David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“Yes, my lord.”

Aindreas could hear the disapproval in Villyd’s tone, but he chose to ignore it. He flicked the reins, and his horse started toward the castle once more.

“My lord!” the swordmaster called after him.

“Tell Kearney’s man I’ll speak with him tomorrow,” Aindreas answered, not even bothering to look back. “I trust he and the others will be comfortable until then.”

He rode the rest of the way up the tor as quickly as he dared. He didn’t allow the horse to break into a gallop, not wishing to appear afraid or too eager to be back within the walls of his fortress. But he felt himself trembling again, and he had to resist the urge to search for Brienne’s face among those he passed along the way.

As he ascended the winding road toward the castle gate, he saw Ioanna gazing down at him from same tower on which he had left her. She vanished from view before he reached the barbican, and Aindreas knew that she would be waiting for him by his presence chamber, anxious to hear what Kearney’s men had said to him. He would gladly have postponed the encounter until later, but he knew better than to try. Villyd and the others were afraid of him and easily put off; his wife was neither.

He left his mount at the stable and returned to his chamber. Ioanna stood in the corridor just outside the door.

“What did they want?” she asked, as he opened the door and gestured for her to enter the chamber.

He closed the door before facing her. “I don’t know yet. Their captain wishes to speak with me in private. I’ll grant him an audience tomorrow and hear what he has to say.”

“Why didn’t they come back with you to the castle?”

He looked away, stepping past her to stand behind his writing table.

“I didn’t offer to quarter them in the castle.”

If she thought him a fool, she did a fine job of concealing it.

“Do you think that’s wise?” was all she said, her voice even.

Of course I do , he wanted to say. Would I have done it otherwise? Instead he shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to welcome them within these walls. I’ve ordered Villyd to give them whatever provisions they require.” He gazed out the window, watching a flock of doves circle one of the towers. “If the weather holds, they’ll have no cause to complain.”

“They’d have no cause in any case,” she said. “Not after what Glyndwr and Curgh have done to us.”

Aindreas closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. There was so much he hadn’t told her, so much that she deserved to know. Yet he was afraid to reveal any of it, lest he see the shame he felt at all he had done reflected in her eyes.

“You must tell her.” Brienne’s voice.

Opening his eyes again, he saw the girl standing behind her mother, their hair the same shade of gold, their faces so similar that he nearly wept at the sight.

“What is it Aindreas?” Ioanna asked, a frown creasing her brow.

“Tell her, Father.”

“There’s something you should know,” he said, wishing Brienne would leave them alone. He paused, searching for the right way to begin. There’s something you should know . He nearly laughed aloud at his choice of words. The truth was he had so much he needed to tell her that he didn’t know where to begin. I spent the better part of the harvest torturing Qirsi in the castle dungeon, looking for someone who could lead me to the leaders of the white-hair conspiracy. Having finally found her, I proceeded to ally our house with the Qirsi traitors, all so that I could strike at Kearney and Javan and the others I believed at the time to be our enemies. I’ve since become convinced that it was the Qirsi and not Tavis who were to blame for Brienne’s death. I’ve betrayed our land and shamed our house for generations, all for nothing. I’m sorry .

That’s what he should have said. But even knowing this, he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. He looked past Ioanna once more, gazing at Brienne, hoping she could read the apology in his eyes. She shook her head, tears on her face, and then began to fade, as if swallowed by a sorcerer’s mist.

“Aindreas?”

“Yes,” he said, facing his wife again. “You remember the message that came from Kearney about a turn ago?”

“Of course.”

He took a breath. “In it, the king claimed to have imprisoned a Qirsi woman who had confessed to being with the conspiracy. This woman, according to Kearney’s message, had admitted arranging Brienne’s murder.”

Ioanna shook her head. “That’s impossible. Tavis of Curgh killed Brienne. We know that.”

“We know what we saw, Ioanna. But this woman-”

“No!” she said, shaking her head again, so that tears flew from her face. “There was blood on his hands! Her blood! His dagger-”

She choked on the word, gagging and struggling to breathe until Aindreas thought that she might be ill. He reached for her, but she backed away from him, her entire body shaking, her trembling hands raised to her face, her eyes wide and wild like those of a feral cat, cornered and afraid. “You believe them!” she whispered. “You think this woman might be telling the truth!”

“I don’t know what I-”

“Don’t say it!” She leveled a quaking finger at him. “Don’t you dare say it! He killed her! You know he did! They’re lying to protect themselves, because they’re afraid now! They know what they did to her, all of them! And they’re afraid!”

“Ioanna-”

“If you give in to them,” she said, her voice dropping low, the finger still aimed at his heart, like a blade, “if you surrender and let them do this, I’ll hate you for the rest of my days. I swear it to you on Brienne’s memory. We know what happened. They’re trying to change it, to confuse us and fool everybody else in the realm, but we know . Don’t let them do this, Aindreas. Do you understand? Don’t let them.”

What could he say to her? For so long he had been pouring his venom into her mind, telling her what he believed was true, and what he wanted her to believe as well. That she should spew the poison back at him with such fury was just one irony among too many. He took a step toward her, and this time she didn’t back away. A moment later she was pressing her face to his chest, sobbing like a babe, clutching his shirt with both hands. “Don’t let them,” she said again and again as he held her, stroking her head.

“I won’t,” he murmured at last. “I promise you I won’t.”

Eventually her tears began to slow, her sobbing to subside. Aindreas gestured to one of the servants skulking by the door.

“Summon the duchess’s ladies,” he told the boy quietly. “Tell them the duchess needs to rest.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Still Aindreas held her, until two of Ioanna’s servants came. Only then did he release her, kissing her forehead as she pulled away. She seemed dazed, only vaguely aware of where she was and who was with her. It was much the way she had been in the turns immediately following Brienne’s murder.

“Put her to bed,” he said to the women. “I’ll be in to see her later. If the children need anything, send them to me.”

They both curtsied, and one of them whispered, “Yes, my lord,” before they led Ioanna from the chamber.

The duke stood in the center of his presence chamber for several moments after they had gone, cursing himself for having said anything to her at all, and cursing the Qirsi for their treachery and the ease with which they had ensnared him.

“Wine!” he bellowed at last, returning to his chair by the writing table.

He picked up Jastanne’s message again. You must break with Kearney now, and hope that others will follow . They were asking him to knot his own rope and slip it around his own neck. They might as well have commanded him to lead Kentigern’s army to the City of Kings and lay siege to Audun’s Castle. None of the other dukes would stand with Kentigern now. Those who were inclined to side with the king would have been convinced by word of the Qirsi woman’s confession. And those who had sided with Aindreas thus far weren’t yet ready to stand in open defiance of the crown. Perhaps they would be eventually, when they knew for certain that they could stand together against an attack from the King’s Guard and Kearney’s allies, but not until then.