Quintana of Charyn Read online

‘Then good.’ Lord Tascan thumped Lucian on the back heartily. ‘It’s settled. No need to rush into anything formal just yet. But we’ll expect you for supper when you visit for market day. You can stay the night in the palace. I’m sure the Queen will enjoy seeing a beloved cousin. Perhaps there will be an invitation for my family to join you.’

  Lucian forced a smile. Lord Tascan had waited a month. Not to talk hogs and mutton. But to talk unwed daughters. How could Lucian have been so stupid not to notice?

  After a long goodbye the guests departed, demanding promises he would come visit them, and Lucian returned home. From where he stood outside his cottage, he could see Lord Tascan’s people disappearing down the mountain trail and he felt nothing but great relief. Since Phaedra’s death, his cottage had become his refuge. Sometimes he imagined her there beside him. She had once told Lucian that she liked how high his home sat on the mountain, overlooking the other cottages and farms. She had loved the dips and slopes of the land in the distance, the smoke that came from Orly’s home, and the sight of Miro’s herd of sheep on a neighbouring property.

  ‘It’s a pity you can’t see it all from inside,’ he heard her say. ‘Windows would give you the greatest view all around.’

  ‘Why would I want to see more of everyone?’ he said. ‘Then they’d never leave me alone. The walls blocking out the mountain work just fine for me, Phaedra. It means I don’t have to see the sadness of their faces now that you’re gone.’

  He spoke aloud to her often. This is what he was reduced to. Speaking to the ghosts of his father and his wife.

  He was about to walk inside his cottage when he saw the horses travelling up the trail from the village of Balconio. Was it Lord Tascan returning? Lucian would have to hide, if so. But then he realised it was the Queen’s Guard and, fearing the worst, Lucian walked down the path back to Yata’s compound and waited for their arrival. As they ventured closer, he saw his cousin Isaboe amongst them. They were usually forewarned that she would be staying so that Yata could organise her quarters. But he also knew that sometimes his cousin craved to be with her mother’s kin, because no one fussed over Isaboe like Yata and the aunts. She was still their little Mont girl despite being Queen of them all.

  When she arrived with Jasmina and the Guard, he helped her dismount and they embraced. She seemed to want to hold on a moment longer and he let her. He took Jasmina from one of her other guards, Moss, and placed the imp on his shoulders.

  ‘Should you be riding?’ he asked Isaboe.

  ‘I’m with child, Lucian,’ she said dryly. ‘Not dying. And I’m actually on my way down to the valley.’

  ‘What?’ Lucian asked, stunned, looking up at her guard Aldron, who grimaced.

  ‘I’d appreciate you talking the Queen out of doing that, Lucian,’ Aldron said.

  ‘And I’d appreciate you both not talking about me as if I’m invisible,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘Did the Queen of this kingdom just roll her eyes?’

  ‘She’s been doing it all the way up the mountain,’ Aldron muttered.

  ‘And still you’re talking about me as if I’m not present!’ she said.

  Lucian exchanged a look with Moss. No one seemed to like the idea of Isaboe travelling to the valley.

  ‘Stop doing that! All of you,’ she said firmly.

  Lucian held up a hand in surrender.

  ‘If this is about your fight with Finn –’

  Aldron was shaking his head at Lucian in warning.

  ‘My conversations with your beloved friend are of no one’s business,’ she said.

  ‘How come Finnikin’s my beloved friend whenever you fight and he’s your beloved husband all other times?’

  Isaboe stared at him, unamused. ‘Take me to the valley, Lucian, or I’ll have Aldron here relay the conversation I just had with Lord Tascan as we passed each other. The one where he suggests an invitation to the palace next time you’re in town. With his daughter in attendance.’

  Lucian sighed. Isaboe would do it to spite him.

  ‘Moss, can you take Jasmina to Yata and tell her we’ll be staying the night?’ she said, taking Jasmina’s little fingers and kissing each and every one of them. ‘I’m off to see Tesadora. I’ve not seen her for such a while.’

  ‘Then I’ll send Jory to fetch her,’ Lucian said. Moss and Aldron nodded, liking the idea. ‘Tesadora can eat with us on the mountain tonight.’

  ‘No,’ his cousin insisted. ‘Tesadora’s not one for fetching and I want to surprise her.’

  Lucian insisted that Isaboe share his mount. Yata spoke often about the babe arriving at the end of spring. When Jasmina was born, the kingdom was in a state of euphoria for months. Lucian couldn’t bear the idea of the horses getting skittish and something happening to the Queen.

  They rode down the mountain with Aldron and two of the other guards. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed his cousin’s company and how little time they had spent together lately. After sharing family gossip, they spoke of market day in the palace village and Lord Tascan.

  ‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘Lady Zarah trills. Finnikin used to flirt with her when he’d visit the Osterian court during his exile.’

  ‘Yes, but that was before he met you.’

  ‘I overheard Finnikin once telling Sir Topher that Lady Zarah’s voice was a soothing sound.’

  ‘Hmm, soothing voices are in decline on the mountain … and in the palace, the way I hear it,’ Lucian said. He peered over his shoulder for her reaction.

  Isaboe’s eyes narrowed. ‘If I had the power to make anyone in this kingdom mute, I’d begin with her trilling voice,’ she said. ‘Nothing soothing about it. She speaks softly so men can step closer to ask her to speak again.’

  ‘You’re mean,’ he laughed.

  ‘It’s true,’ she protested. ‘The first time Jasmina heard her voice she held her hands to her ears and cried.’

  He reached back and poked her side with a finger and they both laughed again. But the closer they came to the valley, the more silent they became. He knew he would never speak the words out loud to her, but he had been disappointed that she hadn’t acknowledged Phaedra as his wife. After her death, Isaboe had sent her condolences, but Lucian wished that she had come to know Phaedra in life.

  When they reached the point on the mountain where they could see the first glimpse of the Charynites in their caves, he heard her sigh.

  ‘What are we going to do about this valley, Lucian? If it’s true that Alonso has refused to send grain, I can’t take food from my own people to feed an enemy.’

  ‘Perhaps … they could fertilise the land and grow more of their own,’ he said. ‘I’ve only allowed them a small patch, but they could grow much more along the stream and between the caves.’

  Hadn’t that been Phaedra’s idea?

  ‘Do you know how we fertilised Kasabian’s vegetable patch?’ Phaedra had asked him with delight one time when they were travelling back up to the mountain. ‘We climbed to the higher caves and carved holes for the pigeons to … you know.’

  ‘No,’ he had said, pretending ignorance. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘So they can … you know.’

  ‘So they can shit.’

  ‘Well, I would have put it more delicately.’

  ‘Trust me, Phaedra. There’s no delicate way to shit. It evens out the entire land. Humans and other creatures. Queens and peasants.’

  ‘Then we collect the pigeon … droppings and mix them with the water and soil, and that’s how we fertilise our garden,’ she said proudly.

  It’s what he told Isaboe, without mentioning Phaedra.

  ‘People who plant gardens and vegetable patches become part of the land, Lucian,’ Isaboe said. ‘We can’t have them forming an attachment. It means they’ll never go.’

  At her campsite on the Lumateran side of the stream, Tesadora was boiling a broth that smelt too repulsive to be considered dinner. She was surprised to see them, but held out her arms to Isaboe.<
br />
  ‘Stomach upsets in the valley,’ she said. She looked suspiciously at Aldron and the guards as they began searching the area.

  ‘If you’re so worried about the dangers, why bring her down here?’ she snapped.

  ‘Don’t talk about her as if she’s not here, Tesadora,’ Lucian said.

  But no one seemed in a mood to jest.

  ‘You know they won’t risk crossing the stream,’ Tesadora said, irritation in her voice and still watching Aldron and the guard. She returned her attention to Isaboe and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘You look tired, beloved.’

  ‘I’m not sleeping too well these nights.’

  ‘I can imagine why,’ Tesadora said. ‘Your husband’s an idiot. Have I not told you that many times?’

  Isaboe laughed, but Lucian could see worry in her eyes.

  ‘I sent for you, Tesadora, but you mustn’t have received my notes.’

  ‘Circumstances have been strange here since …’

  Tesadora sighed, looking at Lucian.

  Since Phaedra. Since Vestie travelled down a mountain on her own in the early hours of the morning. Since a strange, savage girl took up residence in their valley.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about the sleep,’ Isaboe said.

  Tesadora looked perplexed. ‘You still walk the sleep? But you’ve not bled. And I’ve not walked it with you.’

  ‘It’s odd,’ Isaboe admitted. ‘Vestie walks it, too. Not alongside me. It’s as if we walk our own.’

  Tesadora was unnerved by the news, her beautiful face creased with worry.

  ‘I’ll come up the mountain with you tonight and we’ll make a strong brew to ease those jitters,’ she promised.

  Tesadora extinguished the fire under her pot and Lucian helped her pack up.

  ‘I want to meet the girl, Tesadora,’ Lucian heard Isaboe say. He watched Tesadora freeze.

  ‘Vestie says she’s a Charynite with no place to go,’ Isaboe continued. ‘That she’s frightened of her own people.’

  ‘She’s no one,’ Lucian said. ‘Just a stray who doesn’t want to be in the presence of Donashe and his cutthroats, if you ask me.’

  Tesadora covered the pot. ‘They’re arriving from all over these days,’ she said dismissively. ‘Ever since the events in their capital. The girl can look after herself. You three,’ she said to the guards, pointing to her pots and jars. ‘Make yourselves useful and put these in my tent.’

  ‘And what if she can’t look after herself, Tesadora?’ Isaboe continued. ‘What if there’s something I can do for her? All those people in the valley, waiting for my permission to climb this mountain. Perhaps she’s the one. She is on her own with no kin. Take me to her, Tesadora. We’ll ease her fear.’

  Lucian looked at Tesadora. As strange as the girl was, perhaps it was the first step. He liked the idea, but suddenly preferred that the conversation take place on the mountain and not down here in the valley.

  ‘Let’s get this over and done with,’ he said finally. ‘I want us all in Yata’s house by the time the sun disappears. Lead the way, Tesadora.’

  Tesadora was reluctant, but finally she agreed.

  ‘I don’t want the girl frightened,’ she said, looking at the Guard. ‘Lucian and Aldron only. The others can stay here.’

  They travelled half a mile downstream. It made Lucian wonder how much contact Tesadora had made with the mad girl since they had encountered her the morning Vestie went missing.

  ‘We don’t even know her name, Tesadora,’ Aldron muttered. ‘If I get a blasting from Finn and Trevanion and Perri over this, I’ll blame you.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’m trembling at the thought,’ Tesadora said, but Lucian could hear the strangeness in her voice.

  They passed the tree where they first found the girl with Vestie. Further downstream, shafts of light forced their way between tall pines. It was here that they found the girl on her haunches, close to one of the trees, with a blanket wrapped around her body that Lucian recognised as one of Tesadora’s. She was scrounging for something in the dirt and he could see that at least she was eating well, looking rounded and full-figured. When she heard the crunch of the pine needles under their feet, she stumbled to stand, her eyes wide with alarm.

  Tesadora stepped forward, holding out a hand to quell her fears, but the girl’s eyes fastened on Isaboe. Lucian saw a snarl curling her lips and then heard the bloodcurdling sound. Aldron stepped forward, a hand to his sword.

  ‘We won’t hurt you,’ Tesadora called out meaningfully, for Aldron’s ears as much as the girl’s. ‘Step back, Aldron. You’re frightening her.’

  Aldron refused to move. The girl seemed poised to lunge.

  ‘Step back, Aldron.’ Isaboe repeated Tesadora’s words. Reluctantly, Aldron did as he was told. Isaboe approached slowly, tentatively, and the girl stumbled back.

  ‘Your Majesty!’ Aldron warned. Isaboe held up a hand, stepping closer and closer to the girl. Neither spoke, but there was a tension in the air that unnerved Lucian. He looked at Tesadora and when she refused to meet his eye, he knew something was wrong. And then it happened quickly, the speed of it stunning them all. Isaboe’s hand snaked out and pushed the girl against the closest trunk, her fingers clenched around the Charynite’s throat.

  ‘Give me your sword, Aldron,’ his queen ordered, her voice so cold.

  ‘Isaboe,’ Tesadora hissed. ‘Let her go. You’re hurting her.’

  ‘Aldron,’ Isaboe repeated. ‘Give me your sword.’

  ‘What’s happening here?’ Lucian demanded. Aldron unsheathed his weapon and placed it in Isaboe’s hand. In an instant his cousin had the blade pressed under the girl’s chin.

  ‘Isaboe, let her go!’ Tesadora cried, stepping forward, but Aldron held her back.

  Lucian couldn’t see Isaboe’s face, but he saw the girl’s expression. With the blade to her neck, she was petrified. He reached out a hand to Isaboe’s shoulder, but she shrugged it away.

  ‘I was one of five children,’ she said, speaking Charyn to the girl. ‘I want you to know that before you die. I want you to know their names. Evestalina. Rosemond. Jasmina. Balthazar. My mother’s name was Tilda. My father’s name was Carles. On the day he died, my brother Balthazar got in trouble for lying about breaking a vase in the reading room. My father said he was ashamed of him and so my brother went to his death thinking he had lost the King’s respect.’

  Lucian heard her voice break.

  ‘My sister Rosemond … we called her Rosie, she carved her name on the cherry-tree trunk in my mother’s garden, declaring her love for one of my father’s guards who later died in the prison mines of Sorel. I want you to think of them when you’re choking on your own blood, Quintana of Charyn.’

  Lucian’s pulse pounded to hear the name. Aldron stared at him, having no idea of the Queen’s plan.

  ‘Isaboe!’ Tesadora said, her voice desolate. ‘Do not do this. It will break your spirit.’

  With her hand still pressed against the girl’s throat and the weapon still in place, Isaboe looked back at Tesadora.

  ‘My spirit was broken long ago, Tesadora. And it was broken again yesterday when Vestie told me about your deceit. While I was begging you to come spend time with me, you were playing nursemaid to the daughter of the man who ordered my family’s slaughter.’

  Isaboe turned back to the girl. ‘Did you think you could find refuge in my valley, filthy Charynite?’

  Tesadora struggled in Aldron’s arms. Lucian knew that nothing would stop the Queen. Wasn’t this exactly what Finnikin and Trevanion and Perri were doing in Charyn? Wasn’t this something they all had sanctioned?

  But it was horror Lucian felt when he saw Isaboe raise the blade to strike. The girl’s scream was hoarse and full of rage and fear. The sound of it would ring in Lucian’s ears for days to come. And just as Isaboe went to use the sword, something came flying out at them from the copse of trees.

  ‘No!’

  The voice made his knees almo
st buckle.

  Phaedra?

  Lucian watched, stunned, as Phaedra threw herself at Isaboe. And then it all happened so fast and he did what he was taught to do in battle … when his queen was under attack. He acted on instinct. Lucian didn’t hesitate. Not for a single moment. His father’s sword was in his hand, pressed against the throat of his wife. He knew he’d kill anyone who was a threat to his queen. He knew he would kill Phaedra of Alonso. But Phaedra was on her knees gripping the blade of Isaboe’s sword and pressing it to her own chest. Lucian could see its sharpness cutting into his wife’s hands. Until they dripped with blood.

  ‘Kill me,’ she pleaded, her head pressed against Isaboe’s knees. ‘I’m begging, Your Majesty. Kill me. Please. If you want to avenge anyone, kill me. I’m a lastborn and daughter of a Provincaro. Ride through Charyn and take every lastborn girl to exact your revenge. But not her, Your Majesty. Charyn will cease to exist without her. We are nothing without the babe she carries.’

  Lucian watched Isaboe shudder. Even Tesadora was speechless at the sight of Phaedra.

  ‘They don’t stay dead, these Charynites, do they?’ he heard Isaboe say, her voice so foreign to him. Compared to all the battles or deaths or sieges Lucian had ever witnessed, this was different. He swore later that the air changed, that there were spirits at play. That the Charyn gods and the Goddess herself were damning Lucian for the blade he held. Damning them all. And then suddenly Isaboe stepped away, letting go of Quintana of Charyn and pulling free of Phaedra.

  ‘Get out of my valley,’ Isaboe said. ‘Before I change my mind and slice you in half as your father’s assassin did my mother!’

  Lucian lowered his sword and stumbled back. Without hesitation, Phaedra gripped the girl’s hand and they ran for their lives, disappearing through the trees.

  For moments all he heard was the sound of their own ragged breaths, but Lucian knew it wasn’t over yet. Phaedra was alive. He had held a sword to her throat while she knelt, begging for another’s mercy, her hands drenched with blood. He thought that the difference between he and Isaboe was that his love for a Charynite had sometimes made him forget. And he despised himself for it. He had forgotten the way Balthazar had died. His cousins. His aunt. His king and his father.