The Redemption of Asphodel

Copyright

The Asphodel Cycle Book Two:

The Redemption of Asphodel

Copyright @2007, 2016 Celina Summers

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events is coincidental.

Originally published by Aspen Mountain Press, August 2007

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

Released in the United States of America

Cover art—KMD Web Designs

Formatting & design—KMD Web Designs

Dramatis Personae

Asphodel

Prosper de Asphodel—Count of Asphodel, Tamsen’s father

Solange de Spesialle—wife of Prosper, Tamsen’s mother

Tamsen de Asphodel—ruling Countess of Asphodel

The Elven Realm

The House of Ka’antira

Kaldarte—the Elven Seer, wife of Arami, mother of Lamec, Wilden, and Morrote

Arami—Woodlands Lord

Lamec—member of the Elven Council, father of Liliath and Cetenne

Ardenne—Lamec’s wife

Liliath—Tamsen’s foster-sister, Cetenne’s twin

Cetenne—Tamsen’s foster sister, Liliath’s twin

Wilden—Elven Scout, fealty-found to Mariol, Marquis de Beotte and Morrote’s twin

Morrote—Elven Scout, fealty-bound to Mariol, Marquis de Beotte and Wilden’s twin

Antir—last of the Elven Kings, brother to Kaldarte

The House of Ka’breona

Brial—Elven Scout leader

Beron—commander of Elven armies, father of Brial, Balon, and Berond

Balon—Brial’s brother

Berond—Brial’s brother

The House of Ka’charona

Acheros—leader of the Elven Council of Elders

Leither—Acheros’ wife, mind mage, head of Elven Mages

Geochon

Lufaux—King of Ansienne

Mariol—Marquis de Beotte, cousin to the King, member of Privy Council, and warmage

Anton de Ceolliune—Duke de Ceolliune, co-ruler of Callat-Ceolliune, father to Anner

Anner de Ceolliune—heir to the duchy of Ceolliune

Jeshan de Callat—Count of Callat, co-ruler of Callat-Ceolliune

Glaucon de Pamphylia—heir to the duchy of Pamphylia

Mylan de Phoclydies—Earl of Phoclydies

Myrielle—Mariol’s mistress

Gabril de Spesialle—Duke of Spesialle, brother to Solange, member of Privy Council

Hyagrem de Silenos—warmage, tutor of Tamsen

Dedication

For my daughters, who taught me that princesses can be both badass and wise.

Reviews

…I enjoy a lot of books but there aren’t many that I read that I can say brought tears to my eyes, caused me to laugh, or caused me to feel choked with emotion. But Summers’ characterizations and dialogue in The Asphodel Cycle did bring all those emotions and more to me, enhancing the pleasure of these books...

—An American Editor

…There have been times I have felt cheated when reading a fantasy quest…Ms. Summers never cheats. Each of her books is packed with intensity and gentleness. Still she leaves you craving more. While reading Redemption I felt there was an underlying meaning to Tamsen’s journey. There is more to her adventure and battle, she is learning her own truth, her strength of being. How does a writer capture this? This is the craft of writing, which Ms. Summers dominates…

—Chris Chat Reviews

…Tamsen de Asphodel is a strong female fantasy character in a male dominated genre. She is a breath of fresh air, witty and sarcastic, vulnerable and iron-clad. She is stubborn and headstrong and goes off to do her own thing, not needing rescue by her entourage of men, which often leaves them in her dust, fuming at her insolence. Her weakness is the reckoning: her gift of power from the gods is also her greatest burden…

—Amazon reviewer

...This has to be the best fantasy romance I have ever read. I could not put this book down until I had read the final page...

—Coffee Time Romance & More

…The Reckoning of Asphodel, by Celina Summers, is traditional high fantasy, with chivalric knights and wood-wise elves, beautiful princesses and wise female seers, good and evil sorcerers and magicians. It’s written in the language typical of the genre. It is, however, much better written, with more complex characters and situations, than many similar books. This is a serious fantasy novel, not the verbal equivalent of a computer game...

—Novelspot.com

Prelude

I opened my eyes. We stood in the great throne room of Ansienne. The room was pregnant with foreboding, the marble floors and walls gleaming in the flickering light of the pair of torches flanking the alabaster throne. The silence unnerved me. It rang in my ears, punctuated only by the ragged sounds of my breathing.

I was weak; so terribly weak. My legs trembled beneath me. I knew that I had just enough strength for one final blast of magic.

I was afraid to use it.

Brial stood before me, the great golden sword drawn and singing its song of death. Gabril de Spesialle confronted him, a smirk curving his cruel, thin mouth. My eyes met my uncle’s and I shuddered; I was too weak to face him and he knew it.

Brial, run, I whispered.

You don’t want to see him fall, niece? Spesialle asked me in amusement. I swayed as the room whirled around me.

Don’t taunt her, Brial said in a low voice. Your quarrel is with me as well. There is no honor in torturing a foe too weak to withstand you.

Spesialle’s gloating eyes rested on my husband with a faint look of respect. Well spoken, Elf, he said musingly. I do indeed have a quarrel with you.

My uncle drew his massive sword from over his shoulder, and I stared at the blade I had seen last held to my throat. He held the sword at the ready, and smiled coldly.

Well, then, Brial Ka’breona, he purred quietly. Shall we fight for the girl?

The swords crashed together…

…

…and I awoke with a start. Instinctively, I reached for Brial, only to find him gone from his place at my side. I sat up quickly.

My husband sat alone, staring into the dimly glowing hearth, his eyes distant.

Nothing can be more daunting than to discover that you are a plaything of the gods. Within and around you, the divine test the resolve of the mortals upon this realm they created. The feeling wears a shroud of hopelessness. It lies heavily upon the soul.

I bear a terrible magic. Since the day I set my power against my uncle’s pet magician in the ruined city of Leselle, my power has grown. I awakened from that confrontation to find the color bleached from my skin and hair. The silvery hues marked me as a scion of the magic that twisted within me, and even my once-blue eyes were now silver-gray.

But as my magic grew, it became harder for me to resist. On the battlefield of Asphodel, I had called down an appalling retribution upon Spesialle’s army. The cyclone I’d conjured from the summer skies had slaughtered thousands of men. Such an immense act of magic destroyed my strength; it also shattered our unborn, and unknown, child’s tenuous existence in my womb. In the end, a botched attempt at assassination ended my pregnancy. Jeshan de Callat, the architect of that ambush, was dead. He had fallen at my feet from the blade of my sword two nights ago, and I watched as his life’s blood stained the snow red.

I am fated, it seems, always to watch the pristine white of snow marred by the crimson virulence of blood.

I shivered, watching Brial’s silent vigil while my thoughts raced. My past dreams had proved visionary, foreshadowing events in my life with painful accuracy. Was this dream equally significant? For years, dreams that were either the thin threads of foresight or the haunted remembrance of the past had plagued me. Every night, Spesialle executed my parents as I watched, hidden in the orchards that bordered my home. I relived the sight of his sword slicing through the alabaster skin of my mother’s throat and watched her fall to the terrace. I saw my uncle cut through her long, fair braid as proof of her death. I smelled the sweet aroma of my father’s roasted flesh as he was felled by the lightning my uncle had called to kill him. It mingled with the scent of the storm that I, in my juvenile grief and fury, had unknowingly called. The sudden blizzard lashed through the orchard, destroying trees already in the first blush of spring, and shrouded me from my uncle as I fled to the forest and sanctuary with my Elven kin.

Over the past year that dream had changed. Every time it did so, it showed me a possible conclusion to the paths I took.

"Why are you awake, cariad?" Brial’s deep voice rumbled suddenly through the darkness of the tent. He rose and came to join me, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at me questioningly.

I had a dream, I murmured, leaning into his hand as he cupped my face.

A new one?

Yes.

I heard the frown in his voice as he asked, What should we do about it?

I had no answer.

I closed my eyes as he slipped beneath the covers and pulled me against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat soothed me back into an uneasy slumber.

…

He raised the sword over his head, swinging it at Brial with a huge, slashing blow. Brial leapt to parry it, and I fell as he blocked the blade with his own golden sword whose song screamed for blood.

I already have the girl, Brial pointed out with a tight smile as the blow swung past him harmlessly to the floor.

Spesialle’s answering smile was just as bleak. Are you sure, Elflord? he asked.

The world spun around me once more, and everything went black.

Chapter One

I awoke the next morning still pillowed on Brial’s warm chest. He was sleeping, his chest rising rhythmically beneath my cheek. Slowly, so as not to wake him, I rose upon my elbows.

Since the battle at Asphodel, I had fallen into the habit of watching him as he slept. It was a reverent activity for me; I could look upon him and admire his beauty without facing those wicked, glittering black eyes that could still throw my mind into a whirl. In those first weeks after the battle the debilitation that was the aftereffect of great magic had kept me inactive, and Brial had spent much of his time caring for me. When he was awake, those deep eyes clouded with concern. When he was asleep, the ebony velvet of his eyes hid behind smooth lids and a dark fan of lashes. I could watch him quietly, thankful that he had been spared to me.

Now I watched him for different reasons. Our relationship, while loving, was always contentious. My husband was strong-willed and I was bad-tempered. Those early morning moments of peace were a balm to me when I felt troubled.

Brial was a gift to me. He brought me a deep, quiet joy—and many arguments.

These few moments of privacy and reprieve would be the last we would have for some time. Later this morning, we would march to Geochon, the capital of our beleaguered kingdom. I snuggled back down into my place on his chest.

"Awake already, cariad?" His voice rumbled in my ear, still sleepy but amused.

Of course. Some of us don’t sleep until noon.

He chuckled. Brial stretched his limbs as he roused to full wakefulness, and I suppressed a sigh. I wanted nothing more than to lie here with him, cuddled in his arms for long hours while we talked. Such laziness was a luxury we’d had on very few mornings since our vialigatis—our lifebonding; I knew that they would be even fewer in the weeks ahead.

I’ll make some tea, I offered, tilting my face up to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek.

I sat up and pushed my snarled, silvery hair from my face. I still hated it, this mark of the magic within me, but Brial seemed to like it. He reached up and wrapped one long, tangled curl around his fingers, tugging me back to him for another kiss.

Brial sat up as I turned to call flames back into the Elfstones on the hearth.

I put a small traveling kettle on the stones, filled it with water from the barrel, and dug my small pouch of herbal tea from my pack. While the water heated, I sliced bread and toasted it. That, along with some fruit, would serve as our meal. We ate in companionable silence. Brial ducked out to talk to the others, while I tidied up and began to brush out the tangles from my long hair.

I dressed, fastened my long, fur-lined winter cloak around my neck and wound my hair tightly around my head in thick braids. By the time he returned, I was packing the last of our things into the saddlebags.

It’s snowing again, he announced, brushing some from his cloak. We will have a long, cold ride.

I didn’t reply as he lifted the saddlebags to his shoulder. I did not really care for snow.

The winter was still in its infancy. Light snow drifted over the encampment and hung like a misty cloud over the gray smudge of the Elven Forest to the West. When I had first arrived at this camp in search of the traitor Jeshan de Callat, I had burned the tents over the heads of his army in a moment of rage. My great friend Anner de Ceolliune had taken command of Callat’s army and with our men from Asphodel had rebuilt it. We were leaving the majority of these men to hold the border of Ansienne against an attack from the neighboring kingdom of Tartarus. Jeshan had confirmed my suspicions before I killed him: the treacherous alliance between the usurper King and my scheming uncle Gabril de Spesialle had traded territories to Tartarus and Vaulad in exchange for their help in defeating our rebellion.

Our friends had commandeered the royal tent, now deprived of its original occupant. I ducked my head under the flap Brial held for me and, as I entered, the men around the heavy table rose to their feet.

Anner, Duke of Ceolliune, bowed to me with that innate grace that marked his quiet courtesy. His gray eyes smiled at me, while across from him Mylan and Glaucon, his best friends, grinned in welcome. Mariol looked at me searchingly from his chair next to the brazier, and then glanced at Brial. From the corner of my eye, I saw my husband nod briefly at him as I pushed the hood back from my hair.

Well, gentlemen, are we ready to go?

We’ve brought more than a thousand men to secure this border, Anner said, reverting to business. More should be on their way. Five hundred others will travel with us to Geochon, including some of the men Jeshan brought under his command. Since they bear the royal colors, we think it will reassure the city."

They might need some reassurance, Mylan noted. Hopefully, we can be there before Spesialle discovers what has happened here.

Ah yes, Brial murmured, his voice mild. Do we have any information of the Duke?

None, Glaucon replied. No one has heard a thing, save for his betrayal of Callat.

I sipped my wine while the men fell into one of their convoluted discussions about strategy and fortifications along our western border. My thoughts slipped to my uncle, and I felt the cold, angry coils tighten in my guts once again.

…

We traveled as speedily as a force of five hundred could in the winter. The men who once marched under Jeshan de Callat watched me tentatively when I passed. They could not forget the power I had displayed that night, nor could they ignore the mercy I had shown them. Burning them inside their tents would have been easier, and most of them knew it. A lone warrior named Demont had witnessed my confrontation with Jeshan. He spent much of his time relating those events to his compatriots, and slowly they began to lose their fear of me.

We made good time once we reached the road. At night, the men set up camp outside whatever village we were closest to, while several of the leaders rode into town. They did not permit me to sleep anywhere other than a nice, warm inn. Normally the overprotectiveness of Brial and his friends annoyed me. This time, I was very glad to acquiesce. Anner usually remained in the camp, as much to avoid seeing Brial and I go to our room as to maintain watch over the men. Although he seemed more reconciled to our marriage, it was still a source of pain to him.

I was glad that Mariol was with us. His knowledge of the Court, his power within the nobility of Ansienne would be as much help to us as his undoubted strength in magic. My Ka’antira uncle, Wilden, had assumed the role of my bodyguard now that Brial was so preoccupied with other things. Wilden was quieter than he’d been before; the deaths of his brothers, my Ka’antira uncles Morrote and Lamec, in the battle of Asphodel had taken something from him. Sorrow had carved deep lines into his Elven features, but Wilden was comforting and solid as he rode behind me.

The first night at the inn, he knocked at our door as we finished a hot meal. Brial opened it, and Wilden entered with a small chest.

What is that? I asked suspiciously.

Myrielle said to tell you that you know better than to run off to the capital without any appropriate clothes, he replied with a straight face. I am supposed to lecture you on the importance of your appearance and the impression that it conveys. Consider yourself lectured.

With that, he turned on his heel and left, his eyes twinkling as he closed the door. I scowled at Brial as he laughed uproariously.

It isn’t funny, Brial.

"You’re wrong, cariad, was his heartless reply. It’s very funny."

I fell asleep as soon as I fell into bed each night. Inevitably, the dream would fall upon me. Usually, I awoke with the ringing sound of swords clashing in my ears. Then, I would brood over the dream until sleep claimed me again.

And it started all over.

The onset of winter did not hamper our speed as we traveled across northern Ansienne. It was not very cold yet, and the blanket of snow softened the plains that stretched from the Elven Forest to the sea. Once we were in Geochon, we planned to return to Mariol’s house in the Plautus district while the others went to their homes. I hoped that those familiar, comfortable surroundings would strengthen me. The power I’d drawn upon to revenge myself upon Jeshan had depleted my resources, and I had the remainder of my interrupted recovery to undergo.

The day before we reached Geochon, we held a conference in the taproom of the large inn we rented for the night. As we sat around a long, scrubbed table with mugs of brandy or mulled wine, we discussed the best way to proceed.

Mariol was cautious. We are walking a fine line. On one hand, we need to enter Geochon from a position of strength. We can rely upon that to call the Privy Council to deal with the issue of the succession and to squash any of the de Callat pretensions. On the other hand, we do not want to present ourselves as conquerors. That would alienate many of the courtiers. Nobles tend to be very touchy about their own power and resent anyone who appears to threaten it.

We won’t be occupying the palace, I pointed out. That should be a clear indication of our intentions.

Yes, and you killed the man everyone thought to be the new King, Mariol retorted. Let’s not go into Geochon throwing our might around. We can house the soldiers as natural extensions of our retinues at this troubled time if we must. We cannot fall into the trap of turning this into an armed debate on the succession. The army is there to defend us, if this gets ugly, and to vouch for the events that led up to the death of Jeshan de Callat. As a matter of fact, Tamsen, the less involved you are in this the better.

Why don’t we send a runner into the city tonight? Anner suggested.

I think we want to avoid alarming the city, I replied. The death of a monarch, even an unloved one, throws a country into turmoil. Let’s keep it quiet until we announce it in the council. We don’t want to have to wade through riots in the streets in order to get to the palace.

That’s true, he admitted. He darted a glance at Brial, who sat impassively at my side. With a small frown, he bowed and left the room.

…

As he lay in bed that night, Brial was solemn. I was brushing my hair out in a chair by the hearth when I noticed it. Usually Brial loved to watch me do this, and would take the brush from my hand and brush it himself. Tonight, he was preoccupied with his own thoughts, and his black eyes were once again velvety and distant. I waited; if I knew one thing about my husband, it was that he would not be able to keep quiet about his concerns for long.

I was wondering, he began, his brow furrowed, if you are truly starting to get stronger.

Some, I said, plaiting my hair in preparation for sleep. I think a few weeks in one place will help.

He rose from the bed with a sigh, and came to sit in the chair opposite my own. How much rest do you actually think you’ll get in Geochon?

I don’t know. I am not on the Privy Council and I refuse to accept any claim I have to the throne. I should think I‘d be able to get quite a bit. Why?

I understand why you need to be there, but I think it is important that you take some time to rest and heal.

I secured the long braid with a ribbon and tossed it over my shoulder with a frown. What is on your mind, beloved? This is leading somewhere, I think.

You haven’t been sleeping well, he said. Brial tapped his fingers together in front of his chest and regarded me from behind his protective impassivity. This dream of yours is taking a toll upon you.

It will pass, I said mildly.

A flash of emotion crossed his face and his black eyes glittered for a moment. You need to be at your full strength. You need to be prepared for whatever it is that your uncle is planning.

I considered this. "What has upset you so, cariad? There is more to this than that."

I know that I can protect you physically, but only you can protect yourself magically. The small magics that Wilden and I possess will be of no use against your uncle. Even Mariol doubts his ability to guard you. You are the only one among us with power enough to stand against Spesialle. I just want to be certain that you are strong enough to do so.

I stared at him in astonishment, got up, and crossed to his chair. Without a word, I crawled into his lap and curled up there. His arms came around me. As he pressed his lips tenderly to my brow, he cradled me with quiet tenderness.

Beloved, I murmured. Don’t worry so much for me.

I know you will go to the first meeting of the Council, he went on doggedly. I know you have to, Tamsen. But I want you to promise me: after it that meeting is over, you will rest.

I can’t promise to stay in bed the entire time we are in the city, Brial. I can only promise to rest as much as I can. Will that satisfy you?

We should have gone to Daphnis’s sanctuary before we started on this journey, he muttered. Perhaps she could have shed some light upon this dream.

We didn’t have time.

"We should have made the time."

Daphnis is a priestess of the Virgin Huntress, I mused. Maybe there is a sanctuary to her in the Artemicon.

He did not answer and I noticed that a new concern haunted his eyes. I am more afraid for you now than I have ever been.

It’s just a dream.

Your dreams are more than that and you know it. I wouldn’t be so concerned if you’d just tell me what happens in it.

I hesitated. I dream that you are fighting Spesialle in the throne room of Ansienne. That’s all there is to it, and it’s not as if I need to be a seer to realize that one day you and he will fight.

Then why does it trouble you so?

I don’t know.

His arms tightened. When we get to Geochon, you must rest. Once you have regained your strength, we’ll decide what to do next.

I looked up into his face. I have a lot to accomplish here, Brial. I do not have time to be ill in bed—but I see your point. If you want to coop me up and get me into a foul temper, and can survive my boredom and irritability, I will follow your wishes once our business with the Council is done.

He buried his face in my hair. I know how you hate this, he whispered. Thank you.

…

We rode through the gates of Geochon in the middle of the next afternoon. The knights and Mariol led the way, their horses at a steady walk. I followed a little behind them, flanked by the cloaked Elves. As we approached the western gates of the city, I nudged my horse forward. Brial frowned, but joined me at the vanguard of our column after a swift exchanged glance.

The two guards at the gate peered down the long column of soldiers and then looked up at the armored knights.

What is your business in Geochon? The man’s voice was respectful, but tainted with suspicion.

I am the Marquis of Beotte, Mariol drawled, his courtier’s voice rising smoothly over us. I am bringing the royal army home from the front.

The guards looked at us in puzzlement. Where’s the King?

Jeshan de Callat is dead. We go to call the Privy Council.

I watched with ironic amusement as the men tried to assimilate this information. Anner stirred restlessly, his horse skittering on the road.

Mariol looked down at them. Let us pass, my good man. We do not have time to linger here. Keep the news of Callat’s death to yourself until the Council decides what to do.

The guards reacted instantly to the cool authority in his voice. Without further question, the great iron gates of the city slid open to admit us.

I heard a chuckle behind Mylan’s visor and I smothered a smile. Mariol’s insouciant manner had smoothed paths for us in the past. Unimpeded, the column marched into the city.

We continued through the streets to the doors of the palace. As we passed, people stood aside to let us by. Aside from occasional muttering, they were silent. The mood in the streets was sullen and I rode uneasily. Why were the people of Geochon looking at us so strangely? The royal colors flashed from the two hundred men at the head of the army. Our hope had been that the presence of these men would reassure them. Apparently, our tactic had not worked.

Brial loosened his sword. I turned my head at the sound, and our eyes met.

Something is wrong here, he said in a low voice.

I agree, I replied.

The knights felt it too, as did the men behind us. The streets were lined with grim-faced townsfolk. Their numbers swelled as we went on into the royal district.

We proceeded to the palace. Gauging the mood of the city, I dismissed peeling from the column and heading to Mariol’s townhouse. Obviously, Brial felt the same way. He didn’t argue when we passed through the district of Plautus. When the column marched in through the gates of the palace, I began to breathe a little easier.

The Court entrance looked much the same as it had before, with its wide, imposing marble steps curving up to the massive double doors. The last time I had seen those steps, they were slick with blood after Lufaux’s assassination. Glaucon pulled in his horse and shouted an order to the column of men. They formed into a solid block of warriors warding the doors. The remainder of our leadership dismounted.

The city was a little unfriendly, Mylan removed his helmet. The people seemed to be afraid of the army.

Either word of Jeshan’s death has preceded us, or the army has been particularly repressive in the capital, I agreed. Either way, the next few hours are going to be on the dangerous side, I think.

Tamsen, when we were here last, the chamberlain announced us to the Council, Mariol began as he pulled off his gloves. I think he’s a herald. Let’s see if we can find the same man. We’ll need his help when we go crashing into the room.

I nodded and joined him at the front. As I passed, I said, We need Demont with us as well.

Mylan gestured to the soldier, who joined us. His coarsened face was anxious, but he fell readily in at my back. All right, gentlemen, I began in a low voice. No swords unless necessary in here. Anner, you need to find and isolate any of the de Callat kin who might have a problem with our announcement. Glaucon and Mylan, you protect the doors. We do not want anyone running out of the council to get his or her own private armies. Mariol and I will go in together. Brial, you and Wilden—

I broke off, assessing the grim-faced Elves.

Mariol’s eyebrows rose as I finished lamely, —will continue to do exactly what you want to do anyway, so just try to stay out of our way when we’re speaking. I don’t know what idiot ever thought Elves were good plotters, but you two have to be the worst co-conspirators in history.

As I intended, the flippant comment made them all laugh. I looked at Mariol and heaved a sigh.

Well, my dear? Shall we go in? he asked, offering me his arm.

I laid my hand upon it and we mounted the stairs. Out of the corner of my mouth, I muttered, I thought we agreed that I would have nothing to do with this.

Circumstances change, he replied. Find that herald, Tamsen. If he is in the corridors, we will take him with us. If he is in the throne room, find him quickly and send Wilden to fetch him. His validation of your actions that day will go a long way to proclaim your intentions.

So will my murder of Jeshan.

Mariol squinted around at the servants scurrying from our path. I don’t think they will hold that against you. These people are newly resentful of the royal authority. The looks in the city were directed at the royal soldiers, not our own. I think it very likely that my old friend didn’t find the throne a comfortable seat.

I hope so, I said. I have very little desire to spend the night in a dungeon, Mariol.

As we approached the great gilded door to the throne room, I spotted my herald standing in the antechamber. There he is, I murmured to Wilden, who broke off to fetch the man while we paused.

Tamsen de Asphodel, the herald greeted me with a bow. Welcome back to Geochon, milady.

Honored herald, I began. I may need your services in the throne room this day. Can you tell me what we can expect in there?

The Council is in turmoil. Rumor has reached them of the King’s death. His son, Jemore, is attempting to assume emergency powers for his father.

Is the Council with him?

The herald frowned. The house of Callat has not been well loved since Jeshan took the throne. Of course, some nobles support him with an eye to their own advancement. Most of them, however, have been closemouthed and tight-lipped under the new regime.

I exchanged a glance with Mariol. He grimaced and turned to Anner. Lord de Ceolliune, you protected this lady when she confronted the Privy Council once before. I call upon you and the vows you swore that day to extend your protection here.

Anner raised his sword to his visor and threw open the door with a crash of his gauntleted fist. The herald entered the room first and announced, The Lady Tamsen de Asphodel and the Marquis de Beotte come to address the Council! All rise!

I raised my chin and sailed through the throng of the crowded courtiers on Mariol’s arm. The chamber was shocked into silence at the herald’s proclamation. I noticed that there were more people here than on previous occasions. Alone on the dais, in a chair placed just below the throne, sat a man of about thirty: Jemore de Callat. He was a stocky man, with the features of his sire and a stunned expression on his face. Without stopping to think, he rose to his feet and shouted, Arrest this traitorous woman at once!

Anner advanced on him with his sword leveled at the man’s chest. I stepped forward, and shouted, Stop, Anner!

He halted, keeping his sword pointed at Jemore, who was trembling, ashen-faced, at this new turn of events.

Wilden, I said. Disarm the Count de Callat and hold him in the center of the room where all can see him.

My uncle moved past Anner to obey, taking the dagger from Jemore’s belt and hustling him to the center of the room.

How dare you attack me in this way? the man sputtered.

I moved past him to stand on the dais. To my sorrow, I overlooked a traitor’s dagger in this room before. I have no intention of repeating that mistake.

The courtiers murmured as Mariol followed me up the stairs. Brial was a step ahead of him. Anner, Mylan, and Glaucon ranged themselves around the base of the platform, leaving the herald and Demont standing in the supplicant’s place before the empty throne. I sent a measuring gaze around the room, marking the blank countenances of many of the men watching us.

Milords, I began. The last time I entered this room, I begged for the restoration of my lands from the treacherous sorcerer, Gabril de Spesialle. His Majesty, King Lufaux, granted my request and verified my claim to the county of Asphodel. Spesialle then murdered our King, setting into motion the events that have since consumed us.

They stared at me in silence. An icy-slick sweat broke out onto my brow. I continued in a stronger voice. The Duke was in league with Jeshan de Callat, and the regicide was committed with Callat’s full knowledge and cooperation.

She lies! Jemore yelled. Several of the courtiers shifted position and two of them tried to sidle to the door. Mylan and Glaucon cut them off. They remained at the door, hands crossed on the hilts of their swords as they rested the points against the marble floor.

I am not in the habit of lying. I name Jeshan de Callat as a usurper of the Ansienne throne, a traitor, and an instigator of regicide. For his misdeeds and the betrayal of his country, I have administered justice to him on behalf of the kingdom last week in the forests that border my land. I tossed the Callat signet ring to the marble floors, where it struck with a ping and rolled until it came to a rest in the center of the room. The usurper is dead by my hand. The Callat monarchy is at an end.

Speech and movement erupted in the council chamber. Some of the courtiers cheered, embracing their neighbors in excitement. Others went pale, hands moving to the ceremonial daggers at their belts. More disturbingly, some of them remained silent, eyes turned to us.

Mariol took up the burden of speech. We have come to Geochon, my lords, to convene the Privy Council. It is time for us to determine our next king. The Duke de Spesialle has formed an alliance with Tartarus and Vaulad, and both kingdoms are preparing to send their armies into Ansienne. We do not intend to name a ruler ourselves. We have only one demand: we will allow no scion of the line of Jeshan de Callat to ascend the throne of Ansienne. We will not lend countenance to such an act.

Demont, I said quietly. The soldier stepped forward. This good man witnessed my execution of the usurper, and can vouch for the words that Jeshan de Callat spoke when informing me of Spesialle’s betrayal. When I took the royal seal from Callat’s hand, I made this man swear to keep it safe, until we had found our next ruler. No one will take the throne this time, milords, without the consent of the full council. We are here to insure that no one tries.

Chapter Two

One man laughed. My gaze shot to his face. I did not recognize him from the winter I had spent at Court. As I watched, he stopped laughing and stared contemptuously at me.

You’ve already taken the throne, milady, he sneered. Why go through the sham of a Council vote?

Demont, tell them the rest of your mandate, Mariol ordered the man.

I am not to give this signet to any but the next ruler, and under no circumstances am I to give it to the Lady of Asphodel. She has renounced her familial claim to the throne, and refuses to accept it.

You refuse to accept the throne? the man said in a disbelieving voice. You rode into Geochon at the head of an army, and you expect us to believe that you will not take the crown?

I will not. I am content with my lands. I have no desire to rule a kingdom, only to administrate my own inheritance well.

The herald stepped forward and shouted, My lords, we have heard and witnessed here that the Lady Tamsen Ka’antira de Asphodel renounces all claim to the throne of Ansienne! All honor to her and her noble house!

We have decisions to make, milords. I allowed a note of urgency to creep into my voice. We do not have time to dally. Our enemies will attack our kingdom in the spring, We have left our armies on the northern border to protect us from Tartarus, but the south is still undefended from the traitor Spesialle—and there is no snow to delay their advance. Ansienne needs a strong, wise King and we must select him!

Most of the men in the room cheered at this. Some, I knew, cheered only because they felt they might have a chance to ascend the throne. Some, however, were genuinely elated at the turn of events. I relaxed, darting a quick glance at my husband, whose hand was white-knuckled on his sword hilt. I tucked my hand into the crook of his other arm, smiling up at him as I did so. Brial forced himself to stand down, although his black eyes still glittered dangerously.

As the Countess has declared herself unwilling to pursue her claim to the throne, a man of middle years with a wise, thoughtful face said, then I propose that she supervise the Council that will assess the claimants in the name of our new monarch.

I winced. Surely others qualify more for that task, milord.

His blue eyes twinkled at me. Better qualified, perhaps, but not as impartial, milady.

There were nods and murmurs of agreement around the room, and I watched the idea take hold with a sick feeling in my stomach. Mariol was swift to take advantage of my confusion.

An excellent idea, Lord Tizand. Mariol’s lips were twitching as he turned to me. When did you want to convene the Council, milady?

I gave him a hard look, but he smirked at me. I sighed in defeat.

Honored herald, have the death of the usurper proclaimed in the city and announce the intentions of the Privy Council, I commanded. The Council will convene in three days’ time. Announce as well, the ineligibility of the house of Callat and the renunciation of the house of Asphodel. All who wish to pursue their claim should appear before us when we reconvene. They will then present their lineage and their claim. Until then, I prorogue the Council. Are we all agreed?

What of the usurper’s family? another man asked.

We will hold them until the new monarch decides their fate. Jeshan de Callat paid for his treachery with his life, and we have assumed command of the royal army in the field. The oaths of those soldiers hold only to the ruler of Ansienne. Once we have established the monarchy, the new Council can determine the punishment for the house of Callat.

Jemore de Callat staggered in Wilden’s grip, and I turned to him. Do not consider making a call to arms on the basis of your father’s treason, I warned. We will not accept your claim to the throne. If you accede to our wishes, it may be possible to preserve some of your family’s holdings. Don’t jeopardize all you have for a cause that we will not allow you to pursue.

I held his frightened gaze for several long, loaded seconds and then returned my attention to the Court.

Anner, Duke de Ceolliune, I charge you to secure the palace and the city. Assume command of the royal army, and hold Geochon against any who attempt to take her. We will allow no armed forces to enter or leave the city until the throne is secured. All warriors under any noble’s command will report to the Duke of Ceolliune. You must surrender your authority over them, milords, until we have a ruler to whom you swear fealty.

Anner bowed. It shall be as you say, milady. My men will deal with any who break the peace.

I nodded. I think that is all for today, milords. Return to your homes, and we will meet again three days from now. The gods go with you.

I curtsied to the entire Court. Then I looked up at Brial. He released my hand from his arm, bowed to me, and fell in behind me as I swept down from the dais and from the room.

…

We left the palace after our coup in the throne room and rode through the still-sullen streets to Mariol’s house with an honor detachment of our own men guarding us. The remainder of our soldiers remained to secure the palace, while Anner sent the bulk of the royal army in the city to patrol and protect the walls.

I was happy to reenter Mariol’s home, the site of so many pleasant memories. Returning to my old suite of rooms, I felt contentment wash over my exhausted body. Although the house was empty, deserted since the death of Lufaux, but within hours Wilden found some of the domestic staff. The manor was beginning to hum with activity, as the servitors returned to the service of their well-loved, but irascible Marquis.

Fortunately, I had little need of servants. The first thing I did when I reached my rooms was to order the huge tub to be filled with water. Then I heated it until it steamed. The bottles of oils and perfumes still lined the walls of the bathing room, and I stripped off my clothes and sank into the hot scented water.

Sometimes magic is nice.

You’re going to turn into a prune, Brial advised me an hour later as he lounged in the door.

I don’t care. I’ve missed this tub.

He laughed and knelt at the side of the inset tub, dribbling his fingers in the water. I’d join you, but I have no intention of smelling like a flower garden for the rest of the day.

I slanted a look up at him from under my lashes, and to my delight saw the familiar banked-fires intensity gleaming from his black eyes. It’s a shame, I agreed. Mylan and Glaucon would be certain to notice it.

He sighed, and rose to his feet. You’re an evil woman.

I certainly try to be.

Two hours later, I joined the men in the library, freshly clad in a warm, loose woolen gown and with my damp hair hanging down my back. As I walked in, Mariol saluted me with his glass. Today was beautifully done, Tamsen.

I don’t see what was so beautiful about it, I said irritably. I got stuck in the middle of this entire mess, which is precisely where I didn’t want to be.

"I think that at this point, you need to be right in the middle of it, Mariol corrected me. You don’t need to be some center of activity away from the Court now. Let’s keep you as the mediator and above the messy politics. That will serve