‘And yet you still think of returning to Cassandra.’
Lukien lowered the amulet. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Nor did you have to. Lukien, you wear your thoughts on your sleeve even when you’re naked! You mean to return to her when you are done with Baron Glass, is that so?’
‘Yes,’ said Lukien, unashamed. ‘Why shouldn’t I? I’m done being a pawn of demons and gods. After I’ve dealt with Thorin, I’m going to make my own choices.’
‘What will happen to the sword then? What will you do with it?’
Lukien looked away. ‘Does it matter?’
‘If you get rid of it, you will die.’
There was an ugly pause between them. Lukien held out the amulet again. Again, Minikin refused it.
‘I want you to keep it,’ she told him. ‘Take it with you to Liiria.’
‘Why? Malator will keep me alive.’
‘Keep it,’ Minikin advised. ‘There’s a battle brewing, Lukien. Even if you don’t need it, someone else might.’
Thinking of his friend Ghost, Lukien saw the mistress’ logic. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, and tossed the amulet unceremoniously onto his pile of clothes. ‘I’m going to do my best, Minikin. Malator thinks he can beat his brother. I promise you, we will try. And hopefully find Gilwyn there in one piece.’
‘I think,’ said Minikin, ‘that Baron Glass will not harm Gilwyn.’
‘He’s a madman now. There’s no telling what he’ll do.’ Lukien tried to curb his tongue, but couldn’t. He added, ‘You should have known better than to let him go, Minikin. And then you let that snake Lorn take over for him!’
‘Lukien-’
‘No,’ Lukien snapped, ‘let me have my say. Do you think you know Lorn? You don’t. I don’t care how many roofs he’s put up for the Seekers or what a good teacher he was to White-Eye. That all might be true. But if you knew his history, really knew it, you would never have taken the chance you did. You’re lucky to all still be alive.’ Lukien sank back broodingly into the pool. ‘A lot of Norvans weren’t so fortunate.’
He expected Minikin to argue with him. She did not. Instead she rose from the edge of the pool, took off the coat that always covered her, and dropped the fabulous garment next to his own clothes, exposing the Eye of God that she wore around her neck. Hers contained Lariniza, the sister of Amaraz, but looked identical to Lukien’s amulet in every way.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Lukien.
‘Making myself comfortable,’ said Minikin. She began rolling up her sleeves.
‘How long are you planning to stay?’ Lukien quipped.
‘That depends on you, Lukien. You see, I am not leaving until you change your mind about Lorn.’
‘No, Minikin!’
‘Oh, don’t misunderstand. You don’t have to like him. I’m not expecting that. But I want you to take him with you.’
‘Fate above, no!’
‘You’re being petulant,’ crooned Minikin. She sat down at the poolside again, returning her white feet to the water. ‘Lorn doesn’t belong here. He is restless. He needs to return north.’
‘What about his family?’
Minikin darkened a little. ‘They will remain here.’
‘Even his daughter?’ prodded Lukien. ‘I know about her, Minikin. White-Eye told me. Lorn wanted her to have a place in Grimhold.’
‘There is no place for her,’ said Minikin sadly. ‘But we can care for her here. Lorn cannot. He is a restless tiger, and Jador is a cage to him. He must return home to Norvor.’
‘And then what?’ raved Lukien. ‘Fight Jazana Carr for power?’
‘He must do what he must do, Lukien. That is not for us to decide.’
This time, Lukien pulled himself out of the pool nearly completely. ‘I won’t do it,’ he said. ‘I won’t help Lorn get his throne back.’
‘He is a fighter, Lukien. Let him help you.’
‘He’s a butcher, Minikin!’
‘What if he’s changed?’
‘Come on,’ scoffed Lukien. ‘Men like him don’t change.’
‘No?’ Minikin grinned as she kicked water at him. ‘Some people said the same about you once, Lukien.’
Her words cut him, making him drift back into the pool. ‘That’s different. I never did the things Lorn has done.’
‘I know,’ said Minikin softly. ‘But you were not here to see the way he helped us. When Aztar attacked, he was there to battle with us. And when White-Eye needed him, he taught her what it means to be a ruler. He stood up to Baralosus, right alongside the rest of the Jadori, ready to die for the city. I had the same doubts about him once, Lukien. That’s why I am asking you to trust me.’
‘Minikin, please. .’
‘Can you do that, Lukien? Can you trust me?’
‘I always trust you. You know I do. But this. .’ Lukien clamped his fists together. ‘It makes no sense to me. None of this does!’
‘Lorn will leave here, with or without you, Lukien. Even now he prepares to leave us. Better that it should be with you, don’t you think so? It will give you a chance to know him better.’
The last thing in the world Lukien wanted was to know King Lorn the Wicked. The prospect of riding north with him made Lukien’s teeth hurt. And yet, there was nothing he could do to change Minikin’s mind. Despite her stature, she was made of steel.
‘This is going to be a very long trip,’ he groaned. ‘Do me a favour, will you please?’
‘Anything, Shalafein.’
‘Will you let me have this bath in peace?’
‘Of course,’ said Minikin, then picked up her coat and left.
Lorn moved cat-like through the darkened chamber, past the form of the sleeping Eiriann toward the little chamber where his daughter slept. The hour ticked past midnight, and the halls of the palace groaned with hollowness. With the long day behind him, Lorn stifled a yawn, longing to lay himself down to bed. It had been an eventful day, full of planning, and his eyes watered with sleep. He paused, hoping his squeaking boots would not wake Eiriann, who slept soundly in the sheets, looking beautiful as a shaft of moonlight caressed her face. Eiriann, young and perfect, had taken to his bed without shame, leaving behind the mores of her past life and adopting both Lorn and Poppy into her world. She was a fine woman, so much like the wife Lorn had buried, and he wondered at the good fortune that had brought him such a lovely lady. Full of fire, Eiriann had refused to speak to him the last few days, angered by his decision to head north with Lukien and the others.
Why couldn’t she understand?
Lorn looked at her, admiring her. She was always such a vocal woman, it seemed strange to him to see her so silent. He noticed her more closely now, in ways he had never stopped to see before. Her neck pulsed with every breath. He eyes flittered, deep with sleep. She would be fine without him, even if he never returned. But what of Poppy?
Lorn turned back to the nursery, tip-toeing toward his daughter’s alcove. The nursery sat just across from their main chamber, a comfortable little nook perfect for the baby girl. There was no door to the chamber, just a curtain that separated the two rooms. Lorn pushed the curtain aside, closing it behind him as he entered. Poppy slept inside her wooden crib, a crib he had made for her himself not long after arriving in Jador. She had grown long since then; she could walk now, though not well. Her blindness and deafness — the very ailments that had driven Lorn to Jador in the first place — still persisted, frustrating Poppy as she grew more aware. Tonight, though, his daughter didn’t fuss. She slept angelically in the crib, her slack, pretty face up toward the ceiling. Like a doll, her smooth skin glowed with the chamber’s tender light. Her small chest moved almost imperceptibly with the in and out of her tiny puffs of breath.
Lorn hovered soundlessly over her crib, staring down at her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but she was far too young to understand. She was remarkable, strong like her mother. She had survived the long trek across the desert because she was made of steel. Even deaf and blind, she would grow into a fine woman someday.