Tranquility's Grief Page 21

  Arrago stared at him. “Why?”

  “To protect my daughters and lands.”

  Arrago shook his head and said, “I don’t understand.”

  “To align himself with your rebellion,” Bethany explained, her voice tight, “Sir Eli would have to abandon his daughters and property. Daniel would take both for his own pleasure. If Sir Eli is allowed to report back to Daniel, he will be betraying his son and you, Arrago.”

  Arrago slammed his hands down on the table and said, “What in Apexia’s name do you want me to do, Bethany? Kill him?”

  “Yes,” Sir Eli answered very quietly.

  Arrago turned to stare at his friend. Tears glistened in Edmund’s eyes, but he spoke with a strong voice. “Kill father as a spy and an assassin. Send his head back to Daniel. Tell him we’ll do the same to Her Grace if he pushes.”

  “Kill Sir Eli?” Arrago repeated. He shook his head. “No. No, I will not kill your father!”

  “Then Arrago,” Sir Eli said, standing, “I will kill you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Viper will rejoice when the blood of the innocent flows. The Viper’s glory will grow in the dark corners of men’s hearts.

  -Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  Wave after wave of nausea filled Arrago as he paced up and down the corridors. Kill Sir Eli! It was as though he was the only person left with any sense. Bethany, Edmund, even Sir Eli all wanted this. Arrago took deep breaths and tried very hard not to puke on the floorboards. He’d already gagged up most of his supper in his chamberpot; he might not have enough left in him, but he did not want to take the chance.

  He had not known Sir Eli for long, but he’d been good to Arrago when kindness had counted the most. Sir Eli had taken Arrago into his home, fed him, paid him, and protected him. A good man should not have to lose his life because of politics.

  “It’s time.”

  Arrago shot Bethany a hard look, expecting coldness in her eyes. He didn’t find it. Instead, he saw her unwavering resolve and commitment. She accepted Sir Eli’s sacrifice and, what’s more, seemed to understand it. Her gaze met his and, though her features did not soften, her voice did.

  “We have to do it now. Otherwise, his sacrifice will be for nothing. He is giving his life for your cause.”

  Arrago closed his eyes and bile burned its way up his throat. He gulped back down both the vomit and the image of Sir Eli’s blood that would soon become fodder for Arrago’s nightmares. “I know.”

  “I can do it, if you want,” Bethany said in that same calm, unyielding tone. “I won’t think less of you, either. I’ve executed too many men to count. I can do it again.”

  “No,” he said sharply and the word surprised him. “I will do it.”

  As they came from his lips, he knew his hand should be the one to end Sir Eli, and not Bethany. She might have executed plenty before, but he was going to be a king, providing he could stay alive. There would be many executions in his future.

  “Are you certain?”

  He reached out and touched her arm. She did not flinch away, as if she understood how much he needed human contact. “Eli Greyfeather is about to give his life to save his family’s honor. The least I can do is help give it to him.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Nothing,” he said and walked down the stairs into the main hall.

  Sir Eli was face-down on the table, an empty mug next to him. Bethany had insisted on giving Sir Eli poison to help dull what was about to come. At first, he didn’t understand Bethany’s reasoning, but now, here at the end, he did. It was her brand of mercy. Though she was unyielding in the task, she was not without compassion. Death was probably already near for Sir Eli. If nothing else, the pain would be less for him.

  Arrago stared at Sir Eli’s limp form and amended, “I may need help getting him out there.”

  Bethany inclined her head. “Sir Eli, can you hear me?”

  Sir Eli groaned something intelligible.

  Bethany patted his shoulder and stepped over to the wall to pick a bottle off the shelf. She took several long guzzles and handed the bottle to Arrago.

  He stared at the bottle. He did not want to drown his sorrows. He should be alert, feeling the full shame of his actions.

  “Arrago, this will go easier on your nerves if you dull them,” she said and thrust the bottle at him. “Trust me.”

  He accepted it and drank, regurgitating as he thought about killing the man who had taken him in when no one else would. He put the bottle down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How do I do this?” It embarrassed him how weak he sounded.

  Bethany squared her shoulders and said, “He is here because of Daniel. Take that anger out on him.” And then Bethany grabbed Sir Eli by the back of the neck and slammed his face on the table and screamed, “Traitor!”

  Arrago’s stomach heaved and tears welled in his eyes. His muscles shook and he clenched his fists to prevent him from hitting Bethany to stop her. He closed his eyes as she slammed Sir Eli’s head against the table, screaming a string of curses at him.

  “Stop,” Arrago whispered. “Stop it.”

  Bethany shot him a look of annoyance. “He needs to come out of this building bloody or else they are not going to believe that we beat the truth from him. They will talk and, eventually, someone, somewhere, will get word back to Daniel that Eli betrayed him. If they sent him, they sent others. When that happens, Edmund’s family will lose everything.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice ragged. “Torture, though.”

  “Arrago, he can’t feel anything right now. Give him the death his family needs. You owe him that much.”

  Anger flared up within him, but shame quickly replaced it. He stared down at Sir Eli’s still form, the occasional moan escaping his lips. Arrago closed his eyes and grabbed the bottle of brandy he’s just drunk and smashed the neck on the edge of the table.

  “Apexia, forgive me,” he whispered and slashed Sir Eli’s face. Blood pooled and dripped down his mentor’s face. His friend’s father. A man he respected and who he was about to murder. Tears streamed down Arrago’s face, but he hit Sir Eli again. He closed his eyes, trying to control his shaking limbs.

  “This is not how I wanted to win the war.”

  “I know,” Bethany said and she kicked Sir Eli’s chair over. Moans escaped Sir Eli and she kicked his ribs.

  Arrago stared down at Sir Eli’s immobile body, blood dripping from his face. Rage bubbled inside him. He hated Daniel for putting him into this position. He hated him for coming here. And, Apexia forgive him, he hated Apexia herself for turning him into a murderer.

  “Let’s do it before I change my mind,” Arrago growled.

  “Wipe your face,” Bethany ordered, in that hard, cold voice she had.

  He glared at her. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  She licked her lips and said, softer, “The tears left streaks on your face.”

  “Oh,” he said and rubbed his face with his tunic sleeve. His stomach churned once, but he bent down and said, “Sir Eli, please forgive me.”

  Sir Eli made no reply beyond a groan of pain. Blood trickled from his ear where Bethany had slammed his head to the table.

  He grabbed the back of Sir Eli’s jacket. The old man was heavy and he motioned for Bethany to help him. She did, without a blink. Cold as ice. Why did they call her Fire Tits? It should have been the ice goddess. No one was as cold as her.

  But, as she bent down to grab him, Arrago heard her whisper in Sir Eli’s ear, “I will protect your family with all that I have.”

  Arrago stared at her, but she ignored him. Her features hardened, determined. She didn’t like this, either, and yet she could be a man about it. So would he. Sir Eli’s sacrifice was needed. He had to send a message to Daniel and all of the nobles that he was to be taken seriously. What better than to return the head of his mentor?

  Arrago’s stomach churned at that thought. He reached do
wn, deep down, and found the rage of the situation. He found the hatred of Magic boiling inside him. Magic had brought this fate upon them all. Without that twisted, mangled excuse for Power, Daniel would not have needed to call the Magi. Sir Eli would have not needed to put down his life.

  Sir Eli was a hero. One day, Arrago would see that he would be honored. Today, however…Today, Arrago needed to be the hero. He needed to stand up against tyranny and Magic and evil. Today, Arrago would crush anyone who stood in his way. Tomorrow, he would weep at what he’d done. Today, he would crush his enemies.

  So, he took a long, deep breath and bellowed, “Fucking traitor!”

  Arrago dragged Sir Eli’s limp form across the dirt floor and Bethany’s boot landed on the door, flinging it open. Around the cottage stood citizens and soldiers, Knights and rebels, their eyes wide with fright. Outside of Edmund and Bethany’s cadre, no one knew the plan. He had to be convincing. He had to show the rage of betrayal.

  Arrago dug deeper and found the contempt he held for King Daniel. Daniel was a pompous, arrogant fool who took the gifts his father had left him and trampled them, all for the sake of more power and glory. He’d turned on Apexia herself and opened the floodgates for Magi to enter their homeland. He’d betrayed them all.

  “How dare you come here and spy on me!” Arrago shouted, gripping his best friend’s father tighter. Bethany lost her grip, unable to keep up with Arrago. He dragged the limp body to the middle of town, to where Edmund stood trembling, tears streaming down his face. Her Grace Celeste stood next to him.

  “This is what happens when you ally with Daniel!” Arrago bellowed and kicked Sir Eli in the face. A wet snap came and blood gushed from Sir Eli’s nose. No sound came from Sir Eli now; he hadn’t even felt it.

  Arrago grabbed the back of his head, gripping a handful of hair. He slid a knife from his belt. Arrago’s hands shook, but he leaned down to whisper, “I’m sorry, my friend,” and slit Sir Eli’s throat. Blood sprayed, covering Arrago’s hand and forearm. Some of it splattered on Edmund’s boots, who did not flinch. He merely closed his eyes and wept silently.

  Arrago’s vision blurred as he dropped Sir Eli’s draining body to the ground. He rubbed his eyes, hoping no one saw the tears welling up. He was a murderer. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and struggled against the heaving.

  What have I done?

  ****

  Bethany let out a sigh of relief. It was over. Sir Eli’s innocent blood seeped into the dirty snow, mixing in with muddy boot prints and horse piss. She felt nothing; she’d seen enough unfair executions to understand the politics behind them. At least he was barely alive when it happened. He’d been given as much mercy as could be allowed.

  She watched Arrago standing over Sir Eli’s corpse—the glassy eyes said it was a corpse now. Blood dripped from the dagger in his hands. Tears streamed down her former lover’s face. Bethany had to gulp down the urge to hold him. Poor Arrago; he was too good, too soft for this kind of work. He should have let her do it.

  She knew why he didn’t and her respect for him grew. He would not push off the dirty work on to her shoulders. For whatever happened between them, whatever was their future, Arrago would never push off his duty on anyone, let alone the woman he once loved. She knew him well enough for that.

  Bethany could no longer offer him the comfort of her embrace, but she had to do something. Arrago just stood there, shaking and silently crying. She cleared her throat and said, “All right, people. Get back to your work.”

  She pointed at Celeste, who stood next to a stunned Edmund. “Your Grace?”

  The woman looked up, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “Take Edmund, please. I’ll look after this.”

  Celeste inclined her head and placed her hand on Edmund’s back, just enough to push him along. She stopped next to Bethany and leaned forward to whisper, “Will you give Sir Eli a proper burial?”

  Bethany gave one nod of her head and Celeste mouthed her thanks.

  “Jackson?”

  The stout man stepped out of the dispersing crowd. “Here, Lady Bethany.”

  She pulled him to one side and whispered, “Wrap up his corpse and spread the rumor that it is to be disposed in the woods. You, Erem, and another Knight of Erem’s choice escort Edmund to the spot and bury him in whatever manner he requests.” Bethany looked at the body. “It’s the least we can do for him.”

  Jackson nodded and motioned for two regulars to fetch him blankets.

  “Wait,” she said, grabbing his forearm. She licked her lips. “Let Edmund say goodbye, and then arrange to send a messenger with Sir Eli’s head to Daniel.”

  Jackson blinked. “You’re joking?”

  Bethany cocked an eyebrow.

  “All right. I’ll see to it.” Jackson lifted his hands in surrender. As he walked away, Bethany heard him mutter, “Fucking cold bitch.”

  Yes, she was and would need to be for a bit yet. So much blood. She stepped over to Arrago and stood next to him. “Hand me the knife.”

  Arrago didn’t look up from the body. She reached over and tugged the knife from his hands, pulling on the blade. It dug into the leather of her gloves, but didn’t cut through. She wiped the blade against her leather chaps and handed it back to him. “Put it away.”

  He stared at the dagger, then back at Sir Eli. “I killed him.”

  Bethany chewed on her lip, a physical gesture to control her yelling at him. Arrago had to move. He needed to appear strong, not weak. Crying in public would make him weak.

  “He trusted me and I killed him,” Arrago said, his voice hushed. Silent tears trickled down his face.

  “Arrago, you need to get off the street. I’ll look after the corpse.”

  “Corpse,” he sneered. “Don’t you have any feeling?”

  Bethany eyed the crowd around them, moving too slowly for her tastes. They wanted to hear what was passing between them. She leaned forward and whispered, “Daniel has ears everywhere. You have no idea who might be passing information back. If they know you are weak, they will destroy everything you’ve fought for.” Bethany looked back down at the body. “They will destroy what he fought for.”

  Arrago snapped his gaze up to meet hers. She could see the anger and grief warring on his face. He wanted to scream at her, but right now he needed to move and grieve in private. “It must be easy for you, having no heart.”

  Bethany closed her eyes. “Arrago…”

  “Tell me, how long did it take you to get over the Temple? Days? Hours? Have you seen so many bodies, Bethany, that they don’t even bother you anymore?”

  Bethany ignored the jab. Instead, she motioned for Kiner. “Take him back. Get ‘em drunk.”

  Annoyance spread across Kiner’s face. “Me?”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I have to contain this.” She lowered her voice, so that only he could hear. “And you are the best person to talk to Arrago about guilt after executions.”

  Kiner looked down. “Yes. I suppose I am.” He patted Arrago’s shoulder and motioned with his head. “Come. I have a bottle with your name on it.”

  Arrago stepped away from the bleeding corpse, and after shooting Bethany an angry look, walked off with Kiner, never sheathing the knife he’d used to kill his mentor.

  Bethany let out a breath. She’d let him know how long it took when she finally recovered.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  There will be comfort. There will be peace. It will come with a price, paid in its weight in tears.

  -Prophecy of the Diamond, First Tablet

  Night had settled by the time Bethany made it back into the temple. The senior Knights, plus Lendra, sat around the hearth, whispering. They stopped speaking when she walked in, heavy eyes all on her.

  She stomped the snow off her boots and tugged off her blood-splattered cloak, dumping it in a heap on the floor near several other bundles of filthy clothing for the laundresses. “How is he?” she asked, approaching the fire.


  “He won’t let anyone talk to him,” Eve answered.

  “I thought I told you to look after him,” Bethany said, looking at Kiner.

  Kiner shrugged. “Once the liquor kicked in, he threatened to slit my throat.”

  Bethany pulled off her helmet and sat it down on the table. Brown splatters still stained the wood. She’d need to get someone to scrub that out. “Why are all of you down here?”

  “I can’t sleep,” Lendra whispered. “Jovan sent a hot bath up to Arrago, but he wouldn’t answer the door for the servants, so I went up. He opened the door to let us in and let the servants fill the bath. He yelled at me when they finished.” She pouted at that. “Sacred wind, I can’t imagine what he’s going through.”

  Eve put an arm around Lendra and said, “I know how he feels and it is not a good feeling.”

  Jovan tipped back a bottle. “No, it is not.”

  Bethany let out a deep breath and said, “I guess that means I should go talk to him.”

  Jovan shrugged a shoulder. “Think you can do it without making things worse?”

  “Asshole,” Bethany muttered under her breath as she walked up the stairs. It didn’t matter what had happened between her and Arrago; he was hurting and she could find a few drams of compassion for a friend.

  She knocked on Arrago’s door and ignored the crushing sensation of empathy in her chest. Poor Arrago. She knew a little how he felt.

  “Fuck off,” Arrago shouted back, his words thick and slurred. “Come in here and I’ll kill you.”

  She pulled the rope and opened the door. It took Bethany’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkened room. Arrago slumped in a chair in front of his fire, a blanket wrapped around his torso, though it failed to cover most of his naked legs. The fire roared, however, and the heat felt good after being outside in the snow and cold for so long. In the corner was a small tub, enough for a person to sit upright in.

  “I told you to fuck off,” Arrago snarled and turned to look at her. His expression soured. “Oh, it’s you.”