33. Thirty-Three
thirty-three
"You rule your court with fear," Neira remarked, two days later. They were sharing a parlour – her with her book, him struggling through correspondence. She sat on a cushioned bench by the window overlooking the bay, the book open on her lap, in one of those severe dresses that she had brought from her own castle.
Erqis didn't understand why she would choose to set herself apart like this, but he didn't presume to know a lady's thoughts and motivations. Women were mercurial creatures in his experience, and none more so than his wife. It was a miracle that, after everything he had put her through so far, she tolerated being in the same room as him at all. He set down the report he was working through.
"Naturally."
Her dark eyes cut to him with the air of a cat pouncing on a particularly stupid mouse. "And still, your court is close to toppling."
"What makes you say that?"
She wasn't wrong. Already she was reading him like his mind was made of glass. And had apparently taken his request to help with ruling seriously by watching and forming an opinion that she now voiced.
"I am expanding my reign. A bit of grumbling is to be expected. A strong hand keeps them from plotting."
She shook her head. "It doesn't. It keeps you too distracted to see it, though, pulled in all directions as you are."
Intriguing . "What do you know?"
Neira closed the book and set it onto the small, round table next to her, where her tea had been cooling for a while.
"I know that you murdered a man on a whim – cruelly, in front of not just your nobles but also the commoners. You did it to send them a message, more than it was a personal punishment for that unfortunate individual. And then you asked me to reanimate him. Not because you thought he would come back to life whole and carry your message back to his master, but to show any would-be conspirators what would happen to them if you unearthed their treason."
"Very perceptive of you. What's your point?"
He watched her stiffen in annoyance at his drawl, those dark brows ticking towards each other. She was annoyed with his continued protectiveness, he knew that, but there was more to it. Erqis wanted to crack her open like an obstinate puzzle box – or even better, take off her dress, kneel between her thighs and polish her clit with his tongue until she lost that aggravating composure and her cries echoed over the bay.
She shifted as if reading his intent on his face. "My point is that if you squeeze your fist too tight, you will make a mess of things."
Erqis grinned. "Personally, I've always enjoyed the mess that comes with a particularly tight fist ."
Neira frowned at him, and he saw the exact moment she caught his meaning. A flush crept up her pale neck and her attitude became huffier still; she stood abruptly, gathering her skirts, and headed towards the door, her undead cat following at her heels loyally.
"I have no interest being in your company if all you do is make fun of me. For trying to help you, no less."
"Neira…" Erqis intercepted her before she reached the door, blocking it with his body. He curled his fingers around her upper arm when she tried to dart around him, and those angry eyes flicked up at his face sharp as daggers. He almost asked her if her cunt was already missing him, but even he could tell this wasn't one of their more playful fights. Neira was genuinely agitated. "I'm just teasing. What's with you lately?"
"Aside from the fact that you dragged me here to this forsaken rock, are forcing me to suffer your obnoxious self daily by making me marry you, and now refuse to even let me read in peace without you hovering?"
Yes, definitely not the time to proposition her. She may actually stab him in earnest if he tried. "Obviously aside from that." She tried tugging her arm out of his grip to no avail. "Come on. Tell me what you wanted to say."
"No."
Erqis rolled his eyes. "I am so grandly sorry for making fun of you. Will you please share your insights with me so we may rule this forsaken rock more efficiently."
"Not if you're not going to take me seriously."
"I – listen." He marched her over to the bench and sat her down again, his hand sliding down to her wrist when he took a knee in front of her. "I thought we were having this cute little back and forth banter situation. I apologise if I misread your mood."
She didn't believe him, Erqis could see that on her face, but at least she didn't bolt the moment he loosened his grip on her. Or ram her nails into his eyes. His thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. For once, she didn't pull away.
"Please tell me your thoughts."
"It is even more annoying when you are accommodating."
"Isn't it just?" He lifted her hand to kiss the back of it.
Neira huffed. "Fine. Where was I?"
"Horribly cruel display of dominance in front of the assembled court."
"Right." She cleared her throat. "Your court has no purpose."
"Please don't start with your regiars again."
"All they do all day is watch what you do, conspire among themselves and try to build their influence over each other! It's a viper's pit. The highlight of their day is when another murder happens, or they can spend the coin you give them on frivolous things. Why do you keep them around if you don't make use of them? If they had something to do-"
"How do you know that?"
She blinked at him, thrown for a moment. "How do I know what?"
"All of that – what they do, what they spend their stipends on."
"Ira told me."
"Ira." Erqis blinked, searching his memories for an Ira. The longer he stalled, the deeper the frown line between Neira's brows became.
"Ira Kartenn. Your head of officiars."
"Right… right. That Ira. I knew that." Why was she talking to the officiars? "So what you are telling me is that the noble houses could be… useful?"
"People, by their very nature, are competitive. If men believe they can grasp for just a bit more power, they will. You did. And now you give them the leisure of emulating you in their endeavours, which is a problem. It's very obvious." Neira shrugged. "Plus, people talk. Loudly. Most of them are morons who don’t know the meaning of subtlety.”
“This feels oddly personal.”
“If you listened for once instead of talking, you'd know – there are several plots against you in varying stages of completion, and more or less sophisticated. They won't act on them yet, especially not after this latest display, but the moment you show weakness…" Her hand shot out and wrapped around his throat. "You're done."
Her grip forced his chin up a fraction. She wasn't gripping him as tightly as she could have, but that didn't make the move any less appealing. An image flashed into his mind: her hand tight around his throat, her lithe body atop him, squeezing as she took her pleasure. His gaze travelled down her front, lingered on the hollow of her throat, her breasts.
Neira smacked the back of her hand against the underside of his chin. "Stop that."
Erqis merely grinned. “Where did you hear of those alleged plots?”
“Aubri may not have fully succeeded in braiding my hair the way I like it, but she does know how to gossip. As I said – people are not subtle.”
"I see your point," he conceded, mourning the loss of her fingers on his skin when she drew back her hand. "But at the same time, isn't it moot? When they get close to moving against me again, I'll simply burn another."
"Until someone wielding water comes to overthrow you. What then?"
He snorted. "I'll just have you bring me back, of course."
"Or I'll bury you and run your kingdom myself."
"And you'd do it much better than I ever could, I am sure." Erqis rose, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You worry too much. The tempest is a difficult magic to grasp, besides."
"My maid was quite skilled at it."
"Your maid was Farn?"
Neira frowned. "How do you know?"
It was Erqis' turn to be puzzled. "Because you just said she wielded tempest magic."
"And?" Exasperation saturated the word.
Erqis stared at her. She didn't know. And it made so much sense, too – the woman was well past the age for political marriage, had never been forced to choose a husband, which meant that her father had never truly meant for her to leave his realm, and why would he educate his daughter in the superstitions of the world if she had never been meant to join it?
"Neira, where does magic come from?"
"Are you going to ask me about the happenstance of children next? What is this game?"
"No, I'm serious." He leaned back against the windowsill, crossing his arms. "Tell me what you know of magic and its origins."
Neira rolled her eyes. "You – fine. If you insist. My father said that magic travels through the blood, so bloodlines must be kept strong. If the blood becomes too diluted, or the parents a poor match, there are aids that the wielder needs to use – he'd give me slips of parchment with spells. That was all the magic I could do before… this."
"That’s what he told you?"
Her hackles rose immediately. "I suppose you know better, then. Go on, then. Enlighten me."
Erqis hesitated. Telling her the truth was likely a mistake, a weakness she would exploit at the first opportunity. But at the same time… even if she did get rid of him, what did she plan on doing then? His wife was an enigma.
"There are two proven ways to gain control over magic that we know of, and one terrifying rumour," he began haltingly. "The first, you're a Farn, or have Farn ancestry and a scoop of luck big enough that you inherit whatever it is that allows them to wield the elements. In that sense, there was some truth to what he told you. The second, you have managed to harness alchemic magic, something no one has done successfully since the realms sundered apart. Even showing an academic interest in the subject is enough to have you executed in most realms. Everything we know about your father hints at him having mastered alchemy, or at the very least the alchemic runes. But it doesn't explain how you have suddenly inherited what we can only assume is his magic, as alchemy is not innate. It is learned."
She was still frowning at him.
"There is a third way. It is an old wives' tale from before the Blight… you make a sacrifice to an entity so monstrous, so deeply horrible, that the people you'll try to subdue won't even think about fighting you, because if you're capable of that kind of sacrifice, to an entity horrible and powerful enough to reward you with magic you shouldn't possess – then what other evils are you willing to enact?"
Understanding dawned on her face. "You… you're not Farn though."
Erqis said nothing.
"And neither am I."
"Perhaps your father's sacrifice was so monumental that its reward spilled into his heirs. Or…" Erqis halted again, running a hand over his face. "Neira, until I met you, I was quite sure that the sacrifice part was superstitious horse shit. I do have Farn blood, but very few people know that. I’m happy to let their imaginations run wild, because it makes ruling them easier. Let them believe I have made the ultimate sacrifice to grasp this power."
She was still frozen when he looked at her again.
"You, though. Your magic is… other . No Farn bloodline has ever been known to possess magic which could bring back the dead."