Chapter Eight #2
Moira then related the same story Millicent had shared.
From the bored looks of the others, they’d also already been filled in by their maids.
None looked surprised when the Lady of Wurrkia downplayed the fact that the reason the Queen Mother had visited was because the King was vexed at Lord Aylmer arresting and executing someone for treason without informing him.
Moira did, however, mention the fact that Kerainne had expressed concern for Kestrel.
Someone snickered and whispered low enough for Kestrel to hear. “She couldn’t have been all that concerned if she couldn’t bother to wait for the traitor’s daughter to come back from her ride.”
“Or she could have flown there,” another whispered.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alayne scolded. “Luminites have a difficult time in the cold. She would have needed to conserve her energy to open a portal back to Raijin.”
Moira cleared her throat. “I’ve also heard some even more interesting gossip about the Queen Mother. Her longtime suitor has come down from Luminista and has joined the King and Queen’s side in the war against the Evil One.”
The Evil One my father sided with , Kestrel thought glumly even as she felt a few accusing stares burning into aura.
“However, let’s leave the battle talk to the men,” Moira continued. “What’s also interesting is that apparently Lucian Jagwolfe, Kerainne’s beloved, was briefly betrothed to none other than Nikkita Leonine, her own sister!”
Kestrel’s gasp echoed with the others. Why would the matriarchs of Luminista do such a thing?
“But the betrothal was quickly broken when it was revealed that Nikkita had conceived a child with the Keeper of the Prophecy before he became the first vampire.” Moira leaned forward and lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone that was delightfully girlish.
“When I heard about that, I wonder if the reason the Leonine princesses’ legendary visit to our healers those many centuries ago was because of Nikkita’s once-secret pregnancy. ”
This was fascinating gossip indeed. Before her father ruined her life and her betrothed revealed himself to be a monster, Kestrel would have sighed over the luminite princess’s secret baby and the Queen Mother’s own fraught romance with luminite prince, but right now her mind was on current events.
Namely, would Kerainne be returning soon?
And would King Zareth and Queen Xochitl come with her?
While Moira and the other ladies speculated on this historic scandal, Kestrel nibbled on a lemon cake. She was on her second one when the conversation gradually made its way back to present happenings.
She spoke of her son, Artavian and his gaining power as a mage…
apparently he’d decided to pursue the purple robes and was considering going for the black…
and his happiness with his husband. Because Wurrak men who loved men were exiled up until Artavian’s love for the Queen’s bandmate convinced Lord Aylmer to change precedent only half a year ago, many of the ladies went stiff and awkward with Lady Moira’s cheery talk of her son’s marriage.
Kestrel herself was stuck between warmth at the rule-defying romance and wishing the mage had instead been an eligible bachelor because he was said to be kind and powerful.
The subject then shifted to betrothals amongst the ladies, upcoming balls, who was pregnant, and which lords were on the outs with each other. Some foreshadowing for the conflict to come.
Kestrel got a lot of speculative looks during the discussion of betrothals, but Moira didn’t single her out directly until the talk moved to each lady’s progress in their use and training in healing magic.
“I’m sure you must miss practicing a lot, Miss Goshawk,” Moira patted her hand. “So, I’m very happy to know that soon you’ll be able to don your blue robes again.”
Her words wrought mixed reactions from the other ladies in attendance. Some gave Kestrel warm, encouraging smiles. Others glared at her with increased hostility.
When the tea was finally over and they filed out of the parlor, Kestrel learned the reason behind the hatred.
“If it was up to me, you would never be allowed to wear the blue robes again,” Lady Paula, of House Hornet hissed. “Because of your father, my sister Leah was taken by Mephistopheles.”
“And my best friend, Jeane,” the mean lady from last night added.
“My mother!” someone else said.
A lump formed in Kestrel’s throat as she heard the names of the healers who’d been abducted in the attack; sisters, mothers, cousins, friends. Even though she hadn’t been part of her father’s conspiring with the Evil One, she understood their pain and need for someone to blame.
Alayne and Sarah sternly reminded the hostile women about her being ruled innocent, but Kestrel was unable to say a word of gratitude any more than she could speak up in her own defense.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as grief petrified her.
She’d only been thinking of all the injustices inflicted on her.
The taken healers had barely crossed her mind until now.
Her tormentors stared at her in astonishment before muttering awkward farewells and rushing away to their apartments.
Her allies walked with her as far as they could, offering comforting words and promises of retribution.
Kestrel recovered enough to thank them and accept an invitation to sit with them at tonight’s supper before they separated to return to their respective rooms.
As maids and menservants, including guards, were not permitted to be in Lady Moira’s parlor, Kestrel found herself blissfully alone for the first time in ages.
After so many years of idealizing the elegance and bustle of the capitol, she realized how wrong she’d been.
Now she missed the solitude and woodsy beauty of Raptor’s Roost more than ever.
Taking advantage of the quiet hallway, she slowed her steps and permitted herself to admire the view from one of the arrow-slit windows.
The knights marching the parapet, the frosty Lordswood, the village beyond with plumes of smoke coming from chimneys, and, off in the distance, the snow-covered mountains on the borders of Tolonqua and Laran.
Raptors Roost had a better view of them, the memory sending a second wave of homesickness crashing over her.
Kestrel didn’t know how long she stood in the empty corridor before a dreaded voice spoke behind her.
“Just the little traitor-spawn I was looking for.”
Kestrel whirled around to meet Sir Gerard’s sneering stare. The Wolf stood beside him, wearing a gray woolen cloak over his armor, his nose slightly reddened. They’d come from outside.
She dipped a hasty curtsy and prayed to the fates that whatever torment her former betrothed had in store for her would be brief. “Sir.”
“Come take a walk with me on the parapet.”
“M-may I get my shawl first?” Her tea dress would do nothing to protect her from the winter chill and the last thing she needed was to be seen dressed inappropriately for the cold again.
“No,” Gerard barked. “You don’t need any fripperies for such a short venture.”
Biting back a sigh, she followed him. The Wolf’s clinking chainmail behind her was oddly reassuring. Maybe because she doubted Gerard would go too far in front of a witness. That had to be it.
The cold winter wind on the parapet struck her face like an icy slap.
Gerard’s grin broadened at her discomfort as he led her around the corner to the wall above the castle entrance.
Kestrel’s slippers, with their smooth soles meant for fine carpets, were woefully ill-suited for the icy stone, threating to slide out from under her at the wrong step.
“The taxidermist took longer than I would have liked, but he did fine work.”
At first Kestrel had no idea what Gerard was talking about. Then he pointed upward.
Above them, four heads were mounted on spikes.
A low, cry of mingled disgust and pain roared in her ears before she realized it came from her.
Gerard laughed. “The first one on the right is your father. Then your slut of a tutor, and the bastard knights.”
She must have moved back or signaled some other kind of retreat, for he seized her arm so roughly it hurt.
“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere. It would be rude not to take a few minutes to appreciate Master Trant’s handiwork.
He preserved them well enough that they won’t start rotting until late spring. ”
Kestrel’s stomach churned. The little sandwiches and lemon cakes threatened to make their way back up and out.
She couldn’t do it. Witnessing the executions had been traumatizing enough, even though the Wolf had messed up when Gerard had ordered him to force her watch by angling her head in a way that allowed her to look away.
Gerard’s painful grip on her arm tightened further. “Look at them! Or I’ll have the Wolf make you look.”
Taking a deep breath, Kestrel lifted her chin and looked.
The preservation techniques made the heads look so different from the people they’d once belonged to, allowing her to pretend they belonged to strangers.
However, as a healer mage, she was taught to revere life, so the barbaric display still sickened her.
After a few moments, she tried again to pull away.
“Look longer!” Gerard snarled.
His touch made her shiver with disgust, making Kestrel almost grateful for the cold. Because if he knew the real reason behind her trembling, he’d touch her more.
Suddenly, warm, coarse hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her slightly back.
“Sir Calla,” the Wolf’s voice rasped behind her. “Your father might take umbrage with her losing a toe to frostbite. Could make marrying her off a bigger challenge than it already is.”
Gerard glared at him, then sighed. “Then give her your cloak so she can look longer.”
The rough hands left Kestrel’s shoulders, then there was a rustle of cloth and clinking steel before a thick warm weight settled around her.
“Thank you, Sir,” Kestrel murmured, intentionally goading him for reasons she couldn’t explain.
“I’ve told you before. I’m not a fucking knight.”
She bit back a smile at his growl and at Gerard’s mistaken impression that she was upset at his response.
The thick cloak was warm from his large body and carried a unique scent of woodsmoke, steel, and the kind of sweat only made from hard work.
She had to hike it up so it wouldn’t drag on the ground even though she wished she could stand on the bottom hem to get reprieve from the icy stone beneath her slippers.
Thankfully, Gerard couldn’t take much more of the cold and ordered the Wolf to take her back to her room while he went to bark orders at some passing guards.
They walked in silence for a long while until they got to the neglected corridor for lower-ranking guests.
The Wolf cleared his throat. “Did you at least have a good time at Lady Moira’s tea?”
A bitter retort came to mind. Why? So you can tell Gerard and he can find a way to deprive me of those too?
Instead, she nodded. “Yes. Most of the talk was about the Queen Mother’s brief visit.
I wish I’d been there when she’d wanted to speak with me.
Maybe I could have appealed to her for help.
And even if I couldn’t, it still would have been wondrous to be in her presence for just a moment.
” The words tumbled out in an unstoppable rush, laying bare her pain.
“But maybe Lady Paula was right and I’m beneath her notice. ”
The Wolf snorted in derision. “Luminites aren’t as good and pure as they look.”
Kestrel gasped at his shocking words. Luminites were revered in Wurrak culture and both Kerainne and her sister Nikkita were important figures their country’s own history. His words were practically heresy.
Then again, maybe he was right. The Queen Mother was said to always want to help people, especially women and children.
Yet she couldn’t even wait a few minutes for Kestrel to return from her ride.
And given that they were immortal beings with more power than any mere human could fathom, perhaps it made sense that they weren’t as good and kindly as the stories and songs said.
But Kerainne did say that the King would likely return.
The black-robed high sorcerer, known before his crowning as the Lord of Storm and Shadow had frightened her until the morning when Queen Xochitl fulfilled the Prophecy by bringing back the sun and crowning Aisthanesthai’s new ruler.
After killing the Winter Prince, Xochitl had placed her delicate tiara atop the enormous sorcerer’s head before collapsing in his arms. The tender way he’d held her, the agonized worry and deep love for her had been apparent to all.
Lady Moira and her ladies had woven a tapestry of the event.
If the King understood love, perhaps he’d be sympathetic to Kestrel being forced into a loveless marriage in order to be able to own her home. Then again, he may hold her father’s crimes against her too.
When they reached Kestrel’s door, she shrugged off the Wolf’s cloak and turned to hand it back to her, but he was already far down the hall in long strides as if he couldn’t wait to be away from her.