The Fanged Crown

CHAPTER TWELVE

1 Flamerule, the Year of the Ageless One

(1479 DR)

Kinnard Keep, Tethyr

“I’m so sorry about your wife, Declan,” Ysabel said quietly, reaching out and resting her fingers lightly on Cardew’s hand. Cardew gave her a sad smile and her small fingers a quick squeeze. “When did she die?”

Before Cardew could answer, Tresco coughed into his napkin. Excusing himself, he reached for a glass of water. Cardew turned back to Ysabel. Her cheeks were pink from the warmth of the fire. He hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and she still wore her long blonde hair in a girlish braid down her back. It was very becoming, but an unusual choice for a nineteen-year-old who would be marrying soon.

“She grew ill on the journey to Chult,” Cardew said. “She died our first night on the island. It’s been almost a year. I still think about her, of course.”

“Of course,” Ysabel said. “What was the jungle like? Was it horrible?”

“And how did you ever manage to survive?” Tresco asked. “I heard the colony was attacked by wraiths.”

“No, no,” Cardew said, shaking his head. “Nothing that … supernatural.”

Ysabel and Tresco waited patiently, but Cardew was quiet for an overly long time.

“You don’t have to give us details,” Ysabel said. “I shouldn’t have pressed you. It must have been dreadful.”

Cardew nodded gratefully. For months, rumors had circulated that every colonist had been slaughtered in Chult, including the Hero of the Realm, Declan Cardew. His unexpected and miraculous return to the Court of the Crimson Leaf had caused much excitement among the nobles of Tethyr. How Cardew alone had escaped death and returned home with only a bruised head and a gaunt frame was not yet clear. When pressed, Cardew was a bit hazy on the details of what exactly had happened to him in the dark jungle.

“I heard Queen Anais ordered you to convalesce in Hulen,” Ysabel said, reaching for her glass of red wine. The black-haired serving girl came through the door with a silver tray and laid bowls of thick broth before them.

“Yes, but it had been so long since I’d seen you,” Cardew replied. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

“We thought you were going to arrive two days ago,” Tresco said.

“But we’re just as happy to see you now, aren’t we, Uncle?” Ysabel said hurriedly. “How long do you plan to stay?”

“Several days, if you’ll have me,” Cardew replied.

“Of course,” Ysabel said happily. “Just as you said, it’s been an age since we’ve been together.”

“Yes, how long has it been?” Tresco asked, tapping his finger against the edge of his china bowl thoughtfully. “I believe it has been almost two years.”

“Has it really?” Ysabel asked. “I remember fondly those nights that we played Scaffold Knights. And what was that other game you liked? Routacelle, wasn’t it?”

“You won nearly every game,” Cardew said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“I don’t remember that,” Ysabel protested. “You won far more than I did. Perhaps we can have a game after dinner. The set is around somewhere.”

“Maybe another night,” Cardew replied. “I’m afraid I’m not up to my former glory. You would slay me for sure.”

“I like the orderliness of the game,” Ysabel mused. “You know who your enemies are. There’s no deception.”

“Games were your favorite pastime when you were young,” Tresco interjected. “I could barely keep you at your studies.”

“You were away often, Tresco,” Cardew said. “I would come to visit Bella, and you were at the academy or wherever your studies took you.”

“Yet it was so hard for you to break away from court,” Tresco countered. “You had so many responsibilities. We rarely saw you. But we understood, didn’t we, Ysabel?”

“I was so concerned for you, Bella, in the years after the massacre,” Cardew continued. “You were very much changed from the lively little girl I once knew.”

“Those were dark years,” Ysabel agreed. “You both were a great comfort to me.”

“Did I ever tell you that I’ve been to Chult?” Tresco said abruptly.

“Have you?” Cardew asked. “No, I didn’t realize that.”

“Yes, I went on an expedition with a group of scholars from Candlekeep. We were searching for a type of poisonroot with healing properties.”

“Uncle has the most interesting stories about the jungle, Declan,” Ysabel said. “Tell the one about the giant lizard. That story gave me nightmares for days!”

“Oh, I don’t intend to bore Cardew with my tales of adventure,” Tresco said. “After the death of his wife, I’m sure the jungle is a horrible memory.” Blushing, Ysabel looked at the floor in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “My tongue gets away from me.”

“It’s no trouble,” Cardew reassured her. “Your uncle is just thinking of my welfare.”

“The soup is cold,” Tresco declared with distaste, throwing his spoon into the broth, which sloshed onto the tablecloth. “I’ll tell the cook to bring us something else.”

Throwing his cloak over his shoulder, Tresco swept out of the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, Ysabel stood up. Lifting her skirt to her thighs, she straddled Cardew and hugged him tight around the neck.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

“Ysabel,” he breathed as he clutched her back. He could feel the bones of her rib cage through the silk of her dress. “I’ve thought of you constantly since I left.”

Gripping the back of his chair, Ysabel pressed her body down against his until he took a shuddering breath.

“No,” he said. “Not when Tresco could walk in.”

“Did you bring me something special?” she whispered coyly, her lips brushing his ear. “Did you bring me something from the wilderness?”

“I’d go to the ends of the world to get you whatever you want,” he said. She cupped his face in her hands.

“Did you bring me anything?”

“I brought you another spellbook,” Cardew whispered, gazing up at her. “I’ll leave it behind the tapestry the way I used to.”

“And I’ll reward you, the way I used to,” she promised, pressing her face against his neck.

“You make me … desperate,” he told her.

“When can we be together?”

“Soon,” he promised. “Soon you’ll be my wife.”

Ysabel kissed his mouth hard. Then she pushed away from him, smoothed her skirt down, and sat primly in her chair just as Tresco swung open the door.

“Cardew was just asking me about the portraits,” Ysabel told Tresco, pointing to the wall at the collection of ten paintings, all of Evonne Linden. There was Evonne as a child, sitting on a swing under a massive oak tree. Evonne at her wedding feast, the day she married Garion. Evonne standing in the marble hall outside the judges’ chambers in Darromar. “I told him that it had been our personal project. We hired the best painters in the realm, didn’t we Uncle?”

“Indeed,” Tresco said heartily.

“I didn’t know Evonne liked horses,” Cardew said dryly, looking up at a painting of Evonne riding a chestnut stallion.

“Well, you didn’t know Evonne well at all, did you?” Tresco replied, motioning impatiently to the servant who had arrived with plates piled with lamb. “Did I ever tell you that it was Evonne who gave me the idea of exploring Chult in the first place? She had done all sorts of research on the sarrukh and said they had wealth beyond imagination in the ruins of their …”

As Tresco droned on about gold plates and copper goblets, Ysabel gave Cardew a secret smile. Cardew maintained a perfectly calm facade, but inside his chest, his heart was pounding.