Chapter Twenty-Five
The princesses were clearly still keeping secrets, and it would take time for Aemyra to earn their trust, but all three had been forthcoming.
“This makes you look weak,” Riya said, following her down the stairs.
Aemyra tossed her damp braid over her shoulder, flapping the clean shirt against her skin to generate a breeze.
“It makes me look merciful,” she countered. “The princesses have given me information freely, enough to turn the tide of this war.”
Riya scoffed, pulling her arm cuff free with a tug. “I would have sent them to the dungeons on sight, not sequestered them in elaborate rooms with guards to wait on them hand and foot. They won’t have told you everything.”
Aemyra rubbed her tired eyes. There had been just enough time for her to freshen up before Riya had stormed in declaring Dildain had fallen and demanding to know why no public execution was taking place.
“I know you’re fond of roasting your prisoners to death, but these women are innocent,” Aemyra said. “I assure you when Adarian finds Laird Maryk I will not be so lenient.”
Riya’s dark eyes were penetrating as she thumbed her arm cuff. The laird’s skin was stained from the battle, her long hair gnarled, but she was still thrumming with energy.
“Stay with me,” Aemyra said on impulse. “I respect your judgment and would have you witness this yourself.”
Cowed, Riya gave the briefest nod before following Aemyra down the gloomy passage.
Aemyra wrinkled her nose as the air grew damp, and Riya lit the way with her magic. Praying to Brigid for strength, Aemyra steeled herself.
Riya noticed her trepidation. “Surely she can’t be that bad?”
“Trust me, she can.”
The rusted door opened with a screech, and Aemyra entered the dungeon cell.
A woman with raven hair and gray eyes was sitting rigidly on the only chair, ripped skirts pooling on the floor around her slender frame. A woman Aemyra had long suspected responsible for her near-mutilation. Alfred’s closest companion.
“Katherine,” Aemyra drawled. “It’s been too long.”
Wearing bravado like armor, Aemyra willed her hands not to shake as she took in the sight of Fiorean’s mother.
Terrea grumbled through the Bond, sensing her Dùileach’s distress, but remained patrolling the skies above Dildain with Gealach.
Freshly windswept, Draevan stood beside the chair triumphantly.
“You killed my son,” Katherine seethed.
Like she was stepping into the skin of a person who no longer existed, Aemyra tried to remember the version of herself Katherine was familiar with.
“Which one?” Aemyra asked, cocking her head. “I made an oath to the Goddess to kill Fiorean, but I’m not sure which of us you should hold responsible for Evander.”
With a smile, Draevan thumbed the hilt of Dorchadas, the blade that had cleaved Evander’s head from his shoulders.
Surprising herself, Aemyra felt a shred of sympathy for Katherine. No matter how awful Fiorean or Evander had been, she had birthed them.
Those gray eyes narrowed. “If you made an oath to kill Fiorean, why is that blasphemous mark still on your palm?”
Curling her fingers around it, Aemyra replied, “What do you know of Goddess oaths?”
“More than you think. Tìr Teine has been my home since my sixteenth birthday, as your father well knows.”
Katherine looked pointedly at Draevan, who sneered down at her. Riya cleared her throat and Aemyra pressed on.
“The princesses are safe,” she said, and Katherine’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“Do not reveal more—” Draevan began.
Holding up a hand, Aemyra cut off his words. Katherine’s lips twitched as if the sight of Draevan being obedient amused her.
“Clan Daercathian is crumbling from within,” Aemyra stated, removing her boot from a questionable puddle.
“I cannot rebuild it with half-truths and false information. The princesses have told me of Alfred’s sadistic nature, of how he carefully controlled them by threatening their children.
Now, how do I know if you were a victim of the same manipulation, or if you were a willing accomplice? ”
Despite the oppressive heat of the dungeons, Katherine shivered, but Aemyra had no way of knowing if it was fear of being found out or fear of Alfred.
“What are you talking about?” Draevan asked warily.
“Your spy killed the royal children on Alfred’s orders,” Aemyra said. “So many Dùileach princes in line for the throne, the Athair had to thin the ranks somehow.”
Even though Draevan had been protesting his innocence for months, he still looked shocked.
Katherine’s eyes were as cold as the stone surrounding them. “There is no limit to what a person will endure for their children.”
Draevan scoffed. “Yes. Like carting you on dragonback for fifty miles.”
Aemyra almost thumped him.
Riya frowned. “Don’t the Chosen preach the sanctity of life? I’m willing to believe a lot of the priests, but killing children?”
Terrea’s consciousness began bleeding through the Bond, but Aemyra tried to ignore it.
“The royal children are Dùileach and Alfred does not see them as equal to those untainted by magic. King Haedren and Evander were both used by him, as a way to control Kolreath. Alfred took advantage of their violence and instability to strengthen his hold within Caisteal Lasair, and by extension all of Tìr Teine.”
Draevan’s jaw was hard as he loomed over Katherine.
“He has had access to council meetings, the royal treasury, the armory, the royal guard…” His hands were on either side of her chair, the wood creaking in the tightness of his grip.
“He brought Covenanters and Chosen priests into this territory to incite violence against Dùileach. Waiting in the shadows until our clan finally crumbled and was ripe for the taking.”
Draevan looked ready to execute Katherine on the spot.
To give Katherine credit, she didn’t shrink away from the fury of the Prince of Penryth.
“Father, back away from her, now,” Aemyra ordered.
With a great show of effort, Draevan straightened, but his eyes never left Katherine’s face.
The dowager queen, however, turned slowly to look at Aemyra. “Have you figured it out yet?”
“Don’t listen to her—”
Aemyra silenced her father with one look and then turned to Katherine. “You have one chance to explain yourself. If you lie now, I will not block the path of my father’s sword.”
Katherine lifted her bound hands from her lap.
Before Riya or Draevan could protest, Aemyra pulled her dagger from her belt and cut through the ropes.
“Start talking.”
Katherine rose with fluid grace to her feet. Despite her gnarled hair and stained dress, she moved with an elegance befitting a dowager queen.
Even Riya raised her eyebrows.
Draevan looked like he was preparing to catch her should she flee.
Katherine drew a deep breath and began, “I was born in Tìr ùir as the only daughter of the admiral.”
Draevan rolled his eyes. “Cut to the chase, we have a town to secure.”
Aemyra held up her hand again. “I trust Adarian, Thear, and Maeve to secure Dildain. Let her talk.”
Katherine looked at Draevan, as if waiting to see if he would interrupt. When he didn’t, the ghost of a smirk turned the corners of her lips.
“I was raised in the Port of Worth with six brothers. My mother died giving birth to her last son, and my father was never as adept as she was at bookkeeping.”
Draevan feigned sleep but Aemyra ignored him.
Katherine continued, “The king put many demands on the fleet, and fearing retribution should he fail to meet royal standards, my father paid for reparations out of his own pocket. I came of age at the same time we needed saving from destitution.” With her next breath, she walked around the chair like she was taking a stroll in the gardens and not turning about a dank cell.
“The king received a missive from Haedren for an alliance between the two territories, requesting the aid of the fleet should he have need of it. Our king refused to make a deal with a Bonded Dùileach, but my father wrote to both kings in secret.”
Draevan sat up a little straighter.
“In the end, they agreed to a quarter of the fleet being at Haedren’s disposal if he would accept a bride of his choosing and her companion.”
“Alfred,” Aemyra spat.
Katherine inclined her head.
Riya interjected, “So your father sold you for enough coin to repay his debts, Haedren accepted because he needed ships, and the King of ùir—”
“Atheland,” Katherine corrected.
Riya glared at her refusal to use the Seann. “Your king sent Alfred with you to try and turn the Teine court against the Goddesses and spread the word of the Savior?”
Katherine’s lip curled. “You can ask your father for more details of my arrival. He was there for it all.”
Her gray eyes bored into Draevan, who was suddenly occupied examining his fingernails.
Riya sighed. “None of this is painting you as innocent.”
Katherine shuffled her skirts and nodded at Aemyra.
“She’s quicker than the two of you. I left behind everything I knew.
I was raised by a devout man and six brothers, in a territory where women are oppressed just as much as Dùileach.
Being married off to an abusive husband seemed normal to me, I endured it. ”
Draevan’s eyes were on Katherine’s face, a frown deepening his brow.
“Any time I faltered, Alfred would remind me of our mission in Tìr Teine, that we were doing the Savior’s work.
I truly believed we were doing the right thing.
I suffered at Haedren’s hand and knew it was the Bond to that dragon that was corrupting his soul.
I wrote to my father to request three ships a year bring Chosen priests to preach to the people of Tìr Teine in the hopes it would spare anyone the treatment I endured. ”
Aemyra could feel Riya’s shock beside her, the three of them hanging on Katherine’s every word.
“When the tower was constructed in the caisteal, it gave me a place to escape my husband. From the marriages I had seen in my homeland, I wished to give the same chance to other women, and when Clan Leuthanach wrote to Haedren, I allowed Alfred to take over the correspondence.”
At this admission, Aemyra bristled.
Katherine held up a hand. “I do not pretend to have been a perfect queen. But I did what I thought was right.”
Aemyra was quiet. Only a few short weeks at the hands of the Chosen priests had made her a shell of herself. It had taken months for her to feel like she could function again.
Katherine had been enduring that treatment for decades.
“You worship the Savior. Y-you’re from ùir,” Aemyra stuttered, clinging to the faintest shred of hope that she was wrong. “You wear the pendant.”
Katherine lifted her chin. “How do you escape when your captor isn’t a person but the society in which you live? I played the role that was forced upon me, just as you did,” Katherine said. “Without weapons, without advantage, I did what little I could.”
Draevan cut in. “I just pulled you from a shipwreck. You were on your way to petition your father for more ships bearing Covenanters. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I was traveling to retrieve my father’s fleet, yes,” Katherine said. “Fiorean instructed me to fill them with as many Covenanters as could be held belowdecks. He told me which route to take, and wrote to both the king in Ramburgh and my father. All with Alfred’s encouragement.”
Draevan growled and even Aemyra felt her temper spike.
Then Katherine spoke again.
“Fiorean wanted me to remain in the Port of Worth afterward, under the guise of a long-awaited visit with my family.”
Aemyra narrowed her eyes, waiting to see what Katherine would say next.
The dowager’s gray eyes flashed. “My son taught me how to dismantle the crossbows and catapults, so that when Aervor attacked them during the crossing, he could send both the fleet and a dozen battalions of Covenanters to the depths.”
Aemyra reeled back, shaking her head. Draevan looked pale.
Katherine seemed to be taking savage pleasure in their shock, and she gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles.
“Fiorean and I have been working against Alfred for years.”