THE DANGER OF KINGS

“The danger of—?” Karigan faltered.

“I saw how King Zachary looked at you,” Lady Clary said. “It is obvious to at least me that there is rapport between the two of you. Perhaps more. I admire all that I’ve heard of you just this night. Not just a messenger, but knighted, and a hero of some repute. Both King Zachary and Colonel Mapstone were glowing in their comments about you. I also see that you are a grown woman, but still young, and perhaps not as sophisticated in regards to the world in which kings and queens inhabit.”

“I’m sorry, Countess, but I don’t really have time for—”

Lady Clary placed her hand on Karigan’s wrist. “Please hear me out. I do not mean to criticize, but to help. You see, I have been around influential people my whole life. Not just influential, mind, but the ruling class. Our King Zachary is a good and just ruler, but you should know that people who wield such power can change on a whim. One moment you are their favored servant, and then the next? One should never forget kings are above us all and it is they who make the rules over which we, their servants, must abide. Kings can turn on one without provocation no matter how much we are presumed a friend or are favored.”

Zachary, Karigan thought, was not like that. “If that is all—”

“No,” Lady Clary said. “There is more. You should also know that those held close by a king are also targets. They are in danger from others jealous of his attention, or wanting something from him, or those suspicious of the undue influence a favored servant may bring. It is even more dangerous if it is feared one may supplant the queen’s position.”

Karigan was horrified. What had brought Lady Clary to say such things? Had anything she said, or had been said by Zachary, caused the countess to draw certain conclusions? No, she thought, not what had been said, precisely, but what had been done. She’d been out of it when she was brought to Lady Clary’s house. Using the travel device so many times had depleted her, and then one of the constables had hit her over the head. A very dim memory came back to her of being carried up to her room, of being held in arms that made her feel safe, protected. The next she remembered was Zachary sitting beside her as she lay on the bed, concern and, yes, love, in his eyes. And Lady Clary had seen it all.

She glanced down at Zachary’s coat draped over her arm. It wasn’t just anyone who had offered their coat to keep her warm while she stood wrapped in only a towel out in the square. No, it had been Zachary, king of Sacoridia.

Oh, dear. Aloud, she said, “You don’t think—”

“It does not matter what I think. It is what others may perceive. Cemeteries are filled with the remains of those who were not cautious in their dealings with kings. You head off to battle this night, but also, every moment others suspect the king’s favor of you, you are in danger. In their minds, they presume favoritism and access equate with undue power. The royal court is a different kind of battlefield. I hope you accept my words out of friendship as no malice is intended. I just do not wish to see you hurt, and appearances have been the undoing of many a good soul.”

Karigan did not know what to say, so she stammered her thanks and a farewell to Lady Clary, collected the pouch and Duncan, and headed out into the night, attempting to absorb Lady Clary’s words.

“Got a real lecture, didn’t you,” Duncan said. “So, are you the king’s favored mistress?”

She turned on him. “You heard our conversation? And NO, I am not.”

“My hearing as a projection is actually more acute than if I were corporeal.”

She would have to remember that. Lady Clary’s words filled her mind. No, she could never believe Zachary would turn on her. He wasn’t like that. Power had not corrupted him. The rest, however, she could believe, the petty jealousies of others wanting the access and favor for themselves. Her own life had already been in danger because of this. Before the Blackveil expedition, Estora’s cousin, a courtier, had believed she would interfere with the impending marriage between Zachary and Estora. He’d gone so far as to send an assassin with the expedition to kill her. Clan Coutre had had much to lose if the marriage failed to go through.

She tried to shake off Lady Clary’s warning, and put her mind to the task at hand. To her wonder, she found the square full of Green Riders tightening girths, mounting up, and digging into saddlebags. There were several cheery, “Hello, Karigan!” greetings. Lanterns and street lamps gleamed on the cuirasses and helms each Rider wore. Softfeather and Ripaeria were nowhere to be seen, and so must have already departed for the mountains. She espied Zachary speaking to some of his officers. With Lady Clary’s words fresh in her mind, she hesitated, but then took a deep breath and strode up to him.

“That will be all,” Zachary told his officers. They bowed and left him, the gazes of a few of them lingering on Karigan. What did they suspect? Her heart hammered in her chest when he turned to her. “Yes, Rider?” he asked. His gaze fluttered over her shoulder, and suddenly she remembered Duncan.

She bowed her head. “I wish to return your coat, Your Majesty. I thank you for its use.”

“I am pleased it helped.” He accepted the coat with a small bow of his own.

Karigan was aware of Duncan watching the exchange with rather too much interest. “I, uh, guess I’d better find a horse.”

“Before you go,” he replied, “might I have a quiet word with you? Alone?”

“Yes. Of course. One moment.” She walked over to Brandall.

“What are you doing?” Duncan asked.

“Could you hold on to this for a moment?” she asked Brandall.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” She slipped the pouch off her shoulder and handed it to him. To Duncan she whispered, “No eavesdropping.”

“But—”

She shook her head curtly and returned to where she’d left Zachary. He stood there straight and tall with his hands clasped behind his back. His beard had grown nicely since she’d seen him in the north. She smiled.

They strolled over to a quiet corner of the square where it was unlikely anyone would overhear their conversation. Lady Clary’s words about the danger of kings remained fresh in her thoughts, and she was conscious of how others might perceive Zachary having a private word with her. She made sure not to stand too close to him.

“I won’t detain you long,” he said, “but we haven’t had a chance to speak. I . . .” He seemed strangely at a loss for words. “I was very concerned when you did not return to Sacor City; then I heard you’d been captured by the Raiders. I also missed you. A great deal.”

She glanced back into the square where the Riders continued to make adjustments to their gear in preparation for leaving. They were not paying any attention whatsoever. However, there were a few villagers awakened by the late night activity observing the goings on, and some, indeed, were gazing in the direction of their king. It was, for many of them, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the man who ruled over them, and so it was not surprising they watched him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I know it is complicated between us, but I wanted you to know you have been greatly in my thoughts and I want you to come home safely.”

She nodded. It seemed they were always taking leave of one another. “I have often thought of you, too.” It seemed a safe enough thing to say, but her dreams played unbidden through her mind. Once again their sensuous nature overheated her and she resisted the urge to fan her face.

Zachary smiled down at her. “There is one more thing. Fastion?” The Weapon stepped forward from the shadows and handed him a small oblong box. “With the recent promotions, it came to our attention that the Chief Rider position claims no special insignia. Your colonel thought that wrong, and I agreed. I know she would have liked to give you this herself, and she had brought it along in hopes of recovering you alive and well from the Raiders.”

He opened the box and inside lay a brooch in the form of a gold feather. It was about the length of her hand.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, and it was, for it had been made with an eye for detail, and it shone brightly in the lamplight.

He removed the feather from the box. “From now on, the Chief Rider will always be known by a gold feather. This one was made by the royal jeweler.”

Such a fine thing, she thought, for a lowly common messenger.

He stepped close to pin it to her coat, and the heat intensified. She forced herself to stand steady and breathe naturally. It was a relief when he stepped back. He seemed to admire the feather on her, and then nodded in approval.

“Congratulations, Chief Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon,” he said.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He gazed into the square. “I suggest you get ready or they’ll leave without you.” When she hesitated, he said, “That is all, Rider. For now.”

She bowed again, wondering about the “for now,” and hastened back among her fellow Riders. She collected the pouch from Brandall.

“Nice bauble,” Duncan remarked, pointing at the feather.

“New insignia,” she said.

She looked about for the little mare she’d borrowed from the guards in Sacor City, but instead, she spotted Tegan and Elgin jogging toward her with a spotted horse in tow.

“Loon?” she said.

Elgin grinned even as he huffed and puffed, and Karigan was further astonished to note he was attired in Rider green though he wore no brooch.

“Good to see ya, lass,” he said. “Your Condor isn’t here, so it makes sense for you to ride your colonel’s horse. He’s fast! She can have him back when we find her. I’ll be ponying Bluebird in the rearguard.”

“That all right with you?” she asked Loon.

The gelding tossed his head high and whinnied. It was answered by several of the other horses packed into the square.

“I take it that’s a yes,” Karigan said with a smile.

“It’ll have to be, I guess,” Elgin said. “He and Bluebird are riled up with their mistress gone, and Loon still being so young might be a handful.”

“I understand.” As Karigan recalled, it was Loon who had caused the colonel to dislocate her shoulder in early spring. He practically danced in place, eager to be off to rescue his Rider. They’d get a sense from him and Bluebird as to the colonel’s situation through their bond with her. So far, Loon appeared upset, but not so much that it made her think the Raiders had killed the colonel.

“I also took the liberty of borrowing a couple of the colonel’s things for you to use,” Tegan said. She helped Karigan buckle on the colonel’s cuirass, which fit well, but was definitely an unfamiliar addition to her usual gear.

Tegan tapped her own cuirass. “These are discards from the light cavalry.”

“Discards? Really?” The cuirass was polished and ornamented with a delicate filigreed pattern. There was nary a sign of wear on it that she could see.

“You know how the light cav is,” Tegan replied. Then, “This is the colonel’s saber.”

“Tegan, I can’t.”

“You can’t go unarmed.”

“I can’t use it. My back. It’s not strong enough yet.”

Elgin whispered in Tegan’s ear and she nodded. “The colonel will need her saber when we find her, just like she’ll need Loon, so you might as well carry it even if you don’t use it.”

Karigan protested no further at their logic and belted on the sword, along with its matching longknife.

“Your saddlebags are provisioned so you are all set.” Tegan then hurried off to get herself ready.

Elgin tightened Loon’s girth and held the reins while Karigan mounted. The wound on her side stung as she stretched it pulling herself into the saddle. The colonel was a smaller person, so Karigan had to lengthen the stirrup leathers.

“Loon’s a good-hearted horse,” Elgin told Karigan, “but untried in battle. He’ll do his best for you though.” He handed up Duncan’s pouch and left her so he, too, could prepare.

Duncan vanished one moment only to reappear sitting behind her on Loon. She could not feel him there, and Loon seemed unperturbed by his additional, weightless, passenger.

Connly nudged his gray mare, Will, short for Whip-poor-will, over to her. “Trace will stay with the king’s host so we can keep each other apprised of our progress and what we encounter.” Their complementary special abilities allowed them to communicate with one another through their minds. “We are twenty-two strong going. The rest, some forty Riders, will also remain with the king’s host. I would like you to speak to the group about what lies ahead.”

At Connly’s direction, she followed him so they could position themselves before the assembled messengers. As she looked upon so many Riders in green, some she knew, such as Tegan, Brandall, and Harry, and others she had yet to meet, she could not help but be proud to be one among them.

Connly stood up in his stirrups. “Riders,” he said, “the night wanes and we are losing time. We are going to the mountains to rescue our own, but we will be traveling strange paths that will help us reach our destination in very little time. Only your Chief Rider has walked these paths, so she and the mage, Duncan, will speak on it to prepare you.”

“We will be entering a transitional place,” Karigan told them. “It will be unlike anywhere you’ve gone before.” She’d been unhappy to hear Duncan’s suggestion of using the “white world,” which he called the “Blanding,” to travel to the mountains. He could open a way for them, he said, with Karigan’s help. She went on to describe the white plains, how disorienting they could be. “It is a place not of our world or corporeal existence. It may present images and symbols that look real, but are not. Do not panic, do not be deceived by anything you may see there. Anything you want to add?” she asked Duncan.

“I wish to stress that you do not stray, and do not cross any bridges we encounter under any circumstances, unless I lead you there.”

Zachary then appeared at Karigan’s stirrup. “If I could have a word or two?”

Connly bowed in his saddle. “Of course, sire.”

Zachary turned to the assembled Riders. “You are a small group heading into enemy territory. Small, but swift and able. Do not forget, however, you will be dealing with Darrow Raiders. Their desire for vengeance is great, but your goal is not to engage with them, but to get our people out, then return to the main body of the host. Is that clear?”

The Riders responded with, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” he said. “I expect you will do me and your colonel proud. May the gods hold you close.”

With that, Connly ordered the Riders to move out. Zachary watched them go, his hands once more clasped behind his back. He watched them all, yes, but Karigan knew he especially watched her. She thought of the softness in his brown eyes when he looked at her. The true danger of her king, she thought, was what he did to her heart.