Lynn Flewelling - Hidden Warrior

Her nurse rolled over in the bed with an angry grunt. “Gone mad? Who’s gone mad? If this is another of your night terrors, Alin, I’ll skin you!”

“No, Vena, listen.” Nalia ran to the window that overlooked the bailey and pushed the leaded pane open. Far below she could see torches moving, and hear the clash of steel. “What’s happening, Alin?”

“The grey guard has turned on the Cirna garrison. They’re slaughtering them!”

“We must bar the door!” Vena lit a candle from the banked coals, then helped Alin set the heavy beam across the iron brackets. Leaving him at the door, she brought Nalia a shawl and stood listening to the inexplicable chaos below.

It died away at last and Nalia clung trembling to her nurse, fearful of what the quiet might mean. Outside there was nothing but the distant sigh of the waves against the cliffs.

“My lady, look there!” Alin pointed to the other window, the one that faced south over the isthmus road. A long line of torches was approaching quickly along it. As they drew closer, Nalia could make out the riders who carried them, and hear the jangle of harness and mail.

“It’s an attack!” she whispered.

“The Plenimarans have come,” Vena wailed. “O Maker, save us!”

“But why would the grey guard attack the others inside the walls? What can it mean?”

Nearly an hour passed before they heard footsteps on the tower stairs. Vena and Alin pushed Nalia into the far corner, shielding her with their bodies.

The latch rattled. “Nalia, my dear, it’s only me. You’re quite safe. Open the door.”

“Niryn!” Nalia ran to the door and struggled to heave the bar aside. “That was you on the road? Oh, you gave us such a fright!” The bar clattered to the floor. She flung the door open and fell into her lover’s arms, feeling safe again.

Two Harrier guardsmen stood just behind him. “What’s happening?” she asked, fearful again. Niryn never allowed any other men in her tower; the red hawks on the front of their tunics looked black as ravens in the dim light. “Alin said the men were fighting each other.”

Niryn’s beard tickled her bare shoulder as he gently pushed her away. “Mutiny and treason, my dear, but it’s over now and you have nothing to fear. In fact, I bring you wonderful news. Tell your servants to leave us.”

Blushing but delighted, Nalia nodded at Vena and Alin and they hurried out as they always did. The guardsmen made way for them, but remained. “My lord, I’ve missed you so—”

She tried to embrace him again, but he held her at arm’s length. As she gazed up at that beloved face, some trick of the candle made his eyes look hard. She took a step back, pulling the shawl closer around her. “Something is wrong. Tell me, please.”

He smiled again, and the same ungenerous light stretched it into a leer. “This is a great day, Nalia. A very great day.”

“What—what do you mean, my lord?”

“I have someone I want you to meet.” He nodded to the guards and they stepped aside to let another man pass. Shocked, Nalia tugged, at her shawl again.

This one was young and very handsome, but he was dirty and unshaven, too, and smelled appalling. Nonetheless, she recognized the arms on his filthy surcoat and sank to her knees before him. “Prince Korin?”

“King Korin,” Niryn corrected gently. “I present Lady Nalia.”

“This? This is the one?” The young king’s look of disgust chilled her more than the night air.

“Her blood is true, I assure you,” Niryn said, going to the door.

Nalia watched in growing alarm as he stepped from the room and began to slowly close it after him. “Nalia, allow me to present your new husband.”