Queen's Hunt (River of Souls 2)

Dzavek gazed at Miro, his chin resting on the curve of his wrist. Like the room, Dzavek was dressed without true color—in gray robes trimmed with darker gray. His long white hair was bound with a matching ribbon. His dark face seemed drawn tight with anxiety, and the cloudy veil over his eyes was more impenetrable than Miro remembered.

Miro knelt and took the packet from his tunic. “Your majesty, I have both good and bad to report.”

Dzavek accepted the leather packet and hefted it. “You took the castle.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

The king nodded. He set the packet to one side and extended his hand toward Miro. Silver rings covered every finger. Miro kissed them. Their gems felt cold to his lips.

“Tell me what happened, Miro. Leave nothing out.”

Miro’s relief drained away. So, here was the test.

Head bowed and kneeling, he delivered his report as he had imagined it while marching through the wilderness. Starting with the moment of departure, he recounted the rapid journey over the seas, through the barrier, and the first sight of Morennioù’s coast.

“We arrived at dawn,” he said. “As you predicted, we found the castle and its docks on the northwest point of the main island. But someone must have given alarm, because we met defenders at the castle gates.”

“The barrier,” Dzavek said. “I warned you that breaking through signaled anyone who listened. So you overcame these first obstacles.”

“Yes, your majesty. Their soldiers fought hard, but we outnumbered them. I ordered the castle surrounded and any fugitives detained for questioning.”

“Then you took the castle and recovered this emerald.” Dzavek nodded toward the leather packet. His tone—cool, almost indifferent—unsettled Miro Karasek. To his ear, it sounded as though Leos Dzavek already knew the invasion’s details.

“The king and his chief mage died in the attack,” Miro continued. “We captured the princess before she could escape. Our search uncovered this emerald. As you commanded, I left Anastazia Vacek to extend our hold on the island, while I returned with Lir’s emerald.”

“Two months ago, Miro. What happened?”

Miro raised his gaze to Dzavek’s face, hoping to read whatever minute reaction the king allowed to escape. He saw nothing but intense curiosity.

He dropped his gaze to Dzavek’s hand, which still clasped his. “A storm sank our ships off the Veraenen coast, your majesty. We brought our launches on shore, to Osterling. I was negotiating with their commander for transport when a … disagreement broke out.”

“But you escaped.”

“I did. Unfortunately, I had to leave the Morennioùen princess—the new queen—behind. The Veraenen took her prisoner.”

He looked up to see Dzavek gazing at him with those strange and clouded eyes. The impression of age was stronger now, lamplight shining through the man’s almost transparent skin, sending shadows of lines cascading over his face.

Like a death mask. Immediately, he quelled the thought.

With a sigh, Dzavek stirred, and the flush of life replaced that mortal stillness.

“I am glad you did not choose to lie, Miro.”

He touched his other hand to Miro’s mouth, his lips moving in a whispered spell.

“En nam Lir unde Toc, komen mir de kreft unde zoubernisse.”

The king’s fingers were hot—unnaturally so. It took all Miro’s discipline to remain still while Leos Dzavek continued to draw the magic into a thicker cloud.

Komen mir de strôm. Nemen mir de swîgen.

Dzavek was releasing Miro from the magic seal that he had set upon him two months before. A green scent filled the room, strong and invigorating. The miles of marching and riding dropped away like the snows in summer. Dzavek spoke another word to release the current, which faded into nothing, taking the spell with it. Only by its absence could Miro tell the difference.

Then it struck him. He knew already what happened in Veraene.

“Your majesty, has Anastazia Vacek returned?”

“No.” Dzavek smiled briefly. “Though she did try to send a messenger. They failed to break through the barrier, Rana tells me. You may stand now.” He retrieved the packet from the table and untied its leather strings. Within, the emerald gleamed with a dark green fire. “Do you believe this is a true jewel? One of Lir’s children?”