“Learned indeed.” She pursed her lips. “Do you know I never read a book twice? I don’t need to. I remember every word perfectly.”
Her tone was so matter-of-fact he knew this was no boast. “So a man with the same skill would have no need to keep a book, a dangerous book. Once read he has possession of the knowledge.”
She nodded. “Perhaps this man was attempting to preserve such knowledge, not destroy it.”
So that was Harlick’s mission. He stole the Dark books from the Great Library. Destroying them to hide their knowledge, first reading them to keep it, protect it. But why?
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” the princess asked. “Who he was. Where you found him.”
“Just a curious incident I witnessed…”
“I know my regard for you is not returned, brother. I know your opinion of me is not high. But my opinion of you has always been based on the fact that you do not lie to me. Your truth may be harsh, but it is always truth. Tell me the truth now, please.”
He met her eyes and was shocked to see tears shining there. Are they real? Can they be? “I don’t know if I can trust you,” he told her simply. “We once did a terrible thing together…”
“I didn’t know!” she whispered fiercely. She leaned close, her tone urgent. “Linden came to me with his mad idea for an expedition to the Martishe. My father ordered me to bless his endeavour. I made no promises to Linden, I did love him but as a sister loves a brother. But he loved me more than any sister and he heard what he wanted to hear. I swear I didn’t know my father’s true design. After all you were going too, and I knew you were not capable of murder.” The tears spilled from her eyes and traced along the perfect oval of her face. “I made my own researches, Vaelin. I know you didn’t murder him, I know you spared him a horrible end. I tell you these truths because you must believe me now. You must heed my words. You must refuse to do what my father asks of you this day.”
“What does he ask of me?”
“Princess Lyrna Al Nieren!” A strong voice. A voice of command. A king’s voice. Vaelin hadn’t seen Janus for over a year and found him yet more aged, the lines in his face deeper, more grey streaking the copper main of his hair, the stoop of his shoulders more pronounced. But still, he retained a king’s voice. They both rose and bowed, suddenly aware of the vast silence of the crowd.
“Daughter of the royal line of Al Nieren,” the king continued. “Princess of the Unified Realm and second in line to the throne.” A thin, liver-spotted hand appeared from beneath the king’s ermine robes, jabbing at the field behind them. “You forget your duty.”
Vaelin turned to see Lord Darnel, crouched on one knee before the royal pavilion. Beyond him the fallen knights of the melee were stumbling away or being carried from the field, Baron Banders in his rust stained armour among them. Despite the servility of his bow Lord Darnel’s head was not lowered and his helm was clasped at his side. His eyes were locked onto Vaelin’s, shining with an intense and disconcerting fury.
Lyrna quickly wiped the tears from her face and bowed again. “Forgive me father,” she said in a tone of forced frivolity. “I haven’t spoken with Lord Vaelin in such a long time…”
“Lord Vaelin does not command your attention here, my lady.”
A flash of anger flickered across her face but she mastered it quickly before forcing a smile. “Of course.” Turning, she held out the silk scarf, beckoning Lord Darnel forward. “Well fought, my lord.”
Lord Darnel gave a rigidly formal bow, reaching up to take the scarf in his gauntleted hand, flinching visibly as the princess withdrew her hand before he could kiss it. Stepping back he fixed his furious gaze on Vaelin once again. “I understand, Lord Vaelin,” he said, anger making his voice quiver, “that brothers of the Sixth Order are forbidden to accept challenges.”
“That is correct, my lord.”
“A great pity.” The knight bowed once again to Lyrna and the King and strode from the field without a backward glance.
“You seem to have aroused the shiny boy’s dislike,” the King observed.
Vaelin met the King’s gaze, seeing that same owlish calculation he remembered from their first hateful bargain. “I am used to being disliked, Highness.”
“Well we like you, don’t we daughter?” the King asked Lyrna.
Her face was expressionless as she nodded, saying nothing.
“Possibly too much, it seems. When she was little I worried that her heart would prove too icy to allow attachment to any man. Now, I find myself wishing it would freeze again.”
Vaelin was unused to embarrassment and found it hard to bear. “You sent for me, Highness.”
“Yes.” The King held Lyrna in his gaze for a second longer. “Yes I did.” He turned and gestured to the pavilion door. “There is someone I should like you to meet. Daughter, please stay and try to remind the assembled commons that, despite appearances, we are in fact their betters.”