The Spoils of Allsveil: Dark Heart Heroes #2 Page 3
“Mother!” The filly turned harpy. “Don’t marry that murderous trash—”
Aighta turned and slapped her daughter. The filly fell into her chair. Aighta was a wise woman to reprimand her daughter swiftly and effectively. If she hadn’t, the task would be left to me and my punishments were not as…polite. Aighta turned back and the chill of the winter’s night crept down my spine.
“I will marry your son,” Aighta said.
“No.” My denial couldn’t come out fast enough.
“Alexia is too young.”
“No.” I found her excuse invalid and my own response disturbing but final. The filly was young, but coming of age. Darrin could control the filly but Aighta was a different type of manipulator. The filly sat with her arms crossed and stared at the wall.
“And if we refuse?” Aighta said.
“Then I’ll burn this city to ash. Maps will show a hole of desolation. History books won’t even mention the city’s name.”
The queen of Allsveil was no fool. She expected as much, or looked like she had, but her daughter hadn’t quite thought it through. The filly’s eyes grew wide. I’d hit a sore wound with that statement.
“We’ll discuss the terms.” I raised my voice louder, “Everyone else out.” Metal clanged and leather squeaked as my soldiers rose to obey my command. Paul, Darrin, Aighta, and the filly remained.
“Paul, Darrin, please escort Lady Alexia Tyilasuir to her room.”
My man-at-arms rose from his seat but my son and the filly remained seated.
“Father, I’d like to help with the discussions.”
I leaned to my right. “You should take this time to talk to your betrothed and organize your own trivia.”
Darrin sat to this dinner as a carefree boy and now stood as a man of duty. My heart wept to witness the death of his spontaneity. What Brie had done to me over a course of years, I’d done to my own son in an evening. I sat alone with my thoughts and Aighta when the three left. I needed all my wits to fight against her will. She knew how to affect me and would try to sway my decisions in her favor.
“Do you think they will forgive us?” I said.
Aighta turned to me and smiled, a sign she was aware of my disarming technique. Her smile worked on me. I wasn’t sure if my tactic worked on her.
“The glassmakers here have perfected their craft to the point that they will create cracks in the glass but the shape remains whole,” she said. “I think you’ve perfected such a craft within people.”
My heart chilled. “I learned from the best, Aighta.” I smiled and reached for the cameo around her neck, gently touching her skin. As I palmed the necklace, she didn’t move nor did her body react to my soft seduction. Feigning examination of the broach, I watched her. Her submissiveness soothed my beast. Fieron had been a lucky man. Even if he was a hard-headed non-negotiator. I hoped Aighta would see reason. She pulled back and I let the jewelry slip from my fingers. Ah, not so subservient.
“I am in mourning for my husband. Our custom is solemn contemplation and chastity.”
Her protest amused me. I was a king and she was a spoil of war. “I’ll take what I like.” And right then, I wanted her on hands and knees.
“How is Bridgette?”
My wife’s name was cold water in my face. I knew why she’d asked. The question made my jaw clench.
Aighta turned to the fire. “She was always so beautiful.”
“Strength has its beauty as well.”
“Yes, she always had a strong will.”
“Strong will is not the same as quiet strength.” I took a hold of her chin and made her look into my eyes. To my surprise, she did not shy away.
Aighta bore a dark glance and said, “Yes. And it takes a quiet mind to recognize it.”
I frowned. The statement burned. She’d said, in fewer words, that I noticed too late and having chosen Brie, I’d made my bed. I grabbed her waist and threw her on the table. Pinning her wrists to the wood I slid in between her legs.
Aighta did not scream, did not fight. Instead her eyes drew in all the heat of the room. She said, “You should wait for your wife.”
“It’s not about sex,” I said, reaching for my blade. “It’s about control.”
“You don’t have that either.” A wall of apathy filled her eyes. “For such a smart man, you haven’t a clue. You want to know why my people still fight you?”
Her comment had me pulling back.
“We taught them how to fly without ever leaving the ground.”
Aighta had always been strange but had she lost her mind?
“Bridgette never taught you to fly.” Her statement seemed to make her realize something I didn’t.
She unnerved me. I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“She never taught you to fly,” she repeated—like women had the power to do such an incredible feat.
“Tell me what the hell you’re talking about, woman, or you’re not going to live through tonight.” I stepped away from her, fearing her madness was a disease.
Aighta straightened. “Is Bridgette happy?”
“What?” Enraged, I wanted to hit something, hurt someone. This woman was a witch. She stirred my focus in a soup of distress.
She compressed her lips and spoke slowly, “Is your wife, Bridgette, the one you promised health and prosperity to, happy?”
I glared at Aighta. She was not sick or mad. She was a master at word games. I had to tread carefully. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Her face dropped in disappointment. “The answer is no, I take it. Why?”
If I could have physically thrown my words at her they would have been fists. “Why what?”
“Why is she unhappy?” Aighta asked me again.
“I don’t...” But flashes of memory stopped me. I knew why. Aighta’s dark eyes remained indifferent, while I recalled my indiscretions. A lesser man might see the former queen of Allsveil accepting of her fate, but I knew better. This was the Aighta that could take hold of your mind and twist. If I cried mercy she would win. If you waited for her pity, you’d wait your entire life.
Aighta turned and walked towards the king’s chair. She stopped and bowed her head. “The last time Fieron told me he loved me was this morning. I never tired of hearing it.”
She threw a very pointed look my way. I glowered back. Bringing her hands to her temples she said, “And when was the last time you told Bridgette you loved her?”
I scoffed. “What does that have to do with flying?”
“Everything.”
I sunk in the chair behind me. “Go.” I waved a hand. “You exhaust me.”
“No.” Aighta faced me. “You wanted to know how to fly, but...” She tilted her chin. “Resistance will make it harder to learn how.”
“Paul!” I scrubbed my face with a war-roughened hand. My man entered and bowed. “Take Lady Aighta to her room.”
Paul bowed and waited for Aighta, but my childhood-friend-turned-enemy didn’t move. “It should be me who bonds with your son.”
“No. It will be her and that is my final offer.”
“My daughter—”
“Paul!” I rose from my chair. “Escort Lady Tyilasuir out now!”
My man-at-arms understood that if he didn’t take care of this situation, there would be blood. Before he could grab her, Aighta whirled around. “Don’t touch me,” she said. The train of her skirts floated behind her. She could run, but I would see her again. Sooner than she might think.
3 - Alexia
My stomach churned in tight sailor knots. Repetition, formality, and all my training as a royal kept me walking. Mind numb, heart numb, and now soul numb, I followed. I looked at that orphan-maker beside me. I should have eaten. That way I would have been able to throw up the food on his brown leather pants and fine red velvet coat.
He looked at me and quirked the side of his mouth. He could not even give me a full smile. My fingers stiffened into spikes. Before I knew it, my a
rms reached up to claw out his eyes. If I’d been thinking straight, I might have reached for a dagger, a sword, a vase to throw. He caught my wrath by the wrists and spun me around, using my own arms to trap me.
“I know you’re angry,” he whispered in my ear. “I’m not happy about it either, but we’re nobles; this is what we do.”
I struggled to break free, but the bastard held me fast. “You killed my father!”
He went still and twirled me into one of the guards, ready to drag me to the chains. “Who told you that?” Darrin seemed angry.
“I saw your blade…” Tears pricked my eyes.
His face paled. “You watched the battle?”
I pulled away from the guard and glared at Darrin. The orphan-maker closed his eyes. When he opened them there was a depth of pain I’d thought an arrogant bastard such as he would never be capable of. “I’m not going to give you some trite apology. The fact is, it was my father or yours. I’m sure you would have done the same. Still, I deeply regret you had to witness that.”
I stood there, his words turning on me and stabbing me like I was some poor maiden to pity. No one moved. No one spoke. Not for an eternity. Darrin turned and the guards pushed me to follow. When we got to my room I was allowed privacy, but my chambers were stripped bare. No weapons, no heavy objects. All that was left was a bed with sheets, a chest of drawers, and my table and chairs. My chess set remained as well. They’d made a mistake thinking the pieces innocuous. Each one held a hidden compartment. Some empty, some not.
I grabbed the black rook and carefully peeled the cork piece from the bottom. The smallest glass vial slipped out and the most deadly poison in Allsveil sat in the palm of my hand. The prince of Dreshall would soon be dead.
4 - Goththor
Aighta’s riddle circled my exhausted brain that night and throughout the day. I’d even found myself looking out the windows expecting to see the people of Allsveil floating through air. Gods-be-damned woman. To hell with her.
“Paul!” I sat up from my chair. Papers scattered over the fine wood table, lifted by the breeze coming in through the window at my back. I slammed another one of the reports I’d been too distracted to read back on the table.
Before my man-at-arms could walk the length of the long dining table fit for an army I said, “Bring Lady Aighta Tyilasuir, her daughter, and my son.”
He bowed, turned, and set off. A runner, dead set on getting to me, passed by my man-at-arms. He approached, knelt, and waited for my release.
“Up with you. What news do you have?”
The boy looked my son’s age. “Queen Goththor approaches.”
I bolted upright before I could school my reaction. “What?”
“She’ll be here any moment. Her carriage passes the portcullis as we speak.”
Furious worms writhed in my stomach. She’d left our palace before I gave word it was safe to come. “This is no place for a lady; we haven’t fortified the gates. She should not be here.” Why had she given me no notice of her arrival? Why did she come at all?
“Guards!” I pointed to Stiagwor, the man in charge of security. “Tend to the queen, make sure she arrives safely.”
Stiagwor signaled to six of my twenty guards and pointed at the door.
“You as well, Stiagwor, tend to her.”
My security head gave me a steely glare. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you without Sir Cartell.”
“Damn it, Stiagwor, Paul will be right back, go.”
“She has her own guard, they are more than—”
I pounded my fist on the table. “If harm comes to her, I will run my sword through your gut.”
Stiagwor stood his ground for another second, then turned and accompanied his assigned men. Paul led our guests and my son into the hall. Gods-be-damned Bridgette’s timing. Aighta walked between Darrin and her daughter. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a nervous hen separating the two from each other. Darrin’s mouth was a grim line and his unhappiness seemed directed at me.
“Please sit.” I gestured at the chairs. “Paul, join us.” I needed every pinch of wit on my side against Aighta. “I’ve drawn up a contract that binds our two houses.” I passed Aighta a scroll and she took it. While she read, I observed her daughter. The filly showed no concern over the details and looked at my son with open hostility.
Darrin, on the other hand, was intent on me. A leather squeak brought my attention to his leather-gloved hands. He tightened his fists as a signal that he wanted to speak but was too proud to interrupt me. He should know better. I’d made my decision. I pointedly looked at his hands, looked into his eyes, and turned my gaze to Aighta. The filly quietly snickered.
More crackling leather. The boy was probably wringing my neck in his mind. It didn’t matter. Soon, the lands of Allsveil would be his. My gift to a deserving son. The filly would extend his lineage. Brie would have her grandchildren.
The doors to the great room opened. My wife stormed down the length of the hall with her queen’s guard and the seven I had sent to receive her hustling in her wake. My heart plummeted in nervous anticipation and my cock leapt in attention. Months had passed since I’d last seen her and those luscious lips, upturned button-nose, high cheekbones, and sky-blue eyes never failed to entice me no matter if she was being sweet or a harpy. Lately, she’d only been keen on freezing my interest out.
I stood as did everyone else. Keeping an eye on Aighta, I wondered if the two would be delighted to see each other, and band against me.
I should order everyone out. I glanced at Stiagwor.
My security chief glowered back and his look was all the communication we’d have about him and his men leaving.
Being king doesn’t mean you get to order everyone around, actually it means you belong to the people who follow you. Stiagwor’s look was one built over twenty-two years, saying, yes she’ll yell at you. No, we don’t care. No, we’re not leaving our king in a strange room with strangers so he can save face. Security first. These people are not polite company. We’ve seen you fight with your wife a thousand times. You will live through a tongue-lashing but not an arrow in the heart or an ax to the head. We are staying.
Her anger was barely contained with a glare piercing me soul deep. Her stride a force of its own, barreling towards me. When she got closer I could tell she’d locked on to me and would see no other. I nodded to her. “Good tidings, my lady.”
Bridgette’s skirts swirled when she stopped. Her arms pinned to her sides. “Good tidings indeed. How could you?”
My body and mind shut down. “Ah. I see you’ve traveled two hundred miles for another yelling match. What I have I done this time?”
“What have you done?” Bridgette’s eyes widened. “What have you done! Where is she?”
“Who?” I said. Her anger was indomitable. It made me want to run across the land and face another army rather than be here.
“Aighta! Where is Lady Aighta!”
“Lady Goththor,” Aighta said. “I am here.”
Bridgette whirled, stared at Aighta then flew to Lady Tyilasuir and grabbed her in a fierce hug. “I came as soon as I heard about the attack,” Bridgette sobbed. “I’ve been getting reports by bird during my journey. They told me he killed you.”
That rumor was quite unsettling. I had no desire to hurt Aighta. In fact, I was careful not to put her in a position where I had to execute her. Aighta hugged my wife back. Her smile was genuine and she looked much like the young girl I’d known in my youth.
Bridgette pushed her childhood friend to arm’s length. “Has he hurt you? Or have I reached you in time?” My wife scowled at me.
Aighta smiled tightly. “I’m fine.” She did not mention the death of her husband.
Bridgette turned her scowl to her friend. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Really, I’ve been treated well. I stay in my own room.”
“He’s not the same man you knew,” Bridgette said. “He’s a fiend, and worse.”
“Why have you done this?” my wife said to me.
Anger flushed my face. Opening my mouth to speak, I was rudely cut off.
“No.” Bridgette shoved a hand to halt any explanation I might have given. “Don’t tell me, I know why, you greedy bastard. You have no mercy whatsoever. You just take what you want.”
My jaw clenched. My palms began to sweat. “Paul. Lady Goththor is exhausted from her travels. See she gets rest.”
Paul bowed low and stood by Bridgette’s side.
“Were you ever coming back?” Bridgette said.
All my self-control went into holding myself back. “This again.”
“Mother!” Darrin stepped forward. My brave son trying to step into the fray and protect us from each other.
Bridgette looked at him like he was a squashed bug. “Yes. Good tidings to you, my dear. Having fun roaming the countryside and following in your father’s adulterous footsteps?”
Darrin stopped in his tracks. The hurt in his eyes made my anger boil over. Maybe I deserved her ire, but the boy? Never. “Leave my son alone, you black-tongued harpy.”
Bridgette acted as if she didn’t hear me. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you were doing? Do you think I’m going to let you get away with this?”
Her insolence burned the blood running through my veins. “Why should I come home to a smack-lipped cow such as yourself?”
Bridgette pulled back but recovered. “You bastard.”
“Oh, you’re allowed to call me every disparaging name your hen head can think of but I’m granted no defense?”
“You don’t need a defense, savage, you need manners and a good beating.”
I stepped forward. “You want a beating, woman?”
“Stop it!” Aighta’s voice pierced through the haze of anger. “Stop it!” Her small frame vibrated, her expression firm. “Stop it!”
I was dumbfounded. My wife brought me to anger before, but I’d never lost control. Never even thought of striking her.
“See what you’ve done!” Bridgette went to put her arm around the former queen of Allsveil.