A Dance of Ghosts

CHAPTER 29

It was a meeting Alyssa could put off no longer. She went to her room and sat down on the bed beside Nathaniel, who’d been waiting there per her request.

“Is everything all right?” her son asked. Alyssa wrapped the boy in her arms, holding him against her as she struggled for the right words.

“It will be,” she said. “I promise, it will be.”

That was it; she had nothing more for him, but she’d wanted him close for a moment, to remind herself why she did what she was about to do.

“Go on,” she said. “And tell one of the servants to find Lord Victor and show him to my room.”

“Yes, Mother,” Nathaniel said. He slipped off the bed, and she heard his feet pad across the carpet to the door. It creaked open, he spoke softly to someone, and then silence. Alyssa sat amid it, trying to keep her heart steady.

“Zusa?” she asked. “Are you there?”

Only more silence. Good. She didn’t want Zusa near, not for this. That would come later. One struggle at a time.

The door opened, and she heard a man clear his throat.

“Milady?” asked Victor.

“Shut the door,” Alyssa said, hands squirming in her lap. Victor had been visiting nearly every day since he’d come with Antonil’s help to free her from John and Melody’s imprisonment. She now did her best to greet him warmly, but still she felt uncomfortable in his presence. Too much of his true self remained guarded, and what she could glimpse was tainted with frightening zeal.

When the door was shut, she heard his heavy footsteps lead toward her, then pause in the center of her bedroom. He had nowhere to sit, and she knew he would not be presumptuous enough to sit beside her on the bed.

“Matters appear to have settled down significantly,” Victor said after clearing his throat. “Muzien has not repeated his spectacle at the marketplace, and what information I can gather shows him carefully guarding anyone who pledges money to him for protection.”

“Such a benevolent ruler,” Alyssa said, unable to hold back a bitter smile.

“There’s some truth to that, sadly,” Victor said. “But we know better. His extortions are far from extreme, his greed bearable, because it’s not coin he wants. It’s power. If we bend our knee to him and offer coin for protection, does it matter if we give one or a thousand, so long as our knee is bent?”

Alyssa shook her head, thinking of how the elf had sneaked into her room. He treated everything like an amusing game, and they were but interchangeable pieces. When Victor had come to her after Melody’s death, he’d tentatively suggested paying the protection money Melody had promised. He’d been so nervous, so fearful to offend, it had made Alyssa laugh in his face.

A show of strength meant nothing if she could not back it up. There would be a time to resist the elf, but it wasn’t now, with her house in shambles. If she was to make enemies out of an elf who, by all accounts possible, now ruled the entirety of Veldaren, she’d do it when victory could be hers.

“Have you heard any rumblings from John Gandrem?” she asked, trying to push Muzien from her mind and talk on matters more immediate.

“None so far,” Victor said, and by his footsteps and moving voice, she could tell he was pacing. “He’s still upset, to be sure, but more that you’d question his honor. He really did feel he was doing what was best, but now that Melody is out of the picture, he’s willing to let bygones be bygones, you might say.”

Alyssa sighed. She’d thought about executing John for his part in everything, but Victor had insisted she hear him out. John had calmly but firmly declared his respect for her and his love of her son. Everything he did, it’d been lawful and just, and had he not ordered his men to stand down come Victor’s attack to free her? Given her drastic lack of allies, Alyssa had allowed him to escape without major punishment, though she’d still banished him from ever setting foot inside her home again, as well as promising no further contact with Nathaniel until he came of age. It was a slap on the wrist in her mind, but at least it didn’t seem John was actively trying to replace her, nor spreading foul rumors or hateful speech.

“Victor,” she said, trying to find the right words. She sensed him straighten up, as if he too sensed the importance of what she sought to say. “After everything that’s happened … are you still willing to fight against the guilds?”

Victor cleared his throat before answering.

“I am,” he said. “Perhaps not in the way I started, but my resolve has not broken.”

Alyssa rose from the bed, and she walked in the direction of his voice, hand outstretched. His hand touched her arm when she neared, as if letting her know of his position, and she then put her fingers against the side of his face. She used it to see him, to remember the blue of his eyes, the strength of his stare. A man who would refuse to allow even death to deny him success. A man fueled by a righteous fury.

“Let me hear you say it,” she said. “Tell me Muzien will not destroy us. Tell me you’ll have his head on a pike before the gates, along with all others of the damn guilds that have torn our lives apart.”

“I swear it,” said Victor, and his tone gave her chills. “I swear it on the grave of my parents, swear it on the lives of every single one of my men who’s died bringing them to justice. Their time must end.”

“And my son,” she said, voice softening. “Would you protect him as well?”

It seemed he was beginning to understand what was happening, and he took both her hands in his.

“He’s a smart lad, kind and honest,” Victor said. “I would be honored to raise him as my own.”

Alyssa took in a deep breath. This was it, then. Her decision was made, her heart committed.

“Then I wish to accept your offer of betrothal,” she said.

“Wonderful,” he said, then after a pause, “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

She wished she could feel the same. Not that she’d expected love and romance to be the reason for a marriage, not since Mark Tullen’s death and Arthur Hadfield’s betrayal years ago, but this felt less like the joining of equals and more like her attaching herself to a train of horses stampeding down a hill.

“Indeed, truly wonderful,” Alyssa said, not bothering to fake any enthusiasm. “I’ll contact Terrance and have him begin the preparations for a wedding. I’m sure he’ll be in touch with you as well, in regard to any customs or requests…”

“I do have one,” he said, interrupting her.

“You do?”

Another hesitation.

“Your … pet. Zusa. I would know just what she is to you and what she will be to me.”

Zusa? wondered Alyssa. What does he mean?

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Victor pulled back from her hands yet remained before her, hovering in her mind’s eye.

“She has never hidden her disdain for me, and I am no fool to the power she wields. Against my wishes, she murdered your mother. Melody deserved a trial, Alyssa, a chance to explain herself, a chance for us to see if anyone else was pulling the strings behind her strange ascension.”

“I understand, but she only…”

“She does what she wishes,” Victor said. “Or she does what you command. I must know, Alyssa. Is she a servant? A soldier? Your protector, or something more?”

Alyssa’s mind scrambled as she tried to think of the proper answer … or even one that was true. What was Zusa to her?

“Zusa has been with me since the very beginning,” she said. “She’s the truest friend I have ever known.”

Victor’s heavy hand fell upon her shoulder, and she sensed him leaning closer, felt the heat of his words lightly brushing her face.

“You don’t get to have friends, Alyssa. Not with your position. Not with your power. If I am to enter your household, it must be as an equal. Zusa may stay, but as a servant, obedient to both your orders and mine. Is that acceptable?”

She knew the answer she had to give, and it put a fire into her stomach. Grabbing the front of Victor’s shirt, she yanked him closer, brushing aside his hand from her shoulder.

“If I do this, you best pray to the gods you succeed,” she said. “I want Nathaniel to stand atop the graves of the guilds. That’s all that matters now, and if you can help me achieve it, I will reward you with everything I have. But if you fail…”

“If I fail, then you may let Zusa herself remove my head and present it to you on a silver platter. Is that acceptable?”

Alyssa fought down a grimace.

“It is,” she said.

“Then there is no sense in wasting time,” he said, and his footsteps headed toward the door. “I’ll send for her while I inform Terrance. You may tell her while I am gone. Make her understand, Alyssa. My request is not so great, not so peculiar. There will be dozens outside our home walls wishing to have me killed. I’d rather know for certain there are none within the walls of our home as well.”

The door shut, he was gone, and that was that. No happiness. No celebration, discussion over plans, who would move where, what would happen to the Kane family holdings. Not even a kiss on the cheek, just moving from one business to another.

Her father would have been proud.

The minutes crawled on as Alyssa sat back down on her bed, feeling more nervous than she had in years. She ran words through her mind a hundred times, trying to find something, anything that sounded right. It never did.

The door opened, far quieter than when Victor had come, and then a wrapped hand touched her own.

“You called for me?” Zusa asked.

Alyssa’s teeth clenched. She had to say something, anything. Nothing would be right, nothing would work nor convey her frustration and sorrow, so she just said it as plainly as she could.

“I’m marrying Victor,” she said.

Zusa’s hand on hers tensed, the woman’s sudden apprehension immediately apparent.

“Are you sure that is wise?” she asked.

“Wise?” Alyssa laughed. “The wise path is for me to lie down and die, letting Muzien conquer our city, all while praying Nathaniel somehow endures the following chaos. No, it’s not wise, but it is what must be done. Another war against the underworld is coming, and I cannot fight it on my own, and neither can Nathaniel. Someone must wield the sword for me, and Victor can be that man.”

“I could do it,” Zusa said. Her grip on her hand tightened, so much it nearly hurt. “I can lead your mercenaries. I can protect your home. You don’t need Victor. You don’t need to throw your lot in with that madman.”

“You?” Alyssa said, and the words were like fire in her throat. “You have no name. No home. No heritage. You’re just one of the monsters in the shadows, Zusa. No mercenaries I hire will show you loyalty. No nobles will accept your power. Victor gives this legitimacy. If he adopts Nathaniel as his own, it gives him a chance of inheriting the Gemcroft fortune without a thousand vultures circling. Nathaniel will come from the Kane family line, a true lordly heritage. No longer a bastard. No longer the shameful seed of the destroyed house of Kull.”

“He is your son. What legitimacy does he need beyond that?”

“You know better,” Alyssa said, and she felt her heart hardening. “Don’t pretend you don’t see it, that you don’t hear it. Nathaniel’s my wounded child, the child of a woman most think lost her mind years ago. They don’t respect me, and they don’t respect him. We’re not what this damn world wants. But someone like Victor…”

Zusa rose from the bed, and Alyssa could only imagine her standing before her, fingers curled into fists. Were there tears in her eyes? There were none in her voice … not yet, at least.

“Victor won’t give you what you want,” she said. “This risk you take…”

“Answer me this, Zusa, and answer it truthfully,” Alyssa interrupted. “Do you feel Victor is a danger to my son if we were to marry? Do you think he is a danger to my own life?”

A long pause.

“No,” Zusa said. “I think he favors Nathaniel and would treat him as his own son. As for you … betraying you would be beneath him. I think he views himself as more honorable than that.”

“Then what else matters, Zusa? Nathaniel will have a father, and more importantly, he’ll have a future. Veldaren’s gone to shit, and if we’re to endure, we need the help of someone like Victor.”

“You never needed anyone before. You once flooded the streets with fire and steel, and you were unafraid.”

Alyssa remembered those two nights, remembered the pain she’d felt.

“I was turning Veldaren into my own personal funeral pyre,” she said. “That wasn’t strength. That was recklessness. I can’t afford to be so reckless now. Muzien would have my head the moment he sensed betrayal. But if we’re patient, if we plan, if we coordinate with Antonil and Victor and my own forces…”

Zusa’s hands wrapped around hers. They were soft, and she felt the distinct touch of her unique wrappings about them.

“Please, Alyssa, I beg you,” said Zusa. “Don’t do this. Don’t put yourself at his mercy.”

“There’s more,” Alyssa said, trying to ignore the ache in her friend’s words. “If we marry, you must promise to respect and obey Victor as you would myself. That is his only demand.”

“Like a servant,” Zusa said, and there were finally tears in her voice.

Alyssa hated herself, hated every word she spoke, but what choice did she have?

“Yes. Like a servant.”

She’d have given everything to see Zusa’s face at that moment, to witness her reaction, to see if the wounds she felt she caused were as deep as she feared.

“As you wish, milady.”

Silence stretched out, ended by the slamming of her door. At its sound, Alyssa broke, tears running down her face, a sob escaping through her clenched teeth. It shouldn’t have been so hard. It was a simple request, damn it! Zusa was more than a servant, more than a friend, but could she remain so once Alyssa married? Once she slept in Victor’s bed, once the holdings of their families merged and Victor took on the Gemcroft name, what then would Zusa be to her? All Zusa had to do was listen, and trust her … but deep in her heart, she knew it unfair to demand that of her friend all while refusing to give her the same trust.

Minutes crawled, and she slowly wiped her face clean. She’d known marrying Victor would be difficult, but she’d never guessed the difficulties would start so soon. As she regained her composure, she heard the door open, and Alyssa turned away, a meager defense against her own indecency.

“Yes?” she asked with a quavering voice.

“It’s only me,” Victor said. He said it so softly, so gingerly, it made a mockery of the stern, proud man he’d been only moments ago. “Did Zusa take it well?”

She almost told him the betrothal was over. She almost screamed for him to leave her home, leave her life, to go marching back to his wheat fields and leave Veldaren to burn and die without his help. Things could return to how they had been, just Alyssa and her son, cowering in their home while the Darkhand claimed street after street, always watching, always waiting to see if any would betray his dominance. But just as she would not surrender to Muzien’s fear, she refused to surrender to her guilt.

“No,” she said, elaborating no further. Victor sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, and she nearly laughed at his touch. Here was her future husband, and she felt not the slightest attraction, not the tiniest excitement at having his hand upon her. Only dread and a sickness to her stomach. He tried pulling her close, but she resisted, and thankfully, he did not seem offended.

“I’m sorry,” Victor told her. “Perhaps if I talked to her, we might reach an understanding…”

“Give it time first,” she said. “Just give us both time.”

His hand squeezed, and she allowed him to pull her against his side, allowed him to offer his meager comfort.

“The pain will pass,” he told her. “And if she is the friend you believe her to be, she will come around. Remember, there are risk and pain to every grand accomplishment, and I assure you, yours will be grand indeed.”

“What accomplishments?” she asked. “Burning down a city to avenge the death of a son who still lived? Losing my sight to a confused, sickly boy? Or being overthrown by my own mother? Which accomplishment of mine will be written into the chronicles of time?”

“Forget your past,” he told her. “The future is all that matters. Here in this city, we have an opportunity to rise above our failures, rise so high we will salvage something from this horrid mess. I have dreams for you, Alyssa, dreams you have denied yourself for far too long. With me at your side, you may become what you were always meant to be.”

At first, she thought he meant the crushing of the thief guilds, but it felt wrong. He spoke of something else. Something … grander.

“What dreams?” she asked. “What is it you would have me become?”

She felt his breath against her neck, his lips nearing her ear.

“I would make you a queen,” he whispered. “Your little son would become a prince and, one day, a king. Tell me, is that not a legacy worth fighting for?”

What he spoke was treason, and ridiculous to even think possible, but something about the way he said it, the way he believed it, made her response catch in her throat. Her son … king?

“How?” she dared asked.

“In time,” he told her, and he took her hand in his. It was larger than Zusa’s, rougher, and she found herself missing the other woman’s touch. “But imagine how much better the city would be if you sat on the throne. If someone strong like you, or like me, could look upon the corruption and despair and denounce every last shred of it all. What city could we create? What nation? Think of the legacy we could leave for your son to inherit.”

It wasn’t a game, and it wasn’t a dream. Victor meant it, and he carried such conviction, there must be a way.

“Queen,” she whispered, imagining a crown on her head.

“Queen Alyssa,” Victor repeated. “And Prince Nathaniel.”

King Victor Gemcroft went unspoken, but the name lingered in the air, and she knew it was in Victor’s eyes, on his lips, and buried deep in his heart. It was madness. It was insane.

But if it wasn’t?

This time, when Victor pulled her close, she settled into him, feigning happiness at his touch, her mind trying to wrap around what it might mean to rule a kingdom. She thought of the armies she might command, the wrongs she could make right. She imagined the pride in her chest as her son ascended to a golden throne while all the lords and nobles who had mocked him behind his back were forced to bend their knees and bow their heads.

Prince Nathaniel Gemcroft …

Such a beautiful name.