With a shaking hand, she pushed him back, and he allowed her to do so. Her chest felt hollow. He wanted to ignite hope in her, she knew, and the pleading honesty in his voice tore at her worse than anything he’d said before. What he asked of her … five years ago she might have leaped at the chance. But now … now she couldn’t. She didn’t feel the strength left in her to challenge the might of the city. Every time she dared hope, every time she tried for happiness, there was always a man or woman waiting with a dagger. Sometimes, it was her enemies. More often, it seemed it was those she should have been able to trust most. Why couldn’t they let her raise her son in peace? Why couldn’t Nathaniel grow up happy and beautiful and loved, instead of with vultures circling above their household and hungry eyes staring from all sides?
“Leave,” she said. “Please, just leave.”
Victor stood and stepped away, footsteps leading toward the room’s exit.
“You’re afraid,” he said. “And you have every right to be. The pointed star marks over half the streets of Veldaren, and soon Muzien will seek to paint it across your doorstep. But don’t let that fear deny you hope. You are capable of great things, Alyssa, both you and your son. And at my side, we can reach them still, reach higher than you have ever dreamed. These setbacks have not shaken my confidence, nor my desires. They have only forced me to raise my ambition even higher.”
“I could never trust you,” Alyssa said. “Too many have betrayed me already, and you would only be the next.”
He laughed from the other side of the room, the sound both amused and terribly sad.
“My dear Alyssa,” he said. “Of all the men in Veldaren, I am the last who would ever betray you. For good or ill, I am a man of my word, and if I say I would die for you, I mean it. If you wish to seek out those who would turn against you, begin looking closer to home.”
With that, the door opened and shut, and with him gone, she turned and swung her fist toward the glass of her window. It struck, she heard a crack, and letting out a gasp of frustration, she dropped down into the couch, holding her bruised hand to her chest. Tears began to grow along the edges of her glass eyes, and she hated herself for it.
“He should not speak to you in such a way,” said her closest friend. Strange as it might seem to someone else, it was no surprise to Alyssa that the voice came from the high corner of the room. No doubt Zusa had hidden there the entire encounter, daggers drawn and eager to carve an extra smile or two into Victor’s face.
“He was just being honest,” Alyssa said.
“Honest or not, he disrespected you. To do so in your house, no matter how highly born the bastard is, should never be allowed.”
Zusa was at her side now, and Alyssa shifted so the woman could join her on the couch. The woman did so, a wrapped hand sliding around her shoulders. Alyssa accepted the comfort, and she wiped away the few tears that had grown.
“Forget him,” she said. “What he said … what did he mean about the crests on the chests of my soldiers?”
Zusa hesitated the slightest moment, fingers on her shoulder clutching tighter.
“John Gandrem’s soldiers outnumber your house guards,” she said. “He seeks to fill you with doubt; that is all.”
Alyssa shook her head.
“Doubt that may be well-founded.”
“John would never turn on you and Nathaniel. He’s too honorable, too dedicated to tradition and law.”
“And what of Melody? How strong is his dedication to her?”
At that, Zusa gave no answer. Alyssa thought of the way John had spoken with her mother, Melody, of how close the two had grown ever since the loss of her eyes. John had assumed many responsibilities, particularly those he felt were too difficult or mature for Nathaniel to handle. But helping him at every turn was Melody Gemcroft, always eager, always offering advice.
Melody … the woman from the grave. The woman Stephen Connington had professed his love for, just before taking out Alyssa’s eyes.
“If my mother plans something…” Alyssa began.
“If she does, she plans only her suicide,” Zusa said, holding her tight. “I am here. I am with you. Trust me to keep you and your family safe, my love. I let myself be distracted, and I failed you, but never again.”
Alyssa put a hand atop Zusa’s. At least, she had someone she could trust to the very end. Someone who would never betray her. She wished she knew how to say it, but the words always seemed awkward when she tried.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting another embrace from Zusa. “I know you’ll always be there, no matter what happens. No matter who may turn on me. But I need you to keep your eyes open and watch where I cannot, and in the shadows listen for what I cannot hear. Someone will make a move against us, and if not from within, then without.”
“You mean Muzien,” Zusa said.
“I do,” Alyssa said.
“Do you fear him?”
“No,” she whispered. “There’s only one person I fear. Watch her closest, Zusa. If Melody turns on me, strike her dead. If she would come back from the grave to betray me, send her right back to the grave. Damn the courts. Damn the consequences.”
“Consider this my word,” Zusa said, rising from the couch. “If you fear Melody, then Melody should quake in fear of me. While I live, you live. While I live, your enemies will perish.”
Alyssa let herself smile, and she prayed it was far more authentic than the one she’d given Victor.
“You can’t save me from the whole world,” she said.
Zusa laughed.
“No,” she said. “But I can damn well try.”
CHAPTER 3
Are you sure you must do this yourself?” asked the withered old man escorting her down the dark stairs. The air was cold as it blew across her skin, but that was not why she shivered.
“I must,” said Melody Gemcroft, wishing she had her own torch, wanting its light to be under her control. With every step downward, she felt herself slipping back into a world where only her beloved Karak could save her … and even then, it had taken years.
“This particular prisoner has proven very stubborn,” the old man continued, slowly working his way down the steps without any sign of hurry. “I understand the use he might be to you, but I must confess I doubt he will listen to any request you have. He is too dangerous, too narrow-minded.”
“And that is why it must be me,” Melody said. She put a hand on the stone wall beside her, but the stones were clammy, and when she pulled back, dirty water was on her fingertips. The old man, Warsh, continued on as if not realizing she had paused.
“If you insist,” Warsh said. The hand not holding aloft the torch scratched at his balding pate. “I wonder at what magic you think you have to make him listen.”
“Not magic,” Melody said, continuing once more to follow. Her right hand clutched tighter at the jar wrapped in cloth she held. “Just a song and a gift.”
“I’d more suggest offering freedom, but I doubt he’d stay loyal to you the moment he stepped into the open air. Impressive, really. Usually, after a few years with the gentle touchers, a man would willingly obey.”
“I am well aware of the sick things the gentle touchers might do to a man,” Melody said. “Or a woman.”
The venom in her voice caused the old man to stop and turn.
“The gentle touchers have served the Conningtons since the earliest days of the Gods’ War,” Warsh said, staring at her with his red, weepy eyes. “Kings and thieves, peasants and princes, they’ve all had their time in these cells. There is an art to what we do, a gift that involves a lifetime of sacrifice and study. I understand your anger for what my fellows have done to you, but I assure you none of it was ever done with malice. You were like a painting, Melody, a beautiful painting, and you endured greater than most any I have seen descend these stairs. When Leon died, and Stephen granted you your freedom, I was so very happy for you. So, please, remember that you are a guest here now, not a prisoner, nor a queen, so treat us gentle touchers with the respect we deserve.”