Froi of the Exiles

Without looking back.

Chapter 26

Aldron arrived one morning with instruction from the palace. Although Lucian knew he had the full support of his cousin Isaboe, it still shamed him that he could not restore order amongst his people. There had been a week of hostility on the mountain and he had begun to wonder if it was best to send Yata down to the palace to keep her safe from the bitter words and simmering unrest.

‘If you’re here to guard the prisoner, Aldron, we’ll help you,’ Jory said, strutting to where Aldron was dismounting outside Lucian’s cottage. Everyone knew Trevanion and the Guard were keeping an eye on Jory, and he was the envy of most Mont lads his age. Usually he would receive a friendly cuff to his chin from one of the Guard in response to his remarks. Except for today.

‘I’m not here to guard the prisoner,’ Aldron said coldly. ‘I’m here to protect him.’

Aldron’s order was to take the Charynite down to the valley and shackle him to a tree on the Lumateran side of the stream. It was a safer option than keeping him up on the mountain.

Later that day, Lucian and Aldron escorted the prisoner through the crowd that had gathered outside. Tension was rife and under the watchful gaze of most of the Monts even Aldron looked uneasy. ‘What’s going on here, Lucian?’ he asked quietly.

‘The Monts being Monts.’

From where he sat on a horse tethered to Lucian’s, Rafuel of Sebastabol caught his eye.

‘You honestly don’t think they’re going to ride down that mountain and come for me,’ he asked. Lucian repeated his words to Aldron.

‘Tell him I have orders to keep him alive,’ Aldron said. ‘So if my orders are to keep him alive, he stays alive.’

Lucian translated.

‘And if his orders are to kill me?’ Rafuel asked.

‘Rest assured that you’ll be dead before you have time to give it a second thought,’ Lucian said.

When they reached the valley there was no one to be seen on their side of the stream. Lucian climbed up the oak that shaded the camp and saw Tesadora and her girls chatting with Phaedra and Cora in the vegetable plot that the Mont boys had once destroyed. Chatting. Lucian had noticed that ever since Lady Beatriss had sent down the clay cooking pot, his wife and her people had become friendlier to one another, but chatting to Tesadora and the novices was something new, and Lucian was determined to put an end to it.

Aldron pitched the tent beside a tree and as per Trevanion’s instructions he shackled Rafuel securely. Tesadora and the girls walked over and Aldron asked for the chronicle Tesadora held. He leafed through it.

‘Two hundred and forty-seven of them?’ he asked. ‘There are more Charynites in the valley than Monts on the mountain.’

‘We would have more Monts on the mountain if you two would return to your homes,’ Lucian told his cousins Constance and Sandrine, who had been living in the valley for two weeks now with Tesadora. They gave Lucian a look that would curdle milk and he thought it best not to say another word to them.

‘Is the Queen going to set him free?’ Sandrine asked, studying their Charynite prisoner carefully. ‘They are a puny lot, aren’t they?’

‘Despite it all, they are quite pleasing to the eye,’ Constance added. Tesadora gave them both a scathing look.

‘Yes, well it’s a pity you weren’t introduced to some of the Charynite soldiers during our ten-year imprisonment,’ she said, her tone acid. ‘I doubt any of the girls were cooing at how pleasing to the eye the enemy was when they were forced into their beds.’

The girls looked away, horrified and ashamed. ’We meant no offence, Tesadora,’ Sandrine said.

Tesadora gave the Mont girls a meaningful look, flicking her eyes towards Japhra before picking up the pots and walking away towards the stream. Lucian looked over to where Japhra was staring at Rafuel. Lucian knew little of her story except that she had been dragged to the palace by the impostor King when she was twelve. Years later, Lady Beatriss had managed to smuggle her out of the palace and they travelled for days across Lumatere until they reached Tesadora and her hidden cloister at the Sendecane border. The girl was said to be damaged, but she had a fierce attachment to Tesadora and a talent for healing more powerful than Lucian had ever seen. When her eyes looked past Lucian to their prisoner, he noticed that Rafuel was returning her gaze, and suddenly a rage came over Lucian. The rule was never to forget who the enemy was, and there had been times these past weeks when Lucian had forgotten. But not today. He grabbed Rafuel by his hair, pulling his head back. ‘You don’t look at our women,’ he hissed. ‘You don’t talk to them. You don’t touch them. Is that clear?’

Rafuel didn’t respond and Lucian saw sorrow in his expression.

‘Lucian. Aldron.’

Tesadora came running out from the trees that concealed the other side of the stream.

‘Riders,’ she said when she reached them. ‘Coming from the direction of Alonso.’

Lucian and Aldron crept towards the stream, the waterberry tree keeping them hidden. Across the stream Lucian could see the cave dwellers standing, ten or so horsemen riding towards them.

‘King’s men?’ Tesadora asked.

Aldron shook his head. ‘From how we hear it through the Belegonians, there is no King of Charyn.’

‘No King?’ Lucian asked. ‘When?’

‘Perhaps a week or two ago.’

‘Where’s Froi then?’ he demanded. ‘If he succeeded, he should be home by now.’

Aldron shook his head. ‘There’s too much uncertainty about who actually assassinated the King. Some are saying he died at the hands of his First Advisor.’

Lucian turned back to where Rafuel was chained to the tree and crept beside him.

‘Your King is dead, Rafuel. Approaching now are men with no uniform, but they ride with great authority.’

Hope blazed in Rafuel’s eyes. He leapt to his feet before collapsing under the weight of the chains. He strained to look through the trees across the stream.

‘Perhaps Zabat has returned with Froi,’ Rafuel said. ‘Unshackle me and I can see for myself.’

Lucian looked at the shackles and then at the prisoner.

‘If you run, Charynite, I will kill you,’ he warned, reluctantly unlocking the chains. ‘If I don’t kill you, which is highly unlikely, then Aldron will kill you. Aldron is the Queen’s bodyguard, so you can imagine his aim is almost as good as mine.’

The moment the chains were off, both Lucian and Rafuel wormed their way to the stream beside Tesadora and Aldron, who had crept closer to see what lay through the reeds.

‘I never doubted the lad would succeed,’ Rafuel chuckled.

‘From the way we hear it, the King’s First Man was the assassin,’ Lucian said.

Rafuel turned to him in disbelief. ‘You mean the King’s Advisor, Bestiano? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘So who’s in charge if the King is dead?’ Tesadora asked Rafuel in Charyn.

Lucian noticed her language skills had improved since the Charynites had first arrived.

‘The son of the King’s first cousin,’ Rafuel said. ‘Tariq. His father died of a mysterious illness in the palace three years ago and Tariq’s mother’s people managed to have the lad smuggled out. If he sits on the throne, the Priests will be happy, the Provincari will be happy and Charyn will be happy. Royal blood without the insanity. Nothing like it to make a Charynite dance with joy.’

‘One can understand why,’ Lucian murmured.

‘But it has been foretold that the last will make the first and the Princess Quintana will produce a male child by the time she comes of age to be both a cursebreaker and heir. All we will need is an honourable man, unaligned to the provinces, to act as regent to the boy until he comes of age. If that does not come to pass, we will be happy for Tariq to take the throne and for the Priests to come out of hiding and find a better way to break the curse than