Liberate, Page 2

  Besides, if he even tried to smack her with a shovel, without a very good reason (like her trying to kill him), she’d break the shovel in half and then Apexia only knew what horrible thing she’d do afterward. And he’d deserve it, of course, for having tried to hit her with the damn shovel (like the day she was trying to kill him).

  They had been lounging quietly in her bedchamber, talking about how to find Erem. She’d only just arrived in Taftlin, and it was finally their first chance to sit and take a deep breath since all of the drama that came with her arrival. Erem had been missing for about a year now and it weighed heavily on all of their minds, but he’d not expected news. Nor did he expect news that required his immediate action. Arrago had no illusions that he would have anything resembling a typical Taftlin marriage when he’d taken the vows with Bethany. Still, he’d hoped they’d at least have a honeymoon touring about the country before she went off half-brained and crazed.

  Instead, a mysterious letter arrived just after they’d managed to foil an attempted assassination of both Bethany and Arrago, at the hands of the dismissed Lord Rutherford and the new elven Lord Defender Jud’s flunkies. If it wasn’t their heads that hung in the balance, it would have been funny. How big of a threat was Arrago’s new monarchy if he could bring together the historic enemies of Taftlin and the elves?

  What did Allric once say? Give Bethany twenty minutes in a monastery and she could get them to declare war on just about anyone? She really did bring that out in people.

  So now he was rushing down a hallway, barely dressed, trying to shove his feet into slippers and his arms into his robe, while Bethany shouted and ordered the servants about. If Celeste could only see him now. He thought it would bring a smile to his dead wife, knowing that he’d followed her dying wish of having him marry the woman he loved. A woman who would never let him have a dull, quiet evening at home. He hoped somewhere, somehow, Celeste could see past the veil of death and know he was happy.

  For even though the stakes were once again dire, he was irrationally happy.

  “Lendra, calm yourself,” Arrago said as Bethany’s only living sister rattled off demands for details.

  Her glare wasn’t as good as her sister’s, but it was improving. The one she flashed at Arrago was amongst her best. “Don’t tell me to be calm.”

  Lendra lived in the palace with the rest of the old gang, only now she worked as the Ambassador to Taftlin. Realistically, she was about four hundred years too young for the job, but the old farts in the Elven Council needed to get Bethany and her sister away from them. Neither he nor his advisors could figure out exactly why, but both he and Bethany were convinced Lord Jud was planning something big. It had something to do with the war’s end, but it was anyone’s guess after that.

  Nothing had been the same since the peace just over a year ago. Pressures should have eased as borders were re-established and military forces retreated. Instead, the outward violence was replaced with internal strife. Even his own country was full of it; nearly bankrupt, Arrago had been selling off royal heirlooms and melting down the silverware to pay wages. Add to that his new edicts taxing slave-owning barons and lords, and he was not a popular man with the most powerful in his country.

  And that was why he’d been holed up in the palace for a year, and why he was strangely out of breath rushing down such a short corridor. He really needed to get back out riding or sword-fighting. He was growing soft in his fear.

  “Erem is out there, he could be hurt. He needs us,” Lendra said and the worry finally crept into her voice.

  “I know, Lendra,” Bethany said. “We have to come up with a plan first.”

  Erem and Lendra had started a little...something before the end of the war. He had asked Bethany about it, but she said no one would tell her. Something about her having threatened to kill whoever was flirting with her baby sister. Of course, she hadn’t meant it, but the others took it as truth enough to not tell her a bloody thing.

  Erem, Lendra, and Bethany, along with most of the invasion force, went back to Orchard Park and the land of the elves. Erem promptly went missing. Bethany was nearly kicked out of the service. Allric, who’d given his life leading the campaign against Magic, was labelled a traitor. They even refused to pay Amber the pension they were legally required to provide war widows. No one understood what was happening at the time. Apexia’s Mercy, they still didn’t know.

  “Well? What are you going to do?” Lendra demanded.

  “I only just got the letter!” Bethany shouted back.

  “And so you’re just going to stand around?”

  Though an only child, Arrago absolutely knew better than to interrupt the two sisters whenever they got into it. Instead, he motioned at a maid who was farther down the corridor. She hurried in their direction, all the while the sisters argued.

  The maid arrived a minute later, huffing and holding her hand in front of her flickering candle. Breathlessly, she said, “Majesty?”

  There was no point to tell the servants not to run. It seemed to only make them run faster. “See that the others are all brought to the Rose Room. Have a fire readied and have one of the scullery maids bring food and hot drinks. We’ll need elven food, too. I suspect it will be a late night for us all.”

  The maid frowned, but none of the displeasure in her expression touched her voice. “At once, Majesty. Might I caution? I worry there won’t be hot food at this hour, Majesty. The waters also might not be boiled.”

  Arrago waved a dismissive hand. “Warm water for the wine would be helpful, if tea cannot be had.”

  “Yes, Majesty. I will let them know.”

  She gave a final curtsy and hurried off, her thudding steps only partially muffled by the carpets.

  Then, Arrago guided the warring sisters and his friends to the Rose Room without actually saying a word. It was a skill he’d been working on with Lord Stanley. Stanley was an old man, who’d served as advisor to three of Arrago’s predecessors and, for reasons Arrago never completely understood, had a soft spot for Taftlin’s new rebel king. Stanley’s ability to manoeuver warring enemies was a thing of amazement and the old man had been teaching him the ways of silent control.

  So Arrago carefully walked and motioned, and the sisters followed. Bethany was too busy being annoyed by her little sister to notice she wasn’t in charge of the particular situation. That made Arrago smile inwardly. Rare was it he ever got the upper hand on his wife.

  Wife. He was still getting used to the notion that Bethany had finally married him. He still got a funny little grin on his face whenever he thought of it too much. Now was not the time for him to grin, however. He didn’t need the ire of both sisters turned on him.

  The footmen at the Rose Room’s entrance both bowed before swinging open the ornate double doors. The Rose Room was fast becoming Arrago’s favourite room in the capital’s Winter Palace. It was large enough to hold a gathering of twenty or so people, but it had a cozy, almost intimate feel to it. One side of the room exited into a small hothouse. Exotic foods from the south were grown there, but also were various flowers, both local and foreign. Roses were a popular choice, as the previous king’s grandmother was particularly fond of them. The maids would keep the glass door open between the two rooms whenever they were attending the area, and the scent of roses lingered in the air all day.

  They turned the corner, the sisters still bickering, when some of the others were just arriving. Arrago gave them all a tired wave and said, “Let’s meet in here.”

  Lord Rayner, the other of Arrago’s elderly advisors, was still in his nightgown and white nightcap. He wore a heavy wool robe, though hadn’t thought to tie the belt to cover his nightgown. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, muttering under his breath. When he realized Arrago’s bemused notice, he said, “There had better be food and wine. I’m too old to be woken up in the middle of the night. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get back to sleep at my age, young man? Majesty.”

  Arrago smil
ed at the elderly gentleman and then turned to the maid who was rushing to set up the sideboard table for food. “Could you get someone to bring blankets? When you’re done, of course.”

  “Majesty,” she said, with a deep curtsy. Then she rushed out of the room in a flurry of skirts and braids, shouting at the chamber maids in the corridor to get blankets, now, for the king and his guests.

  He sighed.

  “Arrago, I’ve told you a thousand times, the maids will always drop what they are doing to do whatever it is you want them to do that moment,” Bethany said, collapsing into one of the chairs. She crossed her ankles and let out a long sigh. “Did anyone get Kiner?”

  “I’m here, I’m here,” came a deep voice from just beyond the door. Kiner was a tall Elorian, just like Bethany, though he was significantly darker in skin tone than her. He’d been trying out a beard again, but, as ever, it didn’t suit him. “Why am I here?”

  “Jovan found Erem.”

  EDMUND GREYFEATHER yawned into the back of his hand as he watched the maids enter with covered pewter platters. Bethany was outright refusing the read the letter out loud until Lord Stanley was fetched, which was not helping Lendra’s increasingly short supply of patience.

  Edmund turned to Kiner and asked, “Do you know what’s happened?”

  “I was up writing letters to old friends to find out more information about the Elven Council, to be completely honest. I was hoping I could find someone who knew anything about Erem. Then a footman told me I had been summoned to the queen’s presence.” Kiner said that last bit with great exaggeration. “You?”

  Edmund shrugged. “Apparently, Jovan’s written her with news, and she was planning to leave by herself until Arrago shouted her down. Then she got distracted yelling at Lendra.”

  Kiner snorted. “He’ll pay for that later.”

  “I’m sure he will. So, your letters. Any news?”

  Kiner made an annoyed sound. “Nothing we don’t already know. If she would stop arguing with Lendra, she could tell us what’s in the letter.”

  “And be spared this endless sibling spat? Oh, Lord Kiner, how cruel you are.”

  Both men laughed at that, catching an annoyed glare from Lendra.

  Two more maids hurried into the room carrying large platters of food. A footman came in behind them with a basket of wood. He went about the duty of starting a fire while the maids pulled the covers off the pewter serving platters. Kiner poked him with his elbow and motioned for the food. They made their way over before the others, who were all too engrossed in badgering Bethany, could get the best cuts.

  Edmund picked up a plate and placed it down on the table. Kiner held his in his hand, while using his free hand to pile items high. Edmund turned his head away enough so that he couldn’t see out of the corner of his good eye. He was getting better at doing for himself, though the others tended to be more protective of him than he’d prefer. The knights weren’t generally, though, and for that he was grateful. It had been a year. It was time everyone got used to his injuries. Not that he had, of course. Slowly, though. Isn’t that what the healer said? Slowly. He hated slowly.

  Kiner patiently waited while Edmund painstakingly used the fingers of one hand to pull apart a dense roll, and then smeared jam on the insides. In fact, Kiner made idle chatter, even though his own stomach must have been protesting Edmund’s pace.

  “Will you please tell us what’s in the letter?” Arrago urged.

  “Brennus isn’t here yet,” Bethany insisted. “And neither is Lord Stanley. I’m not doing anything without his approval.”

  Arrago rolled his eyes. “Lord Rayner, is divorce legal in Taftlin?”

  Lord Rayner, nursing his warmed wine, said, “It is not, but the king can always pass laws in exceptional cases.”

  Edmund chuckled to himself at the typical exchange between the couple. He was so happy for both of them. It had been a strain on their friendship when Arrago married the love of Edmund’s life. Edmund hadn’t protested, and hadn’t even told Arrago. Bethany knew, though. It had been a strange event to bring them together into mutual trust, but it had.

  Edmund had always thought he’d feel Arrago was betraying Celeste by marrying Bethany, but his heart surprised him. Celeste would have wanted Arrago and Bethany to be together. In her heart, she was a romantic. If she could see them all now, she would be so pleased to see Arrago finally happy. She would not, however, be as pleased with his situation.

  He sighed a little, as he slid a particularly crumbly meat pie on to his plate, the action making it fall apart more. Celeste wouldn’t want him to sink into self-pity. He tried not to, and he was far more improved than those early weeks when the shock wore off and reality settled in.

  Losing his hand and his eye turned out to be far more difficult than he’d ever expected. He’d seen plenty of maimed victims of war and disease, especially of late with the end of the Magic Wars. But he’d never expected he’d be one of the victims, and that he’d be rendered so useless.

  And then there were the nightmares. Endless reliving of the final battle. Seeing Lord Allric fall. Seeing Lady Eve fall. Seeing all eyes turn to him. Taking over the army and the battle.

  He gulped down the memories. They didn’t haunt his waking moments nearly as much as they used to, and he refused to let them into his mind now. He had to focus. He accepted the wine bottle from Kiner, who’d passed it down to him from further up the table, and he poured himself a glass. Then he realized he’d need to make two trips, unless he could balance the wine glass on his plate without soaking everything in the sharp red liquor.

  “Want me to bring your glass back?” Kiner asked.

  It was a simple question. It wasn’t done out of pity or malice. Just a question. Before the accident, he would have let Kiner take the stupid glass. Amber had even talked to him about this: Edmund, accept the help when it is offered to you. Don’t isolate yourself. I worry for you.

  He frowned at the goblet. “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.”

  Kiner kept his expression neutral and poured himself some wine, adding warm water to it. While he did that, Edmund placed his crystal goblet in the middle of his plate. Crumbs and cold gravy quickly covered the glass, but he got it wedged in between the food. Thankfully, the base was wide at the bottom and narrow at the top, so it was easier to balance.

  He and Kiner walked back, taking their seats. Kiner didn’t hover, but Amber leaned toward him, fret on her face. He shot her an annoyed glance, which didn’t dissuade her at all. But he managed to take his seat without spilling the wine. He placed the plate on his knees, satisfied that he did it without any help.

  He noticed Amber flashing Bethany a look he couldn’t read, but Bethany giving one back that he recognized all too well: stay out of it.

  Admittedly, it was probably silly of him to not ask one of the servants to fetch the plate for him. Before the accident, he’d gotten servants to do pretty much everything for him. He’d grown up with servants. He was used to servants. He’d never done a single thing on his own until he’d run away with Arrago to form the resistance against King Daniel. Which lead into a rebellion. Which very quickly led to a civil war. Because that was how Taftlin politics went these days.

  Edmund sipped at his wine, the warm burn a comfort. He pushed his shoulder blades together and winced. He’d fallen asleep in one of the unpadded wooden chairs in Amber’s room with an exhausted Opal draped across him. Amber herself had also fallen asleep on the small sofa in her bedchamber, but at least she’d been lying down. Not that he was complaining. It felt good to be useful, even if it was filling in for a great man who’d died in the war.

  He glanced over at Amber, bedraggled and blurry-eyed. She met his gaze and smiled at him before going back to listen to Bethany and Arrago’s bickering. He knew Arrago would tease him after this about him being in Amber’s bedchamber, but his intentions were absolutely honourable. Little girls in pigtails needed a dada, be they human, Rygent, elven, or Elorian. Hers wa
s dead. The least he could do was try to fill those very large, and very capable boots.

  And he never felt like half a man whenever little Opal smiled up at him.

  Chapter 2

  AN ETERNITY LATER, but was actually only a handful of minutes after the maids got the fire going, Brennus walked in with Lord Stanley. The former took his time to keep step with the elderly human and the latter complained loudly at the gall of the king to wake an old man from his slumber. He glared at Bethany and gave Arrago a muttered curse, but he settled into a vacant chair.

  “Is there any wine? Brennus, find me wine,” Stanley ordered. He caught sight of Rayner and said, “Oh, I see they got you out of bed, too. Disrespectful young people. Majesty. Lady Bethany.”

  Brennus flashed Bethany a grin, but he got up to do as the old man wished. With everyone assembled, Bethany unfolded the letter she’d been clutching to read it aloud.

  Beth,

  I’ve found Erem. Or, more specifically, I’ve found where he is. There was a rumor that Jud had a captive from the wars who was the last practicing Magi. The guards are all from Wyllow and no knights from Orchard Park are even allowed down below.

  I tried poking around, so Jud issued a warrant for my arrest if I step foot on the causeway to the temple. But I’m sure it’s Erem in there. It sounds like Jud is torturing him to get...well, you can use your brain for that part. I can’t get him out by myself. I’m too well known. I’ve written Marcia and my parents for help, but I suspect there’s nothing we can do without force. I’d hate to start another war, but...

  Don’t bother writing me until you arrive, if you even think you can. I’m going to be dodging Jud’s asshole for two more months to see if I can find anything else. After that, if I don’t hear from you, I’m going to take a ship north. Hopefully, this reaches you all the same.

  Things aren’t safe here, Beth. If you come, come in stealth. Speaking well of you is a chargeable offense near Jud. Things are not the same here.