Chapter Eighteen

 

 

Av wandered the hallways, unable to focus on any one thing. He had gone out to the training yard to check on Aren’s progress, but she ignored him. Even Wena, who was usually aware of every lord and servant who came close to them, had been engrossed in her lesson. After watching them for quite some time, he had morosely returned to the palace, unable to continue watching someone who was unaware he existed.

Surely the training was over by then. Enough time had passed. All he had to do was go and ask for an audience, no—a sitting, no…

What was it called when one wanted to have a social conversation with the one who sat the throne?

He hadn’t been brought up to play nicely at court. His mother had never intended that he should be linked to the throne. If she had, then surely he would have received the same training Jer had on etiquette at court. Instead he had received a less formal sort of training on how to handle queens, just as any warrior received.

Though other warriors simply seemed to know what to do around Aren, while Av was suddenly stumbling. Things were simple before she took the throne. He had known where he stood and she, well, she hadn’t known where she stood but at least the pair of them were able to communicate instead of being shunned to the shadows and unable to even be alone together. And why?

Why, he asked himself.

Because he was standing in the middle of a hallway ranting silently to himself like a madman.

Av drew in a breath and tried to calm his mind. Hole or not, Aren could feel strong emotions from across the palace. Near as any of them could tell, she hadn’t reacted to any of the moods that had swung through the commoners. No one had been in a rage or a fit yet, and no one dared let their emotions get the best of them.

Em had once chastised those who felt strongly while at court, while encouraging those she claimed as her ladies. No one really knew where Aren would stand on the matter.

Another breath and he felt a little more stable. In a month, at most, he and Aren would be mated and the whole thing would be behind them.

But has she said who she’s mating yet?

Av jerked around, looking for the person who dared to sneak up on him. There was no one there, but the whispering continued, just a little too low for him to hear the words. He followed the sound, hoping to get close enough to hear what was being said. Around the corner, he came stalk still and face-to-face with Rewel.

The other man stared back at him, then smiled slowly and raised a bloody dagger.

“Wasn’t hard to slit her throat.”

Av bellowed and slammed Rewel into a wall. He heard his name shouted from down the hallway but ignored it. Rewel laughed at him.

The bastard actually laughed!

He was ripped away from his target and all but tossed to the floor. A body stepped between him and Rewel. Av bared his teeth and growled.

Blue eyes narrowed to pinpricks, looking him up and down. A calm in the storm of emotions filling the hall. Anger, hatred, fear, sorrow. Av groaned and put a hand to his head.

“Do you often go about attacking servants in the hallways?” the stranger asked.

The emotions faded, but Av couldn’t shake the feeling that those had not been his emotions, and that had not been his skill at work. He didn’t have magic, had never accessed the magic of the throne. He had no knowledge of working such a feat.

“Never mind that, I know where to get the answer.” A strong hand dragged Av to his feet and towards the wall. There was a female yelp. “I will drag you there, girl. One way or another this needs to be dealt with now. Come along.”

He was dragged to the queen’s rooms, which were not as far off as he thought they were. A startled Wena was just letting the tailor out of the room as the stranger shoved Av in and pulled the servant in behind him.

Aren was warming herself by the fire. She turned at Wena’s protest, looking over all three before she shuddered to a stop on the man. There was a deathly silence in the room as the two stared at one another.

“You must be the high lord of the South,” Aren said quietly.

The high lord of the South was Lerd Savel, a good friend of Ervam's. Av had practically grown up in Lerd's shadow. The older warrior was considered the pinnacle of his bloodline. Broad, tall, with the bright blond hair and deep blue eyes that were only ever found in his bloodline.

Telm's eyes were icy blue, but Lerd's had often been described as the blue of a summer sky shortly before a storm.

Women trembled before him; men decided to try their own for him.

And Av had just inadvertently introduced the man to Aren.

“And you must be the chit who sits the throne,” the high lord purred with approval. “I found Av here attacking a servant. Now the Av I knew from my time at court wouldn’t attack a woman, let alone a servant, so I’ve come bearing a question. Has he done this before?”

Aren was quiet a moment as Av begged her silently not to answer. Lerd was the type of warrior who, once upon a time, picked fights with Ervam for a laugh. The trainer had even permitted the warrior to attack him and encouraged it. There were ten years between Av and Lerd, which put Lerd at that awkward age between both Ervam and Av where the warrior could have been friend to either of them.

Everything Lerd did made Av feel inadequate. When Em had all but banished him to the South Av had actually been relieved.

“He struck me once, but I struck him first,” Aren said finally.

“Which means this behaviour is not usual,” Lerd said, turning to the door.

Av turned to watch the empty door. A moment later Jer strode in and pulled to a sudden stop when his eyes laid on Lerd. For the barest second, Jer looked like he was going to run, which was the wrong thing to do to a warrior of Lerd’s temperament.

Even Av knew that.

“Lerd.”

“Jer.”

“It would seem Av attacked a servant,” Aren said.

“Why?” Jer asked, looking baffled, turning to Av for an answer.

He couldn’t give one, not without making Aren think him mad. She’d never mate a madman. He’d be committed to the healer hall permanently and then where would he be? Caged, unable to feel the sun on his face? He wasn’t mad, anyhow. Just a little out of his mind.

“He’s been acting off since Rewel,” Aren said to Jer over Av. “Had he ever killed a man before that?”

“Well, yes, but not like that,” Jer said, then turned to Lerd. “We can discuss that later, obviously. Well, this is your find, Lerd. What do you want?”

“I want warrior’s justice. He attacked a servant.”

Jer looked around Lerd, to Aren. Av turned to her and she frowned back at him before focusing on Jer.

“What is warrior’s justice? I’ve never heard of this before.”

“The night Av and I went out to the forest, right before you met our father, was warrior’s justice. It’s when warriors come together to make a judgement based on the needs of many versus the one, or to discipline a warrior who is out of line.”

“Why has no one mentioned this to me before?” Aren asked with an edge to her voice.

“Because warriors keep it to themselves,” Jer said, shifting uncomfortably. “Sometimes the justice that is doled out is the cost of an innocent life for the good of the many.”

“Oh,” Aren said, becoming stiff. The life seemed to drain from her face as she looked at Jer. “I am aware of that portion, though a name was not put to it. You might see my concern.”

“I can make no promises. That is why it is called warrior’s justice. It is up to, and on, a warrior to decide. The only one who might interfere with this is a trainer, but on our honour, we are bound to do as is just. You know how we want honour brought into court, Aren. Sometimes that means that a punishment seems unfair, or too harsh, but it’s not the commoners we answer to when we do this, it is the spirits.”

“Is there another way?” Aren asked.

“According to palace law he would pay blood coin to the servant for her suffering.”

Aren swore. “She’s a servant, so I cannot allow that. Even if I could handle what Telm would do to me for allowing such a thing, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself for fining him. It’s one thing to fine a man for hurting guards in their duties to attack him, it’s quite another to dole the same punishment for the same man who attacked an innocent in the hallway.”

“Those are the two options, Lady Aren. Blood coin, or warrior’s justice.”

“And there’s nothing I can say to—”

“No, Aren. If you were to alter my decision, then it would not be proper justice. I must judge him as my rank would judge a stranger. To do otherwise is to sign for my own death. Because if Av doesn’t do it once his feet are under him, you damned well know the barons would. Or Url. Or Lerd. Goodness, Telm might even do it for a giggle at this point.”

“Fine, do it your way.”

“I understand your concern is only the death portion of the justice,” Jer said steadily, likely for the benefit of the servant, so that the girl wouldn't think that Aren wanted Av to get off lightly. “But you asked what it means, so I told you what it could mean.”

It kind of hurt, that Aren wasn't trying to get Av off without discipline. She could have at least pretended she cared.

“And I appreciate that you understand my concern,” Aren said through gritted teeth. “I hope you understand how difficult this is for me.”

“I do. I will take him now to my father.”

“I will come with you,” Lerd said.

“Absolutely not!” Aren exclaimed to Lerd, causing the man to stiffen. “Lord Lerd, your loyalty is questionable at best and until I know just where that loyalty lies and how far your honour can be stretched, you will judge absolutely no one on my land. Do I make myself clear?”

Lerd was silent a long moment. “Perfectly.”