Blood Song

Vaelin turned to see Lord Darnel, crouched on one knee before the royal pavilion. Beyond him the fallen knights of the melee were stumbling away or being carried from the field, Baron Banders in his rust stained armour among them. Despite the servility of his bow Lord Darnel’s head was not lowered and his helm was clasped at his side. His eyes were locked onto Vaelin’s, shining with an intense and disconcerting fury.

Lyrna quickly wiped the tears from her face and bowed again. “Forgive me father,” she said in a tone of forced frivolity. “I haven’t spoken with Lord Vaelin in such a long time…”

“Lord Vaelin does not command your attention here, my lady.”

A flash of anger flickered across her face but she mastered it quickly before forcing a smile. “Of course.” Turning, she held out the silk scarf, beckoning Lord Darnel forward. “Well fought, my lord.”

Lord Darnel gave a rigidly formal bow, reaching up to take the scarf in his gauntleted hand, flinching visibly as the princess withdrew her hand before he could kiss it. Stepping back he fixed his furious gaze on Vaelin once again. “I understand, Lord Vaelin,” he said, anger making his voice quiver, “that brothers of the Sixth Order are forbidden to accept challenges.”

“That is correct, my lord.”

“A great pity.” The knight bowed once again to Lyrna and the King and strode from the field without a backward glance.

“You seem to have aroused the shiny boy’s dislike,” the King observed.

Vaelin met the King’s gaze, seeing that same owlish calculation he remembered from their first hateful bargain. “I am used to being disliked, Highness.”

“Well we like you, don’t we daughter?” the King asked Lyrna.

Her face was expressionless as she nodded, saying nothing.

“Possibly too much, it seems. When she was little I worried that her heart would prove too icy to allow attachment to any man. Now, I find myself wishing it would freeze again.”

Vaelin was unused to embarrassment and found it hard to bear. “You sent for me, Highness.”

“Yes.” The King held Lyrna in his gaze for a second longer. “Yes I did.” He turned and gestured to the pavilion door. “There is someone I should like you to meet. Daughter, please stay and try to remind the assembled commons that, despite appearances, we are in fact their betters.”

The princess’s voice was devoid of emotion as she said, “Of course, father.”

Vaelin went to one knee, accepting her hand when she offered it, pressing another kiss to the warmth of her skin. Even the untrustworthy can be useful.

“Highness,” he addressed her rising, all too aware of the King’s presence, “I’m not sure you are correct.”

“Correct?”

It was wrong in many ways, an appalling breach of etiquette, but he stepped closer and planted a kiss on her cheek, whispering in her ear. “The Dark is not superstition. Look in the western quarter for the tale of the One Eyed Man.”

“Do you seek to test me, Young Hawk?”

They were walking from the rear of the pavilion, alone but for two guards. The king trudged through the mud, the hem of his ermine robes heavily stained. He seemed shorter somehow, stunted by age, his head barely reaching Vaelin’s shoulder.

“Test you, Highness?” Vaelin asked.

The King rounded on him. “Do not play with me, boy!” His eyes bore into him. “Do not!”

Vaelin met his gaze squarely. The King may still be an owl but he was no longer a mouse. “My friendship with Princess Lyrna offends you, Highness?”

“You have no friendship with her. You cannot stand the sight of her, with good reason.” The King angled his head, eyes narrowed in contemplation. “She wanted to show you the shiny boy, arouse your jealousy. Yes?”

Keschet, Vaelin recalled her words in Al Hestian’s garden. The Liar’s Attack. Hide one stratagem within another. Lord Darnel was a distraction, something her father expected. You must refuse to do what my father asks of you this day.

He shrugged. “I expect so.”

“What did you say to her? I know you weren’t stealing a kiss.”

He gave a tight, sheepish smile. “I told her that beauty fades, along with opportunity.”

The king grunted, resuming his stooped trudge through the mud. “You shouldn’t bait her so. It’s necessary that you don’t become enemies. For the Realm, you understand?”

“I understand, Highness.”

“She’s not going to marry him, is she?”

“I very much doubt it.”

“Knew she wouldn’t.” The king sighed in weary frustration. “If only the fellow wasn’t such a dolt. What a burden it is to have an intelligent daughter. It goes against nature for wit to be bound up in so much beauty. It’s my experience that truly beautiful women are either bestowed with great charm or mountainous spite. Her mother, my dear departed queen, was a renowned beauty and had all the spite you could ever need, but mercifully little brain.”