Oathbreaker Read online

  “Which is why we need your help. Come eat with us. Look your friends in the eyes. Every one of them helped you claim that jewel.” Kenton gestured toward the stone, his eyes catching on its glimmering flame again. “You owe them the same. And you owe your people freedom from the bloody reign of Maldorath that will come down on you if you refuse to help us.”

  “I know.” Saara lips tightened. “But my first concern is for Tirostaar.”

  Kenton tried to control his anger. “And the rest of the world can rot, as long as you get to play queen?”

  Saara’s nostrils flared and the flames on her hands grew brighter. She took a few steps toward him, and he thought she might slap him, but the slap never came. Her chin tilted upward; she eyed him defiantly. “I’ve made my decision.”

  Kenton stared, not at Saara the bearer of Nerendal, but at the bloody queen of Tirostaar. He remembered the anger in her eyes, reflecting the coals of the fire, the night he’d told them all that they’d been chosen by their gods. The eager way she’d agreed with him that they had to start in Tirostaar.

  Saara had never wanted to help them. She’d only wanted to be queen. He should have realized this all along.

  “Wonderful.” He started walking out of her throne room, too angry right now to think of where they might meet.

  “Kenton,” Saara said.

  He turned on his heels, glaring at her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For telling me who I am. For helping me take the throne. Light be with you all.”

  Kenton’s blood burned under his skin. He desperately wanted to yell out every curse he knew, to punch something. Anything. Perhaps the Sunstone, swirling placidly on its pedestal.

  He glared at the god. “Thank you,” he muttered, “for nothing.” Then he stalked out, leaving the stone to its own pulsing contemplation.

  Kenton wasn’t feeling any better about the situation as he walked onto the balcony where dinner was to be held. A couple of hours spent mulling over the argument had, in fact, only increased his bitterness towards Saara. Sure, she had power and responsibilities now beyond what any of them had left behind. But her willingness to throw the rest of them—the rest of the world—to the wolves was colder than he’d thought her capable. Everything they had gone through, everything they had suffered, had been for far more than Saara’s throne.

  At the center of the balcony, a rich assortment of food had been laid out, many items that Kenton recognized from the few days he had been dining in Tir Neren. One platter of beef in particular brought back memories of mouthwatering flavor, followed later that night by the sensation that his guts were being pulled with tongs through a smithy’s furnace. He decided to avoid that particular dish. The sharp scent of spice and roasted meat mingled with the aroma of the balcony’s huge flowers.

  Tir Neren was beautiful, he couldn’t deny it. But they were here on business, not pleasure, and their business was now in moving on.

  Saara would not make this all for nothing.

  In his opinion, hog-tying Saara and dragging her onto the ship didn’t sound all that bad. That image brought a small smile to his face as he reached the edge of the balcony. The air was too warm for his comfort, although the blazing heat of midday had receded somewhat. The sun was low in the sky, but still bright enough to make the light-globes, which hung from poles at intervals, little more than decorations.

  He needed to talk to Perchaya, get her opinion on the matter. He’d grown used to being with her nearly every hour of the day, but these last days things had been easier, and she’d been occupied, mostly with Daniella. After they’d taken the stone there had been no more reason for Perchaya and Kenton to share a room, and Perchaya had moved into one of her own, but he’d found himself missing her—even the steadiness of her breathing helped calm him. She always helped him to solidify his thoughts, as well as providing a rational perspective that had proved invaluable when dealing with all the strong personalities he’d been cursed with on this expedition.

  As if she’d been summoned by his thoughts, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to find Perchaya standing there in a Tirostaari outfit similar to Saara’s, with loose pants and a tunic, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders. Her hands were covered in thin lace gloves with a silk inlay concealing the Drim ring she wore and couldn’t take off. She was in far less danger here in Tirostaar of having her identity revealed—especially with Saara as queen—but Kenton was glad she was still taking precautions.

  “All right,” she said. “What’s happened? You have that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “Like you want to wring a few necks, but you don’t know what you’d do with the bodies.”

  Kenton smiled. “Descriptive.”

  “It’s the same look you had when Nikaenor spilled stew on your maps or when Daniella . . . well, did pretty much anything. What happened?” She gave him a pointed look. The bruise on her cheek was still visible, although he was glad to see that it appeared to be healing well. Unlike the guard who’d inflicted it, Perchaya hadn’t sustained more . . . grotesque injuries.

  “Saara refuses to come with us. She won’t leave Tir Neren.” He kept his voice low. While he couldn’t speak Tirostaari, there was a good chance some of the servants lurking nearby spoke Sevairnese.

  Perchaya frowned. “Doesn’t she realize we need her?”

  “Yes, she knows. She just doesn’t care. She’s got her power now, and the rest of the world can deal with Diamis themselves.” He sighed. He was being technically unfair. “She has magnanimously agreed to meet us when we’re ready to return to Peldenar to take the stones to Maldorath’s seal. But not before.”

  Perchaya scrubbed at her forehead. “I was worried about that. I understand what she’s thinking. It would be hard for her to leave now. It’s a lot of responsibility all at once.”

  “Talia would rule in her stead. People would accept her, better than Saara, even.”

  “That’s probably what Saara’s afraid of. Talia supports her now, but after she gets comfortable ruling . . .”

  Perchaya had a point, but Kenton wouldn’t concede that Saara did. “Instead, she’ll play politics and create a nice, stable country just in time for Maldorath to bleed it dry,” he said. “Literally.”

  “I know. I agree with you. There has to be some way to convince her of how important the remainder of the journey is. For Tirostaar, if nothing else.”

  Kenton rolled his eyes. “Convince her? While we’re at it, let’s convince Diamis to give up.”

  Perchaya’s eyes glinted in amusement. “So your alternate plan would be something along the lines of dragging her bound and gagged back to the mainland?”

  Kenton smiled again, despite himself. “Well, I hadn’t thought of the gag, but now that you mention it . . .”

  Perchaya put a hand on his arm. “We’ll be all right. Saara can stay here, and as long as she’s willing to meet us in Peldenar when we’re ready, we can continue without her.”

  It sounded more reasonable when Perchaya said it. And she was right. Saara couldn’t be allowed to stop them. They would continue.

  “I just hope the others see it that way,” he said. “It’s them Saara is really betraying.”

  Perchaya nodded. “I’ll talk to them. We need to begin preparations to leave for the mainland anyway.”

  But as Kenton watched her go, he realized there was one more conversation he needed to have first.

  Kenton found Jaeme in the armory, admiring a set of leather armor painted with intricate flame designs nearly as complex as the fires of Nerendal himself. The armor was beautiful, but clearly fitted for a woman. Probably Saara, Kenton realized. Or rather Aiyen, who until recently had been queen.

  “I doubt you’ll find anything in here that will fit you,” Kenton said. The guards of the palace—along with the rest of the fighting class of Tirosta
ar—were female.

  Jaeme smiled. “I don’t suppose Saara can bring this armor with her,” he said. “Too ostentatious? We are supposed to be traveling in secret.”

  Might as well get it out now. “Saara isn’t coming. She wants to stay to rule Tirostaar.” Kenton took a deep breath, and without giving Jaeme time to react to that news, he continued. “And we need to leave Daniella here with her.”

  Jaeme’s face turned hard. “Did you bother to ask Daniella if that’s what she wants?”

  Kenton shook his head. It didn’t matter what Daniella wanted, didn’t change what needed to be done. “You saw what she did in the throne room. The way she killed all those people—”

  Jaeme’s hands tightened into fists. “You killed a few yourself, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Kenton had cut down more than his share, but Daniella had clearly not been in control when her pulse of blood magic liquefied the guards around her, leaving Jaeme and Kenton on the fringes with nosebleeds and internal bruising. It was only by luck that Perchaya had survived—protected from blood magic by her Drimmish ring.

  “If she feels her life is threatened, it could happen again,” Kenton said. “This time it could be you who gets killed. Or Sayvil. Or Nikaenor. And then what would we do?” They’d be left searching for the new bearer, giving Diamis more time to track down Kenton and Perchaya and complete the ritual to release Maldorath.

  But much as Kenton wanted to be mercenary about it, he had to admit he was concerned about their lives, in addition to the logistics.

  “Well,” Jaeme said, “being around you hasn’t exactly kept us out of danger, has it? Maybe we’d fare better if we left you with Saara. Gods know we’d have fewer headaches.”

  Kenton ignored the dig. There were more important things at stake. “Diamis is our enemy. I know Daniella doesn’t mean us harm, but traveling around with his weapon, we’re just asking for—”

  Jaeme’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke through his teeth. “That is the last time you get to call her that.”

  “The weapon?” Kenton kept his voice even, but the anger building in him matched Jaeme’s own. “That’s what she is. I know it’s not her fault, but—”

  “That’s right. It’s not her fault. And she’s not staying behind unless she chooses to. And if she does”—Jaeme’s mouth curved into a tight smile, as if he enjoyed this part—“I’m staying with her.”

  Kenton barely managed to stifle a groan. May the gods save them all from belligerent chosen. “Jaeme,” Kenton said. “Diamis wants us dead. There are incredibly powerful blood mages out there, not to mention whole armies whose sole purpose is now going to be to stop us. To put our heads on pikes in Peldenar Square. If they succeed with even one of the bearers, killing even one of you, then we’ll all be delayed in our course. Delay too much and Diamis wins, and all the takeovers, all the wars and death he’s brought to the Five Lands will be like a pleasant memory compared to what Maldorath’s going to do. To your family, to your friends. And like it or not, Daniella is somehow a part of it. By her own admission, she’s a weapon, and we can’t afford to pretend it’s not so.” Kenton shook his head, exasperated. “All hells, Jaeme. You saw what she can do.”

  “I saw her in pain,” Jaeme said. “I saw her almost killed.”

  “I know you have feelings for her,” Kenton said. “But you’re a bearer, just like they are. It’s time you remembered that and started worrying more about your part in saving the world than about your infatuation with the weapon that could end it.”

  Jaeme drew himself up to his full height, facing Kenton. “Don’t you forget who the bearers are,” he said. “You need me. I don’t need you. I swear, if you don’t start treating Daniella like a human being, I will leave. And you’ll never, ever lay claim to the Earthstone.” With that, Jaeme stalked out of the room, leaving Kenton alone in silence.

  “Wonderful,” he said to the painted armor.

  Unlike the chosen, at least the armor had the good sense not to reply.

  Two

  When Perchaya came to get Jaeme, he was lying on his bed in his cabin of the ship they’d taken out of Pendarth, enjoying the complete absence of both Kenton and Nikaenor. The ship this time afforded separate rooms for each of them—a perk, Jaeme supposed, of being friends with the queen. But in the week they’d been aboard, the ship seemed to grow smaller and smaller, such that Jaeme preferred to remain in his cabin most of the time.

  Except when he ventured out to spend time with Daniella.

  Perchaya poked her head in after knocking. “We’re meeting on deck to discuss our next steps. Join us?”

  Discussing pretty much anything with Kenton was high on his list of things he’d rather avoid. But he supposed Daniella would be there and being in her presence was always a privilege. She’d spent most of the previous day shut up in her rooms reading, and Jaeme wasn’t yet comfortable enough to try to visit her there. It wasn’t a consideration Jaeme was used to taking with women—one more way in which Daniella was different.

  She was different in every way, it turned out.

  Jaeme made himself stand to follow Perchaya above deck. The others were gathered in the aft of the ship, seated on wooden crates around a barrel covered in stale bread and hard cheese.

  Daniella smiled at Jaeme as he approached, that gorgeous smile that always sent his pulse racing. He smiled back, but then she looked away, her long, curly red hair partially hiding her face. Such had gone most of their interactions since they’d kissed in the antechamber in Tir Neren. For Jaeme, that kiss had been the spark of something wonderful, something he wanted to hold onto as tight as he could. But the more time passed, the more he wondered if, for her, it had been more like a sunset—beautiful, but over just as quick.

  There was an open seat on a wooden crate next to her, though, and she didn’t seem to mind when he sat there. Perhaps, he hoped, she’d been saving it for him.

  Daniella nibbled at a piece of hard tack while Jaeme attempted to saw through the end of a loaf of bread. They’d been at sea for only a week, but already they’d run out of the good food they’d brought from Pendarth—thanks in large part to Nikaenor—and all that remained were their rations. Sayvil was using a small paring knife on the brick of cheese, and Jaeme hoped it wasn’t the same one she used to chop her various medicinal plants. Kenton watched with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face.

  Really, that was just Kenton’s usual face. Jaeme found it hard to imagine what Kenton might look like when he was happy.

  Next to Perchaya, Nikaenor leaned over the ship railing, looking in the direction of Tirostaar, even though the mountain had faded from view days ago. “Do you think Saara’s all right?” he asked. His normally bright, earnest expression had been sadder since they left. It had been obvious to all that Nikaenor had feelings beyond the bearer connection for the new Tirostaari queen, but Jaeme—and undoubtedly even Nikaenor—had little hope that anything romantic would happen between them. Saara might care for Nikaenor as a friend and fellow godbearer, but it was equally clear to all of them that her feelings ended there.

  Ultimately, that was probably better for Nikaenor.

  “I think she made her choice,” Kenton said. “And there was nothing to be done about it. We wasted enough time on that gods-forsaken island.”

  Nikaenor frowned. “I wouldn’t say Tirostaar is gods-forsaken anymore, now that—”

  “Figure of speech,” Kenton said.

  “Still,” Sayvil said. “Feels wrong to have left her behind.” She followed Nikaenor’s gaze back to Tirostaar, her fingers toying at the end of her long, dark braid.

  Jaeme knew what Sayvil meant. He also felt wrong, like he’d left something desperately important in Tir Neren. He wondered if that would fade the farther they got from Saara, but a part of him hoped it wouldn’t. Like it was important that the bearers remain connected.

 
Like their business together was still unfinished.

  Nikaenor looked down at the hard biscuit in his hand. “At least Saara has decent food.”

  “Don’t sound so excited about joining us,” Kenton said.

  Nikaenor grimaced. “Don’t give me that look. I know I had to come with you. I’m next, right?”

  “Unless the geography of the other four lands has changed in our absence,” Kenton said. “We’ll land in Foroclae and travel from there through Mortiche.”

  Jaeme cringed. He was supposed to go back eventually, of course. His uncle would be impressed, thrilled even, that Jaeme was returning with Daniella, the very woman he’d been sent abroad to seduce.

  But the plan had been that he would stay in Drepaine with her and perhaps return to Peldenar. The plan had not been to drag Daniella herself back to Grisham—they’d never imagined such a thing would be possible, though if the Dukes Council had known, they surely would have insisted on it.

  It wasn’t failure that plagued Jaeme now, but success. He had fallen in love with Daniella, but everyone back in Grisham would expect that he was only pretending, and it was far too likely that someone would let slip the truth about his original plans.

  He’d lose any chance he might have with her—and maybe any chance he might have to keep her safe.

  “So,” Kenton said. “Even without Saara, you should all still be drawn to your stones.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Where are they pulling you? Where do you want to go?”

  Sayvil spoke first. “East.”

  Kenton rolled his eyes. “All of the mainland is east of where we are now.”

  “And north,” Sayvil said. “And though you didn’t ask, yes, I also miss my husband and yes, I want to go back to Drepaine and see him.”

  Kenton sighed, ignoring that bit. “Andronim is in the north. Can’t you be more specific?”