Hearts in Cups (39 page)

"...and so, I need
your father's commitment to an alliance between Creon and Langstraad."

"Could you not
have just signed a treaty with him?" was her question.

"You have been
born and raised in a Great House, my lady. Think of how alliances are truly
cemented: either by mutual physical gains of property or by marriage; those
gained through the familial alliances of marriage are the stronger and harder
to dissolve. I need this alliance to keep Langstraad safe and, like it or not,
you are the key that I have bargained for."

"You, then, also
think that I am merely a chattel to be traded or given away?" She plucked
angrily at the coverlet in her hands.

"So you are, and
so I am." Her head jerked up at this admission from him. "I am as
much a pawn in this as you. Do you think I like the idea of marrying someone I
don't know? I assure you that the idea was almost as distasteful to me as to
you. However, I made a pledge that I would preserve the Great House of
Langstraad and if that means that I must sacrifice my own wishes to a greater
goal, then I am prepared to do it."

Ian gave her several
minutes to think about what he had said before continuing. "Now, as I
refuse to rape you, you can declare non-consummation to your parents in the
morning and they can have the marriage dissolved. I admit that this would
entail great embarrassment all the way around but I am willing to pack my bags
and go back from whence I came. Of course, this does not mean that your parents
might not find a less scrupulous suitor for you." He paused to see if she
was following his logic.  A furrowed brow indicated that she was indeed
comprehending his meaning, although she remained silent.

"On the other
hand, since you and your parents seem to be on less than the friendliest of
terms, you can say nothing, keep your chastity to yourself and return to
Langstraad with me," he concluded.

"What then?"
The question was tentative but he had piqued her interest.

"Then my lady, you
may take up your position as wife to a duke regent and live your own virgin
life, if that is what you wish. I have a mistress at Castle Lir so I will not
trouble you in that respect," he assured her. "I want this alliance,
and you want to escape your parent's grasp. I think that we can strike a
bargain between the two of us. What do you say?"

Angharad took her time
before replying. In the last hour she had regained enough of her old self to be
able to look at this man and not see an ogre. What she did see was a young man
of slight build with a lively face and penetrating grey eyes beneath humorously
arched black brows.  What he had to say and what he did not do reassured
and gave her pause for reflection. It was true that the few options she had
before her were increasingly bleak. She had no doubts about her parent's
displeasure should she cry for an annulment and the thought of facing them with
it wilted her completely. What this man sitting before her was offering was a
way out of her dilemma, if she could trust him. She continued to study him,
trying to read beneath the smooth lineaments of his face into his mind.

"What do you
expect from me?" she ventured to ask.

"That for the next
few days, while we are here, you will appear and act the part of my wife
whenever we are with other people. Also, that you say and do nothing to hamper
my alliance with your father. I will sleep in here, on this chair, to keep up
the illusion that we are man and wife. When we return to Castle Lir, you will
have your own suite of rooms and need only play this charade at public
occasions. Can you live with those conditions?" He waited for her reply.

Taking a deep breath
and looking directly into his candid eyes, she gave him her answer. "I
will play your game so long as you respect my liberties. I agree to your
conditions."

Standing, Ian gave her
a correct and courteous bow. "Our bargain is struck then," he
announced pompously, followed up by an attractive grin. "Now if I can find
a blanket, I shall stretch out in this chair and get what sleep I can."

He rummaged in the
armoires until he found what he was seeking. Then, taking off his boots and
getting as comfortable as he could, he wrapped himself cocoon-like within the
blanket and settled down into his chair. Luckily it was commodious and well
padded, though he did not think himself capable of more than a few nights on
it.

For her part, once she
had seen Ian wrapped in his blanket and recumbent in his chair, Angharad
attempted to lay back against the pillows and rest from the emotional storms of
the day. Mind and body ached, but she was unable to let herself relax into
sleep. All night she continued to waken at Ian's slightest movement and only in
the pale light of dawn did she drift into an exhausted doze.

The sound of Ian
disentangling himself from his blanket woke Angharad from her light sleep. The
candles, left burning all night, had dripped wax everywhere. Some servant was going
to have a difficult task that day, Ian mused. He went to the window and drew
the curtains to look out and over the castle walls. The townspeople were
already about their business out in the streets. Yesterday's holiday now a
memory as they bustled about their daily tasks. He turned back to where
Angharad sat stifling a yawn, her hair in dishevelment about her shoulders.
Saying nothing, he folded and replaced the blanket and then pushed the chair
back into its original location. As he rummaged among the clothes that Evan had
placed in the room earlier, he found a heavy mantle to wear against the chill
of morning. He stopped to remove his outer garments in the small anteroom,
before throwing the bolt back and returning to the nuptial chamber with the bulk
of his mantle draped about him. While he had been out of the room, Angharad had
slid off of the bed and found a suitable robe to cast over herself. She stood
to the side as he, expertly to her eye, tossed the pillows about and
disarranged the bed linens. Then, favouring her with a conspiratorial wink, he
pulled the bell-rope to summon the servants.

That first day was a
trial to Angharad. Functioning under the burdens of too little sleep and a
deception with which she was far from comfortable, she was nevertheless forced
to admit that Ian played his part perfectly, behaving in as kind and solicitous
a fashion as a new husband should. Unfortunately she was still uncertain how
much of this was but a game to him, and distrusted him because of it. She was subjected
to many comments during that day, some of them unexpectedly insensitive and
catty, all of which she met with glacial silence. Her grandmother attempted to
have a confidential chat with her before dinner but Angharad pleaded a headache
and withdrew into her own room or, more accurately, the room that she now
shared with her husband.

The newly espoused Lord
Ian, appearing serene and at ease, escorted his new wife through the rigors of
the day. He was as uncommunicative as she in regards to events of the previous
day and night, but seemed far less tense than his wife. After dinner, when
Angharad had retired with the other ladies, Ian drank with his father-in-law
and discussed politics, keeping the conversation away from personal matters. He
had snubbed his grandfather earlier in that regard, so that now the old man
kept his speculations to himself.

Angharad was deeply
asleep when Ian returned to their room. One hand lay beside her face on the
pillow, her fingers curved slightly around a lock of her soft brown hair. Her
breathing was deep and regular, like a child's. She did not even stir as Ian
fetched his blanket and curled up for another night's discomfort.

Three days later the
Duke Regent of Langstraad departed with his bride amid an excess of pleasantries
and surrounded by the retinue that had accompanied him there. They traveled
swiftly, in spite of the burden of gifts they were conveying back to Castle
Lir. Ian had suggested that his grandparents might return directly to their own
manor, as their barony lay in the south of Langstraad, while the nuptial party
continued north to Castle Lir, but they would not hear of it. In fact, his meek
and almost invisible grandmother became positively animated as she scolded him,
saying that they had taken a vow to escort his bride to her new home and see
her properly installed and that she took this responsibility most seriously.
With a graceful shrug, Ian said no more.

The trip was
uneventful. Angharad rode in the carriage with his grandmother, looking subdued
and thoughtful. She was so unresponsive to Lady Eloise's conversational tidbits
that the old lady soon gave up trying to chat with her. Ian rode, sometimes
with his grandfather, but more often than not he trotted along with Lord Alwyn
and his wife, Lady Idris. Their holdings of Morna lay north of Castle Lir and
they had accepted Ian's invitation to travel back with him and stay for a few
days as his guests.

There was much of a
political nature that the three of them were able to discuss on the journey,
for Idris was Lord Percamber's niece, and had recently had news from him
indicating that a special session of the Pentacle Council was due to be called
within a month. Alwyn Glendark had been visiting his family in Gresha a few
weeks back and mentioned disturbing rumours of what was happening in the south
of the Pentarchy. Alwyn also appraised him of the movement of troops along the
northern border between Langstraad and the Inner Ward. All agreed that war was
becoming inevitable, and by the time they reached Castle Lir Alwyn and Ian were
deep in discussion of what precautions needed to be taken in case Lord Brescom
turned traitor and tried to overrun his borders.

Servants, free-holders,
minor lords and ladies, soldiers and castle stewards all came forth to welcome
their liege and his new lady home. Amid the bustle of unpacking and exchanging
of news, Ian was able to draw Dame Edwinna aside and ask which rooms had been
prepared for the Lady Angharad. Mystified, Edwinna had replied that the new
lady was to be housed in the rooms used by the late duchess. All of her grace's
personal things had been packed away, because the new lady would of course be
bringing her own objects to decorate her new apartments. Ian nodded absently
and instructed Edwinna to conduct her new mistress to the rooms prepared for
her. Then he casually let fall the information that he did not want the
furnishings of his old rooms transferred to those of his new wife. He wanted
his rooms left as they were since he intended to continue using them himself.
Somewhat shocked by these orders, yet not being in a position to gainsay them,
Edwinna merely favoured him with a "yes my lord," and went away to do
as she had been bid.

Seeing that the
efficient machinery of the castle was engaged in taking care of all of the
arrivals, Ian told Angharad in low tones what he had ordered and sent her off
in Dame Edwinna's care. Taking the opportunity that presented itself, Ian then
slipped away to his own rooms. Here he posted a guard against intrusions,
stripped his traveling garments off and threw himself onto the comfort of his
own bed, where he immediately fell into his first truly restorative sleep in
more than three weeks.

Chapter 18

Percamber sat at the large
table with Lord Michael Talen, recorder for the Pentacle Council and private
secretary to the regent. They had been drafting the summons to a council
session all morning and, as the regent sat back in his chair, Michael watched
him with concern, noting how thin and fragile he had become in the last few
weeks. They had been forced to cancel a council summons drafted two months ago,
after the terrible news had first been brought to Pentarin of the loss of the
party sent to find Prince Brian. The shock of these tidings affected Percamber
to such an extent that he had fallen seriously ill. His recovery had been slow
and Michael still did not think him up to the strain of convening a special
session, with all the problems and personalities that the meeting would force
him to deal with. But Percamber had insisted, and his councilors had given way.
The court physician was also against putting any more pressure on his patient
than he was already enduring, but when he saw that his advice was not to be
heeded, he shrugged and silently did what he could to relieve his patient’s
pain.

Between them, the
Viscount of Treves and Lord Michael continued to administer the Pentarchy in
Percamber's name, but they could only maintain what was in effect, not change
or modify policy. Both knew that it was imperative to bring the members of the
Pentacle Council together, especially as they saw the edges of the Pentarchy
beginning to unravel.

From the north, again,
ill news had come within the past two weeks. The Duke of Tuenth was dead,
apparently murdered by his eldest son, who had subsequently disappeared. Before
a lengthy investigation into the death could be enacted or the duke's second
son invested with his father's office, Torval died in an accident with his
horse. The third son, Blaise ap Halberstad, had not even waited for
confirmation from Pentarin before declaring himself Duke of Tuenth with his
mother's supposed blessing. News from Tuenth had been desultory since that
time, and what fragments of information had come were disturbing. In the name
of unification, much of the duchy was being mobilized. There was still no word
of the fate of the duke's eldest, accused, son, but his brother had officially
declared him "dead within the borders if found, and a good price to whoever
rids us of this parricide."