Reign of the Eagle, page 89
Andras looked up and saw that the earl was glaring at him, eyebrow raised. Oh, Earstien. He knew. Somehow he knew about Donella. Andras had burned her letter, but one of the servants must have peeked in while they were together.
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Best to face up to it. “Sir, I regret to say that something unfortunate happened at the spring once your niece left.”
“Yes, I know,” said the earl. Then, to Andras’s shock, he smiled. “Not to worry, my dear boy. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Not my fault?” Andras shook his head. The earl wasn’t going to try to blame this on Elwyn or the wine, was he? Or on Donella and her masculine wiles?
“Of course it wasn’t your fault. You and...the other person involved were under the influence of a powerful magysk potion in your wine. It’s called, if I’m remembering this correctly, ‘Garm Kamar.’ That translates as ‘The heat of the loins,’ if you can believe it.”
“Some sort of love potion?”
“In layman’s terms, yes.”
Andras’s whole body seemed to go numb for a second. He thought of how he had felt the previous morning. He had literally been unable to stop himself from touching Donella, and she had clearly felt the same. He thought of what she had written in her note, how she had felt she was, “driven to this by some evil force,” and how she would “live for the rest of my life with the shame of having surrendered to this sudden and inexplicable feeling.”
“How on earth did it get in the wine?” Andras demanded.
His lordship gave a guilty little smile, like a schoolboy caught in a harmless prank. “I put it there.”
Andras nearly smacked the stupid man across the breakfast table. He jumped out of his chair, and his hand went to the gloves in his belt, ready to issue a challenge on the spot.
But the earl said, “Please don’t bother with the theatrics. I’m not going to fight you, no matter what you say. It’s in the past, and now we have to—”
“How could you?” cried Andras. “You can’t do that—using magy to force people to do things against their will.”
“Oh, stop being such a baby. I’m reliably informed that the potion can’t make you do something you didn’t already, secretly want to do. It wasn’t like this other person was being held down and forced to fuck you.” The earl took a deep breath, and some of the crimson faded from his fat cheeks. “Now, as I say, the important thing is to move on. We have to keep sight of our goal. You’re still here with the intention of marrying my niece, right?”
After a few wavering moments, debating whether he should go home, Andras settled back into his chair. “Right.”
“Right. To that end, we’re going to try this again. My niece has promised to be back at the Garam Hot Springs by 10:00, and if she tries to get out of it, her guards are going to pick her up and carry her there.”
Andras cringed. “Please don’t. If she doesn’t want to go, don’t....”
His voice trailed off as he remembered Elwyn at the spring the day before. She had been angry, which was hardly a surprise. But it had been more than her usual, surly resentment of the whole courtship. No, she had been specifically angry about the food and wine. “I bet you’d like me to eat that,” she had said. “I bet you’d like me to drink that.”
“Oh, holy fucking Finster,” thought Andras. “She knew! She knew and she didn’t tell me!”
He stood up from the table and bowed to the earl. “Pardon me, but I think I need to have a word with Elwyn.”
She wasn’t in her room, though, and the servants said she had gone into the old town to look at a new saddle, so it turned out he didn’t see her until 10:00, right back at the same hot spring where they had met before. The tent was still there, and the camp furniture, and the lute, and the writing desk where he’d found poor Donella’s letter.
Elwyn was there, too, arms crossed, scowling at him as he strode up the lawn. “People say persistence is a virtue,” she said, “but in your case, it’s becoming an illness. I really wish you’d take a hint.”
Pushing past her, he went to the sideboard, picked up the wine bottle, and held it out at her. “Did you know yesterday this shit had a love potion in it?”
The furrows in her brow deepened. “Of course I knew. But I only found out by accident. Are you going to pretend my uncle didn’t tell you?”
“No! Well, I mean, yes, he told me, but only this morning. I had no idea. But you...you knew! Why in the Void didn’t you say something?”
“Don’t make me laugh. You and my uncle planned this little rendezvous down to the last detail. How could he not have mentioned it? I bet the two of you had a real laugh over it, didn’t you? ‘Oh, won’t it be fun to have her be all docile and compliant for once’?”
“You should have told me,” he said, shaking the bottle at her. “I would have told you.”
She grabbed the bottle by the neck, turned, and hurled it with all her might. It hit a mossy little outcrop of rocks on the far side of the pool and shattered. “Don’t blame me for what you did,” she said.
“How is any of this my fault?” he snapped. “I came here in good faith, willing to make this work.”
“Did that include cooking up a rape potion with my uncle?”
“How do I know you weren’t the one who made it?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She stamped her foot. “Why would I? Do you think I’m so eager to hop in bed with you that I’d poison myself to do it?”
“And yet, I’m the one who ended up drinking it. Do you have any idea how that felt?”
She leaned against the central pole of the tent. “Did it get you all hot and bothered? Did you have to go jerk off a few times to clear your head?” She ran a hand up and down the pole, grinning.
“Someone else came by the spring after you left. She drank the wine, too. How do you think she feels now?”
“I wasn’t even here when it happened. How is this supposed to be my fault?”
She walked out of the tent, and he thought she was leaving for good, but a minute later, when he went to the flap and checked, she was standing at the edge of the water, frowning at the broken bottle on the other side of the pool.
“Fuck off,” she said.
That would probably have been a good idea, but there was something about how she was standing there, hip cocked, shoulders back, that made her seem so blasted self-righteous. Her eyebrows arched, her sharp jaw set. So perfectly cold and cruel. He couldn’t walk away and not let her know, once and for all, what he thought of her.
“You’re a terrible person,” he said. “I never wanted to be here. I came because your uncle and my mother thought it would help win the war. Now, I was willing to give it a shot. But not you. No one’s going to make you do one damned thing you don’t want to do. Because Earstien forbid you ever make the slightest sacrifice for anyone.”
She rushed at him, seizing him by the collar. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed. How dare you assume you know me!”
He grabbed her wrists. “Oh, I’m sorry. You have a room in a palace in Briddobad, instead of a room in a palace in Formacaster. You’ve lost so much.”
Her chest heaved. “Why are you such a prick?”
“Why are you so blasted angry all the time?” he said, shaking her by the arms.
“I’ve earned the right,” she said, pulling loose one hand and slapping him. Then she moved in again, lips quivering, eyes wide, skin glistening with the steam from the pool. Her hot breath in his mouth.
His heart was slamming in his chest, and she was right up against him. Right up against his body. He started to stiffen, entirely against his will. Oh Earstien. She kissed him so hard he thought his teeth would break, and then she pulled away, biting his lip until he cried out.
“Fuck, Andras,” she gasped. “I hate you so much, but take off your pants right now.”
And, oh holy Finster, he really wanted to. But at the same time, there was something oddly, dangerously familiar about this feeling. He wasn’t just aroused. He was almost bursting and aching with the need for...someone. It wasn’t even about Elwyn. He could see that now, because he’d felt the exact same thing the day before with Donella.
He broke Elwyn’s grip and staggered away, looking frantically around. They hadn’t drunk the wine. They hadn’t eaten anything here. Yes, he’d eaten with the earl, but that had been more than an hour ago. And Elwyn had been out of the compound even longer. What could have done this?
Then his eyes fell on the rocks at the far side of the pool, and the jagged shards of the bottle still sitting there. The bottle. And the wine that had run down the rocks and into the water. The hot, steaming water.
Elwyn had her arms around him now again, but he shook her off and cried, “Stop! Stop. Look, the bottle.” He pointed, and she turned to look at it, confused. “Elwyn, the wine had more of the potion in it. And now it’s in the steam of the pool. We’re breathing it in.”
She glared at him, panting, her chest straining the velvet of her bodice. Then she rubbed her eyes with her fists and gave out a long howl of frustration. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, blast it all, you’re right.” She paced around the green, shaking her head, periodically slapping herself in the face. “Oh, Earstien. I think one of us needs to leave. Right now. Before I do something really stupid.” She walked stiffly toward the trees.
“Do you want me to—?”
“No. You stay there,” she said, her voice high and strained. “And you can come along later. For now, pardon me, but...I need to be alone for a while!”
Chapter 25
It took Rada all night to free herself, and most of the morning, too. The railing behind the Niryana shrine had looked old and brittle, but breaking it proved far more difficult than she had expected. She couldn’t get any leverage with her legs, and the ropes cut into her so badly that several times she fainted. But finally, well after sunrise, she felt the rail start to give way. And then, after a long, shuddering groan, it snapped. Unfortunately, the two halves then plummeted ten feet straight into the river, taking Rada with them.
She fought and kicked for the surface, struggling to free herself of the rope as it unraveled around her. By the time she got clear, she was so exhausted that for a minute, all she could do was hang onto the floating rail and try to get her breath back. Then her feet dragged against the bottom, and she washed up at a little bend in the river.
She longed to lie there on the sand, but for all she knew, Vikker had heard her go over the side and was even now riding down the valley to recapture her. She forced herself to her knees, and then to her feet, and started toward Bakayn Hill and the Pradivani Palace. Vikker had proved himself far more dangerous than she had expected, and her friends at the Myrcian compound needed to know.
She had to stay off the road, since Vikker would be using it if he was chasing her. So, she cut through the woods, which would have taken forever even if she hadn’t already been exhausted. When she passed the Garam Hot Springs, she longed to soak in one of the pools for a while. But there was no time.
As the morning wore on, she felt a growing sense of unease and urgency. Who knew where Vikker was, and what he might be doing even at this moment? When she got to Girahai Road, which went up the hill to the palace, she took it, throwing caution to the wind. Pacing up the gentle switchbacks was certainly much easier than hiking straight up the side of the hill. Even so, she was gasping for breath and holding a stitch in her side by the time she got to the palace gate.
By extraordinary luck (whether good or bad, she couldn’t say), Sir Walter Davies was on duty when she stumbled up. “Oh, hello!” he called out happily. Then, as she drew nearer, his expression turned to one of concern. She must have looked like a drowned rat. “Rada, what happened?”
She opened her mouth to tell him, and no sound came out. Vikker’s spell still hadn’t worn off yet, blast it all. She tried mouthing the words to him: “I’ve been cursed. I can’t talk.” But he didn’t seem to be able to figure out what she meant.
At least he could understand what the problem was, though, even if he didn’t know the cause. “You’ve lost your voice?” he said, nodding. “Maybe you should go lie down, and I’ll have the cooks bring you some chicken soup later on.”
Shaking her head violently, she dragged him over to the little guard shack, where she found a quill, some ink, and a stack of scrap parchment. She dipped the quill in the ink, put it to the page, and started to write.
Except nothing came out. She picked up the quill and looked at the tip. Yes, there was ink. So she tried writing again, and nothing happened. She tried a different quill; she took out her knife and cut a new nib for it, but she still couldn’t write.
“Oh, Earstien,” she thought. “This is part of Vikker’s spell. It’s not only talking—I can’t communicate at all.”
Walter gently took the quill from her hand and tried writing with it himself. It worked for him. He gave her a look that went beyond mere concern and crossed the line into genuine alarm. “Rada, are you alright?”
She tried mouthing the words to him again, but it was no use. She banged her head with her fists out of sheer frustration.
“Rada, why don’t you stay here?” he said, in a slow, calming tone. “And I’ll go see if I can find someone to help.”
He thought she was insane, and frankly she couldn’t blame him. Then she realized she had to leave. If she stayed, he would fetch a physician, and they would make her go lie down. They might even drug her or restrain her. All the while, Vikker would be free to do whatever he wanted. And there was no way she could warn them.
All she could really do now was to find him again and try to stop him somehow. She knew she couldn’t—it was hopeless. He was a real hillichmagnar, and all she had were the few paltry spells in her little ring. He would overpower her as easily as he had yesterday. And this time, he probably wouldn’t feel generous enough to let her live. But she had to try, because she was the only one who knew what he was up to. At the very least, every minute he spent fighting her was a minute he couldn’t spend plotting against Elwyn and Andras.
Walter left the little guardhouse, asking her to “rest here a while.” But the moment he was gone, she went to the stable, got a horse, and rode out of the gate.
At least she still had her ring. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for Vikker to take it from her—maybe even destroy it. But she supposed he had been too arrogant to think he needed to do that. So she tried a little detection spell. It was a risk, because it was as good as putting up a giant sign telling him where to find her. But she had to face him, sooner or later. And it might as well be sooner.
Almost immediately, the opal on the ring lit up, but it wasn’t pointing due east, toward the Niryana Shrine. It was pointing north, across the gorge to the old town. “Oh, no. What’s he doing there?” she wondered. She urged her horse to a trot and headed north down Madyan Road. She tried the spell again at the bridge by the Jharanna Inn, just above the falls, and then at College Square, where some schoolboys in their long gray coats stopped to point and snicker at her disheveled appearance. And still the ring led her on. Clearly, Vikker was moving, heading east through the Kam Shar District. Was he meeting confederates there?
She paused among the little alleys of Kam Shar, where the brothels and wine shops stood crowded almost on top of each other, and the blue haze of opium smoke drifted out through beaded curtains. But the ring was still pointing her to the east.
Just as she crossed through the old Thrall Market, where Kam Shar ended and the Loshadri District began, she heard someone call out her name, and the stone of her ring lit up like a Solstice bonfire. She spun around in the saddle, expecting to see Vikker. But it wasn’t him. It was Pallavi.
“I’ve been feeling your spells all through town,” she said. “I thought I’d better see who was following me.” She smiled. “I’m glad it’s you.”
Rada could barely contain her relief. She could hardly stop herself from putting her arms around Pallavi and bursting into tears. A few quick gestures managed to convey the idea that she couldn’t speak, and Pallavi figured out what the problem was. Unlike Walter, she was used to being around magy, and she could easily recognize the signs of it.
With a snap of her fingers, she lifted the spell, and Rada gasped out her first words in a day: “Oh, thank Earstien. I’m glad that’s over!”
Pallavi offered to take her to a nearby tavern and get her some wine to calm her nerves, but Rada refused. All the words she had been trying to say all morning came bursting out of her at once, like the ice breaking on a Loshadnarodski river in springtime. She told Pallavi how Vikker had attacked her, and how he’d put the spell on her to keep her from telling anyone what he was doing. She explained how he’d used Princess Donella to try to keep Elwyn and Andras apart.
Pallavi nodded. “Yes, the moment I got back to the house in Lalakash and discovered he and Donella were gone, I had a bad feeling he would try something like that. I got here as soon as I could. I hope she’s alright.”
“Well, as far as that’s concerned,” said Rada, starting to blush. “I think I did something very stupid.” She told Pallavi how she had made the potion for the earl, and how it had ended up making Donella sleep with Andras. She told how she had captured Donella, and how the girl was in the cellars of the Pradivani Palace at that very moment. Pallavi looked aghast, and Rada began to wish she still had Vikker’s spell to keep her from talking.
“Why on earth did you give him a potion like that?” said Pallavi. “How could you not realize the earl would use it the first chance he got?”
“Yes, I can see that now,” said Rada. In a very small voice, she added, “But I didn’t realize how badly it would mess everything up.”
Pallavi sighed and patted her shoulder. “It’s rarely a good idea to mix love and magy, dear. Well, we’re going to have to fix this. You go see if you can undo some of the damage you’ve done with the Myrcians.”
