Baiyren took a last look at Regan before making his way to the far end of the castle’s grand foyer. Eventually, he reached a bank of elevators and stopped at a solitary door. A guard sat at a desk to the left. He dipped his head at Baiyren, pressed a button on the polished console, and kept his eyes on the hallway as the door before him opened. Baiyren gave the guard a curt smile and, one halting step at a time, walked into the elevator.
A low chime told him he’d reached his father’s floor. He waited for the elevator to open and walked out, his legs heavy, his stomach a lead weight in his body. The arched ceiling above leaned over him like a reaper’s shadow. Lost in thought, he stalked down the corridor until he came to a second guard who snapped to attention as he approached. Baiyren barely saw him. His eyes remained on the door that swung into the room beyond. He had so many good memories of those chambers: playing hide-and-seek with his parents, celebrating birthdays and holidays and feasts. Those days were gone now, forever lost to the tragedy of growing up.
Sighing again, he cleared his head and went in. High-domed and as wide as most houses, the king’s apartment took up the entire floor. Windows climbed from hidden casements in the sienna marble walls and ended near the ceiling in arches that made them look like blunt spears. A stone desk stood in the middle of the room, chairs opposite. To the right, tall bookcases ran from one end of the room to the other, sofas, chaises, and an ornate rug accenting them. The king’s bed, four-posted and canopied, occupied a space to his right, where, as far as he remembered, other furniture once stood.
Baiyren drew a deep but ineffective breath and walked to where his father’s emaciated figure lay beneath a thick cover of blankets. King Toscan Tallaenaq had always been a great bear of a man, and still was when Baiyren last saw him. Now, he looked like a pile of bones someone wired together and papered with ancient parchment. The once-muscular frame had all but dissolved. Wisps of white hair clung to his head the way sparse mountain grass desperately sought purchase. His cheeks were gaunt and hollow, and only his silvery eyes still held life. Bright and sharp, they misted when they fell on Baiyren.
“Baiyren!” The king beamed at him, his voice too strong for his frail body. “You came home.”
As if Baiyren had a choice. He didn’t recall Regan offering one, and even if she had, Kaidan’s forces negated it. The taking of both Juno and Keiko decided things for him; he couldn’t leave them with Kaidan.
Grabbing one of the chairs near the desk, he dragged it to the bed and sat. “Father? What’s happened to you?”
“Mortality,” the king snorted. “Or so the doctors tell me.”
“Are you in pain? What can I do?”
A wistful smile played at the king’s pale lips. He lifted his hand and cradled the back of Baiyren’s head. “You’re here. That’s enough.”
His grip was still strong, his palm warm and firm. If Baiyren closed his eyes, he could almost deny the sickness. He wanted to, and not just to have his father whole and well. A strong, healthy king absolved Baiyren’s royal responsibilities. Higo wouldn’t need a successor. Not for many years. The king’s grave condition changed that.
Baiyren almost felt Higo reaching out to shackle him. “Do they know the cause?” he asked. “Your doctors, I mean.”
“Of course not. No one gets sick on Higo. They’ve never seen anything like it.” He stroked Baiyren’s hair one last time and lowered his hand. “Kaidan said God would punish me for what I did. Maybe he’s right.”
Baiyren let that pass. “I trust the doctors weren’t the only ones looking into your illness,” he said, changing the subject.
The king nodded. “Regan and the Nan-jii both looked into it. They vetted every cook and servant in the castle and tested the food and the water; they even sampled the air. They were very thorough.”
“The answer’s here somewhere,” Baiyren insisted. “Miko benefits more than anyone else. She’s been working toward this since she first met Kaidan.”
“None of that matters now,” his father said. “I’m dying, and no one can stop it. I need to focus on what’s really important.”
“Nothing’s more important than getting you well again. You need to focus on that. The rest can wait.”
“It’s waited long enough!” Color flooded the king’s cheeks. “I knew you’d blame yourself for what happened, and I wanted to tell you, as a father – as a man – that it wasn’t your fault. Stop punishing yourself. Your mother wouldn’t want you to live like this.”
“She shouldn’t have died then!” Baiyren cringed at his childishness. He lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Of course you did, and you’re right. Unfortunately, being right doesn’t change anything.”
The sharp rap of knuckles on a side door interrupted them; three taps, a pause, and then two more. A hidden panel slid back, and a rippling distortion in the air stalked toward them.
Nan-jii, Baiyren thought. Only the king’s intelligence network was allowed to use that entrance. He sat back and waited for the shape to cross the floor. The rippling bowed but the man didn’t remove his reflective clothing.
“Word from Haven, your majesty,” a voice said, deep, confident, and richly timbered. “The Riders landed in Tsurmak yesterday. They brought two women with them.” The shape shifted, and Baiyren felt its gaze land on him. “One wears the Heartstone.”
Baiyren’s heart lurched. Juno. “Are they all right?”
“Both are fine, my prince.” The Nan-jii bowed again, this time at Baiyren. “They dined with the high priestess and Kaidan last night. Apparently, Haven granted them diplomatic status. The women are living in the ambassador’s suite.”
“That won’t last. They’ll use Juno against me, just like they used Mother.” Baiyren looked at his father. “I have to go.”
The old man stiffened. His hand whipped out, grasped the front of Baiyren’s shirt, and dragged him down. “You know what Miko’s trying to do.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Baiyren said, trying to free himself. “Those women are my responsibility; I need to free them before it’s too late.”
“Too late? It’s already too late. Why do you think Miko targets the people we love most?”
Baiyren frowned. “I don’t know. To hurt us, I guess. She’ll do whatever she can to seize power.”
“I thought so too, but it’s more than that.” The king released Baiyren’s arm and shook his head. “According to the Zhoku our Lord came to Higo to escape the war that killed his wife. Miko’s reenacting that war and using our loved ones against us. The closer the person is, the greater the pain. It started with Kaidan, then your mother, and now the woman you care about. Don’t look so surprised. I may be sick, but I’m still the king.” He reached for a glass of water beside the bed, sipped, and continued. “Higo was supposed to be God’s refuge, his place to heal. The high priestess is taking that away from him. She thinks it will force him to end his exile.”
“To deal with his misguided children.” A chill swept through Baiyren. Was his father right? It didn’t seem possible. He bent to take his father’s glass when a slight warming bloomed on his chest.
Dazed, he tugged at the lanyard, and a strip of luminescent plastic tumbled out of his shirt. He looked at it in amazement, then in anger. “Have you changed your routine? The cooks, the staff? Have you gotten any gifts? Think, Father; this is important.” The meter registered a small amount of radioactive material. Not enough to harm without direct skin contact.
The king frowned, affronted. “Of course I haven’t! The Nan-jii check everything.”
A distortion in the air by the desk drew close. “What about the Royal Stone?” the intelligence officer asked. “The one the priests gave you to replace the Heartstone?”
The king’s frown deepened. “What’s this about, Baiyren?”
Baiyren held up the card. “This is a radiation detector; it changes color, if you’ve been exposed. Right now, it’s showing low-level radiation.”
Hands shaking, the king pulled a dark stone from his shirt. He looked at the space where the Nan-jii stood. “I sent this to the royal jewelers late last year,” he said slowly. “The clasp needed repair; it wouldn’t stay closed, and I didn’t want to lose it.”
The hiss of sharp breath came from the Nan-jii. “I need to report this to our leader,” he said.
The king stared at Baiyren. “How did you know?”
“Because I know Miko.” Baiyren’s body tightened. “You didn’t come down with an illness; this was deliberate. The church has poisoned you.”