Chapter Forty-Three
In the Palace of Xy
“They’re all dead?”
Her father’s words made Halithe hesitate as she gave up the reins to the waiting stableboy. She expected her father, Lord Marshal Tarwain, to be furious with Captain Ussin.
Instead, he almost seemed…panicked.
“Aye,” Ussin said as he swung off his horse. “The mage took them out before I could take him down.” He looked Tarwain right in the eye. “Powerful things, mages.”
Behind them, the portal snapped closed.
“Well,” Tarwain caught himself, looking around as those gathered in the courtyard started to react. “You men, see to the dead,” he ordered. “Captain Ussin, come with me. The King and Queen are waiting.” His gaze snapped to Halithe and he frowned. “Come,” he ordered.
“Yes, father,” Halithe said as one of the grooms moved to help her dismount. She was glad she had changed her boots for slippers before passing through the portal.
The Palace halls were filled with gossiping, whispering courtiers. Halithe kept her gaze down, as was proper, but that sick feeling of knowing condemning eyes were on her rose in her gut. Tongues would be wagging, she knew.
“Halithe,” Tarwain snapped, summoning her to his side.
Ussin gave them both a glance and fell back.
Her father strode on, his boots ringing on the marble floors. “I don’t blame you, entirely.” He kept his voice low. “I blame Kara, for filling your head with wild fantasies, and the Guildmaster for indulging them, but you are returned. Are you still ‘untouched?’” he demanded.
Of course, that would be his first concern. Halithe burned with both embarrassment and anger, and struggled to keep her feelings out of her voice. “Yes, Father.”
“I expected nothing less,” Tarwain said. “And would not expect a different answer even if that were not the truth. Regardless, it may still be possible to obtain a good marriage if—” he stopped as they reached the throne room doors.
The Herald stood there, staff in hand. “You are to have a private audience,” he said, then focused on Halithe. “Welcome back, Lady Halithe.”
Halithe gave him a small nod.
“Just open the doors,” Tarwain growled.
The Herald raised an eyebrow, then gave him a very slow nod and struck the floor with his staff of office. The doors swung open, revealing an all but empty throne room.
Private audiences are never truly private. There were the guards, of course, and a smattering of others standing to the side. Both the King and the Queen were seated on their thrones. The Bondmaidens stood behind Satia’s throne, demure in matching gowns.
Halithe only had eyes for Caris. Who met her gaze with no change of expression, though there was a spark of hope in those lovely eyes. Then Caris stiffened and looked away.
Halithe used her mage sight, though her bracelet tightened in resistance. The strands of the Bond glowed all around the Bondmaidens as they always did, with the one strand flowing away from the Queen in a straight line. But those around Caris seemed tighter, as if they—it—sensed a threat.
Ussin jogged Halithe’s elbow, which broke her focus. He urged her forward, as if she was a prize to be handed over, like the velvet bag he held.
She tore her gaze from Caris then, to face the King and Queen, and sucked in a breath.
Guildmaster Forterran was standing beside the King’s throne, looking grim and foreboding as he stared at her.
Her heart jumped with hope. Her Guildmaster was here, and he would deal with this situation. Except when she tried to catch his eye, he looked away.
The unease in her stomach grew deeper as she, her father, and Ussin approached the throne and made their obeisance.
“Ah, Captain Ussin,” Xyrath leaned forward on his throne as he gestured them to stand up. “A successful journey?”
Tarwain coughed, but before he could say anything Ussin was on one knee before the King. His armor creaked as he knelt, his mace hitting the floor.
“Your Majesty,” Ussin said, bowing his head, “your commands were obeyed but I must report the loss of all the men who accompanied me.”
“All?” Xyrath was clearly shocked.
“As Your Majesty warned me, the rogue mage was there, masquerading as a scribe,” Ussin said. “He turned the men’s weapons on them before I stuck him in the head with my mace.”
Halithe was still staring at Forterran, willing him to look at her. She saw a flicker of doubt cross his face, gone in an instant.
“He collapsed at my feet,” Ussin continued. “Bleeding from nose and ears. At that moment, the Lord High Baron Orval was released from his illusions, horrified at the deception that had been perpetrated upon him.”
Forterran’s eye twitched. Halithe waited for him to protest, but he remained silent, still not meeting her eyes.
“He’s dead then?” the Queen asked. “The mage is dead?”
“A blow like that is nearly always fatal,” Xyrath observed.
“It will be,” Ussin said confidently. “I heard the crack of his skull as I struck.”
Halithe winced.
Ussin kept on. “He did still breathe when I departed, but the Lord High Baron decreed for him a slow, lingering death as punishment for his crimes against your Majesties.”
“So, not yet dead.” The Queen’s displeasure was clear.
“The Lord High Baron asked me to relay his regards to Your Majesties, and to assure you of his loyalty. He will send messages. There was no time to write if I was to return through the portal. In truth, I think the violence and the betrayal rattled him.”
“No surprise there,” Xyrath looked over at the Queen. “Orval was never one for a fight.”
“Upon a search of the mage’s chamber we found his chains,” Ussin held up the silken bag, his head still bowed. “And this, which the Lord High Baron bade me present to you, my King.”
He raised his other hand, displaying the Ring of Xy in his palm.
There was an audible gasp from one of the guards, but the rest of the room stared in silence. The blue stone seemed to glitter in the torchlight.
Xyrath rose, a slow pleased smile spreading over his face. “Well, well.” He took a step off the dias, toward Ussin. “Well done, Captain Ussin.”
Ussin lifted his head, letting out a slow breath. “My thanks, Majesty.
Xyrath reached for the ring and slid it on his finger. “A perfect fit.” He raised his hand, admiring—
No. Halithe frowned. Xyrath was waiting for something. She glanced at Satia and Forterran. All were staring at the Ring.
At the stone.
After the briefest of pauses, Xyrath lowered his hand. “It’s as if it was made for me,” he said again, taking the silken bag from Ussin.
“As it should be,” Queen Satia purred. “By Blood and by right of conquest, my sovereign Lord.”
Xyrath gave her a dazzling smile, handed her the bag, and returned to his throne. “Well done, indeed, Captain Ussin. We must think on a reward.” He gestured for Ussin to rise, still staring at the ring on his finger.
“Service to Your Majesty is its own reward,” Ussin said, looking much relieved as he got to his feet. “There is this too, Your Majesty. The people of the Black Hills rose to defend the Lord High Baron. He has won their loyalty. They will serve him, and in doing, so they will serve you.”
“Excellent news,” Xyrath said absently, staring at the Ring. The Queen and Halithe’s father were staring too, and to Halithe’s eyes, they didn’t seem pleased.
“I have also brought the Lady Halithe, as you commanded.” Ussin bowed and took a few steps back. Halithe could feel Ussin’s eyes boring into the back of her neck.
Xyrath didn’t react, just rubbed at the stone of the ring. The Queen opened the bag, spilling out the delicate, dull chains into her other hand. Halithe wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk right off the woman’s face.
Preferably with fire.
The bracelet clamped on her wrist, reminding her of the danger.
Halithe saw the Queen catch her father’s eye and raise an eyebrow. Tarwain cleared his throat. “You Majesty, there is the matter of my daughter.”
“Ah, yes,” Xyrath lifted his head and focused on Halithe. “The dead mage’s apprentice, I believe.”
She dropped her eyelids, careful not to acknowledge the King’s intense and sudden interest.
Her father stepped forward. “You Majesty, I demand that the Guildmaster Forterran end this ridiculous apprenticeship, a sham perpetuated by that traitorous mage.” Halithe raised her head to protest as her father continued, “Remove that damn bracelet and return her to our family’s fold.”
“Guildmaster Forterran, if you would.” King Xyrath gestured to Halithe.
He wouldn’t, Halithe knew, she’d proved herself in his eyes. He’d shared guild secrets with her. He’d claimed her, after all. He knew the truth. She stared at Forterran as he walked toward her.
He still didn’t meet her gaze. “Of course, Your Majesty.” Forterran said.
Her knees went weak and the floor dropped out from under her.
“Excellent,” the Queen said. “Guildmaster Forterran, your guild has redeemed itself in our eyes. With your support, the rogue has been brought to justice. With this last act, we are well satisfied.”
Forterran bowed his head. “With your leave, Your majesties. This will take but a moment.” He turned his back to them, facing Halithe. “Your hand.”
Halithe stared at him, frozen.
“Halithe,” her father barked, and as she had always done, she obeyed, hating herself. Forterran clasped her wrist with one hand and placed his other hand on the bracelet. His hands began to glow.
Halithe tried to jerk her hand back, but he held it firm and started to chant, nonsense words as far as she knew. The sound rose around them and Halithe realized that while Forterran’s mouth moved, he wasn’t chanting. “Is this true?” he asked.
Halithe glanced at the King, but Forterran tugged her hand. “Eyes on me, chit. They can’t hear us. Is this true?”
“Yes,” she said. “And no. Ussin didn’t kill him, but Ritathan was struck down. He was still alive when we left.”
Forterran closed his eyes. “I warned him,” he sighed.
“You could have warned us,” Halithe hissed.