David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“I think I always did. I just wanted to believe it so much that I accepted your word at the time. Only after the assassin’s message telling me of Shurik’s death did it occur to me that you had lied.” She gave a small smile, though it vanished as quickly as it had come. “In a way I’m glad you did. I never would have gone through with it otherwise.”

“That’s why I did it.”

“So then why are you lying to me now?”

She faltered, feeling trapped. “Habit, I suppose. I lie to Brall all the time now, because even the most innocent truth makes him suspicious I went to the city this morning.” She pulled from within her robe the necklace she had bought. It was a chain of finely worked silver with ar oval pendant bearing a brilliant sapphire.

Evanthya examined it briefly, though she never took it from Fetnalla’s hand. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s for you.”

The other woman’s face reddened, and she smiled, meeting Fetnalla’s gaze. “Thank you.”

Fetnalla stepped around her, putting the necklace around Evanthya’s neck and closing the clasp. Evanthya held the pendant before her so that the sun caught the facets, making it glitter like Lake Orvinti on a harvest morning.

“Put it down,” Fetnalla said, standing in front of her again. “Let me see it on you.”

Evanthya let the pendant drop again, her color deepening.

“It’s perfect.”

Evanthya’s smile lingered a moment longer, then gave way to a frown. “How could you afford it?” she asked. “You spent all your gold on. . on the man we hired.”

“Brall’s paid my wage since then.”

“But still, not enough for something like this.”

Fetnalla threw up her hands. “Now you sound like Brall. This is why I lied about going to the city in the first place. If he learned that I’d spent money on a necklace, he’d start wondering where I got the gold, and what I had to do to earn it.”

Evanthya started to say something, then faltered.

“I got it from a Caerissan merchant, Evanthya, and the price was quite good. It’s not Wethy silver. If you insist, I can tell you just what I paid for it, but I’d rather not.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” She smiled, falsely bright. “As I said, it’s beautiful. I love it.” She took Fetnalla’s hand and gave it a squeeze, glancing about for guards as she did. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Does that mean we can be together tonight?”

Fetnalla looked away. “You know we can’t.”

“Why not? Your duke knows about us now. Tebeo told me that he even accepts that it’s none of his concern.”

“It doesn’t matter what Tebeo says. We just can’t, not with Brall’s spies about.”

“But-”

Fetnalla started away. “I can’t talk about this now.” She took several steps before stopping and facing Evanthya again. Her love looked dazed, her color high, as if Fetnalla had slapped her cheeks. Fetnalla thought she might cry. Walking back to her, Fetnalla kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m sorry, but having him know is one thing. Having all the guards in Orvinti talking about it is quite another.”

Evanthya nodded, saying nothing.

“I’ll see you later.” She made herself smile, then walked away again forcing herself not to look back.

They saw each other again at the evening meal. Fetnalla had no doubt that Evanthya had looked for her throughout the day, but she kept herself hidden, first in her chamber, and then later in the smaller gardens of the lower ward. She wanted desperately to take comfort and shelter in the warmth of Evanthya’s bed. Though the nights were no longer theirs to share, they could easily have found a way to be together during the day. But Fetnalla couldn’t bring herself to accept even that solace.

They were seated together in the great hall-a small grace from her duke, no doubt. They said little, but Fetnalla did see that Evanthya was wearing her necklace. She wore it under her robe, so that no one would notice, but Fetnalla caught a glimpse of the silver chain along the side of her neck. In spite of everything, she was pleased.

When the meal ended, they bade each other a quiet good night. Fetnalla tried to smile, but there was a reproachful look in Evanthya’s golden eyes, as if she knew the real reason they couldn’t be together.

Fetnalla had done little all day, yet she returned to her chamber weary and eager for sleep. Climbing into bed, she fell asleep almost immediately, and began to dream just as quickly.

She recognized the plain at once, the black sky, the grasses swaying in a cool breeze, and she began to walk. Soon she reached the incline and without hesitating, started to climb. It was the dream she had been expecting, and even as she felt her heart pounding in her chest and fear settling like a stone in her stomach, she managed a single thought that brought a smile to her lips. At least tomorrow we can share her bed .

The light appeared as she crested the hill. It was even more brilliant than she had remembered from the first time and she had to shield her eyes. When she looked again, the Weaver was there.

“You received the gold?” His voice was like a smith’s hammer on glowing steel, clear and powerful.

“Yes, Weaver.”

“Good. Has Dantrielle arrived yet?”

“Yesterday.”

“And what have he and your duke decided to do?”

“They will oppose the war, Weaver. They intend to speak with several of the other dukes-Tounstrel, Noltierre, Bistari, Kett. If they can convince them to defy the regent as well, they believe they can keep Aneira from the alliance and still avoid a civil war.”

“We shall see about that.”

She sensed that he was smiling, and she knew that the dukes’ plan would fail. It occurred to her that her duke might be killed in the coming conflict. She couldn’t say for certain if the thought frightened her or pleased her.

“You’ve done well,” he said.

“Thank you, Weaver. Actually, it was Dantrielle’s first minister who convinced them. I did little more than agree with her.”

“I see. Do you think she can be turned as well?”

Fear gripped her heart. Evanthya would die before she betrayed the land. “No, Weaver. I don’t.”

“You care for her.” A pause, and then, “You’re lovers.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her. He had entered her mind, he was walking in her dreams. Still, she was disturbed by the ease with which he had divined her thoughts. It suddenly seemed that all of her secrets had been laid bare for the world to see. Now, when she could least afford this to be so.

“Yes, Weav-”

Suddenly there was a hand at her throat, unseen but with a grip like steel, as if some black demon from the Underrealm had taken hold of her.

“You continue to close your mind to me,” the Weaver said, his voice even. “You shouldn’t. I’ve paid you well, and I’ve promised you freedom from your duke.” He paused, though only briefly. “You fear for this other minister. You think I’ll hurt her.”

She nodded, clawing uselessly at the skin of her neck.

“Why would I?”

Still he held her, so that she couldn’t answer, and she realized that he was still probing her mind.

Finally the hand released her and she fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

“Why would I?” he demanded again.

“Because she’ll refuse you if you go to her. She still serves her duke-she’d see any other choice as a betrayal. I fear that if you reveal yourself to her, you’ll have to kill her.” And because of what we did to Shurik .

“I see. You understand that if she remains so until the end, I’ll put her to death anyway.”

“Yes, Weaver. In time, I may convince her to join us. But she’s not ready yet.”