Her head was reeling. This was supposed to have been her moment to shine, to show her mettle, to stand up for her city and her country. She had only succeeded in showing how weak she was. Azai Dravos had gained the upper hand and her only choice now was whether or not to marry some foreigner to save her people from the Khurtic hordes.
Odaka opened the door to the chamber. When he saw Janessa was in distress he ordered Merrick and Kaira to leave, demanding they tell no one about this.
Janessa read the concern on Odaka’s face — he knew that she had failed utterly, that she had tried to act as a true monarch and had been found wanting.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said, her voice as small and hesitant as it had been when she had first taken her father’s crown and declared herself the Protector of the Free States. ‘Dravos demands my marriage to his foreign master. He will give us what we need to save the city and the Free States in return for my hand.’
‘A complicated situation,’ Odaka replied. ‘Especially now.’ He glanced down to her stomach and she understood his meaning immediately.
She laid a protective hand on her belly. ‘How long have you known?’
Odaka paused, as though he were somewhat embarrassed. ‘Not long. But there is little that happens within these walls I am not aware of.’
Of course he would know; little got past Odaka Du’ur. That was why her father had entrusted the running of the kingdom to him.
She sat down on the bed. Part of her was relieved that he knew, part of her ashamed. Janessa was surprised when Odaka sat down on the bed beside her and gently took her hand.
‘There are important decisions to be made,’ he said. ‘I will help you in any way I can, but I am no longer regent and the final decisions are yours alone. Are you able to make them?’
When Janessa looked at him she saw compassion in his eyes. She would have embraced him, but knew that would not be appropriate. Though Odaka was a man she could confide in, he was not her father. Already he bore more than his share of state responsibilities. She could not burden him further,
‘I am able,’ Janessa replied. ‘Azai Dravos made his demands clear — a marital union with his master in return for the wealth we need.’
‘What was your response?’
Janessa thought back to Dravos’ eyes, to the feeling in her belly when he had moved closer. Was her revulsion because she was with child or … something else?
‘I said I would need to think on it.’
‘As you should,’ said Odaka. ‘But this might not be as cursed an offering as it seems. A swift union and consummation will explain away the child that grows within you. Your heir will still be a noble of the Free States and inherit the throne. No matter who its named father is, we both know they will be of noble lineage.’
Janessa realised Odaka’s mistake immediately. He assumed the life growing inside her had been put there by Raelan Logar. Right now she did not feel able to disappoint him with the truth.
‘But what of my people? What of their fealty if I were to marry some foreigner with no claim to the Steel Crown?’
‘If you do not seal this bargain there may well be no city, no Free States, left. Do you think the people would rather have a foreign king by marriage, or an Elharim tyrant by conquest?’
Janessa knew the answer, but still could not bring herself to admit it. This was what she had tried so hard to avoid from the start. She had rejected Raelan and Leon for the love of another man; a commoner, a killer. Now it seemed she must wed some wealthy foreigner she had never seen, solely for purposes of state.
‘I will need to think on it further,’ she said.
Odaka stood up. ‘Then I suggest you think fast, my lady. The child within you grows by the day. The hordes to the north draw nearer even as we speak. Whatever decision you make I will follow, but you must make one. And soon.’
With that he left her alone. Janessa stared after him, absently placing a hand to her belly.
Could her city be saved without the aid of the Bankers League? If she rejected Azai Dravos’ offer, she would still have to explain the birth of an illegitimate child. Should she choose Leon as husband instead? She was sure his mother would jump at the chance and never question the legitimacy of the grandchild.
Whatever her choice, it had to be a swift one.
Amon Tugha was fast approaching and it seemed there was nothing that would stop him.
TWENTY
Nobul had no idea how long they’d kept him down in the dark. Then again, it wasn’t the dark that bothered him. It wasn’t even the fact they’d kill him eventually, and they would kill him, any simpleton could work that out. It was just a matter of when and how.
What hurt him most was being helpless to do a fucking thing about it. That he was going to die helpless as a pig on the butcher’s block.
He hadn’t realised how much he’d had to live for until they caught up with him. For too long Nobul had wanted to punish himself for what happened to his son. He’d wanted to put himself through shit to try and cast off the guilt that hung round his neck like an anvil. But now he was here, now they’d got him and the punishment had started, he knew that wasn’t really what he wanted.
What Nobul Jacks really wanted was retribution. To hurt someone. To cause pain. To destroy.
Those old days of blood and slaughter in the levies, when he’d waded through guts, deafened by the screaming — that had been when he’d felt truly alive.
Nobul didn’t want to be punished — he wanted vengeance.
But it looked like fate had robbed him of that one, showing him its arse as it ran on by. Didn’t look like he had a shot at revenge anymore. Didn’t look like he had a chance at much of anything now.
It was a shame. He’d have loved to get his hands on Anton. That miserable little bastard had it coming. How much coin had they paid him? What had they promised him to be their man in the Greencoats? If Nobul ever got out of here he’d make sure Anton regretted the day he’d ever heard of the Guild. But then the chances of him ever getting out of here in one piece were pretty slim.
There was a creak of wood, a deadbolt snapping back, and Nobul instinctively drew his legs up, tensing his shoulders trying to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t know how long he’d been chained to the post but he felt the aches and pains of it. He knew what was coming and the tighter a ball he made of himself the less of a kicking he’d have to take.
Light crept into the cellar and he squinted through it, hearing someone coming down the creaking stairs. Eventually he could make out a face he recognised.
‘Rise and fucking shine,’ said the figure through the gap where his front teeth should have been. He placed the lantern and the bucket he carried down on the ground, then gave Nobul a vicious kick. ‘You’re on soon. Waiting’s over. Been sent to clean you up.’ Before Nobul could react, Toothless picked up the bucket and doused him in freezing cold water.
Nobul gritted his teeth against the shock, breathing hard as his heart suddenly pounded against his chest. Toothless moved behind him and pulled him up on his feet. His arms were still chained to the post, but he gave one last tug anyway — one last pull to see if he could free himself. It was never going to happen.
‘There,’ said Toothless. ‘Awake now are we?’
Nobul didn’t answer, just stared with hate at the bastard’s ugly face. Without warning Toothless hit him in the gut. It wasn’t the hardest or most accurate he’d ever had — a good gut punch could knock the air right out of you — but it still hurt.
‘I asked a fucking question,’ said Toothless. ‘What have you got to say?’
Nobul grinned. He showed his bloody teeth through his split lips.
‘I’m gonna kill you,’ he replied.
Toothless took a step closer, but not too close. Nobul expected another punch to the gut, but Toothless just smiled back.