Gemma exhaled. “But Katya didn’t …”
He shook his head, laughing bitterly. “No, she didn’t. My mother felt she would be nothing more than a distraction. Convinced that the daughter of a bar wench could never carry the gift of the goddess, she had handed my newborn daughter over to one of her maids to raise. But the maid brought her back to my mother, terrified, when Katya began to do mage work before her first birthday.
“Of course, my mother thought this was a sign from the goddess herself. No child in recorded history had begun mage work so young. So she took her back to the Vagan Palace and raised her as her own. Five years later, my mother brought Katya to Yigris and assumed all would be forgiven. But it was too late. I was in too deep, and I’d already …” His voice shook with emotion. “I’d already fallen in love with you. The only thing I could do was find a way to protect you and Katy and hope that someday you’d understand.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Elam entered carrying a tray laden with food. He smiled when he saw them, then said, “I thought you promised to stay in bed.”
“I am in bed,” she said.
“Yes, well …” he chuckled, putting the tray down. “I’m not sure that anything going on in here could be considered restful.” He arched an eyebrow at her, then pointed at the tray. “Eat. Both of you. We have some royal company, and I think you might need your strength for this.” He turned to go, then glanced over his shoulder at them. “Take your time,” he said, grinning. “I’ll stall him … somehow.”
Tollan could barely breathe as he sat, facing Elam, their hands clasped together across the small table. Every nerve in his fingers sang at the other man’s touch, and he found that he could feel the whirls and grooves of Elam’s fingerprints upon his skin. It could have been moments or hours that they sat like that, a soft, sensual tension building between them as they snuck glances at one another. Tollan couldn’t help but remember the feel of Elam’s lips against his own, a feeling that he had dwelled on nearly every waking moment since they’d first kissed.
Dragged out of his reverie, Tollan stood up when Gemma and Devery entered the kitchen, yanking his hand from Elam’s in a gesture that felt like tearing off a piece of himself.
Gemma grinned when she saw Tollan, then glanced across the table at Elam.
“Well,” she said, sitting down in the vacant chair, “that explains quite a lot.”
Tollan opened his mouth, but Elam erupted in laughter. “Welcome back, Gemma,” he said. “We’ve missed your smart-assery.”
Tollan doubted he would ever have the sort of careless banter that the three of them tossed around. Even Wince couldn’t read his mind that way.
“How are you, Your Grace?” Gemma asked, sitting herself gingerly in the chair.
“I’m not the king, Gemma. Never was, and to be honest, I never plan to be. I’ve come here on behalf of my mother, Isbit Daghan, captain of the Heart’s Desire.”
“And what can I do for Captain Isbit? It’s been a long time since the lady graced our gentle shores.”
“Well,” he said, “my mother wishes to help you quell a pirate uprising and get rid of the Vagans, and in return, she asks for the throne.”
Gemma barked out a laugh. “Oh, is that all?”
Tollan recoiled, but Gemma leaned forward. “Tell me about this uprising.”
When Tollan had finished telling them what he knew, Gemma stood up, her eyes flashing. “Bloody Riquin Hawkbeard,” she snarled, slamming her hand onto the table. “Goddess damn him and his obsession with his eerie prickling facial hair!” She stood up, then wavered on her feet.
In an instant, Devery was across the room, and Elam was out of his chair, both of them reaching to support her. She threw her hands in the air. “I’m all right, damn it!”
Elam slunk back, but Devery stood his ground. A look passed between them, and Tollan felt as if they were holding an entire conversation, though neither spoke. Finally, Devery shrugged in resignation and returned to his post against the wall.
“Now then,” she said, beginning to pace the kitchen slowly. “Where were we? Ah, yes. I’m going to gut that little bird-loving bastard and tie him onto his own mast.”
Elam burst into laughter. “Prick!” Gemma grinned. “I’m the goddess-damned Queen of Under until I choose not to be, or until someone kills me.”
“That isn’t going to happen,” Devery said.
“Prickling right it isn’t,” Gemma snapped. “What is he thinking?”
“Apparently, he just couldn’t resist the siren’s song of a city in chaos. He sent a hundred messenger gulls out to recall the entire fleet on the very night you proclaimed yourself. Told Isbit that when he heard the King Above was dead, too, he knew it was a chance for change. He said it was time that the pirates ran things for a while.”
Elam picked up where Tollan left off. “Isbit thinks he’ll move soon, since the last of the fleet has just arrived. He’s holed up at the Belly Up, so it’s hard to say exactly when he’ll get bored there and decide to come for you, but he knows you’ve been ill, so he’s sure to use that to his advantage. We’ve managed to keep the truth of the mage women quiet to keep panic to a minimum. We spread some well-placed rumors about Farcastian assassins and strange devices that might be attributed to the makers of Far Coast. Under knows something unnatural is going on, but up to this point, we’ve kept the details secret.”
“And how exactly did he find out she’s been ill?” Devery’s eyes were ice.
“I’m not sure,” Tollan said. Though now that he thought about it, it was possible that he’d been speaking to Lian about Gemma’s health where some of the urchins could hear. But he’d keep that information to himself.
“It doesn’t matter. He already knows.” Gemma looked at Elam and said, “I need you to find Lian and get me a restorative. If she doesn’t have any, she’ll know where to find the herbs. I’m going to need quite a bit.”
Elam stood. Devery took hold of his arm. “Don’t tell Lian who it’s for,” he said, sharing a glance with the other man. “You know how she can be about …” He gestured to Gemma.
Elam laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m going to tell her it’s for me! I’ve been running this city ragged for days.” He grinned, then looked at Gemma. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t do anything stupid without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, matching his smile.
As he walked past, Elam brushed Tollan’s arm with his fingertips and a thousand shivers ran up and down Tollan’s spine. When he looked back up, Gemma was grinning at him.
When Elam was gone, she turned back to Tollan. “Now,” she said, as if she’d been waiting the whole time for Elam to leave, “how much assistance can I expect from Lady Isbit?”
Tollan shrugged. “I hardly know my mother anymore. But I can say that she has her mind set on Above, and I’m not sure she gives two shits about whether Under survives or not.”
Gemma paced the room, nodding and rolling her neck as if she were arguing with herself. Then she stopped, ran a hand through her spiky hair, and said, “Okay. We take Riquin when he doesn’t expect it, make a very public scene to deter any further unrest and then make a move on the palace. Efficient, smooth and if it pleases the goddess … not too bloody.”
Devery nodded, his gaze hard as iron. “But just bloody enough.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE BELLY UP
The street outside the Belly Up was clear, thanks to a well-placed whisper here and a coin in the pocket of an urchin there. Gemma watched from the shadowed alley as Elam strolled up to the door of the tavern. A handful of drunken sailors lounged on the front stoop, mugs half-filled and eyes half-lidded.
As he climbed the steps, Elam said, “I’m looking for Becka Bright-Eyes. Is she inside?”
One sailor smirked, his eyes bloodshot. “You’ll have to wait in line, there, prayer keep. Becka’s got quite a queue.”