2. Kasten
Despite being confronted with the endless backlog of paperwork from my absence, it was good to be home. In Kasomere, I didn’t need to keep half an eye out for somebody trying to kill me.
I entered the drinking room next to my office as Callum was closing the heavy velvet curtains, shutting out the darkness pressing against the castle’s windowpanes.
He frowned at me as he turned up the kryalcomy lights. “What’s wrong?”
I raised an eyebrow in reply and closed the door. Why did he think anything was wrong? Callum might be my closest friend, but it unnerved me when he appeared to read my mind.
Callum folded his arms and cocked his head as he watched me walk to my armchair as if analyzing a horse for lameness. “You’ve been scowling all day. Is it your wound? Want me to have a look?”
Shrugging off my jacket, I sat down, then leaned to stretch out my back. I failed to hide a wince as the movement tugged on my stitches, which was all the permission Callum needed.
He motioned for me to sit forward and handed me a goblet of strong wine—the type I hated, but was good at dulling pain. I forced down a gulp, scowling as the bitter liquid coated my tongue. He rolled up the back of my cream shirt and hissed in sympathy.
I sighed at his melodrama. “Don’t tell me it’s infected.” I took another long drag of the revolting wine before discarding my cup onto the table. The wound hurt enough to be infected, but I’d injured my back so many times, it was hard to tell which pain was new.
“Eh, just a bit raw. One of the scabs opened up. Though, kingdoms, Kasten, the arrow must have dug in deep. How are you alive? How did that not hit your spleen or something else important?”
I pulled my shirt back down, grimacing at the new blood stain. If it wasn’t infected, there was no point in him gawking at it. “Bad luck?”
Callum sighed and dragged his usual worn chair diagonally opposite mine so he could rest an elbow on the scarred table. He pushed back his unruly golden curls and unsheathed his knife. He started to flip it into the air and catch it one handed over and over. His red coat was unbuttoned, as was half of his rumpled silk shirt. “You know, Kasten, there’s something that might make your father want you slightly less dead.”
Anger pooled in my belly. I wanted a distraction. I hadn’t come here tonight to talk about him. “Don’t call him that. He’s the king, not my father.”
My friend sighed, waving a hand. “Fine, fine, whatever. Refusing to call him your father doesn’t make you any less of a threat to him, you realize, but…” He drew out the word. “Apart from trying to kill you for your parentage, which we can’t do much about, he is also next in line for Kasomere.”
I frowned. “The king will try and kill me, no matter what I do. This time, he almost succeeded. He completely withdrew his forces when my battalion and I were in the thick of the fighting.” I shook my head in disgust. “I doubt I’ll live through another campaign.” I emptied my wine goblet.
Callum glared at me. “Just listen for once, will you?”
I threw him an acidic look which he didn’t seem to notice.
“If you had died from that arrow, your lands and wealth would have gone to the king. Every bit of plunder you’ve won, every inch of this sanctuary you’ve built, all of it would be in the hands of the man you hate.” He continued flipping his dagger, which was making my eye twitch.
I sighed and leaned forward, snatching the spinning blade from the air. “As we’ve already established, he’s going to have me killed regardless.”
Callum shrugged, pouting as he eyed his confiscated blade. “But you might as well not let him take anything else.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. “What if there was somebody else to inherit Kasomere?”
“Are you suggesting I get married? Me?” I snorted, genuine humor at the idea suppressing my anger at the king for a moment.
Callum crossed his arms, appearing exasperated. “Of course, you should. And have an heir, if possible. We might have a full six months before the next campaign.”
“No.” I stabbed his dagger point down into the table, my humor vanishing as quickly as it had arrived. “I couldn’t do that to somebody. The poor woman would be terrified of me, thanks to all the rumors. Not to mention widowed soon after. I couldn’t drag someone into this mess, let alone a child. And anyway, no pleasant, respectable women ever speak to me. They fear I will taint their precious reputations.”
Callum shrugged again and leaned his chair back on two legs against the wall. “Fine then. Let the king gain control of Kasomere. Think of how he’ll govern the city and surrounding lands. He’ll carve it up and give it away. Wages will be cut, past lives will come back to haunt people. And however careful we are, think of all the things he might discover that you want to keep hidden.” He shook his head and raised his wine glass. “But of course, you don’t care about any of that. You just…”
I growled and rocked his chair forward with my ankle to cut him off. He made a face as he almost spilt his wine.
“Fine, fine, I get your point.” I pinched my forehead.
He blinked as if he hadn’t expected to be so persuasive. “So…you’ll choose one? You’ll have to be fast before they start planning another campaign.”
I took my cup and swirled the dregs of my wine, wanting to deny the name that immediately came to mind. After counting three heartbeats and putting my cup down, I muttered, “Lady Sophie Cuthbert. Though I’ve heard she’s gone back to using Halfield.”
Callum’s mouth dropped open. “You’re joking, right? She’s not exactly suitable…”
I gave him a dark look from the corner of my eye and hid the jolt of anger and annoyance. Callum choked on a strangled laugh.
He never knew when to shut up. It was a miracle I hadn’t killed him within the last four years. Maybe today would be the day.
Finally, Callum realized I was serious. He stared at me as if I were mad. Maybe I was. He held up his hand, ticking off his fingers one by one. “For starters, her husband died, what, six days ago? That’s hardly a decent waiting time. Second, most people think she killed him…”
I chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t blame her for that.”
Callum ignored the interruption. “And the rest think her father murdered him so he could grab his lands. Third, her father is a snake who cheats and steals his way to wealth. Did you hear he took hold of all of her late husband’s property and is already auctioning some of it off? Fourth, she is below your station, with barely a drop of proper noble blood. Fifth, she was married for over a year to her late husband, and she didn’t give him an heir. Something that everyone knows Sir Frederick Cuthbert would have been very keen to produce.” He wiggled all five fingers at me. “Should I continue?”
I just raised my eyebrows at my friend and cocked my head. I had known all of that.
He blew out a long breath. “You’re actually serious?” He shook his head as if dazed. “You’ve never shown any interest in her before. She’s pretty, and has good etiquette, but have you ever even spoken to her? She might have one of those high-pitched whining voices. She seems too boring to have actually murdered anyone. You know, on the quiet side, jumpy, no backbone.”
He was starting to really annoy me. “Callum…” I growled.
“It’s not as if any other men are flocking to marry her…”
“Callum…” My hands clenched on the table.
“I… Yes?” He finally shut his confounded mouth.
“Do you want me to marry, or not?”
“Well, yes, but…”
“Then send the proposal to Sophie Halfield.” I reached over and drained the rest of Callum’s far tastier wine before I could overthink this. Served him right for doing so much talking when he could have been drinking. “Send it with flowers or whatever is appropriate.”
Callum opened and closed his mouth, blinked, then nodded. He was looking at me as if he didn’t recognize me. I left the room before he could regain his voice.
I winced and slowed as I climbed the stairs to my rooms, refusing to give in and call the physician for stronger tonics. My mind returned to Sophie Halfield. I had caused so much pain, so much darkness. When I died, nothing good would be said about my pitifully short life other than how I’d won lands for the king. And I suspected my name would soon be blotted out from the campaigns. But maybe, before I died, I could do one good thing. Maybe, for once in my miserable existence, I could improve somebody’s life permanently.
It took onlytwo days for Sir Halfield’s reply to arrive. The man must have responded the moment he opened my request. I’d expected to wait at least a week and have more time to process what I was about to do.
I retreated to the drinking room, the one room of the castle where nobody except Callum ever disturbed me, and reread the letter that had been personally delivered by a servant. I sighed and pressed a finger against my lips, irritated at my inability to think clearly about this. I always prided myself on being logical and efficient. But when it came to women, I might as well be a fish in a pine tree.
I used the letter opener to pry splinters of wood from the already ruined table and reminded myself why I had chosen Sophie Halfield. I’d first noticed her at a party at Trembok Castle in the north of Fenland five months ago, one of those tedious events I’d been forced to attend so everyone could have the pleasure of listening to the king get all the credit for winning the most recent campaign against Kollenstar. I’d needed to escape the dreariness of countless people coming to me with the expected niceties on their lips and hatred in their eyes and found myself on the tower watching the shadow-soaked gardens.
The night had been warm, but the grounds of the castle were deserted, as the king required everyone’s enraptured attention inside. A woman, wearing a dress that made her seem as pale as a wraith, ran out onto the lawn, her long hair bleached by the moonlight. I’d expected her to be followed—maybe by a man for a secret moonlight walk or a stolen kiss—but she remained alone, despite being dressed as a respectable lady.
She took quick, excited breaths, her head darting back as if she feared pursuit. I leaned on the battlements, swirling my wine and frowning, glad for a vaguely interesting distraction. What was she running from? The king’s speech? I snorted into my goblet at my own joke. Wouldn’t blame her.
I watched as the woman decided she wasn’t being followed and shrugged off her silk shawl, hanging it over a bench. Her shoulders were slim, and her build was fragile. She only seemed about twenty. She hurried over to the… Flowers? She was running out of the castle to look at flowers? I clearly understood women less than I thought.
She knelt before a flower bed and leaned forward, holding a notepad and pencil she must have hidden somewhere in that tight fitting dress. She picked up twigs and leaves and was writing something down. Even from up here, I could see her shoulders relax and a smile lighten her face. She stood and moved down the flower bed, and I didn’t miss her sudden pure joy and excitement as she spotted something growing behind a bench. She scurried over and squeezed herself between soil and slats of wood, and for some reason my heart clenched. She acted as if she didn’t have a care in the world, and that brought me pain and hope in a strange, heady mix. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had an interest that could bring this measure of unadulterated joy and excitement. The only thing I was good at was killing things. A small smirk pulled on one side of my mouth. How little she probably knew of the world. She reminded me of a child.
But I had to admit her smile was beautiful.
“Lady Cuthbert?” The shrill cry came from across the lawn.
I leaned farther over the battlements and relaxed slightly when I saw the maid hurrying over. Just a maid. I looked back to the girl, expecting her to maybe huff or roll her eyes at being discovered outside and forced by her servant to return to the party.
Instead, she had frozen. The lightness and joy vanished like a candle being snuffed out. As the grey-haired maid approached, the lady stood rigidly. Her back became straight and formal, and her face vacant.
The girl of a moment ago had completely disappeared, and the loss created a strange ache in my chest.
My mouth opened in shock as the maid took her by the wrist and yanked her around the bench, tossing her silk shawl back over her shoulders. In the silence of the windless night, the maid’s voice carried well. “What do you think you’re doing? Sir Cuthbert is bound to hear about this, and what do you think he’ll say?” She pointed to soil stains on the hem of her pale dress. “Just look at what you’ve done! Could you be any more ungrateful for the hard work that went into making this dress. You look a disgrace.”
I couldn’t believe a maid was talking to her mistress that way. But the woman I now knew to be Lady Cuthbert did nothing to rebuke her. Instead, she let herself be dragged across the grass and stood perfectly still as the servant rearranged her shawl and refastened her hair in the pooled light of a window.
The maid turned on her heel. “Follow me quickly and maybe nobody important will notice your absence. But don’t think for one moment that your husband won’t have noticed your departure or the state you’re in now.”
Lady Cuthbert followed silently. The carefree woman I had seen earlier was replaced by a mechanical doll with perfect steps, a straight back, and blank eyes angled down. I swallowed down my disgust.
How could she live a life where even her own maids were allowed to speak to her like that, yet still keep that hidden joyful part of her unscathed? The part that could feel excitement as if nothing wrong had ever happened. She was an enigma, and I wished I had her gift.
I stepped away from the battlements and tried to wash the sour taste from my mouth with the remainder of the wine. Still curious about Lady Cuthbert, I took the winding steps down to the Great Hall.
The air of the room was heavy with smoke and gossip, the king’s speech finished. Nobody had noticed my departure, and now, nobody noticed my return. I lingered in the corner—people kept out of my way—until I caught sight of the maid and Lady Cuthbert entering through the side hall. It was like her body was empty, with no trace of emotion. If it weren’t for the dash of mud on the hem of her cream gown, I would have never imagined she’d been running free and excited only minutes earlier.
The maid’s face bore an expression of masked victory and smugness. My fingers had already curled around my sword hilt, and I released them one by one. I vaguely knew Sir Cuthbert, a high-level merchant with a trace of old nobility. He was easily twice the age of the woman I now knew to be his wife.
Lady Cuthbert nodded as she was returned to her husband’s side. He barely broke off his conversation with Lord Lyrason. She looked defeated and resigned, despite her polite mannerisms. I noticed the way her husband’s lips tightened, showing a flash of anger when he looked down at her dress. My own anger rose in response, but I turned away. It was none of my business. I knew next to nothing about the family. Besides, I had problems of my own to deal with. Like avoiding being killed by my father or Kollenstar soldiers. Not to mention working out whether Lord Lyrason’s mysterious illegal activities affected the safety of my home. Yes, I should be watching the man Lord Cuthbert was talking to, not his wife. Lord Lyrason was powerful and in favor with the king, who I could only assume was ignorant of his experiments. I couldn’t show any weakness in front of the lord or let him detect any interest in Lady Cuthbert. He was shrewd, and it would only make things worse for her.
Still, I glanced back, my anger bubbling beneath a tight lid. Lord Lyrason noticed and met my eyes with a small smile. His nod caused light to glint across the lenses of his glasses, ever perfectly polite.
I ignored him, refusing to nod in return.
Rightly or wrongly, I returned my wine goblet to a servant and left before I could see anymore—what I’d observed was already enough to haunt me.
The following week, we’d left on the next campaign, half convinced this would be the one I never returned from. The king put my regiment in riskier situations with every battle; with every campaign, I lost a greater percentage of my men. Yet, despite his best efforts, I survived the Kollenstar attacks. Barely. That arrow wound still hurt.
When I’d returned to the capital nine days ago, I had heard that Sir Cuthbert was recently dead at the age of forty-three. I had been bed bound from my injury for two days in my townhouse in Highfair, but once I’d recovered enough to walk, some strange impulse led me to his funeral. I wanted to know what had become of his wife, only to see her in the talons of her father.
Then the rumors began spreading throughout Adenburg. Sophie Cuthbert was using her maiden name, Halfield, a clear sign that she was already looking for a new husband. Speculations of how her husband had died quickly followed. The physicians declared he had died of complications from consumption, but since everything worked so simply to benefit Sir Halfield, the rumors didn’t stop. The gossip had been one of the reasons I’d decided to return to Kasomere so soon after my injury; I couldn’t escape her name and the conflicted thoughts that came with it.
I couldn’t help remembering her joy and the way it had been snuffed out by those around her.
Now the rumor mill would also include my name, since her father’s acceptance of our betrothal was clenched between my fingers. I felt sick again as I read his detailed letter drawing up the terms and conditions as if it were merely a business transaction. He wanted us wed within the week. What sort of a man rushed his widowed daughter’s wedding?
I tossed it to one side and straightened my cuffs, preparing to return to my office. I shouldn’t waste any time when there was much to do.
Still, my eyes glanced back at the letter. Had he asked her opinion at all? Probably not. If he had, she would have been sure to say no.
Should I be doing this at all? I had never wanted to marry a woman against her will.
But surely life would be better for her this way?
My resolve trembled a little, but then I remembered the way her smile had cracked open her mask, and the beauty I’d witnessed beneath. My chest tightened. This would be one thing I was not going to mess up.
I needed to get Kasomere ready to receive her so she would be as comfortable and happy as possible.
A knock on the door startled me from my thoughts. I dragged a hand down my face as Callum pushed open the door still wearing his cloak and muddy boots. I was working up a scowl at the mess he was making on the carpet when I caught his grim expression.
“Kasten, we’ve got another body on our hands, and this one is really not pretty. We suspect it’s Lord Lyrason again.”