was, it wouldn't take much logic to piece together the real plot. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I just asked you to swear fealty to someone other than your king. I believe I can hold your secrets, just as you hold mine," she said with a wry smile.

His quick nod acknowledged her point. "I am a spy. My job is to get into the palace to listen to the rumors, to see if there will be any more soldiers sent against my people." He wrung his hands nervously. "You were right. I don't like the king. And you've read me more accurately than I'm comfortable with." Smiling at the triumph in the woman's face, he continued slowly. "There are too few of our clan left to allow for the losses accumulated through the fighting. My people are peaceful at heart, and the loss of our lands is devastating.

"I don't hate the king. Strangely, I understand his desire to expand his borders. I just hate that he does it by sending troops into villages in the middle of the night, rather than meeting them honorably on the field of battle." Arelan watched as Breka absorbed the story he spun. "I mean, ambition is natural. Our neighboring clans war on each other constantly, so I'm no stranger to aggression."

"Does your clan have to defend themselves a lot?" Breka asked, engrossed in his tale.

"No as much as you'd think." He grinned. "I told you that we're sheep farmers. We have products that we trade with the other clans, so they don't tend to hurt the clan that helps them out."

"So, your neighboring clans don't enjoy the work and filth of raising sheep as much as trading for the wool and meat?" She returned his grin at his surprise.

They fell into an easy discussion about comparative lifestyles, more of an extension of the conversation the day they had gone swimming than exposing new information. Arelan enjoyed the talk as much as had before. These women were remarkable.

When she finally drew back to the issue of his fealty to the queen, he gave it, satisfying the lady that he would swear it again when the queen returned from her task. Truthfully, he could swear loyalty to the queen with a much clearer conscience than he could to her husband.

Breka tired quickly, and he assisted her back to the bed, where she gingerly settled back and drifted off to sleep. Given the opportunity to assuage his curiosity, he lifted the lamp over her, casting light over her pallor. The pale face and deep shadows under her eyes bore out the illness excuse they had given, but her movements told him a different story. A careful examination revealed the deepening bruises that they had gone to great lengths to conceal. Even though he was accustomed to rough living, he grimaced at the violence to which this young woman had been subjected.

Curiosity satisfied, he covered her back up and sat, watching over her from across the room. Given the king's reputation, especially amongst the servant women, he could easily deduce the culprit in the beating. The insistence that he swear fealty to the queen backed up that assumption. Arelan sighed when he realized that the queen knew the situation; she had to know. A slow smile brightened his expression. Once again, he had underestimated these women.

#### Chapter Nine

Kyrie hesitated outside Arlexus's reception room. She had already requested an audience and received an appointment. Restless, she tried to force herself to stand still and portray a regal air. The formal day dress that she had changed into after leaving Breka's room helped.

Arguments and thoughts ran rampant through her head as she tried to figure out the best approach to this to guarantee protection for her and Breka. There was no way around this – she needed to be strong for the two of them. Her hand dropped to her abdomen. Both of them and the child that the Seer had predicted for her.

Thinking of the Seer brought back his words for her. She frowned as she tried to recall them. Although he had called her a mother, she could not actually remember if he specified who the father was, just that she would have a child.

"His Highness will see you now."

Her heart thumped hard enough to cause a tightness in her chest as the herald startled her. "Thank you," she said, nodding her head with as much dignity as she could muster. She stepped forward into the room.

Even after these months of living here, Kyrie had never been inside her husband's official areas or his bedchamber. If she had been here, maybe she would not have been so intimidated by the opulence of the room. Gold and copper threw color onto the luminous white marble floor, while tapestries depicting various scenes hung between the tall windows. With some part of her mind, she recognized the hangings as Mithlarian products and that bit of home buoyed her spirits.

"My dear, what can I do for you today?" Arlexus asked, interrupting her observations.

She dropped into a curtsy before meeting his gaze. A quick glance around the room showed that there were several courtiers, local nobles, and a few visiting emissaries on hand – more than enough for her purposes. Emboldened, she smiled before speaking. "I believe you have been well-informed about my lady's illness."

"Yes, of course. Gilani has been most informative, at least until your vigil began."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she acknowledged the hit. "Her situation has improved, somewhat, although I believe that the healer might not have been privy to all the pertinent information, allowing for a slightly skewed rendering of her condition."

Arlexus eyed her shrewdly. "Are you suggesting that you are more skilled than our palace healer?"

"Not at all. He explained to me how the local _oritangi_ plant could leave skin defects resembling bruises." She paused while that information was processed by the audience. Before the negative protests could be voiced, she continued. "However, as my lady was unconscious during his examination, she could not have told him about the beating she received at the hands of her lover."

She allowed the gasps from the court to provide her an excuse for a pause. Waiting for her husband to make the next move wore on her nerves, but she knew it was necessary if she were to continue with her plan.

"A physical attack against a lady-in-waiting? I hardly think that possible in this civilized setting," Arlexus said. He flicked his gaze around the room, knowing as well as his queen that this game of strategy would have to win the support of the men in attendance to take the final prize. Thus far, he had to admit that she had garnered the advantage. "Your lady has been seen in the company of servants rather a lot recently."

"Ah, but she had already confessed to me that her married lover was a noble of this court." Kyrie straightened her back proudly. "At that time, she had expressed her interest in ending the affair, as she was not the instigator and had only participated because of veiled threats." She raised her voice for the next bit. "I have also independently discovered who this man is and corroborated her story from him."

The babble of the courtiers grew in volume and vehemence as the men demonstrated their displeasure to the revelation of such vermin in their midst. Arlexus grew pale but otherwise showed no reaction. "And what is it that you require of me? Do you wish me to ferret out this vile fellow and punish him?"

"I do not believe that is necessary. I just wish for you, in front of these witnesses, to guarantee safety for both Breka and myself. I also wish to be able to recruit a servant to help with that – one that will only answer to me."

"Your Highness, the queen's request is nothing but reasonable," one of the nobles said when Arlexus failed to respond immediately.

The king remained pale and silent as a statue. He knew that he had been found out, somehow. His wife, little rabbit that she might appear to be, had finally shown her claws and had drawn blood. He knew that he could easily weather the scandal should the whole story come out to the public, and with the servants in his palace that delighted in gossip the way that they did, it would be a giant scandal. However, this young woman before him would be the one to benefit from it, gaining the sympathies of the court and all but a few of his closest advisors. Given that Caenno Riffin had been the one to speak up in her defense, and he was the most powerful and influential of the local nobles, she had won this game.

Rage bubbled through his veins, and he knew that he had been bested by a mere girl. Looking deep into her eyes, he knew that she knew she had triumphed. He would have to give her all her demands, and he would have to leave her lady alone. That was not to say that he could not exact his vengeance elsewhere. She had to have other weaknesses than her friend.

Smiling, he reached out for her hands, celebrating inwardly when she hesitated to offer them. "Of course, my dear. Whatever you ask for is yours." His glare tightened as he squeezed her fingers to the point of pain. "Are you sure that you do not want to pursue the perpetrator?"

Gritting her teeth to keep from showing that he had scored a point back on her, she smiled tightly. "I believe that justice will find its own way to him. I don't wish to upset the court any more than I already have, but I needed to do what I could to safeguard my friend." Pulling her hands free from his grip, she curtsied to him again and graced the audience with a much more genuine grin.

Caenno stepped forward and bowed to her. "You are truly a courageous woman, Queen Kyrie. If you wish, I will provide you with your choice of men who will loyally protect you. In fact," and he turned to Arlexus, "I will make the same offer to all of your wives. I will present a contingent of men to the palace within a week." He bowed to the king. "It's the least I can do."

Kyrie recognized the tension present between the two men but was unable to pinpoint its cause. "I thank you, Lord Caenno, both for myself and Breka."

Arlexus allowed her to go silently, watching as she managed to charm even one of his closest advisors. There had to be another way to get to her, to crush her. However, with her and that wench in the court's eye, he would have to be patient.

### ~~~~

Kyrie knocked on Breka's door and patiently waited to be admitted. She was not surprised when she saw her friend asleep on the bed, so she motioned Arelan over to the far side of the room before speaking quietly.

"I'm sure Breka has already spoken to you about certain things, but circumstances have changed a bit and I would like some input, if you don't mind."

"Of course, my lady," the servant said, bowing his head slightly.

"What do you know of Lord Caenno?"

Arelan blinked at the suddenness of the question and the content. "What do you mean?"

"Servants hear more, and different, information than the court gossip is apprised of. So I would like to know more about Lord Caenno." She took a seat and waved him to take another.

He sat and frowned, trying to guess what kind of information she was seeking. "Caenno is of the Riffin district. His family has ruled there for many generations. He and his line are known as reasonable custodians of their province." Hesitating, he searched the queen's face for a hint of where to go. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Somewhat." She contemplated his information before asking, "What kind of position does he hold at court?"

"He is very influential. Not only is he the largest landholder north of the Scarstone Mountains, he also holds sway over most of the smaller landholders. Two of the northern provinces are directly related to him through marriage, and there are more that are indebted to him in one way or another." He paused as he sorted through the gossip. "I'm not sure how many for certain."

"So, it's safe to say that he holds a lot of power in the court."

"Yes. His support, and the support of those he influences, is much sought after by the king."

Kyrie's expression grew calculating. "So, Arlexus would not be willing to do something that would upset Lord Caenno?"

"Not normally, no." Arelan frowned again and stared at her. "Why do you need to know this?"

"Because Lord Caenno was kind enough to offer me one of his own men as a bodyguard, since I am so concerned about the safety of Breka and myself."

He watched her slow smile before realizing what she had done. His own grin grew as he grasped her plan. "In that case, my lady, I believe that you should take Lord Caenno up on his offer. His man will obviously have more standing than a lowly gardener, although I remain at your call to help you or your lady at any time."

"If I could keep you on, I would, Arelan, but there would be too many questions asked after Lord Caenno made his offer. Also, I needed to know if it was safe to accept his proposal or if I was inviting disaster by bringing in someone loyal to Arlexus." She held out her hand to him, and he took it and bowed his head, touching the back of her fingers to his brow. "Thank you for your assistance. I will call upon your discretion and help until I can put my new bodyguard into place."

"You can count on me, my lady."

She rose. "If you would be so kind as to stand watch outside this door, I will feel free to go back to my rooms and get them ready to have Breka moved in with me. Then the new guard will only have to watch over one room."

"Of course." He took position outside of the door while she went over to wake her friend. "Breka."

She opened her eyes and blinked up at the queen. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you later, but for now, I need you to wake up and start organizing your belongings to be moved up to my room."

Breka carefully sat up and rubbed her eyes. "All right. Why are we doing that?"

"So that our new bodyguard only has to watch one room."

"I guess that makes sense."

Once several servants were summoned, the move took less than an hour. They were settled, with Breka resting comfortably on a sofa that had been moved from the receiving room to the bedroom. Kyrie smiled as she surveyed the scene. Not only had she succeeded in safeguarding her friend as much as possible but she had also kept her husband from visiting her room. She knew it was not a permanent solution, as she could not keep her husband at bay forever, but it gave her some time to let this situation die a natural death. She did not wish to suffer through the scandal, even though, if she had read the room correctly, the court and probably public opinion would side with her. There was no reason to subjugate both her and Breka to that morass unless it became necessary.

A few more subtle questions, posed mainly as suggestions to Breka that were intended to be overheard by the servants, provided more information to back up what Arelan had told her earlier. Caenno was not only everything that the gardener had said he was, but some of the servants provided a much more in depth view. If all the gossip was to be believed, which Breka and Kyrie did not, the northern noble was someone to be feared. His province was the richest in all of Onarias, even surpassing the capital city of Caer Anthis. Arlexus depended upon his support to keep the kingdom's coffers full, and Kyrie acknowledged that this fact was enough to make any ruler leery of crossing the noble. Caenno also had taken a stand against some of Arlexus's boundary-stretching forays, particularly those in the south. The city of Erialar posed a particular sore spot, as the city still believed it was under the rule of the neighboring kingdom of Evralond. The citizens had rioted many times over the last two years of occupation, fighting the troops that Arlexus kept stationed within and surrounding the city.

The king of Evralond, Athan Nargande, had been pushed into a severe disadvantage as Erialar was not only the largest city in the kingdom, but also served as the capital city. Nargande had been forced to flee when it became apparent that the city would fall, and so he had fallen back to the interior of his land to gain support from his clan leaders.

Kyrie did not believe all this, but she did believe that the takeover of the city of Erialar had not been popularly supported. Based on the overall feel of the rumors she had sifted through, her decision to take the noble up on his offer appeared to be a sound one, and she sat on her balcony in good spirits, or as good as expected under the conditions.

#### Chapter Ten

When the invitation came from Caenno to meet in his suite after breakfast the next morning, Kyrie quickly agreed. She left Breka in the care of Arelan and ventured into the guest wing and was quickly shown into his sitting area.

"Good morning, my lady," Caenno greeted her, taking her hand much as Arelan had the day before.

"Good morning, my lord."

"Come, sit down. I realize we've just had breakfast, but would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, please." She settled herself and looked at him. "I assume your invitation had to do with the very kind offer you made yesterday?"

Caenno smiled. "It is indeed." Once they had their drinks, he dismissed all servants, leaving only the two of them in the room. "Now, my lady, it is safe to discuss all that I think we should discuss."

"And that would be your offer, would it not?"

He sipped his beverage of choice. "I perceive that you are a bright young lady."

Kyrie smiled. "I did well enough at my studies."

"I'm sure you did." Caenno leaned back and considered her. "How is your lady doing today?"

"Stiff and sore, but she is recovering. Slowly." The queen leaned forward. "So, when do I get a chance to interview one of your men?"

"In due time." The noble waved his hand toward her glass. "Please, try the juice. It comes from the silverberry fruit only grown in my home province. I don't believe that it grows as far north as Mithlaris." As she sipped and nodded appreciatively, he spoke again, his voice low. "Did I understand you yesterday that you are aware of the identity of your lady's attacker?"

Kyrie nodded. "I did say that."

"Are you positive of this information?"

"I heard it from his own lips, although he did not know I was there."

Caenno seemed to relax into his seat. "Then perhaps it is time I revealed a bit about myself." At her slow nod, he continued. "The Riffin family has supported the king here in Onarias for many generations. In fact, my family was one of the original four families that helped institute a king. We are the only surviving family, as the other three have either died out or been ousted from their position. Hence, our family is not one to cross. We are also one of the richest families in the country, therefore it has behooved our kings to heed us.

"Of course, we have also been the throne's strongest supporters for generations. There is even a Riffin married to the king, although Zaela is only a distant cousin." He smiled at her surprise. "She does not like to flaunt family connections, and we did not offer a closer relative as we have no designs on the throne."

"But Zaela's son is first in line for inheritance. Doesn't that put one of your family on the throne after Arlexus?" Kyrie asked.

"According to certain prophecies, his older sons will not sit on the throne." Caenno took in her look of surprised skepticism. "It's not often that the Seer is doubted like that."

"Neiren? I didn't realize he was the one who had seen this," Kyrie said.

He laughed softly. "Whose prophecies do you doubt, then? The priests?" Her small shrug did not go unnoticed. "The priests do get some things right, from time to time, but despite how seriously the king and his mother take them, the Celestial Pantheon is not the driving power that some think it is, or would like it to be.

"Until the Anointed cease to be a factor in this world, I doubt that the Pantheon will be that widely accepted. However, it is the Seer who spoke this when he was here."

"What did he tell the king?" Kyrie asked, remembering her own meeting with the man.

"I was not privy to the actual meeting, but I heard about it from both Arlexus and Neiren afterward, and both versions matched pretty closely, so I believe that this is what was said." Caenno contemplated his empty goblet before refilling it. "Neiren told him that the child born to his seventh wife will be crucial in his ambitions. The interpretation is that only your son will play into his ambitions, hence the interest in getting you with child."

She considered that. "Two questions, then. How does that match up with all those priestly omens that I keep hearing about?"

"Kaltov has foreseen something similar, I've heard, although I have only heard that through rumors. What is your second question?"

"What exactly are Arlexus's ambitions?"

"It's no secret that he wants to expand his borders. Since he came to the throne, he's pushed his borders out to the south past the Rune Forest and east to encompass the city of Erialar." His scowl told the queen exactly what he thought of that. "However, I believe that Arlexus has something much bigger in mind."

"How big?"

Caenno sighed heavily. "This is where my story veers from personal history into something a bit more... delicate." He stared at Kyrie. "I will be revealing things here that if repeated unadvisedly, could lead to trouble."

Kyrie smiled. "If you are worried about me, then don't concern yourself. I have put myself in a situation where one wrong move could cost lives. Unless you say something that threatens me, my future children, or my friends, then I will hold my peace."

He weighed her words. After a long silence, he allowed a smirk to appear. "Your scene yesterday before the king. That's what has endangered you."

Blushing, she ducked her head and dropped his gaze. "It was honestly the only think I could think of to save her life."

"That was incredibly brave, my lady. Facing him and putting him in that situation – I'm not sure I could have done it." His smile read as genuine. "I think that sufficiently placates any fears of confidentiality."

"We've exchanged confidences, so I believe you can trust me to share whatever you wish."

Caenno shifted again. "I know that you understand that Arlexus is Queen Dimitriadi's heir. What you might not know is that Andothorn is nearly twice as large as Onarias, and much, much richer. Caer Anthis is a major shipping point, as the king loves to brag, but what he doesn't mention is that it's only become of any importance within the last ten years. His mother's contacts within her capitol city of Crynmarth have allowed Caer Anthis to become a secondary port, and Arlexus has seized the opportunity.

"However, opening up Caer Anthis has only whetted his appetite. His mother rules so much more than he can accomplish here within Onarias. Both of the major temples to the Pantheon are in Andothorn, Crynmarth and its wealth and Vobria and its shipping outshine anything that we can produce in Onarias."

"So, you think Arlexus wishes that his mother would depart sooner rather than later?" Kyrie asked quietly.

"I would not be the least bit surprised if that is what is near and dear to his heart."

The queen stirred uncomfortably in her chair. "Would he consider helping her along?"

"Helping her al-...?" Caenno's jaw dropped as he grasped her implication. "Oh." He slouched back, attempting to process the consequences of her suggestion. Emptying his goblet in a long swallow, he refilled both glasses before speaking. "The Arlexus I knew as a boy and as a newly crowned king would never consider that. The Arlexus that sits in this palace at this moment?" He allowed the question to hang in the air. "I cannot guarantee that it's beyond that man."

"That's encouraging," Kyrie said, allowing some of her frustration to permeate her words. A man capable of the actions hanging heavily between them was capable of exacting whatever vengeance he desired against not only Breka, but herself and anyone else close to her. Hard on the heels of that thought rushed an image that twisted her stomach in a knot. "If he could harm Dee, how safe are you?"

Caenno smiled grimly. "I would say I am much safer than your lady is, but probably not quite as secure as you. Until you give birth to a son, you are probably the only person in this country who is truly safe."

Memories of her own experience rushed back to her, draining her face of color. "I am not sure that the word _safe_ truly applies to anyone." Shuddering at the reminder, she stiffened her spine and met Caenno's gaze squarely. "So, if the worst case scenario should happen, and Arlexus should inherit the throne of Andothorn sooner rather than later, what do you think his next move will be?"

"Honestly, if I were in his place, I would make my move against Evralond immediately. The taking of the city of Erialar has already nearly crippled King Athan. He's on his heels and knows that he's the weakest link in the northern kingdoms. Linevriand's king, King Osbryn, controls far more land than Arlexus, or even Queen Dimitriadi, for that matter. He doesn't have access to the wealth that Crynmarth boasts, but he does have several cities and has the natural barriers of two mountain ranges between his western border and his population centers. King Osbryn knows that any show of force, any serious threat, would have to come from the sea, and he has natural barriers with the Sea of Chaos, which is only safely navigable during a very small amount of time in the spring, and the Sea of Lost Souls, which is even more dangerous to sail than the Sea of Chaos and protects his northern cities."

"And the Whistling Straits are well defended, are they not?" Kyrie asked.

"Of course. The nature of the straits themselves limit the number of ships going through, but Osbryn has bolstered even those natural defenses with hidden garrisons. It seems that every time someone goes through there, the garrisons are in different areas, and each is well-armed and prepared to deal with incoming navies." Caenno savored his juice as he weighed his next words. "Linevriand will be the most difficult of the kingdoms to take. Arlexus would be wise to leave Osbryn alone until he had no other choice."

The queen gasped as she realized her husband's next move. "Then after taking Evralond, Mithlaris would be his next most logical choice. So that's what he meant about the mines."

The noble nodded. "Your father's copper mines would be of untold assistance to him, allowing him to have a nearly inexhaustible supply of bronze to make weapons. Also, crossing the Great Deep would not be nearly as hazardous as trying to navigate any of the northern seas."

"Making a surprise attack against the Waystone Citadel and Trynmore very effective and devastating. The Citadel might hold out for a while, given its very defensible position on the cliffs, but Trynmore would fall in a day. Maybe two."

"And with you as his wife, he could claim control under his own laws."

"He'd have to kill my father and all six of my sisters for me to even have a claim at ruling," Kyrie said quickly. "Mithlaris allows for women to inherit."

"But Onarias does not. Once your father is out of the way, he would have every reason to claim the rule in your land, because your laws would be invalid in his eyes. Women can't rule." Caenno grimaced. "Even with a powerful mother like Dimitriadi, Arlexus is incredibly narrow-minded. He was raised by those hidebound, moldy old priests who can't see beyond their noses."

Horrified by the implications raised, Kyrie slumped back in her chair. "I can't let this happen."

Caenno leaned forward and touched her hand. "Don't take this all on your shoulders. It's not your responsibility. Besides, Arlexus does not have the manpower or the ships to be able to attack Mithlaris."

"Yet."

The noble's shoulders sagged as he acknowledged the truth in that single word. "Yet," he echoed.

"We need to get word, secretly, to Dee and warn her of a possible assassination plot," the queen said.

"No, I don't think so." Caenno shook his head with the beginnings of a smile on his face. "I don't think that will be necessary. You see, after you came in and played your incredible scene yesterday, Arlexus led one of his advisors into suggesting that he travel to visit his mother, in an official capacity, of course." The smile strengthened. "My offer of extra guards came in quite handy with the timing."

"So, if he's going to Crynmarth, wouldn't that be even more of a reason to warn her?"

"It would be a full retinue – all his wives and retainers going. And of course, all the new bodyguards." His expression encouraged her to think as he was. "With all those people there, in front of so many witnesses, don't you think an assassination would be difficult?"

Kyrie grimaced. "Or he'll use the chaos to disguise his actions." She blew out a loud sigh. "I hate this. I hate seeing the worst in everything." Groaning to herself, she closed her eyes and hummed between clenched teeth in frustration. Without conscious thought, sounds tumbled out.

"By the Ancient, you're the Speaker!"

Kyrie's eyes flew open. Silence reigned the room. Even the normal sounds of servants bustling outside had ceased, and the queen and the noble stared at each other. "What?"

"You are the Speaker!" Caenno slid out of his chair and knelt before her, lifting her hand and pressing the back of her fingers to his head.

Jerking her hand back, she shook her head. "I don't understand. The Speaker lives in Linevriand, does he not?"

"No. He died several years ago." Standing, he bowed elegantly before her before retaking his seat. "It seems that the lost Speaker has been in our own presence all along."

Kyrie shook her head. "Look, whatever I did to make you think I'm an Anointed, I didn't mean to. It's not me. That singing thing is just a habit from when I was a child. Made up songs, that's all that is."

He frowned. "You don't know what you said?"

"Of course not! It's the same as when I was little. Made up nonsense to pass the time."

"My lady, when you tell me exactly what your husband has done, both to you and to your lady, in the tongue of one of the clans of northern Evralond, I know that you are the Speaker."

The queen froze at his words. Like every good follower of the Ancient, she had been educated about the Anointed. Even having met Neiren, the Seer, Kyrie could not grasp within her comprehension what he was implying about her. The Anointed were special, touched by the Ancient, and they worked for the good of all Nionosea. They also bore a terrible burden, particularly the Listener and the Speaker. While nearly everyone gave lip service to wanting to know the truth, very few actually wanted to deal with the consequences of hearing and speaking the pure truth.

The image of two nights ago came back to her in a flash that jolted the air from her lungs. Arlexus knew. He had to know. He knew and wanted to use her, and when she played ignorant and denied him his pleasure, he took her another way. Fury built in her veins, heating her body until she closed her eyes against the whiteness blurring out her vision. There were sounds trying to penetrate, but she blocked them out. How dare her husband use her so basely, and then when she denied him, try to kill her best friend, his lover. How dare he use Breka against her!

On the heels of that thought came the realization that in her wedding vows, she had promised to obey her husband. The rage quickly negated that thought with the rationalization that her wedding vows had been made to those moon gods, not the Ancient. Her own beliefs negated the words she had parroted back to that pompous little priest.

"My lady!"

She blinked. Caenno was kneeling before her again, his hands on her shoulders.

"My lady, are you all right?"

"Yes, I think so." Kyrie took a deep breath and expelled it forcefully. She looked at him and recognized the panic in his face. "What's wrong?"

"You froze. And then your face... Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded before drawing and releasing several more long breaths. Once she had calmed the wrath still heating her, she faced Caenno again. "So, what exactly did I say?"

Unexpectedly, he blushed. "You told me what Arlexus, um," and he cleared his throat nervously. "You said that the king has treated you less than respectfully, and that he was the one to abuse your friend."

"You knew that already, though," Kyrie said.

"Yes, but you also told of assassinations and treachery."

The queen blanched. "Who? Who dies?"

Caenno shook his head. "You didn't mention names." He cleared his throat again. "My lady, I would suggest that you do not sing again, unless you're in company that you trust."

"I agree." She ducked her head. "I can't always control it though. I didn't even realize I was singing to you."

"All the more reason to keep someone with you, if possible." He looked around. "I think you had best choose your guard now." Stepping to the door, he spoke to someone outside before showing in three men.

Kyrie looked to the three. They were all well-muscled, and from the noble's expression, she understood that all of them were acceptable for her purpose. The first one was a blonde behemoth, standing nearly a foot and a half above her average height. The second bore the dark skin and hair that identified him as a nomad from the eastern part of Linevriand. The third drew her attention simply by seizing her gaze with a pair of dark, sapphire blue eyes. She halted by him. "What is your name?"

"Baelund, my lady."

Taking a moment to examine him, she found no fault. She also found each of them to be much the same, but there was a hint of levity in Baelund that drew her more than the others. "Lord Caenno, will you release this man to my service?"

"I will, my lady."

She snagged Baelund's gaze. "Do you agree, sir?"

"I will happily serve you, my lady."

Nodding, she turned back to Caenno. "I thank you for providing me with protection. I shall take my leave now." When the noble nodded, she turned toward the door. "Baelund."

He silently stepped up behind her, and she told Caenno that she would speak with him again soon. The queen hurried back to her suite, eager to introduce him to Breka. Their trip through the halls went unchallenged and unseen but for a few servants. Once she was back in her suite, she nodded to Arelan and smiled.

"Arelan, this is Baelund. He has agreed to serve as protection for myself and Breka. Baelund, this is Arelan. He works in the garden and has come to our rescue."

The two men appraised each other. Baelund nodded and turned to the queen. "Where do you wish me to stand guard?" he asked.

She held up her hand and looked at Arelan. "Is Breka sleeping?"

"No. I believe she's working on some sewing."

Kyrie smiled. "Good. Baelund, please inspect the inner rooms, since you won't be disturbing my lady. If you don't want to intrude without an introduction, then just wait by the door. I need to speak to Arelan before he leaves."

"Yes, my lady."

As he stepped to the side, Kyrie led the gardener to the door and lowered her voice. "I cannot thank you enough for your help," she said, a small but genuine smile on her face.

He bowed his head in deference to her gratitude. "You are always welcome. If you have further need of me, you know where I will be."

She caught his glance toward Baelund. "Do you have reservations about my choice?"

"No." He smiled and opened the door. "I will see you later, my lady."

Kyrie bolted the door closed behind him and turned back to her new guard. "I see you chose to wait," she said as she crossed the room.

"I thought it would be best," he said.

"How much have you heard through the palace gossip?" she asked, curious about what was being said.

"Wildly varying stories, actually. Your lady was mistakenly poisoned in an assassination attempt on you, she was nearly beaten to death by an angry lover, she fell down the stairs fleeing from an overenthusiastic suitor, she fell ill from spoiled food... As you can tell, the stories have been creative, if not particularly accurate."

Kyrie raised an eyebrow, not certain if she should tell him that one of the current theories was much closer to the truth than the others. "And which story do you subscribe to?"

"All I know is that it was dangerous enough for you to plead your case before the king. That means that someone is threatening you, which means that I must be on my guard."

She smiled her appreciation for his vague but supportive answer. "Just a warning, but the servants in this part of the palace are known for their gossip."

Baelund nodded. "I will try to watch myself around them."

"Oh, you'll be part of the stories, I don't doubt, but as long as you neither confirm nor deny anything, it remains speculation." She entered her bedroom, looking immediately for her friend. Breka sat in a chair with a garment laying across her lap. The daylight flooding in from the balcony highlighted shadows under her eyes and the pallor that lingered on her face. The queen had to admit that her friend looked genuinely ill, not recuperating from a beating.

"Breka, please meet Baelund. He is the one who bravely answered Lord Caenno's offer for protection. Baelund, my lady-in-waiting and friend from childhood, Breka."

The two nodded to each other. The guard looked at the queen, and she nodded for him to go ahead and check out the room. He took his time, investigating the balcony, the wardrobe, the windows, even going in and investigating the bathing chamber. Once he had satisfied that he had the lay of the area, he bowed to Kyrie and excused himself to the outer sitting room, closing the door and leaving them alone.

"I know you wanted Arelan to stay with us in a more permanent capacity, but there are very good reasons why I took Lord Caenno up on his offer," the queen said, sinking into a chair near her friend.

"I'm listening," Breka said.

"First of all, Lord Caenno made the offer in public, in front of the court. It would have been a huge insult to turn down the offer." She sighed and let her head fall against the back of the chair. "Secondly, Lord Caenno is a powerful noble, and his influence carries a lot of weight with a lot of the lesser nobles. To the point that Arlexus would hesitate to cross him publicly."

"Oh," Breka said. "I didn't know – "

"I know you didn't. We haven't really had much time to talk since I went before Arlexus. Besides, turning down a favor to a well-placed noble just to keep a servant in place is just asking for trouble."

Breka sighed. "I can see that. I just – I trust Arelan, and I don't know Baelund."

"Well, the three men I could choose from were hand-picked by Caenno. I trust him, so by extension, I trust his man. However, I plan to keep on my guard. I'm not going to risk you or anyone else again."

"That's completely unrealistic, Kyri, and you know it."

"It is, but I have to try." Sighing at the necessity, she told Breka all about her confrontation with the king, the discussion of the current political standing, and the meeting with Caenno. The only thing she avoided speaking about was the discovery that she was the Speaker. Kyrie rationalized that she was not even sure she believed it herself, let alone spreading it to anyone else. Besides, the more people who knew about it, the more people she endangered.

Breka sat quietly throughout the whole recitation. Once Kyrie had finished, Breka poured her a drink from the chilled pitcher sitting beside her. The queen sipped the water and sighed at the sensation of cold water tracing all the way down to her belly.

"I'm so sorry," Breka said, breaking the silence.

"Sorry for what?" Kyrie blinked, trying to figure out why her friend thought she needed to apologize.

"When we first got here, I pushed you. Told you to be a queen. That putting up with some discomfort was worth the fancy clothes and the baubles." Breka shook her head. "None of this is worth it. And you've stepped up and become a queen, an excellent one. A real queen, not a spoiled girl playing dress-up."

"Breka..."

"No, I mean it. You grew up because you had to. You were smarter than us all, fighting to avoid this whole mess. You may not have known that marrying that lecher was a bad idea, but you knew that you weren't comfortable with it." She hung her head. "And when your father came to me, I agreed to help him."

"What? My father came to you – for what?"

Breka's sigh held the tears that she would not allow to fall. "He thought that you were just being childish about fighting this marriage. He thought he knew better, that he was providing a better life for you. I thought so, too. Wished for a long time that my father had survived to be able to give you the kind of security that Edol had negotiated. So that's why I pushed you so hard. I thought it was just nerves making you fight it. Or," she added sheepishly, "that you were so spoiled you didn't want to leave your home."

"Breka!" Kyrie said, gasping in shock. "You thought I was, my father thought..."

"Yes, we both thought you were just being spoiled." She sat up and finally squarely met the queen's stunned stare. "That's why I'm apologizing. We didn't know. How could we have known?" Her voice trailed off in shame.

The queen slumped in her chair. The fact that both her best friend and her father thought her so petty, so childish that she would fight this marriage simply to avoid leaving home shook her to her very core. The memories of the arguments, her father insisting that she would be happy, to give it time, all that faded into anger as she replayed those memories, this time focusing on his words, his actions. She flushed as she realized that her friend spoke the truth. His arguments had been nothing short of patronizing.

In her own defense, something about the whole situation had set against her from the outset. She had been sent to her sister's house during Arlexus's only visit, and Edol had traveled to Trynmore to negotiate further during subsequent visits. She wondered about how she could be thought of as petty or selfish when she was not included in any of the negotiations determining her life.

"Kyrie!"

"What?"

She touched the queen's hand but pulled back when Kyrie jerked her hand away. "I told you I'm sorry."

An angry grunt preceded Kyrie shaking her head. "I believe you. I'm just... I'm not quite ready to deal with my father at this moment."

"He did it for you. He believed he was giving you a chance to have more than you could've had staying in Mithlaris."

"No! He was trading me away! I was the bargaining chip in trade negotiations." Bits of information from conversations with Queen Dimitriadi, her father, and Arlexus himself combined to paint an unflattering picture. "My father wanted to capitalize on our copper mines and make money off of them. Instead, he put a target on Mithlaris for an avaricious lecher of a king and sold his own daughter off to be the youngest in a harem." Tears burned her eyes as she tried to put the words together. "Arlexus has ambitions, serious ones. Ones that will cost lives, thousands of lives, and will give him a foothold to take over our home! Our home, Breka! And I'm the excuse for Arlexus to seize control of Mithlaris!"

Surrendering to the rising sobs, she wrapped her arms around her middle and fell forward, bracing her head on her knees as she gave in to all the wrath, frustration, sorrow, loss, and fear that she had bundled up and tried to hide away in the last few days.

Breka stared in horror at the tearing noises that erupted. She had never intended her confession to unleash the reactions she was witnessing, but only knowing bits of the whole story had put her at a disadvantage again. Biting her lip against the stiff pain that had settled in after the attack, she eased her way off the sofa and into the floor to kneel beside the queen. Kyrie's weeping had already gotten to the gasping stage, and she held her friend, trying to weather the storm. After a few minutes, Breka was able to get the queen back into a sitting position, but the emotional tempest had taken its toll. The weeping subsided to tearful hiccups, but the aftermath of the outburst had sapped her strength. With tears still leaking from under closed lids, the queen fell asleep in the chair.

Sighing, her friend grimaced at the necessity of her next actions. Walking was difficult, but Kyrie could not stay in the chair. Using a decorative table, the sofa, and the chair, she levered herself upright and limped toward the door. "You, uh, guard," she said as she opened the door. "The queen needs your help."

Even though the man was standing by the main door to the corridor, the swiftness of his movements startled a gasp out of her as he pushed past her into the room. He noticed the queen slumped in the chair, her face red and blotched and gleaming wet with tears. His glance at Breka put her on the defensive.

"She's just exhausted. We had a... disagreement, and she finally let go of the stresses of the last few days. If you could just move her to her bed..."

Without a word, he walked over and gently lifted Kyrie from the chair and carried her to the huge bed. He waited patiently until Breka made her way over and turned the linens down before placing the queen comfortably on the mattress.

"I'll take care of her from here." Breka shifted uncomfortably as she glanced up into his face. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name."

"Baelund. I'm happy to serve the queen." With a small bow, he left the room.

She blinked at his abrupt dismissal, but could not really be too upset at him, since she had not exactly welcomed him with open arms. However, he seemed more than willing to go the extra mile for the queen, so that was worth a little friction. She turned her attention back to her friend. Getting her out of that dress was beyond her capabilities at the moment, so she pulled the sheet over Kyrie. Breka took care of washing away most of the evidence of the tears. She guessed that the queen would stay asleep for a while, so she carefully crawled up on the monstrous bed beside her. If Kyrie could watch over her while she slept after the beating, then she could return the favor and watch over the queen.

#### Chapter Eleven

Over the next couple weeks, life settled into a truce. Arlexus did not press to rejoin Kyrie in her bed, Breka healed from her ordeal and eventually moved out of Kyrie's room, and all the queens became accustomed to their new guards shadowing them and their children. Into this new normality trumpeted the announcement that Arlexus would be traveling to Crynmarth the following month and all his wives and their entourages would accompany him. The uproar that followed took days to settle to a mere circus.

Queens fought over the use of servants as they packed for the trip. Due to the number of people included, Arlexus ordered his three largest ships to be put at the party's disposal. Arlexus chose the flagship as his own, and due to some clever bargaining, Kyrie and her small party were packed onto the smallest ship. It took quite a bit of creative kowtowing to allow the other queens to believe that they had gained the advantage over her, relegating her away from the king. All she cared about was that she would have nearly a week with no chance of running into her husband.

Lord Caenno also decided to join the trip, although no one seemed to pay him much mind when he packed his entourage onto the smallest ship. Instead of it being an insult, he was honored to have been able to be included in the king's party. Any other nobles would have to arrange their own travel, which for most households was too much of an extravagance.

Zeala was also on the same ship as Caenno and Kyrie. That was one move that really surprised the youngest queen. She had assumed that the first wife and her son would have taken her position on the flagship, but there they were.

There was a feast the night before they sailed, and Kyrie had to deal with being the focus at the main table again. For one night, however, she smiled and made the best of it. She fared far better than Breka did, as her married lover had become common knowledge. The rest of the ladies pretended shocked horror at her inclusion into the evening's festivities, and spent the evening bouncing between bombarding Breka with questions, trying to get her to give up the name of her lover and ignoring her in self-righteous judgment.

Arlexus spent the evening taunting Kyrie, subtly making comments that she could not possibly respond to, leaving her to sit quietly and practice patience. The rest of the tablemates, including two of the wives that Kyrie still could not remember the names of, took great pleasure in his baiting of the 'special' wife. In spite of all the harassment, Kyrie tolerated the meal, knowing that she would enjoy the upcoming respite.

Boarding the ships the next morning went very smoothly for the youngest queen and her two companions. Breka had supervised the packing the day before, so between Baelund and the two dockworkers that were allotted for that ship, the queen's trunks were loaded quickly. Kyrie sat quietly until the men left the cabin, and once they gone, got up and began unpacking the items that they needed immediately, in spite of Breka's protests.

The cabin was actually a small suite, with a tiny sitting room that contained three chairs nailed to the floor and a cabinet with cleverly latched doors. The inner rooms split into two sleeping rooms with a small storage space in between. Kyrie quickly decided that she and Breka would take the sleeping room with the larger bed, and Baelund would get the second bed to himself. His protests were quickly shut down after it was pointed out that he would not function as much of a guard if he were run down and exhausted, and once they actually put to sea, the level of danger dropped sharply. He responded softly with tales of hidden assassins, but Kyrie stared at him and he just shrugged. She could swear he was teasing her.

Once they were underway, one of the servants brought along for general usage knocked at the door, bringing an invitation for Kyrie's party to join Lord Caenno and Queen Zaela for dinner. The queen quickly accepted.

The captain held dinner in a room that was obviously set aside for nobles and well-heeled merchants to use as a conference room. Tables had been pushed together and secured using brackets on the legs and on the floor to make a large center table, and the chairs encircling it were manned by servants. Lord Caenno easily assumed the lead, assigning seats and spreading the members of the families out. Conversation began slowly as an array of delicacies was served, before gaining in spirit as the courses continued. Kyrie marveled at Zaela's wit, which removed from the court's intrigue, was dry and amusing rather than biting and petty. Her son Arthrax overcame his shyness as Caenno and Breka focused on including him in their stories.

After the meal, the adults relaxed, appreciating the easy banter. Zaela chatted with Breka, while Caenno deftly cornered the young queen. "And how has life been recently, my lady?" he asked quietly as he held out his goblet for a passing servant to refill.

"I've had no reason to complain," she said as she mimicked his motion. Once they were left to their leisure, she spoke again. "I have no illusions that I'll be able to hold Arlexus from my bed for any length of time, but after the – well, since the last time, I've certainly enjoyed the respite."

"So, after our last conversation, I realized that given your somewhat isolated upbringing, I thought to offer up my knowledge of other areas of Nionosea. In return, I would like to draw upon your knowledge of the far eastern lands."

Kyrie shrugged with a rueful grin. "I'm not sure how much I can share. Alar and Mithlaris aren't exactly hubs of high civilization. In fact, if not for our copper mines and weaving, Mithlaris would just be a foggy, damp landmass on the edge of the world. Alar doesn't even have that, although they have one of the richest caches of herbs, both edible and healing. In fact, I believe most of the healers have to spend a while studying the hunting, harvesting, preparation, and administration of the local flora."

"See, now I never knew that Alar had _anything_ of value to offer," Caenno laughed. "I guess I only thought of it in reference to being half of the Whistling Straits, and nothing more."

"So, how much have you sailed? I've lived near there all my life and have never been through the straits."

He stroked his beard as he mentally tabulated. "I've traveled through the straits three times, but only braved the Sea of Lost Souls once. Once was enough, believe me."

"How did you manage to do that?" Kyrie asked curiously.

Laughing, he leaned back and crossed his legs. "Oh, quite easily, actually. When I was a boy, I sailed with my father to Tharloriand. We fought our way through Lost Souls, a truly sickening experience, then passed through the Straits to get to the city. When we left, a huge storm hit us just as we ventured back into the sea." He grimaced. "If the sailors hadn't been so experienced, we would have sunk. All these years later, I'm still not sure how we stayed afloat. So, we turned around and headed through the straits again. Since we had the option, we took on extra supplies and sailed home around The Barrens. Thus, three trips through the straits and only one through the sea."

The queen latched onto a name that generated questions. "The Barrens. I've heard that name thrown around the court, talking about the people there." She frowned. "My education in Mithlaris taught me that there were no people living in The Barrens, that the land itself was cursed. Are there people there?"

"Well, your training was accurate, for the most part. Legend is that there were people settled there hundreds of centuries ago, but some sort of evil influence tainted the land itself, driving people off of it and to the kingdoms that we know now. I honestly don't know how much of that is true." He sighed. "However, I do know that there are small clans and tribes that inhabit various areas. The most recent additions there are the clans of the Rune Forest that Arlexus ran out. They had nowhere else to go."

Kyrie's stomach twisted at the blatant revelation of her husband's ambitions. A few deep breaths quelled the uneasiness.

"Are you all right, my lady?"

She nodded. "Just wondering if we shouldn't have found a way to warn Queen Dimitriadi anyway." She waved her hand as he began to speak. "I know, you had valid reasons for waiting."

"Unfortunately, the political implications if we warned her erroneously outweighed the possible advantages. Telling a woman via messenger that her only son might want to kill her is not advisable."

"I know. It just feels like – " She frowned again and tapped her nails nervously on the table. "It feels like I should have sent a message anyway, one from me personally."

"You sit in a precarious position, my lady," Caenno said quietly. "You might be the favored daughter-in-law at the moment, but it's a situation that is difficult to leverage. While the queen holds very little influence over Arlexus, she does wield some influence within his court. Queen Dimitriadi is very popular among his people.

"However, if you were to send her a rumor about her son that turned out to be nothing but malicious gossip, any status you'd gained in her eyes, you stand to lose. And that would lose you position in the court, as well."

A sigh huffed out gustily. "This political intrigue is going to be the death of me."

Caenno grinned ruefully. "I didn't start this conversation to depress you, my lady. I envisioned more of a court lesson on titles and nobility, honestly."

"Oh." Kyrie chewed her lip as she considered. "Well, I'm sure I need tutoring in that, but I don't think I'm up for it tonight. Would you consider spending some time discussing that tomorrow?"

"Of course, my lady."

This time the queen's sigh aimed at him. "Lord Caenno, while in private, you have permission to call me Kyrie."

He smiled. "And I'd be honored if you'd return the favor and dispense with my title. Until tomorrow." As he drained his goblet, he glanced around and noticed that Zaela and Breka were still deep in conversation, but Arthrax had already left. The two bodyguards were standing sentinel by the door.

Nodding at her man, Caenno asked, "How is Baelund working out for you?"

A small smile graced her face. "He seems to be doing admirably. The only question I have is where to have him stand guard when Arlexus starts visiting my bed again." She blinked and blushed, realizing what she had let slip.

To his credit, the noble did not react. "I'm sure that problem will resolve itself appropriately."

Kyrie caught Breka's gaze, offering up a questioning look as to whether she was ready to go. Her friend smiled but shook her head. The queen nodded, counting herself blessed that she and Breka had such a close relationship that sometimes, no words were needed. She excused herself from Caenno, who assured her he would see Breka safely back to her cabin. Kyrie left with Baelund a step behind.

Once in the narrow corridor, she turned and asked, "Do you mind if we go out on the deck? I'd like a little fresh air before retiring."

"My lady, you don't need to ask my permission to do anything. I'm here to serve," he said with a slight smile.

She found herself returning the grin before quickly turning away. Breka's taunts about flirting haunted her, and she did not want to create any kind of situation to endanger Baelund, who in the last few days, had been nothing but helpful. "I'd like to spend a little time on deck, then."

The night was dark, and under two moons, the Glass Sea lived up to its name. The surface glinted in the moonlight, the sea wind causing little more than ripples to disturb the water. Kyrie stepped to the railing, inhaling the salty air and allowing the breeze to liberate strands of blonde hair to fly about her face. Lifting her face to the night, she grinned at the plethora of stars visible in spite of the moons.

"At least the other two moons are hidden, for now," Baelund said as he halted a step behind her. "It's a lovely night."

She sighed happily. "Oh, yes." Closing her eyes, she braced her hands on the rail and allowed her body to sway with the motion of the ship. "I can't believe how long it's been since I've been alone – alone to just enjoy a few moments without servants and courtiers and nobles and politicians and..." Opening her eyes and glancing at him, she smiled. "You do count as a person, but you aren't demanding anything from me."

Baelund did not smile, per se, but the dim light still caught the hint of amusement. "I never assumed otherwise, my lady."

"Ugh. Can you please just call me Kyrie, at least when we're alone?" she asked, irritation sketching a frown on her face. "I'm am so sick of being titled to death."

"Of course, my lady Kyrie."

The puckish humor on his face startled a genuine laugh from her. "Oh, Baelund, that was perfect. I'm so glad you volunteered for this duty." Letting her mirth die off slowly, she looked back out over the water. "Tell me about yourself," she said.

"Not much to tell, really. Mother was a distant cousin to the Riffin family. She was born on the wrong side of the blanket to one of the minor sibling lines. Her claim was just good enough to save me from working the family farm."

"What do you mean, her claim?" Kyrie asked.

He shifted his position, keeping a close eye on the changing of shift for the sailors. "Among the northern clans, it's traditional that if you can prove a strong enough claim to the Ardeth, then you may have one child from the family train with the nobles to become something other than just a laborer."

"Ardeth? I've never heard that before."

Baelund finally glanced her direction. "It's the traditional title of the leader of the Riffin clan."

Kyrie nodded. "Ah. I imagine that would be what Lord Caenno will be discussing with me later. He promised to educate me on the noble titles and such."

"Then I will leave further clarifications to him, since he can go into the nuances that I'm sure I'd stumble over." His gaze again swept over the deck, pinning a glare on any sailor who showed too much interest in the queen.

"So you trained with the nobles?" she asked after several long moments of silence.

"Yes. I began as a page, but when my skills with the bow became apparent, I was trained as an archer. I then went to work for the bowyer." He fell silent as a sailor wandered too close to them, but once they were left alone, he continued. "It was good work, and I learned a solid craft to turn my hand to."

The queen turned toward him, engrossed in his tale. "So what made you come to Caer Anthis?"

"I was called." When the silence grew, he glanced at the queen only to notice her questioning expression. "I wasn't physically called, but when the Ardeth made his yearly journey here, I volunteered." He hesitated before completing his explanation. "I just felt like my destiny no longer lay at home, that I would travel."

Kyrie chewed her lip as she tried to find a delicate way of asking her question. "Do you follow the priests? The ones that follow the Pantheon?"

"No. In fact, I'd never met anyone who didn't believe in the Ancient until I came here."

A glittery streak across the stars caught their attention and drew them away from the conversation. The queen inhaled deeply again, this time abandoning her questions as she reveled in the relative silence. The sails snapping, the ropes creaking, water splashing – it really was not quiet, but the sounds soothed her.

She remained at her vantage point until her feet started aching, as her slippers were made for looking pretty while dancing, not cushioning against hardwood decking. Reluctantly, she turned and smiled at Baelund. "I've satisfied my urge for solitude. Thank you."

His face lit in return, and he offered her his arm in the same manner she had become accustomed to at court. With a quick obeisance, she took it and allowed him to escort her back to the cabin. Once inside, she bowed her head in sincere thanks and retired to her room. Breka had returned while she was on the deck, and had fallen asleep with a book.

Kyrie changed for bed, putting her formal gown away neatly, although not as neatly as Breka could. Rolling her eyes at that, she crept into bed, careful not to wake the other woman. There were still some lingering yellowed bruises, particularly on her stomach and ribs, but the rest of them had faded out since the attack. A few quiet requests to Arelan had provided some herbal remedies that had eased the pain much more quickly than no assistance at all, since neither of them trusted Arlexus's healer.

Sleep did not come immediately. It had been long enough since her first time aboard ship that the rocking motion kept her awake rather than lulling her to sleep. After hearing the ship's bell ring the middle of the night, she sighed and rolled onto her side, curling in a ball. She had been affected the same way last time; it had taken nearly a week for her to be able to sleep on board. Even though this time her accommodations were far superior, the result was exactly the same.

Frustrated, she climbed back out of bed and slipped back out to the sitting room. With the doors shut, she lit a lamp and settled into one of the chairs with a book. Reading might not put her to sleep, but time passed much more quickly this way rather than staring at a dark ceiling and counting Breka's breaths. However, once she settled with her feet tucked up under her and the book in her lap, she dozed off quickly.

She roused briefly, knowing that someone was moving around her but unable to rise from the grip of the sound sleep to which she had succumbed. Something warm enveloped her, and the small wakeful part of her sighed, welcoming the relief from the cold she had not even consciously noticed. A somnolent sigh was her last wakeful action.

When the daylight was disrupted by a shadow falling on her face, Kyrie opened her eyes and peered up into a grinning face.

"Good morning," Breka said. "Sleep well?"

Rolling her head across the back of the chair, Kyrie cringed when she felt the muscles cramp from the awkward position. "Ugh." Frowning and stretching, she stared up at her friend. "How late is it?"

"Actually, the galley just sent breakfast up, so it can't be that late." She placed the heavy tray on the small table purpose made for it. "It looks fantastic."

The queen moaned as the smells hit her nose. "Good, I'm starved."

"Really?"

Kyrie did not notice the speculative note in the question as she stretched her feet out and set them back in the floor, wrapping the blanket over her lap. "Thanks for this, by the way," she said as she reached for the plate that Breka had assembled.

"Wasn't me," the other woman said. "I didn't know when you came to bed, didn't know when you were in bed, and only knew that you'd been to bed because I could see where you'd tossed and turned." She glanced toward the smaller room. "My guess would be your," and she cleared her throat, "friend in there."

Kyrie swallowed to clear her mouth enough so she could answer. "Remind me to thank him, then."

Breka nodded and the two fell silent as they ate. She watched the queen as she nearly devoured the food, which was unusual enough to merit attention. Kyrie normally ate very lightly in the morning and preferred her heavier meal to be midday meals, although that habit had been somewhat altered by the many feasts that her husband routinely threw. Even a typical evening meal was considerably more than they had served at home.

Then there was the disappearing act Kyrie had pulled the previous evening. If Breka hadn't noticed the rumpled bedding on the other side of the bed, she would have thought that the queen had found another place to stay. As it was, she had been in a panic until she found her friend curled up in the chair, sound asleep.

Breka had wondered, in the brief moments of doubt, where Kyrie would have sought sanctuary. As much time as Caenno had been spending with the queen, he would have been a reasonable guess, but Kyrie was too stubborn to violate the vows she had given, whether she had reason to or not, and the noble was happily married, so he was not logical choice. The only other remotely reasonable possibility was that she had turned to Baelund.

"So, now that we've had some time with him, what do you think of Baelund?" Breka asked.

"Think of him as what?" Kyrie said, paying more attention to her bowl of fruit than the question.

"I don't know. Bodyguard, friend... lover?"

"Lover?" Kyrie asked with a snort. "I barely know him." When she realized that her lady-in-waiting was waiting for an answer, she blinked in surprise. "Oh. You're serious." When Breka nodded, the queen laughed lightly. "The truth is I barely know him. Last night after dinner was the first time we'd spoken more than 'hello' and 'my lady.' There's nothing there to even call him a friend, although I like him well enough."

"So where did you go last night?" Breka asked, seizing the opportunity.

"Out on the deck. I just needed to clear my head." The queen went back to cleaning her plate. "Baelund stood watch over me while I watched the stars. It was a gorgeous night."

"And you talked?"

"A bit. He answered a few questions about how he came to be here." She laughed into her napkin. "In fact, I guess I was pretty nosy last night."

Having known Kyrie for years made Breka privy to all her friend's mannerisms and deceptive tells, and there were none in play. The answers were quick and spontaneous, with no twitches or shifting to indicate lying, so she believed that the queen did not think of her bodyguard as anything other than a servant. "Do you think you'd ever take a lover?"

For the first time, the queen displayed signs of discomfort. She mumbled something into her glass, which prompted Breka to ask again. Sighing, she finally said, "I've thought about it."

That was more than she had expected from the queen. "Really?"

"Yes. I wouldn't do it until after I've given Arlexus his son, but after that..." Kyrie sighed. "After that, who knows? But the whole thing is ridiculous right now. And my answer is no in the short term. I won't debase myself like that. _He_ might not respect me, but I respect myself and my family too much to betray them."

That was the answer Breka had expected. "You know I will stand by you, no matter what you choose."

Kyrie smiled. "I know. That's why I'll never put you in that position." Draining the juice from her goblet, she inhaled and sighed happily, releasing a loud belch. Breka giggled and promptly retaliated with a louder one, drawing the playfully frustrated scoff and giggles she had intended.

"For a moment, I thought I was back in the stables," a male voice said, startling both women into peals of laughter. Baelund smiled at the scene before shutting the door to allow them to retreat to their room, since the queen was not dressed for the day yet. After a moment, there was a quick knock at his door, and he opened it cautiously.

"There is plenty of food left on the tray, or you are free to go to the galley and get your own meal," Breka said.

"Thank you."

Kyrie took that time to choose a comfortable gown and prepare for the day. She was nearly dressed in the few minutes that it took Breka to join her. With her help, the queen was neatly dressed and had her hair braided back casually by the time they heard Baelund leave.

Once he returned, the two women decided how they would spend their first full day on board. Kyrie still had a meeting with Lord Caenno, while Breka chose to accept Zaela's invitation to join her. Baelund escorted them both, dropping Breka and her sewing off at the first wife's suite and the queen back up on deck, where Caenno was already ensconced in wooden chairs that seemed to be made for relaxing in the sun.

"Where were these on my voyage from home?" Kyrie asked, thrilled at the thought of enjoying the nice weather in comfort.

Caenno laughed. "The only ships who carry these are the ones who only travel the Glass Sea regularly. Any other body of water on Nionosea is far too turbulent to risk something like this." He made sure she was settled before he took the chair beside her. "Besides, I think it also has something to do with being the king's ships."

"Ah." After a moment of soaking up the late morning sunshine and tucking her skirts tight against the stiffer breeze than the night before, Kyrie turned to him. "Baelund called you the Ardeth last night. I thought your family name was Riffin."

"And so it begins," he laughed. "My family name, and the province name, is Riffin. However, our particular title system within Onarias is, well, it's complicated." Settling back into his seat, he began. "When the Onarian clans began settling the balance of power, many centuries ago, several individual clan chiefs stood out. One was Ardeth Riffin. As he gained influence and power, he became known as The Ardeth. That idiosyncrasy carried over to other families, and when the next generation began taking over, the name, in my case Ardeth, became more of a title than a name. So, my full title is Ardeth Caenno Riffin of Onarias."

"I see," Kyrie said.

"Now, I told you before that there were four ruling families that authorized the king. Riffin is the lone survivor. However, two other original clans rose to prominence in their places. One, the Hebrook family, absorbed the remains of one of the original clans into their clan. Their title is Caerphy, and the current noble is Caerphy Tane Hebrook. The other is Glaene Wulfe Moorwood, and the Moorwoods came to power when they married the last of the Thraford house.

"So today, these three families are known in Onarias as Old Blood. The Ardeth, the Glaene, and the Caerphy. Now, there are two other families that ally, loosely, with the Old Blood," and he smiled at that admission. "The Qasri and the Myari are two of the clans that have joined our court since Arlexus has taken Erialar. The Myari are based in Erialar itself, while the Qasri control the land bridge between the two lakes. Their titles don't have the same derivation as ours. They use the more universal title of Lord."

Kyrie laughed softly. "At last, a title that I'm familiar with." A thought occurred to her and she brought her hand up, covering her mouth in embarrassment. "I haven't offended you, have I, by calling you Lord? I was taught that it was an appropriate mark of respect."

Caenno returned her laugh. "Not at all. I'm used to it, especially from the Linevrians. Their nobility system is even more complicated than ours, believe it or not. In most diplomatic instances, it's culturally acceptable to use Lord as a title. It's preferable to trying to use a proper title and being incorrect."

"Good." The queen accepted a drink from the servant that made the rounds. She sipped and sighed. "My father is what would be considered king, but his title is High Shield. The other clan leaders are Clan Shields. Pretty simple by comparison."

"I knew about the High Shield, but I didn't know the clans had their own individual versions." Caenno took a long swallow before continuing. "If we're going on simplicity, then I suppose Andothorn is the next in line. They have a four level class system. The Jopha are the ruling class, thus Arlexus's title of Heir to the Jopha Dynasty. Then there is a level of lesser nobility called the Divarya. They are usually the local governors, land owners, and high-ranking priests. The merchants and high-ranking craftsmen have their own rank, the Bhaniya. Then the rest of the population, the commoners and laborers are known as the Kumasa.

"But I neglected to finish my lesson on Onarian nobles," he said with a grimace.

"What else is there?" she asked. "Arlexus and the Old Blood, right?"

A glimmer of a smile flickered across his face. "Well, Old Blood implies there's a group of New Blood," Caenno said. "For Arlexus to be able to move on his ambitions, he needed support – financial, mostly, but also manpower. That's one of the reasons why he took Erialar and the Rune Forest. New territory means that there need for new rulers, new nobility who will owe him. That's where the Pavi, the Inan, the Shahri, and the Khastri families come in. Technically, the Qasri and the Myari took loyalty oaths to Arlexus, but both families are still loyal to King Athan, although they do nothing that would make him think that they are anything less than supportive nobility."

Kyrie let her head fall back against the chair. "What have I gotten into?" she asked. "I thought just dealing with the court was bad."

"You can honestly tell me that there wasn't any kind of politics played in your own home?" Caenno asked, his questioning gaze displaying his doubt.

"Oh, we had some petty bickering, but nothing, nothing like this," she said, shaking her head. "I mean, one of the major problems I saw was where two of my sisters both wanted the same Shield's son. Father had to step in and make the call as to which one he would give blessing."

The noble stared at her. "Are you serious? That was the biggest issue?"

She blinked at the disbelief he displayed. "Well, maybe not the largest problem, but one of them. I mean, I consider the biggest one to be me begging Father to marry me off to anyone in Mithlaris he wanted, that I didn't want to come here, but the other issues were more important to others."

Conversation died as Caenno contemplated her assertions. When he finally spoke, their beverages were long gone and the sailors had changed watch. "I am so sorry, my lady," he finally said.

"Sorry for what?"

"I cannot imagine what it must be like to be so sheltered all your life and then be thrown into this cesspit."

She shrugged. "I'm learning."

Caenno shifted and faced her more squarely. "I was raised in this environment, trained to play this game from age ten. My father explained courtly procedures and political intrigue along with weapons training and stewardship. You are to be commended, Kyrie. You are truly an impressive woman to be thrown into this and not only survive, but even beat the king at his own game."

"I didn't beat Arlexus," she said quickly. "I simply forced him to rethink his methods. He'll never tolerate not having complete control of me." She allowed her words to cease as she weighed the implications of the notion that had crossed her mind. Inhaling to bolster her courage, she asked, "Would it be wise to sing for you right now?"

"Right here?" Caenno asked. "Where did that request come from?"

Kyrie squirmed in her seat. "I, um, it was just a thought that occurred to me. If you want me to, that is."

"I would be honored."

"The only condition is that you don't tell me what I say."

He blinked at her request. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't tell me. I need to see how this will work." The queen frowned and stared out at the sea while trying to frame her argument. "If you really think I'm the Speaker, then has to be a reason that I speak in languages other than ones I understand. Also, call it an experiment, since when I have sung, it has been in tongues that are understood by the people near me at the time." Biting her lip nervously, she looked back at Caenno. "Does that make sense?"

"Actually, it does. Sing for me then."

Looking around to make sure that there were no sailors close enough to hear her, she closed her eyes and began humming softly. Meaningless syllables and sounds flowed from her lips, and she sang out what she realized had been buzzing in her mind all morning. When she finished, she opened her eyes, blinked against the light, and braced herself to look at Caenno.

His face was white, and that scared Kyrie so much that she nearly reneged on her request and asked what she said. As it was, she could not completely avoid the temptation. "Did I make any sense?"

Caenno cleared his throat. "Too much, I'm afraid." The heaviness on his face did not ease her trepidation at all. "We will need to wait to make sure what you're saying is true, not that I doubt you, but this is... this is..." His words sputtered to a halt.

"Should I have sung?" Her question was barely audible above the wind and waves.

"Forewarning is always appropriate, even when the news is far from pleasant." He fell silent, obviously in deep thought. Within moments, he excused himself and headed below deck to his cabin.

Kyrie sat on the deck, alone. By his reaction, whatever she had sung had been dreadful. A shudder of fear wormed its way down her spine, bringing forth gooseflesh in spite of the warm day. What had she done to deserve this burden?

"Is there a problem, my lady?"

She jumped, having forgotten that Baelund was still standing guard over her. "Nothing I can do anything about, apparently," she said. "I think I'll return to my cabin right now, if you'd like."

He did not speak but extended a hand and assisted her to her feet. The corridors were busier than they had been the night before, but they were not hindered on their path. Once inside, she realized that her lack of sleep was weighing on her, so she thanked Baelund and stumbled into her room. The bed beckoned like it had not the night before, so she shed her outer wrap and laid down, still wearing her day dress. Sleep claimed her immediately.

#### Chapter Twelve

The next two days passed slowly. Caenno stayed in his quarters, for the most part, leaving the ladies to their own activities. Kyrie still suffered from insomnia, so she read at night and napped during the day. Breka was unusually quiet, although she did get Kyrie to host a lunch for Zaela. The two wives, youngest and oldest, had an entertaining afternoon. As she opened up, Kyrie picked up a lot of information that she did not think that the older woman meant to spill.

When Zaela finally left her cabin, Kyrie contemplated taking another nap, but instead sought out Breka.

"So, you've talked to Zaela quite a bit," she said.

Breka nodded as she picked a knot out of the thread in her needlework. "We've gotten along," she admitted.

After broaching the subject, Kyrie hesitated as she tried to frame her question. "Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary when she's by herself, not surrounded by the other wives?"

Looking up, Breka nodded. "She's much more pleasant away from the others. Quite funny, too. If she hadn't told me, I'd never know that she was Caenno's cousin."

"He mentioned that fact to me." Kyrie pulled out her own project and began sorting the threads. "Have you spoken to Arthrax much?"

"Not too much. He's such a shy boy."

The queen frowned. "I don't think he's that young." She let the silence settle for a moment before prodding again. "Don't you think that Arlexus's heir apparent would be more involved in his affairs? More outgoing?"

Breka caught Kyrie's gaze and held it. "What are you fishing for?"

"Your opinion on this whole situation." She returned the stare evenly. "We both know that there is something seriously wrong in this court. I want to know what you see."

"Zaela does not like Arlexus at all. She married him when he was only fifteen, and since she had a son, he hasn't visited her at all." Breka sighed. "And from what I gather, she's quite happy that way. Palace gossip identifies her current paramour as one of the lesser nobles that spends about half the year in the court."

"Really? Which one?"

"The older gentleman. Slightly graying, somewhat pudgy, but handsome in a fatherly sort of way."

"Oh, I know who you mean. Always requests that dreary song right before bed, swears it helps him sleep."

Breka laughed. "That's him!" She pulled a few stitches through the fabric before continuing. "It was a political match, the only one Queen Dimitriadi ever had input on. After he married again, she happily retired to her suite and concentrated on raising Arthrax. In fact, she tried to go back to her family home several times, but after Arlexus threatened to keep Arthrax in the court and banish her so that she couldn't see him anymore, she returned to his palace and is just biding her time until she can leave."

"And what about her son?"

The silence stretched out before Breka answered. "I think she's done everything she can to keep him removed from the court. He has no interest in what his father does. I think if he had a choice, he wouldn't have anything to do with ruling at all."

"Did she say anything else about the rest of the wives? Or about Arlexus?" Kyrie asked.

"She doesn't like any of the others. Too much jealousy and backstabbing going on. However, she feels sorry for you, since it was obvious that you had no idea what you were getting in to. All the other wives came from political families. She also thinks that Hirtha has designs on the throne for her son, in spite of all the sayings and prophecies about you and your son."

"What does she say about our husband?"

"She had heard some quiet rumors, none of which she really doubted. There have apparently been other girls, mostly servant girls or locals that could be bought off or sent away to one of his country houses." Breka fell silent.

"What is it?" the queen asked.

There was a catch in her voice when she finally spoke. "Apparently, I wasn't the first to be caught in a compromising situation with him, but I am the first to survive it."

Kyrie gasped. No matter what she thought of her husband, information just kept surfacing to drag her opinion lower and lower. Her stomach churned with trepidation as she began to truly realize the depth of the bog into which she had been dropped.

They sat in silence, sewing and passing time. Since neither of them felt like socializing that evening, they ate in their cabin. What had begun as a relaxing week without Arlexus had turned into a nerve-wracking wait for the other shoe to drop.

The night before arriving in Crynmarth, Caenno met with Kyrie one last time. There was no illusion of genteel mingling, only a solemn meeting at the railing of a ship.

"I know you've wondered why I haven't said anything about your song," Caenno opened, staring out at the distant coastline illuminated in the setting sun.

"Yes and no. I know I told you something that upset you," she said, mimicking his position.

"Yes... and no." The echo of her own words drew her gaze to him. "In the morning, we will dock and see if your words were prophetic or not. I, as do most Onarians, pray that you are wrong." For the first time, he allowed himself to meet her stare. "If you are right, then I owe you a huge apology."

Kyrie shook her head. "There is no time to waste on apologies, and they do no good if they are self-serving. Just focus on getting through this."

"How do you... Do you know what's going to happen?" he asked, his eyes widening.

"Not any more than you do, but I can read your body language. Whatever I sang about is bad, and considering where we're going, I can guess what I said." Kyrie dropped her head and stared into the water. "I was the youngest daughter in a houseful of daughters. My earliest clothes were remnants from what my sisters had outgrown. I was the baby, having the least amount of responsibility and from the time I was old enough to realize that boys were something more than irritants, all I wanted was to find some nice man who wasn't too much older than me, get married, and settle down on his farm.

"I never asked to be queen, never wanted it. Fought against it fiercely. But for the good of the family, my father said. For the good of the family.

"Now," she said, stiffening her back and lifting her gaze a little. "Now, not only am I some kind of prophesied queen in a palace full of queens, but you have nearly convinced me that I am an Anointed of the Ancient, responsible for more than my own little corner of a palace in Caer Anthis, but bearing the burden of delivering truth to the whole of Nionosea. I'm not ignorant, Ardeth Caenno. I am well-versed in the duties of the Speaker, the Listener, and the Seer. I know that the Seer and the Healer are welcomed for their abilities. I also know the onus of the Speaker and the Listener.

"I never wanted all this." Her voice had dropped to just above a whisper, and Caenno strained to hear her. "I will be reviled for speaking the truth that others want to ignore. But as much as I want to stow aboard another ship and disappear from public sight, I can't."

When she finally fell silent, the noble felt the weight of the burdens placed on this young woman's shoulders. Capable shoulders, he told himself. "If there is ever anything I can do to help you, I will do it," he said, his voice just as low as hers. The traitorous words were whisked away on the wind, but the queen heard them and took them to heart, even if she did not acknowledge them.

"I assume there will be some sort of coronation for Arlexus soon," the queen said, breaking the silence between them.

"Probably as soon as his entire court can be assembled, assuming that there are no other Andothorian nobles that need to come from too far away."

"Then as soon as the coronation is finished, will he stay here to rule or will he go back to Caer Anthis?"

Caenno hesitated over this question. "Politically, it would be wise of him to remain in Crynmarth until he has confirmation from all the Jopha, then probably most of the Divarya and maybe a few of the more prominent Bhaniya. Once he has cemented his base of power here, then he will move back to Caer Anthis. At least, that is what I would advise him to do."

Kyrie blinked in surprise. "You still want to advise him to strengthen his power? So he can act on all his ambitions?"

"It's not that simple. I still need to keep as close to him as I can, keep in a position where I can not only observe, but be in a place where I can act, if I need to. I must support him while he assumes his other legitimate throne."

"Yes, I see that," she sighed. Shaking her head, she straightened. "I will prepare, as much as I can. Thank you."

She turned to leave, and Caenno caught Baelund's attention and waved him over. The guard asked the queen to wait for a moment as he stepped to the noble's side. Caenno spoke his words quickly and quietly, then nodded in dismissal. Kyrie until they were in the corridor before she asked what had been said.

Baelund waited until they were in the cabin before he spoke. "He required my assurances that I would protect you until my last breath."

The queen stared at him for a long moment before speaking. "May it never come to that," she said quietly before entering her room.

### ~~~~

Departing the next morning progressed easily, until the entourage got off the docks and into the city. The normal crowd clatter ramped up into riotous clamor nearly instantaneously. As long as the carriage kept moving, they decided not to stop, but when a loud bang against the side coincided with the horses being dragged to a halt and the coach lurching perilously to one side, Caenno slipped outside.

Kyrie sat with Breka pressed against one side, Baelund on the other, and faced across the way to where Zaela and Arthrax sat, with her guard sitting on the small middle bench that faced the door. Within a couple minutes, Caenno slipped back into his place beside his cousin. His sun-darkened skin was pale enough to send a thrill of fear through the youngest queen.

"What is wrong, Caenno?" Zaela asked, having also noticed his pallor.

He met Kyrie's fearful gaze with genuine sorrow before answering the question for everyone else. "Queen Dimitriadi is dead."

Kyrie closed her eyes, trying to shut out the details that the noble spilled. He spoke of an illness, one that affected the entire court. Dimitriadi was not the only fatality, numbers varied between three and a dozen. The queen may have been the most prominent victim, but rumors of several high-ranking nobles joined with her name. Even servants had been vulnerable. The court physicians were calling it a plague, but Kyrie knew it for what it was. This was a genuine assassination, and she had no doubt that the fatalities were carefully chosen and marked for death, as opposed to the others who were simply sickened to cover the crime. When Caenno finally said when Dimitriadi had died, Kyrie shuddered, recognizing the date as the evening she had sung for him aboard ship.

The shock and horror echoing inside the coach overwhelmed her, and Kyrie fought to breathe in the stifling atmosphere. She shuddered and finally opened her eyes to find Caenno watching her.

"So, what do we do now?" she asked quietly.

"Our rooms have already been prepared for us in the palace, or so I would hope since our arrival was anticipated. I have nothing more to go on than that."

The silence inside the carriage stood in direct contrast to the cacophony outside. It took several minutes to get moving again, but once they did, it was a relatively short trip to the palace. Kyrie could not stop shivering, in spite of the warmth of the weather and the two bodies packed in closely beside her. The noise level dropped suddenly before the carriage jerked to a stop.

Kyrie caught Caenno's gaze quickly and held it, trying to communicate her need. To her relief, she got her message across as he deftly handed the occupants out to be taken to their suites. Baelund and Breka waited outside until Kyrie disembarked.

"I sang about this, didn't I?" she whispered once they were alone.

"Yes. That and a few other things."

She drilled him with a sharp stare. "Don't let him get away with it." She exited the carriage without his help and allowed the palace servants to guide her small retinue to their rooms.

Their servant assured them that although food would be brought to their rooms for a midday meal, there was a dinner of sorts being planned for the evening meal, although it would not be as lavish as they had expected for a welcome feast. Breka assured him that those arrangements were fine, given the circumstances, and ushered the obviously distraught lady out of the room. Baelund took up his position by the door as the women quietly sorted out the luggage and put thing things away for the coming days.

"With the queen dead, what will become of us?" Breka asked.

"There will be a coronation for Arlexus," Kyrie answered absently.

They worked for a few more minutes before Breka spoke again. "How does that change Arlexus?"

"As king of Onarias, and king of Andothorn, he will control a huge portion of this part of the world." Kyrie's words were true, even if they did not reflect the full, terrifying truth.

"Stop trying to soften the blow. I know that this makes our situation that much more dangerous."

The young queen sat down suddenly and burst into tears. The weight of her burdens had finally overwhelmed her, and she let herself purge. Breka, embarrassed that she had been the final straw that had broken her friend, knelt beside her and held her tightly, rocking slightly as she let Kyrie cry herself out. She whispered soothing nonsense, trying to ease the sobs that had roughened into great, tearing spasms. Breka's back was aching by the time the paroxysms ceased and the queen fell limp against her.

"Baelund, some help," she said as she struggled to hold Kyrie still.

He rushed over and easily lifted the exhausted queen like a child, letting her lady lead him as she tried to find the best place to let Kyrie sleep out her collapse. The huge bed in the main room proved to be the spot, and after they had settled her, Breka and Baelund left as silently as they could.

"Thank you," she said. "I couldn't have gotten her to bed without your help."

"I've noticed that she doesn't seem to be sleeping well recently," he said.

Breka shook her head. "It's nothing. She can't sleep on board a ship. It took her most of the voyage over the Great Deep to get into any kind of normal sleep pattern. I'm actually surprised that she slept as well as she did, given her history."

"Whatever you need, just let me know," he said with a respectful bow of his head. "I'm only here to serve."

She inhaled to say something, but changed her mind. He turned away before she decided again and grabbed his sleeve to stop him. "If anything happens to me, make sure she is protected. I've caused her enough hurt as it is."

"It is my duty and my pleasure," he said softly. "I will watch over both of you."

"But if you ever have to choose between us," she said, holding his gaze with a steely stare of her own, "choose her." Having made her point, she turned on her heel and retreated to the sleeping room and closed the door, knowing that he was taking guard on the other side.

#### Chapter Thirteen

Dinner that night was a solemn affair, and most faces showed signs of tears, including Arlexus. Kyrie viewed his public display of grief with a jaundiced eye, but said or did nothing to allow her true feelings escape. The food was plentiful, if not a huge variety. Conversation was muted, with even the wives keeping any fighting and backbiting to a minimum. Caenno sat at the high table, not far from the king. That conversation was one of the few to show much animation.

Instead of the traditional after-dinner entertainment, everyone sat quietly while a minstrel, purported to be Dimitriadi's favorite, sang songs of her reign and of her late husband. What were identified as traditional mourning songs wound up the quiet evening.

After the court had retired, a single man, wearing the Andothorian livery but his sun-burnished skin looking out of place, slipped through the silent corridors and sought admittance to Arlexus's suite.

"Here to report, sir," he said, his salt-roughened voice betraying his occupation.

"Have you now," the king said, glancing with interest at the man. "And what do you have to report about the dealings of my youngest wife and my noble?"

"Nothing, sir. They didn't do anything."

Arlexus frowned, staring hard at the sailor. "What do you mean, nothing?"

"I mean they did nothing out of the ordinary. First night on board, everyone had dinner together and the queen and Lord Caenno met for a while after, but she left before most of them. He went back to his cabin and didn't leave at all that night.

"The next morning, they talked for an hour or so out on the deck, in full view of everyone. They didn't meet again until the night before we docked, and only then for a few minutes, no more."

"What did they talk about when they sat on the deck?" the king asked.

"He gave her a lesson on the nobles, explaining titles and such. That's all."

Arlexus stood and paced around the room, deep in thought. Finally he turned and faced the man. "And what did my wife do the whole week?"

"Typical things. She and her lady spent quite a bit of time with your other queen, doing sewing and woman stuff, chatting. Other than that, she spent a lot of time napping. One of the servants was overheard talking about how the young queen has a problem sleeping at night while she's at sea. Had the same thing happen when she came over the Deep from her home."

The information was drastically different than what he expected. "What were the sleeping arrangements for my wife? Where did her guard sleep?"

The sailor frowned. "Don't know anything other than what the servant said, that the lady complained about the queen not being able to sleep was keeping her awake at night. My guess is they shared the big bed."

"Thank you. Dismissed."

The sailor bowed and left, but the king did not notice his absence. He was already pacing again, processing the information he had been given. When Caenno had spent so much time meeting with Kyrie before the trip, he thought he could finally catch the girl at a disadvantage, something he could use to break her. He knew that she was very insecure about her reputation at court, and the hint of improprieties with one of his most prominent nobles would be a powerful tool. The fact that they spent so little time together, and what time they did share was well-supervised hamstrung him.

He was sure that his wife would not allow herself to be unfaithful to him. Both her father's reassurances on her upbringing and her integrity and Kyrie's own actions allowed him the luxury of believing in her loyalty. However, she would bow to any hint of scandal that suggested otherwise. Arlexus's choice to put Kyrie and Caenno together on a ship to give them access to each other should have led to some compromising situations, but after that report, he had nothing to work with. Anything he suggested would be quickly refuted.

As much as he did not want to go with such a drastic measure, his wife's proper behavior was forcing his hand. He could not allow her to be used by anyone else; he would not share her. If political maneuvering would not work, then removing her support system would. He could not strike at Caenno – he still needed the noble's support and finances, at least for the short term, but he would remove him later, when it was more expedient.

He sat at his desk and wrote out a short summons. There were few servants available, as nearly half of them were still recovering from the recent plague, but eventually he got one to deliver his message. While he waited for his man to appear, he walked to a window, staring out over the well-lit city. His city now, he told himself, enjoying the thought. He smiled at the whitewashed buildings that shone pearly bright under the two moons. Later the third one would rise, but there was still enough light from just two to illuminate the city. Crynmarth, City of Markets. Merchant to the whole world of Nionosea, and it was his. His.

The arrival of his man interrupted his avaricious planning. Putting aside his glee, he sobered before turning around. Motioning for the man to sit, he took his time getting to the point. It had taken his a long time to find someone as useful as this one had proved to be, and he reserved his use for those truly delicate situations.

"I need for you to arrange an accident."

The man nodded. "Who and when?"

"My wife's lady and the man who guards them. I'd prefer that my wife was with them, so she could witness the... incident first-hand."

"How do you want it to happen?"

The king contemplated the question. "I think I'll have someone plant a suggestion that the three of them need to do some shopping in the markets. I'll let you know when they leave the palace. As to how, well, the markets are usually quite safe, but with my mother's death, naturally the people are rather... unsettled, so a rogue element would not be a surprise. Don't you think?"

"Any particulars needed?" he asked.

Arlexus shook his head. "I just want that woman dead and my wife unharmed."

"It will be done."

He left after being dismissed, and the king was left with his thoughts again. It really was a shame that he had to get rid of the lady-in-waiting, especially since his wife had outflanked him politically in securing her protection; stalking her had been a thrill he had not experienced in many years. The local girls were too docile for his liking, no challenge anymore.

Heaving a huge sigh, he resigned himself to the somewhat lesser pleasure of imagining the chaos he was about to put his lovely wife through. That would teach her to withhold herself, any part of her. The sooner he could get that son from her, the better. And if he happened to break her in the process, all the better. Encouraged by that realization, he set his papers to order and went to bed.

### ~~~~

The next morning, Kyrie was awakened by a servant passing a sheaf of papers to Breka. Blinking against the bright morning light, she let her head drop back onto the pillow. She knew that if they were for her, Breka would bring them to her.

Her first night back on land had been an adjustment, as she had barely had time to adjust to the sea travel. Although it had taken her a while to get to sleep, she had slept soundly, if not for long enough.

"Hungry yet?" Breka asked, carrying in a large silver tray.

Kyrie blinked and realized that she had dozed off. Sitting up and blinking furiously, she nodded and smiled. Breka put the tray between them as she took a seat on the bed. Although there was not the variety she had become used to, there was still plenty for the two of them. As she picked up a sweet bread roll and bit into it, she frowned. "Is there enough for Baelund, too?"

"He went to the kitchen for his," Breka said as she nibbled on some cubed fruit pieces.

"Good." The cooked grain cereal, bread rolls, and fruit were cleaned off the tray before a servant came to clear it away.

Kyrie laid back and stretched, comfortable with her full stomach. "What were those papers that got dropped off?" she asked.

"It's a packet for you. I didn't realize you were awake to see them arrive. You slept for another hour before breakfast came."

"An hour?" she asked, sitting back up quickly. "You shouldn't have let me sleep so late."

Breka shrugged. "It's not like you got that much sleep on the ship. I figured that any sleep you could get here on dry land would be of benefit, since we're only going to be here for a little while and then we have to go back." She frowned at the queen. "Or are we going back? Will this be our new home?"

"I have no idea," Kyrie said, shaking her head. "I'm sure they'll want to crown Arlexus soon, but I don't know anything beyond that." She scooted back against the head of the bed, piling up a few pillows before accepting the packet of papers from Breka and opening them.

Caenno had sent word. As she read through the sheaf, she noticed that everything was carefully worded so as to not be suspicious, but he passed on as much information as he could. He gave strict details, no slant or suspicions noticeable, although given their previous conversations, she easily picked out the bits that informed her of what had really happened.

Once she had gone through them thoroughly, making sure she had not missed anything, she gave them to Breka so she could read them. Once she was done, they sat and looked at each other. Kyrie looked around the room, trying to wordlessly warn Breka not to speak of the matters yet, and she nodded in relief when her friend demonstrated her understanding.

"Shall we go out and do some shopping, my lady?" Breka asked, on the off chance that someone could hear them.

"I think that will be fine," the queen answered. "Let's get ready and go out before it gets too late."

They were dressed and waiting when Baelund came back from his breakfast. The three of them slipped out quietly, walking to the market instead of taking a carriage. Delicious aromas from a baker's shop tempted them to be the first stop, in spite of the fact that all three of them had just eaten. They found a small park area where they could munch on the treats, and after making sure that they couldn't be overheard, Kyrie began to spill the what all she had learned since the attack.

The news that she was the new Speaker stuck in her throat, but since Breka had been on the receiving end of the queen's intransigence, Kyrie forced the words out. Both Breka and Baelund displayed their shock, Breka with a loud gasp and the guard with a stunned look on his face.

"I don't understand," Breka said, eyes wide and voice low. "The Speaker lives in Evralond or somewhere."

"He lived in Linevriand, at least until he died. That's what Caenno said."

"But," and she shook her head in frustration, "Kyri, I've never heard you say anything like the Speaker would say. I mean, nothing."

The queen drew in a long breath. "That's because when I speak the truth, I don't exactly... say it." Another deep breath was inhaled and exhaled before she could explain. "I sing it."

They all sat silent. The food lay forgotten between them as they all processed the revelations.

"Then we must be on our guards," Baelund said, breaking his silence. "If the king can be responsible for the murder of his mother and a dozen other people, then no one is safe, not even you."

"I disagree. Until I have a son for him to use, I am the safest person in the world. Once I give him that son, though, I'm as good as dead." Kyrie refused to lift her eyes from the grass between them. "I know this, and I've... I've come to terms with it. I'm not saying I'm happy, but at least I know what to expect. And maybe be able to plan for it."

Whatever rebuttal she would have gotten from her friends was interrupted by a royal messenger riding through the market, announcing the official date for King Arlexus's coronation. The two women looked at each other.

"Well, at least now we have a very valid reason for shopping," Breka said. "We certainly didn't pack any gowns appropriate for a coronation. The three formal gowns we did bring are beautiful, but more suited to evening entertainment rather than an all-day affair."

"And nothing at all for mourning," Kyrie said. She looked at Baelund. "We'll need to dress you, too. We're all sticking as close together as we can."

The merchants in Crynmarth did not know Kyrie by sight, but once she displayed the same letter of credit that she showed at the Caer Anthis marketplace, they were a little more receptive. Breka hired a runner to go back to the palace to get an official Andothorian line of credit. While they were waiting, the three perused the shops, deciding what they wanted. Kyrie and Breka both chose gowns in the traditional mourning dark green, both understated in style and grandeur but well-suited for a royal funeral. The coronation gowns were a little trickier, but Breka found a deep red that flattered her chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Kyrie finally found a blue-gray silk brocade that was a few shades deeper than her eyes. Baelund looked handsome in the white silk tunic and black trousers, while his subdued mid-green tunic and dark green trousers were appropriate for the funeral.

Their timing was excellent, because as they had made their choices, the runner came back and presented them with a credit letter with the royal seal of the Jopha showing prominently. When that was seen, the merchants fell over themselves to serve the queen. However, all that was necessary was to pay for their purchases and make arrangements for all the parcels to be delivered the next day.

Baelund took the precaution of leading them back to the palace in a very roundabout path, making sure that no one followed them. When he spotted someone who seemed suspicious, he pushed the women into the closest shop and watched until he was satisfied that they were safe. In that manner, he got the three of them safely back into their suite.

The official schedule of the upcoming events waited on the table. Kyrie read it, frowning. "The coronation is first," she said. Breka shared her look of confusion and disgust.

"That is traditional in Onarias," Baelund said. "The new ruler will then lead the people in mourning the late ruler."

"Oh," the queen said. "I didn't realize."

She and Breka shrugged at yet another divergence in customs and then began preparing for dinner.

### ~~~~

Down the corridor, a servant watched the trio retreat into the suite. He had received word that they were already in the market, so he hurried to put his plan into place. The king had implied that he would have more time to set up and plan, but not even a full day passed before they went.

It did not help that he had also underestimated that guard. Twice, the man had spotted him, which had not happened in ages. Although, to be fair, he normally operated in Caer Anthis, where the ones who were alive to recognize him were careful to never notice him again.

He jotted a quick note, knowing that the king would want to hear the news that they were still alive from him rather than being surprised at seeing them sit down at dinner. He offered no excuses, just stated the facts that the job was not done yet. Having seen how they moved and how the guard watched and operated, he was prepared to be successful the next time. There would be no third attempt.

#### Chapter Fourteen

The post-coronation feast raged below, to the point where Kyrie could still hear the revelry echoing into her suite. Disgust of her husband's behavior drove her to claim illness and retreat from the dining room. Breka had supported her out of the hall, but once out of the heat and heavy food odors, the nausea that had given her a valid excuse to leave nearly overwhelmed her instead of relenting. Baelund stepped in to assist when he realized that the queen genuinely needed it. Once they were out of sight of the bulk of the servants, he swept the queen into his arms and carried her to her room.

Once inside, she barely made it to the chamber pot before losing everything she had eaten at the feast. Breka stepped in, lending aide and trying to make her more comfortable. Kyrie vomited until she dry heaved, then nearly collapsed in exhaustion. Breka helped her into the bath, cleansing the sweat and cooling her. Once dry and dressed in a light nightgown, she maneuvered Kyrie into the huge bed and called for a servant. Given that the feast was still in full swing, it was no surprise that it took nearly an hour to get someone's attention and even longer to get the items requested.

Breka had just gotten Kyrie to sleep when the door to the suite burst open and Arlexus appeared in full drunken fury. He threw his arm across Baelund's chest, roaring at him to get out of his way, he had no right to stop him from seeing his wife.

The upheaval jerked the queen out of the tentative relief of sleep into a sitting position, staring in horror at the maelstrom standing in her doorway. Breka immediately recoiled from him, cowering from the repeat of her earlier nightmare.

"How _dare_ you embarrass me in front of my new subjects?" he screamed, the words barely intelligible, influenced heavily by the wine fumes that surrounded him like a cloud. Clinging unsteadily to the door jamb, he failed to notice Kyrie's pallor, instead taking her weakness as fear. "My nobles thought it was hilarious that you crept out early with your manservant." His dark eyes focused on her as his rage found the target he sought. "You deny me what is my _right!_ You are _mine! My_ possession! I will take you, and _no one else!_ "

Kyrie answered the only way she could, to roll to the edge of the bed and vomit again into the chamber pot. The king's wrath was not allayed, but her actions did make him pause. That was not the right reaction. She was supposed to scream, to quail before him, beg for his mercy. Getting sick was not right.

Breka broke through her own fear to crawl to the queen's side and minister to her. Baelund stood at the ready behind Arlexus, waiting for him to make his move. The king might have caught him by surprise once, but the drunk was no match for him. However, he could not attack his king without provocation.

"What's going on here?" Arlexus shouted, but his words lacked the strength they had contained earlier.

"Queen Kyrie left the feast because she is ill," Breka said quietly. "As you can see, there is no feigning this. She is genuinely ill."

Kyrie raised her head to answer but the motion triggered more dry heaving. She was grateful that Breka had gathered her hair into a simple braid after her bath as it dangled along her face. Closing her eyes against the nausea, she simply clung to the bedclothes, as she had the strength to do nothing else.

Arlexus stood, his grasp on the door the only reason he remained upright. The massive amount of wine he had consumed was finally catching up with him, and he could not process the meaning of the scene he watched. He was supposed to have caught his wife in bed with her guard, but did he not knock the man out of the way earlier? Turning his head unsteadily, he verified that the man was standing behind him, fully dressed. But how could he be cheating with the queen if he was back there? Blinking against the vertigo and confusion, he returned his fading vision to his wife. He had seen her vomit. Faking that was nearly impossible, and the sounds that accompanied it set his own stomach to rebelling.

"Kyrie?" he asked, his voice sounding like an old man's as he tried to weave the pieces together.

"Baelund, call for his guard. They'll see him to his own bed to sleep this off."

"Yes, my lady."

"Arlexus, Kyrie is ill. She will see you later when she has stopped vomiting."

The words swirled around him, but the face he saw was not his wife's, although he remembered seeing it against a pillow underneath him. Why was she saying that he had to go to bed? He had not been put to bed since he was a child.

There was a lot of movement then, and he had the strangest sense of flying. His feet did not seem to touch the ground, and then there was something very soft under him. Relaxing into the cloud under him, he went to sleep.

### ~~~~

Breka had settled the queen back into bed and cleaned up the mess by the time Baelund returned from helping Arlexus's men carry the inebriated king back to his chambers. With the door securely bolted and Kyrie asleep, Breka collapsed into a chair in the reception area and waved toward another chair, granting permission for the guard to sit as well. Baelund perched on the edge vigilantly and watched the lady.

"I failed her," she said softly. "The first time Arlexus confronts her, and I wilt like a cut flower."

"He took us all by surprise."

"But once again, I relied on Kyrie to salvage the situation, although to be honest, I don't believe that this one was intentional." She sighed and sunk lower into the ornate chair. "When I saw his face, I was just... I couldn't..." Breka shook her head. "It was like it was that night all over again."

"You'll overcome it eventually," Baelund said. "Give it time. You haven't had much yet."

"And how can I protect her in the meantime?"

The man straightened. "That's my job."

### ~~~~

The next day had all the palace servants gossiping right and left. The new king had apparently had a row with one of his queens, and the stories ranged from her slapping him and throwing him out of her room to him taking her as he wanted and then drinking himself senseless in his guilt. The fact that neither the king nor his youngest wife left their chambers only heightened these stories.

The truth was much less fanciful as both the king and his queen spent the day trying to control ailing stomachs, but for far different reasons. Kyrie had drunk no more than two glasses of wine at the feast, so her illness was not self-inflicted. Once she had cleansed herself of whatever had upset her system, she began feeling better, although it was late afternoon before she could eat solid food.

The king, on the other hand, spent a similar amount of time cleansing his system of his self-imbibed poisons. He remembered nothing of the confrontation the night before, and when he called for Caenno, another man that he vaguely recognized came in and bowed deeply.

"At your service, Your Eminence," he said.

Arlexus narrowed bleary eyes at the man's insolent tone, but could identify no flaw in the words, so he ignored the insult, intended or not. "Where is Caenno?"

"The Ardeth Caenno has been banished from your sight."

"What? Why?"

The man bowed again, and this time Arlexus was certain the man was laughing at him. "Why, you yourself banished him from the court for, I believe your words were, dallying with your wife and turning her against you." The noble's expression never shifted at all, but his amusement was apparent. "His innocence in that accusation was roundly supported by nearly everyone at the table last night, but you refused to listen. This was just before you stormed off after your seventh queen left the feast."

Arlexus paled beyond the pallor of his hangover. If he had truly done that, he had let his drunkenness make a huge error. Banishing his most powerful noble, whether he liked the man or not, was an egregious mistake. Caenno could legitimately withdraw his support from the throne, and as all the Old Blood families followed him, he would be removed from the Onarian rule.

Even wracked by the remnants of his vomiting and the pounding headache, Arlexus could easily weigh the consequences. His most powerful supporters were merely political or supplying manpower, not the funds that he needed. Although he was now King of Andothorn, he had no political power here until he won over the important nobles. In retrospect, drinking to excess to celebrate his coronation so soon after his mother's death may not have been the best idea. His mother had been a beloved monarch, as he had heard from nearly everyone he had talked to since he had arrived. The people genuinely mourned her death.

Aware that the noble was waiting for a response, Arlexus hunched over the chamber pot to give himself more time to think. If he only had the Andothorian throne and wealth to rely on, he could eventually conquer Onarias by force and remove the Old Blood families, but that would set his plans back by years, perhaps even decades. Also, even though his mother had discussed the process of accessing the Jopha wealth, it had been years and all he recalled was that the bulk of Andothorn's considerable wealth lay in the Jopha's control, with the rest being split more or less evenly between the Divarya and the Bhaniya. So while the King of Andothorn could lay claim to the wealthiest stores in Nionosea, he could not actually access them without getting the support and approval of the families controlling that largesse.

Sighing, he looked back up at the noble who stood, smugly watching him. He did not know if dismissing the man would play in his favor later or not, so he allowed him to stay and give a report of what had happened the night before. The feast had gone smoothly until Caenno had made the cautious suggestion that perhaps it was time to wind the festivities down, as the next day was needed to plan the state funeral of his mother. Arlexus had apparently taken exception to that advice, valid though it was. An argumentative new king had begun insulting Caenno, throwing slurs at his family and implying that he had been inappropriate with Queen Kyrie. Caenno, for his part, took it calmly and quietly defended himself, but Arlexus would hear none of it. He banished the man, telling him that he would sail back to Onarias on the first ship available. The noble took the banishment in stride, bowing and showing the proper deference to a sot of a king. It was only after Caenno left that someone had pointed out that Queen Kyrie had also left the banquet.

Here Arlexus's memories took over, as that part of the evening replayed in his head in mortifying detail. When his wine-fueled intellect pushed him to leap to a conclusion, Arlexus had left the hall in a fury. He stormed to her room, but instead of seeing Caenno in her bed, he substituted that infuriating insult of a guard. _He_ was allowed in the queen's room, but her own husband was not. The backwoods twit of a girl would suffer his righteous wrath when he took her after throwing out her lover. However, he had been stopped cold when he had not found anyone in his wife's bed and she was demonstrably ill.

"Please pardon the interruption," Arlexus said, his voice still rough from his morning purge. "I just realized that I cannot remember your name, and if you are being so kind as to assist me in my hour of need, I should be able to thank you by name."

The noble blinked in surprise at the sudden courtesy but bowed and provide the information. "I am Ramara Tagani of the Jopha. We shared a common grandsire three generations back."

"Thank you, then, Ramara. I have yet to fully recuperate from last night's overindulgence, so if you would be able to summon my healer, I would be in your debt."

Ramara bowed to the king, assured him that the request would be fulfilled, and dismissed himself from the room. Arlexus sighed heavily in relief. His charm still worked, although he would grow tired of using it, he was sure. Bolting his door to prevent any other surprising arrivals, he stepped into the bathing chamber long enough to pour a pitcher of tepid water over his head, snorting a loud breath to blow the rivulets from his face. Somewhat revived, he draped a towel over his head so as to not drip down his bare chest and strode to his desk. He penned what he hoped would be a sufficiently apologetic letter to Caenno. As much as he contemplated it, though, he could not think of a way to gainsay his drunken banishment proclamation. Caenno would understand the binding manner of Andothorian declarations, but the question Arlexus had was if his Riffin noble would forgive the insult.

Once he had finalized the draft and signed it with his Onarian seal, he turned his attention to how to repair the situation with his wife. He could only thank the Pantheon that the insult to Kyrie had been private. She would not want to draw any more attention to it than necessary, so a small token and charming apology should go far to remedy that faux pas. As he sorted through what kind of gift would be suitable, one possibility brought a smile to his face. If she accepted, it would give his man another opportunity to complete his mission. Arlexus relaxed back into his chair. Oh, he could be kind to his wife, especially when it would heighten the effect when he finally broke her.

### ~~~~

It was nearing the evening meal when Kyrie finally felt well enough to bathe and dress. She was not sure that she was quite ready to face the rich fare of a full dinner, but she was hungry, which both she and Breka took as a positive sign.

A quiet knock on the door startled all three, and to everyone's surprise, a quiet Arlexus stood outside.

"Come in," Kyrie invited when he made no move to enter on his own.

"Thank you." He stood and allowed Baelund to shut the door behind him.

The queen had never seen her husband like this. He was quiet, nearly meek, and was obviously waiting for her to break the silence. "Is there something wrong?"

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night," he started slowly. "I only remember bits of it, but I do recall bursting in here and shouting. I could blame it on the wine, but that's no excuse."

Breka and Kyrie exchanged astounded looks, but the queen turned back and accepted the apology gracefully.

"I know that giving you a gift just to try to make amends would not be appropriate, so instead, I'm granting you the use of the royal coach to take you anywhere in Crynmarth's markets that you wish to go. As soon as you have recovered, of course."

She opened her mouth and closed it twice before managing a quiet thanks. He took her hand and kissed the back, and then pressed her fingers to his forehead. Dropping her hand, he left her with a brief but charming smile before allowing Baelund to open the door for him again.

"What was that about?" Breka asked after he left. "He – he – Something is wrong."

Kyrie blinked and shrugged her shoulders. "Obviously. But what, I can't even begin to guess."

"Perhaps you should sing about it," Baelund suggested. When the women looked at him in surprise, he shrugged. "If you are one of the Anointed, then use it."

Breka shrugged and Kyrie laughed. "That's one way to look at it," she said. She began humming, letting words come. Quiet syllables tumbled from her lips, and as usual, Kyrie heard only the nonsense of her childhood. When her song ended, she looked expectantly at the others. Breka shrugged again, as unable to hear anything unusual as she had grown up hearing her friend's harmless habit. They both turned to Baelund, who looked as confused as they.

"I didn't recognize anything other than a couple words in one of the tribal dialects," he said with a shake of his head. "Nothing to make sense."

They all sighed in disappointment. "Well, should we take the king up on his generous offer?" Breka asked, looking particularly toward their guard.

He shook his head. "Not immediately. I need to ask a few questions first, and I'm sure that the queen will benefit from another day or so of recuperation."

Kyrie blushed a little, bringing color to her face for the first time since the night before. "I suppose that's a good idea." Glancing at her lady, the queen asked, "Do you suppose I ought to make an appearance for dinner, or should we just ask for a meal to be sent here?"

"As much as I'd like to stay out of sight, we should probably make an appearance. However, let me send word to the kitchens so that we can get you something very mild and not too rich. I don't want to undo you feeling better, but you do need some solid food." With that, Breka left to summon a servant to deliver her instructions.

#### Chapter Fifteen

Due to Arlexus's indiscretion at the coronation feast, he wisely postponed the funeral for a day, allowing for all respectful preparations to be made for the funeral. The queen's body had been cremated privately because of the sickness, since Crynmarth had already suffered too many epidemics. However, to honor their revered Queen Dimitriadi, an effigy had been constructed and laid on the pyre for the ceremonial cremation.

The classes paid their respects in order. The Jopha were led by the late queen's closest relatives, Arlexus taking the lead with his wives and sons, followed by her extended family, then all the other family groups within the Jopha. Any visiting nobility formed a small group that closed out the first tier of mourners. The Divarya followed by class rank, with the highest ranking nobles and their families down to the most minor nobles. The Bhaniya class proceeded by merchant clan, and here, wealth proclaimed standing, with the richest leading the way. Finally, the Kumasa, or commoners, lined up and walked by. Their wailings rang out the loudest, for Dimitriadi was a queen that had aided the Kumasa more than any monarch in recent history.

The procession took all day, and no one ate during the session. Once the last straggler had paid his respects, Arlexus stood and signaled for the horns to be blown. Four large brass horns, housed in towers on the corners of the city, blasted forth their mournful notes. A final, deafening wail rose from the grieving gathering, and once it faded away, the pyre was lit. As the flames leaped high and started to burn out, Arlexus gestured for the dismissal, and a single, hopeful horn peal lifted to the sky.

In spite of the foreignness of the whole ceremony, Kyrie experienced an uplifting with that final horn. She wiped tears from her eyes and straightened, ready to go back to the palace and enjoy the meal that was waiting.

With her belly full and her feet sore from standing, she led her friends back to her room. Once inside, she was startled to see a servant standing at attention in her sitting area. Recognizing him as one of Caenno's personal servants, she took the sealed packet he offered. With a smile and thanks, she dismissed the man and took it into her bed, where she curled up and broke the seal.

_Queen Kyrie._

I need you to read this and memorize the important parts, as this must be burned as soon as you have read it. I am sure you have heard the gossip by now that I have been banished back to Onarias. I truly believe that it was the wine driving those words, but as he proclaimed it in public, it is law. He cannot retract it.

It is a blessing from the Ancient, as in his drunkenness, he has given me an opportunity to try to temper his ambitions. I will be sailing home as soon as my ship gathers provision and cargo, which will hopefully be within the week. I hate to leave you without support in a strange court, but I have no choice.

There are many things happening behind the scenes, and I have uncovered a few of them in my time here. I will leave agents and allies to keep investigating, but they will not be able to interact with you without drawing suspicions. Therefore, I have faith that you will be able to handle yourself in the court.

If you have any questions, send a sealed message personally, and I will try to get you an answer before I leave.

Take care, and I will see you when you come back home.  
Ardeth Caenno Riffin

She read it several times, committing it to memory. Breka and Baelund had given her space, but she could not risk sharing this information with them. The fewer that knew, at this point, the better. She appreciated Caenno's efforts to protect her as well, but his words only concerned her that this conspiracy was growing far faster than either of them could contain.

After she burned the papers, crumbling the ash to bits into the fireplace, she turned to the others. "So, what shall we do tomorrow?"

Breka grinned. "I say we go shopping, if Baelund agrees."

"I have made the necessary preparations," he said, and Kyrie stared a little closer as she noticed the slight hesitation before he spoke.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. A silent nod answered her question, but her concerns were not allayed. She vowed to ask him privately, but Breka began bustling around, setting the room to rights before bed. Allowing herself to be swept along, she relaxed in a warm, scented bath and retired to bed early. Breka's excited chatter about really exploring all the different shops lulled her to sleep.

### ~~~~

The breaking dawn promised a repeat of the fair weather that had prevailed since they had arrived in Crynmarth. Kyrie stood at her open window, listening to the escalating noise in the city streets below the palace. The smell of fresh bread baking entwined with the briny breeze from the harbor that stirred the curtains and toyed with tendrils of her loose hair.

She missed her balcony onto the gardens, but this view over white houses, colorful awnings over merchants' shops, and the misty harbor provided a suitable replacement. Although if Arlexus chose Crynmarth over Caer Anthis as his seat of power, she might have to give up her beautiful balcony. The queen frowned. It would actually make more sense for her husband to leave some of his wives here, and some in Onarias, because it would make entertaining visiting diplomats easier. The thought that she might be able to be blessed with his absence for months at a time brought a smile to her face.

Glancing back over her shoulder to the bed, she smiled at Breka's sleeping conquest of Kyrie's empty side as she sprawled across the sheets. Between her illness the night of the coronation and the grieving of the court over Dee's death, Arlexus had been effectively kept away. However, as the palace adjusted to the new king and all the changes, she would not be able to keep Arlexus from his rightful place. Until she conceived, she was duty-bound to accept him when he came to her. Wrinkling her nose, she sighed. That could be dealt with when it came to pass, worrying about it only robbed the pleasure from the present.

A loud sigh that devolved into a snore startled her out of her gloomy thoughts and she giggled. That in turn woke Breka, who blinked into the morning light.

"You're up?"

"Apparently," Kyrie answered, smiling and pointing toward her side of the bed. "It's a good thing, too. I would have ended up on the floor, otherwise."

Breka frowned in confusion before looking at how she was laying. "Oops," she said, smiling sleepily and rolling back onto her side. "So, why are you up this early?"

"Couldn't sleep. Besides, I don't think I've ever really watched a city wake up before," the queen said as she perched on her side of the bed. "I miss my balcony and gardens, but Crynmarth can put on a show, too." She looked over at her friend, who still looked to be on the shady side of asleep. "So, breakfast? I'm starving."

"That's odd," Breka said with a suspicious stare.

"Not really. I could smell the baking bread this morning, and it smelled so good."

Sitting up, Breka rubbed her eyes and blinked away the bleariness. "You just seem to have become a breakfast eater recently. You've never been one for eating much in the morning."

"My life has changed in a lot of ways. Of course my eating habits are going to be one of them."

With a snort, her lady shrugged. "I can't argue that one. All right, I'll go get some food once I get dressed. Any requests?"

"Yes. I want some fresh bread with whatever else you choose." Kyrie grinned. "And plenty of butter."

"As you wish, my lady," Breka said with a bow that nearly rolled her out of bed.

The queen laughed and stepped into the wardrobe to choose something appropriate to wear out to the market. She did not want to flaunt her wealth, as she had had enough dealings with merchants to know that their prices inflated for the higher statuses, but she would also be traveling in the royal coach, which meant there would be no getting around the status bit. As she stood there, touching different gowns, she realized that it was not her money she was spending. Arlexus was the one who sent her to the market; she could spend what she wanted with no guilt.

By the time Breka returned with a tray, Kyrie had chosen a local fashion, one of the wrapped dresses that bared her arms. One of the servants called it a _shuri_ and helped to don it appropriately. A quick turn in front of the mirror reflected a casual, but classy look for the day's shopping. The gold underskirt fell to mid-calf and was complemented by the pink wrap top. After learning which merchants carried the gold bracelets that wrapped about the upper arms, Kyrie ate quickly so they could leave for their day's adventure.

Since the city had been released from the official mourning period, the markets were riotous compared to their last trip shopping. Shouts from competing vendors warred with each other as they sought to tempt the two women to view their wares. The queen and her lady happily obliged them, giggling their way from shop to shop. Small purchases were made, although Kyrie did find a pair of boots that absolutely fascinated her. They resembled ones her father had commissioned for her several years earlier when they had taken a family trip out into the wilds of Mithlaris. Although Breka reminded her that she lived in palaces now and had no use for such heavy trappings, Kyrie blithely ignored her and had her feet measured for a pair. The cobbler insisted that they would be delivered to the palace within two days.

Most of the parcels were instructed to be delivered later that day, but there were a few items that they carried with them, or in the case of the jewelry, wore out of the shop. Kyrie chose a spiral wrap for her upper arm that bore a trio of leaves that reminded her of the moor-oak shrubs back home. Breka chose several silver bangles that clinked together musically as she moved her arms.

They did not really stop for lunch, instead buying small servings from many different vendors. Nibbling their way through the afternoon, they concluded their shopping trip with a look at the cloth merchants. Several purchases of silks and gauzes in different colors were chosen, as Breka reminded her that the queen would now be entertaining diplomats in two different kingdoms. There were trimmings and the like chosen, as well as a few complete dresses for her more casual wear in her chambers.

When they saw the bolts of the woven wool brought in from Mithlaris, Kyrie's eyes stung with tears. "Oh, Breka, look at these. I swear, I can almost identify the weavers individually," she said as she ran her hands over the different patterns and weights.

"I think you can. That one looks like Lidua's work," her friend agreed.

"Oh, and I know this one. This can't be anyone other than Maera. See the purple color in there? She's the only one I know of who can make that dye." The queen sighed at the bittersweet reminders of home. Quickly she made a decision and signaled for assistance from the merchant.

"Kyri, what are you doing? We don't need woolens anymore."

"And do you think that Arlexus will never take me traveling? I know that Linevriand's major cities are nearly as cold as the Citadel itself." She smiled and indicated several different bolts that she wanted lengths from and made arrangements to have them delivered. After the merchant took care of her choices, she escorted Breka outside to finish their conversation. "Besides, we've only been here for a few months. It's not like we know how cold it really gets in the winter."

"True," Breka acknowledged as Baelund handed them into the carriage. "I still think that you wasted money on something just to remind you of home."

"Yes, but I wasted _his_ money. I have no problem with that." She laughed and Breka joined her.

They had just enough time to relax back against the plush seats before a sudden jolt startled all three of them. When one of the horses screamed, Kyrie stiffened and reached her hand around to her back. There, in the long wraps of her dress, she had tucked a bronze dagger. Since Breka's attack, she had made certain to carry some sort of weapon with her anytime she left her rooms. Keeping the knife out of sight, she waited as the carriage lumbered on for a while before being jerked to a stop.

The door of the coach was ripped open, and four men stood outside, bare blades gleaming in the sun. Baelund stood in the door, physically barring them brigands from accessing the women. And brigands they were, for they wore wraps around their heads like locals, but part of the wraps dropped below and shielded their lower faces.

Baelund was torn from his post and two men attacked. One sword against two seemed unfair until the Onarian guard gutted one man quickly and faced off against the other. The other two men climbed into the coach and faced the women.

When the highwaymen did not immediately demand their valuables, Kyrie knew that there was more to this than mere robbery. The lascivious leer that the one facing her wore as he looked over her body fueled fear and fury through her veins, and she sneered at him.

"I like me some fight in a woman," he growled before squealing in shock and pain. Her blade slid in between his ribs, too low to be mortal, but serious nonetheless. He backhanded the queen, throwing her back against the seat and knocking her head against the seat frame. Even though it was upholstered, the blow still stunned her.

She retained enough sense to retain her grasp on the blade, and his thrust had caused her to jerk the dagger sideways, ripping open a long section of flesh as she withdrew. When he screamed again, she thrust upwards, this time catching him along the cheekbone and slicing directly into his eye.

Infuriated, the man dug his own sword deep into her side, drawing a shriek from Kyrie as she fought to stay conscious. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and her vision started turning gray around the edges. Some man shouted something about her, but the words made no sense as she tried to process what was happening. The man she had wounded vanished from her sight, and another man bent over her. His words were curses, the kind she had heard the sailors using when they did not know she was close enough to hear. The carriage rocked dangerously as another man fought to get inside.

There was another scream, several, in fact, but she knew this one. As she stared across the coach, she saw light glinting on silver circles as they slid off of Breka's arm in a waterfall of metal. The delicate chimes of them hitting each other as they piled up on the floor of the coach was her last conscious thought.

### ~~~~

The man stared at the carnage that had been wrought. He had trusted these men, and they had rewarded him with a death sentence. The queen was not supposed to be touched, and yet she lay before him, bleeding around the sword that still protruded from her side. The woman on the other side, the target, lay in a pool of her own blood, along with their guard outside.

The king would kill him. Consigning himself to that fate, he stepped back outside to face the other two survivors of his force. He had only shown four to start with, but kept another four hidden if they needed backup. The guard had not only killed the two that had attacked him, but had taken out three more of the reserves and wounded the fourth before succumbing.

Facing the wounded and disfigured man who had caused the trouble, he drew his sword and finished the job that the queen had begun. Dead men would tell a bit of this tale, but they would not tell of his involvement.

A low moan from the carriage drew his attention away from his man. He glanced inside and saw the queen move slightly and moan again.

"You can thank the strength of the queen for sparing your life," he said, his words barely audible. "Get the coach turned around and send it driverless toward the palace. If she survives, you get to live."

The man limped to the horses, struggling with them as they fought the yoke. The scent of blood was heavy, making the horses skittish, and the man received a heavy kick on his wounded leg, which made his task all the more difficult. Finally getting the coach pointed in the right direction, he slapped one of the lead beasts on the hindquarters, giving him the impetus to lead the others past the carnage. As he watched the coach lurch unsteadily back out to the main thoroughfare, he felt the blade enter his back.

The king's man stood and watched his best agent fall. Bending over, he pulled his dagger out and wiped it clean before putting it away. He toed the body and sighed in disgust. What a waste, but there would be no chance of telling tales later.

He left the bodies lying in the alley and melted into the shadows. His path took him toward the palace where he faced his execution, but his steps slowed. There was another possibility. The queen had a chance of surviving, which meant that he did not automatically face death, although he doubted that the king would be at all lenient in the deviation from his instructions. However, there were ships leaving port at all times. He could leave, start over elsewhere.

The man froze at the rogue thoughts. Start over. Clean. He had been under Arlexus's thumb for so long the idea of a clean start was completely foreign. However, he had long since tired of the life he had lived. He had been disgusted by the order to kill the queen's woman on what seemed to be Arlexus's whim. This was a chance, a real chance to change.

With new purpose, the man climbed to the top of the nearest building. From the roof, he could see the harbor, ships with sailors swarming the decks like insects. He would leave, start a new life.

Climbing down, he tore off his blood-spattered outer garments to the light tunic and breeches that the Kumasa wore. He tucked away his purse with his precious gold and copper coins, leaving a worn pouch visible that only contained a few silver pieces. A stop at two different merchants' shops bought him the sturdy garments he needed.

Once he reached the docks, he gathered enough intelligence to pinpoint the ship that would suit his needs. It was a merchant ship out of Rhayady, the northernmost city in Linevriand. It was also one of the few ships that prowled the Chaos Coast and ventured into the Sea of Lost Souls.

It did not take much to get onto the ship without being noticed. He had spent most of his adult life being invisible. "Looking for any new hands?" he asked the officer standing on the deck.

"Course we are. Not many brave enough to face the rough northern seas," the first mate said before looking the man over. Common clothes, but did not quite have the look of one of the local Kumasa. "Sailed before?"

"As a passenger, yes. Never had the opportunity to work."

The officer finished his evaluation. Neutral accent – this man had traveled pretty extensively. Well-built, not too heavy, the kind of looks that meant he probably had to pay for female companionship. Calloused hands meant he had worked hard, but turned his hand to different tasks. Probably ex-soldier, maybe deserter. The mate shrugged. Would not be the first time they had taken on runners. "You realize you sign on here, you start at the bottom?"

"I figured as much."

"Pay is six silver a month, payable only when we make port. If you stay for the whole voyage and don't jump ship first time we dock, captain usually pays a bonus. Any questions?"

"Where do I bunk?"

"What's your name, sailor?"

"Faer. Faer Duatha."

#### Chapter Sixteen

Fire. She was on fire. This was worse, much worse than the time she had dropped her doll too close to the fireplace and burned her arm when she tried to get it out. This fire was inside her. Every inch of her burned.

She cried out, begging for relief from the heat. She felt someone moving her, but even the lightest touch only made it worse. Something cool was pressed against her side, and the fire flared even brighter, tearing another scream from her throat. Within a few moments, however, the flaming heat emanating from her core began to ease. This time, she could identify a hand, a blessedly cold hand, touching near the center of the agony.

The hand warmed as it began to draw the fiery heat from inside her. She gasped in relief, daring to try to open her eyes. A young man, not much older than her, bent over her. His eyes were closed and his lips moved, but she could not hear his words. She blinked and realized that her eyes had remained closed. Forcing them wide, she tried to focus.

She saw something draped over her bed, glowing a vivid orange, almost like she was inside a fire. Nothing looked familiar, and panic birthed within her. Moving caused the fire to return, so she held her breath to combat the pain. However, it was just pain, not the all-encompassing agony that she had endured earlier. Words became audible, although she found it vaguely amusing that she could finally hear something but not understand the words.

Another hand, this one cool as well, slid over her brow and closed her eyes again. Even though she wanted to stay awake, she did not have the strength to open them back up. She let the quiet chanting lull her back to sleep.

### ~~~~

Arlexus stood at the back of the room, watching as the Healer worked over his wife. Thank the Pantheon that he had still been in the city, as he had been called to minister to Queen Dimitriadi and her court and had not been called elsewhere yet. The young man – hard to believe he was old enough to be a healer, let alone the Healer – had worked tirelessly to save the queen.

Fury swept through him again, with nearly the same intensity that it had when servants had discovered the royal coach careening into the courtyard. He had gone out to see how rattled Kyrie had been, expecting a sobbing little girl to collapse out of the carriage. Instead, he had witnessed guards and healers carrying two bloody bodies toward the palace infirmary.

The lady had been examined and pronounced dead nearly immediately, her body wrapped and taken from the room to be dealt with by the healers, but the queen had been alive. Arlexus shuddered when he realized that there was still a sword piercing her body, and the grotesque job of removing it for treatment had been too much. He had to leave.

How could his man have failed this absolutely? How hard was it to kill one man and one woman and leave the queen untouched? And there was no sign of the man's body, so he had no way of knowing if that part of the assignment was complete. Although as long as the silent threat had been removed, Arlexus honestly did not care if the guard lived or died. Just so he never stood between the king and his queen ever again.

He had not failed to notice the darkening bruise down one side of her face, or the fact that her _shuri_ had been darkened with blood. His instructions had been simple. The king faced the issue of how to handle the fallout. Obviously, he would have to proclaim a manhunt for the villains, but given the carnage with the women, he had to wonder if his man had been killed in the attack. Sitting at his desk, he penned a quick summons and called a servant. "Give this to the Jopha Ramara immediately. Deliver it into his hands."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

The immediate response of the title he had heard his mother called brought a slight smile to his lips, although it quickly faded. Cleaning up this mess would be a challenge, although if he handled it right, it could be turned to his advantage as a seeker of justice. Having just lost a beloved queen, the near loss of another queen, albeit a consort, could play well into winning over the Kumasa. Quickly punishing the culprits who dared to strike at the royal house would satisfy the Jopha and the higher ranking Divarya, who would see that their new king would be willing to act on their behalf as well as his own. As long as his scapegoat was not a merchant, which would be a hard sell anyway, he should be able to keep the Bhaniya at least neutral through this debacle.

Arlexus decided that he would wait until this situation played out to decide whether or not to execute his man. He had failed the simple job he had been assigned, but he did accomplish the most of it. Of course, if he was dead, it would not matter. Another scapegoat could be found for the public punishment. Although, the king mused, it was odd for his man to have been silent this long. He normally sent some sort of contact, even if it was just a note saying he had failed. No word at all indicated he was dead.

The king's planning halted when the smug noble was announced. Grinding his teeth at his irritation with the man, he took advantage of it to launch his first salvo. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"At your service, Your Eminence."

The title sounded much less impressive when dripping with sarcasm, but Arlexus steeled himself to ignore it. This was his time to turn the tables on the arrogant fool. "Have you heard what has happened to my seventh queen?"

"Aside from the illness the night of the coronation feast?" he asked.

"Yes, aside from that." The king wondered how the noble could portray so much disapproval in so few words. "She and her lady were attacked in the royal carriage. The lady is dead. The queen is with the Healer right now, trying to repair the hole left from the sword that was still in her when the carriage arrived just a few minutes ago." Arlexus took morbid pleasure in watching the man pale dramatically.

"Attacked? Here, in Crynmarth?" Ramara asked, shaking his head in denial. "That's impossible. No one in this city would dare touch someone of the royal house, whether they agreed with the politics or not."

Arlexus wondered if the noble realized that he had just admitted disagreeing with the king having a polygamous union, but it was not an issue that needed to be dealt with at the moment. "Come with me."

Giving him no choice, the king led him to the infirmary, where Kyrie lay, as white as the sheets beneath her, the hole in her side covered in bloody compresses as they still sought to control the bleeding. The king's request to see the lady's body was politely denied, as she had not been prepared properly, so Arlexus headed for the carriage house, where they looked at the coach that was about to be cleansed of the blood staining the upholstery and floor. A shiny glint drew a frown, and he leaned forward to pick up a single silver bracelet that had not been disposed of yet. He touched the dried blood marring the gleaming surface. Rarely did he see such direct consequences of his machinations. There was a heaviness in his chest that made it difficult to draw a breath, and he did not like it.

Glancing at Ramara, he felt the pressure ease as the success of his gambit was painted on the man's face. Horror at the carnage had drained any remaining color from his face, and he stood, knotting his fine tunic in clenched fists.

"I need your assistance in finding those responsible and bringing them to justice," Arlexus said softly. "I don't know the city as well as you do."

"This will be taken care of," Ramara assured him. "I will send men out immediately."

"Thank you, Jopha Ramara."

### ~~~~

Ramara nearly ran from the king's presence. Storming into the palace, he ordered a contingent of guards to meet him out in the courtyard immediately. Once he had changed clothes into something more appropriate for the tasks he intended, he called a servant to lead him to the noble Caenno's rooms.

He knocked sharply at the door, and to his surprise, Caenno himself answered. "My Lord Caenno," Ramara said with a quick bow. "I have great need of your assistance."

The Onarian noble blinked in surprise. "Of course. Come in, please."

Ramara shifted uneasily. "For the sake of time, let us dispense with the formalities. One of the queens has been attacked, and I would ask your assistance as I investigate this matter."

"One of the... Which queen?" Caenno said, bracing for the answer.

"The seventh, Queen Kyrie."

"Is she... "

"She is not dead, although her lady is. They have her body sequestered for preparation. However, the queen was discovered with a sword in her side. The healers have her now."

"What of her guard?"

"Guard?" Ramara's eyes widened in shock. "No guard was mentioned. It was just the two women in the coach."

Caenno inhaled slowly and exhaled in a hiss. "Queen Kyrie has a guard who goes with her everywhere. She would not have gone to the market without him."

The Jopha straightened. "Could he have been part of this attack?"

"No," Caenno said with a shake of his head. "He was handpicked from my own men. I trust him with my life, so I trust him with the queen's." He called for a servant. "Allow me to change and I'll meet you."

"I have men waiting in the courtyard. I'll wait for you there."

Ten minutes later, the two nobles met again. Ramara turned to the Onarian and said, "I have gathered the servants who met the coach as it came into the courtyard. If you like, we can question them together. But I would like to send men out quickly to see if we can find where the attack occurred."

"Yes, that sounds fine. This is your city. I'll follow your lead."

Ramara acknowledged that with a nod and issued some quick orders to the men standing at attention. Within minutes, a dozen of them had peeled off and headed into the city. Caenno stood, watching the impressive discipline within what were apparently household troops. His own men were no better trained, and he was quite proud of them.

"Please join me, Lord Caenno," Ramara said as he walked toward the servants.

It took no genius to see that these men were terrified. Attacks simply did not happen in Crynmarth; being greeted by a dead woman and a dying woman had shaken them severely.

"As you all know, there has been a heinous act committed against one of the king's wives," he began. "Lord Caenno of Onarias has graciously agreed to assist me as I try to discover the culprits and bring them to justice. Have no fear, we will make sure that the true criminals are the ones punished. We don't seek to execute the first person who crosses us.

"That being said, we need to gather any bit of information you noticed. Anything at all, no matter how small."

There was some murmuring amongst the men. Vague details about the condition of the horses, of which direction they had come from, the horror at seeing what they thought were two dead women tumbled out in hard to follow reports, but as the servants talked, Caenno noticed one in the back who remained silent. As the others were discussing their observations with Ramara, Caenno quietly slipped to the back and gently herded the quiet one off to the side.

"What did you see?" he asked, keeping the authority out of his voice.

"Nothing. I didn't see anything," the young man said.

Caenno did not need to interrogate him. He could see that the boy was terrified of being found out. "Did you touch something? Did you take something?"

The quick flicker of the boy's gaze up to his and back down to the ground told the noble what he needed to know. "What did you take?"

The servant slowly reached down and pulled a cloth-wrapped item from his belt pouch. With trembling hands, he offered it to Caenno. "Please, please don't cut off my hands. I need this job here in the stable," he pleaded.

Taking the piece, Caenno could tell by the shape that it was a dagger. He made a quick decision. "What is your name?"

"Isim."

"Well, Isim, since I am not of this kingdom, I can't pass judgment on you. I will let you go this time and assume that you have learned your lesson. However," and he lifted the boy's face to make sure he made eye contact, "I will leave your name with that lord over there. If anything else goes missing in or around the stables, I assure you, he will come talk to you first. Do you understand?"

The frantic nodding told Caenno that he had accomplished what he set out to do. The boy would think twice about stealing again, and since it had been recovered, there was no reason to punish him unduly. With a nod of his own, Caenno released the boy to join the rest of the servants.

The two nobles climbed into the readied coach and headed out of the courtyard. Since it was only the two of them inside, Caenno opened the conversation. "I assume that there is some reason you have for asking me to help you when you have a city full of nobles to assist in this?"

"I could claim political goodwill, since King Arlexus is ruler of two kingdoms now, and partnering with his most powerful noble in Onarias could be seen as the most diplomatic way of handling this, but that's not it entirely." Ramara sighed heavily. "It has come to my attention that you have not been idle during your brief stay here."

Caenno stiffened, waiting for the recriminations to pour out. "So that's why you asked me along? To accuse me of something?"

"No, no, not at all. My pardon for implying that." The noble met Caenno's gaze for a moment before dropping it to his own clenched hands. "In fact, your investigations have mirrored our own. I have no reason to suspect you of plotting against Andothorn.

"In fact, we have asked about you, and the reports we get are that you are a man of sterling morals and great intelligence. That is why I asked you to assist."

Shifting uncomfortably at the unexpected praise, Caenno nodded hesitantly. "I suppose you would be pleased to hear that I've heard much the same about you."

"Queen Dimitriadi was a very wise woman who surrounded herself with people as much like herself as possible. That's why it was so suspicious when so many of her advisors died in that plague."

The Onarian grimaced and rubbed a hand over his face as his own suspicions were laid out so plainly. "I was afraid of that. I think the two of us need to have a long discussion about this, but not here and not now. Right now, I want to find out what happened to Kyrie."

Ramara cocked his head curiously. "Are you so familiar with all the king's wives?"

"No, not at all," Caenno said with a blush. "Only Zaela, who is a distant cousin. However, I meant no disrespect with Queen Kyrie. We have become friends, and she gave me permission to dispense with her title. I apologize if I construed any disrespect."

"I merely wondered if such a slip was indicative of other rumors, tales of you being much closer to the young queen than appropriate."

"Anyone who knows the queen also knows that she would never betray her husband like that. She takes her position seriously." Caenno smiled tightly. "Besides, I am quite happily married. I have no need to look for companionship elsewhere. My wife Salia is a lovely woman who has made a wonderful wife and mother for fifteen years. In fact, our oldest daughter is only five years younger than the queen."

The Jopha contemplated that answer. "I find it fascinating that your defense did not begin with your own declaration of innocence but that of the queen's."

"Kyrie's loyalty and integrity is above reproach, and she's demonstrated that to me repeatedly."

There was a lengthy hesitation before he spoke again. "I have not gotten to know the queen. I will remedy that situation, provided she survives."

That reminder fueled Caenno's wrath. He had no doubt who was behind the attack, but in spite of his tentative alliance with Ramara, he could not risk exposing all of Kyrie's secrets yet. "How bad is she?"

"They say the sword was still in her side when they carried her into the infirmary. All I can say is that she was still bleeding and unconscious in the brief moment I saw her."

The profane expletive that exploded from the Onarian's mouth startled Ramara. Caenno looked up at the shocked expression. "I'm sorry. I just... This situation is intolerable."

"I agree. Attacks like this are simply unheard of in Crynmarth."

Caenno let the misinterpretation stand. Remembering the item he had gotten from the stable boy, he pulled it out for further inspection.

"What is that?" Ramara asked curiously.

"I convinced a stable boy of his misdirection in taking it from the coach," Caenno said. "I believe the boy has learned his lesson, but I told him that if anything else went missing from the stable, I would tell you his name and he'd be the first one you questioned."

Ramara smiled, the first one to grace his face since learning of the attack. "A very wise man. What is his name?"

"Isim." Caenno dismissed the boy from his mind as he unwrapped the dagger.

It was a bronze piece, coated in dried blood, which made the rags stick to it. When it was finally revealed, Caenno inhaled. "This belongs to the queen."

"She carries a dagger? Why?"

The time had come for a bit of history to be shared. "The queen's lady, Breka, was beaten severely by her married lover several weeks ago. Since that attack, she has carried this dagger with her. I know this because she asked me to get it for her."

"This lady, this was the same one that died today?"

"I'm sure she is, since the queen only brought one lady with her."

Ramara frowned and stared at his counterpart. "I sense there is much more to this story than what you're telling me, but I understand the hesitation. Now is not the time."

The coach jerked to a halt and one of the Jopha's men opened the door. "We were summoned to an alley by screams of bodies. The men have removed the people and sequestered them. Others are guarding what appears to be a massacre."

"Take us there immediately."

No other words were exchanged between the grim men. The trip to the scene was relatively short, and once they arrived, massacre seemed to be the correct term.

There were men lying scattered about, insects buzzing about the bodies. There were swords in most of the hands. Caenno immediately turned to the commander of the group guarding the area. "Has anyone touched anything or moved anything?"

The man pointed to a group of women weeping. "They were the ones who discovered the bodies, and they said they hadn't touched anything."

Looking over at the huddled women, he shook his head. "If they touched anything, it was to look for coins. However, that's not to say that someone else hasn't been here." Even though the scene looked chaotic, Caenno knelt and examined carriage tracks through blood and the way the men lay.

Ramara squatted beside him. "What do you see?"

"I see battle and I see murder."

The Jopha gasped softly. "Are you touched by the gods to see such things?"

"No!" Caenno stared at him in surprise. "Why would you ask that?"

Waving a hand at the chaos, he said, "Then how can you see the difference? There are just bodies here."

"I've seen my share of fighting to know the difference. Experience, not magic." He pointed to the nearest crumpled body. "This man was slain in battle. The way he fell, the way his own blade is bloodied, the fact that the wounds are on his front rather than his back." Indicating another body, somewhat removed from the scene, he stepped over to investigate closer. "This man was wounded in battle, but was murdered after the fight was over. You can see how his leg bled profusely, meaning that he was still walking around after the battle stopped, but the wound to the back speaks of murder."

"Ah, I see." Staring at the clues that Caenno had pointed out, Ramara frowned. "What else do you see?"

Caenno looked closer. "I think he was killed after the coach left, which means that someone survived this and left."

"Why do you think that?"

He pointed at the pool of blood under the body. "If the coach had left after he'd died, this would be disturbed by either the horses' hooves or the wheels. The alley isn't wide enough for that large vehicle to have left without damaging the body. However, you can see that the wheels marked others," and he led the Jopha to another body, "and here this man was dead beforehand because the wheel left clear tracks through the blood."

"Amazing that you can notice that and know what it means," Ramara said.

Caenno stilled as his gaze was drawn to the only differently dressed form. "Oh, Baelund," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you know this man?"

"Yes. He trained with my men. I chose him to guard the queen." Caenno knelt and rolled him over, sickened by the loss.

Blood covered the front of his body, glistening in the evening sun. It was obvious that he had given his life for the queen, as the bulk of the corpses lay nearby. A swift assessment brought a sad smile of pride to his face. He had accounted for himself with five, maybe six kills before succumbing. Baelund's showing was impressive.

"My Lord Caenno, should he still be bleeding?" Ramara asked.

"What?" Leaning over, he examined the wound that Ramara indicated. There was still blood leaking, albeit very slowly. Caenno put his ear close to Baelund's mouth but could not hear anything. Instead he laid his ear on the bloody chest and was stunned to hear a very slow but rhythmical thumping. "Thank the Ancient, he's still alive!" Caenno breathed. "Bandages, quickly."

The healer in the guard immediately threw himself into trying to save the man. Relief warred with caution as he looked around. No one other than the Jopha and his men were in sight, although he could hear the babble of the crowd beyond the carriage.

"Can we keep his survival secret?" Caenno asked.

"You wish to set a trap for the one responsible?"

"That and give him at least a fighting chance to heal before he becomes a target. He is a witness. A valuable one."

"Agreed." Ramara looked around. "I think we can get him into the coach without being seen, but I'm not sure how to unload him at the palace."

"Excuse me, sir," the healer said, looking up from his bandaging duties. "All the bodies will need to be wrapped and taken to the infirmary for the healers to sign off on them anyway. Why not wrap him up as well until we can get him inside?"

"Excellent idea!" Ramara said. "Do you have an idea of what to do with him after that, since we won't be able to hide him in the infirmary for long?"

"Yes, I do. I am leaving once my ship loads its cargo. However, I may be able to convince the captain to slow the work long enough to get him safely ensconced on board."

"Yes, that is good. As long as he survives, that is." The Jopha stood and looked around the alley. "Is there anything else you can glean from here?"

One corpse had been rolled over and caught Caenno's eye. Walking over so he could examine it closer, he took in the shallow stab wound and the ruined eye before checking the disemboweling slice. Noting the lack of weapon in his hand, he chuckled wryly as he came to a startling conclusion.

"Something amuses you?"

Glancing at Ramara's confused expression, Caenno nodded. "You could say that. I believe I've discovered who wounded our queen."

"And you find that funny?"

"No, not that." He pointed to the wounds. "These weren't made by a sword. They were made by a dagger."

Comprehension dawned quickly. "The queen did this? She killed a man?"

"No, I doubt he died from the wounds, but she did defend herself. I would say he ran into someone else who finished the job. Her dagger couldn't do the kind of damage that last one inflicted. That was a sword stroke."

"That supports your supposition that someone else walked away from here."

Caenno nodded. "I don't think there's any more to learn here. Let's get the bodies back to the palace and we'll go from there."

Once Baelund was wrapped and put into the coach, the two nobles joined the healer for the ride back to the palace. They had to wait for the other bodies to arrive in the courtyard. A merchant cart had been hired to bring them, and there was controlled pandemonium as the corpses began arriving. When he received the healer's assurance that Baelund still lived, he was moved inside with the others.

As the courtyard cleared, Ramara turned to Caenno. "I need to make my report to the king."

Caenno nodded. "I would like to check on the queen. Shall we meet after that?"

"Of course. I believe we have a lot to discuss." The Jopha looked up into the darkening sky at the rising moon. "I think this will be a very long night."

"I think you're right."

#### Chapter Seventeen

Caenno followed the parade into the infirmary. It was dark, and the lamps were just being lit to help the healers work. He was cautioned to not interfere at all, but after his inquiries, he was led to Kyrie's room. There were several beds here, but there was only one occupied. He pushed back the heavy gauze that obscured the young woman within.

"Kyrie?" he asked quietly. Seeing the young man working over her, he asked, "How is she?"

"Her wound is inflamed. She is fevered. We need to get her fever down before we can do much else to repair the damage."

Taking a seat, Caenno reached over and took her right hand, flinching at the heat radiating from the limp appendage. "Come on, my lady, fight. Fight like you did in the coach."

The noble watched the healer work. He had watched them before, when his children had been ill or hurt, but never with an injury so serious. However, he had never seen a healer do what he watched this young man perform over the queen.

After the hours of working with her and settling her into a more recuperative rest, the healer finally retired from the room, and Caenno followed him. "I've never seen anyone do that before," he said.

The healer poured a tall glass of juice and drained it before collapsing into the nearest chair and looking up at him. "Then you've never seen the Healer at work?"

"The Healer? I didn't realize..." Caenno smiled in relief. "I hadn't heard where the Healer was recently."

The Healer poured another glass of juice and sipped this one. "I was called in to help with the plague that took the queen and her court. I just happened to be waiting on a ship to take me to my next calling."

"Well, my thanks for helping this queen." An exhausted nod was his answer. "I beg your pardon, but I don't know your name."

"Vari," the young man replied. "I took over for Healer Licia last winter after she died in her sleep last winter."

"Well, again, my thanks, Healer Vari." Caenno wondered if he should mention Kyrie's secret but another healer came over and requested Vari's assistance. Stretching, the noble realized that Ramara would probably be done with his briefing, since Arlexus did not tend to linger. He trudged back to his chambers, pausing only long enough to have a servant send some food to his rooms. He took a few moments to clean up, having just noticed the blood dried onto the side of his face where he had laid his ear on Baelund's chest.

He welcomed the servant with the food, not even caring that it was only cold sliced meat, fruit, and rolls. The tray was empty when a knock sounded at his door. The noble was not surprised to find Jopha Ramara outside, but when he waved the noble in, Ramara shook his head and silently motioned for him to follow.

They traveled back to the stables, where two horses were saddled. Ramara frowned as he took the reins of his horse. "I apologize, but do you ride? I neglected to ask."

Caenno answered by swinging up into the saddle with ease. "Lead on."

The Jopha led the way out of what appeared to be a back gate. The narrow road was dark, but it was late enough to have three moons shining. Although none of them were full, their combined light was still enough to see clearly.

Idle chatter about the fields and each other's harvests took their minds off the fact that their worlds were in an uproar. Sighing, Caenno was about to ask how much further when Ramara reigned in beside a small hut.

"This is the most secure place I could think of to discuss what we need to," Ramara said. He tied his horse and knocked on the door. Caenno frowned, since he thought it would only be the two of them, but he was truly surprised when he saw the Healer Vari open it.

"Let's begin."

The three men took a seat around the small table. There was a small tray of snacks and a jug of wine, but as he had just eaten, Caenno waved off the food and only took a cup of water. The Healer and the Jopha both ate and took the wine.

"To begin with, I think it safe to swear to each other that all said here will remain in the strictest confidence and will only be acted upon if it is a dire emergency," Ramara said. "I know that my position as one of the ranking Jopha is not particularly secure, since I am Arlexus's heir."

Vari frowned. "I thought that succession would fall through Arlexus's sons."

Ramara shook his head. "That's not how the Jopha Dynasty works. If one of Arlexus's wives were Andothorian, and of the Jopha, then yes, that son would inherit. I know that one of his wives is Andothorian, but she is Divaryan. There is no inheritance through her."

"I never realized that you were next in line," Caenno said, shaking his head.

"I don't overtly remind people, although most of Crynmarth is familiar enough with my position." Ramara sighed heavily. "Let's proceed with this. Dithering over my inheritance won't get us anywhere."

Vari cleared his throat. "As these are my only points of contribution to this meeting, I will begin. The queen is now stable and we've gotten her fever down to a safe point. I would guess that the blade had been befouled, which would explain the violent reaction.

"The survivor, the guard. He still lives, but I have no idea how long that will last. I honestly don't know how he survived as long as he has. Hopefully, he will be strong enough to risk moving him somewhere safer within a day or so.

"The third point is the most delicate." He took a deep drink of his wine, as if bracing himself to be able to say the rest. "Concerning the matter of Queen Dimitriadi's death, and the death of six other nobles. I have studied the symptoms, and having treated several of them, I can reach no other conclusion other than that the queen was deliberately infected with this affliction, as was Jopha Kartadhi, Jopha Itaran, and Jopha Dhira. I believe that all other deaths from this plague were incidental to the spreading of the symptoms to imitate a plague."

"How did you come to this conclusion?" Caenno asked.

"The strength of the symptoms, for one. The queen and the three nobles were the first ones to be afflicted. The one spreading it was a servant whose primary duty was to serve the main table. The only real outside contact she'd had was a merchant who had shared his produce with her and sold her a crate for the queen. Also, part of my calling as the primary Anointed Healer is to be able to relieve symptoms of illness. These symptoms mimicked a genuine ailment, but I couldn't ease them. Therefore, my thought is that it was poison."

"I can only thank the Pantheon that I was called out of the city for that week," Ramara said. "I would have been a target, too, had I been here."

"I agree," but Caenno cast an odd glance at the Jopha.

With a sigh, Vari drained his wine and held his cup to Ramara for a refill. "I will listen to you gentlemen and do what I can, because I don't fall under Arlexus's jurisdiction."

"Yet."

Ramara and the Healer frowned at the Onarian for that ominous qualifier. The Jopha sighed and began his report. "When Arlexus came to his mother looking for an Andothorian bride for his fifth wife, Dimitriadi met with me to ask my opinion. She had come to the conclusion that her son was marrying for political ambitions, not diplomacy. She also regretted that she might have placed the idea in his head, given her input on marrying his first wife to secure his throne."

"Zaela _was_ a political wife, but as he was so young, the marriage was supposed to strengthen the ties between Arlexus and the Onarian throne, not cast his ambitions elsewhere," Caenno clarified.

"Then Dimitriadi may have taken more guilt on herself than necessary," Ramara said, nodding in thanks for the insight. "However, she saw that if he took the woman he wanted, my cousin, then he would have the proper foothold to secure his hold on the Jopha Dynasty as well as the Onarian throne. So, with my help, we carefully navigated him toward another girl from a highly-placed Divarya family. Unfortunately, I cannot recall her name."

"Minya."

"Yes, thank you. So once the wedding was celebrated and consummated, we breathed a sigh of relief that he would not be able to control the Jopha bloodline. However, one of our diplomats told us that after spending time in Arlexus's court, he had gotten the impression that our ploy had been discovered, most likely from the wife herself."

Caenno snorted out a chuckle before apologizing. "I beg your pardon, but that does explain a lot. I wasn't in court at the time, I had already left to oversee my own home. Several weeks after the wedding, it was rumored that he was in a fury and had refused to touch his new wife again, let alone get a son on her. Too bad for him that she'd already conceived. Bore him a son, too."

Ramara smiled. "I suppose we should give thanks for small victories. Anyway, since we have not made it secret that Andothorian society does not encourage multiple wives, we were able to politely deflect any additional requests for another wife of Jopha blood. Our excuse was that while the Onarians might not mind multiple wives, no Andothorian woman, particularly of noble blood, would tolerate sharing a husband with another Andothorian wife. I take it that Arlexus has continued his political reachings?"

With a nod, Caenno said, "Yes. He has strong ties to Onarias through Zaela, although she has done what she can to make sure that Arthrax will not inherit. That's one reason that she supported Arlexus to go find his seventh wife."

"Yes, I'd meant to ask. No other ruler in Nionosea has ever taken as many wives, not even the heathen clans in The Barrens. At most they take two or three. Why so many?" Vari asked.

"Arlexus's pet priests have prophesied that something to do with the four moons and the alignment of the sun and certain stars will produce an heir out of the seventh wife, who is the seventh daughter of a seventh son. The triad of sevens supposedly means something."

Ramara frowned. "Yes, the Pantheon, while only consisting of five members, venerates certain numbers, and seven is one of them, although six is considered the holiest number. Thus the months have six weeks of six days each, according to Athetas the White."

Caenno grimaced. "No offense, but I don't think our differing beliefs is the focus of discussion." He accepted the Jopha's rueful apology and continued. "Zaela was first, to strengthen the ties at home. Hirtha, second. She's from Erialar, in Evralond. She was thrilled when Arlexus took the city, although she's not bright enough to see the dangers of that acquisition. Lynnia is the third wife, and she's a chieftain's daughter from the tribe that Arlexus ran out of the Rune Forest.

"Most people either don't realize or don't care that Arlexus has already accomplished his ambitions with his first three wives. So, after taking the Rune Forest, he aimed bigger. He took Jolana from Linevriand."

"You can't mean that he aims for Linevriand, too?" Ramara gasped.

"He aims to rule the whole of Nionosea, and his wives are just the start. Jolana was obviously a reach, but it does show where his ambitions are going. Next, he took Minya, and we've already discussed her. Then he married Wynna from Alar."

"By the Ancient, he's done it," Vari breathed.

Nodding, Caenno refilled his cup. "I think he's had his eye on Kyrie for almost ten years. He started searching for something right after taking the Rune Forest. I know he's been negotiating with Edol in Mithlaris for their copper for several years. I wasn't let in on it all until about two years ago, when Kyrie's name started coming up. She is the seventh daughter of a seventh son. I think Arlexus timed it so that she would also be the seventh wife."

Ramara groaned. "I thought his designs on the Andothorian throne were expansive." He drank his remaining wine in a large gulp and refilled his cup again. "Caenno, I think maybe you had best take over. I'll fill in anything else when you're done."

"I have worked with Arlexus since I became Ardeth at twenty. He was twelve that year, and as the leader of the Old Blood, I assumed my father's role as advisor and confidante. I used the lessons my father had taught me to try to shape Arlexus into a worthy king during the next three years.

"However, he had been raised by the Pantheon priests, the ones that his father Arba had embraced. The priests had already educated him, and even at age twelve, he was a selfish, grasping brat. I worked hard and thought I'd accomplished a lot by the time he was crowned at age fifteen.

"Queen Dimitriadi had his well-being in mind when she pushed for Zaela to wed him. She is actually older than me by a couple years, although she was still young and quite beautiful when they wed." Caenno shook his head at the memories. "We'd all hoped at the time that an older woman would be a steadying influence to the boy, and for a while, she was. However, once he reached adulthood and he discovered that he was king and didn't have to answer to anyone anymore, he worked on developing his charm and began taking lovers of all sorts, noble or not.

"There were several incidents in those early years, where by-blows were conceived. Arlexus had them eliminated, one way or another."

"How?"

"If the priests could use their herbs or whatever they did to make the child abort, they did, and the girl was paid off to go away. One daughter of a minor noble tried to make a fuss about it and ended up being exiled into The Barrens. However, there were a few cases where the girl in question just... vanished."

"And his wife didn't have anything to say?" Ramara asked in astonishment.

"Wives, by that point. And no. They knew that their only power lay in their sons, and Arlexus could keep them under his thumb by withholding his presence from them."

"How many sons does he have at this point?" Vari asked.

"He has one son by every wife. In that, he has done his duty, although having a son by each one only aids him by strengthening his claim on wherever they came from. So on to Kyrie."

Ramara held up his hand to interrupt. "I'm sorry, but what is it exactly that Arlexus seeks to accomplish? Does he really think he can rule the whole civilized world?"

"I'll get to that in a moment," Caenno assured him. "So, he finds the girl who fulfills all the omens. He marries her, consummates the marriage, but she alone does not conceive immediately. So he enlists a spy to make sure she's not cheating on him, so he can be certain that any child she conceives is undoubtedly his."

"Who could he get to spy on her that would be close enough to matter? A servant?" Vari asked.

"Her own lady-in-waiting, her best friend from childhood." Caenno grimaced at the outraged outbursts from the two men. "The same woman you pronounced dead earlier."

Vari blanched. "That young woman was her lady-in-waiting?"

"Yes."

Ramara's face grew dark as he contemplated that. "So, when you said earlier that the lady's married lover beat her..."

"Yes, that was Arlexus, which Kyrie had confirmed by his own words when she went to see him. He didn't realize she was standing outside the door when he made his grand confession. Kyrie disclosed these details in a series of meetings we shared after Breka's attack."

Between emptying his cup of water and choosing the wine and nibbling from the leftovers on the table, Caenno explained how Arlexus's perfidy had come to his attention and how the young queen had outmaneuvered him in court. The laughter at the king's expense would have been enough to ensure their deaths had anyone been near to listen. Once the hilarity had wound down and Caenno's story had been fully revealed, silence reigned.

Clearing his throat again to break the silence, Vari spoke up softly. "So, her son will be the culmination of his ambitions, if the prophecies are true, but I don't quite follow how this is tied to the attack on the queen. Surely if she is this important and has not yet conceived his precious son, then he would do everything in his power to safeguard her."

"There is one more fact that I've kept hidden, which should support your argument, Vari. I have no proof of anything, but I think that Arlexus ordered the attack on them. But I believe it went awry."

"Why would he possibly risk that?" Ramara asked. "That makes no sense."

"Remember the dead man that I identified as the queen's attacker?" When the Jopha nodded, Caenno continued. "He's my evidence for that theory, although it is nebulous indeed. I think that the point of the attack was to kill Breka, and possibly Baelund, in a way that would strike at Kyrie the most, rip away her closest friends. I don't think she was to be touched during the attack, but when she attacked, she enraged him until he struck out at her."

"But I still can't comprehend why he would even risk it," Vari said, shaking his head. "It makes no sense."

"It makes no sense to us," Caenno corrected. "Arlexus has never grown up. Not truly. He is still very much the petulant child longing for everyone else's playthings. He doesn't see people as equals; he is king, therefore everyone else is subject to him and should bend to his will immediately. The fact that Kyrie, despite her very shy exterior, has an extremely sharp intellect and strong will both thrills him and angers him. He loves the chase and the challenge of the hunt but despises losing. She stood up to him, to his face, and put him in a position where he had to acquiesce to her requests. He lost. He lost her respect, and he lost face in front of his most trusted advisors. That makes him a very dangerous man. An infuriated man. And combining those two situations makes for a very reckless man."

"This is what we've set on our throne?" Ramara asked in disbelief. "This raving man-child? I should have taken the throne when I had the chance."

"What?" Caenno stared at him, slopping the wine over the lip of the cup as he slammed it on the table. "You had a chance to avert this and you didn't take it?"

"I hadn't seen Arlexus in several years. It was my queen's wish that he take over for her, although I'm certain that had she known it would cause her untimely death, she would have named me successor instead of him." He continued more softly. "We assumed, wrongfully it turns out, that time and responsibility would mature him."

The Onarian heaved a sigh. "We've watched him and wondered if he would ever grow up. And the truth is, most of the time, we see the charming leader who seems to have everything under control. It's a mistake we're all guilty of, not just you. My apologies, Ramara."

"I'm sorry," Vari broke in, "but I'm still unclear on the attack. You mentioned another secret. What would that be?"

Caenno rubbed his hand across his eyes, trying to ease the growing ache behind them. "I have to have your absolute word that this will not go any further than this table. Not even a hint of this can be spread." Once he had received their assurances, he said, "Kyrie is the new Speaker."

Vari blanched in the dim lamplight, while Ramara looked slightly puzzled. "Speaker? Speaker of what?" he asked.

"I assume that you do not venerate the Ancient."

"That is correct. My family, extended family, works heavily with the priests at the Temple of the Moons."

"According to the Ancient, there are five Anointed that serve Him. They travel, lending their wisdom and guidance wherever they can. Vari here is one of the Anointed. He is the Healer, one who lays on hands to heal the flesh."

"I knew you were a healer, but didn't know there was a specific distinction," Ramara said.

"Actually, there are many healers at any time, but only one Anointed Healer. I was called after the last Anointed Healer died. We, as healers in general, don't typically differentiate between the Healer and other healers. I, personally, have felt the hand of the Ancient and that is why I can do more than just apply topical mending."

"Which explains why someone so young was called for such a personage as Queen Dimitriadi."

Vari smiled wryly. "Not quite. I do not weigh rank to determine who I serve. I was called to deal with a plague, which means that many would be affected. I go where I can ease the most suffering, not by how powerful is the person I'm healing."

"Ah. But what are these other Anointed people? And why does this have anything to do with that young queen?"

"The other Anointed are singular, being called when the previous one dies. There is a Speaker, a Seer, a Healer, a Listener, and a Teacher. The Healer heals the body, obviously. The Seer is a man named Neiren. He sees the future, but not as a fortune-teller sort of situation. I'm not too certain about how he sees it. I've only talked to him once."

"I've met him a few times, and the way he describes it, it's like a children's puzzle. He sees bits of a picture that can be assembled, and he provides guidance to help." Caenno shrugged in frustration. "I can't explain it any better than that."

"Anyway, the Listener hears the truth in all situations. As this is not always the easiest thing to handle, as most people don't speak the truth in all situations, the Listener tends to stay as inconspicuous as possible. The Speaker speaks only the truth, which is the same situation as the Listener. Rarely do people want to hear the absolute truth."

"So you can see why Kyrie being revealed as the Speaker would not be wise. She is not exactly able to drop out of sight if emotions were to turn against her," Caenno added. "Also, Kyrie's ability is not just as simple as speaking the truth. She only reveals the truth while she sings, and she can't understand what she says while singing because she speaks in other languages."

Both men stared at him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Vari asked.

"That makes no sense at all," Ramara added.

Caenno sighed. "She had this habit growing up where she would sing nonsense songs, just made up words to go with made up tunes. It was only as an adult that it was brought to her attention that this is something more. Her childhood nonsense, as she calls it, is actually singing in other languages. For me, I heard her using one of the tribal dialects from northern Evralond. I know it because they trade with Riffin Province regularly, and my father thought it wise to be well-educated in other trade tongues so as to not be at a disadvantage. Still, the likelihood of anyone knowing it outside of our small area is next to nil.

"And to prove that she is for real, she sang for me aboard ship. She spoke of Queen Dimitriadi's death, which was exactly the right day, and spoke of Arlexus's involvement in the planning of it, although he was obviously not physically involved."

Silence filled the hut. The implications of that ability being within Arlexus's grasp as he pushed his ambitions forward were sobering. "So, what can we do?" Vari asked. "It's not like I wield any kind of political power to stop this."

"I have one option, a very risky one and not at all guaranteed to succeed." Lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them, Caenno tried to summon the right words. "As the Ardeth of the Riffin family, I have the option of leading the major families of Onarias to remove Arlexus from the throne and replace him."

Ramara's eyes grew wide. "If it did work, that would be an interesting solution," he said. "It will take quite a while before Andothorn is ready to accept him as their king wholeheartedly. He won't be able to just access wealth at his demand. The merchants, in particular, are very stingy about how their hard-earned money is spent."

"That's an excellent idea. Why are you looking at this as a last resort?" Vari asked.

"Because it _is_ a last resort. This is not something to be dealt with lightly. The ramifications – "

"Ramifications? We have a king on the throne who has actively plotted to murder his own mother and lover. Who is responsible for the near death of his own wife. How can we be hindered by ramifications?"

Caenno met Ramara's outrage with calm silence. "Because to remove him from the throne will require someone to take his place. At present, that would be Arthrax, his oldest son. A son who is grossly unprepared to rule, as his mother has kept him sheltered from all political machinations to this point. Add to that the fact that even though he would no longer be ruling Onarias, should his son take the throne, Arlexus has every right to spend time in our court as a diplomat, visiting his son. Over whom he could, and probably would exert intense influence and power. So the _ramifications_ are extremely relevant."

"I see your point," Vari said, nodding his head in rueful agreement. "And besides, who's to say that Arlexus wouldn't come back with an army and just take the throne again, killing his son and a lot of innocent people in the process?"

"I would say," Ramara said firmly. "I will not support any sort of military action against another principality. It's unheard of for a member of the Jopha Dynasty to act in such an egregious manner!"

"He is _not_ of the Jopha!" Caenno shouted, losing his temper in his attempt to clarify the distinction. "His mother was, but Arlexus is Onarian. An Onarian who, like his father before him, is used to going to battle against minor tribal attacks, of defending his ever-shifting borders from nomads who have no concept of an arbitrary line saying they can't hunt here, or they can't live there. You were so impressed by my ability to read the truth in that violence, but you have no idea what kind of battle presence it took to gain that experience. I have watched men die at the end of my sword. I have watched valued friends bleed their life into the very soil that I call home. I may not consider myself a man of war, but I have seen _too much_ life cast aside carelessly for vain men's ambitions." He took a long breath, holding it until he felt he could let it out calmly. "I cannot, in good conscience, offer up Arlexus's son for a sacrifice unless I have no other choice."

"Well, we have a long term solution, possibly," Vari said, trying to break the long, tense silence gracefully. "What do we do in the meantime?"

"I try to get Baelund on the ship to take him home, if we can keep him alive. Then..." Caenno sighed. "I need to get back to Onarias and talk to the other nobles. I can do nothing by myself, no matter how strongly I feel."

Ramara nodded slowly. "For my part, I will do what I can to keep Arlexus from charming too many of the nobles. It will be difficult, because the strongest advisors are dead."

Vari broached the difficult subject. "And what do we do about the queen?"

"Protect her at all costs. She is the key in all this," Caenno said fervently. "Even Neiren has foreseen her role as key in how this future plays out."

"Should we confer with one another if something comes up that needs acted on immediately?" Vari asked.

Caenno glanced at Ramara and let him answer. "I think not. We should trust that between the three of us, we will only act for the benefit of the peoples of Onarias and Andothorn."

"Then let us leave as we came and whichever powers we look to, may they smile on us."

#### Chapter Eighteen

The next time she woke, she was relieved to hear music. Music made things better. Perhaps it was her mother singing to her. No, wait, her mother died. A long time ago, she thought. Who was singing, then?

She shifted and was quickly reminded not to do that. Pain radiated from her side, but a dull, achy pain, not the burning from before.

Burning. Her eyes flew open at the memory of being on fire. She gasped when she saw a young man leaning over her, bathing her face with a cool cloth. "Hush, now. You're going to be all right."

Kyrie tried to speak but her dry throat and mouth refused to allow even a squawk. Fortunately, her plight was rectified by the man carefully lifting her head and allowing the queen to sip from the small cup.

She had never before appreciated water that acutely. It was wet bliss, hydrating the path from her lips to her stomach. In fact, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the pleasant sensations that seemed so foreign after the torment she had endured earlier. Endured, or dreamed? No, it could not be a dream, because she still hurt.

"What happened?"

She blinked in surprise, expecting her words to be hoarse, but they were surprisingly fluid.

"There was an attack, my lady."

Attack? That would explain the pain. "Who attacked me?" she asked, searching the eyes of the man caring for her.

"You don't remember?" He frowned but after a moment's contemplation, his face cleared. "What is the last thing you do remember?"

She frowned. "I remember... burning. Felt like I was on fire. Before that..." Her words trailed off as she tried to recall. "I was standing outside. I saw a fire, like a bonfire. Did I fall in it?" she asked.

"No, my lady. What is your name?"

"Kyrie Adassa. Why wouldn't I know my own name?"

The man smiled. "Sometimes, that has happened. You are obviously not that bad a case. Your recent memory will probably return soon."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Healer Vari, at your service." He watched her closely as he spoke. "You've had several people worried about you. King Arlexus has asked to be informed as soon as you wake. Shall I send a messenger now?"

"He's my husband, is he not?"

"Yes. Shall I send for him?"

Unsure of why she felt uneasy about her husband, but willing to trust her misgivings, she shook her head. "I think I'm ready to go back to sleep right now." Her eyes fell closed but opened back up quickly. "Were you the one that took away the burning?"

"Yes, my lady."

"It hurt you to do it. Don't do it again. I'll be fine."

Vari stared at the young woman. She was already asleep, probably had been as she finished her statement. That was unusual enough, but what she had said – he had never told anyone about how using his full healing skills felt, how he shared the pain or the fever or illness or whatever the patients suffered. No one else should have known, but since the Ardeth had revealed her as the Speaker, the one who shares the truth, he should not have been surprised.

A quick touch to her face reassured him that her fever, while still present, was at a low enough level to not be detrimental to her healing. The touch also reassured him that she would sleep for several more hours. Hopefully she would have a better grasp on her memories when she woke.

He finished his ministrations to her and made sure there was someone by her bedside, an older woman who was a gifted healer, even if she was not the Anointed. He also trusted her to keep anything overheard to herself.

Once he knew that Kyrie was settled, he headed up to the king's chambers. He was not looking forward to this report, but it was necessary. He knocked at the doors and waited to be shown in.

"Ah, Healer Vari. What news have you about my queen?"

Vari performed a respectful obeisance. "I am pleased to say that she woke a few moments ago, but only for a bit. The fever has sapped her strength, and she needs rest to recuperate."

Arlexus steepled his fingers in front of him and leveled a contemplative stare at him. "And yet I sense that you're withholding some sort of bad news."

With a nod, Vari said, "As you say. Queen Kyrie does not remember anything about the attack. The last thing she could identify with any accuracy was Queen Dimitriadi's funeral."

The king's eyes grew wide. "No memory? How extraordinary."

"She remembers her name, and I would daresay everything up to the day of the attack itself, but I did not have time to examine her that thoroughly. She fell back to sleep too quickly." Vari met the stare evenly. "Forgetting a traumatic experience is not unheard of, although I have not encountered it before now. There are recorded cases that all healers are required to read, however."

"Please let me know when she wakes long enough for a visit," Arlexus said. "I'd like to speak with her and see if she can identify any of her attackers."

Vari frowned. "I'm not sure that pressing details of such a trauma so soon would be beneficial, Your Eminence. The queen's recuperation and wellbeing is the most important priority, is it not? That's why I'm here."

"Of course, of course. Please keep me informed."

Vari took the dismissal and left, his mind whirling. He tried not to let the overnight meeting sway his opinion of the king, although how he could listen to what the man had done and not be swayed baffled him. Even without the information from the Ardeth and the Jopha, he could not have missed the insincerity in the king's reassurances that the queen's wellbeing was the utmost concern.

The Healer let his feet carry him where they would as he let his thoughts go. The queen would survive the attack, her physical wounds would heal, although the scarring would be permanent. Battling the infection meant that any cosmetic healing, such as fine stitches, had been replaced with quick, coarse stitches to stem the bleeding.

It was what she had sung that had him confused. He recognized the words, hearing firsthand what the Ardeth meant. They were in a dialect that he had only encountered once when he lived with one of the nomadic tribes in The Barrens. His less than masterful grasp of the language meant that he had only understood a few of the words, but he did understand that she had been talking about a child, a child fighting for its life. As Healer, that disturbed him. He wanted to know where the child was and how to help.

His feet halted when he reached one of the huge windows in an upper level corridor. Staring out over the city, he wondered which child she was referencing. Was it here in the palace? Was it in the city? He frowned. It was even possible that she had been referring to the king's son discussed in the meeting, although he did not think she was using the right word for a near adult. He thought it was the nomad's term for suckling babe. There were no nursing infants in the palace, of that he was sure, and there were too many to track down in the city. If the need was crucial, someone would summon him.

Vari sighed and leaned against the window sash. He was tired, although not as exhausted as he could be and had been. He had last slept the morning before, and it was nearing noon. If he intended to sleep today, then he needed to finish his rounds. With some effort, he pushed off of the wall and headed back to the infirmary.

Checking on the queen took little time, as she had not moved in the hour he had been gone. There were only two more occupants to examine, and the first was to ascertain whether or not the guard could be moved to the ship. In spite of seeing the horrors that war could inflict, Vari was still surprised by what a person could survive. The blood loss should have killed this man before him, but by the Ancient's blessing, he still lived. He bore six distinct deep wounds, three deep slashes to his abdomen, a puncture into his left shoulder, a gash on his leg that nearly severed tendons, and another gash that laid open his left arm from elbow to wrist. He had apparently used that arm as a shield.

The Healer thought beyond the immediate damage and looked at a possible future. The wound on his leg might be enough to cripple him; at the very least, he would never walk the same again. Even though they had stitched the arm back together, there was no guarantee that he would have any function from it, either. The man would obviously have months of recuperating in front of him, and he would probably never be whole. What sort of work could he do, then? Was it a kindness to even try to heal him?

Open eyes surprised him as Vari looked into his face to examine the jagged cut. He had not expected the man to regain consciousness at all, to be honest. "Don't try to speak. You have stitches down your face that could tear, and I need those to heal." To prove his point, Vari traced the wound from the missing lower portion of his ear across his lower cheek and down off the jaw. "Half a finger-length higher and you'd have lost your eye."

When the man grabbed his arm with his unhindered right hand and pointed around the room, the Healer frowned. "Are you asking for something? Water?"

The man shook his head. The panic in his eyes clued Vari in to the information he sought. "The queen lives."

A slight smile and a sigh of relief escaped. The guard looked down at himself, as if assessing the damage.

"Do you remember what happened?" Vari asked, still trying to recall this man's name. The Ardeth had said it several times, but for some reason... Baelund. The man's name was Baelund, and he nodded slightly in answer to the question.

"Well, Baelund, you are certainly a blessed man. You were left for dead in the aftermath of the attack. You've come a long way, but you will need months of healing. Do you understand that?"

Baelund nodded again. He blinked several times, and the Healer could tell he was trying to stay awake. "Please listen to me. We need to move you and put you on a ship to go home. Do you understand me?" When he received another nod, he continued. "You can go back to sleep in a bit. It will hurt when you're moved, so we can give you a potion to help you sleep deeply. Do you want it?"

This nod was very shallow and hesitant. Vari smile reassuringly. "Before we move you, you'll get it. All right? Now, go to sleep. Sleep aids in healing." He watched as Baelund closed his eyes and the tensed body fell limp.

Feeling a similar exhaustion creeping up on him, Vari rose and headed to his last duty, overseeing the bodies to be either cremated or buried. He sorted through them, marking all but one for cremation. The final form he instructed to be wrapped in preservative herbs and shipped out to be buried in her homeland. He then found a cot back in the corner where he curled up and let the weariness take him.

#### Chapter Nineteen

Caenno slept well into the afternoon, which since his banishment relieved him of the burdens of court appearances, went unnoticed. There was a servant ready to bring him food, and he requested the service of another to help him start packing to return home. The hot meal revealed that it was later in the day than he realized, as it was close enough to dinner for the kitchens to already be cooking.

He dressed quickly, hoping that he would get a chance to visit with Kyrie at least once more before he left. The young woman needed all the support she could get, with her best friend dead and her trusted guard effectively gone. It should not take much to make sure she was protected, even if he needed to provide someone else. In fact, he would make a point to speak with Ramara about supplying several men to follow the queen.

The silence in the infirmary went unnoticed until Caenno asked to see the queen. He was informed that the queen had been moved, against Healer Vari's advice, back to her own room. The noble did not like the frisson of fear that twisted his stomach as he raced back up to the royal living quarters.

It was easy to see which room was Kyrie's. Vari stood outside the door, arguing violently with the guards that barricaded the closed door. Caenno's blood ran cold as he realized what that meant. Without a thought of personal safety, he threw himself into the fray.

### ~~~~

Kyrie dreamed she was flying. The floating sensation of movement was pleasant, although the voices in the background growing ever louder distracted her from the rest she craved. Her visions of fire and burning had dimmed in her memory but not vanished, and the lingering pain in her side plagued her every movement, so being rid of the nagging pain in sleep was her only escape.

As if thinking of the pain was enough to summon it, she felt her flight jostle her body and reawaken the throbbing. She moaned, and the volume of the voices ratcheted upward. The movement never stopped, and after an indeterminate amount of time, she sank earthward into a fluffy pile of clouds. Or, her waking mind finally identified, the featherbed that adorned her own bed. Although it was not the bed in her balcony room, she had a room somewhere else. Where was she?

As the remnants of the recuperative sleeping potion Vari had administered to her pulled her back into the sanctuary of sleep, she wondered whether the lessening volume of the voices was because of going back to sleep or if they were leaving. She never answered that question.

### ~~~~

When she awoke several hours later, she opened her eyes and stared at her room in the Andothorian palace. Her mind fuzzily sorted through memories, trying to sort out why she was alone in her bed, since Breka had slept with her since the attack. She could find no explanation for the deep ache that settled in her side, for the absence of her friend.

Inhaling as deeply as she could without actual pain, she braced herself and lifted her head and peered around the room. It was either very early or very late in the day, if she had to guess. There was no morning sun shining in her window, so she reasoned that it was evening. She had an odd awareness of a lot of time passing, but could not actually identify how she knew that. And she was not alone.

Arlexus sat silently in a chair, watching her wake up. Her breath hitched as she jumped at the sight of him. Unable to form words to him and breathless from the reflexive movement, she let her head fall back to the pillow and concentrated on relieving the pain that flared.

"I know you're awake, my dear."

She shuddered at his words but did not know why. "What happened?" she asked hoarsely.

"Don't you remember? Oh, of course you don't." Arlexus stood and walked to her bed, sitting easily on the edge. "Healer Vari told of your convenient memory loss. But leave it to the Healer to protect another of his ilk."

Kyrie's pain-blurred mind could not grasp what he was saying. "What?"

"Oh, I expected better of you. You've showed your claws by humiliating me in front of my court, in front of my own nobles. You even won my most powerful ally away from me. Now, my dear girl, there is no way I can tolerate that." He reached out to touch her face, and she barely restrained the urge to jerk away. "You should have known that putting _anyone_ between me and you would be... ill-advised."

Her mind cleared considerably as his reminders of that day where she had gone before him flooded back with a clarity enhanced by righteous anger. "I won't accept blame for you beating Breka after you got her with child." She glanced around the empty room. "Is that why you've banished her and Baelund? So you can come take advantage of a helpless woman?"

"You're not helpless. And I underestimated you to think that you were." He smiled, driving a shudder of reprehension and dread through her. "I didn't have to remove them. They've been dealt with already." Arlexus's voice hardened. "It's your own fault. No one denies me what is _mine._ "

"What do you mean, dealt with?"

The smile was back, and it turned the queen's stomach. "Why, your friends are dead, my dear. Don't you remember? There was an attack on my royal coach."

_Dead._ What did he mean? They were not dead. She saved Breka. Looking intently at the smug, self-satisfied face, the fear in her belly built apace with the anger boiling through her. "I know you think you own me, Arlexus, but I am your wife, not your pet. No one _owns_ me."

"I am king. _No one_ has the authority to stand against me. I have the backing of the Celestial Pantheon, blessed at my birth to rule. _You_ have no life outside of me. I am the one who grants you life. And those two fools who dared to cross me have met their fate for standing in my way."

"The Ancient is the only one who has authority over me," Kyrie said, letting her anger at this conversation deaden the ache in her side. Husband or no, she was not about to let him violate the core of who she was. "When it comes down to it, swearing vows to the sun and the moons means less than nothing to me. I am your wife because I made a promise to you, but I don't care if Optis himself appeared in this room and painted you purple right before my eyes. Your false gods have no say over my life, and you have less say than that."

The words were barely freed from her lips when Arlexus raged, growling as he backhanded her across the face. His eyes glowed with his fury, and terror froze her to the bed. In spite of her fear, Arlexus ground his teeth at the defiant look that never truly faded from her face. He thrust his hand down directly on her side. Kyrie shrieked from the fiery agony that raged through her again as his weight ground unmercifully against her stitched wound. Once the scream exhausted, though, she could not recover. Between his weight and the tearing pain stealing her strength to breathe, the queen mercifully surrendered to the blackness stealing her consciousness.

Arlexus refused to let the scream stop him. He needed to assert himself on her, show her that no matter what the circumstance, he did own her, body and soul. The light wrap that she had been dressed in to allow the healers access to her wound stood as no barrier to his fury. Conscious or unconscious, she would conceive his son. Without the boy, he could not complete his ambitions. The world would be his, and his youngest son would follow in his own footsteps to unite the whole of Nionosea under one rule, _his_ rule.

A clamor at her door distracted him, but the assurance that his guards would prevent anyone from daring to interrupt the king kept the noise from disturbing him. It was easier with her unconscious; he detested screaming women. The struggling and tears fueled his ardor, but screaming drew too much attention. Staring down into her slack face, he grinned as he completed her ravishment. She might not remember this, but she would never forget his dominance.

Strong hands tore him off her bed, and he screamed in fury at the interruption. Men filled the small room. Arlexus ranted to the men securing him to let him go, that he would have them executed for daring to lay hands on him. The king's words only trailed off when he saw Caenno push through the crowd and wrap the bedclothes around the queen to cover her nudity while allowing Vari through to minister.

The Healer's glare merely brought a smug grin to Arlexus's face, as he stood in the grasp of the men and took pleasure in the destruction that he had wrought. Caenno, for his part in this, had signed his death warrant. Riffin family or no, the man had sided with his wife too many times for the king to overlook the insult.

"Clear the room!" Vari spat, disgusted by the damage wrought by the depraved king. "Get me healers and supplies. I don't dare move her again." He tugged the sheet loose and wadded a corner of it to use as a dressing for the freely bleeding wound again. "Tell Hajil that I need to repair ripped stitches."

Arlexus smirked all the way to the throne room. No one would dare stand up to him again once he decimated the contingent of guards who escorted him. Glancing around, he did wonder where the men he had confiscated to stand at the door had gone. At least they had the intelligence and loyalty to obey their king without question.

He was startled when the parade did not stop in the throne room itself but continued into his private reception room behind it. A little disappointed that he was not going to be able to make the announcement of the mass execution public, although the hangings themselves would be, he strutted into the room, as much as one could strut while being forcibly escorted. The king stopped short at the sight of the Jopha Ramara sitting in his chair, behind his desk.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled, pulling away from guards who had released the king on Ramara's subtle nod. "How dare you have me paraded through the palace like this!"

"How dare I?" Ramara asked, a small smile on his face. "My dear cousin, it has never been how dare I do anything. How dare you?" At Arlexus's blank stare, Ramara laughed. "Did your mother never explain to you what your rights and duties are?"

"Duties?" Arlexus drew a deep breath and marched over to the desk, leaning forward onto his knuckles and glaring into the older man's face. "I am _king!_ You, all of you, owe me your loyalty!"

"No, actually, we don't." The softly spoken words startled Arlexus enough to draw back and blink in confusion. "As the most senior member of the Jopha, and your heir," and he spoke with the air of a gentle reminder, "I must point out that you, as duly sworn King of Andothorn, serve us. You serve the Jopha, you serve the Divarya, you serve the Bhaniya, and you serve the Kumasa." The smile never wavered from Ramara's face, even as Arlexus grew pale with fury. "Didn't you realize that the formal oaths during that coronation were meant literally? Your mother did. She served all her people, as did her husband King Mikalim before her. They understood where King Nikol had gone wrong, how he hadn't done as much for his people as he should have."

" _I am King!_ " Arlexus roared.

"No one is disputing that, dear boy, but being king has nothing to do with blustering around and expecting everyone to kowtow to you and do your bidding. That might be how your court operates in Caer Anthis, but here in Crynmarth, you are only granted royal boons if and when you demonstrate that you working for the kingdom's good." Ramara leaned back easily in the chair. "You have done nothing since taking the throne to indicate that you are interested in performing your duties, so why should the people of Andothorn reciprocate?"

Arlexus stiffened, his rage boiling inside him and making him want to strike out. "You'll have no choice but do as I command, _cousin._ My army will – "

"What army would that be?"

The words shook Arlexus. "What do you mean, what army?"

"Andothorn has no army. Crynmarth has no more than a simple peacekeeping force, mainly to protect the docks and the markets. Even the palace guard is more decorative than functional." Ramara sat up and gestured to the dozen armed men in the study. "These men? They are probably the only true combat trained force in the whole of Andothorn, and they are my personal guards. They answer to no one but me."

"No army?" Arlexus asked, shaking his head at that concept. "Onarias has had a standing army as long as there's been a king on the throne."

"Onarias also has to defend itself against outside forces. There hasn't been a war of that sort in Andothorn since we negotiated treaties to solidify the Onarian border."

"No army?" the king asked again. "You have a navy."

"Of course we do. We're merchants. We have a navy of merchant ships." Ramara sighed at the continued lack of comprehension. "I know that you came to the throne with delusions of commanding all the wealth and power of Andothorn, but the truth is, whoever sits upon the Andothorian throne is more involved in solving merchant disputes and settling land issues between nobles and supporting the two temples than spending our time going to war. Besides, to conscript the men needed to go to war, you need to have the noble families support you."

"They'll give them to me if I say so," he gritted out.

Ramara wondered briefly if the king's teeth would survive this meeting. "And why should they? How do you intend to make them? You have no army. You do not even have your own palace guard."

Arlexus's posture relaxed, which put Ramara on edge immediately. "Indeed. Well, cousin, do I need to fear for my safety? Apparently it's a valid concern, since my own mother's recent death. And I've heard rumors of conspiracy and foul play. Should I be denied the opportunity to conscript guards for my personal welfare?"

He let the king's questions sit in the open for a long moment, allowing Arlexus to gather confidence. "If you put faith in those rumors of conspiracy and foul play, as you say, then you have to assume that the rest of the nobles will take the gossip of you ordering the attack that wounded your queen and assassinating her lady-in-waiting and her personal guard as seriously."

Arlexus smirked. "Rumors, as you say."

The Jopha held the king's gaze, unsure of how much was sheer bluff and how much was arrogance that he was truly above the law. "As the head of the Jopha household, you will be escorted to your quarters where you will stay for the entirety of this evening. Then you will meet before the noble houses in three days. Your role as the King of Andothorn will be defined at that time."

"You're sending me to my room like a naughty child?"

Ramara held his gaze to show that he was not intimidated. "If you choose to think so, by all means. However, there has been a suspicious rash of violence against the royal house since your coronation. Apparently there is an element in the city that is, shall we say, not happy with the state of affairs. Consider this a way of safeguarding you from potential danger."

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the king and his guards. Once the door closed behind them, he allowed a slight grin cross his face. It was pleasing to gain the upper hand, even if for a moment. He glanced over to where his sergeant still stood at attention.

"Yes?"

"There is another situation with the queen, my lord."

"Another one? What is it, then?"

The man hesitated. "You sent us to stand guard for the queen, but the king had her moved back to her chambers. By the time we got there, he had told several of Divarya Diloma's personal guards to not let anyone in, no matter what the circumstances."

"Of course he'd prey on Diloma," Ramara said darkly. "Anyway, go on."

"When we got there, Lord Caenno was trying to fight his way in, as was the Healer. Divarya Diloma's guards wouldn't let them in, and we'd just started trying to sort out the mess when the queen screamed. I ordered our men in but Diloma's men stood firm. We had to fight our way through, so it took longer than it should have to get in there. When we got in, the king was..."

Ramara held his breath, not wanting to hear but at the same time needing to know. "Was what?"

"The queen was unresponsive, my lord, but the king was... violating her."

He heard the torment in the man's voice, and it mirrored the sickly, cold dread swirling in his own stomach. Violating her while she was injured? Unconscious even? The bile that rose in his throat choked him, and he controlled himself. The first thought that crossed his mind was to grab a blunt instrument and go kill his misbegotten cousin. Queen Dimitriadi would _never_ have tolerated this behavior in her son, let alone approving him as her heir.

"Where is Lord Caenno?"

"I'm not sure, my lord. I was just following your orders to guard the queen and to bring the king here."

"Please find him and ask him to join me at his earliest convenience."

Giving a smart assent and obeisance, the guard left the room and Ramara was left with his own thoughts. One thing was clear, something needed to be done about the queen. If she survived Arlexus's attack, she might not survive another.

How could the man have forced himself on his own wife? Ramara had no doubt that his man was telling him the truth; he had loathed even having to repeat what he had seen. The Jopha was relieved that he had decided to try to contain the king as much as possible until the lords could meet.

Ramara's initial meetings with the other nobles that were in residence was positive in regards to keeping Arlexus hamstrung. He had not lied when he told the petulant king that the real power and wealth lay with the nobles. However, he knew that there were some of the lower-ranking Divarya that would give Arlexus everything he wanted as long as he would return the favor to lift them above their peers. All the Jopha, well, the surviving ones, sided with Ramara that Arlexus was out of control.

The Divarya split nearly in half as he expected. The more conservative nobles sided with the Jopha, but the younger and greedier nobles perceived Arlexus as an avenue to move them up within the ranks. However, the conservatives benefitted from the presence of the Jopha, and any votes should sway their way.

Ramara dropped his head into his hands, as he told himself to send an additional offering toward the temples. Although he could lay it at the priests' feet that this man-child would not have existed as he was now if it had not been for their indulgent upbringing. Arlexus should have benefitted from the military training and political training. He did not doubt Caenno's efforts, but even he had admitted that Arlexus was already a spoiled brat by age twelve. Frustrated by thoughts of where everyone had gone wrong with the king did nothing to solve the problems he currently posed.

#### Chapter Twenty

A quiet knock sounded on the door, and Ramara looked up in relief at the interruption. "Come in."

Caenno walked in, shoulders heavy and a look of shock stamped into the lines on his face that hadn't been there earlier. "Ramara."

"Caenno. Please, take a seat. Do you need something to eat? Or drink?"

He shook his head slowly. "I could not possibly eat right now." Collapsing into a chair, he rubbed his hand over his face and scrubbed away the tears that appeared. "I never once imagined that Arlexus could sink so low. I truly didn't."

"I don't think anyone could. I know Dimitriadi would never have allowed him to be her heir if she'd had the slightest clue." The Onarian might have refused food, but Ramara poured him a large goblet of the strong wine he had ordered to stiffen his resolve to face Arlexus. He accepted Caenno's nodded thanks before he continued. "I tried to cut his legs out from under him, but I don't know how successful I was. The Jopha and a little over half the Divarya are very willing to deny him the means he wants, and he was quite put out to discover that Andothorn has no standing army and only a merchant navy, which will help with the militaristic aspirations."

"For a while, until he figures how charm his way into some of the nobles supplying what he needs. Then, he'll just take the rest of it by force." Caenno sighed and sipped at the wine again. "What he did... There... I have no words."

"My commander told me some of it. I didn't realize what was going on when I sent for him."

"I knew something was up when he moved Kyrie from the infirmary to her room, but seeing him with those guards keeping everyone out..." He leveled a firm stare at the Jopha. "Where did he get guards loyal to him?"

"They're not his. He got one of the lower Divarya nobles, Diloma, to supply them. I'll have a word with Diloma. He's a young man, came into his position two years ago when his father died. I don't think he understood what someone like Arlexus could do with them."

Caenno inhaled before draining the goblet. Knowing that Ramara needed to hear the details, he used the burn of the wine to fortify himself. "I slept most of the day. My ship will be ready to leave, hopefully within the next two days, so I wanted to see Kyrie before I left. When I got to the infirmary, I was informed that Arlexus had moved her to her chambers." He shook his head. "I knew – I just knew..."

"Don't blame yourself for his depravity," Ramara said. "It won't do anything to change what happened."

"I know, I know, but I can't help it. Anyway, when I got to her door, Vari was arguing, trying to get inside. I just charged. If he'd locked out Vari, then he couldn't be doing anything good." Caenno dropped his gaze to the floor and rubbed at his eyes roughly, as though trying to erase what he had seen. "Those guards – they slowed me down. I just couldn't..." Meeting the other man's gaze, he revealed all the regret and horror at what had been seen. "There was a scream. And then there wasn't another one. I don't know if I'd have been able to get to her before – If your men hadn't shown up to assist, I can't bring myself to think of what might have happened. When we finally got the door open, and saw him... I thought he'd killed her, Ramara. I thought he'd killed her. She was so still, and he was on top of her, just taking what he wanted.

"I never once thought that I'd feel so responsible for someone else's wife. She's young enough to be my daughter. If I'd put my own daughter in that situation, king or not, I'd kill the man."

Ramara fought to control his own rage at the images his mind produced at Caenno's descriptions at tearing the king off the unconscious woman's body. He knew that nothing he imagined would come close to the event, and that fact sickened him. Finally holding up his hand to halt Caenno, he said, "Enough. I need to..." He stood and walked to the window, staring out over the city. "I'm not a naïve man. I know there is evil in this world.

"However, it's so much easier to imagine evil as existing in heathen tribes or bloodthirsty enemies across the sea, but the truth lies so much closer to home. My own cousin. We shared ancestors. Shared blood. But he sits on a throne, a throne that gives him the right to make law. But does that put him above the rest of the law?"

Caenno shook his head. "I don't know how the letter of the law is here." He heaved a sigh. "I will initiate removing him from the Onarian throne. What he's done... As much as I hate risking someone else, I can't justify leaving him in power."

"Leave at once. I've put him off for a few days until the nobles meet with him. Take your man and get home." Ramara sighed and turned back to face his counterpart. "I know what I risk in doing so, but take the queen with you. I will help you smuggle her onto your ship."

Eyes wide, the Onarian nodded. "All right. I wouldn't have asked, but obviously we can't leave her here without consigning her to death. Or a situation where she would wish for death."

"If she is truly blessed by your Ancient, then keeping her here where there are few followers does no good, anyway. I will endeavor to keep Arlexus distracted and distanced from the queen so that her absence will not be noticed."

"I'll prepare to leave at once. In fact," Caenno said, refilling his goblet, "I'll move onto the ship either tonight or in the morning. Once I get a full report from Vari on the both of them."

"Excellent idea." Ramara offered his hand, and the two men clasped arms as equals. "I wish that ill deeds had not been the catalyst for our meetings, but I will treasure knowing you."

"The same. I'll send word as often as I can." Caenno took his leave and headed back to the queen's room.

Once again there were guards barricading her door, but these took one look at the Onarian noble and let him in with a respectful bow. He stepped inside and waited for the Healer to acknowledge him.

In the meantime, he watched as they still worked over the girl. The wound was uncovered, and he winced as he noticed the inflammation and dried blood streaks around the new stitches. Her face was flushed again, and Caenno hoped that this wasn't a recurrence of her fever.

"Ardeth Caenno, I didn't see you come in," Vari said as he sat in a nearby chair with a sigh.

"I didn't want to disturb anyone." He nodded to the young patient. "How is she?"

"Physically, I think we've stabilized her wound. I wouldn't even begin to guess how she is mentally, though. Who knows what Arlexus said to her. I can't imagine he was particularly gentle in breaking the news about the attack."

"But you're worried about something more," Caenno pressed.

Vari heaved another sigh, this one carrying the weight of worry and exhaustion. "She is showing signs of the fever again. I have one of my herbalists out preparing a preventative poultice, and I pray to the Ancient that it will be enough to avert it." The Healer looked around and nodded his thanks as the noble handed him a glass of whatever the nearest pitcher held. "Fighting off the last fever weakened her more than you'd think. I'm honestly not sure if she's strong enough to survive another one."

"Would sailing put her in more danger?" Caenno asked, dropping his voice to just above a whisper.

"Sailing? No, I can't see where it would, as long as you have plenty of supplies on hand." He blinked. "Oh. You mean to take her home soon."

The noble nodded. "Jopha Ramara made the decision not an hour ago." Again, his words were barely audible as he continued. "Although, if I hadn't been granted permission, I would have done it anyway."

"She'll be much safer." They shared a drink.

"Will you be traveling back to Caer Anthis?"

Blinking at the casually worded question, the Healer caught the unspoken question and nodded. "Yes, I've heard that there is a blight of some sort brewing in Erialar. Caer Anthis will certainly be the quickest way to get there."

Caenno nodded slowly and watched as a stooped old man entered the room as fast as his elderly legs could carry him. A woven basket swung over his arm, and in his wake wafted a pungent, earthy odor, which while not unpleasant was quite strong. Vari nodded and rose. "I have a poultice to apply. If you'll excuse me..."

"Of course." Caenno took his own leave, making his way back to his chambers. To his surprise, he saw that the majority of his belongings were stowed away in his trunks, ready to be taken on board. He dismissed the servant to arrange for transport to load the ship. While at his desk, he took the opportunity to consider his pending actions.

Assuming he could convince the rest of the nobles to remove Arlexus from the throne, they needed to have a valid candidate to replace him. Although the natural assumption would be to put Arthrax on the throne, Caenno could not see the boy being able to demonstrate the will and ability to rule. There were other options open, but the best ones were younger sons of noble families. One reason that Arlexus's lineage had been chosen was that they were powerful and intelligent warriors, but were not noble. Being able to have a bloodline outside of the noble families meant that no noble family could be favored over the others.

There was another reason against Arthrax and that would be finding a way to safely get him out of Crynmarth and back to Onarias without his father finding out. Given Arlexus's recent activities, killing off his oldest son would be nothing to him.

The ideal candidate would be a warrior, then, intelligent and strong but older, having his own strong heirs in place. As hard as Caenno thought, he could not think of anyone that fit those criteria. He might need to discuss the matter with the Old Blood families first, since he knew that Arlexus's chosen nobles would disagree with removing him. A slow smile grew as another thought occurred to him. There were a couple of the New Blood group that might be open to siding against Arlexus if they were guaranteed not to lose their positions in the coup.

His thoughts turned toward the practical matters of getting Baelund and the queen onto the ship. Kyrie could leave most of her wardrobe behind, but she would obviously need a few things. A quick note to Ramara should provide a trustworthy servant to pack up the necessities. All the queen's other items, including anything that should have been delivered from that ill-fated market trip, could be packed safely and transported on the next ship going to Caer Anthis. He wrote out his needs and requests, calling another servant to deliver the message to Ramara.

The sun had long since set, but in spite of the late hour, Caenno made his way to the stables and requested a carriage. He would have only taken a horse but he did not plan to leave the ship that night and the driver could bring the carriage back. Settling back, he made sure that he had a weapon readied.

The streets were neither as quiet or as dark as he had anticipated. In Caer Anthis, sunset meant that there were few streets illuminated, although the main ones were maintained faithfully. This city seemed to glow after dark, with shops and vendor stalls still open and hawking wares, even this long after the dinner hour. Aromas of roasting meat and broiled vegetables caught his attention, and he was tempted to halt to sample the wares. However, given the lateness of the hour, he decided he would just send out a servant the next day. Caenno idly wondered when the city slept, if it truly slept at all.

After dismissing the carriage to go back to the palace, the noble greeted the captain and inquired to the cabin that he would be traveling in this trip. The captain reassured him that he would have the same cabin as before, and called a sailor to show him the way. The nondescript man who arrived should not have drawn his attention, but something about the man made him look twice. Trying to convince himself that the man was familiar because he dad been on board when they sailed before did not entirely succeed. Instead, he asked the sailor his name. The name was not familiar, but Caenno filed the information away for further use. He would ask the captain later about this Lousek.

Settling into bed, he sighed and automatically reached out, disappointed as always when Salia was not there to pull close. He hated these long trips that took him from her side. She was a strong woman, not typically beautiful, and by the standards of the court, she was plain. Her green eyes stood out among the dark-hued majority of the local women, but her inner beauty shone out of her, and he had her by his side as often as he could manage. However much he craved the comfort she would have given him after the atrocities of this trip, he would never have risked her safety. In fact, he feared for her even at home, as Arlexus knew him too well, and knew that the most effective way to strike would be through Salia and his children.

Even though his son was coming along well, he did not want the boy to have to grow up too quickly. If it became necessary, he would send his family away to stay with relatives to safeguard them. Caenno sighed into the pillow. There were many changes, too many, that would be necessary in the coming weeks.

The most prickly problem would lie with the queen. Even though removing her from Arlexus's proximity would relieve the most pressing need of her safety, the fact remained that she was the Speaker, and she was needed to travel and speak truth to all of Nionosea. Allowing her to remain Arlexus's wife would see her tied to the man who would use her abilities for his own ambitions.

Would she be amenable to an annulment? That would work as long as she had not conceived. If she were pregnant, the only other option would be to stand up and divorce him. Caenno grimaced. That would put almost as big a target on her as being the Speaker. Divorce was not popularly accepted, and in Linevriand, it was illegal. She would need to be protected. However, with her marriage to Arlexus, she could not just change her name and hide. She had been paraded before too many nobles and diplomats for her face to simply be forgotten. Annulment would be the best option.

Another question that faced her would be her strength. She obviously needed time to heal from that wound, and if she stayed in Onarias, she would be found and returned to Arlexus immediately. Which might just be her death sentence, Caenno mused. No, they needed to find somewhere safe to hide her. Again, this was a problem that he could not solve now, there were too many variables.

#### Chapter Twenty-One

At some point, the ship rocked him to sleep, because the next problem he tried to focus on was the rising sun piercing the tiny window in his cabin and assaulting his face. Stretching out created pops and groans from his forty year old body, but once he relaxed and drew in a deep breath, he realized that he felt less stress than he had in recent days. Riding into battle was always a relief after the anxiety and exhaustion of planning the attack.

He dressed simply, needing to be ready to blend in on the docks or in the markets if necessary. The tunic and breeches were of nice quality, but too plain to be mistaken for anything other than a maybe a craftsman. As had been his habit on the voyage over, his breakfast was delivered to him by what he assumed was the cabin boy. The young man grinned his thanks at the worn silver piece that found its way into the grubby hand. Grimacing, Caenno hoped that those same hands had not been the ones helping to cook the food.

With his belly full and his mind alert and ready to face the day, he headed to the deck where a messenger from Ramara was waiting. He skimmed the contents before tucking them safely away so that he could burn them somewhere off the ship. The plain trunks were quietly loaded along with his own, not drawing any attention other than the sailors needing to know where to stow them. Once that was done, he told the captain that the Healer would be boarding later that day and to let him know when Vari was about to come aboard. There were some very delicate, very private cargo items that needed special care.

Once he received the captain's assurances, which were bolstered by the hefty bag of gold that Ramara had been wise enough to send as encouragement, he slipped off onto the docks. Caenno grinned. There was something to be said about dealing with merchants for so many years.

He mingled through the markets, picking out small gifts for his family, plus last minute necessities. With a basket loaded with the fragrant smells that had tempted him the night before, he walked back to the ship.

His timing was excellent, as Vari arrived just after he did. When the captain sent word, he arrived back on deck in time to see the Healer overseeing the loading of an eight-foot long wooden box, full of plantings. It was four feet high, and by the groans and curses, Caenno guessed that it was also very heavy.

"What's the point of trying to transplant these herbs if I can't bring back the native soil? I can't guarantee that the new soil will support them," Vari was arguing to the captain.

"Yes, but Healer, I don't have a room in the cargo bay with windows to support these."

"Put them in my cabin. Whatever light I have should suffice for the week of the trip. They don't need full sun, just enough to support them for several days."

The captain shrugged. "You heard him, men. The aft guest cabin. And watch it."

With more groans and complaints, the men hefted the crate again and began carefully negotiating down the corridor, rather than lowering it into the cargo hold. Caenno watched the procedure with mixed amusement and trepidation. He could only guess which patient Vari had hidden inside, but from the size of the container, he would assume it was Baelund. The camouflage was well-done. Even with a careful and suspicious eye, he could not tell that it was anything more than just a planter box, albeit an oversized one.

He followed safely out of the way until it was safely delivered to Vari's cabin. Once the sailors had left, he shut the door and latched it, guaranteeing the necessary privacy. Vari quickly slipped a series of latches, ones that had been designed to look like decorative brackets. The height split in two, and with some struggle, the top shelf removed to reveal a padded container with a sleeping man.

"If you can give me some aid," Vari said, pulling the stiff canvas edges out from under Baelund and wrapped the corners around his fists. The noble copied his motions. "On the count of three, lift onto the bed. One, two, three!"

In spite of Caenno's lack of experience, the two of them smoothly transitioned the patient from his hidden cocoon to the bed. After Vari was satisfied that the man was resting as comfortably as possible and had sustained to additional hurt from the transport, he sighed gestured for help putting the seedling shelf back on the crate. "Can't give our secrets away too quickly, now can we?" he panted. When they were finished, he led the noble into the other room and collapsed on the bed, wiping the sweat from his face.

"I still can't believe that man has survived. You must breed them sturdier than normal in Riffin," Vari said with a wry smile.

"Just well trained," Caenno replied. "How is he, really?"

"Healing on a near miraculous level. It's been less than a week since he was literally left for dead and he's nearly to a point where I dare feeding him solid food." The Healer shook his head. "I've barely had to use any of my Anointing on him, which is fortunate because the queen has needed intense healing."

"Use your Anointing? I've never head of that."

Vari grimaced. "It's a bit of what sets me apart from the rest of the healers, not that I'm at all maligning their skills. The Anointed Healer has the option of, well..." He frowned as he tried to explain. "It's like I absorb some of their pain, their illness, whatever is wrong with them. It's not pleasant, and I try to reserve it for serious patients who truly need lifesaving care."

"Doesn't that hurt you?" Caenno asked.

"Yes, it does, which is why I try to avoid it whenever possible. It's also what allows me to say without reservation that it was poison, not plague, that killed the Andothorian court."

The noble absorbed that information. "I knew about the Anointing of the Seer, the Listener, and the Speaker, having met one iteration of all of them in my life. I guess I just never thought about what kind of special ability being Anointed would bestow on you."

"Well, it's not like we advertise. Neiren and I are the only Anointed that spend much time in public." He sighed.

"So, this transport worked for Baelund, but I can't imagine that it will work for Kyrie the same way," Caenno said.

"No. I'm open to suggestions, if you have any to offer."

Caenno pondered the situation. "It's possible that Arlexus could send out ships after ours to take the queen back. Maybe we should... Hmm." Scratching his scalp as he sorted through possibilities, he closed his eyes and sighed. "We could ask Ramara to send out decoy ships at the same time we sail, but that is asking an awful lot of him, and he's been nothing but helpful to us. I hate to abuse that friendship.

"We could also have the captain divert course once we put to sea, which might work. However, it would take more gold than I have on hand to accomplish that." The noble paused as he worked out more details. "However, he did just receive a hefty, well, I shouldn't really call it a bribe to take on your unusual cargo." His smile and wink at the Healer painted the scene perfectly.

"We could also pray for a storm to blow us off course, although encountering a storm that severe in the Glass Sea is nearly impossible. The northern seas, it's a given, but here on the southern passages, eh." Vari shrugged as he tried to offer his idea.

Caenno laughed, causing the Healer to jump. "No, I wasn't laughing at your idea. I was just thinking that if I were given some sort of official summons right before we sailed, I could legitimately divert us to Vobria."

"That will only add a day or two to our trip," Vari said. "Hmm. That might work. But it will require another favor from Jopha Ramara."

"Ah, but sending a courier with a message is negligible compared to handing out another bag of gold or convincing merchants to sail without a full hold." Caenno nodded. "I think I'll pass that idea along right now." He rose but hesitated before leaving. "So, how had you been planning to get Kyrie on to the ship?"

"I had considered buying a large woven rug and wrapping her inside, but since she's still fevered, I hesitate using that ploy."

"She's ill again?"

"I think this is more a reaction to the shock of the attack. Her wound doesn't seem to be infected this time, but something is causing the her body to react."

Caenno grimaced. "He was physically on top of her. Is it possible he damaged something inside her?"

"It's possible, especially since that sword went all the way through her. Ironically, it was also the sword that saved her life." Vari nodded grimly when Caenno sent him a questioning look. "When we removed the sword, she began bleeding profusely. If he'd pulled it out then, she would have bled to death in the carriage long before it reached the palace."

Another jolt of fury shook Caenno as he had yet another sin to lay at Arlexus's feet. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he excused himself to pen the final request for Ramara. Once he sent it off, he rejoined Vari and they discussed the queen's transportation. Between them, they decided that the best way to handle it. So after making plans with the captain to sail at dawn the next morning, he left the ship and made arrangements to ship a large crate of textiles. The queen was surreptitiously exchanged for a healer girl, who took the queen's place in her bed. Since Ramara had given strict orders that only healers were to have access to the queen's room, the ploy succeeded. Kyrie was then carefully smuggled out wrapped in bedclothes. From the laundry chambers, she was dressed in a servant's garments and carried out the back of the palace, using the excuse that the girl was pregnant and had fainted.

The crate of textiles was waiting a few blocks from the palace, and she was nestled within the padding. The sedative draught Vari had instructed to be given worked perfectly, and Kyrie was still sleeping when the crate was brought on board as a last minute addition. Caenno had it placed in his own cabin, and Vari assisted him in getting the queen settled in the unused bed in the cabin.

### ~~~~

Lousek slipped off the ship. He was used to coming and going quietly, but the extra deliveries and the strange deliveries and the secretiveness of the Healer and the Ardeth indicated to him something that the king should know. He found it odd that he could not just walk in to meet with the king, but Arlexus dismissed it by saying something about additional security due to the attack on his queen.

Once he delivered his news, he was rewarded by the king with a small bag of silver and another errand. It was such a simple errand that he was shocked when the guards at the door refused to let him pass.

"You don't understand. I was instructed by the king himself to give this message to Queen Kyrie in person," he argued.

"Jopha Ramara has ordered that until the king meets with the nobles, no one is to see the queen. Healers are the only exception."

"The king has every right to speak with his queen," Lousek said, irritated at this obstacle.

He did not understand the disgust that the guard exhibited at his statement, but steadfastly refused entrance. The sailor yielded and retreated back to the king's room and explained his failure.

Fortunately, while the king seemed righteously angry at this, his wrath was not aimed at Lousek, and the sailor escaped to rejoin his ship. Even as well lit as the streets were, the man still kept out of sight and slipped back on board ship with no trouble, although he never noticed the man who had kept pace with him from the palace. Having taken careful note of which ship the sailor boarded, the man silently turned back to melt into the city once again.

#### Chapter Twenty-Two

Arlexus paced around his room, no, his _prison_. He could not wait to kill Ramara, watching the smug expression fade from the blade between his ribs. He had tried to leave the room earlier, but no matter what he attempted, he was either escorted by a full contingent of guards – Ramara's personal guards, no less – or he was denied. He was surprised they let his little spy in, although he doubted that he would be of much use again, since the man had been observed coming and going, and at such a late hour.

Still, receiving the news that Caenno was leaving with the Healer and with two such large and suspicious containers let Arlexus discern with no doubt that they were kidnapping his queen. Kyrie would sing for no one but him, and this time he would make her watch as he personally executed the last of her faithful protectors. Caenno's lifeblood would stain her feet, and that obstinate little twit would lament the day she first spoke to his noble.

Tomorrow would be the meeting, and no matter how much Ramara postured, there would be some nobles who would give him everything he wanted. He would send ships after Caenno and take his queen back. The rest of the wives could go back to Caer Anthis for all he cared. There was only one woman who would be by his side, and she would do it either happily or fearfully, but do it she would.

Then, once he had convinced his wife of her proper place and attitude, he would sail back to Caer Anthis and gather his army. While Ramara made much of the navy being only a merchant navy, merchant ships could transport fighting men just as easily as goods. He would kill Caenno and any of the other Old Blood hidebound fools that stepped in his way and sail to Mithlaris and seize her family's home.

The thought of ripping away her last bit of strength cheered him so much. The little brat needed punished for denying him. Even passing out before she could completely realize that she was being disciplined was an offense that would require her complete repentance. When he was finished with her, she would have learned her lesson not to deny him any part of her, and that included her special ability.

Although Arlexus firmly worshiped the Celestial Pantheon, being one of the few open worshipers of Optis, the Sun-Giver, he had been trained in the ways of the Ancient of Days. Frankly, he could not understand why so many of the people still believed in that outdated legend, but there were still enough of those oddities, the Anointed, who showed up around Nionosea to keep the myths alive. Neiren, the Seer, was the only one he had met, and he was easy enough to believe, since he echoed what Arlexus's own priests had already told him.

He had never seen the benefit in any of the other so-called Anointed, other than the Healer, whose practicality was apparent. What were the good of just speaking and listening, but hearing his shy little wife singing of his ambitions on their wedding night demonstrated that there could be some use to her ability after all. However, as she had sung of plans that he had never shared with anyone, he knew that there was a huge disadvantage to him if someone else used her. Also, he was not sure if she was aware of what she had said. When he made up words to query her about her singing, she had been genuinely confused and did not know what she was doing. As long as he could keep her ignorant, the advantage was still his.

A thought occurred to him, and he wondered if forcing her to convert to the Pantheon would take away her 'Anointing', but he dismissed the notion as it was the least of his concerns. The night was aging, and he still had plans to make.

### ~~~~

The last minute summons sending Caenno to Vobria to deliver a message worked. They were only a few hours out of port and the captain was obliged to change course and head northeast. As there were no other ships in sight when they changed course, the ploy seemed successful to give them a little time. Strangely enough, a storm did blow up not long after the course adjustment, and any chance of being spotted from a distance shrank as the wind howled, turning the normally placid Glass Sea into something resembling the churning waters off the Chaos Coast.

Kyrie woke after they put to sea that morning, and the rough waves combined with her weakened state left her violently ill. Vari was hard-put to find a solution for her nausea, and ended up funneling the queasiness into his own body. After vomiting over the side of the ship and being mocked by the sailors, he stumbled back to the cabin to continue laboring over the queen.

Baelund also woke, and here, the Healer found nothing but encouragement in the guard's recovery. His strength returned quickly enough that it took quite a bit of effort to keep the active man in bed. The stitches would not be ready to be removed for a few more days, and there was still the danger of reopening wounds.

The summons that Caenno had received also contained a short note from Ramara. One of his guards had been suspicious of a visitor to the king, especially when the king tried to send that same man in to see the queen. He was a sailor on their ship and the Jopha had passed on the description. Caenno had recognized the depiction as Lousek, the sailor who had aroused his suspicions earlier.

"What's wrong?" Vari asked as he noticed Caenno frowning at the message.

"More politics, more intrigue, more trying to tiptoe around and see who I can trust or not trust." He threw the paper down and grunted, rubbing his eyes heavily with the heels of his hands. "Arlexus has someone on this ship reporting directly to him, and I would guess that he knows all about the queen."

"What about Baelund?" Vari asked.

Caenno shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I'm not sure if it would matter if he did know. My guess is that he tried to get rid of Baelund just to get to Breka. Speaking of which," and he grimaced as he glanced toward the other room. "I need to talk to Kyrie, if she's up to it."

"You can try. She's been in and out of sleep today, and with the storm making her sick, I don't think she's been coherent enough to try to sort anything out." The Healer shook his head. "I do not envy you."

"I owe her that much. In trying to protect her, I put her even more at risk."

"You did what you had to do. You're not omnipotent."

Caenno opened his mouth to rebut that, but assuming guilt for what Arlexus had done was counterproductive. "I'll do what I can to fix it from now on."

"I need to go check on her. It might be better to wait until tomorrow morning, when you're both better rested."

"Am I a coward for embracing that excuse?" Caenno asked with a self-deprecating laugh. "Is she doing any better?"

"I think so." Vari sighed and heaved himself up out of the chair. "Why don't we just plan on you talking to her in the morning, unless she asks. And that's me speaking as her Healer."

"Agreed. The captain has already asked me to eat with him tonight, so I'll make sure something is sent your way."

"My thanks."

Caenno headed toward the captain's quarters. Having sailed with Captain Jara many times, they had developed certain habits, such as dining together the first night at sea. And while he had known the captain for many years, the noble wondered where the man's politics and loyalties lay. It was not something that had ever really come up, since every previous trip had been on behalf of the king, not in spite of him.

The easy chatting gradually turned to where Caenno directed the conversation. He considered the wine in his cup as he tried to phrase his question. "Have you ever had to kick a crewman off your ship?"

Jara nodded. "Several times. Fighting, gambling, fighting over gambling, gambling on the fighting." He laughed. "One time, I had three men sneak a prostitute from Rhayady into their bunk. I was nearly three days off the coast when I finally discovered her. I probably wouldn't have cared as much but they got into my cargo of frostwine and drank nearly half the shipment! Stopped at the nearest port I could find and told them to find their own way home." Shaking his head, he laughed again. "Those four were so drunk I'm surprised they could remain upright. Wasn't so funny at the time, cost me a good bit that did, but all these years later, thinking about how confused they must have been sobering up to find themselves in some no-name fishing village and no memory of how they got there..."

Caenno joined in, amused at the whole story. Although, the captain was a true sailor, so he had learned earlier that such tales should be taken with caution, particularly if there was drinking associated with the stories. "I have to admit, I've let soldiers go for similar stunts. One time, I had half a dozen try to steal some sort of relic from this clan in Evralond. We were camped on the border, and I'm fairly sure that there was wine involved in this, but I wake up before dawn to shouts and hoots and find some crude statue of... To this day, I'm not sure what it was supposed to be, but apparently it was some sort of fertility god..." The noble smiled when the captain roared with laughter. "Once my men took a look at it in the light of day, it was apparent that either it wasn't what they thought it was in the dark or they were really drunk, because they quickly volunteered to return it. When they carried it back in to the village, the elders came out to see what they'd returned. My men were then inundated with offers of, well... I think you can follow my meaning."

"And you let them go for that? I would've used them as examples of manliness to the rest of the soldiers," Jara hooted.

"It was the theft, not the result that I had a problem with." Caenno smiled at the memory. "Still, I heard that for years afterward, they could still garner free drinks in the taverns for that story. I don't think it hurt their reputations that much."

"I'm sure." The captain sobered slowly as he contemplated the noble. "I'm betting that you didn't ask that question just to exchange amusing yarns. What are you fishing for?"

"Curiosity, first and foremost. I was trying to imagine keeping order on a ship would be quite... interesting at times." He let his comments hang in the air as he attempted to choose the appropriate words to continue.

Jara leaned forward and slammed his mug on the table. "Do you know of something done on this ship that I need to discipline?" he asked, no longer amused.

Caenno sighed. "I honestly don't know. Yet." He decided to play it straight. "I received word with that summons that one of your sailors was observed dealing with a man being held for attacking his wife."

"Attacking his wife? What sort of..." Fortunately for Caenno, the muttered name-calling remained incomprehensible as the captain lapsed into what Caenno identified as half a dozen different languages to express his displeasure with the wrongdoer. "One of my men was seen in the prison?"

"Not in the prison. He is a noble, so he is under house arrest in the palace, but yes, he was seen reporting to this noble."

"One of my men, consorting with criminals." Jara scowled at the table. "Has he done anything on board?"

"That's the dilemma. I don't think so. I think he's just spying on your passengers, and that's not an easily proven allegation." The growl that emanated from the captain degraded into a diatribe of salty terminology, with descriptions that Caenno was not sure he would ever cleanse from his mind's eye.

"Who is it?"

Caenno held up his hand. "It's not that simple, believe it or not. There is a huge complication to add to this."

"What could possibly justify anything in this mess?" Jara asked.

"The man who attacked his wife is King Arlexus."

The captain whooshed out a loud, harsh breath. He struggled for a few moments to speak, but gave up, poured another mug of wine, and emptied it noisily. "Now I see why you tiptoed around so much."

"It's not exactly easy to say that the king has been behaving as a common criminal. Not only was that the case, but I was one of the witnesses to the crime." He tipped his cup to peer inside. "And it's a sight I hope I never see again as long as I live."

"So, the king has been using one of my sailors to spy on the passengers for him?" Jara tugged at his beard. "Under normal circumstances, I'd say hands off, fair use of men. Do you know what kind of information was being passed?"

"Honestly, no, I don't. I can guess, though." Caenno grimaced. "How much have you heard about what has been happening in Crynmarth since we docked?"

"Queen died, Arlexus crowned, city in unrest. Is there more?"

"The unrest bit was actually Queen Kyrie getting attacked in the royal coach, supposedly by brigands. The truth is that the queen was stabbed, her lady Breka and her guard were killed."

"The king stabbed her? Why?"

"No, no, no. Arlexus didn't stab her, although I wouldn't be at all surprised if he had something to do with that attack. His attack on her came while she was trying to recuperate. He... well, he attacked her in her bed."

The sun-weathered skin of the captain faded to the color of bleached parchment. "You mean he... He took her in her bed? While she was still injured?"

"Not two days ago."

"And you saw this, with your own eyes?"

"For all that I wish I hadn't, yes, I did. I was one of the men who pulled him off of her as she lay bleeding and unconscious in her own bed."

If Caenno thought he had been treated to the sailor's rough sea vocabulary before, this last revelation unveiled the captain's true command of the profane. "I don't care how exalted a man says he is, no rank, privilege, or position grants him the right to do something like that." There was a brief silence as Jara mulled over that information. "Queen Kyrie, you said. That little girl on our last trip?"

"The same." At this point, the noble weighed whether it would be worth it to confide the presence of the two invalids on board the ship, but decided that the knowledge could only endanger the man and his crew.

"So, what exactly do you expect me to do with this spy on board?"

"I don't know." Caenno sighed heavily. "I want his spying curtailed, as I am currently on a mission that I don't want bandied about, but on the other hand, using him to pass inaccurate information to the king could be of use in the future."

Jara shrugged. "So finding some slight that required him to be on lookout duties for hours at a time might be a safe way of avoiding the problem."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands, as long as you keep him away from me and the Healer."

"So, you prefer not to share information on what else was in that large box of plants?" the captain asked with a wry smile.

Caenno hesitated only briefly. "If it becomes necessary, you will be informed. However..."

"What I don't know can't hurt me."

"Exactly, Jara." The noble smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry to be so vague, but I needed to... Well, whether you – "

"Supported the throne or the man." The captain leaned back in his chair and shook his head slowly. "No man has the right to use his power to prey on the weak. Oh, give me the name of the sailor, and I'll have him toeing the line immediately."

"Lousek."

"Lousek?" Jara looked surprised. "Huh, didn't really come to mind when you said spy." The captain nodded slowly. "All right. I'll keep him busy and out of your hair. It's only for a few more days anyway."

"My thanks." Caenno grinned at the small cask. "You got anymore of this wine? I could be convinced to take a bit off your hands."

"I'm sure we could come to an arrangement."

Bidding each other a good night, the noble trudged back to his cabin. Political maneuvering was like walking a narrow path in a bog. One wrong step and one got muddy; two wrong steps and one got dead. The effort of watching every single word, weighing who was trustworthy and who was not, parrying with words so that the situation did not devolve to parrying with swords – every bit of it was exhausting. Caenno yawned deeply. He would focus on getting a solid night's sleep and then facing Kyrie in the morning.

In spite of his outward, careless appearance, the noble actually watched carefully for Arlexus's spy. A thorough mental review of the last voyage revealed images of the man lurking, but never intruding. His call to limit his time with the queen seemed to be wise, as there was nothing worth using against either him or Kyrie.

Lousek was visible as Caenno paused at his cabin door, but even though the noble hesitated to open his door, he did not look toward the man. It was worth it to be able to keep the option open to be able to feed false information to the king. He realized that he had been at the door a bit too long, so he leaned his head against the panel as if he was resting.

"Something wrong?" Vari asked from down the corridor.

Caenno turned his head toward the Healer, listening for anything that would give his watcher away. "Nope. Just the wine that Jara served catching up with me."

When a slight shuffle told him it was safe enough to look, he sighed and raised his head. "Come in with me?" he asked.

Vari frowned slightly but nodded and followed the noble inside. Once the door was shut, Caenno sighed and bolted the door securely. "Our little spy was outside, watching."

"Didn't you talk to the captain about him?"

"Yes, but if we handle him subtly, then it's possible we could use him in the future to pass on information of our choosing." He nodded toward the second bedroom. "Also, I thought you would want to see to Kyrie for the night."

"My thanks, Ardeth," Vari said with a slight bow. "Good night."

"Good night."

### ~~~~

The Healer stepped into the smaller second room, sniffing for the indication of infection. Putrefaction produced its own distinct odor, but none of that was present. Still, it was the first thing he looked for when he changed her bandages. Her wound was still red and uneven, as the stitches were not as neat as they were the first time. The torn flesh puckered around the new efforts to close the flesh. The original injury would have left a bad enough scar, but this would be a puckered mass of scar tissue, thanks to Arlexus's reopening of the wound. Vari sighed in disgust.

Kyrie barely moved during his ministrations. He was beginning to be concerned by her lethargy. Rest was necessary to heal, but the sedative potions had barely been necessary.

"Kyrie, can you open your eyes for me?" he said softly, bathing her flushed face. "Open your eyes."

The heavy lids fluttered with effort, but she just moaned instead and rolled her head away from him. Vari sighed and let her go back to sleep. There really was no reason to be awake other than to assess her mental state, and he had already told the Ardeth to wait until morning. Once he completed his tasks, he nodded to the noble, who sat at the desk reading correspondence. He left and heard Caenno bolt the door after him. The Healer's knock at his own door allowed his healer to unbolt his door and allow him in.

He readied himself for bed before being startled by a voice behind him. "How fares the queen?"

Vari jumped and glanced over his shoulder at the question. "She is... well, her wound is healing. Slowly."

"I failed her. And her lady."

The Healer snorted. "From what I hear, eight to three odds aren't really ones to bet on. You took out five of them single-handedly."

"But I didn't kill the one that counted."

"If you insist on shouldering blame, don't bother. There is none to bear," Vari said, rolling his eyes at the self-flagellation. "She is alive. And she did damage of her own with that little dagger. Stabbed a man and took his eye."

Baelund stared at him. "But her lady... I failed the duty my to protect her. Ardeth Caenno charged me with that."

"I feel safe in saying that the Ardeth was simply happy to find you alive." Vari stared at the man openly, letting his honesty show. "The Ardeth is staying just down the corridor, and he's the one who helped smuggle you on board. I'm sure he'll want to speak to you tomorrow, since you're obviously feeling strong enough to talk tonight." Spying the signs of weakness, Vari cut off whatever protest Baelund was summoning. "Now, that's enough for tonight. Rest and save your strength for tomorrow."

A mumble that sounded suspiciously petulant drew a smile to Vari's face, although he carefully hid it from his patient. Collapsing onto the cot that had been set up earlier, he doused the light and let his mind and body relax in the dark. The bed rustled as Baelund tried to do the same thing.

#### Chapter Twenty-Three

Kyrie knew that she should wake up. The warm sun on her face told her it was morning, and the gentle rocking told her she was on a ship. It was safer, though, to stay in her dark, cottony netherworld than to face what she knew awaited her.

She remembered, much more than she wanted to, much more than she could handle. There was still nothing between Dee's funeral and waking up on fire herself, and despite the protestations, she still thought that she had fallen into the pyre. However, the healers had done a pretty good job of convincing her that she was only fevered, although no fever she had suffered as a child compared to waking to that conflagration.

Voices impinged on her senses, and in spite of her stubborn refusal to wake, aromas of food tickled her nose. The smell of fresh bread turned her traitorous body against her, and she heard her stomach rumble. Strangely, she did not recall the last time she had eaten, but the lack was suddenly making itself known.

"Queen Kyrie?"

Unbidden, her eyes flew open at the unfamiliar voice. She stared at a man that she thought she had seen before, but it took a moment of serious searching before she identified him as the man with the cool hands, the one who helped her when she was burning.

"You've healed enough to try some solid food, if you are hungry."

She nodded but cautiously peered behind him to look for her husband. The man put the tray on a small table and propped her up with some pillows. Relaxing back into the fluffy incline, Kyrie took a better look around. It was not like Arlexus to stay quiet so long.

"I hope you'll understand, but I need to ask you some questions," he said as he settled the tray on her lap.

Nodding, she tried to focus on him but the hot breakfast roll, fresh sliced fruit, and steamy mug drew her attention far more than it should have. Fears of her husband melted away from the sheer pleasure of eating.

Vari watched, torn between amusement at the girl's delight in the simple breakfast and heartbreak at the panic in her eyes when he spoke to her. The only words he spoke were cautions to eat slowly since it had been a while. When only some rinds and a bit of the fruit remained, decorated by the crumbs of the swiftly eaten roll, he took a seat on the edge of her bed. Some of her trepidation reappeared, but he smiled and tried to ease her mind.

"How do you feel this morning?"

"Sore."

"Do you have any pain?"

She considered that but shook her head. "Not pain so much as aches. Maybe a little stinging."

The Healer reached out his hand. "I need to take a look at how you're mending." When she pulled back, he smiled again. "Do you remember who I am?"

Kyrie's hesitant expression answered for him, and he laughed softly. "It's to be expected if you don't. You weren't exactly at your best when we met. I'm Vari, Anointed Healer of the Ancient of Days."

Hearing that title sent a wave of relief through her so strong that she fell limp against the pillows, and tears pooled briefly before they cascaded down her pale cheeks. "You're Anointed?" she asked in a whisper, needing the confirmation.

"I am. And you're quite fortunate that I was already in Crynmarth."

"What happened? What's happened to me?" the queen pleaded, unable to halt the tears once they started.

"Why don't we wait on that just a bit. I will tell you that for now, you are absolutely safe."

The queen's quiet tears erupted into sobs at his words. Vari held her as best he could, but she shook with the spasms as the trauma and fear of the last few months exploded out of her. The storm did not persist, and when her weeping eased, the Healer experienced his own relief to see vitality in Kyrie's face, more than she had expressed thus far.

He cleaned away as much of the evidence of her crying as possible, then spoke softly. "If you don't mind, my lady, Ardeth Caenno should be involved in this conversation. We all have much to discuss."

She nodded weakly, and asked for a drink of water. As soon as she had slaked her thirst and cleared her throat, he stepped to the door and spoke. Caenno smiled at the queen, although she could see that he was weighted by cares as much as she was.

When they had both taken seats by her bed, Kyrie looked between the two of them, seeking the truth. "Is Arlexus on this ship?"

"No, he is not," Caenno stated with authority. "And even if he sends ships after us, we have taken precautions to avoid them." He smiled again, this one rueful as he took in her sigh of relief. "Now, where shall we start?"

"After Dee's funeral. I remember her pyre, I remember the heat, but everything after that is either gone or..." She shuddered at the images that plagued her. "Or a nightmare."

Caenno and Vari exchanged looks, but the noble took the lead. He told of the shopping trip and the attack. Kyrie's pallor blanched even further, and Vari had to stop the explanation to make her drink some of his restorative tea he had prepared, having foreseen the need.

Bracing herself against what she knew would be coming, Kyrie clenched the sheets in her fists and asked, "So, where are Breka and Baelund?"

The noble paled as he confirmed her fears. "Your lady Breka is dead. I'm sorry."

Although grief and regret warred within her, Kyrie spilled no tears at this. Arlexus had spoken the truth, then, and whatever hope she held that he was simply toying with her withered away. Instead, she grasped the wisp of anger that germinated within her, focusing on it and feeding it to ward off the rest of the ill news she knew remained. "So, I am truly alone."

"Not at all, my lady," Caenno said fervently, grasping her cold, clenched fist and warming the fingers within his own hands. "Baelund yet lives."

"Baelund survived?" That was simply too much to hope for, and Kyrie ruthlessly squelched the flicker of light within her.

Vari grinned and nodded. "He is just down the corridor in my cabin. He gains strength every day, and I have to say, his recovery is nothing short of miraculous."

"He was left for dead with the brigands, but he still drew breath to survive," Caenno added, and the open truth on their faces finally encouraged Kyrie to trust them. "He was gravely injured, but he killed five men singlehandedly before falling." The noble squeezed her hand gently. "You did damage yourself, my lady. One of the men showed dagger wounds, and as you possessed the only dagger..."

Kyrie stared into the noble's face, trying to place the expression he wore. It was the same as the one her father wore when her oldest sister did something that impressed him, the one that he never wasted on any of the younger girls. The simple truth shocked her. Caenno was proud of her.

"Oh." That single word carried the weight of her realizations, the relief at Baelund's survival, and the grief of her friend's death.

"Besides," Caenno added, "I am with you."

"At great risk of your own," Kyrie spat, bitterness erupting. The anger at Arlexus burst into full bloom, and it was so easy to let the engulfing fury bury those other feelings.

"I admit that, but I have plans to keep the king at bay, perhaps even halt his ambitions. At least we'll slow him down, and perhaps stop him altogether."

She inhaled, trying to settle her anger into something manageable. "So, what next?"

The noble patted her hand. "We have many plans to make, and since you must be part of them, we will retire for now and allow you to regain your strength."

"No, wait. What else are you hiding?" she asked. "You told me of how I got hurt, but I remember pain and fever after Arlexus met with me. Did he do something else?"

"He attacked you. Tore the stitches." Caenno's voice was flat, toneless, and told Kyrie far more than she wanted to know.

"We will continue this later. I have to change your bandage now, and if you're up to it, I'd like to leave it uncovered to take advantage of the sea air." Vari gave Caenno the opportunity to tactfully retreat, but the noble graced the hand he still held with a quick kiss.

The queen lay quietly as the Healer spoke of what he was doing, that the wound looked much improved. She was exhausted by her outburst and the confirmation of Breka's death. In spite of all her efforts, she had harbored hope that Arlexus was lying, just trying to be cruel. He had been cruel, but he had also been truthful, about Breka, at least.

There was genuine joy and relief that Baelund had survived. She had counted the stoic man as a friend, but to hear of how bravely he had defended her and Breka brought the sting of tears back to her eyes. Quickly she blinked them away, not wanting Vari to think that he had hurt her.

After he left her with instructions to sleep, she pulled the bandage back and looked at the wound on her side. It sat just below her ribs, and since he had worked on her back as well, she assumed it went all the way through. Her stomach churned at the idea of that, but stern control kept her breakfast where it was needed.

The puncture site itself was red and puckered, an ugly thing, nearly four fingers wide. She wondered if the scar would fade as her others had. Perversely, she hoped that it remained just as ugly as this wound, reminding her of how her husband had abused her.

No, husband no more. Kyrie whispered the words aloud, renouncing her vows before the pagan gods and praying to the Ancient to forgive her. The king was nothing to her, had no further claim on her past this mark on her side. It was not official or legal yet; she would need to repeat the proclamation in front of Caenno or whoever, but it was official in her own heart and mind.

With a clearer mind and conscience than she had in months, Kyrie fell asleep, smiling.

### ~~~~

Caenno's visit with Baelund was easier, even though he spent a lot of time arguing with the man that he had not failed the queen, that as the Ardeth he was proud of him, and that he was sure that the queen held no blame for the situation. Baelund was a good man, but he was stubborn to a fault, which, Caenno reflected with a grin, might be why he liked the man.

In spite of all his reassurances, the noble was not entirely convinced that he relieved Baelund's doubts. He suspected that only the queen could fully alleviate those. Still, he was encouraged as went to meet with the captain.

Jara's news of a ship being spotted far off to the southeast was not particularly good news, but it not really bad, either. It was seen in the normal shipping lanes, not headed northeast to Vobria, so unless it showed again, closer to them, the odds were good that it was not pursuing them. The captain also informed him that Lousek had been put to galley duty, the discipline for several minor offenses. There were quite a few others who had been caught for the same misdemeanors, but Jara said that the surprise inspection was good for the overall discipline of the crew and that Lousek should not feel that he was singled out.

There was also news that the storm had pushed them ahead of schedule and that they should make dock in Vobria early in the afternoon on the following day. Caenno took that as good news and, when the captain excused himself to answer a question, he leaned over the railing and stared out at the sea. The southeastern coast of Andothorn was barely visible on the horizon, a faintly gray smudge against the differing blues of the sky and sea. Stopping would postpone them reaching Caer Anthis by more than a day, but if they could avoid Arlexus's pursuit ships on the open sea, that would keep the advantage away from the king.

The closer they got to facing the reality of having to remove Arlexus from the throne, the more worried Caenno became. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many variables that he could not account for in all his planning. Also plaguing him was the fact that he was now responsible for Kyrie's safety, once they annulled her marriage. That was another reality that was not pleasant to contemplate. Arlexus would not accept her rejection, and that only deepened her danger. The simple truth that he had tried to avoid assaulted him, and he felt the realization as physically as a blow to the gut. Kyrie could not stay in Onarias.

Caenno did not want to identify why he felt so bereft at that conclusion. She was not from Onarias, and without a husband, she had no reason to stay. In fact, she would die if she stayed. However, he had grown close to the young queen, and no longer seeing her would be...

Startled by the turn of his own thoughts, Caenno deliberately brought his wife to mind and felt the familiar rush of love and affection for her. Relieved that his feelings for the young queen were not of _that_ nature, he brought to mind his children and correctly placed his view. Somehow along the way, he had adopted her in his mind as one of his own children. As such, he felt as much of a responsibility to her as to those of his blood.

The waves surrendered no answers to his dilemmas as he stared into them. Frustrated, he sighed and turned away, returning to his cabin to try to plan some more.

#### Chapter Twenty-Four

Arlexus had not been idle during his forced isolation. Servants came and went constantly, most bearing luxuries and food, but a few came and went with no such obvious duties, and most of them the king sent out as decoys for the real messages he sent.

Assuming that all his activities would be tracked, he passed the real messages along with empty platters and trays. There were several of the Divaryan nobles who were eager to assist their new king, and in spite of Ramara's smug assertions that there was no wealth or military might to be had, the king received promises of both within a day. It was nothing like what he was accustomed to in Onarias, but he would take all he could get until he gained full power here.

Finding out from his sailor spy about the suspicious crates on board threw Arlexus. That seemed rather straightforward for Caenno, who played both his cards and his politics close to the chest. He had expected them to try to keep his queen away, but not by something so uncouth as kidnapping her and smuggling her out. More probable was that Caenno was using that as a decoy and was hiding the queen either on another ship or by moving her by land. With her injuries, both options posed risks. It was also possible that they would keep her in the city until she healed enough to move her.

Deciding to take no chances, Arlexus had one of the Divarya send out as many of his fleet as possible to try to catch them out on the open water. He knew they would not be able to put to sea as quickly as Caenno's ship, and if reports were accurate, there were four other ships leaving port at roughly the same time, but he could hit as many as possible. Retaking his queen at sea was much more advantageous than trying to retake her in Onarias, which would raise problems for both he and Caenno, although Arlexus was confident that even there against the Old Blood families, he held the high ground, both morally and legally. They were the ones who kidnapped his wife, after all.

In preparation for meeting his new nobles, the king knew that he had to make a stand – perform an undeniable show of strength. As much as he longed to put Ramara in his place, preferably an early grave, he knew that a full frontal attack against his heir would do more harm than good. Arlexus cursed the foul luck that had allowed Ramara to escape his fate that should have taken the Jopha when it took his mother. The cleverly planned and executed assassination had failed, and the king was not used to failing.

When he readied himself for the meeting with the nobles, Arlexus took care to dress in local court styles, as opposed to the Onarian manner he preferred. The shorter trousers and tunic suited his look well, and he looked as charming as ever. He spent a considerable amount of time channeling his seething anger at being subjected to this farce, this pretense that they could control him, so that he smiled and looked in complete control when he was finally escorted to the throne room.

The throne was still in place, and he was escorted there, but something had changed – the dais it sat on was not as high as it had been, and the chairs around the perimeter had been raised. Arlexus frowned briefly before clearing his face. Instead of the throne reigning over the nobles' chairs, they were all on nearly level pegging. What a childish, petty tactic.

"Your Eminence," Ramara began after everyone had taken their seats. "We will begin with you as we did your much beloved mother when she took the throne."

"Swearing loyalty to me?" Arlexus asked with a snide grin. "Very well, you may begin." Ramara laughed at him. Arlexus froze, and his carefully controlled anger boiled to the surface. "I didn't realize I said something amusing."

"Your mother, Queen Dimitriadi, understood what was expected of her. The throne of Andothorn is not a seat of conquest. It is a seat of leadership. Leaders do _not_ demand respect, they earn it. And you, King Arlexus, have done nothing to earn it."

"I am king, and therefore you _owe_ me your support."

A soft murmuring arose at that comment, and Arlexus smiled at the undercurrent of support he heard in the chatter. It suited him to sit back and smirk at the dissension he sowed.

Another noble spoke up over the rabble, quieting it immediately. The speaker was a venerable old man that Arlexus remembered from his last visit to see his mother. "Young man, I owe you nothing. You see riches and power as your birthright, but they're not. Monarchs that sit where you are sitting have never expanded their territory by conquest, but by negotiation and diplomacy. I know you have been informed of this by Jopha Ramara, and from your attitude, you have not listened. This is not part of the negotiation. Your mother was a wise woman, and a wise ruler. She put her people first, as did her husband King Mikalim. Your mother – "

"My mother is _dead!_ " Arlexus roared. "I am here, and I am king. I will show you what kind of man I am." With that, he stood and walked to the old man, who faced him silently. The blade glinting in the open caused many gasps, particularly when it flashed out and laid the old noble's throat open. "I rule, and I rule by force. There is no other option for you. Kneel before me, or join this old fool."

He made a terrifying sight, rich clothes shining with the wet blood from man dying at his feet. Silence ruled, and Arlexus enjoyed the thrill of power and horror as the other nobles filled the echoing hall with their reactions. Jopha Ramara stood, walked to face him, and the king grinned in anticipation of the arrogant man on his knees in front of him. He would kill the fool anyway, once the others bowed to him.

Instead, Ramara turned on his heel and stalked out, head held high. Another Jopha stood and repeated Ramara's actions. One by one, all the nobles stood and left, most of them turning their backs on the murderer in their midst. A few of the nobles looked at him, but none of them actually bowed to him. The most recognition he got was a nod from two or three of the lesser nobles.

Arlexus stood, stunned. The only sounds in the room were soft-soled shoes shluffing on marble and the blood dripping on the floor. They left. They left _him._ That was not supposed to happen.

He screamed at them to come back, that he ordered them to come back. He screamed for guards to do his will, to bring them back. All the guards did was to disarm him, which was especially easy, and drag him from the throne room. Arlexus screamed all the way to the detainment cells, which were a barely a step above dungeon cells. He was locked inside and left, on his own, screaming.

### ~~~~

Ramara stood inside the adjoining room, shaking. Jitara had volunteered to be the one to speak, and while they had known that pushing Arlexus would cause him to strike out, Ramara had not expected the quick bloodletting. From the way the old Jopha had spoken, though, he suspected that Jitara knew what the king would do. King no more, not if he had any say, Ramara thought.

Clearing his throat, he brushed aside the tears that had begun falling. Voices stilled as he did so, and he realized that there had been arguing going on while he had been in shock.

"Please, let us come to order to make this decision." Ramara met every noble's gaze, one by one, as they met his gaze. "I know this is not an easy situation, but we must pass judgment on Arlexus, son of Queen Dimitriadi."

"How can you pass judgment, Jopha Ramara? You assume the throne, should King Arlexus be exiled or executed."

Ramara identified the speaker as one of the lower-ranked Divarya, Hara. Before he could frame a response, Jopha Gopala spoke sharply. "How can you even consider that Arlexus receive anything less? He murdered Jopha Jitara in front of us, with no remorse, with no guilt. All Jitara did was speak to him. Do you honestly think that leaving him on the throne will excuse you when you do something he takes offense at? Your blood will stain the floor just as surely as old Jitara's. That of your family's, as well. Are you willing to risk sacrificing your wife and children to that madman's insanity?"

Divarya Hara dropped his gaze, unwilling to look Gopala in the eyes. The older man continued to hold the floor as he looked around at the rest of the nobles. "If Arlexus can be roused to murder, in cold blood, just by hearing something that he didn't want to hear, how can we expect to live in peace? Or are you all content to live in fear, wondering if the next thing you say will result in your death? You've heard what he did to his own queen. If he can visit that kind of violence on his own wife, why would he bother to spare your wives, your families?"

"If it bothers you so much that I benefit from the judgment, Divarya Hara, then I abstain from the judgment vote," Ramara said quietly. "Let us do it, and quickly. Is there anyone here who finds Arlexus guilty of murder?"

Ramara counted as twenty hands raised in the air. When Gopala asked for votes of innocence, there were only four. Immediately Ramara filed those names away as ones to be watched in the future.

Gopala cleared his throat. "It is the overwhelming majority that Arlexus is guilty of murder. Under Andothorian law, the only possible penalties are exile and death. I will ask for a vote again. Who would put him to death?"

This vote was not as decisive, with hands being raised and lowered, and other hands that hesitated before finally being raised. Ramara waited until the verdicts were made and counted. Twelve. The vote for exile also yielded twelve.

Sighing, Ramara held up his hands. "I abstained from passing judgment on my cousin, to remove any hint of personal ambition from becoming an issue. However, as there is no majority at all in choosing a penalty for judgment, I will cast the deciding vote." He closed his eyes and prayed that this would not be a decision that he would regret. "I choose exile."

The reactions were swift and loud, but Ramara was surprised to hear relief was the overwhelming response. Even those who had voted for death had not really felt comfortable with condemning a sitting king, particularly a king of another land, to death. After some discussion, Ramara was charged with sending the king back to Onarias. The only extenuating circumstance was to hold him for three weeks. Holding him for the extra time might be all the punishment Arlexus truly received, and Ramara owed Caenno and Kyrie time to safely get away.

#### Chapter Twenty-Five

It was only after the ship docked in Vobria that Kyrie was able to see Baelund. Captain Jara released the sailors for an overnight leave only, with orders to be back on board to sail with the morning tide. With the ship deserted, particularly making sure Lousek was gone, Caenno carried Kyrie to Vari's cabin settling her carefully in a chair. He quietly gave them a few minutes to themselves.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lady," were the first words out of Baelund's mouth.

Kyrie blinked in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"I failed you, and I failed the lady Breka."

"Nonsense." It was his turn to be surprised when she snapped that word at him. "You did exactly what you were charged to do. Without you, I'm sure I wouldn't be alive today."

Baelund tried to speak before finding his voice. "But the lady Breka..."

"I grieve that she's gone, but I think if she hadn't died then, she would have soon. Arlexus would have killed her sooner or later." Kyrie sighed. "He wanted to possess me, to own me. She was in his way, was always in his way. As were you."

They sat in silence, broken only by the sounds of the ship and the creaking of the chair when Kyrie leaned over to take his hand. "I thank you, and I'm sorry you were caught in the path of that deranged man."

"You mean your husband," Baelund said, frowning at the odd description of Arlexus.

She was still shaking her head when Caenno and Vari stepped back into the room, having taken the silence as an indication that the air had been cleared. They settled on the cot, and as before, Caenno led off.

"There is much to be done when we reach Caer Anthis," he said without preamble. "I will be meeting with the nobles to try to remove Arlexus from power."

"You can do that?" Kyrie asked, eyes wide in shock.

"It hasn't been done before, but the nobles put a king on the throne, they can take a criminal off it." Caenno's simple statement left little room for doubt that he would do just that.

"Don't you need all the nobles to agree to that, though?" Baelund asked.

"No, a simple majority will do, particularly when we return Erialar to Evralond's control. A lot of Arlexus's new support came when he took the Erialar and the Rune Forest. Once those are gone..."

Vari shook his head. "Do you really think that all the nobles will go along with returning that much territory? I've spoken to a lot of the southern people, and they like having the extended borders, because that gives a sense of safety from the tribes in The Barrens that they didn't have before."

"No, but what about the tribes that he ran out of their homes in the Rune Forest?" Caenno returned. "Those people weren't bothering anyone and acted as a buffer between the Onarians and Arlexus went in and butchered the most of them in their sleep."

Baelund nodded in agreement as Vari sputtered in shock. "I've been there, talked to people. How did I not hear of that?" the Healer asked.

"Because most of them considered the forest clans to be the same level as the heathens in The Barrens," Baelund replied. "I fought down there, and yes, it is true that Arlexus slaughtered whole villages in the night. I always counted myself fortunate that I was never sent in to do that."

"So, do you really think you can just oust these new nobles from power?" Vari asked, still trying to process the previous information.

"Yes, I do. We will lose a few nobles on our side, too, the conservative nobles from Erialar who paid lip service to Arlexus, but once the New Blood is weeded out, the majority is still on our side." Caenno looked at Kyrie sadly. "And as much as I hate to ask it of you, I need you to testify as to what you remember of the attacks."

"You will get more than that," she said softly. "I will sing for them."

All three men immediately reacted, vociferously arguing why that would be a bad idea until she held up her hand for silence. "If I am truly the Speaker, as you believe," she said, staring straight at Caenno, "then I need to speak. Whatever truth comes out of my mouth, let that be what the nobles make their judgment on."

Effectively silenced, the room was quiet as they absorbed her words. "What if you sing in a language that they don't understand?" Baelund asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that everyone gets upset when I sing, because apparently my songs are the truth of what's happening at that moment." Kyrie shrugged. "I can only do what I'm called to do."

"I understand, my queen."

"No."

Caenno blinked. "No, what? You just said you'd do it, but now you're not?"

"No, I mean I am not your queen." She straightened as much as she could in the chair. "I am Kyrie Adassa, Anointed Speaker of the Ancient of Days, and I repent of any promises made to heathen gods. No man is my husband."

"Well, that covers one issue I needed to discuss." Caenno sighed and nodded. "As you wish, my lady."

She looked at all three men and shook her head. "Dispense with the titles. I'm Kyrie. I give you leave to call me such. I have no further claim to rank and title, and I'm better off without it."

When she received assurances from the men, she nodded to the noble. "Please, continue."

Caenno shrugged. "I'm not sure there's much more to say. Nothing else can be planned until we reach Caer Anthis." He glanced back at Kyrie. "Oh. One thing."

"Yes?"

"Where will you go?"

"You mean after the meeting with the nobles?" she asked.

"Yes. You can't stay in Onarias."

She smiled. "I think I will go home. At least briefly. I need to warn my father and my sister to prepare for war. Then?" A stiff shrug punctuated her thoughts. "Maybe Alar, maybe Linevriand. Maybe The Barrens. Who knows?"

"I will go with you." Baelund's words drew immediate disagreements from the two men, but Kyrie only nodded. "You charged me to protect the queen, and in spite of what all of you have said, I failed. But I will not fail again."

"I am no longer queen," she reminded him.

"But I swore to protect you. That doesn't end because you rejected your husband."

Caenno nodded. "You are truly a man of honor. I officially release you of all bonds to Onarias. You are now in the service of the Ancient of Days. May you successfully guard the Speaker on her travels."

Vari held up his hand. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Baelund, you won't be able to even lift a sword for many weeks yet. You barely escaped death. Let someone else take that duty until you are physically ready." He held up his hand to stall the guard's protests. "Your recovery has been miraculous so far, but if you push too hard now, you risk crippling yourself permanently. I'm sure the Ardeth would be willing to loan a couple of soldiers to guard Kyrie until you are fully recovered."

"Of course. Baelund, you need to listen to Healer Vari." Caenno hid a smile at the man's less than graceful acceptance of his limitations. Exchanging amused glances with Kyrie assured him that she would do her best to keep him resting.

The meeting broke up soon after, and Caenno carried Kyrie back to his cabin before the sailors began returning from their leave. After seeing her settled, he met once again with the captain before heading off into the city.

With the appearance of his business complete, Caenno returned to the ship only to discover Lousek lurking at his door. Frustrated and tired, the noble bellowed at him, scaring the sailor so much that he jumped back and banged his head on the opposite wall. Scrambling to get both his feet moving in the same direction, he dashed off and down into the hold toward the crew's quarters. Caenno allowed himself a laugh. If all things went well, it would no longer matter if he spied for Arlexus or not.

#### Chapter Twenty-Six

The remainder of the trip was restful, and even though they had lost a day in transit with their detour, the ship still made dock in respectable time. There were a couple Andothorian ships in harbor as well, but at this point, Caenno carried more weight than anyone else. As such, he escorted Kyrie off the ship, past the captain whose jaw dropped at the sight of her. However, they decided to keep Baelund's presence a secret for as long as possible. In spite of his protests, he was bundled up in the plant box again and hauled off to the Ardeth's house.

Kyrie moved gingerly. She had not healed completely, but she managed well enough for the short trip to the carriage that Caenno had waiting. There were eyes watching her, as she had become well-known during her brief stint here as Arlexus's wife, and except for her three compatriots, she still was their queen. When it became apparent that Arlexus was not with them, rumors began flying.

The excitement wore her out, and she remained in the Ardeth's house for the two days it took to assemble the necessary nobles. For the vote to take Arlexus from the throne, they would use all the nobles. When it came time to choose a new king, only the Old Blood or those who proved themselves loyal to Onarias would participate. Kyrie took that to mean that only those that voted for removal would be consulted.

Caenno called for the meeting to be in the palace, in Arlexus's reception room. He had the servants set up a circle of nine chairs, with an extra tucked away in the corner for Kyrie. He did not know how long she would stay, so better to be prepared.

Lord Meshu Pavi was the first to enter. He was one of Arlexus's new nobility that Caenno simply did not know well enough to gauge his reactions. On a few of the issues, he had sided with the younger men and the king, but he had been a voice of caution on other topics, so the Ardeth withheld his judgment for the moment.

Lords Xisi Khastri and Annar Shahri entered together, and this was nothing more than expected. They were joined at the hip, fanatical supporters of Arlexus that would absolutely vote against anything that harmed their prized king. The Caerphy Tane Hebrook joined the meeting next. Tane was a barrel of a man, an unbelievably tough soldier who had spent nearly all of his years fighting before becoming the Caerphy only five years ago. He was the most conservative of all the Old Blood, and was also the oldest noble.

Another pair of lords entered together, and Caenno blinked at the unusual pairing, although it was possible that their arrivals simply coincided. Darag Inan and Nosuth Myari were usually polar opposites in strategy meetings, even though both were newer additions to the Onarian nobility ranks. Nosuth tended to vote with the Old Blood, and Caenno knew that if the option was given to return Erialar to Evralond, he would be the first to support it. Darag was another like Meshu, and Caenno wouldn't try to guess his alignment.

The Glaene Wulfe Moorwood arrived alone, but Lord Bulan Qasri followed nearly on his heels. All the nobles but Caenno seemed surprised to see no one else but Caenno in the room.

"Where is King Arlexus?" Lord Khastri asked, anxiously looking around as if the king would appear from behind a door.

"Please, take a seat." Caenno waved to the chairs and took one himself, waiting until everyone had settled before answering the question. "He is still in Crynmarth."

"I heard that Queen Kyrie returned without him," Shahri said, casting a sly look toward the Ardeth. "And you escorted her off the ship unescorted."

"That will be dealt with in a moment." Caenno inhaled deeply before plunging in. "This meeting has been convened to discuss removing Arlexus from the throne of Onarias."

He sat silently amongst the roaring and questions thrown his way. Several nobles jumped up from their chairs and even advanced on him, demanding that he answer them, but he simply motioned them back to their seats. Eventually, when they realized that he was not going to answer them, they resumed their places and quieted enough for him to answer.

"I could recount the situation that brought me to even consider this eventuality, but instead, I have someone else who needs to speak to this group. Gentlemen, may I present Kyrie Adassa, Anointed Speaker of the Ancient."

There was another uproar as she stepped inside, but she had been briefed by Caenno and simply stood still until they had settled as before. Once the noise level dropped, she began humming. When silence fell at her vocalizations, she began putting her words to it.

Expressions of shock, of sorrow, nearly the whole spectrum of emotion crossed the faces of the nobles as she slowly walked around the group, stopping to sing to each one individually. No one dared move as she made her way to complete the circle. Some of the songs Caenno understood, and he heard secrets about his peers that he was not sure he would admit that he knew. Some of the songs, to the newer lords, he could not understand the tongue they heard. As the words changed from noble to noble, he came to realize that she was singing directly to them in a dialect that they would understand. When she stood behind him, she stopped singing and stood with her hands braced on the back of the chair.

"What sorcery is this?" Lord Shahri asked, his voice hoarse with tears. "How could she know this about me?"

"Are you familiar with the Anointed?" Caenno asked.

"I've heard of the Seer and the Healer, but... what is she?"

"I am the Speaker, the one who speaks the truth." She smiled sadly at them. "I will have to take your word on what I say. To me, it is nonsense, a childhood habit that I never really outgrew. To anyone else who hears it, it tells of whatever truth they need to hear."

Tane spoke up roughly. "Why did you stop at the Ardeth?"

"Two reasons. One, I've already sung his truth to him. He's the one who identified what I am. Two, the next time I sing to him, it will be for all of you to hear."

"You're just a girl," someone complained, and Caenno could not identify who spoke.

"Yes, I am. But that doesn't change the fact that I sang something to you that shook you, that proved beyond any doubt that I am what I claim." Kyrie looked from noble to noble, meeting those gazes that were brave enough to meet hers. "Do any of you deny this? Can you, truthfully?" she asked as a couple of the lords opened their mouths to protest.

As one, they all backed down from her direct questioning. She fell quiet so that Caenno could continue.

"I know that I was the focus of envy that I was chosen to accompany Arlexus to Crynmarth to visit his mother, Queen Dimitriadi. What you may not have heard is that the queen is dead, and Arlexus has been crowned king."

There were a few avaricious expressions as the men anticipated that the good fortune would spread to them, but Caenno noted the somber expressions of the men who understood what that meant for Arlexus's ambitions.

"Why would we even contemplate removing him from the throne of Onarias, then?" Shahri asked contemptuously.

Tane spoke up before Caenno could. "You have known the king for what, a few years? Have you not seen him for what he really is? He is a selfish child, has been from the time his father died. Dimitriadi did what she could when he was a babe, but once the priests took him, they gave him everything but the discipline he needed. And I'm not talking about physical discipline, although he needed some of that, too. I'm talking about mental discipline, learning to treat others with respect, knowing how to negotiate and be diplomatic instead of rushing in to take what he wants, all else be damned."

"He's king," Shahri returned. "Why should he have to learn any of this? It's his right as king."

"No, it's not," Caenno said. "I know you have been educated in the history of the Onarian throne, but I will remind you that the four original noble families created the throne to centralize the power. As such, we do reserve the right to remove him from the throne, and I believe, I know that the time is such to utilize that power."

"And replace him with whom?" Khastri asked. "Surely you won't just let the poor people of Onarias flounder while you train up one of Arlexus's sons to bear the weight of the rule."

"That is not our pressing problem, at this point."

The Glaene spoke for the first time. "What has he done that has pushed you to consider this?"

Caenno twisted around to peer at Kyrie. She dropped her head and began humming. The words flowed forth, and she began with one dialect, then switching to another. He watched the faces as most of them began losing color, once her language switched to a tongue he knew. The details of her attack, both of them, made him shudder as he relived watching Arlexus on top of her still body, seeing the blood trickle across white skin and staining the sheets beneath her. When her words ended, a chill permeated the room, drawing shudders from other men, men who were veterans of tribal warfare and military siege. None of them moved.

"Lies!" shouted Shahri. "I have no idea what she thinks she gains from this, but the king would never behave so basely."

"It's true," Caenno said, his cold words chipping away at the man's bluster. "I was one of the men who pulled Arlexus off of the queen while he violated her unconscious body."

Kyrie moaned at his description, and Caenno grimaced as he recalled that she had not actually remembered that part of the attack. Standing and wrapping a paternal arm around her shoulders, he looked at her, seeking her permission. She winced but nodded. Shrugging off the comforting arm, the Speaker stepped into the circle of chairs, pulling the top of her two piece dress up to show the scar, both fore and aft. Turning in a circle, she stared at anyone who could meet her eyes.

"Yes, as you can see, I lied to generate sympathy. Obviously, I'm just a foolish girl who needs to be the center of attention." Kyrie kept spinning slowly, not allowing any of the nobles to avoid her. "I had my best friend from childhood killed beside me. This is _after_ she had been impregnated then almost beaten to death by my husband. That is not hearsay, gentlemen. That is from Arlexus's own mouth."

As he could see her strength about to abandon her, Caenno stepped forward and guided her to his chair. "Can anyone here dispute that actions such as these are not those of a king, but a criminal?"

Shahri and Khastri began to protest the validity of her accusations, but were shouted down by the other nobles. When the noise finally subsided, the Ardeth stepped into the center of the ring of chairs. "Who now votes to remove Arlexus and the remainder of the house of Leoda family line?"

Five hands raised swiftly, with only a minimal hesitation from a sixth. When he asked for opposition, the two holdouts raised their hands. Caenno closed his eyes and hung his head, but said in a firm voice, "It is agreed. Arlexus of the house of Leoda is king no more." He raised his head and pointed to Shahri and Khastri. "You two are dismissed."

Their protests rang out, and it took calling the guards to have them removed. The remaining seven looked questioningly at Caenno. "So, who do you have in mind, since we've kicked out Arlexus and his sons?" the Glaene asked.

"That is why I wanted to discuss this with you that are left. We need to start fresh. Onarias needs someone who would be a strong leader immediately, with grown or nearly heirs ready to take over. I, myself, have no one in mind to step up, but that's why I wanted your input."

"What do we do if we know of someone that fits the description?"

"Report back to me. We will discuss each candidate and make a decision later. But not too much later," the Ardeth cautioned. Sighing, he raised his hand against the low buzz of conversation as the nobles began discussing men they knew. "I have two more items of business. One is that we need to also consider ceding the city of Erialar back to Evralond's control," and he put up both hands to still the excited chatter of Qasri and Myari. "And also control of the Rune Forest, although there is no principality to give control to directly."

"Ardeth, I personally would not be in favor of returning the Rune Forest territory," Pavi said. "I prefer being under the protection of the throne against the capriciousness of the tribal clans."

"We will take that into consideration, but all of us will come to some sort of consensus," Caenno assured him. "I have no desire to run roughshod over anyone in here."

"What's the other business?" the Caerphy asked.

"We need to prepare for war." When the men looked at him blankly, Caenno shook his head sadly. "While we have handled things in a diplomatic and civilized manner in removing Arlexus from the throne, I believe that he will come back here and try to raise an army."

"And he's popular enough with the people to convince many of them that we're power-mad tyrants who only want to crush them under our heels," Tane said tiredly. "I see your point. It wouldn't take much for him to align with those two fools who just left and tear this country apart."

Caenno nodded. "With the eventuality of such, and with an empty throne for the time being, I nominate Caerphy Tane Hebrook as an interim leader of this council."

Tane nodded. "And I nominate Ardeth Caenno Riffin."

The Ardeth blinked. "I wasn't..."

"Caenno, you're the one who's navigated us through this, brought these wrongs to our attention. Yes, Arlexus needed removed. No one here doubts that, as proved by the vote. But you've already proven to be the kind of leader we need."

Pavi spoke up. "Then why not just crown him king? If he suits as leader for the council, why not leading the whole kingdom?" There was a surprising amount of positive murmurs to that suggestion.

"I am not a king. I only wish to govern my family's land, no more. I have no desire to run the whole kingdom," Caenno said. "Besides, we need someone who has heirs ready to be trained to rule. My sons are too young."

"But wouldn't someone who has no overbearing ambitions like Arlexus be the kind of king we want?" Pavi argued.

"I refuse the crown," the Ardeth said. "There will be no more discussion of me as king."

A low chatter broke out, and it took a while for it to settle. Caenno spoke over the voices to demand a vote for council leader, since there did not seem to be any more nominations. The vote was six to one in the Ardeth's favor, with Caenno being the only vote for the Caerphy.

"Let us wind up any other business, then, and go make preparations for Arlexus's arrival."

The Glaene raised his hand to be recognized. "What do we do with all the wives? Especially the last four, since old Onarian law only allows a man to have at most three wives?"

"The last three," Kyrie said from her slumped position in Caenno's chair. "I have renounced him as my husband, as I am a child of the Ancient's, and have sought repentance for swearing before heathen gods."

Her pronouncement generated shock from most of the council. "You renounce him?" the Glaene asked.

"Yes. I am a child of the Ancient, and a child of Mithlaris. The Ancient forbids that we swear before other gods, and my home allows for a woman to renounce her husband, especially in cases of abuse." She gazed about at the nobles defiantly. "Can anyone dispute the evidence of abuse visited on me?"

"With me as an eyewitness and participant in stopping him? I hardly think so," Caenno said fiercely. "Besides, the Healer Vari was also witness to that, along with a contingent of the Jopha Ramara's personal guards."

The Glaene nodded at that. "Very well, the final three."

"That is something that we can deal with when the time comes."

There was more discussion about small items of business, along with planning of meetings in the near future to discuss the preparations of war. Within another hour, they adjourned, all of them full of talk and ideas and concerns of the coming days. When the room cleared out, Caenno walked over to wake Kyrie, who had been lulled to sleep by the talk.

"Are you done yet?" she asked with a yawn and looked around the empty room sleepily. "Oh, looks like you are."

"Shall I carry you back to the carriage, or would you like to stay in your suite for one last night?" he asked.

She shuddered. "I can't sleep in there without thinking of Breka. However, there are a few personal items I'd like to gather before we leave."

He nodded and lifted her to her feet, although she pushed away and tried to walk on her own. She ended up clinging to his arm for support by the time they crossed the palace to her chambers.

Kyrie had been right. A chill shot through her gut, bringing an almost physical sting to her healing wound. This room would never be home again, and once she stopped to think about it, had never really been home. She sorted through her jewelry, dropping the elaborate pieces that had been presented to her as queen carelessly on the table while picking out her own simple treasures, gifts from friends and family. Tucking them into a silk bag laying nearby, she moved on to include small items, her hairbrush, a few hair clips, and then limped over to the wardrobe.

Most of the clothes she had brought with her were nowhere near suitable for the rough life she anticipated. She shrugged and left them. The shoes were too delicate and were discarded as well. The swimming costume brought a smile to her face, and for no reason other than that, she folded it and added it to her stash.

The only other thing she took were Breka's treasures hidden in the queen's room. Those she would return to her mother that she had left behind in the Citadel. With an effort that cost her dearly, Kyrie spun on her heel and stalked regally from the room, slamming the door behind her.

#### Chapter Twenty-Seven

Their arrival at Caenno's city house was greeted with the news that Neiren, the Seer, was waiting in his study. Kyrie grimaced at the news, and Caenno smiled and directed his servants to take the Speaker to her room to rest. With a weary wave, she let the man escort her to her room, although he nearly carried her there.

The Ardeth sighed and entered his personal retreat to see Neiren perusing his precious collection of books. "It's been several months since you've been here," Caenno said. "I hope you were made comfortable."

"Your hospitality never ceases to impress, Ardeth," the Seer said. "May I inquire as to the Speaker's health?"

"She is recovering," Caenno said with a sigh. "Slower this time than originally, but she is recovering."

Neiren frowned. "She was wounded twice?"

"Which one did you see?"

"The attack in the coach. She stood her ground and stabbed the man."

Caenno nodded. "That's what I'd guessed, since she was the only one with a dagger and his wounds looked too delicate to be sword slashes."

"So what happened to her after that?"

"Arlexus."

The utter disgust and revulsion in his voice told the Seer what he needed to know. "Did he hurt her physically?"

"Tore all her stitches. Violated her. Bragged about her lady-in-waiting and her guard being killed." Caenno was sick of repeating the words, just as he was sick of reliving the vision of the brutality in his dreams.

"Situations like that are never easy to live through, no matter what part you play," Neiren said softly. "I wish to speak with the queen, if that's possible."

"She's no longer queen," the Ardeth said with a smile. "She renounced him."

Neiren laughed heartily. "The girl did grow a backbone. I'd hoped she would." He shrugged. "It's not a well-known law outside of Mithlaris, but I'm not surprised that she used it. As her father's daughter, she has every right to. Although I doubt Edol will be happy with her because of it."

"Yeah, I know a bit about the copper mine negotiations. And Arlexus's ambitions to take them by force."

"Oh, I suspected there was more to it than just Kyrie's peculiar birth circumstance and some obscure alignment of the moons," the Seer said. "I know that the two will meet again, but as usual, I see nothing of practical use in the knowledge."

The noble leaned back in his chair, propping his elbow on the arm and supporting his chin in an indolent pose. "May I ask you a question?"

"By all means. I may not be able to answer it, but I'll do what I can."

"Kyrie's child."

The Seer cocked an eyebrow. "That's not much of a question."

"Well, the pantheon priests swear that her son will fulfill whatever twisted ambitions that Arlexus harbors, and yet, you supported that with your own prophecy."

"No, I didn't." At Caenno's incredulous look, Neiren laughed. "I can see where it might have sounded that way, but what I truly said was that Kyrie's child would play a part in Arlexus's future. That's all. That petulant, selfish man-child heard what he wanted to hear."

"Oh. I see. So, in essence, whenever Kyrie has a baby, that child will have a direct role in what happens to Arlexus, not that her son will lift him to the heights that he'd dreamed of."

"Exactly." Neiren sighed and looked longingly at the wine decanter sitting on the desk between them. "I've noticed during my years as Seer that telling people the truth matters little, as long as they can see what they want to see in the vision." He grinned his thanks when Caenno poured him a glass. Sipping it, he grunted out a pleasurable sigh. "Arlexus is no different. His pet priests had already built him up with the information he'd craved, so anything I said would have either been discounted entirely or twisted to suit his agenda. You must forgive me for taking my pleasures where I can. I saw what I saw. Kyrie's child _will_ play an important part in the future of all Nionosea."

Caenno had nearly emptied his own wineglass when the Seer's wording caught his attention. "You keep saying Kyrie's child, not Arlexus's child."

"Hmm, I did say that, didn't I?"

"Well?" the noble prodded.

Heaving a great sigh and settling his hands on his expanding middle, Neiren grimaced and huffed out a breath in exasperation. "Here is where my own Anointing is frustrating. In no vision have I seen who the father is. The child is with the Speaker. I see different men interacting in her life, including you, not that I suspect that you would ever betray your lovely Salia like that. But I see no man who resembles the child. Or rather, the child resembles no one I know."

"Well, I suppose life will play out what it will." Caenno frowned out the window in the direction of the palace. "I suppose you're aware of the vote today?"

"I've seen Arlexus stripped of power. He will target you."

"Obviously. I'm already making plans to move Salia and the children to a safer location," Caenno said. "Did you see that the nobles tried to crown me king today?"

The Seer choked in surprise. "No, by the Ancient, I did not! What happened with that?"

"I refused and told them to find someone else. I used the excuse that my boys aren't old enough to be trained up as heirs yet, but there were two real reasons that I refused. One was that whoever wears Arlexus's crown will become the primary target for his vengeance. Two, I will not expose my family to the traitorous, backbiting cesspit that passes for a royal court." Caenno sneered into his wine. "I saw what passed for a family environment for his own children, and there's no way I would subject my loved ones to anything even resembling that."

"The royal court is what you make of it, Caenno. Tolerating gossiping servants instead of replacing them breeds an environment of scandal that permeates the whole court. But I understand your desire to not make your family any more of a target than necessary." Neiren closed his eyes, trying to shut out a painful sight. "Too many good people will lose their lives in the coming years."

A heavy silence hung between them before the Ardeth finally spoke. "I can't imagine the horror you see, but I know from the horror I have already seen that this world will be torn apart if we can't stop Arlexus in time."

"I see light at the end of this," Neiren offered, knowing it was not much but it was the only hope he could give.

"I'll hold you to that." Caenno caught the Seer's gaze and held it. "I'll let you see Kyrie after she's had a chance to rest. She overexerted herself, and I don't want her injury impeded any further. But I will make sure that you're the first one she speaks with. Will that suffice?"

"Absolutely. Under no circumstances do I want that girl to suffer any more than necessary," Neiren said, as open with his words and expressions as possible.

"Good."

"Well, if you have no further questions, I'll take my leave and return when you send word," the Seer said. "I appreciate you sharing your time. And your wine."

They shared a laugh and the noble escorted the Seer out himself, waving off his servant who stepped forward. Caenno returned to his study, where he began putting together letters to his own commanders, citing supply line concerns, arming his men plus that many again, and holding the main roads against possible local hostile forces. By nightfall, he had information packets for all his strongholds through his province where he had his men stationed.

The Seer headed straight to the palace. With the uproar caused by the earlier deposing of Arlexus, the servants vacillated between gathering in groups and wailing at their plights and scurrying around trying to make sure things were in order for whoever occupied the palace next.

The gardens, even with the cacophony of birds and bugs, was still an oasis of tranquility comparatively. He slipped through the perfectly manicured hedgerows to the back, where the servants quarters were. Arelan's door was closed, and Neiren knocked softly.

The gardener let him in quickly, making room on his bed for the Seer to sit. "I wasn't expecting you back in the city yet, Seer."

"I was prompted by Kyrie's sudden arrival."

Arelan looked up, startled. "The queen is back?"

"Queen no longer."

"Oh, that would make sense." A genuine smile crossed his face. "I never once imagined that the nobles would have the... wherewithal... to remove that brat from the throne."

Neiren stared at him soberly. "Plans have changed, my boy. There is no reason to take her to The Barrens now. She has somewhere else to be."

"What?" Arelan asked, shaking his head in bewilderment. "That's not what we set up. We _planned_ this for more than a year. You even participated!"

"And I told you at the time that not everything I see is set in stone. I certainly didn't foresee Arlexus being taken off the throne." He sighed and tried to make Arelan see his point. "That one huge event changes so much. War is coming."

"War _came._ It's already taken my people, Seer."

"You don't truly understand war, my boy. You are so young."

"I understand it just fine! I understand death, and hunger, and having to live in cold, dark caves instead of warm houses. I understand it all."

Neiren shook his head, looking at the boy with sympathy. "You've seen skirmishes. You've seen isolated battles. You've never seen large-scale warfare. Death and destruction and blood and screams and filth and disease. Miles of bodies and stench, hearing screams of survivors buried under the bodies of their comrades. Blood turning the earth to mud." He stared Arelan down until the younger man broke away from his gaze and stared at the floor. "I'm not demeaning you, boy. I'm trying to show you that bigger things are afoot. This is no longer about localized displacements, but war across all the civilized kingdoms.

"Besides, with the king displaced, kidnapping his wife will no longer accomplish what you want it to. She's no longer a queen."

A rush of anger flushed through the young man at having his plans stymied. "So what am I supposed to do now? Keep plodding away trimming trees and watering flowers until the next king comes in and decides he wants the caves we're scraping a living out of?"

The Seer winced at the bitterness dripping from Arelan's words. "I wish I could see everything and just tell how to play events out to make sure that the best possible outcome for everyone. But you know as well as I do that the Ancient gave us all the free will to do as we chose, but the result of that gift is that we must bear the consequences of those choices. Don't be hasty and do something that you will regret."

Arelan sank down, defeated. "Then what am I to do? I have no plan after this other than to go home bearing the queen."

Neiren patted his knee. "Just stay in place, my boy, and I will get you something. Just be patient."

"So where is the queen – er, the lady and her friend staying?"

Eyes wide as he realized that Arelan had not heard all the news, the Seer spoke slowly and softly. "Kyrie and her friend were attacked in Crynmarth. Her lady is dead."

"What?"

"Please don't take it upon yourself to act without my word. Kyrie is recovering from a wound of her own. We cannot risk her, as she is even more important now." Seeing the flicker of interest in his face, the Seer shook his head. "Do not. You will regret trying to manipulate her. Besides, I haven't even spoken to her yet."

"Fine. I will be patient." He glared at the old man. "But do not leave without word of some kind. I do not want to be left dangling for months again like before."

"Fair enough." Neiren stood and stretched. "I must find a place to stay for the night. I doubt Kyrie will be up to seeing me before morning."

The Seer took his leave, and Arelan fell back on his cot to consider what had just conspired. The news of Breka's death shook him more than was comfortable. Remembering the day he sneaked them out to go swimming, he saw how close the two girls had been. He imagined that the queen – lady felt much at Breka's loss as he had when his brother died.

Arelan sat upright. He could not afford to treat them as friends, even though he sympathized greatly and had succeeded in getting close to them. His people were counting on him. Seer or no Seer, there were things he could do to prepare, and he set about making his own plans.

#### Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kyrie woke the next morning to two surprises. The first was the news that the Seer was waiting in Caenno's study to speak with her, and the second was the arrival of her things from Crynmarth. They had been delivered late the evening before, and she heaved a sigh at not having to go back to the palace to sort through them.

Her side was healing, although she was stiff and sore from all her exertions yesterday at the council. She dressed and plaited her hair in a simple rope to hang down her back. As she left her room, she realized that she had been too drained to notice where she had been put, and since this was her first time in Caenno's house, she stood and looked around in confusion. Choosing a direction down the corridor and hoping that it was correct, she found stairs leading down and vaguely remembered climbing the night before, so she clung to the railing and descended. The main hall where she found herself looked a little more familiar, but there were several closed doors and she had no idea which one was the correct one and she had no wish to disturb her host. Seeing a servant, she asked to be shown to the Seer and was relieved when he led her to the proper room.

Thanking him, she entered to see the familiar older man sitting at the desk, picking at the tray in front of him. "Good morning, my dear. I was hoping that you'd join me before I finished this off myself." He laughed and patted his belly. "I don't really need to be adding to this. The wife would scold even more than usual."

She smiled at the greeting and the comment. "You have a wife?"

"Indeed I do. She travels with me from time to time. Lovely woman. Strong, too. It takes one of incredible fortitude to survive a relationship with an Anointed, which might be why so few of us marry."

"What's her name?" Kyrie asked as she took a seat and helped herself to the heavily laden tray.

"Derbra. Been married to her for, oh, how long has it been now? Twenty-three years? Yes, twenty-three." He smiled indulgently as he took pleasure in the memories. "I was nearing forty-five when I first met her. Saw her in the marketplace in the Jade Cairn. She sold these baubles, useless little bits, but somehow the cheeky woman managed to part me with my silver. Not like being the Seer pays much, and I certainly hadn't intended to squander it there. However, when she sold it, she told me that I'd be back.

"Never had that happen, not to me. I'd already been traveling as the Seer for more than ten years, and to have this young woman inform me that I'd be back to her was a bit startling, to be sure." Neiren laughed again, winking at his amused guest. "She was right. Not only did I see her in my own future, but I saw her as my wife. Now, confirmed bachelor that I was, naturally I fought it for almost two years. But in the end, she won me over, and we wed in some little village near Madaca. Beautiful place."

"Where is she right now?" Kyrie asked.

"We have a home in the Jade Cairn. It's the one her parents left her when they died. We don't stay there much, but it's a nice little place to retreat to when we need a rest. This trip wasn't exactly expected, so she volunteered to stay behind to let me travel as quickly as possible."

"I'd like to meet her sometime," she said as she buttered her bread. Feeling much more awake with a solid meal in her, she leaned back in her chair to sip her juice and nibble on the roll. "I suspect that you have a reason to talk to me that doesn't include regaling me with amusing stories of your wife."

"Very astute of you, my dear." Neiren looked at her until she had to fight not to squirm under his stare. "I spoke with you some months ago. Your status was quite different than it is now."

"I am well rid of that particular burden," she said with a smile. "And there are other responsibilities that now need dealt with."

"I see that you are reconciled with your Anointing," he said, the lightheartedness of moments earlier dissipated like a mist. "I need to hear you speak, if you would oblige me."

Startled by the sudden request, she stammered, "I don't speak."

"But I was told that you assumed the role of the Speaker," he said, eyes wide and shaking his head in confusion.

"Oh, I did," she rushed to assure him. "I just sing. I don't speak. In fact," and she dropped her gaze in embarrassment, "I didn't even know what I was doing. I thought it was just my childhood habit of making up nonsense songs. It wasn't until I came to Caer Anthis and was exposed to people who spoke different languages that it was pointed out to me what I was doing. I certainly didn't know."

Neiren blinked as he considered that. "I have never heard of that. In that case, my dear, would you sing for me?"

She closed her eyes and began humming. Once she had a tune going, she began to sing. Neiren closed his eyes and listened. When the song wound down, he sighed deeply and opened his eyes to meet Kyrie's questioning face.

"Well, that was an experience," he said.

"What did I sing about?"

"There was quite a bit of information in that song, and most of it cannot be shared at this point in time, but I will admit that you are truly the Speaker, and that you must be cautious when singing. Not everyone will take your truth kindly."

She laughed dryly. "That has been brought home to me. I consider myself fortunate that I have not gone through more than this."

He cleared his throat. "So, my dear, what do you plan to do now?"

Kyrie shifted in her chair. "I had planned to go straight to Mithlaris and try to prepare for Arlexus's imminent attack, but since he has been robbed of most of his power base and will have to fight to regain it, which sadly I do not doubt that he will do, it doesn't seem quite as crucial. However, knowing my father as I do, I should still spend as much time there as I can." She shrugged ruefully. "He is rather stubborn about certain things."

"I see."

"Also, I should be the one to bring news of my renouncing of the king, and the fact that his former son-in-law is no longer king." Grinning in anticipation, she continued. "He refused to listen to any argument against the marriage. I realize now that the Ancient had plans for me that needed me to leave the safety of the Citadel, but that doesn't free Edol from the consequences of selling me to that violent man." Any amusement vanished with her words of blame.

"Be cautious, child, and grant him forgiveness whether you think he deserves it or not," the old man cautioned. "Bitterness is a heavy burden to carry, and something that the Anointed don't have the liberty to embrace."

Her head fell forward. "I hear the wisdom in your words, but I struggle to heed them." Looking up with eyes glassy with tears, she smiled. "I will use the long journey back to Mithlaris to practice."

"Then the Ancient's blessings on your trip. I look forward to our next meeting," he smiled.

"Farewell." Kyrie left and retraced her steps to her room. The need to move on and go back to her home gave her energy, and she asked a servant to see Caenno. The noble showed her to where all her cargo stored had been stored.

Sorting through the goods tore at her, as memories of that day's events reconnected in her mind as she saw the boots she had ordered, the woolens that she had bought. Hearing Breka's arguments brought a smile, and she wiped away tears more than she cared to admit. However, the wares she had chosen that day neared to prophetic as she took in the warm woolens that would be appropriate for a trip home.

She leaned back to contemplate the items. Even though Arlexus had technically paid for these goods, Kyrie had no qualms about keeping these, unlike what remained in the palace. These were a blood payment for his actions. She included Breka's purchases in with her claims. The knickknacks, the jewelry that had been purchased for no reason other than it was Arlexus's money paying, the gifts for friends and family back home – she kept nearly all of it. There was a silent prayer of thanks to the Ancient that he had seen fit to guide her, even when she could not know why at the time.

Quickly assessing what she intended to keep, she separated the goods into three piles. She placed the cloth goods into one stack, reminding herself to ask Caenno about the use of a good seamstress. The jewels she put in another pile. These would serve as currency to pay for her travels and various expenses. The last pile were things that would be of no use in her new life.

Her work ending coincided with an invitation from Caenno to join him for lunch. She rose from the floor stiffly and stretched. With a nod and a request to wait, she straightened her appearance and followed the servant down to the dining room. Caenno smiled and waved her in, gesturing at the seat to his right. The room held a table that could seat twenty formally, but the meal that day had a very informal setting for two at one end.

"So, how are you today?"

"Better," Kyrie said honestly. "It still hurts, but Vari said that was to be expected." She eased into her chair with a sigh. "But I will be ready to leave for Mithlaris whenever I can arrange for a ship."

Caenno nodded. "You will be missed," he said softly.

She smiled shyly. "You have been a huge help to me. I will never be able to repay you." When the noble blustered uncomfortably, she took pity on him and changed the subject. "Would you know of a seamstress that might be able to sail to Mithlaris with me?"

"I don't know of one right now, but I can find one for you." As the food was served, they let the conversation lag as they ate in an easy silence. Once they had taken the edge off their hunger, Caenno picked up. "I spoke with Captain Jara. He is the one who took us to Crynmarth." When she nodded her recognition, he continued. "Since he looks to the throne of Onarias, and the throne is empty at this moment, he is quite open to working for the council. As such, the council will provide you with passage home."

"I – I - Thank you. Should I pay for Baelund's passage?"

"Absolutely not. He is covered as well." Caenno smiled. "In fact, as long as you don't ask him to sail into the northern seas, Captain Jara said he is willing to allow you on board bound to any port you need."

Kyrie, unable to express her gratitude at that offer, turned the conversation to other topics. They enjoyed their repast, casually discussing how many men Caenno could spare to accompany her home. She argued that there would be minimal risk on the trip, as surely Baelund would be healed by the time they got there. The enforced idleness on the voyage would be beneficial to making sure the man did not overdo his recovery. They shared a laugh about the truth of that.

Caenno would put a request out to see if he could generate two or three volunteers to go, on the condition that they would return with Jara. The captain had assured the noble that he would be ready to sail within two days. Once that was settled, they spoke of Caenno's coming plans for Arlexus's arrival. She shared her concerns, and they discussed several different contingencies to reduce or eliminate the innocent casualties.

Once they no longer had a reason to linger over lunch, Kyrie excused herself. She had one more stop to make before she began her final packing. Having been given directions to his room, she knocked softly on Baelund's door.

"Come."

She opened the door and saw him propped up in bed, picking at the tray that was balanced on his lap. "You're doing better," she said by way of greeting. When he looked up in surprise at her visit, she smiled at him. "You look better."

"My lady," he stammered, finally getting past his surprise.

"None of that. My name is Kyrie, and I would be pleased if you would use it. I'm queen no longer."

"Of course," he said and motioned for her to have a seat.

She perched on the bed and winced as the angle pulled on her wound more than was comfortable. Standing, she found a light chair and cautiously bumped it over beside the bed. When he acted like he would get up to help her, she pinned him with a stern glare that kept him in place.

Dropping into the seat a little ungracefully, she heaved a sigh and slumped back. "Just a little out of shape after my situation," she said, catching her breath. "Now, how are you feeling?"

"Bored," he said with a frown. "I have nothing to do but lie here and wait for visits from healers."

Kyrie opened her mouth to ask her question but hesitated and changed her words. "Do you read?"

He smiled and shrugged. "What purpose would it serve a bowyer? A fighting man?"

"I can think of a few reasons," she said. "Would you like me to teach you? We will have plenty of time on board ship. That is, if you're still going with me."

"I have not been released from my service to you," he said, meeting her gaze squarely.

"Would you like me to release you?"

Baelund smiled again, lighting up his dark blue eyes. "It wouldn't matter. I've sworn to myself to guard you."

"And what if Ardeth Caenno decided to call you back?" she teased. "I'm only one person. Surely you could do more good with him."

"You are an Anointed. You will affect more people than I ever could." His smile was still in place, but his face had darkened.

Kyrie laughed softly. "I was only teasing, Baelund." She watched until he lost the heaviness in his expression. "Besides, since you seem determined to remain with me, knowing how to read might be a useful skill to have."

"I admit, I can see your point, my la- um, Kyrie," he said, her name awkward on his tongue.

"So, shall I make plans for the two of us to sail?" she asked with a smile.

"Of course. Has the Ardeth said who will be going with us?"

"He hopes to have the final choices made by tomorrow evening, as we need to sail the following day. Arlexus can't be far behind us." Her humor faded. "We need to be away from Caer Anthis before he arrives, or things will get complicated quickly. And dangerous for both of us."

With her question answered, Kyrie rose and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek, startling the man. "I owe you my life," she said. "I will repay that debt."

"No debt is owed, my lady."

She took her leave to finish packing.

#### Epilogue

Two days later, Captain Jara stood in the predawn darkness, supervising the last cargo to be loaded and turned to Caenno, who was also watching the loading. Kyrie and Baelund had already been shown to their cabin.

"Is Lousek aboard for this trip?" Caenno asked.

"No. I switched out some of the usual crew with men used to the longer hauls. He should still be of use should we need him to spy again," Jara said. "Do you expect trouble from Arlexus?"

"Absolutely. He's not the sort of man who will go away quietly and sulk. He will spread his displeasure everywhere he can." Caenno shrugged. "We're preparing the only way we know how."

"Good." The captain directed the last of Kyrie's trunks to her cabin. "It will be different, having her here without you. Are you certain she's the Speaker?"

"She's proved it too many times, and to too many people."

Jara grimaced. "Not so sure I want to spend time with someone who spend all her time spilling the truth. Truth can be hard to swallow _all_ the time."

Caenno laughed. "It's not like that. She's perfectly normal when she's talking to you. It's only when she sings that she reveals the difficult details."

"So, she's more of a Singer than a Speaker?" The captain asked with a smile.

"Something like that." The noble stared off to the west, where the deposed king was probably readying to return. "Be careful, Jara."

"I will. My thanks for all your assistance in getting provisioned so quickly."

As the last of the cargo was secured and the sun began lightening the eastern horizon, the captain bid farewell to Caenno and saw him back to the dock. With a wave, the lines were cast free and Jara shouted the orders to be under way.

Caenno stood and watched the ship until it vanished in the thinning morning mist. When no trace of the ship remained, he turned and went home.

#### About the Author

LeeAnn Flowers is a gypsy at heart, having spent many years moving about the United States. Her desire to write blossomed about the age of 30, and she has written several books. _Songs of Revelation_ is her first published work, and the sequel is currently in development.

