Take the offer and run away. Leave this place; run as far as you can.
And yet he couldn’t. The only thing keeping him alive was the Skyhelm Sentinels. There was no way he was about to throw that away.
Was this his one last chance to redeem himself … again? To get it right?
‘All right, you win,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
He turned to the barman, who was standing as far back in the corner as he could conceal himself. With an apologetic look Merrick fished in his coinpurse for a gold crown. He put it on the bar, hoping it would be enough to cover the damage he and Kaira had caused, then he quickly left the tavern without a word.
The street air made his head spin, but Merrick did his best to keep control of his faculties. As they made their way back to the palace he began to feel a strange sense of guilt and … was it shame? Maybe he was learning after all. He could only hope he’d have a chance to make amends, and in the meantime nothing would go wrong.
TWENTY-FOUR
The mural was hardly ancient, yet the paint was already crumbling and its image had faded in places. It had been rendered hastily over a decade earlier, and not by the most gifted of painters, but Janessa took solace in it, nonetheless.
The depiction of Bakhaus Gate took up an entire wall in one of Skyhelm’s many feasting rooms. To the left side of it the Aeslanti were depicted in all their ferocious glory, bedecked in slate grey armour, serrated weapons gleaming, teeth and fangs bared at the enemy. Janessa had to trust the artist’s impression that they were so frightening to behold. She had never seen one of the savage beast men of Equ’un and from their depiction on the wall she was sure she never wanted to.
On the right side was an image of her father leading the massed armies of the Free States. The nine flags flew high and proud, carried by heroic looking standard bearers. Beside the king’s destrier stood the noble form of the Black Helm, wielding his mighty hammer — the champion of Bakhaus Gate, warrior without peer, Arlor reborn.
If only he were here to aid her now.
Time would tell if Steelhaven was to have new heroes. Men and women of valour on whom she could rely to deliver the city from destruction. Should Arlor see her triumphant, Janessa would be sure to have a more robust depiction of that victory emblazoned on the wall.
‘We have one just like it at our keep in Touran.’
Janessa turned around at the voice. In the shadows of the room she could just make out a figure.
As he stepped into the light she let out a sigh of relief.
Leon Magrida smiled, then offered a sweeping bow.
Janessa had wanted to be alone for a while, wanted to take some solace in her father’s glorious victories of old, and had told her guard to wait outside. How Leon had slipped past them she had no idea.
Despite his presence being a gross infringement on her security, she returned his bow.
‘My lord, you startled me.’
‘Apologies, Majesty. I was already in the room when you arrived. I too like to gaze upon our nation’s history. It stirs the heart, does it not?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘It certainly does that.’
‘Your father was truly an inspiration. As I am sure you will be in the coming days of battle.’
‘Your words are kind, Lord Magrida. I can only hope to muster a scrap of my father’s strength and loyalty he commanded in the hard times ahead.’
Leon took a step forwards, looking closer at the mural as though examining it for imperfections, of which there were clearly many.
‘He had the foresight to gather about him men of power and wisdom. I imagine you will do the same.’ He turned to her and smiled.
Janessa smiled back. Surely he couldn’t be suggesting that she choose …
‘Fear not, Lord Magrida. I already have wise counsel at my disposal. Loyal men who have the city’s best interests at heart.’
‘Of that I am sure. But you can never have too many loyal servants at your side.’
Or, apparently, too many preening fops.
‘Indeed,’ she replied, and took a step away from him before she had realised what she was doing.
‘I would be only too happy to put my experience at your disposal,’ he said, taking a step towards her and closing the gap she had placed between them.
‘Your experience?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Majesty. I have been trained in lordly manners and the arts of war and culture from an early age.’
Not if your mother’s to be believed. She thinks you’re a dullard.
‘I am sure, Lord Magrida. And should I require your … expertise, I’ll be sure to call upon it.’ She took another step back.
‘Please do.’ He smiled, moving forward once more.
She considered him then, standing before her, offering himself in so gracious a manner. He looked almost presentable, his black doublet fastened tight to the throat, his trews tucked into a pair of shiny boots.
Had she somehow underestimated him? Had she judged the man from his poor reputation without giving him the chance to show his true self?
If his mother was to be believed Leon Magrida was a pup not yet fully trained. ‘Not a perfect choice,’ she had said. But it had turned out that no one was. Not Raelan. Not even River.
Leon would one day be a powerful man, Baron of all Dreldun and Steward of the High Forest. She couldn’t go on simply ignoring him. One day, when all this was over, she would have to govern the Free States and repair the damage done by the Khurtas, and she would need every ally she could get. She might not be prepared to marry him, but there was no point in rebuffing the man simply for the sake of it.
‘Lord Magrida,’ she bowed. ‘I thank you for your pledge. I’ll be sure to call upon you in the future. Perhaps sooner than you think.’
He smiled his thanks. She had expected a final bow, but instead he took yet another step towards her.
Was he about to try to kiss her? Had she given him the wrong impression?
The door to the feast hall opened, and framed in the light from the room beyond, Janessa could see one of her Sentinels.
‘Majesty, your presence is required,’ Waldin announced.
Janessa turned to Leon, who, she was relieved to see, had now decided to keep his hands to himself. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Lord Magrida.’
‘Of course, Majesty,’ he replied with a bow.
As Janessa left the room she thought she saw something in Leon’s eyes — was it disappointment? Regret at a missed opportunity? Did he really want to aid her? Or had he merely wanted to press for her hand in marriage?
Janessa dismissed the thought and followed her Sentinels. There was enough to burden her already without letting Leon Magrida add to those woes.
As they made their way through Skyhelm they were joined by Chancellor Durket, who had been lurking in the corridor like some worrisome troll.
‘He says he won’t wait any longer,’ said Durket, eyes wide with panic.
His distress did nothing to put Janessa at her ease but she hid her discomfort.
‘I assume, Chancellor, we’re talking about the representative from the Bankers League?’
‘Erm … yes, Majesty. Apologies, Majesty, but he is most insistent. Azai Dravos says he wants your answer today or he is leaving the city. I don’t even know what the question is, but he seems most keen to have it answered.’
‘Very good, Chancellor. Then an answer we will give him.’
But what could she possibly tell him? That yes, she would marry some merchant prince? Or no, she could never offer her hand to such a man? She needed Odaka by her side, now more than ever. Though had he not already told her this was a decision she alone could make?
From Durket’s discomfort she had expected Azai Dravos to be in a frothing fit of rage, but instead he stood in the hallway, calmly awaiting her arrival. He even managed a smile as he saw her.