He had found inner peace and so he could find Selûne.
He couldn't even remember what his shivering vessel had looked like that night, nor did he care to try.
CHAPTER 19
A SCENE UNCOMFORTABLY FAMILIAR
Lady Christine, Queen of Damara, sat on the white, iron-backed stool before the grand, platinum-decorated mirror of her vanity. Before her rested an assortment of beauty treatments, jars, and perfumes she had been given as gifts from all over the kingdom, and from Impiltur as well. Her appearance was important, the ladies-in-waiting continually reminded her, for with her stature and with her magnificent husband, she held the hopes and dreams of women across the Bloodstone Lands.
She was an illusion, built to sustain the facade necessary for effective leadership.
Though she had been raised as a noblewoman, Christine was not comfortable with such things. In her heart she was an adventurer, a fighter, a determined voice.
How thin her voice had seemed that day, when Artemis Entreri had been let go. She heard Gareth moving around the bedroom behind her, and saw him flitter across the image at the corner of her mirror. He was on edge, she knew, for her lack of conversation after the release of the assassin had told him clearly that she did not approve.
It was such a coy little game, she thought, the relationship called marriage. They both knew the issue at hand, but they would dance around it for hours, even days, rather than face the volatility head on.
At least, that was the usual way for most couples, but never had demurring been a staple of Lady Christine's emotional repertoire.
"If you would prefer a less opinionated queen, I'm sure one can be easily found," she said. She regretted the sarcasm as soon as the words had left her mouth, but at least she had started the dialogue.
She saw the image of Gareth behind her, and felt his strong and comforting hands come to rest upon her shoulders. She liked the touch of his fingers against her bare flesh, interrupted only by the thin straps of her nightgown.
"What a fool I would be if I desired to be rid of the closest friend and advisor I have ever known," he said, and he bent and kissed her on top of her head.
"I didn't suggest that you be rid of Master Kane," she replied, and she let Gareth see her smile in the mirror.
He joined in her laugh and gently squeezed her shoulders.
Christine turned in her seat and looked at him. "Yet you were quick to dismiss my advice throughout this ordeal with Artemis Entreri and that devilish drow."
Gareth's nodding sigh was one of both agreement and resignation.
"Why?" Christine asked. "What is it you know of them that the rest of us—other than Kane, it seems—do not?"
"I know little of either of them," Gareth admitted. "And I suspect that the world would be a better place with both of them removed from it. Certainly I find few redeeming qualities in the likes of Artemis Entreri or that confounding drow. But neither have I the right to pass such judgment. By all accounts they are innocent of any heinous actions."
"They committed treason to the throne."
"By claiming a land over which no man has rightful dominion?" Gareth asked.
"Yet you went to dethrone them, posthaste."
Gareth nodded again. "I would not let it stand. Vaasa will become a barony of Damara. Of that I am determined. And I am certain it will be done with the blessing and support of every city within our northern neighbor. Surely Palishchuk desires such a union."
"Then which is it? Treason? Or are you a conqueror?"
"A little of both, I suspect."
"And you believe the drow and his wild tale that this was all prearranged?" Christine did not hide her skepticism in the least. "That he planned for you to come so that you could be seen as a hero yet again to the folk of Palishchuk? He is an opportunist in the extreme, and only your quick action prevented him from securing his kingdom!"
"I do not doubt that," said Gareth. "Nor do I underestimate the threat from that one. For him to successfully infiltrate the Citadel of Assassins is no small feat, nor is retrieving the head of Archmage Knellict an action of one who should be easily dismissed. Spysong is watching them, and carefully, I assure you. They will be gone from the land within the tenday, as demanded."
"Or they will be killed?"
"Efficiently," Gareth promised. "Indeed, the dragon sisters have agreed to fly them far from our borders."
"Where they may wreak havoc somewhere else."
"Perhaps."
"And in that admission, do you believe that you serve Ilmater?"
"I often do not know," the man said. He turned away and paced back to the side of the bed.
Christine shifted her chair so that she could face him directly, and earnestly asked, "What is it, my love? What hold has this man upon you?"
Gareth stared at her and let a long moment pass silently, then said, "The experience with Artemis Entreri will make me a better king."
That proclamation made Lady Christine raise her eyebrows. "In that you are determined that you will not become akin to him?" she asked, and her inflection revealed doubt and confusion with every word.
"No, that is not the point," Gareth replied. "But in my private conversation with Artemis Entreri, he was correct in that neither blood nor a disconnected deed is the true measure of leadership. My actions now, and now alone, can justify this title I hold dear… and it is an empty title unless it is one that truly represents the hopes, dreams, and betterment of the people of the kingdom—of all the people of the kingdom."
"Artemis Entreri told you that?" Christine asked, not attempting to mask the doubt in her voice.
"I'm uncertain that he understood what he was asking," said Gareth. "But in essence, yes, that is exactly what he told—what he taught—to me. I rule Damara, and wish to bring Vaasa under my fold in the single Kingdom of Bloodstone. But that decision must be one that serves the betterment of the folk of Vaasa, else I am no more worthy to claim this title than—"
"Than Entreri, Jarlaxle, or Zhengyi?"
"Yes," said Gareth, and he nodded as he looked at her, his eyes set with determination, his lips showing that optimistic and hopeful grin that so endeared him to almost everyone who had ever looked upon him. Against that sincere expression, Lady Christine could not maintain her resentment.
"Then let the image of Artemis Entreri linger in your thoughts, my love, for the good of Damara and Vaasa," she said. "And let the man be far gone from here, his dark elf friend beside him."
"For the good of Damara and Vaasa," said Gareth. Christine went to her husband, the man she loved.
She barely felt the dagger tip connect with his skin before she retracted her arm and stabbed him again, and again. In a wild, crying frenzy, Calihye struck at the helpless man. She felt the warmth of blood under her thigh and pumped her arm even more furiously, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks and crying for Parissus all the while.
Her anger, her frustration, her sadness, her remorse, her explosion of desperation all played out, leaving her in a great physical weariness, and she looked down at the man who had been her lover.
He lay on his back, arms out wide and making no move to defend against her. He stared at her, his jaw clenched, his expression a mask of disappointment.
He didn't have a scratch on him. The blood on her thigh was her own, caused by a cut she had inflicted on one retraction of the blade.