44
The sound of boots running up the stairs came to Únik's ears as she stared at Hatyara's body. Such a beautiful girl. Woman. Now dead because of a twisted idea of seeking revenge for something that happened so long ago. Únik realised that, in her own way, she had caught herself in that cycle of revenge, too.
Not against her husband, or against anyone else that had done wrong by her, but against herself. She had forced herself into hiding to punish herself for her actions. For not protecting Thesik. For killing her husband. She had run away to the harshest of places, cutting herself off from the world in order that she could never again take another life. That punishment had failed.
Urgent, insistent voices passed her by and the sound of swords hacking into the ice fence barrier seemed to come from a great distance. The barrier fell and she lifted herself from the floor, moving as though in a dream towards Hatyara, passing King Vraniik as soldiers surrounded her, trying to remove the ice collar.
Lifting Hatyara's body, she grimaced at the sound of the spear passing through the Ice-Kin's flesh as she removed it and she carried her to a clear space in the room. Laying Hatyara's body down, she arranged her friend's hands across her body, covering the hole created by the spear, and brushed the Ice-Kin's white hair from her face.
She felt hands touch her shoulder and then someone kneeling beside her. Ylthara. After a few seconds, they turned to each other, wrapping their arms around each other and said nothing as they embraced. Únik could feel Ylthara's body shake as she sobbed, but no tears fell from Únik's eyes. She felt numb and lost.
"You have my thanks, 'Countess', and anything you ask is yours." King Vraniik laid her hand on Únik's shoulder. Turning her head, Únik saw a great sadness in the King's eyes. "You will understand if I say that a combined effort of brave Hagragng and Ūtharan warriors were the ones to save me. In the eyes of the people, we must appear united, for the benefit of both nations."
"I understand." Nodding, Únik's eyes fell, once again to Hatyara's body.
"Good." The King patted Únik's shoulder. "Prince Ylthara. Once you have recovered, we must speak in private."
Ylthara lifted herself to her feet, grasping Únik's hand one last time, wiping her eyes and cheeks. Looking upwards, Únik could see Ylthara's face harden as she changed her demeanour. As a Prince of Alharai, she knew well the need to put forward a brave face. An untroubled face, regardless of the circumstances. Yet, Únik could see the sadness lining her face.
"Of course, your Majesty." Taking a deep breath, Ylthara turned to look across the room. "Bohyiris. Arrange for my sister's body to be removed to the compound. She is still a Prince of Alharai and she will be treated accordingly."
"No-one will ever know it was your sister that caused this, Ylthara. You have my word." With a hand on her hip, Vraniik looked down at Hatyara's body, shaking her head. "Fanatics performed this action. Your sister's memory will remain pure."
With one last look at Únik, giving her an acknowledging nod, Vraniik strode away, returning to the grand hall, below, to arrange for repairs to the keep and consult with her counsellors. Únik didn't doubt that the King would have much to say to those counsellors and she almost felt pity for them. If they had urged caution to Vraniik long ago, none of this would have happened.
Returning to the Ūtharan compound took longer than she expected, walking arm-in-arm with Ylthara. They spoke no words to each other the entire way and Únik appreciated the silence as the day darkened into evening. The streets of Star Harbour had emptied during Hatyara and Shihiri's assault upon the keep, but now people began to trickle back onto the cobbles.
Reaching the compound, Únik's first thought was to find Barsa's body. In the confusion of the day, she had put aside her feelings of loss for the faithful hound, but now she wanted to see him. She had expected them to put him in some out-of-the-way place. Instead, they had set up a room for him, with candles surrounding his broken body upon a table covered with fine Valka silk.
Ylthara left her alone to mourn, choosing to spend the time mourning for her sister, alone, and to prepare to meet with King Vraniik. Únik had no doubts that Ylthara and Vraniik would have much to talk about. The tentative peace between their nations had become rocked by Hatyara's actions and that peace would require much to restore. In Únik's hand, she turned over the star-shaped pendant, the Ice-Bound promise fulfilled, given to her by Ylthara as a sign of the end of their struggle.
Bohyiris joined her, after a while. He had never shown much interest in Barsa, but Únik appreciated his company. They sat together for almost an hour before Únik decided to move and the ravaged and scarred healer helped her to stand, offering his good hand for support. He squinted at her face.
"That scratch is going to scar if you don't get it healed." Releasing her hand, he raised his own towards her face, but she stopped him, causing a frown to cross his own, scarred features.
"I'll keep it." Turning towards the door of the room, she held her hand out behind her and waited for him to hold it. "But, thank you. For everything. For this. For being a friend. Everything."
After a bath, brought in by the Ūtharan servants in their usual, silent procession, Únik fell onto her bed and clutched the covers to her nose. She still smelled Ylthara's sweet perfume upon the material and it made her feel safe and comforted. She fell asleep within seconds of laying down her head.
The next morning and for most of the day, Únik wandered around the city and she marvelled how it appeared to have forgotten the events of the day before. Ylthara had risen at dawn and left without coming to see Únik. She wondered if the Ice-Kin found it difficult to look at the woman that had killed her sister.
Passing the bridge to the keep, Únik saw a flurry of activity as smiths, carpenters and stonemasons scurried around, assessing the damage caused by Hatyara's attack. Other than the broken doors and shattered portcullis, no sign of the battle remained. No ice fragments, all melted. No arrows, all recovered and returned to the armoury or discarded.
After a few wrong turns, she found herself back at the compound. Stopping to visit Barsa's body once again, she informed the guards that she would burn her pet upon a pyre, if they could arrange it. They moved to begin preparations immediately.
Ylthara had still not returned from whatever business she had left to perform that morning and Únik began to feel a twist of loneliness. Returning to her room, she found a package upon her bed, tied with a bow of Valka silk, and an invitation, addressed to 'Countess Únik of Tracis' Bay', for another ball, at King Vraniik's request.
Inside the package, she found a dress, made from layer upon layer of the finest Valka silk, even more beautiful than the dress she had worn when she had danced with Ylthara. Another procession of Ūtharan servants appeared moments later and she soon found herself bathed, dressed, scented and her hair styled, and then bundled into a small carriage that took her to the keep.
This time, the grand hall felt different from the ball only a few nights before. It felt more formal, as though something important was on the wind. She stood to the side, uncertain of what she should do without Ylthara's guiding hand. After almost an hour of listening to hushed whispers and gossip from passing nobles, a fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of King Vraniik.
She seemed a completely different person from the few times Únik had met her. Wearing the very finest of Hagragng dresses, her crown upon her head, Vraniik strode to the raised dais where three large thrones sat, covered with flowers and ribbons of all colours.
And, there, at Vraniik's side, a vision in a dress similar to Únik's but with far fewer layers, showing her strong, muscular body beneath the sheer material, stood Ylthara. Únik's breath caught in her throat as she realised how beautiful Ylthara truly was and how much she had fallen in love with the Ice-Kin.
She began to step forward, stopped only by the slightest shake of the head from Ylthara. Despite standing upon the dais with King Vraniik, in pride of place before the assembled nobility, Ylthara looked unhappy. No-one else could tell through her stiff features, but Únik could. King Vraniik stepped forward, raising her hands to silence the crowd.
"My lords and ladies, much has been spoken of the events of yesterday and I do not wish to dwell upon such sad things. Let it be said that it was a dark day for Hagragng and Star Harbour when fanatics can breach the walls of this keep and kill our would-be consort, Prince Hatyara of Alharai." Vraniik paused, looking around the room. She saw Únik, huddled against the wall and gave that sad smile once again. "We have all lost much and will lose more, no doubt, before true peace reigns between Hagragng and Alharai. To that end, Prince Ylthara of Alharai has consented to take the place of her sister as my consort. For the betterment of both our nations and for the promise of everlasting peace."
King Vraniik's speech continued, but Únik could hear no more. A rushing sound filled her ears and she felt an ache in her chest that threatened to break her in two. Clutching her hand to her breast, feeling the star-shaped pendant beneath her dress, she looked up towards the dais and all she could see were those almost-white eyes of Ylthara, framed by her sweeping white hair that fell about her shoulders and her lips that mouthed the words "I'm sorry".
-+-
The pyre had burned low and Únik had said her final goodbyes to Barsa. Now, she turned aside, moving towards the stables and the horse she had asked for. She still didn't like riding, but she would need that horse if she expected to get anywhere in any reasonable amount of time. She checked the strappings and the saddle, as Ylthara had taught her. She had only one more thing to pick up from her assigned room and she would leave Star Harbour forever.
Keeping her head low, preferring to avoid the eyes of the Ūtharans within the compound. Some of those she had ridden with on the journey tried to catch her attention, but she had no heart to speak to anyone. Passing through the doors into the accommodation building, she almost bumped into someone, stepping aside to let them pass, but they copied her movements.
"Únik?" The voice stammered and Únik raised her head to find Ylthara stood before her.
Two guards, one Ūtharan, one Hagragng, stood at the Ice-Kin's flanks in ceremonial armour. Escorts for King Vraniik's new consort. The King's new lover. The binding keeping two nations at peace. In bed and upon a throne by Vraniik's side. Únik's cheeks burned as she tried to sidestep once more.
"I'm sorry, your Highness. I'll get out of your way." A hand fell upon Únik's arm and it was all Únik could do not to snatch her arm away.
"Únik. Don't be an idiot. We ... wait here!" The last two words snapped towards her escorts and Ylthara grabbed Únik's arm, dragging her into a nearby room. Within the room, four soldiers were undressing, readying for their watch. "Get out!"
With strength gained from many years of training and fighting, Ylthara span Únik into the room and waited for the soldiers to leave, still half-dressed, tapping her foot and glaring towards Únik. As the last soldier wobbled through the door, clutching his clothes to his groin, Ylthara spun, slamming the door closed and turned to Únik.
"Don't." Batting away Ylthara's arms, Únik stepped away from the embrace. "I can't do this. I won't. Just let me leave."
"We have unfinished business, Únik. Things we began that have remained on my mind ever since." Stepping forward, Ylthara reached out again, but Únik stepped back once more. The hurt look upon Ylthara's face tore into Únik's heart. "Nothing has to change. We can still be together. This is only a political arrangement. Nothing more."
"Political arrangement? But you'll still share Vraniik's bed whenever she demands it?" She watched as Ylthara began to reply and then closed her mouth, her eyes flicking away. "Of course. I'm not doing that. I have more respect for myself than to be the concubine of a concubine. I want, wanted, you! All of you! I absolutely will not share you. Not even with a King."
Ylthara's hands moved towards Únik again, stopped and fell to her revealing, Ūtharan dress, picking at the material. In the space of one day, Ylthara had changed from outgoing, vivacious warrior, to a prized lover, on display for all to see, in more ways than one. Únik hated that more than losing Ylthara. That the Ice-Kin could change so easily.
"I love you." Sniffing, Ylthara's hands gripped the sheer Valka silk skirts of her dress, making the outline of her pubis disappear from sight for a second. "Is that not enough?"
"No. I love you, too." Únik's fingers ran through her hair, scratching fingernails into her scalp through fear she would reach out for Ylthara and join her in a triangle of ill-fated love. "Sometimes, love isn't enough. Sometimes it's not nearly enough."
They both lapsed into silence, neither daring to look at the other. After long moments, Únik stepped around Ylthara, still avoiding her eyes. If she allowed herself to look into those beautiful, almost-white eyes, she didn't think she could hold her resolve. Instead, she began to open the door.
"What will you do?" Ylthara's voice had become quiet. Mollified. Almost childlike in its tone.
"I don't know." Barging past the escorts lurking outside the door, Únik rushed back to her room and the last items she needed for her journey.
Patting the bag, tied across her chest, she almost smiled to herself. With her black-shafted spear in hand, cleaned of Hatyara's blood, Únik strode to the stables, her head held high. She would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her skulk away like a rejected lover. She would ride from this place with as much dignity as she could muster.
Even though she had checked them before, she made a final pass over the saddle, its straps and the bags filled with supplies. Dropping the spear into a slot upon the saddle, she lifted herself up, placing her feet into the stirrups and turning the horse's head with the reins in one hand. The other hand she held atop the bag across her chest.
"Care for a riding companion? I mean, I'm riding that way, anyway, so you might as well say yes." Bohyiris, upon his own horse, fell in beside her as Únik moved towards the open gates of the compound.
"You don't even know where I'm going. How can you be riding that way?" Únik wasn't stupid. She had worked out who it was that Bohyiris had feelings for not long after he had laughed at the idea of it being Ylthara. Her hand touched her chest and Ylthara's pendant beneath her jacket. "I can't give you what you want, you know. At least, not any time that I can see in the future."
"And I would never ask for it." He had that easygoing smile upon his face that still had a slight dip to it, even though his scars were no longer as deep or harsh as before. "But I would like to see a little bit of that future with you. If I may?"
"Don't get your hopes up." She couldn't help herself. She returned that smile with a warm one of her own.
"So, where to? Back to Tracis' Midden? Uriok?" He pointed in two directions, that were nowhere near the right ones for the Midden or Uriok, with his stump.
"I'm not sure. I think I'd like to see a bit more of the world." The crowds seemed less packed today and they passed through the diminished hordes of various peoples with greater ease than the day they had arrived. Únik looked in the correct direction for Uriok. "I think I've spent enough time on revenge."
A glance showed a raised eyebrow upon Bohyiris' face, but he didn't ask who she had pursued revenge against. She liked that about the Ice-Kin healer. She felt movement in the bag across her chest and she rubbed the surface. A little bark emanated from the bag, forcing another raised eyebrow from Bohyiris. She opened the flap and showed him the puppy inside.
"That's a pretty dog! When did you find time to buy it. Him? Her?" Bohyiris almost reached over, but paused, scowling at the stump of his arm. You can't scratch behind a dog's ears without fingers.
"Vraniik said I could have anything I wanted. I wanted a dog." Únik did have fingers and she scratched the animal's ears, feeling the smooth, thick golden fur of the new pet. "I'm thinking of calling him 'Frianchenzer'. 'Chen' for short."
"A fine name. A strange one, but, somehow, I think it suits him." Watching as the dog licked and fussed over Únik's hand, Bohyiris gave a laugh. "Where would you think up such a name?"
"One day, I'll tell you." She replaced the flap, ignoring the disappointed yelp from Chen. "It involves an abandoned city, lots of rain and a fallen Patron. First, let's get out of this damned city! There's too many people."
Bohyiris shrugged his shoulders and followed Únik as she meandered her way through the streets. She never looked back.
-+-
Epilogue
Risug carried the bread and soup in one hand as he navigated the steps down into the keep's dungeons. Grumbling to himself, he wondered why he, of all people, had received the honour of watching over the only occupant the dungeons had had since the last skirmish with Alharai.
Of course, that sort of thing was behind them all, now. Patrons willing. With King Vraniik taking that pretty Ice-Kin Prince to her bed, it seemed like the days of war and taking hostages were soon to become a memory of more barbaric times.
He saw no downside to that. His own father had given his life in one of those wars. A stupid one, too. Where neither side had gained anything but whole fields full of graves, on both sides. If Vraniik taking this blue-skinned girl to bed put a stop to that, then Risug was all for it.
Which left him, a gaoler without anyone in his gaol. Until a few days ago, when King Vraniik, herself, had sent one prisoner to the dungeons with the instructions to watch her at all times and to show her respect. Respecting prisoners did not come easy to gaolers, but Risug followed his orders to the letter.
Between him and his deputy, Crasig, they had made the prisoner almost feel at home. At least as close to home as a gaol cell could feel. He sniffed the air and realised the straw within the prisoner's cell needed replacing. He sniffed again and then again. He changed his mind. The straw was fine.
He took the last few steps at a much slower pace, placing the soup and bread upon a step and drawing his dagger. With caution, he looked around the corner to see Crasig laid upon the ground, a pool of blood about his head and, what looked like, the broken leg of his stool sticking out from his shoulder.
"Don't worry, he's not dead." Risug felt his dagger knocked from his hand and several blows battered his face, sending him flailing backwards to crash into a wall, stunned. "Now, where's my bow and quiver?"
Looking up, Risug saw the prisoner crouched before him, another broken leg from Crasig's stool in her hand, pointed towards his neck. The prisoner almost had a playful look upon her face. The Silver Birch, bark-like skin almost glistening in the tiny flickers of candlelight within the dungeons.
"U ... up the stairs, locked in the trunk beneath the table." Risug tried not to gulp as the sharp end of the stool leg scraped against his throat. "You won't get away. There's hundreds of guards in the city. You'll be found."
"Oh, I doubt that." The prisoner ran a hand through mahogany coloured hair that looked like thin vines, and laughed. "No-one finds me unless I want them to. Goodnight."
The prisoner flipped the stool leg around and hit Risug with the blunt end. His last thoughts, before falling into black unconsciousness, were that King Vraniik would have his balls for this.
(If you enjoyed this story, please check out the other stories in this series, either by searching for the tag, #PatronsWorld, or through this reading list: https://www.wattpad.com/list/1544232111)