Second Sons - Lord Of The Shadows Part 23

Mellie Thorn was a strong swimmer, so she volunteered to teach Misha. It was a little embarra.s.sing for Misha to admit he couldn't swim. He was a grown man who had spent his whole life near the sea.

But Mellie seemed glad she was able to do something to help. Misha suspected she was bored. After the initial excitement of their flight from Mil and arrival in Damita had worn off, with no friends her own age nearby, Mellie found herself with little else to do but work her way through Oscon's extensive library, or go for long, solitary walks. On the rare occasions she had disappeared for a walk, Tia hadbeen so angry at her for wandering off that Mellie soon discounted it as a viable way to pa.s.s the time.

Misha promised he would go walking with Mellie when he was strong enough, to which Tia responded contemptuously: "Over my dead body!"

Misha smiled. He suspected that Tia didn't doubt he would eventually be strong enough to walk unaided. It was the idea she would let either Mellie or Misha roam the countryside around Garwenfield unescorted that prompted her comment.

They were sitting on the beach, letting the warm second sun dry their skin. The ocean lapped the white sand with hypnotic regularity. The screeching of gulls searching the sh.o.r.eline for sc.r.a.ps was the only thing preventing them from being caught in its spell. Misha was tired, but not unbearably so. Mellie was a surprisingly patient teacher, and Tia always remained close by, to make sure he didn't drown when they paddled out into the deeper water. He could not swim yet, but he could tread water for longer and longer periods each day. His right arm and leg felt as strong as they ever had, although the weakness in his left side was an endless source of frustration.

"I fear our jailer plans to let neither of us out of her sight, Mellie," Misha predicted with a smile.

"I'll give you jailer," Tia snapped. "If I catch either of you even thinking about wandering off without me, I'll lock you both in a dungeon and you can survive on bread and water and whatever food I can slip under the door."

"There are no dungeons here, Tia," Mellie laughed. "She's such a grouch, isn't she?" she added to Misha.

"I know," he agreed with a grin. "What do you think we should do about it?"

"We could throw her back into the water," Mellie suggested.

"You and Misha?" Tia scoffed. "That'll be the day."

"She's right, Mellie. But give me time to get stronger and then we'll catch her unawares one day and toss her into the sea."

"It's a bargain!" Mellie laughed, climbing to her feet. "Do you want to try again?"

Misha shook his head. "I've had enough for one day, I think. But don't let me stop you if you want to keep swimming."

Mellie ran down the sand toward the water and splashed into the small waves. Misha watched her for a while, and then turned to look at Tia, who was staring out over the water with a pensive expression.

"I envy Mellie Thorn."

"Why?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Because she's so unaffected. I wish I was as innocent of the dangers of being an heir."

"Mellie's not the heir to anything."

"Don't kid yourself, Tia. While Alenor D'Orlon remains childless, there is no other logical heir to Dhevyn unless you want to see Dirk Provin on the Eagle Throne."

As usual, her expression darkened at the mention of Dirk's name. "Are you suggesting that Dirk would kill Alenor, and then try to remove Mellie as well?"

He shook his head. "I know your opinion of Dirk, Tia, but the more I think about it, the more I don't believe the Eagle Throne of Dhevyn is what he's after."

"What is he after then?""I think he's trying to destroy the Church."

Tia snorted skeptically. "He joined the d.a.m.ned Church, Misha!"

"It's sometimes easier to pull a thing down from the inside," he said, "than to stand outside throwing rocks at it."

"You're as bad as Lexie," she complained. "You just can't help trying to find a reason to convince yourself he hasn't betrayed us, can you? I hope you haven't been telling Mellie your bizarre theories. I warned you about that."

"She's not mentioned him to me since Mil."

"Good. The less time she spends dwelling on her b.a.s.t.a.r.d half-brother, the better."

"You didn't know him before he came to Avacas, did you?" he asked. "The Dirk Provin you describe is different from the boy I once played chess with."

"You knew the boy, Misha. It's the man you should worry about."

If Tia thought her anger masked the pain behind her words, then she was mistaken. Misha thought Master Helgin was right when he speculated that Tia and Dirk had been more than friends. It would account for why her rage seemed to have no limit.

"Did you love him very much, Tia?"

She glared at him for a moment, and then scrambled angrily to her feet and stalked off toward the house without answering his question.

Misha only began to fully appreciate how much he had angered Tia later that day when it came time for the daily ma.s.sage Helgin had prescribed.

Over the past weeks, Tia had been a conscientious student, as she learned under Helgin's careful guidance how to mix the oils, how to warm the muscles gently before working them, and how to ease the knots and twists that half a lifetime of being bedridden had wrought on his body.

He had been reluctant at first. Master Helgin had stood over Tia, instructing her in the correct techniques, while he lay on the table like an undressed side of beef. He was self-conscious about his lopsided body, and while he didn't have a problem with Master Helgin's professional gaze, there was something extremely unsettling about Tia Veran's touch. She had been very businesslike about the whole thing, however, and three days before, Master Helgin had declared her sufficiently competent to continue without his supervision.

But there was nothing gentle or considerate about her touch today. She was brutal. Her strong hands, which he usually found so soothing, were not easing his muscles, they were pulverizing them. Her fingers felt like iron bars, and she seemed to be seeking out every sore spot on his back and making it her mission to bruise it even more.

"Ouch!" he yelped, as she found one of the pressure points at the base of his spine and applied far more pressure than was necessary.

"Don't be such a baby."

Misha was lying on his stomach so he couldn't see her expression. He turned his head to look at her.

"Do you mind? You'll break something if you keep on like that."

"Stop complaining. This is good for you."

Misha s.n.a.t.c.hed at her arm with his good hand to prevent her doing him serious damage. "Don't take your anger at Dirk out on me, Tia."

"Let me go," she ordered coldly.Misha kept hold of her arm and twisted himself around into a sitting position. The mere fact he could manage such a thing was a testament to how much he had improved, but he didn't have time, just then, to savor his achievement.

"Tia, I don't know what happened between you and Dirk-"

She s.n.a.t.c.hed her arm free of his grasp. "That's right, Misha, you don't know. So just mind your own d.a.m.n business!"

"Tia, if you hate him as much as you claim, why are you letting him get you like this? He's not here.

He's not even on the same continent. Despise him for what he's done, if you must, but don't let him ruin your life by turning you into a bitter old woman. That's giving Dirk far more than he deserves."

Tia's eyes blazed angrily for a moment, and then she sighed, as if her rage had exhausted her and she no longer had the will to sustain it.

"I just can't help myself, Misha," she said, leaning on the table beside him. "Just the mention of his name makes me want to kill something."

"I noticed," Misha said with a thin smile.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"The bruises will fade eventually."

She was silent for a moment and then looked at him with a smile. "I hope Master Helgin doesn't come in and catch us like this."

"Like what?"

Tia bent down and picked up the towel that had fallen to the floor when Misha had pulled himself up. He felt his face warming with embarra.s.sment as he s.n.a.t.c.hed it from her hand and hurriedly threw it across his lap.

"You're blus.h.i.+ng!" Tia laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You are too! There's no need to be embarra.s.sed, Misha. It's not as if I haven't seen plenty of naked men before."

"Really?" he asked with a raised brow.

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded..."

Misha smiled. "Now who's blus.h.i.+ng?"

"Just lie down and shut up, Misha, so we can get this finished."

"I'll bet you didn't say that to all the naked men you've seen before."

Tia scowled at him, shoving him none too gently in the chest to force him to lie down. He fell backward, banging his head painfully on the table.

"Ow!" he yelled, although he did have the presence of mind to keep the towel in place.

"You're such a girl," Tia told him unsympathetically.

"What is going on in here?" Master Helgin demanded, opening the door with a disapproving frown.

"I can hear you yelling all the way down the hall."

Misha turned his head to look at Helgin. "There's no problem, Master Helgin. Tia just seems to think a slight concussion might speed my recovery."

Helgin stared at both of them with a puzzled frown, and then turned away, muttering to himself as heclosed the door behind him.

Misha looked back at Tia, who was silent for a moment, and then, like guilty children caught doing something naughty, they both burst out laughing.

After that, Tia's mood was much improved. Misha was not sure if he'd been responsible or not.

Perhaps it was pointing out that Dirk still had power over her while she was angry with him. Or it might have been that she had seen him-all of him- and was still laughing about that.

Whatever the reason, even Oscon remarked on the change in her.

Tia Veran fascinated Misha. She would laugh wholeheartedly if she thought something was funny, but could explode into fury at the slightest provocation. She could argue politics better than Lord Palinov and play chess better than anyone he knew (not counting Dirk). She was tougher than a drill sergeant when he was exercising, but when Master Helgin began to taper the dose of poppy-dust and Misha became so skittish he couldn't sleep, she would stay up all night talking to him so that he did not have to suffer alone.

He had never met anyone so blunt, so honest or so open. She was equally pa.s.sionate about those she loved and those she hated. Raised at court, and surrounded all his life by people who played political games to advance themselves in his father's favor, he found her frankness enchanting.

Misha knew he was more than a little bit in love with Tia Veran, although he made no attempt to act on it. For one thing, she was still aching over Dirk, and he was certain the last thing she was interested in was another man.

The second reason was simple pride. If he ever declared himself to Tia, he could not bear her accepting his love out of pity.

So Misha settled for silence, and turned his mind to fighting the poppy-dust that seemed determined not to relinquish its grip on him. As the doses he took were reduced, some of his earlier symptoms reappeared. He was trembling and quite often nauseous, but he had not suffered any fits and was stronger than he had been in years, so it was easier to deal with the symptoms than it had been in the past.

The long, languid days in Garwenfield blurred into one another. He lost track of time; did not know if he had been here for weeks or months. Each day was more difficult than the day before as the drug reluctantly loosened its hold on him, but each day he survived made him stronger and more determined.

Helgin often warned him the worst was yet to come, but Misha found the prospect less daunting than it had been in the past.

For the first time in many years, he had hope, and he discovered that was almost as powerful a narcotic as poppy-dust. In spite of his illness and his unrequited love, Misha was the happiest he could ever remember being.

And then a bird arrived sent by Lexie from Mil. Oscon came down to the main hall to inform them the Baenlands had been invaded and it was Dirk Provin who had led the Senetian forces.

Chapter 32.

She had no idea how Jacinta managed it, but less than a week after the lady-in-waiting's visit, Madalan informed Marqel she was to attend a banquet at the palace in honor of the Dhevynian queen.

Not only that, but she was also to stay the night at the palace, returning the following morning to the Hallof Shadows. Marqel made a point of appearing less than pleased with the interruption to her work-so effectively that Madalan actually scolded her for her lack of enthusiasm.

She took great pains with her appearance, brus.h.i.+ng her fair hair to a s.h.i.+ne, and wearing only those pieces of jewelry she could not recall seeing Belagren wear in Antonov's presence. There was no guarantee Antonov would not recognize some of them, but she s.h.i.+ed away from the more familiar pieces, hoping to give the impression she was frugal as well as pious and divine.

The dinner itself proved tedious beyond belief. The food was excellent, naturally, but the discussion around the table centered almost entirely on Dhevyn's economic woes, in which Marqel had no interest.

She was seated at the foot of the long table opposite Antonov, and could barely even catch his eye through the forest of silverware, crystal and bowls of flowers covering the table.

After dinner, things improved a little when they retired to the terrace to enjoy a nightcap and to watch the heat lightning streaking the red sky over the Tresna Sea. Marqel managed to extricate herself from an awkward conversation with the Galinan amba.s.sador, and made her way to where Alenor was talking to Antonov. The queen saw her approach and smiled at her warmly.

"My lady! Please, won't you join us?"

"I've no wish to interrupt a private conversation, your majesty."

"Nonsense! We were just admiring the lightning, weren't we, your highness? Do you think the G.o.ddess means anything by it, my lady, or is she just showing off?"

The question caught Marqel unawares. She was here to seduce the Lion of Senet, not get into a theological discussion.

"I... er... I think she's reminding us she controls the weather," Marqel suggested warily.

Antonov raised his gla.s.s in her direction. "You've gone right to the heart of the matter, my lady. I feel more and more easy with the G.o.ddess's choice each time I see you."