Diomere's Exile

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Gregor swirled the whiskey in his glass, uncaring that it was much too early in the day for hard spirits. The scrolls lay, partially translated, on the over-sized desk in front of him. He’d woken after the dream, hard as a rock. Now here he sat, drink in hand, brooding. He could still taste her, feel the soft curves of her body. He lifted the glass and finished off his drink in one swallow. He wished for nothing more than for his dream Nadia to be the true Nadia. In reality, though, she was just like every other woman he’d ever met. She’s nothing like your mother.

He rubbed his chest, the ache in his heart, unexpected. It was true, she was nothing like his mother. The vindictive old witch would have kept at him until she’d drawn blood. Nadia retreated into silence. Maybe she fights her own demons.

His stomach churned. Would he forget the painful lesson the women in his life had taught him? The Lady de Quinones carried many secrets close to her heart. Secrets she openly kept from him. Nothing like your ex-betrothed.

Marla had seemed the perfect woman to help him rebuild the Cyrene line. Then she’d been overheard boasting about using him to get close to Prince Stefan. The day he’d gone to confront her, he’d found her in bed with her lover. Shame heated his insides. He knew that Nadia was nothing like Marla, even with her own set of secrets. He’d first sought her, not the other way around. But would these secrets make her reject him? Would he let her get away with that? He shook his head, unsure.

Gregor set his glass aside and checked the time. Crossing the room, he lifted a fresh bloom from his garden and plucked the petals from it. Opening the window, he tossed the petals into the air and watched them scatter in the breeze.

“I offer this gift in honor of Soira, goddess of the penetrating sight, of the triplet gods, Meren, Asha, and Naar, those who control the many aspects of life, and of Druj, god of death. Grant your blessings on this inferior servant that my instincts will be sharp, that I’ll succeed in keeping Prince Reis safe, and that my sword will be true should any seek him harm.”

He stepped back from the window, closing it, before turning to finish dressing while his mind went over all the different ways attackers could come at them. With the open contract on the young prince, he and his men had to be on high alert. His Prince was depending on him to keep his brother safe, and he wouldn’t let him down. He shoved daggers in his boots, more up his sleeves, and slid his sword into the scabbard at his waist.

Satisfied he was as prepared as he could be, he mounted his horse and headed up the mountain to the palace. When he arrived, ten men waited with weapons and mounts ready, the tiny gold dagger pinned to each uniform marking them as the most elite of the prince’s personal guard. Their first priority was to Prince Stefan and by extension, Prince Reis.

Gregor faced them and ten penetrating gazes locked on him. “Prince Stefan trusts us to keep his brother alive. It’s up to us not to let him down. Be vigilant. We’re the best because we’ve been trained to be the best. If attacked, protect Prince Reis first. Go after the enemy last.”

As one, they pressed their fists over their hearts and chorused, “By the code.”

Gregor led them to Prince Reis’ rooms. Once there, he nodded to the guard at the door and knocked. The Prince opened the door himself, nearly tripping over his own large feet. Gregor suppressed a sigh. Having grown nearly a foot in the last year, Prince Reis was like a newborn colt. And from the size of his hands and feet, Gregor figured the boy would grow quite a bit taller than even Gregor’s considerable height. The boy had to have gotten it from his mother’s side of the family. He looked nothing like his brother and father.

The Prince swept his black hair out of his face, his odd colored eyes narrow. “You’re late, Lord Cyrene.”

Gregor raised a single brow and made a point to look at the door, and then the scowling young manservant standing behind him. “Your safety comes first, my prince. What if I had been an assassin?”

The prince’s face flushed a soft pink. “Maro’s life means no less than my own.”

Gregor frowned. “Maro swore to put your safety before his own when he agreed to his position. He is trained to protect himself and you. You question his honor by refusing to let him do his job. If this has become a problem, then I’ll speak to Stefan about finding a replacement.”

Reis’ face paled. “I just don’t want him to be hurt or worse in my place.”

“You are a royal prince. Every guard and knight sworn to your family puts his life on the line for you every single day and night. It is our honor to do so. Would you take our honor from us all?”

Prince Reis frowned and shook his head.

The servant gave Prince Reis a reassuring smile, gently took the door from Reis’ hand, and bowed. “Welcome, Lord Cyrene. As you can no doubt see”—the servant glanced at the prince who gave him a chagrined smile—“Prince Reis is ready to be on his way.”

Prince Reis, his cheeks now a bright red, shrugged. “Thank you, Maro.”

The servant nodded and held a cloak out to the prince, who took it and joined Gregor in the hall.

They made their way out of the palace through the kitchens, into the section of the outer bailey used for unloading goods. Servants carried bags of stale bread and partially eaten fruit as well as pails of the picked over carcasses of boar and fowl left from the last evening’s dinner. They loaded the leavings, meant for Volos’ poor, into a covered wagon. Gregor waved his men toward their horses and followed the prince toward a hunch-backed servant, who was securing the wagon’s cloth covering, his long beard thrown over his shoulder like the tail end of a gray scarf.

“Good morn to you, Doron. Are we all set?” the prince asked.

The old man turned to his Prince with a wide smile. “Indeed we are, my prince.” The man’s smile faltered as he noticed Gregor standing behind the prince .

Prince Reis gestured toward Gregor. “Lord Cyrene, you’ve met my father’s gardener, Mr. Doron, yes?”

Gregor shook his head. “Not formally, no. Asha’s blessing on you, Mr. Doron. Do you often accompany Prince Reis into Volos?”

“Actually, Doron started all of this,” the prince said. “I join him on the seventh day with fresh food I acquire with my own allowance.”

The older man flushed at the prince’s mention of his good deeds. “Just didn’t seem right to do nothing when I have it so good here in the palace. Ain’t nothing to go on about.”

Gregor suppressed a smile at the old man’s discomfort. “Thinking of someone other than yourself is indeed commendable, Mr. Doron. I know others who would gladly contribute the leavings of their own table toward your cause should you wish to accept it.”

The gardener’s face was all wrinkles and creases as he smiled widely at Gregor. “I thank you for all of Volos’ hungry, my lord.”

Gregor nodded and gestured toward his men and their waiting horses. “Shall we, my prince?”

After the gardener settled into the wagon with the reins in his hands, the prince , with Gregor and his men surrounding him, headed down the mountain into Volos. As they passed the Emerald Mermaid Inn, Gregor looked for a glimpse of Nadia, then scowled. Focus on keeping the boy alive.

They passed the busy market square with stalls covered in brightly covered awnings where vendors called out, waving plump fruits, silk scarves in the season’s popular colors, and various other wares to catch the attention of those passing by. A man dressed in a bright array of mismatched clothing threw a selection of daggers into the air while kicking his pointy-toed shoes to the beat of the music being played by a more somberly dressed minstrel. The crowd clapped around them, a few coins landing at the pair’s feet. The music stopped, and the crowd wandered away as Prince Reis passed.

The fool, his face painted white with a wide smile painted in red around his mouth, started toward the prince, his daggers once again spinning into the air. “Your highness, please allow us the pleasure of entertaining you for a few moments.”

Gregor gave the man a hard look, shaking his head and maneuvering the horse into the smiling man’s path. “Not today, fool.”

Prince Reis frowned at Gregor, then gave the man a regretful smile. “Perhaps another day, kind sir. We’ve food to deliver to the hungry people of Volos.”

The fool bowed. “May you be showered by Asha’s blessings, my prince.”

Prince Reis waved, and they continued past. As they traveled closer to the harbor, the homes became smaller and the streets more cramped. They turned onto a narrow road lined with homes that became less tidy the farther they traveled from the main avenue. A dirty square with a carved stone chalice in the center sat surrounded by unkempt homes, the thick smell of fish, and the sewage that flowed along the street to the harbor. Weeds pushed between the square’s stone pavers, tripping the children running among a group of men and women in patched clothing, their laughter ringing off the stones. The women smiled at the young Prince, and the men nodded as Prince Reis’ and his guard dismounted near the stone chalice.

When Mr. Doron pulled up in the wagon, voices rang out. “Good morn to you, Mr. Doron.” The old man waved and smiled as the voices continued. “Asha’s blessings on you, Mr. Doron.”

A group of boys near the prince’s age ventured near Gregor’s men, and a stocky boy in front called out to the prince. “Good morn to you, Prince Reis. Any luck with your water experiments?”

A wide smile spread across the prince’s face. “Sun shine on you, Tereus.” Reis swung down from his horse, Gregor right behind him, and stepped toward the boy. “Master Himera said—”

Gregor placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder as two of his men moved to push the group of boys back. “I apologize, my prince, but I must remind you of the reason for the presence of myself and my men and ask that you allow me to make sure none are armed before they’re allowed to approach you.”

Prince Reis flushed as Gregor pulled him farther away from his friends. Jaw clenched, the prince jerked from Gregor’s hold. “That’s unnecessary, Lord Cyrene. Tereus is my friend and wouldn’t harm me.”

Silence descended on the square as all eyes turned toward the prince. Gregor frowned, and silently cursed himself for embarrassing the boy before his friends. The prince shoved past the guards and approached the group of boys watching curiously.

Gregor raised his voice. “Someone wants you dead, my prince.” Gasps came from several of the commoners. Gregor motioned for his men to surround the group of boys and moved up behind his charge, scanning the group of boys once again too close to the prince. Gregor lowered his voice. “Your brother desires you remain alive. I’m afraid that no one, not even a trusted friend, can be allowed near you without going through myself or one of my men.”

The prince turned, his mismatched eyes narrow. “Stefan didn’t mean for you to accost my friends, Lord Commander Cyrene.”

Gregor opened his mouth to reply, but motion over the prince’s shoulder caught his attention. He stepped forward and shoved Reis to the side. The ring of swords being drawn from their sheaths echoed behind him as his men surrounded the prince. The sharp steel of a dagger, held by one of the boys who’d been lurking at the back of the group, slid across Gregor’s lower abdomen, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Gregor clenched his jaw and grabbed the hand holding the weapon, stopping it from doing any more damage. The assailant’s satisfied sneer turned to dismay when he realized he’d missed the prince. The boy lurched back, twisting his arm and jerking down to break Gregor’s hold. Gregor lunged forward as the boy darted away, his fingers hooking into the loose pants around the urchin’s ankle.

“Areisteo,” Nadia called, pulling Gregor’s attention from the would-be assassin.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Nadia, her gaze locked on the prince, while his men urged the boy back onto his horse. Before he could think more about her odd behavior, a tearing sound brought his attention back to the urchin who’d attempted to kill Prince Reis. The boy jerked his leg, and the thin fabric of his pants tore, leaving Gregor holding nothing but a dirty rag. The boy shoved through the crowd, past Nadia’s friend, Pell, who reached for him and missed.

Trusting that his men would get Prince Reis back to the palace safely, Gregor chased the assailant down the narrow street toward the harbor. The boy jumped over a pile of stacked crates and dodged between fishermen hauling their catch to the market from the docks. Ignoring the wound burning across his stomach, Gregor pushed himself to go faster. He vaulted over the crates and stumbled. The urchin dodged around a corner.

Cursing, he followed. As he came around the corner, he glimpsed the boy running down one arm of the piers which jutted out into the harbor like fingers. Then, with a glance back at Gregor, he hopped from tightly packed small fishing vessel to dock again and again until he reached the furthest arm of the piers. He gave Gregor a jaunty wave, then disappeared behind a large ship.

Sweat poured from Gregor’s brow into his eyes as he determinedly followed along the shore until he came to the arm of the pier where the boy vanished. He slowed, chest heaving, and rubbed at the burning cut on his stomach. Turning onto the last arm of the pier, he followed it toward the ship. He scanned the water, looking for a swimmer. Seeing no one, he peered into the shadows. Rows of barrels, waiting to be loaded, provided several places to hide. Seeing the sailors on the ship’s deck going about their business undisturbed, he assumed the boy hadn’t boarded and passed the ship’s gangplank to move to the end of the pier, looking carefully between each row of barrels.

A hiss of air was his only warning as something hard came down on his head and pain exploded behind his eyes. Gregor pitched forward over the edge of the pier and plunged into the cold water. Before he could do more than kick for the surface, the current caught him and spun him deeper into the water and out to sea. His lungs burned as he tried to hold a breath he hadn’t had time to take. He kicked harder, trying to free himself from the fast moving current, but his arms wouldn’t obey his command. Black spots danced before his eyes as he fought panic. Just as the black spots grew to cover his vision, slender arms wrapped around him and pulled him toward the surface.

****

Nadia motioned Pell and Jon down a street that circled around to the far side of the docks while she and Sarna followed Gregor. They’d been spread around the outside of the square when her nephew’s retinue had arrived with the wagon of food. She had no doubt that Prince Reis, the younger version of Diomere’s King Delmar, was her lost nephew. As soon as the assailant had lunged toward her nephew, they’d closed in on the group of boys, but somehow the would-be-assassin had managed to slip between Pell and Jon. Nadia ground her teeth and picked up her pace. She burst from between two buildings in time to see Gregor dart down the farthest arm of the pier. Jon and Pell appeared from another street and joined them.

“Wait at the end of the closest piers.” Jon and Pell split, each heading toward the two closest pier arms.

She ran across the wood planks, Sarna on her heels. They entered the ship’s shadows just as Gregor reached the end. The assailant jumped from behind one of the barrels, a chunk of driftwood held over his head, and swung it toward Gregor’s head.

“Gregor!”

The hollow thump of wood hitting skull made her cringe. Gregor fell forward with a splash and disappeared into the murky water. Nadia’s heart stuttered.

The boy lowered the wood and swung around, brandishing the wood like a club. She lunged toward him, kicking his legs out from under him before he could swing the chunk of wood at her. Sarna jumped on top of the boy and knocked his head against the pier. Sailors, hearing the commotion, moved to stare over the side of the ship.

Nadia glanced at Sarna as she pulled her boots off, then her pants. “Take my clothes and meet me on that deserted pier between those small fishing boats.”

Sarna glanced up at the whistling sailors with a scowl and nodded. “I’ll make sure this one makes it to Lord Cyrene’s men.”

Nadia turned away and jumped into the chilly water. She let the current sweep her out into the ocean until she was out of sight of the sailors. Reaching for her a’mi, she changed into her Mer form. She sucked water into her mouth and felt it rush through the gills at her neck, filling her with a fresh supply of oxygen. She burst forward with a powerful thrust of her scaled tail, speeding along with the current, until Gregor’s motionless body materialized in the murky water. Wrapping her arms around his chest, she pulled him toward the surface.

Nadia swam as fast as she could to the section of pier where Sarna and Jon waited. Using her glamour to keep from being seen in her Mer form, she swam just under the surface, one arm tight around Gregor’s still chest. When she reached the dock, she focused on her a’mi, allowing Sarna and Jon to see them. Sarna’s eyes widened, filling with awe before she got hold of herself and forced her attention to the unconscious Gregor.

“Take his arm,” she said as she struggled to push his heavy body from the water.

Sarna grabbed Gregor’s arms while Jon reached for his feet. Another pulse of her a’mi and Nadia had two human legs once again. She climbed up onto the dock while Jon began to pump the water from Gregor’s lungs, pulled on her pants, and dropped the glamour completely.

Dropping to her knees at Gregor’s side, she covered Gregor’s cold lips with her own and blew air into his lungs. “Come on, Gregor. Breathe.”

Jon pressed on his chest again, and she blew air into his lungs twice more before he started to cough up the sea water he’d swallowed.

She slumped forward. “Thank the gods.”

Gregor’s eyes fluttered open, and he grimaced. Boots pounded down the pier, and she looked up to see a group of Gregor’s soldiers running toward them.

The group reached her, and the leading soldier bent to check that Gregor was breathing. “What happened?”

“I saw a boy hit him over the head and push him into the sea over there,” she said, pointing to the pier which stretched furthest out into the harbor. “I jumped in to pull him out before he drowned.”

“Nadia,” Gregor murmured.

Nadia jerked her attention back to Gregor. “When you said you planned to complicate my life, Lord Cyrene, I didn’t know you’d also scare about ten years off me.”

“You were worried,” he slurred.

“Oh, stand up already.”

His brow furrowed. “Can’t move.”

A knot formed in her stomach. “Pain?”

“Stomach,” he said, his words more sigh then whisper as his eyes drifted shut.

“Open those gorgeous eyes, Gregor.” Nadia shook his shoulder, fighting the panic threatening to choke her.

His lashes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused. The knot in her stomach grew bigger as she lifted his soggy shirt away from his skin.

“Gods-cursed assassin,” the soldier, now kneeling next to her, muttered.

Nadia inhaled as she inspected the angry red cut oozing a dark yellow puss.

She flicked a glance at the soldier. “Do you have the knife?” The man nodded at one of the other soldiers who pulled it from his belt. “I’m taking him to my sister.” She shook her head as the soldier opened his mouth to protest. “You know as well as I do that this is probably poison. My sister is a gifted healer, personally assigned to the king and queen of Diomere, and right now she’s staying at the Emerald Mermaid, which is much closer than the palace.”

“Trust Lady Nadia, Captain,” Gregor slurred.

The soldier nodded slowly. “It will be as you say, Commander.”

“Let’s move,” she ordered and stepped back as a soldier slipped under each of Gregor’s arms.

Gregor’s head fell forward. Nadia gestured for Sarna to lead the way, while she walked backward in front of Gregor.

She reached up and lifted his chin, patting his cheek until he cracked his eyes open. “Talk to me, Gregor.”

“I’ve dreamed”—he wheezed—“of you. You”—he gasped for more air—“haunt me.”

Nadia moved his hair out of his face, doing her best to avoid the curious stares of the soldiers. “Do I?”

He moved his lips, and she bent closer. “What?”

“My beautiful mermaid.” He sighed and passed out.

Nadia’s heart stopped. She met the Captain’s confused stare, then bent and grabbed Gregor’s legs. “We have to hurry.”