Asunder Page 5

  My darling baby girl …

  Beth wonders how I can know you are a girl. She can’t understand how I knew she carried you before she herself knew, but you showed me, didn’t you? In the dream I had on the night you began, you came to me as a young woman. Your hair was as black as my own, but your eyes were all your own, like the sun.

  You told me you wanted to know everything, from the beginning. I told you everything was a tall order, and you laughed like a river and told me I had better get started.

  This is the beginning of everything, then, my precious love, and I will do my best to leave nothing out.

  You come as something of a surprise to your mother, who - I will not lie to you - has been promised to a man other than myself. Our love is beyond politics and position, removed from arrangements and good breeding, but it is still a difficult situation for her. We left as soon as she knew she was pregnant, but it may not have been soon enough. The man she is meant to marry - well his father, at least, is of some influence. I fear for her safety more than mine.

  Mine is not a safe love for your mother to have. To ensure her survival - and yours - I must give up my Beth. I must surrender her to a union born of nothing more than political maneuvering. I must see you hidden and return her safely into his arms, and I must be the villain whose punishment absolves her in their eyes from the sin of love. It will break my heart and possibly take my life, but it is the only path I see in which you can both live.

  And what of Beth’s heart, Beth’s life? I would spare her any heartbreak, if I could, but she is destined to lose us both. She doesn’t believe so, not yet. She wants to believe that she can fulfill her obligation to marry as her father demands, secure in the knowledge that I will return to claim you and raise you far from his influence.

  Would that it could be so. For one so strong with magic, Bethcelamin has managed to shut her eyes tight to the truths she must surely know.

  Jayden Korith – that is the man your mother must marry – speaks out against magic, against any power he does not understand. He will be Duke after his father, but he desires to be King, to rule the land and abolish all traces of magic from it without exception or mercy.

  He is a fool, but he is also a fool who speaks the words many wish to hear. He is a fool with authority, and that makes him dangerous.

  The power he fears and protests is the power that is in me, and though she suppresses it, in your mother. That power is strong in you as well, I know. I can feel it - even now, while your mother lies sleeping beside the fire with you barely a swell in her belly.

  You … oh, my tiny daughter, you are in danger even before you are born, because you are no part of Jayden Korith. Fool though he be, surely he knows that any child born of Beth and myself will be inherently magic. You will be born to it and of it, intertwined with it, inseparable from it. You will be his greatest fear.

  Yet my heart smiles.

  Korith does not yet know of you, and there is still time. I have sent word to Calder already. He is my oldest friend, he will meet us on our journey and together we will find a way to protect both you and your mother.

  In the time between, I will write. You would not have asked for my knowledge without believing you would someday need it, and even if you have forgotten the asking, I never will. The task, though, lies in the beginning. Where does one start to record a lifetime of knowledge and learning, and how does one ever hope to complete it?

  Let me begin as you were begun, precious girl – with love. Love is greater than any gift you will ever know. In the giving and receiving of something so simple and yet so infinite, you will touch the very core and reason of life.

  Whatever you learn, wherever you go, however you live – never forget that it was love that brought you to yourself, love that began the journey.

  Oh, I would wish such things for you – love that moves the stars, the sharpest and most curious mind, the brilliant spark of life and constant enchantment I see in Beth’s eyes … but I fear those things are not mine to give, nor mine to witness in you.

  I do not wish to begin your tale of everything with sadness. I do not feel sad – and so should you not. I will not see you grown. I know this because you did not come to me as a child in the dream, you came to me as a woman, the woman I will never meet in this world. You came to me for knowledge because you knew I would not pass it to you with my own hands, my own voice.

  Truly, it is no surprise. It is not only my love for your mother that I must hide from the man she will someday call husband - my talents, while not overt, still draw attention. Even now users of magic are being captured and killed in the name of an event that has had a thousand years to be misunderstood.

  That is a story for another day, my lovely girl, the story of a man turned monster and how he broke the world – but I will get to it. After all, it is part of everything.

  For now, I write to prepare you, or perhaps it is to prepare myself. Korith will find out about you, of that I have no doubt. I can only work to ensure that you are safe, hidden far from his reach before he learns anything. Your mother may be in danger when he discovers the truth, but I have to trust that her name and title will keep her safe. She is the only logical match for him, and few Kings rise without a Queen.

  I know my duty. I must see that you live, and find a way to pass on all that you need to know. I will not fail you, my daughter.

  I swear it on who I am, and who you will become.

  9

  “This is the last one.” Steel Rygus took a knee so the boy, Edwin, could help him maneuver the unconscious man slung over his shoulder to the ground. ”He’s wounded, but alive.”

  “You’re still hurt yourself,” Edwin said, trying to take most of the man’s weight as they laid him beside the small fire. “You shouldn’t be carrying anyone.”

  “I’m all right,” Steel lied. The purple-black bruises on his wrist were clearly visible in the firelight, and his shoulder had not yet forgiven him for self-treating the violent dislocation a few days past. Better that than the alternative, though. “Can you help him?”

  Edwin pulled back the stranger’s bloody shirt, and grimaced. “Arrow’s still in there,” he frowned. “Part of it, anyway. Not recent. I’ll see what I can do. You’re sure he’s the last?”

  Steel nodded. He and the others - only a handful, most of them survivors of whatever had happened to Foley - had combed through the ruins of the city for the past three days in search of survivors. This man brought their number to nine, two of whom were still boys.

  “There’s no one else. Must have been some storm.”

  Edwin rummaged in his pack in search of herbs, setting several to one side. “They’re not all sure it was a storm,” he said. “Jensar said it was the magic users fighting back. Howe thinks he might have seen someone casting a spell or something.” He took a knife from his belt. “I’ve got to get this arrow out, can you keep him still?”

  Steel flexed his stiff, bruised right hand, frowned, then shifted to a crouch, resting his left hand on the wounded man’s chest and pinning the man’s good arm under one leg. “When you’re ready,” he said.

  The man cried out in pain as Edwin dug the arrowhead out of his flesh, but he remained unconscious even as his body struggled against Steel’s grip. Neither of them spoke until the metal was free of the man’s shoulder, and the smell of fresh blood filled their nostrils.

  Edwin handed Steel a cloth. “Put pressure on it?”

  Steel did.

  “I know who you are,” the boy said, not looking over. There was a long pause.

  “Steel Rygus,” the man said. “From Ravenglass.”

  The boy shook his head, focused on the task before him. “I meant I know who you really are. Your hair is different, but it’s you.”

  “So who am I?”

  Edwin began tearing the leaves of several different herbs between his fingers, making a small pile in his lap. “You’re Jovan Fisher.” He paused, but Steel said nothing. “You were favor
ed to win the tournament. My da said he bet on you.”

  “Your da?”

  Edwin shrugged. “He’s the blacksmith. Well, he was. Give me the cloth?”

  Edwin rinsed the entire shoulder, then soaked the cloth before wrapping it around the herbs and putting it back over the wound. “Pressure?” he asked.

  Steel took over again, keeping the bundled herbs pressed firmly against the man’s wound. “I’m sorry you lost your family,” he said. “I told you my name, same as I told the others. The ones who know different know to keep quiet.”

  “Oh.” Edwin sounded disappointed that his secret was … not one. “Why did you change your name?”

  “Duke Korith thinks I killed his son.” No sense lying to the boy.

  “Did you?” Edwin busied his hands tearing more cloth into strips and securing the poultice against the wounded man’s shoulder. He did not look up from the task.

  “No. Neither did my brother.”

  The boy looked over his shoulder at the other men, gathered around the campfire. “Which one is your brother?”

  “He’s dead. Korith’s men killed him.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but just because Kaeliph’s killer hadn’t worn Korith’s colors didn’t mean the Duke wasn’t responsible.

  Edwin remained quiet for a long time, understanding the pain in Steel’s voice. “I won’t say anything about who you are,” he finally said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Aellielle!” Without warning, the wounded man gasped, opened his eyes, and struggled to sit up. The motion drew a cry of pain from his lips.

  Steel was quick to press him back down. “Easy, friend. Easy.”

  The man blinked several times, looking from Steel to Edwin and back again. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  Edwin answered before Steel could speak. “This is Steel Rygus, of Ravenglass. I am Edwin. We’re camped just outside of Foley.”

  At the mention of Foley, the man’s eyes clouded with tears. The groan that escaped his lips held unmistakable sorrow.

  “You will live,” Edwin said, “though whether your arm will heal, I cannot tell. What is your name?”

  “I am Rhodoban,” the man said, and then more softly: “Just let me die.”

  Edwin looked to Steel, concerned.

  “The pain will ease in time,” Steel offered. “Though it may not feel so now. You’re lucky to be alive at all.”

  Rhodoban glared at the huge man who dared to call him lucky. “Foley,” he said. “Did any survive?”

  Steel answered honestly. “There are eight of us. Nine, with you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We’ve spent the past three days searching,” Steel said. “You’re the last.”

  Rhodoban closed his eyes, seeming even paler. “Then I have no reason to live,” he said.

  Edwin touched the man’s arm softly. “Who have you lost?”

  “My wife. My children. My life.” Rhodoban shifted uncomfortably, the pain in his shoulder almost eclipsing the pain in his heart.

  “Do you remember anything?” Steel asked. “We’ve tried to put together what happened, but no one really knows."

  Rhodoban was quiet for a moment. “Korith,” he finally said. “Or rather, his Chancellor. Attacked my home, the homes of my friends, dragged us into the streets, onto the fires—"

  Steel tightened his jaw, remembering Korith’s display in the Paltos arena. “You have magic, then?”

  Rhodoban nodded, his eyes still closed. “We all did. Not that it helped. Those of us that escaped the flames were cut down by archers, or soldiers. The last thing I remember is my Aellielle—" his voice choked off, and tears squeezed from his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Rhodoban,” Steel said. “Korith’s policies have taken too many good people. Your family. My brother. I intend to stop him, though I can’t do it alone. The others are with me. Live, friend, and aid us.”

  Edwin spoke up. “We’re going to Riverchill, where Derek is from. He says there are others there that will jump at the chance to stop what’s happening.”

  But Rhodoban ignored them. Days of searching. Nine survivors. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t have lost the twins, not his babies. They had been well hidden, and even if no one else had survived whatever destruction Korith had brought, surely Melody—

  A fresh wave of pain surged through him as a sob caught in his throat, and Rhodoban lost consciousness again.

  10

  “How, exactly, are you responsible, wife?” Jayden Korith had been beyond furious when he discovered Calder’s escape, but the twinge of pain behind his eye had only begun when Bethcelamin claimed it was her fault.

  “Jayden, I had no idea you had assigned him to something important. I never would have – it’s just that – Well, Bashara thinks so highly of him. I wanted someone I could trust.”

  “Trust for what, my love?” He tried to keep his voice even and steady.

  “I sent him to Paltos.”

  The Duke’s calm slipped. “By the Break, woman! Why would you send him there?”

  Bethcelamin stood straight with her hands folded in front of her, the picture of contrition. “I meant no harm, husband. I asked him to speak with the Captain there, to see if there was any news about Lucian—" Her voice caught. “His killers.”

  Korith rubbed at his temples, wondering if perhaps his lovely wife really was as mad as he claimed. He stepped close to her, taking her hands. “Dove, I told you - the Captain will send word if there is news. My own soldiers search the land. If anything is found, we will know. Do you remember me telling you that when we left Paltos?”

  Beth nodded. “It’s just that we had heard nothing in so long, Jayden. I wished to know where things stood, and you were not due home for weeks. I was … impulsive, and I’m sorry. But please, there is no need to punish the young man. He did only what I asked of him.”

  Korith released her cool hands, crossed the room, and sank into the padded leather of his chair with a deep sigh and a growing headache. “I must punish him, beloved, because to lay responsibility for this on you means your death. That is one order I will not give.”

  Bethcelamin’s eyes widened. “Death? Husband! What did I take him away from that was so important you must now kill him?” Unshed tears pooled against her lower lashes, and she began to wring her hands.

  “Your soldier told no one of your orders, Dove. He abandoned his post!”

  “I assured him I would tell his Captain,” Bethcelamin said, her face the picture of earnest regret. “But I was so anxious, Bashara brought me my tea. I forgot, Jayden, I’m so sorry to have caused any trouble.”

  Korith leaned forward in his chair, forcing himself to think despite the pain in his head. “Trouble?” What a mess she had made. “A murderer was in our dungeons, my love. A murderer…” He paused, finding the lie, “…responsible for the death of our son.”

  Yes, that would work. The shocked look on Beth’s face assured him he could make the story true in her mind. “I had him under constant watch,” he continued. “The man was incredibly violent, he had made threats against both of our lives.”

  Bethcelamin’s mouth had dropped open slightly, and she was shaking her head. “It can’t be…”

  Korith ignored her. He had the thread now and he wasn’t giving it up. He stood, beginning to pace.

  “The soldier you sent to Paltos was guarding the very man you wished to know about. Of course, you didn’t know. No one knew. Lothaedus was ordered to keep his identity concealed until I arrived home, and could deal with the murderer publicly. By the time anyone knew your errand boy had left his post, the prisoner was gone. It’s a miracle you’re safe. Who knows where he might be?”

  It was just the sort of lie Jayden would tell, Bethcelamin thought, hoping her disbelief wasn’t reflected in her face. It was impossible for her to disprove, because of course she could not tell Jayden she knew who the prisoner really was - let alone that she had sheltered him for weeks and aided in his escape not twelve hour
s before.

  She bowed her head. “I should have trusted you,” she said softly. “I didn’t know … Can you forgive me?”

  Korith came to a stop in front of her, taking her hands again. He tipped her chin upwards with their joined hands, searching her face. He did love her, he thought, looking down into her dark eyes and squeezing her cool, fragile fingers. He loved her scent and how softly her hair shone, he even loved her foolish tender heart.

  If only she had never met Solus, or given birth to that wretched witch-child. How different things might have been… His jaw tightened.

  “Haven’t I always forgiven you, my dove? But our son’s killer is loose again, and someone must be held responsible. Better that soldier than you.” He pulled her into the circle of his arms, and tucked her head under his chin.

  Bethcelamin allowed herself to be cuddled, but her mind was racing behind her closed eyes. There had to be some way to protect the young man, and she intended to find it.

  A sharp knock at the door made Korith flinch— the pain was still growing behind his eyes, and the sound hurt. He released his wife, rubbing again at his temples. “Come,” he called.

  Louis entered, bowing to Bethcelamin before speaking. “My Lord. Your Chancellor has returned. He is … injured.” The gravity of the situation was clearly reflected in his expression and tone.

  Korith headed for the door. “Wait here for me, wife.”

  Bethcelamin caught his sleeve. Her husband must have sent the repugnant man after her daughter, she could think of no other reason, and she did not want to miss whatever message the Chancellor might have returned with.

  “Please, let me come. My grandmother had a way with injured animals, and she passed some of her wisdom to me. Perhaps I may be able to help in some way.”

  He started to disagree, but at Louis’ nearly imperceptible nod, Korith swallowed the protest. “I’m sure he will be glad of your care,” he said, taking her hand.

  Together they followed Louis to the Chancellor’s personal chambers and stepped inside. The light was dim, but they could clearly see the man in the bed. Bethcelamin’s knees went weak. Her husband’s intake of breath matched her own. The Chancellor was barely recognizable.