Hearts in Cups (4 page)

When she had come of
age and begun to take her place on the Pentacle Council, Percamber had been
regent for several years and it was generally understood, though never
mentioned, that the prince would, in his own good time, return and ascend the
throne of his House. It was only in the last year or two that disgruntlement
with the existing political situation had been heard aloud.

Hollin lifted the great
ring aloft again, marveling at its depth and luminosity. This, it seemed to
her, was the key to her own position in the coming power struggle. And struggle
it would be, if Ian was correct in his assessment. Ian. He had been her closest
friend since childhood. He was still the only person in whom she felt complete
trust. Not for the first time she thought that it was a pity he was her first
cousin. Things might have been much simpler if he hadn't been.

After the death of
Gwyneira, Hollin had become heir to the Duchy of Langstraad and was destined
from that time to follow in her mother's stead. In recent years most of the
Houses, Great and Minor, had turned to primogeniture to determine heirship, but
Langstraad was different. Langstraad was the oldest of the Great Houses,
tracing its ancestry back to the twilight years, before the half-legendary King
Gryffyd had sailed with his four children up the river Silvarluin and
established the Pentarchy. He had ruled as High King from the central, Royal
Duchy of Sandovar, while each of his children established their own Great
Houses in adjacent dukedoms. Gryffyd had married, for the second time, and the
children of that marriage had become the power-wielders of House Sandovar. Each
of the power-wielders of the Great Houses and the subsequently established
Minor Houses were trained as arcane adepts but the direct heirs of the five
Great Houses were also wielders of the elemental powers ascribed to their
Houses. When Gryffyd had drawn up the Pentacle Charter he had charged the Great
Houses not to intermarry, both to prevent strife and to ensure that their
intrinsic powers would not be lost or reduced. In time, the people of Gryffyd
had intermingled and merged with the indigenous population until few remembered
that there was anything before the establishment of the Pentarchy. Langstraad
was the only duchy that still recalled its antecedents and retained vestiges of
its own past. Matrilineal descent was part of that past.

There was a brief rap
on the door and Celia, one of her ladies-in-waiting, came in. "Your
cousin, Lord Ian, has arrived and is in your sitting room, your grace. Shall I
fix your hair for you or call Inara to do it?'

"Just braid it
please; this is not a public occasion." Hollin and Celia exchanged smiles.
Hollin disliked being fussed over, especially when it came to her appearance,
and while she submitted gracefully to Lady Inara's meticulous attentions for
formal events, she preferred Lady Celia's ministrations for informal
situations. Celia deftly caught up her mistress' hair and entwined it into a
single braid. Hollin rose and smoothed the creases from her gown. As she did so
she realized that she still had the ring clutched in her hand.

"Please go and see
to our dinner, Celia, and pour Lord Ian some wine on your way out. I'll be with
him shortly." After the girl had left, Hollin again held the ring aloft
and then slipped it onto her finger. There was a momentary sensation of warmth
followed by a tingling in her arm which subsided gradually. With a start Hollin
understood that this ring was more than mere stone and metal. The thought was
not alarming but it was unexpected. Then, with a slight shake of her head, she
went to meet her cousin.

Ian's slight, elegantly
dressed figure automatically turned towards her when Hollin came into the room.
Bowing, he lifted her outstretched hands to his lips and then, with a comical
twist to his mouth, he drew the hand with the ruby ring closer and observed it
with undisguised interest. Celia made a soft sound in her throat as she came
forward to give her mistress a glass of wine, and Ian casually let go her hand.

The meal was served
with quiet efficiency in the duchess' private dining room, overseen by Lady
Celia. During the meal the cousins discussed Ian's recent travels and the general
state of affairs in their mutual grandfather's barony. It was an old game to
them, making amusing but inconsequential chatter while others were present.
When young they had even tried to devise a code so that they might have private
conversation at formal events, but had given it up when Hollin's mother had
remarked that what they said made less than no sense to anyone overhearing
them, and was thus in itself a cause for suspicion.

The meal ended and
Hollin dismissed the servants. Celia stayed long enough to draw the curtains
and bring a light shawl for Hollin's shoulders, but at last she left, and they
were finally alone. They returned arm-in-arm to her private sitting room, where
the heat from the fire had intensified the fragrance of a bowl of golden
freesias. They stood in companionable silence watching the logs burning slowly
in the fireplace. Hollin moved to recline on her low couch and Ian draped
himself over one of the chairs.

"You do realize,
Holly, that wearing that ring openly to the council session is going to cause a
tempest. Then again, storm warnings are already up for this meeting. At least
this gives you the advantage of the first move. ‘To the valiant of heart the
battle doth go!’ Or some such prattle."

Unwilling to be baited,
Hollin's face expressed her serious frame of mind. "I have done a
considerable amount of thinking today, Ian, and I have come to the conclusion
that my options are few indeed. One thing is patently clear: if I stay away
from the meeting, Niall and Rashara have one less stumbling block in their way.
I intend to be a very large block."

"Did you really
consider just hibernating here while the Pentarchy's future is debated?"
he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"A momentary
weakness of heart, or stomach. Hibernation is Gervase's solution to life, not
mine." Ian grinned at her. "You are absolutely correct about this
ring causing more than a little confusion." She held her hand up and
scrutinized the object she wore. "I discovered that it is not just a
pretty bauble: it's ensorcelled."

"Really? Didn't
you know that before?" He sounded surprised.

"No. I haven't put
the ring on for years. Not since I assumed the House Power anyway. That may
have triggered something within it, or made me more sensitive to it. I don't
know much about imbuing objects with arcane powers or their properties."
She shrugged and smiled self-consciously. Ian was not of an arcane background.
The de Medicats were a landed noble family of minor rank. Only those directly
descended from a Great or Minor House, or those trained at the Scholastium in
the city of Dacara, were conversant with arcane energies and their uses.

"Are you thinking
of claiming the throne for yourself then?"

"Take the throne?
Not at all!" She dropped her hand in amazement. "My plan, such as it
is, is to use my influence as an auxiliary descendant of House Sandovar, and as
the formally affianced of the crown prince, to motivate a quest to go in search
of him. No one has yet declared him dead, which leads me to assume that he is
alive somewhere. And Prince Brian on the throne is the only solution that will
keep any true and lasting peace in the Pentarchy."

Ian took his time
thinking about the proposal. Finally he pronounced his verdict: "Not bad.
It has a few flaws, such as, what if the council refuses or Percamber announces
that the prince really is dead? But it has its merits. First of all, unless the
prince is dead, it would be tantamount to treason to not try to locate and
inform him of the current state of affairs. I don't think that anyone,
including House Mirvanovir, wants their loyalty called into question. It also
has the distinct advantage that, even if he isn't found, which is a
possibility, you will have gained time, and a solution acceptable to everyone
may then be found.

"It's a very
prudent course, Holly. I approve. It also puts you in a powerful position in
terms of establishing your link or claim to the throne, if it should come to
that."

"There is, of
course, always the possibility that the prince will be found," Hollin
interjected drily.

"Ah yes, there is
that possibility... And what do you intend to do if that should happen? Will
you marry him?" He masked his face and voice to complete neutrality.

"I don't
know." She considered the question. "Wearing the ring openly puts me
in an awkward position. I am publicly declaring myself his future wife without
consulting him first. I was trying earlier today to remember what he looked
like and I can't. I know that it is hardly out of the ordinary for members of
our class to marry people they hardly know, but I don't condone it. I think
that if the prince does return, I'll offer him the option of bowing out."
She shook her head with a laugh. "It won't do to look too far into the
future; we still don't know what Percamber has up his sleeve."

"For a woman who
professes to hate intrigue, you're displaying an inordinate amount of
deviousness," Ian commented as he filled two glasses from a decanter on
the sideboard.

Taking her glass,
Hollin drank sparingly, then rose and began to pace abstractedly about the
perimeter of the room. The skirt of her dress swam about her feet as she
walked. Ian sat in silence, drinking his wine, enjoying the simple act of
gazing unhindered at his cousin. Since their talk this morning, he had felt a
vague disquiet in himself. He had spent the greater portion of his life with
her, and most of that in love with her. He knew her moods, her thoughts, the
small nuances of her personality. That they were held apart by an invisible but
potent barrier was as clear and painful to him as it was to her. Not thinking
about it, he had assumed that they would continue in their comfortable limbo
indefinitely. Secretly he had laughed behind his grandfather's broad back at
the attempt to wed him off. While Hollin remained free, he had no intention of
taking a wife, no matter how many casual affairs he might conduct. If he could
not marry where he chose, he would at least remain at her side, as her friend.
But today's news worried him. Upheaval and change were in the wind. A long forgotten
suitor was being resurrected, or the memory of him was; and if not he then
someone else would be on the throne. Either way, his beloved Holly was going to
be at the center of the storm. Hollin stopped her perambulations and looked at
her cousin. Instinctively, he put down his cup and regarded her attentively. It
was foolish to worry about her ability to handle the situation, he told himself
looking into her calm, fearless face. He schooled himself to relax and put his
emotions in check.

"Something that we
haven't discussed yet..." she began. He lifted a well-curved eyebrow.
"I may not be returning, at least not for a long while." He looked
puzzled. "I mean that it may take a long time to find the prince if he is
still alive. I may have to stay in Pentarin longer than I intend; many things
may happen. Whatever happens to me, Langstraad is my first responsibility and I
need to make arrangements for its future. I want a strong wall at my
back." A rueful grimace flitted across her features. "I have already
discussed the preliminaries with Benedict, and in view of the fact that I have
no ‘heirs of the body,’ as he so neatly put it, I am designating you as ducal
regent for Genvra's eldest daughter, Maeve. It is assumed that the girl carries
the potential for House Langstraad."

"I don't
understand. Gervase is the logical choice of ducal regent. I'm not even of the
House," he added in a troubled voice.

"But I choose
you." Her voice caught and her face flushed with colour. "If I could
will it, you would be my direct heir. But because you are not ‘of the House,’ I
can't. Gervase is more than content to stay in Castle Iscoed. He won't argue my
choice, and neither will Genvra. You are much cleverer than either of them; you
would preserve my duchy." Hollin knelt before him and took his hands in
hers. "Please, Ian, I need you to agree to do this for me."

Ian noticed the slight
trembling of her hands on his. Both of them were suddenly aware that they were
on the brink of their relationship. In a state of impasse they sat staring
ardently into each other's face before the unsteady light of the fire. Ian's
mind raged between what he wanted to do and what he should do. The same
conflict was mirrored on Hollin's face.

With his own hands
shaking, Ian put his arms around her. The past was swirling around him. How old
had he been? Twelve or thirteen?  Riding out into the hills with his
cousin. They had separated themselves from the rest of the company and galloped
off. He remembered following her up a hill and her reining at the top, turning
to laugh at him. Red hair loosened by the wind, her cheeks and eyes bright; he
had fallen in love at that moment. She was no longer his girl-cousin but the
girl with whom he was in love. Learning that she must remain his girl-cousin
crushed him. Yet here she was, after so many years, in his arms with her
barriers down.

The moment passed and
she pulled back to look at him. "I will do whatever you ask of me,
Holly," he said softly. "I will do whatever is in my power to protect
you and yours."

"Thank you."
Bending forward, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I think it best to
say goodnight."