S Farrell - A Magic of Nightfall

Kenne knew then what had managed to cause Sigourney to ignore her injuries and leave her sickbed.

It was obvious, looking around the chamber at the other members of the Council, that the same thought had occurred to them. It was also obvious to Kenne who they would choose. Aleron was nodding, as was Odil ca’Mazzak; others were looking intently at the table, as if something had been scribbled there. It was Odil who finally spoke.

“You are Tete of the Council of Ca’, Councillor ca’Ludovici, and it was you who was closest in Kraljiki Audric’s confidence. I agree-a new Kralji must be named immediately… and I believe it should be a Kraljica.” He looked around the room. “I propose that Vajica Sigourney ca’Ludovici be named Kraljica Sigourney. She has the name, she is the closest relative here, and she has amply demonstrated that she possesses the qualities of leadership we need.”

“I agree,” Aleron said immediately, rising to his feet, and then they were all rising, and Sigourney was smiling through her pain and healing wounds and raising her hands to them in mock humility, and it was done-before Kenne could say anything. Not that they would have listened to him, he thought ruefully.

His voice was not one to which they paid attention.

Sigourney’s single-eyed gaze traveled the room and when it found Kenne, she frowned momentarily. He could see the accusation and the blame in her face, and he knew one thing more.

He would not be Archigos for long. The new Kraljica would find a way to bring him down.

Serafina smiled at them as they came into the kitchen of their small apartment, though Karl could see a sadness, almost an envy, melded with the lifting of lips. She brushed her hair back from her head with the back of her hand, still holding the knife with which she’d been chopping vegetables. Karl could smell the stew, bubbling in the black pot over the hearth fire. “Good morning,” she told them. “It’s good to see the two of you together.”

Varina laced her arm with Karl’s and pressed against him. “It is,” she told Serafina. “Even more than I’d hoped.”

Karl smiled also, and he wondered if either of the two women could see the emotions that mixed in with his own happiness: the tiny nagging sense that he was somehow betraying Ana, even though he and Ana had never shared physical intimacy. She would have smiled at you also. She would have told you to go ahead. She would have been happy for you. That’s what he told himself, but it didn’t ease the kernel of guilt.

“I’ve been betrayed too many times and hurt too many times,” Ana had told him once, not long after he’d returned from the Isle of Paeti, after he’d found that Kaitlin no longer loved him, no longer wanted him to be part of her and his sons’ lives. “I can’t give you that part of me, Karl. It’s just not there anymore: there are too many scars and too much pain. I can be your friend, if that’s enough for you. But not more. Not more.”

“You don’t love me…” he began to reply, and she shook her head.

“I do love you,” she said, “but not in that way. If you need that, then find someone else. I would understand, Karl. I truly would. I’m sorry…” And he had found release elsewhere, in the grande horizontales that Varina had seen. But he’d somehow missed the person in front of him who was interested in him as more than friend, and who he’d also liked…

Now, Varina hugged Karl again. He leaned down, her face turned toward him. The kiss was soft and sweet, and the guilt receded again, slightly. “If you need that, then find someone else…” Perhaps one day, soon, even that whisper would be gone.

He hadn’t known he’d needed this so much, and he wished he’d realized it much sooner.

“Let me help you, Sera,” Varina said to Serafina, and her warmth left his side. “Karl, why don’t you put a pot on for tea?” He watched the two women for a moment, then took the teakettle, poured water from the pitcher into it, and hung it on the crane over the fire next to the stew. He found the mint and herbs, placed it into a linen bag and tied it off.

“I’ll go to the market and get some honey, and perhaps croissants,” Karl told them. “With Audric’s funeral procession today, I’ll bet the markets-”

He stopped.

A shadow passed the shutters of the window. He heard footsteps outside the door. Someone knocked. “Serafina? Serafina, are you there?”

He knew the voice. He remembered it.

Serafina dropped the knife she was holding. It clattered from table to floor, but she didn’t notice. She was running to the door. “Talis!”

She flung the door open; Karl saw the man standing there over Serafina’s shoulder, but then she dropped to her knees with a cry-“Nico! Oh, Nico!”-and Nico was there also, his arms hugging his matarh fiercely. They were both crying.

“Matarh! I knew you’d come here looking for me. I knew…” Nico saw the two of them at the same time. “Varina,” he said. “Oh.” He suddenly let go of his matarh. “Talis…”

“I see them,” Talis said. He was staring at Karl. “Serafina, take Nico and leave. Now.”

Serafina was looking from Talis to Karl. Talis had lifted his walking stick-and Karl realized what that meant, realized it better than he ever had. His hand came up, readying to cast his own attack. “What-” Serafina was saying.

“Just go!” Talis said. “Now!”

“No,” Serafina said. She was holding onto Nico fiercely and though she looked as if she wanted to do nothing more than follow Talis’ advice, she remained between them. “I’m not leaving until I understand what’s going on.”

Talis gestured at Karl with his free hand. “That bastard’s the Numetodo Ambassador, Serafina,” he said. “That’s the man who tried to kill me and the reason you had to leave the city. He kidnapped Nico when he came back here, and used him for bait to catch me.”

Serafina was staring at Karl, her gaze stricken and betrayed.

“Is this true?” she asked. “Tell me.”

Karl glanced at Varina. She nodded. “It’s mostly true,” Karl told Serafina. “I’m Ambassador ca’Vliomani. I’m a Numetodo, as is Varina. We found Nico here when we were looking for Talis, and yes, we kept him-though I’d point out that he was alone in the streets when Varina found him and we kept him fed and warm and safe. We told people in the neighborhood that we’d found him… and yes, that was with the hope that Talis would come for him, but he never did. As for Talis-I believe he’s the man who killed Archigos Ana.” Serafina cradled Nico to herself. Confusion struggled with fear on her face as she listened to him, her gaze moving from one to the other of them. “Now ask him something for me,” Karl told her. “The truth. Ask him who killed the Archigos.”

Serafina looked at Talis, who was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t me,” but Serafina’s face had gone red.

“You knew where Nico was, and you didn’t go to him?” she half-shouted to Talis. “You didn’t try to help him? You didn’t send word back to me when I was worried sick about him?”

“They would have killed me if I had gone for him, Serafina. And maybe Nico too.”

“No.” Varina stepped closer to Karl. “You’re wrong, Talis. We only wanted to know the truth. The Numetodo were being blamed for Archigos Ana’s death; we were in danger ourselves. I-we-would never have done anything to harm Nico. Never. You know that, don’t you, Nico?”

Nico nodded earnestly on his matarh’s shoulder. “I know that,” he said. “Varina was good to me, Matarh. She said she would try to find you… and look, she did.”

“Talis is a Westlander spellcaster, Serafina,” Karl said. “The last Westlander I knew like him was Mad Mahri, and he tried to kill Ana, too.”