David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

Somewhere in the time since, she had tried to convince herself that her father had been murdered, that he couldn’t have died by his own hand. She knew now that she was wrong.

But nothing else had changed. She was still intelligent enough to ask the right questions and to learn what she could from what her father had left behind. And that, she decided in the middle of her lessons, was what she would do.

It seemed only natural that she should speak first with her mother, and so when her last tutor of the day ended her lesson, asking her please to be more attentive tomorrow, she ran from the chamber to her mother’s sleeping quarters, which were just beside her own.

She found her mother sitting by the open window, staring out at a clear blue sky. Her mother rarely left her chambers anymore. She took most of her meals there, only venturing beyond her walls for formal meals in the great hall and occasional walks in the castle gardens. She was still beautiful-Kalyi thought her the most beautiful woman in the realm-but there were thin strands of silver appearing in the dark hair at her temples, and her face was paler than Kalyi remembered from before her father’s death.

“Good day, love,” her mother said from her chair, her face brightening as Kalyi let herself into the room.

“Hello, Mother.”

She crossed to where her mother sat and kissed her cheek.

“How were your studies today?”

Kalyi shrugged. “All right, I suppose.”

Her mother frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. I just was thinking about other things.”

Chofya regarded her solemnly. “A queen must learn to discipline her mind so that ‘other things’ won’t distract her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her mother smiled. “Good. Now, why don’t you tell me what you were thinking about when you should have been listening to your tutors.”

“I was thinking about Father.”

The smile fled her mother’s face, as it always seemed to when Kalyi mentioned her father.

“What about him?”

“About how he died.”

“Kalyi, you mustn’t-”

“You’re always telling me that I’m not a child anymore, that a queen has to be grown-up, even if other girls my age aren’t. Why should this be different? He was my father-someday I’m to sit on his throne. Shouldn’t I know how he died?”

Her mother looked toward the window again, taking a deep breath. “Why would you want to know such a thing?”

“Because I want to understand why he did it.”

“He was dying, Kalyi. That’s why he killed himself.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Her mother looked at her once more. “Whyever not?”

“Because Father wasn’t afraid of dying. He told me so. And only a man who was afraid of dying would take his own life upon learning that he was ill.”

Chofya gazed at her for a long time as if trying to decide something. At last she gave a small smile and pulled Kalyi close, in a long embrace.

“It’s good that you think so highly of him, that you remember him with so much love.”

It seemed a strange thing to say. Why shouldn’t she love her father?

“So will you tell me?”

Her mother released her, her eyes meeting Kalyi’s once more. The smile had gone away again. “What do you want to know?” she asked, sounding weary.

“Well,” she began slowly, abruptly questioning whether she really did want to know any more about the way he died, “everyone keeps telling me that there can be little doubt that he killed himself. How can they be so sure?”

Chofya frowned, and for a moment Kalyi thought she might refuse to answer. But her mother surprised her.

“He killed himself with a blade. He thrust it into his own chest. He was sitting at his table in the great hall at the time. There was a good deal of blood, but all of it remained right there, covering his hands and his place at the table. Had someone killed him. . well, it would have looked different.”

Kalyi swallowed. She should have been scared, she knew, and repulsed. And perhaps a small part of her was. But mostly she was so grateful for even this small bit of knowledge that she didn’t mind.

Her mother eyed her closely. “Are you sorry you asked?”

“No. Who found him?”

“What?”

“Who found him?”

“One of the servants, I believe.”

“When?”

“Kalyi-”

“When?”

“I don’t remember. The next morning I think.”

“Had he been alone all night?”

“Actually, no. The duke of Orvinti was here and the two of them spoke well into the evening. Your father killed himself sometime after the duke retired for the night.”

“You’re certain the duke had gone?”

“Yes, Kalyi. I’m certain. One of the servants brought wine to your father after the duke left him.”

“Do you know what Father and the duke talked about?”

“No, I don’t.” Her mother stood. “And I don’t see the point of all this. Your father died by his own hand. I’m sorry if that disturbs you, but it’s the truth. He learned from the surgeon that he was dying, and rather than face a long, slow death, he chose to end his life that night. Why is it so hard for you to accept that?”

“I told you. It means that he was afraid, and I know that Father wasn’t afraid of anything.”

“Each of us is afraid of something, Kalyi. Anyone who claims to have no fear is either a fool or a liar. You father was no different. He might not have been afraid of death, but he was afraid of appearing weak. And rather than spend his last days weakened by an illness the healers couldn’t cure, he chose to die while he was still strong and able to make such a choice. Is that so difficult to fathom?”

“Yes. All that you say may be true for other men, but not for Father. He was king, and he was brave.” Kalyi felt as though she might cry, which was the last thing she wanted to do. She was queen now, and she was trying to show her mother that she was mature enough to speak of such things. But her mother seemed not to care about any of this. She should have been as eager to know the truth as Kalyi was. Yet she seemed more than happy to just accept that he was gone, without asking any questions.

“Did you love Father?”

Her mother looked away, color draining from her face. “What kind of question is that? I was his queen.”

“Sometimes kings and queens don’t love each other.”

“Who told you that?”

“I’ve been learning history, Mother. I know that Aneira has seen more than its share of court bastards, and I know what that means.”

“I think we’ve spoken of this enough for one day,” her mother said.

“That’s why you don’t care about this. You didn’t love him.”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

But Kalyi could see her mother trembling.

“Well, you don’t have to talk about this with me if you don’t want to. I’m going to find out why he died, no matter how long it takes. I’ll even talk to the surgeon if I have to.” She started toward the door. Then stopped turning to face her mother again. “Father wasn’t a coward, and he wouldn’t have violated Ean’s doctrines without a good reason. That’s not the kind of man he was.”

She started to turn again.

“You want to know what kind of man he was?” her mother demanded. “You want to know why I’m so certain that he killed himself because he was dying?”

Kalyi didn’t answer. She was afraid to.

“You’re free to talk to the surgeon, child. But it won’t do you any good, because this isn’t the same surgeon who told your father that he was dying. That man is dead as well. Your father had him garroted before taking his own life. That’s the kind of man your father was. He was proud, and vengeful, and he cared little for Ean’s doctrines.”