Royal Exile. Fiona McIntosh

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Royal Exile - Fiona McIntosh


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sod it! I definitely don’t have it. But where does the power come from?’

      Gavriel shrugged. ‘Search me. Born with it, I guess. I learned today that the first Valisar king — Cormoron — who was supposedly bristling with this power — made a blood oath on the Stone of Truth at Lackmarin that he and no other Valisar king would ever be able to use their power against their own.’

      ‘Does that mean family?’

      ‘I think it extends to his people.’

      ‘Go on, this is good,’ Leo said, leaping onto a low wall and frowning as he listened, balancing alongside Gavriel.

      ‘When his blood was spilled upon the stone it is said that a serpent appeared and drank the blood. It told Cormoron that his blood oath was accepted and the magic would remain true to the Valisars and their heirs would be impervious to its power.’

      They’d reached the stairs that led to the royal apartments. Leo touched the carved pattern in the stonework that was a familiar design throughout Brighthelm. ‘Is that why we have a serpent alongside the winged lion in our heraldry?’

      ‘That is precisely why. It was incorporated by Cormoron in a proclamation that the serpent would join the winged lion on the family crest.’

      ‘Did the serpent say anything else to the first king?’

      Gavriel smiled. ‘I don’t know, majesty, I wasn’t there,’ he admitted, ending their conversation.

      He saw how Leo, while making his way up to his private rooms, acknowledged various servants who were passing them — one carrying linen, another with an armload of tallow candles, and still another with a basin of water. Even though the crown prince said nothing, he found a smile or a nod to let that person know he noticed them. It was a small gesture and yet its consequences were far rippling. For Leo to have the presence of mind already to look beyond his own world and his own needs, to remember that others made his life so easy, boded well for him as future king … if Gavriel could keep him alive that long.

      ‘No one seems scared of Loethar,’ Leo admitted, echoing Gavriel’s thoughts.

      ‘That’s because we’ve never given them reason to be … until now. Be assured, majesty, the panic will hit soon enough. I think we’ve been wrong to ignore the threat but my opinion is worth little.’

      ‘Not to me,’ Leo said and then froze as one of the servants appeared, walking so briskly she was bringing behind her a draught.

      ‘Prince Leo,’ she said, nodding her head, ‘Morkom has been looking for you everywhere.’ Her tone was filled with accusation.

      Gavriel saw Leo’s eyes narrow. ‘And he can continue to look, Genrie,’ the prince said coolly. ‘He is, after all, a servant. One I appreciate and like very much but a servant all the same … just like you.’

      Genrie bristled and Gavriel found her all the more alluring for her pursed lips and frostiness. The fact was Genrie was efficient, keen at her job, and liked by all the senior people in the palace because she was discreet and pragmatic. But she had an abrupt, at times superior manner that he understood would certainly rub the youthful prince the wrong way. ‘Er, his majesty is late because of me, Genrie,’ he chimed in. ‘Forgive me. He’s here now and well aware that he is due for supper shortly with the queen. Who are you having supper with? Perhaps I could —’

      ‘Master De Vis,’ she began, her tone wintry, ‘I was expressly sent by the queen to find his majesty and I —’

      ‘And he is found.’ Leo cut across her words with a sardonic smile. ‘Thank you.’

      It was a dismissal and she had no option but to curtsey and move on, but not without throwing a glare at Gavriel.

      Gavriel sighed. ‘Now she’ll never let me feel her pert —’

      ‘Ah, the kitchens have sent up some berry liquor,’ the prince said, ignoring his friend’s moans as they entered his suite. ‘Want some?’

      ‘No, majesty, but you go ahead.’

      Leo gave him a look of disdain. ‘Gav, it sounds to me like we’re going to be together for a while.’

      ‘I should be honest and tell you that I’ve been instructed by your father and my father not to leave your side. We’re as good as glued together from hereon.’

      That caught the prince’s attention. He gawped at Gavriel. ‘You jest.’

      Gavriel shook his head. ‘New rules. You now have a full-time champion.’

      ‘What about Piven?’

      ‘He has his nurserymaids. You need a man!’ Gavriel said the last with a flourish, flexing the muscles in his upper arm in a light attempt at humour he didn’t feel.

      The boy gave a low whistle. ‘In that case can we drop the majesty title? It makes me feel awkward. You and Corb never used to call me that. Your doing it now makes me feel like my father.’ He tipped water into the small measure of dark syrup he had poured into a goblet.

      ‘In front of others I must show respect, you know that.’

      Leo drank the contents of the goblet, giving a sound of pleasure as he swallowed the last mouthful. ‘Fine, but when we’re alone I want to be just Leo or dunderhead to you as I’ve always been.’ He pushed back the fringe of his sandy-coloured hair. ‘So is that all you know about the Valisar magic?’

      Gavriel thought he’d got away too easily on the previous conversation. ‘I know that it’s whispered about as the Valisar Enchantment. Your father told me only today in fact that it’s the magic that kills the females of his line. Whether they die in the womb, at birth or beyond it, none has survived more than an hour or so.’

      ‘Why? The magic is too powerful for them?’

      ‘Seems so.’

      ‘Or perhaps it chooses only the boys to live.’

      ‘Yes, more likely.’

      ‘My poor sister,’ Leo mused. ‘I’d like to have taught her how to shoot a catapult. Piven just can’t get it.’

      ‘Even if she had survived, Leo, I wonder whether your father could have risked her being found by Loethar.’

      The boy looked up, surprised. ‘You mean he’s pleased she’s dead?’

      ‘No,’ Gavriel hurried to say. ‘But I think I sensed that he felt relief that she could not be hurt by the barbarian.’

      ‘But why couldn’t my father have protected us all if she’d lived?’

      Gavriel shrugged. He too wasn’t sure about this. ‘I imagine because a baby is dangerous. It can give you away with a whimper if you’re hiding; it needs its mother and the kind of care that if we were on the run we couldn’t give. I think your sister’s death released your father from having to make that decision,’ he said, hating the lie as it treacherously left his lips. ‘I’m calling Morkom for your bath.’

      ‘But how is my father going to protect my little brother?’

      ‘I’m not sure. I’m not privy to that,’ Gavriel replied, utterly sure now that Piven would be ignored and left to Loethar’s discretion. No one wanted another child’s blood on his hands by killing Piven to save him from the barbarian.

      ‘I shall speak to him about Piven. Where is the king, do you know?’

      ‘I imagine he’s at the barracks. Our army is going to be facing the marauders soon. He’s probably doing his best to ensure their spirits are high, and their courage.’

      ‘What about ours?’

      ‘We’ll have to help each other.’ The words sounded prophetic as he said them. ‘And I think we have to get used to it.’

      Loethar licked


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