Gail Martin - The blood king

Soterius met Vahanian's eyes, and for the first time, Vahanian thought he saw true understanding in the soldier's gaze. "Yes, I believe so," Soterius said.

Sahila smiled wolfishly. "Good. Then bring me your maps."

LATE THAT EVENING, after the eleventh bell, Vahanian slipped out onto one of the small balconies that overlooked the courtyard. Even now the bakers and grooms bustled back and forth, their torches and lanterns bobbing in the darkness. For the season the night was mild, and although Vahanian was glad for his cloak, the brisk night air was refreshing. He brushed the snow from a stone bench and leaned back against the wall, drawing a wineskin from beneath his cloak. The wine warmed him but did little to relax his tired muscles or lift his mood.

Seeing Sahila again, hearing his recount of the rout at Chauvrenne, brought back old memories Vahanian preferred to avoid. While Sahila's story seemed to have further increased Staden's esteem, and possibly won him grudging regard from Soterius, Vahanian knew it was also likely to replay itself in his dreams for nights to come. Though eight years had passed, Vahanian doubted he would ever be free of those memories. The thud of a gallows trap door-common enough since hangings doubled as public entertainment-or the smell of burning hay could bring the memories back in full and twist his stomach into a knot. Memories, Vahanian knew, were just another type of scar.

The sound of footsteps made him reach for his sword. To his surprise, Kiara stepped out onto the balcony, raising her cowl around her head once he had a chance to recognize her. "Mind if I join you?"

Vahanian offered her his seat, and walked over to the railing to look out over the night fires of the city. "Be my guest. But if you want another go in the salle, you're out of luck. I've had it for tonight."

Kiara chuckled, but it sounded forced. "No thanks. I just came out to get a breath of fresh air and hoped it would clear my mind."

"Something bothering you?"

Kiara drew her knees up and wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself. "Homesick, mostly. I've never been away from home for Winterstide. I miss father."

Vahanian offered her his wineskin and she accepted, taking a draught of the warm wine and handing the container back to him. "I have to admit, before I met you and Tris and Berry, I never really thought about a king having a family. Kings were-well, kings. You served them and you paid taxes to them and you died for them, but I guess I never realized that anyone loved them. It hadn't crossed my mind they were someone's father." He lifted the wineskin to take another drink.

Kiara gave him a mischievous sideways glance. "Or father-in-law?" she asked. It was worth it, she thought, to see him choke on his wine.

"You know, since Cam and Carina came to Isencroft, father took them in like they were his own," Kiara went on. "Mother nearly died bearing me, so I don't have any brothers or sisters. Don't worry," she said with a wicked grin. "The last letter I got from Cam said he was putting in a good word for you with father." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I think he's afraid that Carina might make good on her threat to be the spinster sister who moves into his back room when he settles down. Even so, it must mean he likes you. He wouldn't try to marry her off to just anyone."

Vahanian cleared his throat. "Nice to know. Somehow, I can't imagine her taking it well to have Cam matchmaking for her."

Kiara chuckled. "Someone has to. You know, until this journey, Cam and Carina were never apart, except for the time she got sick. When Ric died. Cam always let her do the talking, and she always hid behind him."

"Hell, two or three people could hide behind Cam."

"You know what I mean. So in an odd way, maybe this journey has been good for both of them. Cam has to navigate on his own at court, and Carina is learning to stand on her own."

They were silent for a moment. Vahanian looked out over the courtyard. "Ric-was Gregor's brother?"

Kiara nodded. "I figured you picked up on that, when Gregor captured us." Vahanian listened in silence as Kiara told the story. When she finished, neither spoke for a few minutes.

"That explains a lot," Vahanian said finally, looking away. "But there's one other thing I wondered about-how come you aren't at the citadel training too? After all, you're a bit of a spook yourself- aren't you?"

"If you mean the scryings, like the one that went badly at Westmarch, it's not quite the same as the type of power Tris has. The kings of Isencroft have a regent magic that's inherited through the royal line. It's not sorcerer-caliber power-never has been. It's more for personal protection, and some handy skills to help protect the kingdom. Like the ability to do scryings."

"Pardon my saying so, but after what happened at Westmarch, I can't say that it works well on either count."

Kiara chuckled dryly. "I have to agree with you. And I've no desire to try another scrying, maybe not ever. It certainly didn't protect father from Arontala's wasting spell. Perhaps it wasn't meant to hold off a full mage. I can shield and scry, and sense the weather, which can be helpful in battle. Certainly not anything like Tris can do!"

She burrowed further into her cloak as the wind swirled the snow around them. "I'm worried about both Tris and Carina," Kiara confessed after a long silence. "About what kind of training the Sisters are going to put them through. Father never really trusted the Sisterhood. He said they were too m love with their grand theories of how the world should be, and didn't mind how many people died putting those theories into action."

"We've only got a few months left until the Hawthorn Moon," Vahanian said, looking out at

the clear night sky. "That's not a lot of time. Barely enough to hire troops and plan a campaign. Tris is going to need everything he's got to do that. We only get one shot."

"I know," Kiara replied. "It's just a feeling I've got, that something's wrong." She grew quiet again. "Last night, I had a dream." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Tris was fighting a mage in a red robe. And even though I couldn't see the red mage's face, I heard his voice. I knew that voice-it was the same voice from the scrying. It was Arontala." She looked up at Vahanian, and knew he could see worry in her eyes. "In my dream, Tris destroyed Arontala, but then I saw Tris fall-" She swallowed hard, trying not to cry.

Vahanian was completely at a loss for what to say. "Look, you said yourself, magic doesn't work for you. Maybe you just had a bad dream."

Kiara was unconvinced. "Maybe. I hope so." She stretched and stood. "It's almost twelfth bell. I guess I should at least get back to my room." She paused at the door. "I'm afraid to go to sleep. I'm afraid to dream."

"I know the feeling."

Kiara considered his comment, and nodded. "Any suggestions?"

"Well, you can try getting drunk or staying up all night, but it doesn't work for long. Everyone's got to sleep sooner or later. Time helps. But not as much as the healers tell you it does."

"Good night," she said, heading inside. "Thanks for the wine."

"Sleep well," Vahanian murmured. When she was gone, he opened the wineskin and took a long drink. Though the evening had grown colder, Vahanian did not go inside right away, waiting until he had finished the wine and was too exhausted to stay awake. Between the wine and the fatigue, he counted on being too tired to dream. The dreams still found him.

THE CONSTANT TRAINING and strategizing could not quell Vahanian's growing concern. Tris and Carina had been at the citadel of the Sisterhood for two full weeks. No one-not even Staden-had heard from them. As the days wore on, he could tell that Kiara was worried as well. Her training lost focus and she drew away from them, into her own thoughts.