David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Of all the nobles in Castle Yserne, only her father continued to argue against the measures they had taken, and, not by coincidence, only her father still maintained that Kreazur could not have been a traitor. Diani knew what lay behind his intransigence. To admit that the first minister was a traitor was to admit that his beloved Dalvia had erred in choosing Kreazur to serve House Curlinte so many years ago. Still, though the duchess found it hard to blame Sertio for his devotion to her mother, she did find her father’s repeated defenses of the first minister embarrassing. And earlier this day, the second of the new waxing, she had made the mistake of telling him so.

They had been in the marketplace, strolling among the peddlers’ carts and stalls, enjoying the first clear day since the middle of the previous waning. A soft breeze ruffled the heavy cloth with which so many of the sellers covered their carts, and the air smelled clean and sweet, as from the blossoms that had begun to appear on the hills above the castle and city. Even with the guards walking ahead of them and behind, it would have been easy on a day such as this to forget about the Qirsi and their conspiracy, but Sertio wouldn’t allow it, staring glumly at the wares displayed by each vender, and saying little.

“You should buy something, Father,” Diani said, hoping to pull him from his dolor. “A new blade perhaps, or at least a new sheath for the old one.”

“I have no need of a new blade, or a new sheath.”

She looked at the sheath hanging on his belt, raising an eyebrow. “Have you looked recently at the one you have?”

“The one I have was given to me by your mother.”

“During which dynasty?”

He grinned at that, though only briefly. “It just needs a bit of oil, that’s all. I’ll take care of it when we return to the castle.”

“Well, a new blade, then.”

“I told you, I have no need of one. This dagger was a gift from your mother as well.”

“Oh, Father,” she said, throwing up her hands and shaking her head. “So what if it was from Mother? Do you think that she’d expect you to keep all the gifts she gave you for the rest of time, even after they had outlived their usefulness?”

“I expect that I would do so,” he said severely. “And I’d expect you to as well.”

Diani closed her eyes for a moment, realizing that she had spoken rashly. “I would never throw away anything that was hers,” she said quietly. “You know that. But neither would I keep using a blade of hers if it no longer served its purpose. I might put it away, so that my children could see it, and their children in turn, but I wouldn’t hesitate to replace it with a better one when need demanded.”

Sertio stared past her, looking back toward the walls of the castle. “It seems you and I differ in this.”

“You can’t keep on like this, Father. She’s gone. We loved her, and we miss her, but she’s gone.”

His entire face seemed to turn to stone, his dark eyes still fixed on the queen’s fortress. “Don’t you think I know this?”

“You know it, but you make no attempt to ease your own grief. How long will you mourn her, Father? How much longer will you allow yourself to suffer?”

“I’ll mourn her as long as I live.”

“She wouldn’t want that. She’d want you to find happiness, even if that meant finding a new love.”

His eyes snapped to her face. “I could never love another! I’m appalled that you’d even suggest such a thing! You would have me forget her, forget the years we spent together?”

“I don’t expect you to forget anything. But you can’t live the rest of your years in the company of wraiths, nor can you cling to every token that reminds you of Mother. Some things need to be discarded, no matter the sentiments you attach to them.”

She could see the muscles in his jaw bunching as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. “I won’t listen to this,” he said.

“You must!” She strode after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to turn toward her. “I loved her, too. You know I did. But I also know that she wasn’t perfect. She was wise and strong and beautiful, but she made mistakes, just as all of us do.”

“Perhaps,” he said, his color high, so that his lean face appeared even more austere than usual. “But when she erred, it was on the side of kindness and trust and justice.”

Diani felt her cheeks burning as well. Somehow their argument had moved from daggers and sheaths to Kreazur and the other Qirsi.

“Hers was a simpler world than mine,” Diani said. “I face dangers today that Mother couldn’t have fathomed.”

Sertio shook his head, looking so sad. “Do you know how foolish you sound, Diani? You’re not the first duchess to be betrayed, nor even the first to have attempts made on her life. But a leader doesn’t surrender all to suspicion and fear simply for having been deceived once. Your mother understood that. I hope someday that you will as well.”

“You dare call me a fool? You’re the fool, arguing for Kreazur’s innocence when we all know that he was a traitor. You act like an old man who has lost all sense to his dotage. You shame our house with your simplicity.”

He stared at her another moment, looking sad and old. And in that instant, she wished that she could take the words back. No matter how blind his devotion to the first minister, she should never have spoken to him thus. But she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, or take back what she had said. A moment later, it was too late. Sertio was walking back toward the castle, and the soldiers who had accompanied them were looking at each other in confusion, wondering who among them should follow the duke, and who should remain with Diani.

She returned to the castle sometime later, searching halfheartedly for her father, and fearing that she might find him. Eventually she gave up, knowing that she’d see Sertio again when he wished to be found. She started back toward her own chamber, but before she had gone far, she saw the dukes of Brugaosa and Norinde. She had no desire to speak with them-though they now claimed to agree with Diani and the other duchesses on how best to face the conspiracy, Diani hardly considered either man a friend.

Before she could duck into another corridor, however, Edamo spotted her and raised a hand in greeting.

“A word please, Lady Curlinte.”

What choice did she have but to halt and wait for them? This, too, her father would have seen as a betrayal of her mother and their house. Diani was more convinced than ever that the Qirsi were responsible for Cyro’s murder. In a sense, House Curlinte and House Brugaosa were bound to each other by the tragedy, both of them victims of Qirsi treachery. Still, Sertio continued to blame the Brugaosans for the loss of his son, just as the white-hairs had intended. It almost seemed that the duke chose to be ensnared by the white-hairs’ deceptions, as if he found some perverse comfort in believing what the traitors wanted him to believe.

Edamo and Alao stopped before her, the older man smiling, the younger man merely watching her, without his usual sneer, but without much warmth either.

“Is there something you wish of me, Lord Brugaosa?”

“Lord Norinde and I were on our way to speak with the queen, and we thought it might help if you joined us.”

“What did you intend to discuss with her?”

“In light of the dangers facing all of Sanbira’s houses, and the preparations necessary-”

“We wish to return to our castles,” Alao broke in, glancing impatiently at the older man. “If we’re to wage a war against the Qirsi, we should be in command of our own armies. We can’t do that from here.”

“I gather,” Diani said, “that the queen wishes us to remain here until we’ve heard from the sovereigns of the other realms.”