Page 21 of The Unbroken Queen (The Bone Throne #1)

Chapter

Twenty-One

TAMAS

“You’re either losing your touch, or you’ve grown weak-hearted these past few days,” the young nobleman said under his breath, nudging in close beside me.

I glanced over my shoulder briefly, then back to the procession moving inside the temple. “Who might you be?” What was Osmud doing here?

“I could ask the same. Your taste in fashion is terrible.”

“At least you chose someone far more good-looking than yourself. It’s a relief for all of us who have to look at you.”

Osmud snorted. “He’s lazy, lives on inherited privilege and spends like it too. I couldn’t even find a butter knife on hand when I left my accommodation this morning. So I remedied that.” Osmud opened his doublet to reveal a slew of small weapons tucked into various pockets. “He’s a few coins lighter, but he won’t mind.” He stuck out his hand. “Lord Angleton, at your service.”

“Lord Bloodwyn.”

Osmud took my hand in a firm grip and tugged me toward him. “We’ve made headway. Kaldor, Macrillion, and Giraldus have agreed to an alliance. Garrat is at this moment riding to meet with Thome. Once we have his allegiance, we’ve covered a half of the northeast.”

I nodded. “I never doubted you, brother.”

He quirked a brow at me, dropping my hand and focusing on the crowd. “The clans are questioning your ability to succeed.”

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to scold me?”

“I’m worried, Tamas. Many of us are. Garrat knows what you did.”

I turned away, folding my arms across my chest. “You needn’t be. One’s dead.”

“Not by your hand. Angleton filled me in on the rumors. Unless you’ve stooped to hiding in forests and jumping out to scare horses.”

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. One Tannard is dead.”

He gave a long look before saying, “And two are very much still alive.”

“The youngest Tannard prefers a man’s bed.” I knew the words didn’t mean much, but in the brief moments I’d spent in Andriet’s company, I’d grown to like the man. I hated the idea of ending the lives of good-hearted men; too few of those remained living long enough to have an impact on those around them. Unfortunately, his proclivity didn’t stop his father from securing a marriage alliance.

“It makes no difference. The lad still has seed and will be required to spread it.”

“The princess is very fond of him.” I grimaced at letting that slip.

“What princess? Oh, you mean the one that we rowed for days in shitty weather, chilling ourselves to the bone to kill? The one you bit!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice. We each glanced around, but the surrounding crowd was focused on the street. “Either tell me she pushed him onto his sword, or keep her out of this conversation.”

I side-eyed him. “You’re in a good mood.”

“The winds were unfavorable, so I developed wing strain on my way down. And I’ll remind you, I shouldn’t have to be here.”

“Why are you?”

“You told us of King Ricaud, what you felt, but you’re still not making headway. We fear you’re telling yourself lies again.”

I sighed, then dragged my hand down over my face. “You trust me, don’t you, Osmud?”

In his new skin, it was hard for me to understand the subtle nuances of his expression, never having known Lord Angleton when he was alive.

“Well?” I prodded after he’d been staring at me for some time.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I do.”

“I’ll do what needs doing. My way.”

“The Tamas who took his father’s throne balked at nothing to win.”

I grimaced, then half-turned to him. “That Tamas paid a bitter price.”

“A price that had to be paid. Tell me you have grand plans to end the young prince’s life during the trials. It’s the perfect opportunity to rid us of some of the nobility.”

This time, I turned my body to him. “I have my plans.”

“Here they are,” cried a woman from my right. The crowd surrounding us surged forward, pressing against one another, each hoping to glimpse the royal family as their enclosed carriage churned to a stop in front of the temple doors.

I, too, positioned myself so I could see better. The King and his ailing Queen exited first, followed by his youngest son, Tressya, on his arm. Even though pale and sickly, the queen, in her deep purple gown shimmering with jewels along the hem that caught the fragile sun, outshone Tressya, whose fashion was little better than the noble women of lower birth, those whose titles would not gain them a place at court.

My attention stayed on her as she and Andriet made their way inside behind the king and queen. The rest of the nobility followed. Suddenly, Andriet broke from the line, taking Tressya with him, where they huddled in the gloom of the spiked arch over the entrance into the temple. If I were a gambling man, which I was from time to time, I would bet the princess was begging Andriet not to force her inside.

I’d seen the farce of a display she’d made beside Juel’s body, and I knew she was relieved to be free from him. Even though she hadn’t killed him—a sword through that part of the thigh would kill anyone in minutes—it had likely crossed her mind.

“I trust you, brother. You know I do. But I fear your attention is distracted.”

“Never. My attention, as always, is on ending…”

Yes, it was as I thought; Tressya was bargaining with Andriet to aid her escape from the funeral. She stepped back, appearing as though she was on the verge of fleeing.

“Hey, Tamas.” Osmud clicked his fingers in front of my face.

“What?” Feeling a shot of annoyance for the distraction, I turned my head to Osmud, before snapping it back to Tressya. If she was hoping to disappear, I wasn’t about to miss it.

Osmud nudged me in the arm.

“What is it?” I snarled.

“It’s as I feared. Thank the stars I arrived.”

I kept my eyes on Tressya as I spoke. “She’s no longer a threat now Juel’s dead.”

“She’s a disciple. Any disciple’s a threat to peace.”

“Do you really believe that? I believe she’ll play a vital part.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tamas. Listen to yourself.” He glared ahead through the crowd at Tressya, stretching his neck around a very tall man to enable him a clear view. “What has that woman done to you? You’re the one who’s been adamant from the start. The disciples are never to be trusted.”

I had to speak carefully here, knowing anything I said Osmud would take as proof of my addled mind. But I longed to feel her sharp, slicing gaze on me again and subject myself once more to her astute mind, snappish tongue, and agile reflexes. Tressya was a far greater challenge than I thought I would encounter on my quest to end the House of Tannard.

“She’s also a woman and that’s your problem. I would say it’s your greatest problem. Women are always at the heart of any great problem.”

I glanced at him, knowing his meaning. I wasn’t totally lost. Neither was I thinking with my cock, as I was sure he would mention soon enough.

“The disciples are never just women. You know that. And since the moment she stepped foot outside that carriage, your eyes have marked her.”

“She’s cunning, intelligent, and courageous, with a considerable amount of talent. She would be an excellent fighter, a valuable advantage on our side.”

“You want to fuck her.”

I knew that was coming. “I only have eyes for my goal.”

“You have eyes for her tits and ass. What did she do to you down in that hold?”

I squeezed the bridge of my nose, tired of this conversation.

“The disciple is dangerous. Not to the Razohan, but there’s no telling whose head she’ll decide to twist. You’re allowing the wrong body part to guide your decisions.” He glanced down at my crotch. “Go find yourself a pretty little wench to shag. Thanks to your new skin, you’re now a good-looking fellow. You shouldn’t have any problems getting a lass to sit on your lap. A good fuck and you’ll finally see straight.”

“As usual, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Have I now? I’d say she’s already half twisted you in her spell. The disciples are our enemy. They’re everyone’s enemy. There’s no telling what their Mother Divine knows and what plans she’s made by hoping to place one of her own on the throne.”

He gripped my chin and wrenched my head to face him. “The disciple’s presence within Emberfell will be your end if you’re not careful.”

I shifted my chin out of his hold. “Brother, where’s your faith?”

He pulled a face, then folded his arms as he turned away, which was my cue to refocus my attention on the princess. The young prince had no choice but to desert her, leaving her outside the temple doors by herself. She looked anything but lost standing by herself, while the rest of the mourners—I would bet Ironhelm that not one of them will shed a tear—moved past her and inside. Instead, she looked purposeful, like she had a plan. When she moved away, I was ready, only for Osmud to grab my arm.

“Don’t do it.”

“You my guardian now?”

He ground out a frustrated breath. “I’m staying at Orbiteen House. I’m sure it won’t take you long to find the place. I’ll be expecting you.”

“Doesn’t Garrat need you in the north?”

“It was his idea I come keep an eye on you. You’ll have Bryra down here next if you’re not careful. She’s worried about you.”

“What? No. You didn’t tell her, did you?” I drove my hands through my hair. “She deserves to hear it from me. And she has no hope of crossing the Ashenlands by herself.”

“If you care for her, you’ll do what you need to do fast. Finish it, Tamas, then come home. The clans are hungry for victory. They want to get this done before the deep chill sets in.”

I nodded. He was right. I patted him on the back, then pushed through the crowd, heading in the direction I’d watched Tressya disappear.

Yes, eliminating the House of Tannard was necessary, but it was equally crucial for me to seize every opportunity to sway Tressya to my side.

Now the royals had gone inside, the crowds lost interest and moved about with their day, and I seemed to head against the flow of people. I hurried to the temple entrance where the princess had stood moments before, then rounded the corner and skirted along the side wall of the massive building.

A stone wall, waist height, segregated the burial grounds from the rest of the city. Though a place for the wealthy, the graveyard was ill-kept. The white tombstones lost their luster now the sun had disappeared behind a gloomy cloud. Moss and age discolored many, but an array of purple and yellow-headed flowers, growing as weeds around the base of the gravesites, offered some color. Columns of giant mausoleums, the last resting place for generations of illustrious families, formed narrow walking trails around which one could stroll for hours.

I wasn’t sure what led me to believe Tressya would be here. I doubted she would disappear into the city proper and risk being left behind when the royal party departed, so I buried myself further along the maze of tombstones, some standing taller than my head, expecting to stumble across Tressya ambling through the grassed walkways.

Hearing a noise to my left, like the scuff of shoes on stone, I smiled and diverted through the narrow gap between two mausoleums. I exited at the backend of the stone monoliths to the sudden scuffle of feet and found a blade at my throat.

“Is this your usual habit of greeting?” I looked over my shoulder, catching the princess in my periphery as she moved to stand behind me.

“For the untrustworthy. And those who weren’t welcomed into my solitude.”

“If you wanted me in a vulnerable position, you only had to ask. I know many more pleasant ways to?—”

She pressed the blade against my throat. “I’m not interested in flirting with you, Razohan. I thought I made that clear on the hunt?”

“Before or after the death of your betrothed?”

She leaned in, so I felt the warmth of her breath under my ear and smelled the soft waft of lilac tickle my nose.

“Tell me what you’re interested in. Name it, and we shall see if we have a deal,” I said.

To my surprise, she lowered her dagger and stepped away, walking around to stand in front of me. She tapped the blade of her dagger on her palm as her gaze challenged me. The iron glare of her deep blue eyes tickled a thrum in my body, sending a thrill through my stomach. I felt the first stirrings of a fire burning through my veins. Too long it had been since I felt the exhilarating pulse of a challenge between worthy opponents.

It was damn well impossible not to slip within her again and soak in the exquisite wild flush of hunger I knew pulsed beneath her skin.

“I doubt you would disappear.”

“You don’t want that, Tressya. You know you don’t. There’s too much heat within you to be solely happy with the company you’re currently forced to keep.”

She snorted a laugh. “That’s one weakness.”

I dipped my head to her. “Please enlighten me. What weakness is that?”

“The Razohan are prideful and arrogant. Prideful and arrogant men are easy to topple and make the most noise when they fall.”

“Spoken like a true disciple.”

Her smug smile faltered. She paced around me, and I followed, turning my body in time with her steps, wishing she wore pants that outlined her figure rather than plumes of skirt. There would be no ballads about her beauty, but she beguiled me with her quick wit, sharp mind and the boldness lurking behind her eyes.

“Why didn’t you kill me on the ship?”

“Perhaps I had more to gain by following and studying my enemy.”

“At least you finally admit one truth.”

“Which is?”

“We’re enemies.”

Damn . I shouldn’t have said that. The worst she could be was my rival, but I thought of her more as my equal. Tressya was a woman worthy of gracing the halls of Ironhelm. The northern clan leaders were a tough breed, but she was a woman to gain their respect.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a question. Why haven’t you revealed me to the king? I don’t believe your excuse.”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue whenever I’m in his presence. Besides, I need amusement to whittle the hours away, and you’ve proved quite the joke.”

“With Juel dead, the hours must stretch before you.”

She stopped pacing, no longer looking so assured of herself.

“What’s your plan now, little princess? The king’s running out of sons.”

I regretted saying that as her sharp eyes lanced into me.

“What were you chasing in Emberforge?”

“The princess will have to give me something in return for such a vital piece of information.”

“Okay, man of the north, tell me about the Razohan.” She turned and walked away, expecting me to follow. I would, of course, and that probably revealed another weakness, hence the reason she decided to walk.

“Is this through genuine interest, or are you hoping to find another weakness?” I took larger steps to catch up with her.

“Knowledge is vital.”

“You’re right. It’s power.”

She quirked a brow. “Besides, I already know two of your weaknesses. And it’s been minutes. As yet, you don’t know the first thing about me beyond the fact I’m a disciple.” She wove around a low tombstone, peering down at the inscription as if it interested her.

“Two?”

She glanced up at me. “You’re male. That’s flaw enough.”

I had to stop and laugh. It came from deep in my heart and felt good. How long had it been since this feeling had swept through and washed the weight of the past and my impending destiny from my shoulders? Then when I glanced at her, the small spark of joy faded, and something else burned there instead. She looked confused, uncomfortable, and I wondered how many times she’d laughed since reaching Tarragona, since learning of her fate, since she became a disciple.

All that I knew of the Sistern came from the Nazeen: their rivals. The Mother Divine guided them, elected for her superior skill in soul voice. I knew they sought alliances through the realms, but their alliances were duplicitous, often birthed in secret to men of power. Because of the Nazeen’s presence, they kept out of the north, and the Creed of Salmun restricted their ventures into Tarragona. Sending a disciple to the bed of Tarragona’s crown prince was a bold move, perhaps a desperate one.

“Fine. Since we have formed our entire relationship around deals, let’s make one now. I’ll tell you one thing about the Razohan, then you share something about the Sistern.”

She tilted her head to the side, her stern gaze fixing me in place. “Fine. But this is not a relationship. It’s a test of endurance.” She smirked. “And cunning.”

“I like that.” And damn if my voice purred. Because, dammit, I liked it. A lot. I was up for the challenge.

Her smirk dropped, then she glanced at her feet, as if uncomfortable. Was she feeling awkward that I would find her alluring? If I was a man to keep tally, I would notch a small engraving under my name. It was hardly a win, but something told me I would need to grab any win I could against her, no matter how small.

Then she was off walking again, this time leading me down a gap between two mausoleums, both grayed with age. As we walked, she ran the tip of her dagger along the stone with a dull scraping sound. Once out onto another path, she half spun to me. “You may start.”

I splayed my arms, looking around where we stood. “Here? There are more comfortable?—”

“Speak.” And she turned and kept walking just to see how far I would follow her. Normally, I would refuse to allow anyone to drag me along by my shirt front. When she was the one doing the dragging, I found it... captivating.

I heaved a sigh as if she was being difficult because I couldn’t allow myself to look the pathetic fool trailing after the princess. “The Razohan favor bravery and loyalty over all else.”

She stopped, giving me a chance to catch up, then rolled her eyes and groaned. “I could mention a legion of men who claim the same. Give me something else. Something particular to the Razohan.”

“Certainly, once you’ve had your turn.”

She folded her arms, ran her tongue on the inside of her cheek, then unfolded her arms. “The Sistern focuses on the female line. They consider the males of no importance.” She continued walking.

I chuckled. “Touché.”

“That’s particular to the Sistern,” she said over her shoulder.

“And hardly a secret.”

“You never asked for secrets.”

She turned left at the next tombstone, a spike of a thing, with a wreath of multi-colored flowers growing around its base. Tressya bent to slash the stalks with her blade, then gathered the flowers and kept walking. I should’ve thought of that, but it never occurred to me the princess would like flowers.

“Okay. The Razohan can take the form of anything they choose, human or animal.”

With the flowers at her nose, she spun. “But the Huungardred can’t, or so I’ve been told. Why is it different for the Razohan? You’re descendants, after all.”

“It’s your turn.”

She huffed and buried her face in the flowers before rolling her eyes at my intense gaze. “Fine. Disciples are born into the Sistern.”

“So you had no choice?”

“Don’t make it sound like a prison, and I believe it’s your turn.”

My lips twitched, but I fought the urge to smile. “To become another, we must first take their soul.”

She gasped. “That explains it.”

“What?”

“What I felt when I entered you that night at—Well... Now I understand.” Her eyes glinted with intelligence and curiosity as her mind latched onto what I’d revealed and worked it over. “To take a soul means you would have to kill them.”

“True.” I looked for condemnation, hatred, disgust, but saw none of those, just her mind alive with ideas. “What happens to the souls when you take them?”

The flowers were forgotten, hanging limp by her side, while she gazed at me as if her eyes alone would discover all my secrets. It was her turn, but I liked having her full attention, so I answered. “They remain within us.” Osmud would knock me on the head if he were here.

“All the souls? Forever?”

“Yes.”

She licked her lips, appearing to search for her next question, and I should insist she give me something in return. Instead, I waited.

“That sounds like a burden.”

I quirked a half smile, then strolled up to the tombstone and bent to pick the only white flower amongst the colored array. I handed it to her. “It’s very handy. But, yes, it’s also a curse. It’s not something we enjoy, or do at all if we can help it. Bloodwyn’s is the first life I’ve assumed for a very long time. Then Petrulus; he was vital, but the wrong apostle. The new skin takes some getting used to. Most of the memories I can do without. Many do become a heavy cloak, but there is no way to shut them out. Bloodwyn here, thankfully, has spent his life in idle indulgence. Hasn’t lifted a sword his entire life beyond the sport of blade-dueling, and he wasn’t much good at that.” I arched my head back and scratched my neck while I wondered why in the seven realms I had said all of that.

“Petrulus was the wrong apostle because he didn’t give you what you wanted to know. But it explains how you knew so much about the goings on in Emberforge.”

“Not everything.”

“Would Selisimus have provided better information? You stole the key from him, didn’t you? Rewas couldn’t understand how you had it. Which has to mean only a certain few have access to the library, and Selisimus was one of them. He would’ve know more about the scrolls in the library than Petrulus.”

Her quick mind impressed me, yet one more thing about her that did. It was time I stopped finding her attributes so impressive.

“What happened to you on the Bone Throne?”

The sincerity in her tone tempted me to confide in her. It was surprising I resisted, given how deeply she had already influenced me. I clung to this one secret, in case all my plans for us proved false, and in the end, we were no longer allies in the battle against the tyrants vying for control of the Etherweave.

“I’m not sure.”

She hesitated a moment, as if trying to decide if that was the truth or a lie. Then finally she spoke. “Our soul word is our power.”

I believed soul voice to be their true power, but then again, what did I truly know about the inner workings of the Sistern?

“I only just discovered the truth.” She half laughed, sounding more awkward than amused.

By her tone and the way the words rushed out of her mouth like a sudden revelation meant this was important to her, so it was important to me.

“They didn’t teach you?”

“We’re supposed to learn that truth for ourselves. It’s taken me all this time. I’m so far from the Mother, she won’t know I’ve finally learned the greatest lesson. Something all the other disciples already knew.”

That one statement sounded filled with judgement and pain. I knew enough about those two afflictions to know their efficiency at eating away at your heart. Once again, I struggled with the urge to slip beneath the surface and seek what troubled emotions darkened her expression. The day I did such a thing was the day Tressya took my blood and formerly agreed to our union. Until then, that privilege would never be mine.

She blinked at me, opened her mouth as if to speak, then snapped it closed again before she said. “We’re even.”

“Not even half, princess.”

Now the barriers were down, I wanted to know so much more. I couldn’t give a damn about the Sistern, I just wanted to know about her. She wasn’t my enemy, she was not a Levenian, rather a woman drawn into this age old fight.

“You know more than you deserve to know.” She turned away from me.

I bent and picked a purple flower, this time stepping in close to slip it behind her ear. “Then tell me how I become deserving so I may learn more about you.”

Her eyes followed every movement I made. Disbelieving eyes, shocked eyes, and I understood why. Those living south of the Ashenlands favored beauty in a woman above all else.

“What else can I give you? I’m here to take back the throne for the Razohan. But you already know that.”

At first she touched the flower I’d placed in her hair, then, with an expression I couldn’t read, she turned and walked away.

“I was only a child when my mother died,” I yelled at her back. “It killed my father to lose her.”

She half turned, the blue of her eyes deeper than the warmest sky focused entirely on me, and my mouth was in freewill. “Then I…” I pressed my lips together clawing back the terrible truth. “Lost my father.”

“My mother died birthing me.” It was close to a whisper.

There was a quiet ache of loneliness in her voice. She looked confused, small and lonely, and I wanted to adorn her body with all the flowers in the graveyard just so she knew I’d heard her, beyond the words to the sentiment underneath. And when she turned once more to leave me, I felt an inexplicable desperation to make her stay. I couldn’t push her.

It was crucial I made no mistakes for the sake of my people, meaning I needed time to make my last decisive decision on my next move.

“You better go, princess. The funeral will be over soon, and the youngest Tannard may come searching for you. You don’t want him wandering through these mausoleums all by himself. Not when I’m lurking.”

I held up my hands in surrender when she glared at me. “Just jokes.” Then backed up before spinning on my heels and walking away.

I wanted her trust—I needed it as much as I needed air—but the Tannards had to die.

What a fucking mess.