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Ethelyn's Vision

Chapter 16

Etienne took a sip of tea and set the cup almost absently on the saucer. A terrible ache in his chest had been bothering him all afternoon, to the point that he found it difficult to listen to what King Damon was saying. The king of Poston had remained at Wychowl long after the ball, deciding to seize upon the opportunity to discuss his alliance with Etienne in person. He sat across from Etienne as they took tea in the garden, resplendent in a black and red tunic complete with a golden sash, as the dogs of Poston wore fashions a bit older than the standard waistcoat and cravat worn in Varimore. Damon was a tall, black, wirehaired Pointer with sharp, penetrating black eyes and a mass of curly black hair he wore loose if not attending a function. He was not as large nor as imposing as Etienne, but he was very close. Kings were bred to be large and intimidating, and Damon was no exception. He sat straight and somehow elegant, one leg crossed over the other, his big paws folded on the napkin spread over his lap, his eyes fixed on Etienne. He was waiting for an answer, but Etienne was rubbing away the pain in his chest.

Beauceron slaves walked back and forth in the sunlight, tending to the flowers, plants, and birdbaths scattered throughout. Etienne watched as one climbed a ladder into the branches of a tree, a basket on his arm to collect the fruit there.

King Damon cleared his throat. "Etienne . . ."

Etienne looked around, frowning and rubbing his chest. "I'm sorry. You were saying something about Yfel, of all things." He gestured wearily at Decius, who stepped forward and refilled his cup for him.

"I was," Damon said, frowning with concern as he watched Etienne. He had brought his own slave with him, a tall and solemn male Akbash, white as snow like all Akbash, with soft gray eyes and a slender, toned body. His name was Icarus. Icarus and Decius had been exchanging glances all afternoon, and it irritated Etienne to no end.

Icarus stood quiet and still behind Damon's chair, carrying a wrapped bundle in both paws. He wore a gold collar with diamonds sparkling around the band, and from the collar extended a leather leash. The leash lay across the tight thighs of the Poston king, and Etienne silently wondered how many times Damon had pulled that leash when Icarus was pleasing him.

Damon's dark eyes were still fixed on Etienne when he gently tugged the leash. "Perhaps it is time I told you everything. If we are to become allies, it seems only fair - come, Icarus."

Etienne watched as Icarus came forward and carefully laid the bundle on the table. At Damon's lazy gesture, he slowly unwrapped the bundle to reveal a glass dagger. Etienne went still. It was an exact duplicate of the dagger he'd been keeping in Wychowl for twenty years, the dagger Zeinara had stolen before her disappearance. . . . the dagger that had separated him from Azrian. It wasn't real Skkye Glass. He knew that immediately. But damned if it didn't look like the real thing.

"It is a decoy," King Damon said, "created by my ancestors to fool would-be thieves. There was a time when we of Poston had one of the daggers in our possession. Like you, we kept it locked away and guarded night and day, but unlike you, we were clever enough to lock away a decoy. My ancestors kept the real dagger in the bedroom."

Etienne cleared his throat uncertainly. "How do you know about . . .?"

King Damon's dark lips lifted at one corner in a smile. "Every ruling family knows, Etienne. How the foxes tried to kill Hildrith'el. How they were punished. Your father would have told you if . . .well." He cleared his throat apologetically. "In your father's absence, it was Donica's duty to have told you. But of course, she chose not to. Keeping you ignorant made it easier to control you, I imagine. What would you do if you knew Hildrith'el was on your side? That she would likely bow to your smallest whim?"

"What exactly was Donica supposed to tell me?" Etienne asked darkly.

"When Hildrith'el set your ancestor to rule over the world of the foxes, the other gods jumped the bandwagon, if you will. It is a long-kept secret that every ruling family across the nine kingdoms descends from the champion of a fox god. The queen of Krodor reveres Kutre, the goddess of compassion. The Carringtons are guided by Ayni. The Morvells of Idria honor the goddess Maret. Until Maldoene was conquered by the Kildares, the Kingsleys ruled that kingdom and belonged to Ti'uu, though they have forgotten their worship of him by now. As you are no doubt aware, the king of Varimore took pity on the Kingsleys and gave them Howlester when they were driven from their home." He waited.

Etienne didn't know what to say. He supposed he should have seen it coming. "So . . . every ruling family secretly worships fox gods, and yet they kick and scream like they've soiled their swaddling when I outlaw the Hunt?"

King Damon chuckled. "They don't view them as 'fox gods,' Etienne. And worshipping said gods does not mean they should care for the foxes, though some of them do, do not be mistaken. We were sent to rule over the foxes, Etienne." He shifted in his chair, his eyes on the dagger as he smoothed his paw up his thigh. "Our religion teaches us that much, and that much is true. It is widely believed in Poston that we were meant not only to rule the foxes but to merge with_them. That scholar your grandfather exiled? He was too close to unearthing this long-kept and _ghastly secret," he said, smiling in silent amusement at his fellow dogs and their need to hide the truth. "Dog-foxes would have covered the whole of Aonre, creating a new species that was as magical as foxes but as docile as dogs - and would never again dare to defy the gods."

Etienne thought of Zeinara, his dog-fox child, and all he and Judith had discovered in one ominous book. The gods were still trying to start a new species. Even while some gods seemed to oppose the idea.

"So who does your family revere?" Etienne asked.

"We honor She of Madness."

"Ah. Yfel." Etienne sat back, thinking of Mogethis and Nkwe, who were actually from Poston. He looked at Damon and laughed flatly. "You know . . . She of Madness attacked my lands twenty years before. Not seeing how this information is _strengthening_our new alliance."

Damon smiled. "I have done all I can to assure his majesty that Poston is at his side. I have sent troops to patrol and secure your forests from further fox incursions, weakening my own military force to strengthen yours --"

"Or perhaps to spy," Etienne said calmly and regarded the Poston king with an intent blue eye.

Damon laughed softly and tilted his head. "I take it back, your majesty. You are far more shrewd than the newspapers would have one think."

"Ah . . . thanks. I think. So . . ." Etienne lifted his teacup and peered inside it. "What did your spies learn? That I am worthy enough to become your ally?"

"That is exactly what they have learned, actually," Damon admitted freely. "You are worthy enough to become Yfel's ally. No doubt your subjects whisper that my daughter is cursed or some rubbish. No. She is blessed. Blessed of Yfel. Most believe she speaks nonsense, but she speaks the future. I didn't just come here to warmonger against Curith, Etienne. I came here to warn you."

Etienne shook his head and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and touching his fingers in a steeple. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, wait, wait."

Damon lifted his brows and waited. Behind him, Icarus watched Etienne curiously, but his eyes flitted to Decius and he smiled.

Etienne bowed his head and looked at his steepled fingers. "You spent years protesting against me, were publicly allied with King Louis, spoke out against my reforms at every turn, and now you come to me and drop a dagger on my table and expect what? For me to forget the past and just swallow all this? I'll admit it: I'm desperate for allies at this point. I'd welcome the bloody desert kingdoms if they sent ambassadors. But this . . . this is a bit much."

Damon shook his head. "I know how to play the game, your majesty, and forgive me, but it is clear you do not. Or at least you didn't twenty years ago. My opposition and my 'allying' with Louis was an elaborate facade to keep myself and my family safe while I waited for you to gather enough allies to pose a real threat to Curith. Lest you've forgotten, I was blamed for the death of my brother and his child and thus in need of an ally like Louis, but we both know who _really_killed them."

"You said it was Hellene," Etienne said, peering over his fingers at the king. He shrugged. "I can believe that much."

"Then you would be wise," the Poston king returned with a nod and his nostrils flared angrily. "Hellene married my brother out of pure spite. She wanted to anger Ayni by marrying a disciple of Yfel. And it worked. Ayni had the child killed. Hellene was absolutely crushed, but she returned to Varimore to seduce you, as she had been ordered. No doubt she believed it was her destiny." He snorted and took a drink.

Etienne looked at Damon steadily. "And the two of you weren't lovers?"

Damon sneered. "Lord, no."

The king of Poston looked so disgusted by the very suggestion that Etienne decided to believe him. He sat back and rubbed his chest. The pain was slipping away. Finally. _ _

"After my brother was senselessly murdered, I took the burden of his crown. I had to make nice with Hellene's father, pretend to hate foxes, and keep Curith from finding an excuse to attack us. After all, Hellene could have said whatever she wanted," Damon said with a shrug. "She could have returned to Varimore and told Donica - or even you - that I had killed her child. She could have urged you to demand satisfaction and protect her honor. And you being high king, well, how could I refuse? I needed an ally like Louis. I _needed_her father in my pocket. So when Judith came to visit a few years ago, I was still wearing that mask."

Etienne looked at the handsome black king, and noticing the bags that were under his eyes, he realized Damon had been longing to say these things in person for several years now. It wasn't exactly information he could put into a letter, not even in code. And Etienne had been so suspicious of Damon for so long that he'd made every excuse to send ambassadors in his stead to every function to which he was invited. He looked at the king of Poston and felt a sudden guilt weighing on his shoulders.

As if sensing Etienne's discomfort, Decius stepped forward and refilled his teacup for him, something that had become a silent gesture of affection, a way to remind Etienne that he was not alone. Etienne glanced at the Beauceron gratefully and took a drink. Several mastiff bodyguards stood nearby, keeping servants and courtiers at bay, so that Etienne and Damon's private conversation remained just that.

"Judith was right about a few things, of course," Damon said after a pause. "She didn't lie to you. She could only make sense of what she could see from her own skewed perspective. I took many measures to keep Ethelyn from Judith because the girl has a way of . . . how do I put it delicately? Raping foreigners. I suppose that's as delicate as it can get."

Etienne went still. "She what?"

Damon smiled sadly. "Ethelyn was born with both a penis and a vagina. It is considered a blessing among those who worship Yfel, as it occurs so rarely in beasts. It's believed such beasts have Yfel's favor. When Ethelyn goes into a trance, she gains incredible strength and sometimes rapes whoever is near. She raped her brother once when she was sixteen, though - thank the gods - neither of them remember that particular horror. She also raped one of her guards in his mouth, and the poor bloke let it happen rather than hurt her in some attempt to subdue her. We kept the girl in a tower for years until the sleepwalking and assaulting started to wane . . ." He took a sip from his teacup and shook his head, gazing off wearily.

Etienne laughed weakly. "And I thought I had problems."

"I can assure you, Etienne," Damon said gravely, "that Sterling is a healthy, emotionally stable young boy who would never harm a hair on Zeinara's hide. He would love her and respect her, as his mother and I raised him to. He has none of Yfel's blessed madness."

"That would be good to know," Etienne said wearily, "if my daughter were even here to marry him." He looked off, caught somewhere between anger and worry. Little knots twisted in his stomach every time he thought of the last conversation he'd had with Zeinara, the way he snapped at her, the way she went running from the room - running to Nkwe. He, Nkwe, and Mogethis had been struggling for years to keep the truth from her. It was painful to talk about Taiga. It was painful to know that Asres was likely dead. It was painful to look at Zeinara knowing he'd never even loved her mother, that he actually loved someone else, and that he hadn't even wanted her to be born. But he looked at her and he loved her, and that was all that mattered. At least to him. She wanted so much more. She wanted the truth. She wanted everything. And now . . . she was probably dead somewhere. And it was his fault.

"Have you heard from any of the search parties?" Damon asked with concern. He waved at his teacup and Decius stepped forward to refill it.

"Not in weeks," Etienne said heavily. He felt the pain twist in his chest again and knew something was wrong. Something had happened. Perhaps Zeinara had been stabbed. Or worse.

"Zeinara couldn't have gotten that far on her own," Damon assured him.

"That's what troubles me," Etienne said unhappily.

"I can not apologize enough for this business with Ethelyn," Damon said over his teacup. "Ethelyn can barely write her own name. Whoever was writing those letters . . . You say it was Louis but you realize, of course, that it could have been Prince Adrian just as easily?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Etienne said darkly. "Adrian's sister was murdered and he could be seeking revenge. They say it was by some servant. A coach driver or some other. But rumors have been circling for years. Some are even saying I sent an assassin, though how I could have done so when I wasn't even _in_bloody Wychowl at the time is beyond me."

Damon laughed flatly. "Stranger things have happened."

"I'll drink to that."

"So you believe Adrian could have orchestrated the scandal as payback for Alexandria," Damon said thoughtfully. His face darkened. "I wouldn't put it past the bastard. You know he's technically ruling Curith now, of course? King Louis became withdrawn after his wife's death. He is old. Feeble. He sits in his chambers day in and day out and won't receive visitors. I paid him a visit last year, some mad attempt on my part to reason with him. He's always had a grudging respect for my family. I thought I could bargain with him. His grandson Florian is still a bachelor, and while the boy's a little mad, he could have married one of my daughters, perhaps Ethelyn. What's a little madness to me? And if the rumors are to be believed, Florian likes dick any damn way. Had Louis agreed to an engagement, it would have made it easier once the two were married to keep him from antagonizing Poston, and by extension Varimore, once I had sided with you. I suppose he suspected that, though."

Etienne snorted. "So you never actually saw King Louis?"

"No."

"Then how do you know he's even bloody alive?" Etienne pointed out.

Damon shook his head. "May the gods help us all if Louis is dead."

Etienne stared at him. "You're joking, right?"

"No. I'm afraid I am very serious. Louis may have puffed out his chest and ranted back and forth about invading Varimore, but he was never going to do it so long as his sister was on the throne. Unless you have forgotten, Etienne, that alliance was formed in the first place to keep the peace. Then Donica, his favorite sibling, was murdered. Then Alexandria, his favorite child, was murdered. Then his wife died mysteriously only a few years later, and he reportedly went mad, babbling about some fire or some other. He lost all interest in invading Varimore years ago, Etienne. We would do well to keep him alive and in control. But Prince Adrian is already seeing to that, it seems."

Etienne stared at his teacup, silently wondering what progress Nkwe and Captain Franklin were making. He'd sent the captain of his guard to search for Zeinara, Mogethis, and Robin with a small number of mastiffs, no more than three. Nkwe had insisted on going, as he was worried for Zeinara and Mogethis, and Etienne didn't see any reason to stop him. It was probably safer for Nkwe to go than to stay regardless, as all of Varimore seemed to believe Nkwe and Mogethis had conspired to kidnap the princess. The story had spread like wildfire that the "wicked white fox" who'd lurked at Wychowl for years had suddenly gone mad and snatched Robin and the princess of Varimore right from the middle of the ball. No one seemed to realize that Zeinara had, in fact, disappeared on her own days _after_Robin was abducted.

Jonathan had been so beside himself with fury that he charged Etienne to find his daughter or risk exposure. If Captain Franklin did not return with Robin in a fortnight, Jonathan was going to tell all of Varimore that Mogethis was actually a criminal and one of the ringleaders in the fox incursions that had taken place in Varimore twenty years before. All of Varimore would demand the vixen's head, Nkwe's as well, and Etienne would be pressed to execute the two or face the hatred of his own subjects. Etienne glared at his teacup and silently cursed Jonathan.

"Perhaps now you understand why I have made a move to ally myself with you," Damon said. "I know that King Louis is no longer in effect. I know his brat Adrian will never concur to peace. Adrian wants revenge for Alexandria. He has some mad notion that Jonathan killed her and fled with Corene."

Etienne tensed. Jonathan and Corene had actually confessed to having been there when Alexandria died, but to this day, they both swore innocence regarding her death. And Etienne in turn swore to protect them should Curith decide to make demands on Varimore for their lives. Howlester was under his direct protection, and he'd even gone so far as to send a number of mastiffs to join the duchy's legion, though it seemed to do little to alleviate Corene's fears.

"You were going to tell me something," Etienne remembered. He lifted his gaze from his teacup and regarded Damon.

Damon nodded. "Indeed, I was. There were two things, actually. The first, I'd like to purchase Decius from you."

Etienne went still, and behind him, he heard Decius' small grunt of surprise as he also went still.

Etienne frowned. "Whatever for?" Though he saw the coy look on Icarus' face and thought he had an idea.

Damon smiled. "It seems Icarus has taken a liking to your slave, and I don't blame him." He glanced at Icarus, who was standing beside his chair, and smoothed an affection paw down the slave's muscular back.

Icarus cast his eyes down and blushed prettily.

"I caught the two of them, uh . . ." Damon smiled at Etienne. "Engaging in certain acts . . ."

Etienne's eyes hooded irritably, and he glanced reproachfully at Decius. Decius bowed his head in shame, and Etienne felt guilty for his anger. It wasn't as if he and Decius were married. It wasn't as if he and Decius were in love. Decius loved Etienne the way a pet loved its master. Decius loved serving Etienne and guarding Etienne and . . . pleasing Etienne. But he was not in love with Etienne. For the first time in his life, Decius had a real interest in someone. Someone he could love. Etienne didn't want to take that away from him, but at the same time, he wanted to be selfish. Decius was his comfort and had been a steadfast companion since he was a teenage boy. But he looked at Decius and didn't know how to say no to that face.

Etienne cleared his throat. "Is this what you want, Decius?"

Decius dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to Etienne's thigh. "Not if it displeases you, my king," he whispered.

Etienne sighed and touched the slave's glistening black mane, the many jewels on his fingers winking in the sunlight. "It would displease me if you were unhappy. Tell me what you wish."

"I wish to stay here," Decius whispered, "until Princess Zeinara is returned to us."

"I will send you on later then." Etienne looked at Damon. "Sound good to you?"

Damon shrugged. "I'm in no rush to return to Poston. I rather feel like I'm on holiday, far away from the troubles of court life." He smiled and took another sip of tea.

Etienne nodded. "Then it's settled, I suppose." He sighed. "You had something else to tell me?"

"Ah, yes." Damon set down his tea, and Etienne didn't like how grave his face became. The Poston king folded his paws on his crossed legs and said somberly, "You have a son."

Etienne's ears pricked forward, but he barely heard it when his teacup tumbled from his fingers and shattered.