Read Online Destiny by Fiona McIntosh - Free Book Online Page B

all that she could. Now the time was hers to be with Lorys, and she was glad that Gyl and Saxon had cleared the chapel to provide that peace for her. Tomorrow this place would be a hive of activity—the King’s body would be cleansed and prepared for viewing and the palace would be dressed in full mourning. Poor old Cook would already be stoking up her fires to prepare the funeral feast which Gyl was also masterminding.
    Having ticked everything off in her tidy mind, Alyssa finally allowed herself to pull back the purple satin sheet which covered the near-naked body of a man she loved very much. His face was untouched…in death it seemed he had found serenity at last, reflected in his peaceful expression. His body, however, told a different story. It was charred and burnt. One particular area on his chest was a ghastly black and shrivelled; all the hair on his strong arms was singed. ‘Dead before he hit the ground.’ She recalled Herek’s powerfully descriptive words. ‘He did not suffer. But he knew he would die. Knew he was a marked man.’
    Now she understood part of the first messenger’s words; a personal communication from the King for her ears only. She recalled how the little man had arrived wet and exhausted having outrun the storm to reach Tal. Alyssa had folded his cold fingers around a cup of steaming broth and urged him to give her his private message from the King.
    ‘Your majesty. His exact words to you are: Forgiveme, my love, for leaving you. Find your own people. Free them. Save Tallinor.’
    She had looked at the man with curiosity, not comprehending any of it. He too had shrugged, forgetting himself momentarily in the presence of his sovereign.
    Her expression had creased in puzzlement. ‘That’s all he said?’
    The messenger nodded. ‘He commented to me, your majesty, just before he chose those words, that he had begun to dream. Then he gave me that message; said you would understand.’
    ‘I see, thank you, Hawse. You’d better away to your rest now…and thank you, for reaching here under such circumstances. King Lorys will reward you, I’m sure.’
    The man had nodded and then left her with her thoughts. What had Lorys meant? It was cryptic. The first part she understood better now. It was as though Lorys had foreseen his own death. But finding her people? That was such an odd thing to say, for her people were of Tal, like his. Free them? None of that made sense to her. Mind you, saving Tallinor was very much on her mind after the heartbreaking arrival of Tor Gynt back into her life. Could Lorys have foreseen Orlac? Unlikely. But then with the mention that he had begun to dream, anything was possible, if that wretched Lys was involved.
    Alyssa lifted the purple sheet to his neck so she could gaze on his fine face and no longer look at his damaged chest—the chest she loved to lay her cheek against. The first tear rolled down that same cheek now; it was the start of a torrent she would cry that night as the impact of his death began to penetrate and shatter the shield she had built around herself that day.
    She wept hard, silently wiping her tears away until her own linen was as wet as the cheeks she vainly tried to dry.
    As her sobs finally eased, she noticed the candles had burned down and several hours had passed while she had clung to her dead husband’s body. During this time of intense grief, her thoughts had crystallised —Alyssa was convinced the gods were punishing her. The death of a husband and a child, both of whom had returned from the dark. Then the man she had learned to love deeply and with whom she had begun to build a life now lay before her, dead. It was too much grief for one person to bear. Still, her resolve hardened and she now knew what it was she had to do.
    She whispered to the spirit of Lorys, wherever it was. She hoped it had lingered long enough to hear her words.
    ‘You can join Nyria now, my beloved. She awaits you. I am pleased that your hearts can be