Chapter 19

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Carryn watched from the back of the Throne Room as Kamien was crowned Regent of Cobalt, trying to fathom how any of it had happened – Ambrose’s death, the charge to negate Dynan’s rights as the next King, Xavier going along with it, all without her knowing a single thing about it. She felt for the first time in her life a block pitted against her ability to see, not one she had placed there herself. The High Bishop would tell her it was all meant to be, but she had a difficult time believing that. She hadn’t foreseen Dynan and Dain fighting either, the violence of that act leaving her hollow and afraid for their future.

Ambrose’s death had seemingly brought them together again, repaired the damage they’d done to one another. She didn’t see it in terms of one being at fault more than the other. They had both done these terrible things, turning on each other when Carryn hadn’t believed it possible. She wasn’t sure she trusted the peace between them now, feeling still the deep-seated anger from Dynan over Dain’s betrayal. It was somewhat astonishing to Carryn that Dynan still didn’t blame Liselle in any of it, even though he understood the extreme nature and apparent intent of her actions. He knew she lied about everything, but he told himself, he believed there were other reasons behind what she’d done. None of which he would ever know.

He was still very much in love with her.

He had to contend with her presence at his father’s funeral on the arm of her new husband. Her newfound status as Gauvin Telaerin’s wife afforded her a place near the Royal family for the service. After their initial greeting, which Dynan was forced to react appropriately throughout, he had watched after her and then rarely lifted his eyes from the floor.

It was Dain who handled her better, making it quietly clear that if she ever set foot in the Palace again, he would make certain she regretted it deeply. It was the only time the controlled expression cracked, her eyes following Dain with briefly unveiled malice. He managed to keep her as far from Dynan as he could without it once looking like it was intentional. There was a ring of close friends around them that few managed to cross.

Even Carryn found herself on the outside of that circle, but she didn’t blame Dain for the reaction. He held them all together during the days before the funeral and through Kamien’s crowning. He never faltered and rarely left his brother’s side, remarkable considering the tremendous strain their relationship had suffered at Liselle’s hand.

Carryn knew Dain only hid his anger, feeling from him a kind of buried fury, though it was hard to tell if that wasn’t from everything else happening too. She wondered when it would surface. To all appearances, the wounds healed. Physical as well as emotional wounds, Carryn thought, while she watched the Regent’s Crown, a simple band of gold with a single large sapphire set in its point, lower to settle on Kamien’s head. Carryn wondered how long it would take for the emotional wounds to truly heal, accentuated by the physical battering he’d taken. Going to Ambrose against Dynan was perhaps the bravest thing Dain had ever done and certainly the most responsible. The reward for it was only more grief.

Carryn watched them, still dazed at what was happening, while the High Bishop asked for prayers for Kamien’s good health and wisdom in his rule of Cobalt. Following those pronouncements, the Governors and people offered their allegiance. Carryn feared the old wounds, so carefully submerged, would return to divide them when the grief of losing their father had eased. She feared that moment more than she feared anything else. The timing of this assault, whoever was responsible for it, Kamien, if Dain was right, was truly well placed.

Dynan approached the throne, preparing to bow to his brother. There was a degree of resignation from him over Kamien being given the Regency that mingled with a sense of relief that the throne remained several years away, though the thought of becoming King in even four years was terrifying to him. He was careful not to let those thoughts reach Dain, trying to keep those insecurities to himself. Carryn suspected Dain knew. They were keeping secrets now, Dain especially, something about Liselle and the King ... Abruptly, she was pushed, something just shy of being thrown back and a wall went up around Dain’s thoughts, sealing her away.

“You should know better by now.”

She blinked at the incongruous difference between the action of being blocked and the slight sensation of intrusion the presence of her brother caused. Carryn turned and found Maralt standing behind her, back in the shadows near the Throne Room doors, leaning against one of the giant pillars. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. His clothes were unkempt and certainly not appropriate attire as Kamien’s advisor at this high occasion.

A chill ran down her spine, shaking through her. She thought to seek for the cause, but then it went away.

“I know enough.” She turned back to watch what was left of the ceremony. The High Bishop was invoking the final prayers.

“He doesn’t trust you.”

“Dain doesn’t trust anyone, but he allows me in to the degree he’s comfortable with. He’s been gone and so I have to start fresh with him. I don’t mind.”

Maralt snorted in contempt. “He’s an arrogant, little prick.”

“He doesn’t like you much either.” When she glanced back, her brother rolled off the pillar and slipped out the doors to the Tapestry Hall. She hesitated, not sure she wanted to be around him, but then followed. There was a darkness about him, more than was usual. She wanted to find out what was wrong.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He was able to get inside her mind as easily as ever, and yet, at the same time, there was a cloak around his thoughts she couldn’t penetrate. “I’ve discovered the truth about a few things, Carryn. Eye-opening truths. You might be interested.”

Another cold chill swept through her, reminding her of a feeling she’d had before – at the Room of Orbs. An intrinsic sensation of evil reached toward her. “What’s happened?” Her voice echoed softly among the pillars that continued from the Throne Room into the Tapestry Hall.

“On second thought, never mind. You’re not ready to know.” His eyebrows rose as he looked down at his hands as if there was something distasteful on them. “It would probably destroy you to know what I know.”

“Maralt?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. They’re my problems to deal with.”

“Is it the talon?”

“No. I’m able to shield it well enough. You don’t feel it?”

“There’s something, but ... it’s different.”

He managed a half smile. “Somewhat less than horrible? Good.”

“Why are you here like this?” She wanted to reach for him, but didn’t.

“I’m going away. For a time.”

“That’s what you said before. Is this time different than last?”

He smiled again though there was little amusement in his face. “I need to be away. Not for long. Once the little darlings are off in conscription I’ll come back then.”

“Is that all right with Kamien? It seems odd, just when he’s—”

“I don’t answer to him,” Maralt snapped and then pulled in a breath. “He doesn’t care ... mind what I do.”

“You’re pushing him, aren’t you?” The question came on impulse, one she probably shouldn’t have voiced.

“What? No. Why should I? He’s easy enough to manipulate without the difficulty of entering his mind. Besides that, it isn’t allowed.” His eyes narrowed. “Why would you think that anyway? You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you’re too reckless.” Carryn suddenly felt like running from the anger she felt coming from him. “The abilities you have can be corrupted so easily, Maralt. With what you carry, I’m afraid for you. I don’t know what’s happening to you, but I know that something is.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, or have any call to make accusations,” His hands balled into fists as though he might strike her.

He whirled around to pace over to one of the giant woven fabrics covering a section of wall that depicted a battle fought long ago, an ancient King. One of Alurn’s descendants, though she wasn’t sure which one this was, riding on a black stallion above a field of battle.

“You should to talk to the old man.” Maralt turned back to her. “Ask him what he’s done to deserve your devotion. You might be shocked.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ask him, and when he doesn’t answer you with the truth, doubt him as you now doubt me.”

“And what is the truth?”

“You’ll know it. You’ll feel it tearing away everything you know, all the ridiculous beliefs you carry. Ask him and then you come talk to me about what I can do.” He turned from her then and stalked away.

“Maralt wait.”

Carryn started after him, but he was moving too fast. By the time she reached the corner of the hall, he was halfway to the main doors and not slowing. She reached for him mentally, hoping to make him understand why she was so afraid, but he wouldn’t let her in. This time, he did strike her, pushing back so hard there came the physical sensation of a blow that made her stagger back a step. Her hands flew to her head that was suddenly pounding. The corner she stood at caught her and kept her from falling.

“Commander, are you all right?” Sheed Lasser reached for her even as she swayed, his gaze following after Maralt, who walked out the main doors. They were open to the breeze, though there didn’t seem anything of warmth in spite of the sunlit, warm day that bathed the Palace grounds.

Sheed caught her before she fell and could have simplified matters by picking her up. He avoided attracting that attention by holding her up and carefully steering her to the King’s office suite. He took her to an empty side office where he helped her into a chair by the window.

“What’s wrong?” the guard asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

Carryn couldn’t answer and shook her head instead of speaking.

“Headache?” Sheed said, persisting.

“There’s been a rash of them going around,” Ralion Blaise said from the door. He came and stood over her. “It’s happened before.”

“We both think your brother has something to do with them.” Sheed straightened, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ralion.

“How about you explain why that is?”

Carryn shook her head again, confused this time, both by how they could know anything and what they meant. “A rash of them? What do you mean? When?”

Ralion folded his arms, staring her down. “The night Ambrose Telaerin died.”