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The Queen has suffereda sleepless night, churning over her decision to expel Romen Koreldy. Valentyna has measured the dark hours by listening to the muted noises of the guard changing. The only other distraction was the distant, infrequent howl of a dog—or was it a wolf? She wondered if itwas caught in one of the traps laid by poachers ... or morewhimsically she imagined it had lost its mate and was ventingits despair.
She understood such things, for the sorrowful cry onlyserved as an echo of her own loneliness.
Valentyna asked herself yet again if she could have hungon to the man she loved and still appeased an angry king? Aking, she added, with more than enough fighting power tooverwhelm Briavel. The answer, whichever way she approachedthe problem, was no.
"Damn duty!" she murmured into her coverlets. Shepunched the feather pillow that brought no comfort this night.
To add to the misery, a vision of Fynch haunted her. How he had looked at her she would never forget. He too hadgrown to love Romen, despite his misgivings about the man.She and her young friend had shared so much in the shorttime they had known each other. But all of that closeness wasshattered now. Fynch was avoiding her because she had sodeliberately distanced herself from Romen and ordered himexpelled from Briavel.
She had cast aside a man she loved over Celimus—a manthey all hated. A child, not familiar with the way of politicsand diplomacy, would believe her actions made no sense. Butthis was no ordinary child. Fynch was special in his serious,deep-thinking manner. He understood all too well, but thatdid not mean he felt any comfort in his understanding.
She did not want to lose his companionship, but it seemedthe day just gone had risen solely to bring loss to her life.
King Celimus, she realized, kicking off her blankets withirritation, would probably be close to the border by now, possiblyeven crossing into Morgravia. She had no doubt spieswould keep him updated on Briavel's events, and her standoffwith Koreldy would be high on the list of missives. It suddenlyoccurred to her that the King might have Romentracked down upon hearing this news. Surely Romen wouldbe cautious? He had been warned that to set foot into Morgraviawas to risk certain execution. Failing his own goodsense, she trusted that her own Commander Liryk wouldcounsel Romen. Hopefully they had ridden through the nightand would be headed north, back to where he had come from.
"Where Cailech, King of the Mountains, awaits him," shewhispered sorrowfully.
The last time Valentyna had cried passionately was overher father and the time before that when she had fallen froma horse a decade ago. She considered herself resilient, butsilent, heavy tears won now as she accepted the enormity ofher orders. Romen had nowhere to go. Briavel representedsafety. Beyond its borders to the north and west, people wanted to kill him. The south offered only ocean, no comfort.To the east, only fear in the little-known Wild. Fynch knewit too. That was the reason for the accusation in that chillingfinal glance he had given her.
It spoke of betrayed friendships.
And he was right. What had Romen been thinking duringthat swordfight! It was clear that he had meant to kill Celimus,and then where but in intense danger would that haveleft Briavel?
Romen knew how precarious her predicament had been.What had been his intention? She had not had a chance toconsider it, in truth. She had not had the luxury of opportunityto think it through; she had been forced to react, andswiftly, in the only way that a monarch in her situation couldhave done. She knew her decision was politically correct, butthis reassurance was cold comfort.
Her heart ached. She loved Romen and she had sent himaway . . . not just away in fact, for expulsion had more seriousimplications. Briavel no longer recognized him as friend.Romen Koreldy would not be permitted to set so much as atoe inside Briavel. If recognized, he would be captured andimprisoned. Her actions had trapped him. Whichever wayhe turned; whichever borders he finally crossed, he was asdoomed as their new and fragile love.
Valentyna twisted beneath her remaining sheet, banishingthoughts of his touch, which brought a new kind of ache toher body. She would have given herself gladly to him thatnight before the tourney, but his was the voice of calmamong the waves of passion. It was Romen who pulled back,Romen who made her see the reason for holding on to themost precious commodity for a new queen.
Virginity was wealth, he had counseled. More importantly,it was power. A virgin queen was an irresistible magnetfor appropriate suitors. Except she wanted nohusband . . . not unless it was Koreldy.
She rubbed her tired but stubborn eyes and sat up. Thiswould not do. Pulling on a soft robe to ward off the chill, Valentynamoved to the window and looked out toward the darkwoodland she loved so much.
"It might work," she murmured as an idea gathered resonancein her thoughts. She could meet him somewhere outsideof Briavel's borders. Somewhere safe, where they couldrendezvous in secret. If only she could feel his kiss just oncemore, it would be enough, she told herself naively, hardly believingit herself.
Blood and Memory
Excerpted from Blood and Memory: The Quickening by Fiona McIntosh
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
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