“Do you require an escort?” the gatekeeper inquired. “For a small additional fee.” As he spoke, he kicked the boot of a young man who lay sprawled fast asleep next to a barrel. The boy shook himself awake and gazed around.
Kai shook his head. “I know the way of old,” he said, surprised that the gatekeeper had not recognized him.
Of course, he had been a lot younger the last time he had planted his boots on these stone steps.
As he climbed up the stairway, he found he had to stop and catch his breath. “What’s this, Kai Jagger?” he asked himself. “Getting old?” Glancing down, he saw the splatters of dried mud on his riding boots. Lifting his hand to his face, he realized that his skin was caked in dust from the morning’s journey. And he must smell a treat too. He was in no fit state to greet Queen Nina—she would think him a ruffian. Well, there was always the option of a quick trip to the palace hammam. He continued on his way.
When he finally reached the summit of the stairway, feeling the exertion in every muscle of his legs, he paused to take in the vertiginous view back down the cliff. It was as if, with each step up to the summit, he had traveled back further and further into his past.
The impression was only enhanced as he emerged from the cliff stairs directly onto one of the palace’s three sky bridges. Courtiers and visitors bustled in both directions across the bridge, too tangled up in gossip to stop and appreciate the rare view.
Kai stood for a moment, allowing them to pass hurriedly by. He was beginning to feel as if he had never been away.
And then he saw her. She was standing on the opposite side of the bridge. She had put up her hair. It accentuated the swanlike curve of her neck.
“Nina!” he called out to her, his voice husky with dust and his recent exertion.
She did not respond.
He lifted his hand to wave at her but, just as he did so, people surged past and cut off his view. His heart beat wildly. “Nina!” he called again, but as the people dispersed, he saw nothing but an empty space. He circled on the spot. She had vanished into thin air.
“Kai Jagger.”
Just the sound of her voice speaking his name again after all this time caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He turned, and the sight of her instantly soothed him. She stood, framed in the open doorway of the palace chamber, majestic in a blue dress that emphasized not only the color of her eyes but also how well she had kept her figure. A stray shaft of sunlight coming in at the casement played on her blond hair. He was pleased that she still wore it long. He drank in the sight of her: her cool, commanding eyes, even more lovely than in his memory; her sharp cheekbones; her narrow lips closed but smiling in that particular way of hers, hinting at secret thoughts. The few fine lines etched in the corners of her eyes only enhanced her beauty.
“So it really is you.” She smiled. “I thought it might be some kind of trick.”
He shook his head, feeling a weight of emotion surging through him. “No, Nina. It is no trick.”
“How long has it been?” Still she did not move toward him.
“Too long. Much too long.”
He noticed for the first time that she had not entered the chamber alone but in the company of a maid. She turned to address her companion.
“You may leave us, Bathsheba,” she told her. “But perhaps our guest would like some tea?” She caught Kai’s eye—and he was seventeen again. “Yes. Bring us some tea, if you would be so kind.”
The young woman made a discreet exit. Nina waited a moment, then walked toward him. As she did so, he saw that the bodice of her dress was studded with diamonds that shimmered as she made her approach. She lifted her hand and traced the side of his cheek, her thumb and forefinger brushing the soft hairs of his beard.
Her touch was electric. Kai felt as if he were coming to life again after a century of slumber.
“The years have been good to you,” Nina said.
He smiled, instantly at ease with her. “I’m not so sure. When I see my reflection in the waters of the fjord, my first thought is that I’m looking into my father’s face.”
Nina shook her head. “No, Kai. You are as handsome as ever. A little beaten by the wind and the weather, but still every bit as handsome.”
“And you…,” he began. But words would not come. They were drowned out by the swell of emotion sweeping through him. He took a breath and was aware of her hand, reaching to take hold of his.
“We don’t have much time,” she said. “I’m sorry for that.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, luxuriating in her touch and the summer scent of her. “Do you remember when it felt like we had all the time in the world?” he asked.
She did not answer but took his hand and led him slowly toward a window seat.
Her touch was magnetic. Kai felt as if he had truly come home—more than that, as if he had never gone away. They sat side by side on the velvet cushions.
There was a knock on the door. At the sound, Nina withdrew her hand. “Enter!”
The same young girl had returned with a tray of tea things. She placed the small pot, delicate tea bowls and a plate of kumquats on a low table beside them. “Will that be all?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you. You may go.” As the girl withdrew, Nina poured them each a bowl of sweetly perfumed tea.
“How is Prince Ciprian?” he found himself asking.
Nina considered the question. “Manipulative. Angry. Easily bored.”
Kai frowned. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“Ciprian is Ciprian,” she said. “He has always been predictable in his changeability.” Her eyes met his. “Kai, why are you here?”
He took a breath. “I need an audience with the Prince.”
“What do you want from him?” Nina asked.
Kai set down the bowl of tea. “Archenfield is under the threat of imminent invasion from Paddenburg. Prince Jared is intent upon securing alliances to strengthen not only Archenfield, but all five of the river territories.”
“You have come seeking an alliance,” Nina said, as if to herself, then her voice strengthened. “But why did Prince Jared send you, rather than coming here himself?”
Kai nodded. “Time is in short supply. Prince Jared and Prince Rohan of Rednow have concluded an agreement. Together, they are now en route to see Prince Séverin. I agreed to come to talk to Prince Ciprian.”
She leaned back on the seat. “I am so sorry,” she said. “But he won’t see you, Kai. He believes that you turned your back on your Prince and your homeland all those years ago. He granted me the briefest of audiences with you, but he is adamant that he will not set eyes upon you himself. And you must leave the Princedom before the sun falls, or he will set his guards upon you.”
“Can you not exert your powers of persuasion upon him?”
Nina turned her face from his, gazing out through the window. “In truth, my influence upon him diminishes each day. I am but one of three wives, remember.”
Kai shook his head. “How could I ever forget?” A note of bitterness crept into his voice. “You chose a third of the Prince over the whole of a life with me.”
“No,” Nina said, turning back toward him. “I made no choice. The Prince chose me.” Her eyes were suddenly as sharp as flint. “When the Prince chooses you, it is treason to say no.” She looked suddenly pensive and lowered her voice. “The one thing I draw comfort from now is that his health is erratic. There was an incident a few months ago… It is just possible that he will not endure to wear his wedding robes once more.”
Ciprian’s health was failing. He might not live to see another summer. This changed everything. Possibilities took flight like butterflies.
“You’re smiling,” she observed.
“It is wrong, I know, but I cannot help my emotions, Nina.” He leaned forward and grasped her hands in his. “You will be free. At last, you can leave Baltiska!”
She smiled, gazing down at their interlaced fingers. “Is tha
t how you imagine this… fairy tale will unfold? That the brutal prince will die and I will suddenly be liberated after all these years in my ivory tower? That you and I will ride down to the river and on through the gates? To where? To Archenfield?”
Each thing she said was thrilling to him. “Yes,” he said. “Any of that. All of that.”
“None of that,” she said, drawing her fingers free. “None of that can happen, Kai. If Ciprian dies—when he dies—my life grows more complicated, not less.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There is my daughter to think of,” she explained. “Nelufar is Ciprian’s oldest surviving child and, in that respect, his first heir. But there is a boy, by the second of his wives—yes, the one everyone thought was barren—and a year younger than my Nel. He is just sixteen—the same age, I believe, as your Prince Jared. And he has his sights set most intently upon the throne—as do those who swarm around him.” She shook her head. “So you see, I cannot leave. I must remain here to protect my precious Nel and her interests. I must stay to protect my daughter’s life.”
As he heard the words, something clicked into place for Kai. “The girl on the bridge,” he said.
“I’m sorry?” Nina seemed confused by his words.
“I saw a beautiful girl on the bridge,” he said. “With blond hair and blue eyes. I thought it was you. But it was your daughter—Nelufar. She is very lovely.”
“Yes,” Nina said with a smile. “She is the most precious thing to me in all the world.” She reached out her hand and took his again. “But know this, Kai Jagger—you are the only other one who matters to me. When the time comes, Nel will need all the allies she can muster. Though you left the Princedom many years ago, still you are cousin to the Prince and have valid claim to your father’s lands.” She hesitated. “You once asked me to go away with you. Would it be wrong of me now to ask you to stay? For the sake of me and my daughter.”
Kai held tight to her hand. Her words had opened up a door he had thought forever closed to him. But, nonetheless, he was not free to make the choice. As much as he loved her—and he loved her with a vastness that called to mind the winter skies—his actions were circumscribed by his position. “I’m sorry, Nina, my precious Nina,” he said. “For now, my duties lie elsewhere.”
Nina nodded. “Then you must go. Our time has come to an end. But I will not have you leaving here without knowing the weight of what you mean to me. In all these years, I have thought of you not only every single day, but every hour.”
Kai did not know how to respond. He had come seeking an alliance and he had utterly failed in his mission.
Yet he was leaving with something infinitely more precious.
Slipping her fingers from his, Nina rose to her feet. “I am sorry that this has proved a wasted journey for you.”
He shook his head. “I assure you, this was very far from a wasted journey.”
TWENTY-SIX
The Queen’s Library, the Palace, Archenfield
“SHE SENT FOR ME,” MORGAN TOLD THE PORTLY guard, standing outside the door to the Queen’s Library.
The guard nodded, a familiar glint in his eye. “I’m sure she did…”
Morgan was used to such looks, such remarks. He was tempted to reach out a muscular arm, take the guard by the throat and remind him where he stood within the hierarchy of Archenfield. Instead, he smiled a well-practiced smile and waited a moment.
As the heavy oak door closed behind him, the Executioner found himself alone in the octagonal-shaped room with which he had become so familiar. The room had a very particular smell—the commingling of the thick, wooden bookcases and the multitude of leather-bound, parchment-rich volumes lining them.
Long ago, standing in that room as a mere boy, he had wrinkled his small nose at it. Now, the very particular odor delighted him.
Was it best described as dank, he mused, or fusty? Stale, perhaps? No, on balance, he would have to say—musty. He smiled to himself. Had it not been for Elin and the care she had taken with him over the years, he would not have been able to conjure any of those words.
Still smiling, he crossed the room to what had become his favorite section of the library. There, on a low shelf, was a collection of books gifted to Elin by a royal family from Litaria, one of the more distant territories. Morgan reached out and removed the first in the collection. The touch of its smooth leather binding was now as familiar to him as the skin on his own cheek.
Holding the book in his left hand, he reached into the gap it had left on the shelf and depressed a lever that lay hidden beyond. The entire panel of wall nudged gently open, creating another doorway for Morgan to step through. He could already smell the trademark scent of mimosa that awaited him beyond—in what he often thought of as his secret garden.
Replacing the leather-bound volume, Morgan walked through the narrow aperture into a hidden chamber. There, draped like a dryad on the velvet chaise—the fabric the perfect match for her lapis eyes—was Queen Elin.
Morgan closed the panel.
Beside the reclining queen, one of her favorite beeswax candles burned low in its glass, not only scenting her bower but sending the softest light across Elin’s strikingly handsome features. Morgan could not help but stare, knowing that she would not scold him for doing so. His eyes hungrily reacquainted themselves with the noble line of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows and the strong cheekbones that imbued her face with such nobility. She gave the slightest twist of her elegant neck to meet his gaze but otherwise lay still as he moved over to her, bowing down so that he could kiss her tenderly on the lips.
She smiled. “And after a hundred years of solitary slumber,” she said, “the kiss from the handsome prince woke the maiden as gently as the touch of fresh mountain rain.”
He liked it when she quoted from stories they had read together. She moved her hand up toward his cheek. “You grow more handsome every day,” she said.
He moved to a chair opposite as she sat up—sheaths of soft tulle floating like the soft wings of butterflies.
“My darling Morgan, there are things we need to discuss. Much is changing within the court at this time.”
Morgan felt a tightness in his chest. Was she about to utter the words that he so dreaded—that they could not continue with these afternoon meetings?
“You look tired,” she said. “Come over here.”
He sat down beside her on the chaise. She patted her lap and, needing no further encouragement, he laid his head down in the folds of her skirt, extending his legs so that the backs of his boots rested on the wooden edge of the chaise and would not soil the blue velvet.
As he lay there, cosseted by the softness of her skirts—the surprising softness of her—he felt as if he were floating on water, or perhaps a cloud.
“With the threat of the Paddenburg Ultimatum hanging over us all, and Prince Jared away pursuing alliances, I fear that there are unscrupulous people within the court who might seek to take advantage.”
Elin paused in case Morgan had something to say, but all he did was gently exhale.
“I say ‘unscrupulous,’” Elin continued, “but in truth, such people would better be described as reckless. This is not the moment to challenge the status quo—when we are facing the enormity of an attack, it is nothing less than reckless to contemplate another attack from within the very heart of court.” As their eyes met, she saw something akin to panic in his face. “Don’t you agree?”
He swallowed. “Yes, my lady.”
She smiled warmly. “I’m glad, Morgan. I felt sure you would.” She leaned back again and resumed stroking his hair. “Your family and mine have been connected for such a long time now. Your grandfather, Atticus, fought on the same battlefield as my late husband, in Prince Goran’s younger days. Then your father, Atticus Junior, took up the fight in his turn.”
She saw traces of tears in Morgan’s eyes as she spoke of his forebears. Moved, she took his hand, and was surprised by the force with wh
ich he grasped hers. “And you have continued that same loyalty. You fought alongside my husband at the battle that took his life, and you served my first son as now you serve my second.”
She watched, surprised, as the tears fell from Morgan’s eyes. “You have honored your father and grandfather so well. I know you would have made your father proud. I remember when I first offered to help school you, he was grateful beyond measure.” She paused, smiling. “What a rough scrap of a thing you were back then, Morgan. All long limbs and wide eyes, like some crazy insect—not at all the handsome creature you have transformed into now. But it was my pleasure to take that rough-hewn beast and teach him the power of words and speech and stories. It began as a kindness to your dutiful father, but in time it became something I wanted to do for you and you alone.”
She gazed fondly on him, seeing that though he had closed his eyes, still water was escaping from under his thick, dark lashes. “Don’t cry, Morgan. Times are difficult now, but the way through them is to stand up for what we believe is right. The Wynyards and the Booths have always looked out for each other. That’s all we need to do now.” She smiled as his eyes opened once more. “I know I can count on you.”
She leaned down to kiss him; his lips were salty from the trail of his tears.
As she drew back, she heard him speak, his voice husky.
“And after a hundred years of solitary slumber,” he said, “the kiss from the beautiful maiden woke the youth as gently as the soft spring breeze.”
Queen Elin took her leave first, having kissed him again tenderly, her hands running up and down his arms as he gazed at her lips and she told him how pleased she was they had had the chance to talk about such important matters.
After she had gone on her way, he lay back down on the blue velvet chaise and cried again. This time, he did not try to control his upset but allowed his emotions to emerge in violent sobs, which sent tremors through the length of his body.