Chapter 9

Vereux

            Dareth's men had been deceivingly gentle in moving me from the throne room to my bed. I could not stand, no matter how hard I tried. My insides felt too queasy and burnt. My limbs too much like stone weights. Some unseen malicious little creature still seemed to be stabbing my skull repeatedly. My very skin felt too tight. Yet on the surface, I looked no worse than I had this morning. Such was the benefit of magic, the bastard had said as my pitiful self was carried away, smiling knowingly at my king.

            Had I not felt so much like throwing up I would have spit on him.

            He had dismissed all who were gathered, save for my top commanders and the king. Then he had made them watch as he tore me apart with his magic. One of his men had made sure Roland did not look away. I had scowled and grit my teeth, refusing to cry out, refusing to allow a tear to fall. The one time I had looked up at him, his face had been white as a sheet. The tears I hid welled up in his stubborn, pained eyes. His hands, the hands that had held and caressed my skin more times than I could count, clutched the arms of his throne, useless in their bonds. Every muscle strained and struggled. He would have raced over to me had he been able to.

            And in that moment, we knew what game our enemy was playing. He was using me to control Roland, and this was only the beginning. In a way, it was perfect. Dareth would get nowhere by torturing him. Roland was too selfless for that. He could have been beaten within an inch of his life and still remain defiant. But to harm his people or those he loved, he would crumble. Who better to use than his own lover? So close at hand and so valued for her indomitable strength. Roland would do whatever was asked of him, albeit reluctantly and foolishly.

            Now here I was in my bed, curled up into a painful ball. Beneath all my own shame and anger, I could sense Borealis's seething outrage. I could feel how the chains had scalded and stung her hide as she had fought against them. All in reaction to my suffering. I had tried to block her out, to save her from it, but I had failed at that too. She had attempted to spirit-shift, but I would not let her. I would never allow her to suffer in my place.

            Please, Fleurette, let me take over. At least for a little while, she sadly appealed to me.

            No, I told her.

            You're being stubborn.

            I think I'm too tired to be anything else.      

            My eyes closed as someone entered my room. Instantly they snapped open again. I rolled onto my back to see an older woman in the increasingly familiar gray uniform, a sweet smile on her face. A lie, of course. She did not wear gloves. I glared at her.

            She clucked her tongue and shook her head when she reached my bedside. Whatever effect her matronly appearance might have had was lost on me. The woman was as good as poison.

            "I told him to be merciful the first time," she said beneath her breath.

            My hand weakly clenched into a first. I pursed my lips. She removed my dirty clothes with deft, dry hands. Then she put one on my stomach, the other on my forehead. They were cold as ice. A few softly spoken words were uttered and her hands steadily started to glow a very faint blue. I'd seen that glow enough times to know it was healing magic. Anyone who had ever served was no stranger to it, be they human or dragon. It was supposed to be a cool, soothing sensation. From her, it was like bitter, prickly medicine. The pain was gone, but I could have done without her healing.

            "There now, isn't that better?" she crooned, already removing clothes from my closet. Her eyebrows lifted considerably when her eyes fell upon its oddly mixed contents of typical soldier's wear and relatively untouched fine gowns (courtesy of my mother's fondness for dressing me up like a doll). Once she got over her surprise, her thin, well-manicured hand reached out to a dress of crimson velvet and lace.

            "Trousers. Shirt. Jacket." I demanded shortly, glowering at the back of her head and hoping she could feel it. I might have been a prisoner in my own home, but I'd be damned if I was going to let them play dress-up with me.

            She glanced back at me reproachfully for only a moment, then pulled out some undergarments. I hastily began to put them on while she proceeded to withdraw a pair of tan-colored trousers, a cream shirt which had to have been sent by my mother what with the lace at the hem and collar, a mulberry silk vest, and a brown jacket of leather. She moved to dress me, but I grabbed the clothes from her, pointing to the door with my corset half-laced up the back.

            "Out." I told her imperiously. "I can dress myself."

            She frowned at me disapprovingly, as if about to lecture a misbehaving child. Then slowly her lips curled upward.

            "You are a rebellious one, aren't you?" the healer remarked softly. "Dareth will have to remedy you of that."

            I grinned defiantly at her. Hostage I might have been, but willing to submit I would never be.         

            "I'd like to see him try."

            She said nothing. Only regained her frown and left.          

            I kept grinning until she left.

            The day passed slowly as I waited for Dareth's minions to collect me to manipulate the king again. Several times I picked up and reread my last letter from my parents in Emerol Harbor. They wrote often, at least once a month for the past eleven years since I first joined the army.

            My dear daughter,

                        I'm half-convinced your kind has you running around for his amusement. When are you going to visit your mother and me again? It's been a year since we've seen your face. And Borealis's.

                        As you could expect, your mother is hoping you will marry soon. I think she's starting to chat up various young bachelors about seeing you. I keep joking that you are already married to the king, given how invaluable you seem to be to him. She isn't all that amused by it.

                        You mentioned that there was someone last time I was in the city. I know you don't like me prying. But meeting the fellow would certainly please your mother. I'll make sure she doesn't send him running. I am sure he is a fine man and I would love to make his acquaintance.

                        Things have been rather quiet here. Everyone's preparing for a long, cold winter. Melbreck's already counting himself lucky he works in the forge all day. Lucky chien. His son is now working with him. The boy shows great promise. Melbreck says he'll be just as good as him, if not better with time.

            Ally my love,

            Pere

            I had yet to start writing a reply. Every time I considered it, I was always perplexed as to how to address "the fellow". I had never meant to mention a relationship of any kind. But Father had been discussing my mother's efforts to set me up on an outing with some fine young man. Despite to avoid going through with it, I let slip that I was seeing someone. Now he wanted to meet the man.

            Ever since I had joined the military, it had been my mother's fear that I would not marry and have children. She needn't worry. I had always had every intention of serving and having a family. Contrary to popular belief, female soldiers were no more indifferent to romance than our male counterparts. Complications only rose up when I met Roland. Were he anyone else but royalty, the man I served, I would have married him in a heartbeat. As it was, however, it was not possible. It would ruin both our reputations, mine bearing the brunt of it. And yet Roland continuously proposed to me, assuring me that it didn't matter what anyone thought of our relationship, that in time it would all recover, that we would be great as king and queen. And every time he would stress how much he loved me and would have no other.

            Denying the fact that I wanted it was impossible. I would have loved nothing more than to say yes and stop feeling the wave of jealousy that washed over me every time another wealthy lord's daughter came to smile prettily or lean over suggestively for him. To make matters worse, he would need an heir, and soon. If there was to be no marriage between us, then my options were either to discontinue my herbs and bear him a royal bastard, or let him wed another. Neither was preferable, but the former, as much as I hated to admit it, was the less painful solution.

            All that seemed so small compared to our current problem. Right now, our affair was nothing more than a tool for Dareth to toy with.

            But why was he doing all this in the first place? If he wanted the throne, he could have simply taken it by now. Instead, he was playing with us, using us for some end. Perhaps, if I was clever, I could wheedle it out of one of his people. Were I a Memorium, I would only have to touch one of them to know everything. But I wasn't, so I would have to make do with what I had.

            I touched the glass of the window, snow falling outside and piling up around the obstacle course. The drop from my window to the ground was a steep one. To try it without a rope or something that I could use to climb down would practically be suicide. I hadn't any rope, but maybe something could be substituted. Perhaps those dresses could be good for something after all. It might give Mother a heart attack when she found out later, but she'd replace them easily enough, whether I wanted her to or not. But a broken window wasn't inconspicuous. If no one heard the crash of breaking glass, then the shattered remains would be enough of a giveaway. Besides, I didn't know what awaited me below. Who knew how many men were down there, watching for any signs of activity. Spirit-shifting wouldn't help me either. Borealis was stuck in the hatchery, in no position to give an accurate description of the situation. No, escape by window was not an option. Too much chance of being caught.

            I paced about my office like an anxious cat. There were secret passageways everywhere in the palace, many of which I had personally rediscovered in the first days following my promotion as general. So determined I'd been to find each and every one of King Lyall's tunnels in his vast network that I had spent most of my free time searching for them. They'd been a near obsession for a month and I doubted I had even found half of them. In my own quarters there were but three; one in the floor beneath my desk, one in the fireplace, and one behind my own bed. All led outside the palace. It would kill me to leave Roland and Borealis, but if there was even a chance...

            Provided they didn't already find them when they scoured the place for weapons, a cynical thought occurred to me.

            Yet there was a chance they had not. Lyall Kyrel had been careful with his tunnels. Once in, no one would be able to follow me unless they had the right spell. And who knew how long that could take. A mage would either have to stand in front of it, unweaving the spells cast on it through trial and error or they would have to waste time looking through the records in the library. If Lyall's records were even in the library. As brilliant as the man had been, he had also been terribly secretive, hiding most of his personal journals in his own passages. They couldn't just pluck it out of someone's memories either. No one knew the spells, not even me. By the time Dareth had figured it out, I would already have a head start. But still, to simply leave Borealis and Roland...

            Do what you must, Fleurette, said Borealis, sensing my thoughts. Without you, Dareth will have to find another way to control the king.

            I'm just worried as to what those other ways will be, I responded grimly. And what about you?

            Don't you fret about me. I can handle myself. If they try anything, I will char their skin black. They may have chained me, but they can't take away dragon fire, she assured me with confidence.

            The idea of separation still made me shudder. Bonding was powerful. It caused distance between Rider and dragon to hurt It was difficult to describe. It was like slowly ripping someone's mind away from their body. Once could still functions, but it would not be the same. The entire world would be strangely distorted. It would be hollow and muted, accompanied by a throbbing ache that spread from the heart outward. That was the price of bonding. Borealis and I had experienced the sensation once. We had no wish to go through it a second time. And yet it was necessary. The farther apart we grew, the worse it would get.

            Swallowing uneasily, I went over to the fireplace. I felt around for the switch near the bottom right corner, stained black with ash and soot. The panel turned, revealing a small but serviceable passage. A lantern hung on an iron rung to the side, its flame flickering expectantly. Already I could see the faint glowing runes and pictures in the distance. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the internal tug and pull that would turn into a wrench.

            It was a foolish thing to do, for in that moment footsteps approached my door. As silently as possible, I quickly pushed the panel back into its original position and seated myself behind my desk. There was enough time to idly cross my legs and lean back in my chair before they so casually opened the door as if my quarters were their own.

            It was practically a procession. Two of the gray-clad ones filed in, then stepped aside to allow full view of their illustrious Lord Dareth. He coolly strode in, his expression detached. Two more grey ones entered behind him, again stepping to the side. Another pair remained outside the door to stand guard. Dareth's mouth quirked just the slightest into a smile.

            "Fleurette Vereux, the Doll General," he said, looking at me intently. "Hardly a fitting name. A doll breaks and shatters. You, on the other hand, endure without a word. An admirable trait on your part."

            I sat there, my arms folded and my gaze unwavering. I knew a loaded compliment when I heard one. Years of rising through the ranks had taught me that well. Eventually the honey would drip away to reveal the blade.

            "I doubt you're here just to compliment me for being a good victim. Or maybe tool would be more appropriate." I answered bitingly.

            His smile seemed to widen a bit, but his green eyes, looking older than time itself, showed something like disappointment. He came over to my desk, then planted his velvet-gloved hands on it.

            "Sadly, you misunderstand me, as I have come to expect." He crooned almost soothingly. Were he not a manipulative bastard, I might have actually dared to believe him. "I use you because I must, not because I want to. But a man must put sentiment and preference aside should he wish to achieve his ultimate goal. It is a matter of necessity. You are the easiest way to persuade the king and therefore I must use you to my advantage."

            By the gods, he actually meant it. What goal was so immense that it required control over the king of Angletern? How could it all be necessity?

            "And this involved 'ultimate goal'?" I pressed calmly, hiding my unease.

            "Peace. A world without war," he answered with the deepest of conviction.

            Each word was laden with the greatest gravity. He said it as if it was a mantra he lived by. A noble ideal, a bizarre way to go about getting it. An insane way.

            "And with war you shall get it, is that it?" I ventured to guess.

            He gave me a wry, bitter smile and shook his head. The madman removed his hands from my desk to hold them behind his back. With a sigh, Dareth walked to the window and stared out into the darkening distance speckled with white.

            "You are a general. Are your soldiers more likely to cooperate when they are united or divided into sections?" he asked me cryptically.

            "United."

            "And would the world not work better if it were one nation? No separate countries. No conflicting governments. No petty squabbles between rivaling monarchs. Just one empire, one glorious united people living in peace."

            "You have a funny way of going about getting it," I sniffed disdainfully.

            The smile he gave me was pitying, as if he were speaking to a naïve child, just as his healer had done.

            "Ready any history book and you will see it is the only way. You of all people should know this. You have proven yourself more than capable for such an endeavor. It takes extraordinary resolve to utterly annihilate an entire upstart rebellion. Or do you not remember?" he said with a knowing gleam in those chilled green eyes.

            I froze and suddenly felt cold. I refused to look at him. Another memory he had taken from Roland. How dare he bring that up.

            "That was years ago. I-" I started to say in my defense.

            "Were young and desperate to prove yourself worthy of Lieutenant. Showing mercy would have made you appear a soft-hearted Lance girl and they were plotting to kill a promising king. Your choice was the right one. What I do is no different. The only way unity has ever been achieved is through conquest. Bloody and cruel, but necessary. Establish the fear and control, then temper with respect. Peace and order with come in time."

            My hands clenched the armrests so tightly they were white, my nails digging into the fabric. I felt sick, disgusted. I was not him. I never would be. Those "rebels" had been nothing but murderers. No one had missed them anyway. And yet you still wonder if your conscience is truly clean.

            "We do what we must for the good of the people, even when they do not know it," he went on in that strange aloof sincerity.

            Shut up. Just shut up.

            Dareth strode over to the fireplace. Bending down, he easily found the switch and the door shifted open. My heart sank as the runes came to life and their faint light spilled over into my office. He had known.

            "It is a good thing you told the king of all these tunnels. Otherwise I might never have known about them. He is quite diligent about listening to every word you say. There are, after all, so many ways by which to escape the castle to a secret rendezvous." the Memorium told me. "It is useful, isn't it, to have three of them at hand?"

            I sat motionless, glaring at him. For the first time, I was cornered. Cornered, but not helpless. Not yet. I reminded myself, though the words felt half-empty. My own knowledge was being used against me. Had my enemy been anything but a Memorium, I'd have had an advantage. Had I not told Roland of them, I might have had a chance. Unless he had gotten to my soldiers. What if he already had?

            "I assume you've already taken precautions in the off-chance someone would be optimistic enough to use them," I finally said, keeping my voice level.

            Dareth nodded.

            "There are men stationed at each exit. Nothing will get past them."

            "And how many men?"

            "You think me fool enough to tell you that?"

            "No, but even the most intelligent of people slip up."

            He looked at me for a moment, then shook his head, as if disappointed.

            "Deny and find every way you can if you must," he sighed almost tiredly. "But know that I will combat it and I will make an example of you and anyone you attempt to conspire with. I am a man of my word."

            "Really? Is that so?" I challenged him as his long fingers curled around the doorknob to leave.

            Dareth glanced at me over his shoulder.

            "Of that you can be certain. I never break my promises. Even those made to traitors."

            He left with his guards, leaving me to ponder his last words.