Fool's Errand (8 page)

A movement by the window caught her eye.

The king!

Overcome by a sudden attack of nerves, Persephone gasped and dropped into a curtsey so low that her legs promptly gave way beneath her.

King Finnius strode over and stood before her. “It is good to see that some things never change,” he said lightly as he extended his hand toward her.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” squeaked Persephone, who was so nervous that she ignored his proffered hand in favour of scrambling to her feet like a slave girl who'd just been knocked off her milking stool.

“Henceforth, when we are alone together you must call me Finn,” said the king, turning his head aside to cough.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” agreed Persephone, even though she could no more imagine calling the king by his given name than she could imagine flying to the moon.

Except … except that he wasn't just the king.

He was her brother, her twin, her
blood
.

Looking up into his eyes now, she realized that although they were blue and hers were violet, they were the same shape as hers and fringed just as thickly with dark lashes. And his hair was the colour of hers, and his nose was the masculine version of her own, and—

“I cannot believe that you are my sister!” he burst.

“I know!” blurted Persephone, who hung her head before adding, “And, uh, I want you to know that I apologize for—”

“Entering my palace with the intent to cause mischief?” he suggested. “For enjoying my hospitality under false pretences? For allowing me to believe that you were bereft at the untimely death of your pretend husband? For attempting to run away without a word of farewell? For causing the son of the most powerful nobleman in the realm to be kicked in the head by a deranged horse?”

Persephone bit her lip against the urge to explain that broken-down old Fleet wasn't so much
deranged
as he was madly in love with her. “Yes, I apologize for all of those things,” she mumbled, acutely embarrassed by the laundry list of her misdeeds.

Seeming equally embarrassed, the king mumbled, “I loved you, you know. I'd even intended to ask you to marry me.”

Persephone was mortified beyond words, for although she'd always thought of King Finnius as handsome, sweet and kind, she'd never, ever,
ever
thought of him in “that” way. Even when Azriel had grumbled that the king was courting her, she'd never taken his accusations seriously. Indeed, she'd believed that Azriel's ridiculous comments were inspired by jealousy borne of the powerful attraction that existed—or at least
used
to exist—between the two of them.

Desperately, Persephone cast about now for the right thing to say to her smitten brother, but before she could think of anything cleverer than “uhhhh,” the king's warm laughter rang out through the chamber.

“Lady Bothwell—I mean, Persephone—sister!” he said. “Do not fret. Like you, I grew up an orphan without kin. I've given it a great deal of thought over these past hours, and I have decided that I'd sooner have you for a sister than a wife. In truth, I think I always loved you as a sister, but when I came to see what a perfect queen you would make, I made myself believe that I was
in
love with you.”

“But you are
not
in love with me,” said Persephone, who wanted to be very clear on this point.

“No, I am not,” agreed the king, who hesitated before asking, “Did. did you ever believe you were in love with me?”

“Yes,” lied Persephone at once, hoping that the lie would make Finn feel less foolish about his own feelings. “But I think it was the same for me—that I loved you but was not
in
love with you.”

“But you
did
love me,” said Finn, who apparently wanted to be very clear on
this
point.

“Yes,” nodded Persephone. “I also admired you, for I knew that you would one day be a great ruler.”

“I like to think that I would have been,” he admitted before clearing his throat and adding, “but, of course, we shall never know, for as the firstborn twin, the throne is yours by right of birth.”

Persephone blinked at him. The previous twelve hours had been so crammed with staggering events and revelations that she'd not given even a passing thought as to what being firstborn might mean. Now that she did, her gut reaction was so powerful that it was almost violent. “No!” she practically shouted.

“
No?
” said the king in surprise.

“No, I don't want the throne. No, I don't want to be queen.”

“But you were born
first
.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Doesn't matter!” exploded King Finnius, coughing so hard that he was forced to brace his hands against his thighs. “By the gods, of
course
it matters!”

“No, it
doesn't
!” insisted Persephone passionately. “You were raised a prince and groomed to be king. I have lived my whole life a slave yearning for freedom. Ruling a realm may be a great and grand thing, Your Majesty, but if you'll forgive me for saying so, it is naught but its own kind of slavery, and I would not have it for anything!”

For a long time, the king remained hunched over, fighting to control his cough. At length, however, he raised himself up and regarded Persephone with slightly watery blue eyes. “Are you certain you'd not like … to take time … to ponder this matter further?” he panted.

“I've never been more certain of anything in my life,” said Persephone. Then, concerned by his greyish pallor and by the fact that he could not seem to catch his breath, she said, “Majesty, you do not look entirely well. Shall I fetch Moira?”

“No,” he replied. “She sent word that she is unwell, and I would not have her disturbed.”

“But—”

“
I said no!
” snapped the king, who was as contrite as could be the very next instant. “I'm so sorry! It's just … this cursèd cough makes me so wretchedly short-tempered at times. The court physicians concoct tonics and mix poultices and bleed me 'til I swear I've not a drop left in my veins, and
still
it persists. In truth,” he dropped his voice a notch, “I cannot help but fear what will happen if it keeps getting worse instead of better.”

Forgetting that the trembling, dark-haired boy before her was king, Persephone took a good grip of the front of his beautiful doublet. “Your cough will not get worse, do you hear?” she said, giving him a shake. “It will not get worse because I will not
let
it get worse.”

“You are almost as convincing as the court physicians—and infinitely more terrifying,” declared Finn with a breathless chuckle. “Indeed, I would not be a bit surprised if your presence by my side in the coming months was enough to
frighten
my poor cough away.”

Realizing that now was the time to explain to the king that she would
not
be by his side in the coming months, Persephone released her hold on his doublet and surreptitiously eyed the tapestry-covered walls for the spot from which death would come charging if she was to whisper troublemaking words to the king.
If
it would come charging, that is. Perhaps the Regent had been exaggerating or bluffing; perhaps the wisest and safest course of action would be to tell Finn the truth.

Even as she considered doing this, however, Persephone heard a sound behind the nearest wall. Heart pounding, she stepped away from Finn so fast that she snapped off the heel of her left slipper, lost her balance and would have fallen if Finn had not reached out and caught her hand.

“What you heard was only a rat—it seems there is ever one scuttling about in there,” he confided as he steadied her. “Fortunately, they hardly ever manage to find their way into my chambers, so you needn't be afraid.”

“I am … I am not afraid,” gulped Persephone. “I just … I was startled and … and I suppose I was nervous about telling you that I must leave Parthania tomorrow.”

“What?” said the king in amazement. “
Why?
”

It was on the tip of Persephone's tongue to concoct an elaborate lie. Then she thought about how kindly the king had forgiven her for her earlier falsehoods and how warmly he'd accepted her as kin, and she knew that she didn't want to lie to him any more than she absolutely had to.

And so, taking a deep breath, she said, “Do you remember my eunuch slave, Azriel?”

“Of course—though I am told that he is neither slave nor eunuch,” replied the king in the carefully neutral voice of one who was trying very hard not to sound disapproving.

“That is true,” said Persephone carelessly. “But the more important truth is that he intends to undertake a search for the healing Pool of Genezing—and I intend to go with him.”

For a long moment, the king said nothing. Then, in the same neutral voice, he said, “The Pool of Genezing is a Gypsy myth, Persephone.”

“Azriel has reason to believe that it is real, and I made a promise that I'd help him find it,” she replied, taking care not to mention that it was the Regent to whom she'd made the promise.

Finn looked genuinely alarmed. “You should not have made such a promise, Persephone, for even if Azriel is right and the pool is out there somewhere, I cannot see how the search for it could do other than put you in mortal danger! Let Azriel find the pool and be well rewarded for his efforts.”

Certain that the Regent would not approve of the idea of Azriel going off on his own, Persephone shook her head. “I must go with him,” she insisted. “I gave my word of honour, and besides, it is the only way I can be certain of learning the location of the pool. I trust Azriel, but I understand that he has no reason to trust me—or you, for that matter. For years his people have been persecuted in your name. They've been hunted and slaughtered and scalped; their infants have been bled like pigs for the healing power of their Gypsy blood.” The king's face had gone grey again, but Persephone pressed on. “If I were Azriel, I might think that the wisest and safest course of action for me to follow upon leaving the imperial city would be to get as far away as possible and to never return. And
that
is why we cannot send him on this quest by himself.”

“I will send soldiers—”

“Soldiers committed the very atrocities of which I spoke!” exclaimed Persephone. “You
cannot
send soldiers, Your Majesty. It
must
be me who accompanies Azriel in the search of healing waters, and I am glad of it, for I cannot be certain of being able to frighten your cough away and now that I have found you, I could not abide losing you.”

“I could not abide losing you, either,” said Finn, with feeling. “That is why—”

“You will not lose me,” interrupted Persephone with more confidence than she felt. “I've had an unusual upbringing for a princess and as a consequence I am unusually capable of taking care of myself. Moreover, Azriel has made a solemn vow to protect my life with his own, and while I must admit I've saved his life more times than he's saved mine, his vow ought to count for
something
.”

“He's a good wrestler,” acknowledged the king as he struggled to suppress a cough.

“I suppose,” grimaced Persephone, recalling the lovely afternoon Azriel had
ruined
by foolishly provoking the king into a wrestling match.

“Even so—”

“And then there is this: if we find the healing pool, think of all the good you could do for your subjects,” said Persephone enticingly. “Think of the pain and suffering that could be alleviated by even a thimbleful of healing water administered at your command. And you would not have a thimbleful at your disposal but an endless wellspring! If you will not let me go for the sake of allowing me to honour my word or for the sake of your own health, Your Majesty, you simply
must
let me go for the sake of your subjects!”

The king grimaced at her for saying the one thing he could not argue against. “Very well!” he said, flinging his hands into the air. “Though you've not exactly asked for my
permission
to join Azriel on the quest for the healing pool, I grant it nonetheless—provided you come back to me in one piece.”

Persephone nodded and tried not to think about the many reasons she might come back to him in
more
than one piece.

Or not at all.

Her imminent departure agreed upon, the king sent a note to Azriel asking him to make adequate preparations for the journey and granting him permission to freely requisition whatever he required in that regard. He then issued a royal command that Persephone spend the entire day with him. Smiling fondly, she solemnly declared herself the most loyal of subjects and vowed to obey him even unto death.

The two of them spent the rest of the morning lounging in the king's inner chamber sharing stories from their respective childhoods. Finn told of what it had been like to be raised by servants. He shared how it had felt to be a very small child dining alone in silence at the head of a table that could comfortably have sat forty. He described his first pony, the topiary maze a favourite gardener had once fashioned for his amusement and the stuffed rabbit named Sir Wabbity that Moira had made for him out of a handful of velvet scraps. With a faraway look in his eyes, he recounted the first time he'd stood alone upon the Grand Balcony to acknowledge the throngs of cheering lowborn subjects beyond the palace walls. He told of how he'd had to stand on his tiptoes to see over the stone balustrade, how his small neck had felt as though it would snap under the weight of the golden crown upon his head and how he'd later been scolded by Mordecai for waving too enthusiastically and smiling too much.