Chapter 21 #2
“And your wife, skulking around, reporting to her father. This is all your fault for dragging them here. What’s your plan? Tell me.”
“Stop it!” Liana growled. And then she turned to Amron. “Get your mother, now!”
Pale with shock, he opened his mouth to argue, but she cried, “Go!” and he ran.
“It’s you,” the king said, studying her face. “I should have guessed. Will you finish what that bitch started?”
“You’re drunk,” Liana spat.
He tried to grab her arm, but Liana was stronger.
She caught his wrist and removed his hand.
“Your Majesty, you’re drunk,” she repeated, calmer, “and wounded and confused. But Amron is loyal to you and is currently doing everything he can to stop the conflict. If you can’t see that, you should be seriously worried about your judgment. ”
The only answer was the king’s fast, shallow breathing.
“All Amron ever wanted was for you to acknowledge how damn good he was at everything you threw at him,” she added, even though she knew it was futile.
And then voices echoed among the trees, footsteps on the gravel, and Amron appeared, followed by the queen in her nightgown with a pale lilac shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“You need a physician,” Queen Orsiana said, her voice leaving no room for argument. “But discreetly. Let’s get you to my room. Amron, please.”
Unwilling to spin wild accusations before his wife, the king allowed Amron to prop him up. Liana stepped to the other side to help him.
That morning in front of the palace, the king had cut an impressive figure: tall, strong, and terrifying. In the moonlit garden, he was a pale ghost, a heavy middle-aged man hanging between them like a drunk thrown out of a tavern.
As Amron moved forward, the king grunted, his eyelids fluttering.
“Walk now, please,” the queen said.
The three of them stumbled across the terrace and into the corridor.
The cool draft revived the king somewhat, and his legs found purchase on the stone flags, lifting some of the weight off Liana’s shoulders.
The sour odor of his sweat mixed with alcohol offended her nostrils, and the unwanted proximity of his body made her wish for a good scrub.
Not to mention the repulsion stemming from his treatment of her that morning.
But Amron needed her help, and she was going to help him.
The two guards in front of the queen’s chambers, a woman and a man, opened the door without a word, pretending they didn’t notice the king. They’d obviously seen him at his worst before.
“Come in, come in.” The queen rushed them through the door and into the antechamber, where the sleepy lady opened the bedroom door for them.
It was the room Liana had slept in for the last thirteen years, complete with the massive four-poster bed, the green brocade curtains, and the floral tapestries.
She missed her step, tripping on the edge of the carpet, almost pulling the king down.
Queen Orsiana jumped at her side, steadying her.
The queen’s hands were cold and surprisingly strong.
“It’s fine, you’re safe here,” she said so softly only Liana could hear, and then she ordered, “Lay him on the bed.”
Liana helped Amron drag his father and lay him down. The velvet on his belly was ripped, the small hole surrounded by a barely visible circle of dried blood. Belly wounds were dangerous, but this one didn’t look immediately lethal. Unless…
“Orsiana,” the king said. Propped up by pillows, his blond hair matted, his face deathly pale beneath his beard, he didn’t look like a drunk anymore—he looked frighteningly frail.
“Amron.” Queen Orsiana sat beside her husband, and it took Liana a long moment to remember Amron and his father shared the same name, and that the queen was talking to her husband.
The queen’s hands slid down his body to the rip in the fabric.
“You’re wounded. Oh, I’ll fetch the scissors, we need to cut the fabric away, wash the wound. Call for physicians.”
But the king caught her wrist. “Orsiana, no. There’s no point, it’s already too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“The blade was poisoned,” Liana said softly. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, the uninvited guest, the ghost in the room. “Elmarran poison.”
“How does it work?” the queen asked.
“Makes you go numb,” the king replied before Liana had opened her mouth. He was struggling to breathe. “I can feel it spreading through my body.”
The queen gently pulled her hand out of his grasp and stroked his face. “What did you do?”
“I tried to reason with Roderi, but he sent his woman instead. It doesn’t matter now.” The king paused to take a sip of the water the queen offered him. “We need to talk in private.”
Amron caught Liana’s hand. “Come,” he whispered. “We should wait outside.”
They closed the door behind them. The antechamber was empty, lit by a single oil lamp.
Amron sat on a bench beside the window and hid his face behind his hands.
Liana stood frozen, weighing the possibilities, her fingers itching to touch him, her brain telling her he might not welcome it, might not even want her to witness his anguish.
In the end, her heart won, and she sat beside him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, keeping her touch light, ready to retreat at the first sign of rejection. Words were futile and hollow in a moment like this, but still she said, “He didn’t mean it.”
He remained stiff for a while, a cold stone effigy closed off from the world. But then he turned, wrapped his arms around her, and sank into her embrace.
“I should have told him about my mistrust of Roderi earlier, but that would have put Melia in a terrible position.”
“I don’t think he would have believed you anyway,” Liana said.
“You’re right. He would have brushed it off, just like he brushed off all my doubts about Elmar and this match.”
His breath felt warm on her skin, his head heavy on her shoulder.
She breathed in the familiar scent of his hair, her hands welcoming his sharp bones, his hard shoulders.
She closed her eyes, pushing away the world around them, focusing on the perfect simplicity of breathing, the synchronized rhythm. Inhale, exhale.
The night around them writhed in agony, yet here, inside these rooms, there was nothing but silence. Liana might have dozed off for a moment, because the next thing she felt was a light touch on her shoulder.
“It’s time, he wants to see you,” the queen told Amron.
He separated himself from Liana, cold rushing in to replace the warmth of his body. Standing up, he smoothed the creases on his clothes in a gesture so automatic he probably wasn’t aware of it. His face was bone white, stunned.
“I’ll give you a little while, and then I’ll fetch your brother,” his mother said. “I’ve already sent Deana to find Amielle.”
He nodded, threw one long look at Liana, and was gone.
The queen stood with her arms crossed, hugging herself against the night breeze.
Liana had met the queen when she’d first joined Amron.
She’d never been hostile to Liana, not in the way mothers-in-law sometimes were, possessive of her precious son, jealous of the love he gave her.
She’d accepted Amron’s choice, despite the fact that Liana had no family, no standing, nothing to offer but herself.
And yet, there had been a rift between them, because Queen Orsiana always thought about the kingdom first and Liana found that monstrously cold.
In fact, although she was mortal, Queen Orsiana seemed more godlike than the gods to Liana.
She had their scope, their comprehension of the immensely complex structure of the world in her head, as well as the ability to focus on the smallest detail when it was necessary, but she had none of their frivolity, their aimless capriciousness.
She was compassionate and understanding, and yet perfectly ruthless to the ones she loved the most when her goals demanded it.
Like Amron, but harder. And like him, she could see the divine touch.
The queen’s clear gray gaze rested on Liana—curious, careful. “He’s in love with you,” she said so softly it was like a feather falling on a pillow, “though he doesn’t know it yet.”
Liana sat very still, a mouse before an owl. She waited for the queen to say more, to judge her or demand an explanation, but she turned on her heel, saying, “I need to find Amril,” and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Liana alone with her thoughts.
The king was dying.
If the king died, the war would be inevitable.
Every step she’d taken, every choice, proved to be futile.
History swerved a little, but it returned to its course in the end.
Liana desperately ran through the options in her head.
What if Melia did what Amron had asked her to, what if she begged her father to run?
Could it change anything? Probably not, for Roderi was not trying to hide his intentions anymore—this was open rebellion.
He’d attacked the king. And if he accused the Seragians, if he managed to spread the lie fast enough…
The queen returned with her elder son. Amril’s face still had a greenish hue, but he moved swiftly, proceeding directly to the bedroom, only shooting a distracted look at Liana and not really seeing her in her uniform.
Amron walked out as soon as his brother entered, looking even more distressed than before. His eyes were red, though no tears slid down his cheeks. The queen put her hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He shook his head. “I’m a fool,” he said in a faraway voice. “I always thought, if I tried harder, perhaps he would finally see me, he would finally—” Pain cut his voice to a ragged whisper.
Liana faded into the shadows, an intruder, an unwelcome witness. Amron wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“He loves you, as much as he can love his complete opposite,” the queen comforted him.
“You’re far too generous,” Amron said. “After all he’s done to you.”
The queen took a step back, lifted her head to look her son in the eye. “You’re free to judge him for how he’s treated you, but you should leave me out of that equation. Our marriage was our own, for better or worse.”
“He promised to love and respect you.”
“And what makes you think he didn’t?” The queen raised her hands and cupped her son’s face.
“You’re the cleverest of all my children, and yet you can be so dumb sometimes.
His absence was a gift, a blessing. Do you think I wanted his unrelenting, demanding attention all the time?
Do you think I wanted one dangerous pregnancy after another until I died?
Would you do that to a woman you loved?”
“Mother—” He tried to turn his head, but she held it in a firm grasp.
“Your father is a hard, complicated man, and he’s made many mistakes in his life, but our marriage is not one of them, and I won’t have you hate him for it. I didn’t raise you to be so narrow-minded.”
Amron blushed and looked away. “Point taken,” he said, as his eyes found Liana in her nook.
Liana expected embarrassment or anger, but all she saw in Amron’s face was relief.
“Mother, this is Liana, Captain Darin’s daughter.”
“The girl with the Seragian blade, yes,” the queen said. “Come closer, child.”
Queen Orsiana’s hands were cold and gentle when she laid them on Liana’s cheeks. “You look like your father, but there’s more to you than that, isn’t there?”
Liana shot a glance at Amron. He couldn’t have told her anything about Lela, about the war, about their future, there had been no time. And yet, the queen knew.
“Can you help us?” the queen asked.
“That’s why I came,” Liana replied. “Though…” Her gaze darted to the bedchamber where the king lay dying. “It might not be enough.”
“If I ask you to do something, if everything else fails, will you do it?”
There it was, the divine trick wrapped up as an innocent question. Liana knew about deals, knew about bargains. She hesitated.
“Not for me,” the queen said so softly only Liana could hear. “For Amron. That’s why you’re here, right? Will you do it for him?”
What was she supposed to say? “I will,” she confirmed, and felt the words bind her stronger than chains.
Amril stumbled out of his father’s room at that moment and grabbed Amron, pulling him away. “Where’s your wife? Why did you send her away?” His anger shattered the atmosphere, mixing fury with grief.
“To tell her father to run away.”
Amril took a swing at him, but Amron was faster, dodging the blow.
The queen caught Liana’s arm, pulling her back. “Don’t interfere.”
“Did you plan all this with Roderi and your wife?” Amril growled.
“No. I thought she wanted to embarrass you and spoil the wedding. Not this.”
“I don’t believe you,” Amril spat. “All you’ve ever wanted was to take my place.”
He lunged at Amron again, but Amron pushed him away. “Use your wine-soaked brain for once in your life. If you give him chaos, he’ll use it against you, and then you’ll have worse problems than Elmar.”
“He tried to kill Father.”
“Yes. And despite that, he’s not your biggest problem.”
At that moment, a young woman ran into the room. Tall, lean, and blonde, she looked so much like Amron there was no need to ask who she was.
“Where’s Father, what’s going on?” she asked. “Are you two fools fighting?”
“You need to go in,” the queen said.
“We all need to go in, I’m not wasting his time if what Deana said was true,” Princess Amielle said.
“Amril, Amron, the Seragian embassy is under attack, Erian just got the news. Someone is spreading rumors that the Seragians have killed the king and are planning to take the throne. The guards are there, fighting the mob.”
“We need to go there,” Amril said, but the queen caught his arm, stirring him towards the bedchamber.
“Not you,” she said.
Amron turned towards Liana, his eyes uncertain. He lingered on the doorstep, the last of his family. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“Stay with your father,” Liana said. “I must find mine.”