chapter SEVENTEEN
IT WAS A return to their early days in Tiralien—before the affairs of the kingdom intervened and Markus Khandarr executed Dedrick Maszuryn. Before they conceived their separation. If she could put a number to those days, she knew it would be no more than three or four months from the time when they admitted their love, to when Dedrick first approached Raul about spying in Duenne’s Court, and yet to memory’s eye, the interlude seemed an endless ribbon of pleasure and passion and contentment, which curled back upon itself and so continued forever.
We were Anike and Stefan, she thought. Two ordinary people without any concerns for the empire or magic.
Remembering those days, Ilse insinuated her arms around Raul and drew him tight against her chest. His smooth skin—unlike any other man’s—was like fire-warmed silk. His heart beat swiftly against hers, a mirror of her own painful emotions.
“I love you,” Raul whispered into her ear. “I always have.”
“Impossible. You loved Dedrick.”
Dedrick, once Lord Kosenmark’s beloved. Then his friend and spy. Now dead because of that love. For many months, Ilse had not been able to mention Dedrick’s name. Nor could Raul.
We were too new to love, in this life. We had to learn how to trust all over again.
Raul rolled onto his back, a familiar movement that brought her, by habit, to settle under his arm. It was like one puzzle piece fitted to its mate, one word linked to its proper companion.
“No,” he said. “I meant that first time in Andelizien. You were Sonja and I was Andreas. Or at least, that is the first I remember us together. Later, I came to Zalinenka from the emperor as an emissary to the court of Károví. You and he were prince and princess together. I was nothing but a messenger, stupid and young and homesick, but you were kind to me. I thought I would kill myself from desire.”
Her skin prickled at this host of images from her life dream the night before. “You were there? You remember?”
“Of course I remember. And yes, I have always been there.”
Like the earth beneath her feet.
“I’ve dreamed of those days,” she whispered. “Of Leos Dzavek. I had not known…”
“Nor had I.” His voice, high and fluting, whispered back to her. “But lately I’ve dreamed more of those past lives.”
He pulled her close, but not for lovemaking, only to hold each other in warmth while the stars wheeled overhead and the moon swept down to the horizon. They slept, limbs entangled, as in the olden days, days from just a year ago. Toward midnight, Ilse stirred and woke, to find Raul awake. The sky had cleared and a bright moon shone through the canvas. He rested his head on one hand and gazed upon her with a foolish grin. “I should not have such joy within me,” he said.
She kissed him, tasted the salt of his skin, the sweetness of his mouth. “We take joy as we take the sun-bright days of summer.”
Joy.
Unexpectedly, a pang shot through her—so sharp and strong, she had to bite her lip to keep from weeping. She shook her head and her unruly hair tumbled loose between them. Later, she would have to braid it fresh for the night. Such an ordinary thought, for such an extraordinary day. She found she could not hold back the tears, and she wept. Wept for their newly rediscovered love, for the new exile she had chosen, for any number of reasons that she and he could not be Stefan and Anike, simply living together.
I chose my new exile, she told herself. I chose it, and he agreed.
And yet she could see no other path.
“Hush,” Raul whispered into her ear. “We have not reached the end of this life together. Do not give up hope.”
“How long?” she managed to say. “How long until the ship comes for our queen?”
“That depends on my secretary.”
The words acted like an antidote to sorrow.
“You have a new secretary?”
Raul laughed softly at her surprise. “It wasn’t my idea. He came to me three months ago with a raft of well-written recommendations and a story of how he disliked the northern winters and wanted to try a post in the south for once. He was very clever. It took me weeks before I discovered he was Dedrick’s cousin.”
A cousin? The news shook her unaccountably. She had known about Dedrick’s sister in court, and his unrelenting father, but she had not suspected a wider world of relatives. It was a fatal error to think all families were like her own, small and insular.
Raul went on to describe the new secretary. He had given his name as Gerek Hessler, but his true name was Lord Gerek Haszler. He was Dedrick’s second cousin, from a minor branch of the family. The man had infiltrated Lord Kosenmark’s house, and during Raul’s one brief absence, had gained access to Raul’s private chambers. Raul described his own discovery of the man’s identity, and their confrontation when Raul unexpectedly reappeared.
“He is a good man,” Raul said. “Clever with words and languages. Not so clever with his tongue. I believe he cares about Kathe.”
Another unexpected bit of information, which Ilse needed a few moments to digest.
“What does Kathe think?” she asked.
“Ah, that I have not dared to inquire,” Raul said. “These days, she glares at me as if I were a recalcitrant kitchen girl. Even her mother dislikes crossing her. If I were bold enough to guess, I would say she is disappointed.”
“Because of this Gerek?”
“I do not know. That would be prying.”
His tone was so prim, she had to laugh out loud. “You. How dare you pretend not to pry?”
He laughed, too, his face buried in her hair. “And you, you are too good for me.”
“How, good?”
“Honest, then,” he said.
The brief wave of mirth vanished at the word honest, and Ilse pressed her face into Raul’s shoulder to stop her tears.
Once, she had thought herself honest. Raul had told her he depended on that quality.
Once, she and Kathe had shared confidences. They were friends, from the first days, when Ilse came to the pleasure house, and Kathe had tended her through her sickness and losing the child. She had remained her best friend throughout Ilse’s transformation from kitchen girl, to secretary, to the days when Ilse and Raul had become lovers. But Ilse and Raul’s plans had required a complete deception of the pleasure house and all their friends. That had included Kathe.
Time, and necessity, had worn away her honesty.
Not quite trusting her voice, Ilse said, “Will you promise me something? Tell her … tell Kathe the truth. But only when it’s safe. Please.”
Raul drew her into a tighter embrace. “I promise. I will tell her the truth the moment I return to Tiralien. Speaking of messages, I have a confession to make…”
His voice went high and light, like a bird’s.
“What is wrong, then?” she asked, trying to keep the anxiety from her own voice, and failing.
He exhaled sharply, as if bracing himself for an unpleasant confession. “Do you remember a man named Alesso Valturri?” he said.
She was so intent on him and his moods that she missed the name at first, and its import. Then, “You know Alesso? He’s the one—”
“—who brought me word of your escape. I know. He also works for me.”
It took her several moments to comprehend what he said.
“You sent him to Osterling.”
“No. He was born there. I knew him through various reports. Lord Joannis and … others.”
Meaning his network of spies. Her first impulse was to rage at him. How dare he set spies upon her? Raul must have guessed her mood, because he loosened his embrace and drew back.
“I have no excuse,” he said. “None except worry about your safety. After Dedrick—”
Yes, Dedrick. She checked her first furious response. “I understand.”
He kissed her, lightly and tentatively. “I doubt it.”
She nearly did strike him then. “You—”
“Idiot,” he said immediately. “Idiot. Fool. An interfering creature who pretends omniscience, when he wants to hide how afraid he is.”
She wanted to laugh again, but her heart was at war with the rest of her nerves, and she could only clutch him tightly while she brought her emotions under a semblance of control.
“Who is he?” she whispered. “Who is he really?”
“Exactly what he seems, but more. He’s a kitchen boy and serving man in Andeliess’s pleasure house. He’s also a rebel who works for a collection of the disaffected in Fortezzien. He agreed to watch over you. Your safety, I mean. In return I promised to consider his cause if ever I gained more influence in Duenne’s Court.” He added, “He is a persuasive young man.”
Oh yes. Even when he did not mean to be. Which brought her to her own confession
“He drugged my wine,” Ilse said. “He kissed me. No, let me tell the truth. I kissed him. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked. “For kissing Alesso? I would have kissed him, too, no doubt, if he had poisoned my wine. Do you love him?”
“No, but—”
“Do you want to bed him?”
“No,” she said, softer than before. “But what does it mean? For us?”
Raul took her hand and kissed her palm. “It means we are human, my love. Flawed and wandering in purpose at times. What else it means is your decision. I love you,” he added.
The knots inside her broke. “I love you.”
* * *
EVENTUALLY THEY GAVE over lovemaking and conversation and slept, slept until morning broke over the Gallenz hills. Ilse rolled onto her back and stared upward. A circle of sunlight illuminated the canvas above. Patches of shadow, however, covered one end of the tent. Midmorning or later, she guessed. Outside, she heard the guards discussing what to forage for the midday dinner.
She closed her eyes and lay quietly, listening to Ada Geiss and Theo bickering quietly over who had responsibility for the latrines. She recalled nothing of her dreams, ordinary or otherwise. Had she traveled beyond them, or had exhaustion overrun any warnings from her past?
Except you dreamed of him, of Dzavek, just the night before.
Raul stirred. His hands reached toward her.
“You are awake.”
“I slept enough.”
A flicker of tension passed over his face.
“Is that true?”
She wanted to lie, to smile and say all was well, but his proximity, the nearness of himself and their reunion, made that impossible.
“No,” she whispered. “How could I? We have a few weeks and then…”
His eyes, inches from hers, were wide and bright. “Then we must do our best to secure the right promises from your queen.”
He rose and pulled on his shirt and trousers. Ilse dressed in her new clothes and brushed out her hair with a comb he produced from one of the packs. It was, she noted, her favorite comb from her days in Tiralien. She thought she had packed the item before she departed the first time. Its unexpected reappearance unsettled her.
“Are you ready?” Raul asked.
She nodded.
A substantial breakfast awaited them, provided by the morning cook detail. Camp bread. Porridge flavored with spices and dried fruit. The coffee was fresh this time. Most of the guards had eaten already and separated to their various tasks, including Galena, whom Detlef had assigned to a foraging expedition. Valara had not yet shown herself.
She’s not certain what to expect from us, Ilse thought.
Her guess was confirmed when Valara emerged from her tent. Her face and manner were wary, and she spoke only briefly in response to Ilse’s greeting. However, she politely accepted a plateful of food and mug of coffee from one of the guards.
Raul paid Valara no attention at first. While the three of them ate, he sorted through orders with Detlef. Katje and Theo would hire horses in Emmetz and ride back to Tiralien. “They leave within the hour,” he said. “I will write a letter with instructions for Maester Hessler.”
Valara waited until Detlef withdrew to the camp’s perimeter before she spoke. “You agree then?” she said. “About the ship?”
“It depends,” Raul replied, “on our conversation this morning. Whatever its outcome, I will have instructions for my secretary.”
Valara set aside her mug and plate. “Speak then. What more do you want from me?”
Ilse felt the air tremble, as if magic’s current had awakened. If Raul sensed it, he gave no sign. He stared at Valara, his gaze as uncompromising as hers. Both had their faces turned in profile to her. It was then she saw, with a shock of sudden recognition, the resemblance between them. The shape of cheek and jaw. The flat nose. The golden brown complexion. Oh, there were differences, too—the folds at the corner of Raul’s eyelids were almost invisible, his eyes were golden and hers dark, nor was her coloring as fair as his—but it was like the difference between brother and sister.
Was it possible that Valara’s people had sailed west to the continent, centuries ago?
Then Raul stirred and Ilse thrust aside any speculation to listen to what he would say.
“I agree to nearly all your terms,” he said. “However, I have several of my own. First, as Ilse stipulated, you will render all assistance to her so that she might recover Lir’s third jewel. Do not,” he said harshly, as Valara started to speak, “refuse this condition. And do not pretend you can do nothing to help. You spent years searching for the jewels. You recovered one. Even if you could recover the third on your own, your knowledge would aid Veraene to do so. That would ensure a balance between the three kingdoms.”
He paused. Valara’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright with fury. “Go on,” she said roughly.
“You agree?” he asked.
“I say nothing. What are your other conditions?”
“Just two more. In return for your assistance, and to guarantee my part, Ilse Zhalina remains your hostage for one year—”
“That is not long enough,” Valara said sharply.
Raul’s mouth curled into a smile. “It is more than enough. Agree, or I leave you to wander Veraene alone. Unless you think you can find another ally, Leos Dzavek or Markus Khandarr will eventually recapture you. The consequences you can picture.”
“Is that all?”
“No. We require a hostage in return. Once the ship reaches Morennioù, you will choose someone from your court. Ilse Zhalina must approve the choice, of course. That person will sail back with my ship and my crew. It is the only means I have,” he added, “of ensuring your cooperation.”
As expected, Valara Baussay argued every point. Each time, Raul Kosenmark repeated his willingness to set her free in Veraene to find her own way home. In the end, she conceded the time limit and the need for an exchange of hostages. More argument followed on the logistics for exchanging those hostages. Valara wanted Ilse to come ashore on Enzeloc first. Raul insisted the man or woman from Morennioù’s Court board the ship. They bickered over guards and weapons and how to ensure that one side did not gain undue advantage over the other. In the end, Valara agreed that Ilse might remain on the ship until her own candidate boarded. After all, she said, Morennioù’s navy could overtake them if his people reneged on Lord Kosenmark’s promises.
But the limit of one year she refused to allow.
“You want me to promise my kingdom’s neutrality,” she said.
It was an hour after they had set aside their plates and coffee mugs. An hour of wrangling and bickering. Of accusations wrapped in polite tones and oblique terms. Eventually, Valara agreed to a limit of three years. After that, depending on the state of her kingdom, she would release Ilse Zhalina to return home, but she would make no promise beyond that about her kingdom’s role. At Raul’s insistence, she pledged never to release Ilse to Lord Markus Khandarr.
The compromise was imperfect, but it would do.
Raul and Ilse retired to their tent, where Raul would write the detailed instructions to his secretary for securing a ship.
“Do you believe her?” Ilse asked, as she watched him unlock his portable desk and lay out his writing materials.
“No,” Raul said. “But she has conceded enough that I do not mind.”
He did mind, she thought, observing the tense line of his jaw, the overbrightness of his eyes. She minded, too, if you could use so mild a word, but she also noted that neither of them mentioned breaking the agreement, or proposing a different plan. They had little choice, if they wanted to prevent war between the three kingdoms.
Kingdom. Empire. Shatter. The next word link hovered just beyond her grasp.
She gave that over and watched as Raul wrote his orders to his secretary. “What are your plans, then? Your next plans?”
He answered without a pause in writing. “Gerek will find a ship. He thinks he cannot, but he will. He underestimates himself constantly. Once he does, he will send it to the Kranjě Islands. We, however, will march in double time to the coast. There we will hire or steal a boat and sail to Hallau.”
The Kranjě Islands were part of Károví, but isolated from the mainland by a storm-ridden strait. Hallau was the largest of the Jelyndak Islands, which lay a hundred miles south, off the coast of Veraene proper.
“You don’t trust him?” she asked. “Your secretary, I mean.”
“I trust him. I do not trust Markus Khandarr.”
He was remembering Dedrick’s death at Khandarr’s hands. She could tell by the way his gaze turned inward. Deception would not save Gerek if Khandarr questioned him and disliked his answers, but it might deceive the man long enough for Valara Baussay to escape home. Raul knew that, too.
Raul finished his letter, sealed it with wax and magic. He used a complicated spell that Ilse did not recognize. Then he wrote a second letter, which he sealed with ordinary magic. He summoned Katje and Theo, and handed them the two envelopes. “Give these into Gerek’s hands directly. No one else’s. He will have further orders for you both.”
Ilse waited until they had gone, and Raul had packed away his pens and ink into his writing desk. “I have one more concern,” she said.
“Your brother?” he asked.
She had not expected that. It took her a moment to quell the old memories of Melnek. “No, it’s about Galena Alighero. She risked everything to help us. I would like to know what happens to her after I’m gone.”
He locked the desk and laid a hand over its latch. His movements were so slow and deliberate, she decided he was avoiding the question. “Well?” she asked.
Raul shrugged. “Tell me about the mark on her cheek. The word says Honor.”
“You are ruthless,” she murmured.
“Of course. Tell me.”
With a sigh, she recounted Galena’s story. She told Raul about the girl’s infatuation, her quarrels with Ranier Massow, the moment of cowardice during the battle, and how she wanted Ilse to lie for her. After briefly describing Galena’s punishment, including the mark, she went on to the night when Valara escaped. How Alesso meant to kill Galena, and the moment in Osterling’s streets when Galena realized it. She offered more detail about the journey, and how they would not have reached Emmetz without Galena’s experience in tracking and hunting.
“She is foolish, impetuous, and far too willing to avoid responsibility,” Ilse said. “And yet…”
“And yet you think you ought to help her.” Raul blew out a breath. “Very well. Let her travel with us. Detlef can give her regular duties. After we accomplish our meeting with the ship, I’ll write her a letter of recommendation to a mercenary company. You say our friend the queen has promised to remove this mark?”
“Yes. Or at least she claims she can. We didn’t dare use magic before, in case they tracked us with mages.”
He nodded. “A good decision. My guess would be that removing it requires extraordinary magic—it would be a glaring signal to Khandarr and any other mage. I’ll have Detlef tell the girl we can’t do anything for her until the ship.”
The ship. Always the ship.
“How long do you think we have?” she asked.
Raul gathered her hands within his. “Ten days. Possibly two weeks. We’ll hire a boat and sail to Hallau. The rest depends on how long Gerek requires for his part.”
Of course. So much depended on these arcane transactions. She had the important details, however. Ten more nights, possibly a handful more, until she began a longer and more distant exile.