The Queen Underneath Page 15

  “I’m sorry,” Tollan mumbled beneath his breath.

  Devery grinned broadly. “Mate,” he said, laughing, “you’ve got balls the size of coconuts.”

  It wasn’t more than a minute or two later that they heard footsteps on the ramp. The door swung open and Isbit came inside the tavern supporting Gemma.

  Devery was up in a heartbeat, across the room before Tollan could breathe. Seeing the assassin move with that sort of speed nearly turned Tollan’s bowels to water.

  Devery took Gemma from Isbit and spoke soft words in her ear as she tried to shrug him off. Tollan turned to Elam, who, he was surprised to find, was still holding his hand. His first instinct—to yank it away before his mother saw—proved ineffective when Isbit slid into the seat that Devery had vacated and eyed the pair of them.

  “Well, hello there, young man,” she said, nodding politely to Elam. “My name is Isbit, as I am sure you know, and it seems I have missed a great deal in my son’s life.”

  Elam bowed his head, then smiled at her. “I am Elam Bailderas, formerly of the Dalinn,” he said, without averting his gaze. “I apologize for our lack of decorum, Your Grace. It has been a most troubling week.”

  She shook her head and waved her hand. “Think nothing of it, Master Bailderas. I, too, have had a most interesting week, and I’m relieved to find that my son has someone to share his burdens with. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

  A wave of guilt rolled over Tollan. Here his mother was laying all of his baggage out for Elam to carry, when they hadn’t even spoken about, well, about anything, really. She was assuming too much from their casual display. In response, he almost pulled his hand away again. But the idea of losing the warmth and the weight of Elam’s hand against his own made him second-guess that decision.

  Goddess, he hadn’t even known Elam’s last name. And Elam had said he was formerly of the Dalinn. Was he leaving the church? Tollan’s mouth went dry with all the imagined implications, but there was no way he could have this conversation with Elam while his mother and Wince sat right beside them. He wasn’t sure he could have it even if they were alone. And then the idea of being alone with Elam made his breath hitch in his throat.

  “Wincel, it’s good to see you, again,” Isbit said.

  “And you, Your Grace.”

  Wince had begun to wear a constant expression that was a combination of befuddlement and fear. Tollan couldn’t really blame him. He was having a hard time even looking at his mother. Elam, however, made polite conversation, remarking on the beauty of the Heart’s Desire and his sorrow at hearing of the loss of Jamis Heliata at sea. Isbit responded in kind, pleasantly discussing the weather in Yigris and the beautiful colors of the previous night’s sunset.

  Everyone ignored the whale in the bath—the fact that his mother had just tortured someone. Nauseated, Tollan looked around the room.

  Devery carried Gemma toward the separate dining room. Her skin was strangely pale, her eyes were dull and glassy, and her arms hung limply.

  “I … I need Lian,” Devery said to all of them hoarsely. “Will you go find her, please? She’ll know what to do.” His voice trembled, and his eyes welled with tears. “Please hurry.”

  Tollan turned to Elam, who was already heading toward the door. “I … I’ll come, too.”

  As Tollan watched, Elam stopped and turned to Devery. “There were some leaves of something in her satchel. Some tea. It may help.” His hands trembled. “We’re going for help, Gemma,” Elam called out. “Stay strong.”

  Some moments later, though it felt like hours, Tollan found himself standing outside of the door to the private dining room at the Belly Up. Everywhere he looked—on the floors, on the walls and on one spot on the ceiling—there was blood. He could hear Devery arguing with Lian.

  “I’m not leaving!” Devery said, tension thick in his voice.

  “Yes, you are.” Lian didn’t raise her voice, and everything about her tone spoke of calm, but she would not allow for any nonsense. “You can’t help her right now, and what I have to do is going to be … unpleasant. You will listen to me, boy.” Tollan was impressed with the authority in her words as the tiny maid ordered the deadly assassin from the room.

  A low sound—part growl, part whimper—escaped Devery before he said, “What do you have to do?”

  Tollan heard Lian sigh, then she said, “I think there’s a piece of the babe still inside of her. I’m going to try to flush it out, or else she’ll keep bleeding. And she can’t live through much more bleeding, Dev.” There was silence for a long moment before she said, “I’ll do what I can to make her safe. You know I love her, too.”

  There was a muffled sob, and some soft words, before the door creaked open and a pale-faced, hollow-eyed Devery slipped out of the room. He put his back to the wall beside the door and slid to the floor, his head in his hands. He shook with silent sobs as Elam sat down beside him.

  He didn’t say anything. Tollan didn’t think there was anything to say. He watched as Elam wrapped his arm around Devery’s shoulders, and the assassin seemed to flow into his arms. He dampened Elam’s shirt with his tears.

  Elam began to pray quietly, but as his heart took up the words, he spoke more firmly. All Tollan could do was look on and pray with him.

  “Goddess—mother and lover of us all—I beseech you in the name of your daughter, Gemma Antos. If ever there were a woman who embodied your spirit, it is she. She has the mind of a queen and the heart of a mother, the bravery and body of a warrior and the soul of a lover. As your humble servant, I beg of you. I need her. This man needs her. This city needs her. Please, Aegos. Save her.”

  Devery had stopped crying, though his body still trembled against Elam’s. Tollan ached to go to Elam, to comfort him as he comforted Devery. Wince and Isbit stood nearby, faces drawn. The room seemed to hold its breath as they waited.

  A trembling scream, weak but expressive, erupted from inside the room, and Elam had to hold Devery back. “Lian will help her, Dev. There’s nothing you can do. Trust in the goddess.”

  Devery looked at him, eyes filled with desperation. “That’s a load of horseshit, Elam, and you know it.”

  Tollan felt like a voyeur. In this moment, the relationships between the team from Under were laid bare, and he and Wince and his mother had no business witnessing it.

  Elam smiled. “That may well be, Dev,” he said. “But I still have faith in miracles.”

  Another several silent minutes passed, and then the dining room door opened to reveal Lian, bloodied to her elbows. Her face was streaked with tears. “I’ve—I’ve done all that I know to do,” she said, her voice quaking. She didn’t say anything more. The look on her face made the rest clear.

  Wince was standing in a pool of blood. He wasn’t sure whose blood it was. There were a number of corpses strewn about the floor. The blood might have belonged to one of the Amber Mew’s sailors who had stumbled out, wounded but still breathing. The blood might have belonged to the pirate captain himself—Gemma had done a number on him, even before she’d gotten him outside, and Queen Isbit had brought more of him back in with her. And goddess knew that the blood might be Gemma’s.

  As far as Wince could see, he and Tollan were standing in the middle of the only conscious members of Yigrisian society, every damned one of whom was loyal to the woman bleeding out in the private dining room. If Under took it upon themselves to riot, he had to figure out a way to keep Tollan safe. He wasn’t sure that the two of them could sail the Heart’s Desire on their own, but to Wince’s mind, that was the smartest, safest route out of this tinderbox.

  He glanced to the side and saw Queen Isbit’s eyes glittering with anticipation. He sighed, turning away from the animal desire she exhibited as she waited for Lian’s word. It was clear to Wince that no matter what happened to Gemma, Queen Isbit had things positioned right where she wanted them. A shudder ran through him, his hands clammy with nerves.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed mo
vement by the inn’s front door. He moved toward it just as a heartbroken wail came out from the dining room. The cries of everyone in the room created a song of grief in rounds, and Wince was the only one who saw two things: the look on Isbit’s face and the little girl who’d just slipped into the tavern.

  She held her hands up in front of her in surrender. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I’m looking for my Papa. I’m here to help.”

  If Gemma never again woke up in a room she didn’t recognize, it would be too soon. She rolled onto her side, groggy, and felt wetness upon her legs and thighs. She struggled to sit up, but strong hands were suddenly on her shoulders. “Shhh,” Devery whispered into her ear. “Don’t move too quickly.”

  She was finally able to focus on his face, and what she saw there drew her up short. He was pale and haggard, his eyes red rimmed, his face both tear stained and blood spattered. As she met his gaze, a sob slipped from between his lips, and he clutched her to him. “Aegos, Gem. I thought I’d lost you.”

  Trying to get her bearings, she looked around the room. She was on a long dining table. Towels and rags and blankets lay beneath her, all soaked in blood. She was naked to the waist, and the hem of her shirt was blood soaked, too. Devery was with her, and against the wall was his daughter, Katya.

  “What’s going on?” Gemma asked.

  Devery sat down on the edge of the table. He looked down at her with so much love that she averted her gaze. “You were dying,” he said, “maybe even dead. I don’t know. A piece of the baby was lodged in your womb, and you were losing blood. Lian fished it out, but …” His shoulders began to tremble.

  Gemma looked at the girl who was staring at her own feet. Katya’s right hand was stained with blood. Gemma suddenly knew what had happened. Now that she was aware of it, she could feel the mage work running through her. “Come here, Katy,” she said softly.

  Gemma lifted the bloody hem of her shirt to reveal a small handprint atop her navel, around which lay an intricate mage mark burned into her skin. “You saved me.” She couldn’t think of the right words to say. Her heart was full of gratitude and awe. Gemma brushed her fingers along the white streak in Katya’s hair. “Thank you, mite.”

  “You’re not angry with me?” Katya asked.

  Gemma laughed before she could help herself. “Why would I be angry? You saved my life.”

  “I mean about before. Because of the fires. I was only trying to keep Under safe. Aunt Elsha was going to trap you all and have you killed. I added the fire so she couldn’t get to you, but I thought you’d be angry if …” Katya stared at her feet.

  “You did all that?” Gemma stared at this child of the man she loved. She had always seen the potential in Katya—but this was something different. Suddenly, the idea of a mage queen leading Under struck Gemma like a runaway cart. Katya was a gift she could give Yigris, more than any heir she could produce. “You’re perfect, Katy,” she said, smiling.

  Gemma sighed as she wrapped Katya in a hug. She was sure she was smearing blood all over the girl’s pretty dress, but she didn’t care. “Now you listen close, mite,” she said. “What you did saved people’s lives. You saved Yigris, you saved the Guild, and you saved me. So that makes you the heroine of three of my favorite things.”

  Katya looked up at her and grinned crookedly, but her smile quickly faded. “Aunt Elsha said she’s going to kill you and Papa. Grandmother said that you ruined him, and Aunt Elsha’s going to have to kill you both so that she can destroy Under forever. Grandmother wants me to go with her to the palace with Aunt Elsha and be queens and make Yigris suffer for what it’s done to us. She said Yigris will be a new Vaga with three mage queens. But I …” She looked at Devery. “Papa, I don’t want to be a queen, and I don’t want to make people suffer. I don’t want you to …” She started to cry, and Devery picked her up.

  “It’s all right, Katy. Nothing bad is going to happen to me or to Gemma. I won’t let it, and I know you won’t, either. You traveled all the way across the city to protect us. You’re as brave as the Queen of Under herself.” He smiled gently at Gemma, but his eyes were sad.

  Katya threw her arms around his neck. Then Devery said, “But I need you to be a little braver, still.”

  Katya drew away from him.

  “I need you to go back to your grandmother before she discovers that you’ve sneaked away. If she finds out you’re gone, she’ll tear the city apart looking for you. All of the people you saved will be in danger again. You have to keep pretending just a little longer.”

  The girl’s bottom lip poked out, but then she nodded, trembling. “And then we can be together as a family? You promised. You said that you and me and Gemma would be a family.”

  Devery’s face was awash with emotion as he looked at Gemma and then back at Katya. “That’s not up to me, Katy. We need to give Gemma some time to understand everything that’s happened.”

  Katya wriggled free of Devery’s grasp and threw her arms around Gemma. “I’ll be a good girl!” she said earnestly. “I’ll help with chores, and I’ll be quiet, and I’ll—”

  Gemma laughed and kissed her on the cheek, squeezing her tightly. “It’s been a pretty full few days, mite. I have a lot to think about, but … I love you, and I’d …” She looked up at Devery, whose face had gone stark and still. She sighed. “I’d like nothing better than to be a family.”

  Katya met her gaze with utter seriousness, and a shudder ran through Gemma. She felt as if the little girl were weighing her sincerity. “I love you,” Gemma said, putting all of her hopes and fears and weaknesses into those three words. It was the truth, but as with all truths, it was bigger than any words could contain.

  Devery stared at her, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. She shrugged. “We’ll figure it out,” she whispered. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he nodded.

  The little girl squealed, wiggled loose from Gemma’s grasp and hugged Devery’s waist as he stood and tried to hush her. “All right, Katy. You said that Grandmother is planning for you both to go to the palace. When will you go?”

  “Tomorrow night,” the girl whispered.

  Gemma could tell by Devery’s expression that he was already planning. “I know you’re not going to like this, Gemma, but I want Lian to give you something to help you sleep. We can plan in the morning. You need to go somewhere where you can rest and recover, because goddess knows you’re not going to stay behind when we take the palace tomorrow night. Am I right?”

  Gemma wanted to argue, but she was battered and exhausted. She felt like a rag that had been used to scrub Guildhall, then was left in the sun to bake. “Will you come, too?” she asked softly.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Anywhere and always.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DOCKSIDE

  Tollan stared up into the leaden darkness of the storeroom of the Belly Up. Wince’s snores echoed against the walls. The air was heavy with the aroma of onions, spices, and cured meats. They’d promised the tavern keep that they’d sleep there tonight to deter any further unrest. But the airflow was clamped off, and Tollan felt like he couldn’t breathe. He shrugged down his blanket of thin, itchy wool. He felt tangled up in the night’s events, drowning in too much information. His mother had offered her ship—no, his ship—and he regretted declining the opportunity to sleep on the gentle sway of the Hadriak.

  But his mind turned another corner as he listened to Wince rolling over on his pallet. Tollan found himself thinking of Elam. He felt himself begin to stiffen involuntarily beneath his blanket, and he shifted uncomfortably. Aegos. Now isn’t the time for …

  But it was too late. He rolled onto his side, pressing his cock between his thighs in an effort to dampen the urgency. Suddenly, the air in the room wasn’t oppressive. It was alive with possibility. Elam was sleeping upstairs. They were breathing under the same roof, in the same quarter of Yigris, under the same sky.

  Tollan trembled, pulling his blanket tighter around him. In his mind, he he
ard his father’s voice calling him a coward—feeble, impotent, spineless, craven. Calling him a woman, which to his father had been the very worst insult one could give. Tears stung at his eyes. But this was his chance to be brave. All he had to do was get up, pull on his clothes and walk through that door. All he had to do was knock. And hope.

  His erection wilted, but his desire to hold Elam in his arms did not. This may be our only chance. Be brave, you nerveless shit. Pushing aside any logical thought, his feet found the floor.

  Aegos. I knocked. Why the prick did I knock? Tollan turned to slip away, suddenly desperate for the suffocating confines of the storeroom. But it was too late. He heard footsteps. The latch was thrown. He turned back, panic seizing him.

  The room was illuminated, too bright for its occupant to have been asleep. Elam stood in the doorway in just his breeches. He was barefoot, and he smiled sheepishly at Tollan. “I was hoping you’d come knocking.”

  Tollan couldn’t help but take in the whole of him. He was slender, muscles not overly defined, but he didn’t look soft, either. His skin was honeyed ochre, smooth and unblemished. There was a hint of the old noble Yigrisian blood there, watered down, but stunning in its warmth. A thin trail of dark hair ran from his navel downward, disappearing beneath the lacings of his breeches. When Elam turned to motion him into the room, Tollan saw a crisscrossing of thin scars across his shoulders. Fierce hatred for the person who had tried to mar such beauty settled like hot coal in his belly.

  But then Tollan felt the blood rush from his face. How could he think that this perfect man would want to touch him? He was hard and hairy and angular and inexperienced and … Oh, goddess. As erect as the palace walls.

  “You weren’t sleeping?” Tollan stammered, suddenly aware of his arms and legs, his skin and hair. Every part of his body was singing with hope.

  Elam grinned. “The only way men ever respond to the threat of impending death is either with fighting or with pricking. You already tried to start a fight, and, thank the goddess, Devery quashed that urge. So I thought I’d stay up a while, just in case you had a mind for the other. Would you like to come in?” he said, gesturing toward the bedroom he’d claimed for the night. The tavern keep was holed up with one of the Six-Mast girls, enjoying a night paid for by Gemma in reparation for damage done.