This chapter has been done for a while, but we've not heard back from our (overworked!) beta. We're going to go ahead and post! It's short, but this is the correct length for it.

Dichotomy: Majesty
Chapter Eleven: Discourse

Palace Cadell

Cycle of Edda, The Nobility Conference

“Lord Blackwatch,” the Fourth Companion warned calmly, though not without a tone of authority, “you can’t kill a Swa’Cadell.”

Kier’s hands relaxed, though he didn’t let the small man in his grip go. He knew, the instant Pedr Swa’Cadell’s back struck the gleaming stone wall, that he’d erred horribly. Kier didn’t usually allow his temper to override his good sense, but every instant in the palace walls sent more anger and fear digging under his skin. His mind whirled instantly with proper repercussions for his rash action, as well as with scenarios in which this played out as a trap laid by the king. He said nothing. The First Companion didn’t look away, but faced his assault with the strange calm shared by the Fourth.

“Pedr,” the Fourth Companion urged, “tell him.”

Pedr swallowed, the movement of his throat showing infinitely more concern than the rest of his body. “A servant died as well,” he said. “She was a good woman.” His eyes closed for an instant. “They died knowing it was my fault.”

The Fourth Companion, Bryan, placed a warning hand on Kier’s arm. “Let him go.”

“Don’t touch me.” The words came out flat, more as a warning than a threat. Kier was wrestling his power under control, and touch could sometimes draw his abilities toward a person. This was one of the reasons high ranking telepaths rarely touched others, or engaged in promiscuous sexual encounters.

“Let him go.”

The muscles in Kier’s arms relaxed and Pedr’s feet touched the floor. He looked so small and nondescript that Kier couldn’t help but feel a moment of shame for engaging the king’s Companion physically. However, memories of the First Companion, nearly invisible at the king’s side at every moment, kept him from stepping away. “Why did you do it? Wynn was innocent of any wrongdoing.” Kier didn’t have to hide anything in his voice; Wynn had done nothing wrong, in loving her country over her king.

Pedr nodded slowly. “I know,” he said. “In any true form of justice, the Major did nothing wrong.” So great was the difference in their sizes that Pedr’s face nearly pressed against Kier’s sternum, and he had trouble looking up to meet the larger man’s eyes.

“Back away.” Something pressed hard against Kier’s chest, like an invisible hand shoving at his sternum. Kier stumbled backward a few steps as the unseen force dissipated into a soft gust of air that sighed down the empty hallway. “He was trying to help,” the Fourth Companion said, his voice soft and calm.

Pedr shook his head. “It was my mistake which allowed him to happen,” he argued, his expression unchanging. “I bear the responsibility for the outcome. I told them they would be safe. I didn’t take all the necessary steps to insure that was true.”

Some of the sharp fury in Kier’s chest, so quickly born of his months of unstopping guilt, released its hold on him. “What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his heartbeat and breath under control with pure force of will and silently berating himself for the obvious mistake in laying his hands on the First Companion. Bad enough to place himself in danger, but it was unforgivable to do the same to Adrian.

For the first time, Pedr looked away, and the military line of his shoulders slumped slightly. “They were in danger. I told them I could assist them in escaping, though they didn’t know that I am the eldest of the Swa’Cadell at the time. I had dealt with them while in disguise as an ordinary palace servant.” He swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders, lifting his gaze again. “I enlisted help to do so, but someone reported them, and their subsequent capture granted the king his excuse to have them executed before they could reveal the origins of the attacks on the border and at the Blackwatch Estate years ago.”

The Fourth Companion’s voice sounded slightly comforting. “We were under a tight time constraint.”

Kier frowned. “You were trying to help them?” He couldn’t read them, due to their connection with Odran, and their faces gave nothing away. He didn’t trust them. “Why?”

“We didn’t want the truth to die with them,” Pedr said. “I didn’t know you knew of Janvia’s new weapons until the doctor was interrogated.”

Something in Kier’s chest tightened into a knot. If the First Companion knew that Kier was aware of the Janvian weapons, then the king, who almost never appeared in an official capacity without Pedr at his side, must also know. “Why,” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, “would you tell me any of this?”

Pedr paused a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “I was there when Doctor Oswald was interrogated,” he said, “and I was there when you were interrogated after your return from Janvia. I was also present at the questioning of Major Osbearne and his Companion. There are threads of lies that trap the country within the status quo.” He glanced quickly at Bryan and back again. “It’s time some of the truth was revealed.”

“You are the person most directly affected by these lies,” the Fourth Companion added, “as well as a respected man of both land and military power.”

“You’re the king’s Companions. I can’t just trust you.”

Pedr raised his hands to the level of his eyes, slipping the mask into place with the ease of long familiarity. “We understand that,” he said. “But now things are happening that even I don’t know all the details-”

The Fourth Companion’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Others are coming,” Bryan warned, though Kier didn’t know how a Duilian would know that. The strange pressure that had filled the hallway when Bryan put up his shield seemed to release

Pedr nodded once, sharply. “We have to go. The king will want to speak to you soon. Be extremely careful, and aware that he knows you were present and injured at the Janvian test side over the border.” He and Bryan moved as one, all but gliding down the hallway as a lady and her Companion turned the corner at the opposite end. The lady lowered her head slightly with the awkward deference offered the Swa’Cadell.

Adrian leapt to his feet, chunks of porcelain clinking against each other as they fell to the floor. “I’m sorry!” he blurted, trying to pluck shards from his skin. There was a deep gash along his left thumb, and slick blood made the small, sharp edges hard to grasp.

“Oh my,” Kaitlan said mildly as she rose slowly from her chair, “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Adrian said quickly. A couple of the smaller cuts were sealing shut, and he didn’t want her to see. He shifted his hand so more of the blood from his thumb spilled over his fingers.

Kaitlan took his left hand in both her small, soft ones. Used as he was to the rougher palms of Kier and others who worked with their hands, Kaitlan’s almost silken fingers felt strange against his skin. “Let me help,” she soothed. Tara knelt carefully plucked a sliver from Adrian’s right hand, then frowned as the edges of the torn skin slid together and sealed shut.

“They’re healing already,” Tara murmured softly.

“Are they?” Kaitlan watched as another little slice closed, leaving only a sliver of fresh pink skin in its wake. “That’s interesting. I thought you were a fire Companion?”

Adrian’s mind raced, but there simply wasn’t a convenient explanation. “I am,” he answered, “but . . . I’ve always healed quickly, is all.”

Kaitlan’s light, soft touch instantly took care of his other minor injuries. “That’s generally the sign of a healer, not a fire user.”

“I’m not a healer,” Adrian whispered. His head ached abysmally, pounding at the temples as he attempted to keep his emotions in check as well as ignore the dull throb of Kier’s strange anger against his own. He pulled his hands away and grabbed for one of the fine cloth napkins resting on the table. He twisted his hands in it, partially to dry them and partially to hide his quickly recovering wounds. “I’m really fine,” he assured the women.

Kaitlan watched him carefully. “Whatever happened?” she asked with an oily sort of concern. “Did I upset you?”

Adrian shook his head, trying not to allow his expression to broadcast the lie. “No. I was trying to heat the tea up some and went too far.” He forced a smile. “I’m afraid I’m something of a clutz.”

“Would you like a fresh cup?” Tara murmured.

“No. Thank you. I guess I ate too much of the fruit they had in the Companions’ Hall.” Adrian looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Tara clearly saw through Adrian’s attempts at hiding his upset. “We know it’s upsetting about Lord Blackwatch,” she murmured, touching her small hand to his arm and looking up at him, “but the two of you are close, and it seemed only fair for you to be aware of his past. I’m sure he would have trouble sharing it.”

Adrian tried to look appreciative. “It’s good for me to know.”

Kaitlan stood, twitching her long skirt away from the puddle spreading across the floor. “We’ll have you escorted back to your quarters so you can change.”

Adrian stood as well, setting down the napkin but keeping his hands bunched up together. “Thank you,” he said to her back as the Second Companion seemed to glide across the room and knock on the door before opening it.

“Escort Companion Blackwatch to his rooms and thence to the Companions’ Hall,” she ordered the tall, dark servant standing guard just outside the door.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the man boomed. Kaitlan stepped aside and allowed Adrian to pass her in the doorway.

“Thank you for lunch,” Adrian told both women, bowing somewhat awkwardly at the waist.

“Of course,” Kaitlan returned. “And please, let your mind ease. I’m certain that his lordship has recovered. Time heals, as they say.” She did not sound as sincere as she no doubt meant to. Adrian set his teeth, thanked her, and walked quietly into the hallway.