Gershon scowled at her. “What was that for?”
“It seemed the best way to aggravate you. I’ve missed doing that.”
Kearney laughed.
“You always did excel at it,” the swordmaster said, sounding cross, though it seemed to take an effort. After a moment, he offered a smile of his own. “You’ve done us all a great service, Archminister. And I promise you that every man under my command will know of it. I’m aware of how they’ve treated you these past several turns and I intend to put a stop to it.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I believe it is.”
She had no desire to argue with the man. “All right then. Again, you have my thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Gershon bowed to the king. “Your Majesty.”
“Good night, Gershon.”
In recent days, Keziah had tried to avoid being alone with the king, but that was where she now found herself. Kearney stared into the fire, but occasionally his eyes would flick toward her.
“Twice today I’ve feared that I might lose you,” he said, breaking a lengthy silence. “I can’t tell you how the thought of that frightened me.”
“I’m grateful to you, Your Majesty.”
He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. “I didn’t say that as your king.”
Keziah shivered. How long had she waited to hear him say such a thing to her? And yet now that he had at last spoken the words, she wondered if she still wanted him. Her ambivalence surprised her. It even frightened her a bit. She could hardly remember a time when she hadn’t loved this man.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. But you
“We’ve been so much more than that to each other, Kez. Can’t we be again? I’ve missed you. With everything that’s happened today I’ve realized again how much I still need you.”
She smiled, despite the tears in her eyes. “I’ll always love you, and not only as my king. But it’s been so long…” She faltered. “Maybe too long. I don’t know if I can go back.”
“So we can never be together again? Not even tonight, on the eve of a war that could end all that we’ve known and fought together to preserve?” He smiled playfully. “You have to stay awake anyway.”
Keziah laughed, though her heart was aching. He had always been able to find humor in even the most difficult of circumstances. It was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him.
She walked to where he stood and put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. “Not even tonight,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
They stood that way for a long time, until at last she turned her face up to his and kissed him one last time. Then she pulled back and left him, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
A year ago, on the night he agreed to assume the throne, on the plain just beyond the walls of Kentigern Castle, she had refused him in much the same way, though it had nearly killed her to do so. Tonight was different. She was different. And as she walked away from the man she had once loved more than she ever thought possible, Keziah ja Dafydd surprised herself again, this time with the direction in which her steps carried her.
* * *
He watched from a distance, waiting until the king was alone before approaching him. He was surprised to see Kearney and the archminister embrace, even more so when they kissed. Like others, he had heard rumors of Kearney’s affair with the woman, but he hadn’t known whether or not to believe them. Not long ago, Aindreas would have thought to use what he had seen as a weapon against the king, another way, perhaps, to challenge the legitimacy of his rule. But not anymore.
“You’re doing the right thing, Father.”
The duke turned at the sound of Brienne’s voice. She was beside him, her golden hair stirring in the light wind, her grey eyes luminous with the light of torches and stars. He didn’t say the obvious, that he was doing the only thing he could, and coming to it late, very nearly too late. Instead, he merely smiled at her, wishing that he could cup her cheek in his hand, or kiss her smooth brow, knowing that she existed only in his mind and was beyond his reach.
“It’s not going to get any easier, Father.”
Right. Facing Kearney again, he stepped forward into the light of the king’s fire, his hands trembling, beads of sweat running down his temples.
“My pardon, Your Majesty. May I have a word?”
The king spun around at the sound of Aindreas’s voice, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. Seeing the duke, Kearney frowned but he didn’t relax his stance.
“This isn’t a good time, Lord Kentigern. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, I’m afraid it can’t. Tomorrow might be too late.”
Kearney narrowed his eyes. “What is it you want?”
Aindreas stared at him, noting that his hand was still on his weapon. “You think I’ve come to kill you.”
“Have you?”
“Of course not!”
“You say that as if I should know it without asking. But considering the matter from my point of view, do you really think the notion that far-fetched?”
This was why he hated the man, why he hated Javan as well. The arrogance, the self-righteousness. He should have known better than to approach this imperious king.
“You’ve thought the worst of me from the day you took the throne,” Aindreas said, sneering at him. “You’ve sided with Javan from the beginning, allowing him to poison your mind against me! You give no thought at all to how we’ve suffered this past year!”
“This isn’t my fault, Aindreas! You’ve defied me at every turn, fomented rebellion throughout the land, and weakened our realm when it’s most vulnerable! I’ve given you ample opportunity to put your house in good standing once more, and you’ve refused.”
“I’m here. I marched with your swordmaster and joined him in defeating the Solkarans. I’ve fought against the empire. What more do you want?”
“Allowing you to fight with us was Gershon’s decision, and I won’t question his judgment. But neither am I ready to forgive all simply because you’ve finally upheld your duty to the throne and the realm.”
“You have no right to judge me or my house!”
“I have every right! I’m your king! And it’s about time you treated me as such!”
Aindreas nearly left then. How could he be expected to make peace with such a man? How could he possibly confess to Kearney all that he had done when the king already regarded him as a traitor? He actually turned to go, but Brienne was there, standing in his path, a hard look in her eyes.
The duke halted, closing his eyes briefly and taking a long breath. “You’re right,” he said. He turned back to Kearney. “Your Majesty.”
The king regarded him doubtfully. “Suddenly, I’m right?”
“Not suddenly. You’ve been right for some time now, about many things.”
“What about all that you just said to me, about how Javan had poisoned my mind, and I had never given any consideration to your house?”
Aindreas rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m a fool, Your Majesty. Surely you’ve reasoned that out for yourself by now.”
A wry smile touched the king’s lips. “I’ve had some inkling, yes. But I never thought I’d hear you admit it.”
“Yes, well, there’s a good deal I need to admit.”
“I don’t understand.”
Abruptly the duke’s eyes were stinging, and for a moment he feared that he might begin to weep. How had he allowed matters to progress so far? Yes, the Qirsi had deceived him, preying on his grief and his desperate need to avenge Brienne’s murder. But he had once thought of himself as a strong man, a deeply intelligent man. It seemed an eternity since he had behaved as either. He gazed past the king and saw Brienne staring back at him. She didn’t look angry anymore, or even ashamed. She just looked sad.
