“How is She?” Sondra shot at me, leaping at me from the dim shadows of a sofa in the darkened outer chamber. With my bagiroca in one hand and rock hammer in the other, I nearly brained her. I still might.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” I asked, setting my weapons down. With all the frustration I’d concealed from Lia, I yanked the bell string that would summon Ibolya. Spying the silver coffeepot some thoughtful soul—probably also Ibolya—had left for us, I headed straight for it. Calanthe’s coffee couldn’t be beat, and I mixed a large mug with healthy portions of fresh cream and sweet honey.
“One thing about genteel imprisonment, there wasn’t much to do but eat and sleep,” Sondra said wryly. “I’m better off than most of you. The question is, why aren’t you still asleep?” By the light of the lanterns she’d begun lighting, I saw someone had indeed trimmed her hair, removing the awkward tufts and sculpting it to one length, but so short that it mostly stood on end. I supposed we couldn’t regret any of the choices that had gotten us safely out of Yekpehr, but the sight of Sondra with shorn hair reminded me of being back at Vurgmun, and—particularly after that gut-wrenching conversation with Lia—I couldn’t quite look at her. I took a bracing gulp of coffee, willing myself to wake up.
“I’m awake because Lia is. She wants to get up, but I’m hoping if we get some food into her, she’ll sleep some more.”
Sondra nodded but didn’t move. “But how is She?”
I added more honey, then more coffee. Clearly I needed more kick. “She’s weak and you know how she hates that. And she’s…” Depressed. In despair. “Sad.”
“No surprise there. You can’t expect a person to just bounce back from a trauma like that.”
“I didn’t say I thought she should.”
“You didn’t not say it—and you can be a prick that way, Conrí. You kind of do expect everyone to just soldier on, to get back up and fight even harder.”
I set my teeth. “Did you want something,” I asked as mildly as I could, which wasn’t very, “or were you just in the mood to kick me around?”
She grinned, briefly and toothily. “I’m always in the mood to kick your ass, Conrí, but no—I told Ibolya I’d keep an ear out for Her Highness in case She needed anything.”
“I was with Lia,” I replied, unreasonably irritated, “so there was no need to hover.”
Sondra eyed me. “Like I said, you’re not the most sensitive guy, Conrí.”
“I can be sensitive,” I snapped.
Sondra huffed out a sigh. “Don’t look like a kicked puppy. Sawehl knows you’re in bad shape yourself. Ibolya said you’ve barely slept since Cradysica. We were worried about you both, all right?”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who was imprisoned at Yekpehr. You can pretend it was genteel, but I know that had to have been hard on you.”
“I’m fine,” she retorted, mimicking me. “Let’s not compete for who’s more fucked up. Besides, I—” She broke off as the outer doors opened, admitting Ibolya, two servants with platters of food, and an excited Vesno.
The wolfhound bounded straight for me, and I crouched with open arms, bracing myself not to fall over at the impact of the wriggling mass of large—and thankfully clean—dog. “Hey boy, hey.” I laughed as he licked my face, spinning and twisting to get the best angles. At least someone was happy to see me around here. And wasn’t that a self-pitying thought.
“Vesno was terribly put out to be locked away from you, Conrí,” Ibolya said, a smile in her voice. “But he made for an effective alarm. I knew you must be up and about from his determination to get to you, even before I heard the bell.” Ibolya had dressed in a bright gown, though not in full court regalia. Not wearing a wig, she’d fixed her dark hair in loose waves decorated with fresh flowers.
“Thanks for looking after him,” I said, giving Vesno another brisk rub and standing. “Lia’s awake and wanting food. I gave her the potion, but she’s still hungry.”
“That sounds encouraging.”
“Yeah. She also wants to bathe and dress. She’s worried about the storm and the state of Calanthe, but she’s weak still.”
Ibolya grimaced. “Not as encouraging. I’ll see to Her.”
Leaving a loaded plate for me, Ibolya dismissed the servants and took the other platter with her into Lia’s bedroom. I nearly followed, then thought better of it. Lia might let her lady-in-waiting assist her in ways she’d be too proud to say in front of me.
I dug into the food, not particularly hungry, but aware that I needed to eat. Vesno sat politely on his haunches next to me, and I rewarded him with a slice of ham. “Speaking of the state of Calanthe, any status reports?” I asked Sondra.
She gestured to the boarded-over windows, the wind shrieking past as the rain pounded against the wood like angry fists. “The storm is obviously as bad or worse. Dearsley is still acting regent. He’s been holding court today and doesn’t seem to suspect that Her Highness has returned. We’ll have to think about how to announce that news, show Her to the people and stuff.”
I grunted, shaking my head as I swallowed. “Not yet. She’s not up to a public appearance.”
Sondra poured herself a cup of tea and sat. “How long, do you think?”
Maybe never. I hated the traitorous thought, but if Lia couldn’t stand on her own, she might refuse to be seen. Despite my assurances that she’d get stronger, I couldn’t be sure. She seemed so changed—and how did a body recover from being dead a night and a day?
“Conrí?”
“Weren’t you the one scolding me not to push her too soon?”
She scowled at me. “The mood out there is uncertain at best. There’s been a lot of damage to the island, and it’s ongoing. Natural disasters like mudslides, cliffs shearing off, sinkholes opening up, floods, and fires. The weather is dreadful. Villages have been sending people here to ask for Her Highness’s help. Dearsley is sticking to the story that Lia is at the temple, but people are starting to doubt—and panic.”
Hmm. “Anything from Anure?”
“Not that I know of. Do you think the toad even knows he lost Her?”
I stared at Sondra. “Why wouldn’t he?”
She shrugged a little, snagged a piece of toast off my plate, and chewed thoughtfully. “After that first audience, Anure pretty much washed his hands of Lia. He turned Her over to the wizards and—sorry.”
I stroked Vesno’s silky head. If they’d endured it, I could hear about it. “Go on.”
“Well, after that, we never saw him again. The wizards had Lia—trying to get that orchid off Her—but I think they weren’t supposed to kill Her. Could be that they haven’t told Anure any of it: that they accidentally offed Her, and then lost Her corpse. I’m betting the wizards don’t know She’s alive, and Anure thinks She’s still his prisoner somewhere in the bowels of Yekpehr.”
“The wizards sent that huge wave,” I pointed out. “And both Lia and Ambrose think they’re still launching magical attacks.”
“Yeah, but that could be about getting Her Highness’s corpse—and the orchid—back. That could be all from the wizards, not Anure.”
I nodded. “It’s good thinking. But what do we do with it?”
“You’re the strategist, Conrí. But surely we can use this to our advantage when we return to Yekpehr.”
To rescue Rhéiane, but could I leave Lia in such a state? Abandon her in her hour of need. Again. “We can think about that later.”
“What?” Sondra thunked her head with the heel of her hand. “Did I hear wrong? We have to go back.”
“We will. There’s a lot to consider first.”
“Who are you?” Sondra banged her fist on the table, and Vesno jumped to his feet, wagging his tail in excitement. “I’m going back for Rhéiane, whether you are or not!”
“Would you be quiet?” I hissed. “Down, boy. Sit. Yes, of course I’m going back for Rhéiane, but Lia doesn’t need to know about it.”
“What? She knows. We talked about it on the Last Resort, when Agatha told us.”
I shook my head, raking a hand through my hair. “Lia doesn’t remember much about when she first woke up. Or the second time.”
Sondra set her cup down, lips parted in dismay. “How bad is it?”
I shrugged, unwilling to go into it—or to admit to myself how crazed Lia seemed.
“Brains rot first, you know,” Sondra commented thoughtfully, cupping her tea in her hands.
Staring at her, I had no words.
“You know that,” Sondra continued remorselessly. “You kill an animal, or a person, and the brains go to mush way before the other organs. It makes sense that, even if Lia isn’t entirely human, Her body is still flesh and blood. It had to start decomposing some and the—”
“Enough!” I snarled it way too loudly, but I couldn’t take anymore.
The door to the connecting chambers opened, and I spun to look, but it was only Ibolya slipping through and closing the door again behind her. She smiled at us with her Calanthean serenity that prettified all things, but her dark eyes held worry. “Her Highness ate and now She is sleeping some more.”
Instead of reassuring me, that news was only worrisome. Lia had been so determined to get up. Was she feeling weaker? “I’ll go check on her,” I said.
Ibolya put a gently restraining hand on my arm. “If you please, Conrí, Her Highness asked not to be disturbed. She’d like some time to Herself.”
Oh. The door stood forbiddingly closed, but I stared at it as if I could see through the ornately carved wood.
“I’ll stay close, Conrí,” Ibolya added, squeezing my forearm. “I set out clothes for you in your bathing chamber, so you can go ahead with your tasks. I’m sure a great deal awaits your attention.”
I realized I still wore the bright-red robe I’d put on not to be naked. Sondra must’ve been going easier on me than I thought, that she hadn’t commented on the fancily embroidered silk. Apparently I wasn’t going back to bed, so I might as well dress and deal with stuff. Disasters, the people panicking. Lia would expect me to handle things. Nobody else had figured out she and I weren’t married anymore, I hoped. Calantheans had been able to see the marriage bond before, but maybe they wouldn’t notice its absence. Ibolya hadn’t said anything.
No matter—I was still officially Lia’s consort and she’d wanted me to help with Calanthe. I’d go check in with Dearsley. And maybe I could pry Ambrose out of his tower to help Lia.
“You coming or staying?” I asked Sondra.
“Staying. Keeping a low profile, since I’m supposedly with Her Highness at the temple.”
“How’d you find out so much already then?”
She shrugged. “I’m a good skulker.”
“What about you?” I asked Vesno. The wolfhound wagged his tail, gazing at me with canine worship. There’s a true friend for you. With a last glance at Lia’s closed door, I grabbed my rock hammer and bagiroca, then headed to get dressed, Vesno a faithful presence at my heel.
Not many people were around in the public areas, since court was still in session, and the usually airy main halls were dark and gloomy with everything blockaded against the storm. A small army of servants worked feverishly to clean up a deluge of mud that had apparently poured in from one of the flooding ponds—and to set sandbags to prevent more encroachment.
A bit farther on, a group of courtiers marked my passage with excited whispers behind fluttering fans. I hadn’t figured yet how to explain my absence—and renewed presence—but having a reputation for being a taciturn brute had its advantages. No one had the courage to question me, especially as I wore a black scowl along with forbiddingly elaborate court gear. With my bagiroca hanging heavily from my belt, sword at the other hip, and rock hammer at my back, I felt at least something like in control. I wouldn’t ever be the Slave King again. I might never make a king of Calanthe—imagine me being called the Flower King—but I could at least be the guy with a bag of rocks and a big hammer. It’s good to know your strengths. And limitations.
I didn’t go the back way, the one Lia used to access her throne like a street magician in a show sneaking through the curtains in a puff of smoke to magically appear. On my previous rare, and abortive, court appearances with her, I’d gone along with her traditions. Even my own people had used showmanship to dress up the Slave King’s speeches. But I was coming to grips with the idea that whatever life I’d led before this, it was over.
So I went around to the great double doors, easily three times my height, that opened into the great court of Calanthe. Unlike on my first “visit,” the doors stood open, the sleekly groomed guards snapping to attention, then bowing. I waved a hand at them to relax, and I strode up the main aisle, Vesno alert beside me, nose lifted to sample the thick scents of flowers, perfume, and the sour sweat of frightened people.
A ripple of reaction rolled through the assembly, the courtiers closest to the aisle widening their eyes and frantically scribbling notes while passing the news back to their neighbors with less advantageous views. Like Vesno sniffing for scents, I tested the atmosphere of the court. Lia could assess that kind of thing like a connoisseur of fine wine, instantly identifying the subtle notes. I could tell you basically red or white—and yeah, the court thrummed with incipient panic. More petitioners than usual lined up with their noble patrons, the folk from the outlying villages standing out in their simpler clothing, many sporting injuries and other signs of hard times.
Taking it all in with one sweeping glance, I returned my gaze to Dearsley. The elderly man sat in a chair only a couple of levels up the steps to Lia’s throne. A lover of protocol, of course Dearsley wouldn’t presume to sit on the throne, or to even take one of the stools positioned for Lia’s ladies. Until that moment, I hadn’t figured what I’d say to Dearsley, who watched my approach with a pained expression torn equally between hope and despair.
I knew that feeling well.
And I guessed I’d wing this. For all that I loved to plan a battle strategy, politics made me want to hurl things through the windows. Lia would probably say that politics and battles are the same, both equally deserving of careful strategy, and she’d be right. Maybe someday I’d get it.
“Conrí.” Lord Dearsley stood, with the help of a handsome lad at his elbow, and bowed to me. “I yield the Throne of Calanthe to You. Welcome back.”
Sawehl smite me, that was not what I’d intended. That’s what I got for not planning better. The court politely applauded, some sending up cheers and I turned to wave and smile, just as Lia would expect. How she’d feel about me still claiming a right to her throne, though … I winced internally.
“Do You bring news, Conrí?” Dearsley asked tentatively, leaving me plenty of room to maneuver around the truth.
I couldn’t lie to the old man, who’d practically raised Lia. “Her Highness has returned to the palace,” I said, deciding on the spot that secrecy would be not only pointless, but impossible in this hive of gossips.
Dearsley’s polite expression crumbled, a real smile wobbling into place as tears filled his eyes. The lad at his elbow firmed his grip, keeping Dearsley from swaying. “It’s true?” Dearsley asked in a quiet voice that wouldn’t carry even to the nearest courtiers, who leaned forward in their eagerness to catch every sound. “I thought I felt, but … Sometimes hope deceives.”
I clasped him on the shoulder, adding my strength to keep him upright. “It’s true. Your queen has returned. But she remains in seclusion for the moment, and sent me to address anything urgent.” A mix of truth and lies there, but it served to satisfy our audience, who swiftly passed back the news.
“Where to start?” he said with a humorless laugh and bowed again. “We are grateful for Your help, Conrí. If You will take Your throne, we can commence.”
I winced again, internally, as Dearsley employed the honorific. Just digging myself in deeper. Fortunately the chair Lia had added for me to sit beside her remained in place, though I’d only sat in it twice. It saved me taking her ornate and flowery throne. Mine was simple black and silver, another example of her consideration for my taste.
I sat, gesturing for Vesno to sit also, and he settled on his haunches beside my chair with grave ceremony. At least one of us looked regal. I surveyed the sea of faces, all turned hopefully up to me like I could do something for them. I’d never quite figured how to explain to Lia how sitting up here made me feel like a fraud. Shifting on the hard seat, I unslung the rock hammer and set it, heavy-end down, between my chair and Lia’s empty one.
“So,” I said to Dearsley, “I hear there are damage reports.”
“Indeed, Conrí.” Dearsley had sat as soon as I had—I needed to remember that he wouldn’t until I did—and sent his lad up with a long scroll. “The current list, Conrí.”
I took it with a nod, pretended to scan the list. Oh, I could pick out words here and there if I really worked at it, but mostly it looked like spider tracks tangling across the page. If I needed to know exactly what it said, I’d get Ibolya to read it for me. Or Sondra. But I was practiced in working around this particular limitation.
“What, in your estimation, Lord Dearsley, are the most critical concerns?” I asked, rolling up the scroll and tapping it on my knee.
The court erupted into a din of sound, different factions and delegations yelling all at once about their disasters.
“Silence!” I roared, the volume making my voice harsher than usual, the strain biting painfully. It worked, though. The room fell silent, everyone staring at me in shock and more than a little fear. I nearly ruined it by smiling. “There is one person in this room named Lord Dearsley,” I continued in a more reasonable tone. I stroked Vesno’s head to give the impression of calm. “Now then, Lord Dearsley? And remain seated. I can hear you fine.”
Dearsley cleared his throat. “As You say, Conrí. The chief concerns arise from the intensifying earth tremors and the ongoing storm. All seagoing traffic has halted, with a number of fishing ships lost at sea with no way to search for them. Three bridges have collapsed, isolating a number of communities. Two villages have been buried under mudslides, and the rain and earth tremors are preventing rescue efforts. Numerous coastal towns are so flooded their entire populations have evacuated to high ground, where they’re now stranded with sick and injured and no supplies. Plus a string of islands off the north shore seem to have sunk entirely. Those are the disasters involving the largest clusters of population, but there is suffering across all of Calanthe—children lost in swollen rivers, families missing, structures collapsing. It’s difficult to know where to start.” He smiled hopefully at me. “What do You think?”
I wished I’d never gotten out of bed.
Hours later, we’d made stopgap plans to address the most critical disasters, but I felt like I’d been running flat out only to slide back. For every decision we made—and I hustled those along as fast as I could—to fix what had already broken, three more reports arrived of additional disasters.
Lia hadn’t been exaggerating when she said Calanthe was unraveling. From what I’d learned in the past hours, the situation was accelerating at a daunting rate, and we could only slap a few bandages on it. We really needed to get Lia on the job of fixing the problem at the source. I could only hope some real food and more sleep had worked a miracle. When Vesno and I got to our rooms, however, Ibolya sweetly deflected me from checking on Lia.
“I just looked in on Her Highness, Conrí,” Ibolya said with a respectful curtsy. “She’s sleeping. It would be best not to disturb Her.”
“I won’t wake her.”
“Nevertheless, I can’t let You in.”
“Is she any better?”
Ibolya hesitated. “I can’t say.”
That meant no. From the look on Ibolya’s face, Lia was worse. “Did Healer Jeaneth look at her?”
“Yes. But…” Ibolya bit her lip, firmed it. “As Ambrose said, there’s nothing she can do. Her Highness needs food and rest.”
“Lia did eat, though?”
Ibolya knotted her fingers together. “She wasn’t able to keep it down,” she admitted.
Curse it all. I strained with the need to be with her. “I’d like to see Lia for myself.”
“For Her sake, Conrí—or Yours?”
For mine, of course. In my mind’s eye, I kept seeing her on that slab, white as death, cold as stone, lost to me forever. I needed to see the flush of life in her skin, to listen to her breathing. “For Calanthe’s,” I said, Vesno shoving his nose under my hand in comfort. “Things are getting worse.”
“Her Highness is not up to doing anything for us right now. We must let Her recover first.”
I shifted on my feet, tempted to shove the slight woman aside. Ibolya cocked her head, reading my intention—and I recalled Lia’s warning that all her ladies possessed thorns. The last thing I needed was to be knocked out and wake up hours from now with a headache worthy of a three-day bender.
I took a calming breath, deep enough that the scar tissue in my lungs twinged. “What’s the problem, Ibolya? I want to see my wife. That should be enough.”
“Conrí,” she said, very gently. “Her Highness specifically asked that I keep You away. I’m sorry, but I must obey Her command. It’s my duty.”
What? I jerked my gaze over Ibolya’s head—she barely reached my shoulder anyway—and glared at the door. A low grinding noise rose up, and I realized the growl came from me. It had been a mistake to tell Lia I loved her. Now that she was free of me, she clearly wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Well, she wasn’t getting rid of me that easily, especially when I knew she needed me. I hadn’t saved her to let her wither away and die now. “Has Ambrose examined her?”
Ibolya shook her head. “I’ve sent multiple messages to the tower, as You requested, Conrí, but he has yet to respond.”
Oh, the wizard was going to respond all right. This I could do. I gave Ibolya a last glare and she smiled politely, still not budging. “I’ll be back, and I will see Lia.”
“I will give Her Highness Your message, Conrí,” Ibolya replied with formal courtesy.
“Come on, Vesno.” I turned on my heel and strode out of the rooms again, the door guard saluting as I departed. Sondra jumped up from her post on the sofa and followed, extending her stride on my other side to keep up with my pace.
“Where are you going?”
“To get Ambrose.”
“Will he admit you?”
I curled my fingers into a tighter fist. What was with everyone locking me out? I might have to start bashing heads with the rock hammer after all. “I’m going to make sure of it.”
Sondra didn’t immediately reply, still flanking me. “Conrí, maybe you need more recovery time, too. You’re still running on, what? A few hours of sleep after a week or longer of practically nothing?”
“I thought about sleeping, but I’m not allowed into my own bed, am I?”
“There are other beds, Conrí,” Sondra said in a careful voice.
“Don’t,” I growled.
She subsided again, probably needing her breath as we climbed the stairs to Ambrose’s tower, Vesno galloping ahead with enviable energy. Vesno happily explored the bare, circular room at the top, devoid of furniture but apparently not interesting smells. Sondra wiped the sweat from her forehead and I frowned at her. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Yekpehr—” She drew a deep breath, deliberately holding, then releasing. “That fucker Anure burns vurgsten on the walls, night and day.”
“I saw.”
She rolled her shoulders. “You know how it is. Worked my lungs over to breathe that shit.”
I did know. “Thank you,” I said, feeling awkward and, yeah, like an idiot. “For sticking with Lia,” I explained.
“I promised you. Besides,” Sondra added with a snort, equally uncomfortable. “She’s worth sticking with.”
“I’m just sorry it came to that.”
“What in Ejarat’s bountiful tits are you talking about, Conrí?”
“We both know that it was all my fault,” I said, not looking at her but at the sealed trapdoor in the high ceiling. There used to be a ladder for guards and servants to climb up to Ambrose’s chamber, but no longer. We’d have to get him to let one down. “If I hadn’t been such a hotheaded, shortsighted, stubborn fool, you and Lia would never—”
“Stop already!” Sondra shouted, surprising me and bringing Vesno running to nose her inquiringly. She patted his head, gaze on me. “The fact that Anure abducted us is Anure’s fault. The fact that the wizards tortured Lia is the wizards’ fault. Despite your delusions of grandeur, Con, you are not the master of the universe. Get over yourself.”
I eyed her. “Was that supposed to be a pep talk?”
She bared her teeth in a flesh-eating grin. “Yes. Now, how are we getting Ambrose to let down his golden hair?”
Snorting in turn, I studied the ceiling, then cupped my hands to my mouth to focus my shout. “Ambrose!” My voice ran around the windowless chamber in a mockery of echoes. Ambrose … mbrose … brose … sss. “Ambrose, let us in!” Us in sin sin nnn … “You’d think he’d have a bell pull or something,” I commented sourly.
“But then people could reach him,” Sondra pointed out.
I set my jaw. “This is ridiculous. I’m getting up to that trap.”
“As you say, Conrí.” Sondra snapped me a salute. “I shall locate a ladder.”
While she was gone, I shouted for Ambrose some more, even inciting Vesno into a spate of barking, which made him wildly gleeful. I was jumping up and down, encouraging Vesno to leap ever higher on his hind legs—the wolfhound could clear some serious height—both of us barking at top volume, when Sondra returned with two servants carrying a long ladder.
She eyed me dubiously, but simply instructed the servants to put the ladder in place. I crouched down to calm Vesno, both of us panting. Oddly enough, I felt a little better. Less roilingly frustrated, anyway.
The servants disappeared immediately, both casting wary glances at the ceiling, as if a monster lurked up there. I climbed the ladder, finding a midway point where I could stand and still reach the trap. “It should push up and in,” I remembered.
“Unless Ambrose is sitting on it.”
“He’s not heavy.”
“Are you sure?”
I grunted, not willing to debate that. How Ambrose appeared and how he actually was didn’t always match up. I pushed, and it felt like pushing on the ceiling. Nothing gave. “Ambrose!” I shouted. Vesno circled the bottom of the ladder, adding his howls. Sondra leaned against the wall, calmly putting her hands over her ears.
I slammed the meat of my hand against the trap, yelling for Ambrose. Going up another rung took me a bit out of center but let me coil my legs, giving me spring to pound on the stone in steady thumps that bounced the ladder.
“Con!” Sondra shouted. “Give it up! This is insanity.”
“No,” I snarled, keeping up the pounding. Ambrose was supposed to be Lia’s wizard and she needed him, so he could dammed well step up and be accessible. I’d blast the trap open with vurgsten if I had to. If we had any left after squandering everything we’d painstakingly saved, all on that one battle that should’ve ended Anure forever and had instead left us crippled and broken, Lia and her realm shattered—both continuing to erode beyond recognition or repair.
The rage returning, I unslung the rock hammer from my back with the other and swung it. The leverage was wrong—and the ladder tilted precariously away from the wall with the change in balance—but I heaved the heavy mallet against the stone with a small clang.
“Conrí, please!”
I swung the hammer again, my shoulder protesting the awkward position, but managed to hit the stone harder. Clang.
“Conrí!”
I ignored Sondra, winding up to hit the door again, fury lending me additional strength.
“Con! Listen, you fucking idiot!” Sondra screamed.
Pausing, I glanced down. Sondra stood there, pointing ostentatiously at Ambrose beside her. Vesno sat on his haunches, tongue lolling happily. Ambrose cocked his head at me, his smile very like Vesno’s. “Why, Conrí,” he said mildly. “What an unexpected pleasure. Would you care to come in for tea?”