“Marriage need not be a match of love,” Agnes said, swallowing. “But it is an arrangement that may benefit both sides. The Master of Blood was wed to Meriope for similar purpose. To restore concord, to make amends. Your son will have a wife of most noble pedigree, and through that, a line to the Crown. My spurning of Childeric set this woeful turn in motion. Allow me now to make it right.”
Thrasamund continued to stare at her intently for a moment, before looking to Liuprand. Something unreadable glimmered in his stare. “And what do you, my prince, think of the lady’s terms?”
Liuprand’s blue eyes were limpid yet impassive. Yet another moment passed before he said, “The lady is wise and sincere in all things. I can assure you that this offer has been made in good faith.”
“Hmm.” Thrasamund steepled his hands. “If this has the prince’s sanction…but, Lady Agnes, you understand that this marriage will come with the same requirements as any other, despite the extraordinary circumstances. I have no other son. Childeric remains my heir; even in this state, he will someday wear the title Master of Eyes. And so it is necessary that he himself produce a male child that will continue our line.”
Agnes dug a fingernail into her palm. “Yes, my lord,” she said softly. “I understand.”
“Well then,” Thrasamund said. He rolled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, as a soldier to be fitted with his armor. “This is a most unexpected offer, but I will consider your terms, lady. I cannot agree to such an arrangement hastily and without deliberation. I should ask the prince if he will allow my retinue to stay at Castle Crudele for several days, while I ponder this offer.”
Liuprand looked surprised at being addressed, blinking as if he had just been roused from slumber.
“Of course, my lord,” he said, in a stiff tone. “You will have lodging here for as long as it takes you to decide.”
Thrasamund turned to his men, mouth opening as he prepared to direct them; Childeric’s nurse dabbed again at the spittle dripping down his chin and stroked back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. The tenderness of her touch made Agnes’s eyes sting, and reminded her that she had not yet fulfilled her purpose here. Clearing her throat, she said, “Lord Thrasamund, there is one more thing…”
He froze at once, gaze narrowing. “Ah, I should have known that there would be further demands made of me. Your cleverness cannot be doubted, and neither can your artful wiles.”
“No,” Agnes said. “This is no attempt at trickery. It is only…a question.” She paused and allowed a moment for her chin to quiver, so that when she spoke her voice did not shake. “I mean to inquire about the well-being of the lady Meriope.”
Something in Thrasamund’s gaze now shifted—an emotion that Agnes could not discern; it was gone again quickly, like a silver fish briefly surfacing from the water before darting back down again. His lips flattened into a cold sort of smile, and he said, “My grandson is no brute.”
“I did not mean to imply such,” Agnes said hurriedly. “But for the sake of my cousin, her mother—I know she wishes to hear news of her daughter.”
Thrasamund’s smile gained a keener edge. There was anotherquicksilver flash in his eyes, only now Agnes recognized a bit of private amusement in it, one that made the hairs stiffen on her neck.
“The Lord Gamelyn would not be so cruel as to leave a parent in despair over the welfare of their child,” he said. “The princess is not ignorant of her daughter’s fate, I can assure you.”
Slowly, Agnes nodded. Yet still she felt a chill, and gooseflesh prickling the length of her arms. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “That is all I wanted to know.”
“Then I should like to take my leave now.” He glanced pointedly at Liuprand. “I will reflect on today’s turns and give my answer soon.”
“Yes,” said Liuprand. His voice was vague now, his gaze unfixed. To the Dolorous Guard, he said, “Go, all of you. Show Lord Thrasamund and his retainers to their chambers. Ensure they are comfortable; tell the kitchens to prepare food, should they want for it. Then close the barbican, and return with haste to your posts.”
XXII
The Chains of Desire
Gone was Lord Thrasamund and his contingent; gone were the men of the Dolorous Guard. The great hall of Castle Crudele was empty save for its prince and his mistress. Agnes was trembling, and now she could not lie and say it was only from the cold. Her cheeks were too flushed with the heat of blood.
Yet Liuprand would not look at her. He stared only at the threshold where Thrasamund and his retinue had vanished, his bright gaze driving into the darkness of the corridor. Agnes felt, for perhaps the first time since she had come to be his lover, a pricking of fear as she regarded him. But she did not fear for her own well-being—she feared what Liuprand might do to himself, what tortures he might inflict upon his person, maddened by grief.
“Please understand,” she began, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Please—you can see why I have done this.”
Agnes felt his muscles stiffen under her touch, and, at long last, he turned. His face was shockingly pale, all of his puissant golden aura gone white. His eyes were rimmed with tears, unfallen.
“I cannot see, Agnes,” he said lowly. “Just as I cannot see any future that is empty of you. That is no life, for me. It is a form of posthumous existence at most. If you are gone—” He choked. “—then so is all my reason for being.”
She could not look at him without tears leaping to her eyes, as well. “Please,” she managed again. “Do not speak such, I cannot bear it. Your pain is the only thing that might sway me from my course.”
“Then let it sway you!” Liuprand’s voice rose suddenly to a shout,and he grasped her tightly by the shoulders. It was not rough enough to hurt; he could never hurt her, even in the blackest of rages, but it was unexpected enough that Agnes gasped. “Let it drive you from this wretched and hopeless turn! You would doom us both to unending misery.”
“No,” she tried, weakly, “it is only that…I can see no other way to make this right again. Thrasamund has rejected every other entreaty. And worse, your name has been sullied, your legacy tainted—all in defense of my honor.”
“I carenothingfor my legacy,” he bit out. “I care nothing for the decrees of men. It is no more than the mindless grumbling of sheep and swine. Let them brand me with any epithet they wish, for good or for ill; I do not care. Let Liuprand of the House of Berengar die, and let me rise again, reborn for the sole purpose of your veneration. That is the only worth of my life.”
Agnes shook her head fiercely. “It cannot be so. All your life you have labored selflessly for the betterment of the island, for the well-being of all who live upon Drepane. I will not have this be for naught.”
