The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [226]
“And what of me, Your Majesty?” Tarus said.
“Do whatever King Teravian asks of you.”
Tarus looked as if he was about to protest, but Grace laid a hand on his shoulder. “He is your liege, Sir Tarus.”
The red-haired knight met her eyes. Then he turned and bowed before Teravian. “How can I serve you, Your Majesty?”
Teravian's gray eyes were thoughtful. “It turns out I'm rather new at all this kingly business, Sir Tarus, and I really don't want to muck it up. People think little enough of me as it is. I could use some help getting the army properly situated in the keep, and many of the knights will be glad to see a familiar face.”
Tarus called for his horse, then rode with Teravian back toward the army. Grace noticed that Aryn followed the young king with her gaze, though the expression in her blue eyes was unreadable. Samatha had vanished, and Paladus, Vedarr, and the other men went to see to their duties, leaving only the four witches.
Senrael hobbled up to Aryn. “You've grown since I last saw you, deary.”
Aryn laughed. “I'm sure I'm exactly the same height I was at the High Coven, Sister Senrael.” But of course that wasn't what the old witch had meant.
Lursa hesitated, then shyly gripped Aryn's left hand. “It is good to see you again, sister. And tell me of Sister Lirith? Did you bring her with you?”
“I'm afraid Lirith remained in Calavere.” Aryn glanced at Grace. “I asked her and Sareth if they would keep watch over the Dominion while we were gone. They weren't happy about being left behind, but Teravian and I needed to leave someone we trusted to help Lord Farvel in our absence. Not all of the enemy's forces are here in the north.”
Lursa sighed. “I'm sorry she's not here. Our coven could have used her. She is stronger in the Sight than any I have ever met.” The young witch glanced at Grace. “What would you have us do, sister?”
“Keep healing the wounded,” Grace said. She touched Lursa's arm. “And you're stronger in the Sight than you believe. If you see anything . . .”
“I will come to you at once, sister,” Lursa said, and she and Senrael passed back through the gate of the keep. Aryn and Grace were alone.
A smile curved Aryn's lips despite her troubled eyes. “Do you remember the day we first met in Calavere? We all thought you were a queen, only you said you were just a doctor. But it turned out we were right all along. You are a queen.”
Grace started to protest out of habit, then stopped herself. Perhaps Malachor was a dead kingdom, but she was alive, and she had King Ulther's sword at her side. “I suppose you're right at that. Come on, let's go find Durge.”
They hurried across the yard, asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of the Embarran knight. They found a soldier who had seen Durge walking toward the keep's main tower some time ago, and the two women headed that way.
“Did Tira say why you had to find Durge?” Grace asked Aryn as they hurried across the yard.
“No, she just spoke his name. But it has to be important, doesn't it? After all, Tira has hardly ever spoken. What do you think it means?”
Grace didn't answer. However, a note of dread cut through the joy she felt at Aryn's arrival. Tira had helped Aryn to hurry north. Why? To reach the keep before it was too late? Or to reach Durge?
You have to tell her, Grace.
She started to reach out to Aryn's thread, only they had come to the tower, and she pulled back. It could wait a little while longer; let Aryn see Durge one last time without knowing what lay in his chest.
They headed down a corridor, toward the doors to the main hall. The doors were shut, and no guards stood outside, which seemed odd. Then again, it was not the inside of the keep that needed guarding, but rather the outer wall. No doubt Paladus had ordered all of the men on duty there. Grace pushed open one of the doors, and she and Aryn entered the hall beyond.
“Oh,” Grace said, stopping short.
Aryn pressed her hand to her mouth, too late to stifle a gasp. The sharp scent of smoke hung on the air. There had been a fire; some of the rushes