David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

When they turned yet another corner, however, and started down the same corridor they had walked an hour before, Evanthya could stand it no longer. She stopped, taking hold of Fetnalla’s arm so that the woman was forced to face her. Fetnalla had been speaking of the festival again, as if Evanthya had never seen one before. She fell silent now, looking off to the side, seeming to wait for Evanthya to question her again, or perhaps berate her.

Evanthya wanted to do both. But instead she stepped forward and placing a hand lightly on Fetnalla’s cheek so that the woman had to look at her, stood on her toes and kissed her lips. Fetnalla returned the kiss for just a moment before pulling away, her eyes scanning the corridor in both directions. The ghost of a smile touched her face and was gone. “We shouldn’t,” she whispered.

Evanthya smiled, kissing her again. “Perhaps not here. .” She raised an eyebrow, leaving the thought unfinished.

Fetnalla shook her head and began to walk again. “No. We can’t.”

“Why not?” Evanthya demanded, striding after the minister and pulling her to a halt again.

Fetnalla jerked her arm away. “We just can’t. Someone might find out.”

“That’s never stopped us before. What is this, Fetnalla? Why won’t you talk to me?”

Fetnalla stared at her until Evanthya thought the woman might cry. But for a long time, she said nothing.

“Walk with me,” she finally said.

Evanthya shook her head. “I won’t. Not until-”

“In the gardens.” She looked down the corridor again. It almost seemed to Evanthya that she expected to see soldiers coming for them at any moment. “We can talk in the gardens.”

Fetnalla started to walk again, leaving Evanthya little choice but to follow. Neither of them spoke while they were in the hallways and even when they stepped into the cold night air, Fetnalla said nothing. The skies had cleared and Panya shone upon the castle, silver-white and bright enough to cast dark shadows across the ward.

They made their way past grey hedgerows and the small, lifeless trees of the orchard. In another turn, all of them would be in bud, but for now it felt to Evanthya that they were walking among wraiths.

Still, Fetnalla did not speak. Evanthya stopped and waited for the other woman to face her. When she didn’t, Evanthya folded her arms over her aching chest and swallowed.

“Tell me what this is about,” she said. “Tell me now, or I’m going back to my chamber.”

Fetnalla turned at that, her lips pressed thin. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t want to.” Evanthya took a step toward her, taking hold of her slender hands. “But you have to talk to me.” She wanted to put her arms around her, but even here, alone in the night, Fetnalla seemed reluctant to have her come close.

“They’re watching me,” Fetnalla whispered, her eyes darting back toward the nearest of the towers.

Evanthya shivered as from an icy wind, though the air was still. “Who?”

“The duke, his men, maybe even some of the other ministers. I’m not certain.”

“Have you seen them?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard them outside my door at night. And I can. . I can feel them.”

Evanthya’s first thought was that her love had gone mad, that she was gripped by some senseless fear. She thrust the notion away almost as quickly as it came, forcing herself to believe that Brall’s men were indeed keeping watch on her, or at least to accept that Fetnalla believed it.

“Why would they be watching you?”

Fetnalla frowned. “You think I’m imagining it.”

“I only asked-”

“I know what you asked, and I heard the doubt in your voice. You don’t believe me.”

“I believe that you’re frightened and that-”

“Is it so hard to believe that Brall would want to have me watched? He’s been accusing me of every kind of treachery for several turns. My denials mean nothing to him. You know that. You saw how he was in Solkara.”

She had a point. The duke of Orvinti had been suspicious of Fetnalla since before Carden’s death, and subsequent events had served only to deepen his doubts. But for her own duke to spy on her. .

“Could it be someone else? The conspiracy perhaps. Maybe they hope to turn you, and so they’re watching for signs of a rift between you and Brall.”

Fetnalla shook her head. “Not unless their spies wear swords and soldiers’ boots.” She exhaled, closing her eyes briefly. “I know how this sounds. If you were telling all this to me, I’d probably think you were crazed. But I swear to you, he’s having me watched. Brall is so afraid of the conspiracy and so convinced that I’ve betrayed him that he’ll go to any length to protect himself, even though I pose no threat to him.”

Evanthya had no choice but to believe her. Hadn’t her own duke, a far more reasonable man than Lord Orvinti, expressed similar suspicions?

“So we can’t be together,” she said, her voice flat.

“I’m afraid we can’t, not until this passes, or my duke banishes me from the castle.”

“He’s a fool.” She sounded bitter and small, but she couldn’t help herself.

Fetnalla allowed herself a grim smile. “He’s merely the first of what will soon be a large group of Eandi nobles taking similar steps against their ministers. We have to do something, Evanthya.”

“I know. I’ve wanted to speak of it all night.” She glanced about the ward, abruptly feeling that she was being watched as well. She shivered again and pulled her robes tight around her shoulders. “You received my message.”

Fetnalla arched an eyebrow. “Yes,” she said drily. “You should have heard me trying to explain that to Brall.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d want to know.”

“It’s all right. I was. . relieved to learn that we’d succeeded.”

Evanthya glanced up at white Panya. “Only ‘relieved’? I was elated. I wanted nothing more than to find another assassin and start again.”

“And yet you cried for Shurik.”

She looked sharply at Fetnalla. “How did you know that?”

“I know you.”

“Yes,” she admitted. “I cried for him. I cried for what the Forelands have become and for what the conspiracy has done to us all, that it might drive me to such a killing. But that won’t stop me from striking at them again.”

“Of course it won’t.”

“The question is, what do we do next?”

“I don’t know.” Fetnalla glanced back toward the castle. “I don’t have enough gold to hire another assassin, and I can’t imagine that either of us is willing to wield a blade ourselves.”

“So what are you saying? That we can’t do any more?”

“I’m merely pointing out that we may have done all that we can, at least for now.”

“No, we can’t stop now. We can at least try to upset their plans.”

Fetnalla shrugged. “We’d need to know their plans first.”

Evanthya nodded, considering this briefly. “Tell me about Numar’s visit.”

“There’s really not much to tell. He spoke with my duke in only the vaguest terms about a possible alliance with Braedon.” Her mouth twitched. “At least that’s all they said in front of me. They spoke for some time in private, and Brall’s told me nothing of what they discussed.”

“What about Pronjed?”

“He and I spoke briefly.” Her brow furrowed. “Actually, now that you ask, we spoke about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes. He wanted to know if you were likely to counsel Tebeo to support a war with Eibithar, should it come to that.”

All the rage Evanthya felt during her own conversation with the archminister returned in a rush, until her hands began to tremble. “What did you tell him?”