Storms of Destiny (63 page)

Salesin has many enemies … you know that. Anyone could
have done that to him. Anyone …

Two of her ladies were in her suite, Marquise Jonala and Bethina. Both leaped to their feet when she entered, then curtsied deeply. “Your Highness!” the marquise exclaimed.

“We have not seen you in days!”

“You know I have been attending Her Majesty,” Ulandra replied, trying not to snap. Just being here in her own rooms made the fear uncoil and rise within her. “Bethina, I wish to bathe. Have hot water brought, please.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Bobbing a curtsy, the woman scurried off.

Ulandra went over to the first of her wardrobes, opened it, and quickly chose five everyday gowns of muted colors and conservative cut. “Here,” she said, piling them into Jonala’s arms. “And these,” she added, piling on some night shifts and two more morning gowns. “Take these to the room I am occupying in Her Majesty’s apartments and hang them there.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Jonala said, stretching her neck to peer over the top of the pile. “I shall see to it.”

“And send in my other women,” Ulandra said. “I need my hair washed and brushed.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

With a swish of satin and a flutter of plum-colored lace, Jonala was gone. Ulandra began to pace, wondering when Salesin’s meeting would be over. She knew that military tactics were time consuming. There would be lists of provisions and ammunition to go over, plus rosters of troops from other Pelanese villages … Napice in the far south, Vencal, Pioli, and Berini. She’d heard something whispered last night about foreign ships being sighted off the coast of Gen, to the northeast of Minoma, but hadn’t been able to overhear much of what had been said.

How long can I stay in my rooms?
she wondered.
How
long will I be safe?

She could have ordered bathwater from the Queen’s servants, but knew that would cause suspicion. It was all well and good for a royal daughter-in-law to devote herself to caring for the ailing Queen, but Ulandra didn’t want to arouse any more speculation than there already had been about her marriage. It was hard enough to ignore the whispers, the sideways glances, and the presence of Salesin’s mistresses in his rooms.

She busied herself picking up some shoes, a book, a fan, and other personal items to be taken to her new room in the Queen’s apartments.
While I am with the Queen, I am safe.

Her fingers tightened on the soft kid of a boot.
But the
Queen is fading fast. What will happen after she dies?

Ulandra shook off the thought, ordering herself not to let

such negative notions enter her mind. Even thinking about the Queen’s death made her feel disloyal.
She has been so
kind to me. Goddess, help her rally!
Ulandra resolved to say an extra round of prayers that night.

Sounds of sloshing from the next room interrupted her reverie, and she went into her bedchamber. The bathtub was standing in the middle of the room, nearly filled with steaming water. Ulandra handed a maid her possessions, and after her ladies had undressed her and unbound her hair, stepped up onto the wooden step and into the tub. She sank down into the water with a sigh.

Her ladies began washing her hair, soaping and rinsing, then soaping again. Her hair was so long that by the time it was clean, the water in the tub had cooled until it was no more than pleasantly warm.

Ulandra took the sponge they handed her and began washing her private places. She knew her maids considered her odd for refusing their ministrations, but she had bathed herself in the convent, and having anyone else touch her there reminded her painfully of Salesin’s assaults.

While she bathed, her women carefully combed out her hair, drying it gently with towels.

By the time Ulandra stood up and slid her arms into the robe her maid proffered, the water was tepid, and she felt more relaxed than she had in months.

The Princess pointed to one of her dresses, a pale blue trimmed with dark blue velvet ribbons, and Lady Jonala picked it up and spread it on the bed. Ulandra dropped the robe and extended her arms over her head so Amaryla could slip her silk chemise on.

Just as the silk slithered into place, the bedchamber door opened and Salesin stood silhouetted in the doorway. He was holding one of his ceremonial swords of rank, which had hitherto hung above the mantel in the sitting room.

The ladies gasped with surprise and not a little fear. Ulandra flinched, forcing herself not to take a step back. “Your Highness!” she exclaimed, snatching up her robe, sliding her arms into it. “Forgive me, my lord. I did not know you were there.”

Salesin’s eyes met hers, and Ulandra recognized a familiar expression in their dark depths. She swallowed.
And now
he will order my ladies to leave, as he has done before, and
then he will take me … as he has done before.

She steeled herself. She would offer no resistance—that just made things worse, and prolonged the act.

But as she stared at her husband, she saw a different expression flicker in his eyes, crossing his features so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it.

Fear.

Salesin took a step back, then made an abbreviated bow.

“My lady,” he said formally. “Your pardon, I did not know you were here. I was told you were attending on my mother.”

Ulandra nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“How is she?”

She hesitated, then gave him the truth. “I regret to say that she is failing, Your Highness. She had another of her episodes just yesterday, and it left her very weak.”

He nodded. “So I have heard.” He straightened. “I have duties, my lady, and must take my leave. Pela is going to war.”

Ulandra managed to bob a curtsy, holding the skirts of her robe up. “Of course, my lord,” she murmured. “We shall all pray to the Goddess for a great victory.”

With a curt inclination of his head, Salesin was gone.

Ulandra gasped with relief, feeling her legs grow weak.

She sat down with a thump on the edge of the big bed where so much suffering and degradation had occurred for so many months. “Dear Goddess,” she whispered. “Dear Goddess …”

“Shall we all pray now, Your Highness?” the marquise asked.

Ulandra struggled to regain her composure. “Certainly,”

she murmured. Holding onto the bedpost for support, she slid down to kneel on the floor, assuming the proper posture for prayer. “Let us pray for a speedy victory against the invaders.”

Even as she led her ladies in a prayer for victory and deliverance, part of Ulandra’s mind was still reeling from the discovery she had just made.
He’s afraid of me. He didn’t
come near me. What does this mean? Why should he be
afraid
—
what did he see that day?

By the time she was back in the Queen’s bedchamber, it was lunchtime. Ulandra ate her own light repast, then dispatched a servant to fetch soft bread and broth for the Queen. Her chair by the Queen’s bedside awaited her. After she was seated, she gently touched the Queen’s hand. “Your Majesty?” Elnorin’s eyes fluttered open. They were blue-gray, soft and a little vague.
Just like Eregard’s,
Ulandra found herself thinking.

Her patient smiled. “Daughter. Back again? You should be off dancing at balls, not sitting here with me.”

Ulandra squeezed her hand. “Your Majesty, there is no place in this world I would rather be than here with you. You have become the mother I barely knew.”

The faded old eyes filled with tears, and Elnorin squeezed Ulandra’s hand in turn. “May the Goddess bless you, my dear, for your kindness to me …” She turned her head restlessly on her pillow. “Ulandra, where is my son?”

“Prince Salesin and Prince Adranan are meeting with …”

Ulandra trailed off. The Queen didn’t know about the im-pending war, so why worry her? “They are in meetings with the royal governors, Your Majesty,” she finished, which was at least partly true. The King had summoned several of his provincial governors to accompany their levies of troops, and four days ago he had dispatched Adranan to meet with the governor of the northern province, in the provincial capital, Gen.

“No, not Adranan,” the Queen murmured. She smiled, a faint, ironic smile. “He’s a good boy, Adranan—kind, honest—but he lacks subtlety. Not good in a royal. He blunders straight ahead, when cunning is called for. He came to see me, was it yesterday?”

“Yes, yesterday,” Ulandra agreed. Actually, it had been four days ago, before Adranan had set out for Gen, but what did it matter?

The Queen’s expression grew fretful. “And not Salesin.

The Goddess must have been angry with me when I conceived him. There is such cruelty in him … he thinks only of power.”

“Yes, I know,” Ulandra said, but so softly she doubted the distracted woman heard her.

“No, the son of my heart, dear Eregard. Where is Eregard? I want him. He plays so well, and sings so sweetly.”

The Queen’s eyes closed. Even that short speech had exhausted her. Ulandra wet her lips, half tempted to tell the Queen that she’d had a message from Eregard less than a week ago. But they hadn’t heard anything since … and how would she explain the nature of that message?

Best I not say anything,
she decided.
It would only excite
her, and might bring on another of her episodes. They
weaken her so much.

Moments later the food arrived. Ulandra did her best to rouse the Queen and get her to eat. She succeeded better than the trained nurse had managed, but the bowl was still more than half full when the Queen waved away the spoon feebly. “No more, no more. Thank you, my dear. I am full.”

Knowing that the Queen would soon slip off into sleep, Ulandra quickly checked her swaddlings, and finding them wet, changed them. “You should not be doing this,” Elnorin said, faintly. “ ’Tis no task for a princess.”

“It is a task that a daughter would do for a beloved mother,” Ulandra replied. “Hush, now, Your Majesty. Soon you can—”

With no warning, no announcement, the bedchamber door was flung open and King Agivir rushed into the room. He was holding a slip of parchment in his hand and his eyes were wild with excitement. He flung himself down beside his wife, and taking her hands, kissed them. “My Queen …”

he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with a mixture of joy and amazement, “My Queen, I have news sent by carrier hawk from our ship
Sea Eagle
. They will be docking before day’s end. My love, Eregard is aboard her! He is coming home!”

Ulandra gasped. “Sire!”

The King spared her a glance. “ ’Tis true, daughter. My son is coming back to me.”

The Queen’s eyes opened and she gazed at her husband questioningly. “Eregard?” she whispered.

“Yes!” Agivir kissed his wife’s hand again. “Hold on, my dear. Our son will be with us tonight.”

The Queen’s lips moved. “Goddess … thanks …”

“Don’t try to talk, Your Majesty,” Ulandra said. “Save your strength.”

The Queen managed to nod, and then her face twisted with pain. Without warning she trembled violently and jerky spasms ran through her limbs. Her heels drummed on the feather mattress. “Nurse!” Ulandra called urgently. “Nurse, she’s having another episode!”

Quickly, she went down on her knees, scarcely realizing she had pushed the King out of the way as her hands went to the Queen’s shoulders. She held her as still as she could, so Elnorin would not harm herself while in the throes of the seizure. The nurse hurried over and managed to hold the Queen’s head steady and keep her from choking.

It was all they could do.

The seizure was over quickly; Queen Elnorin was too weak to endure such a struggle for long. She slumped back, exhausted. Carefully, Ulandra and the nurse bathed her face and sponged her, then changed her nightgown and the wet bedding.

All the while, King Agivir stood across the room, anguished and silent. Ulandra went over to him when they were finished. “Forgive me, sire, for my importunate behavior.”

Agivir shook his head distractedly, and Ulandra saw that tears streaked his cheeks. “I told her too suddenly,” he said.

“I caused her spell.”

Ulandra shook her head. “Your Majesty, there is no way to predict what will cause an episode. She sleeps now. Do you wish to sit with her?”

The King nodded and came forward. He sat beside Elnorin’s bed, holding her hand, telling her softly, repeatedly, that her youngest son was coming home. The nurse sat on her stool, folding swaddlings and bed linens. The room was utterly silent, save for the Queen’s halting breath. Ulandra stared at the old woman, her chest so tight it was painful.
She
cannot last much longer.

She said a quick prayer to the Goddess that Eregard would arrive in time.

The servants had just lighted the candles when a messenger arrived, gasping, having run all the way uphill from the port. The King and Ulandra met him in the outer salon. The young seaman went down on one knee. “Your Majesty!
Sea
Eagle
has just docked! I saw the Prince. He bade me run ahead and tell you that he and his companions are on their way.”

The King glanced at Ulandra. “Companions?” he asked the young man.

The youth nodded, still breathing hard. “Sire, the Prince bade me tell you these people saved his life. He begs you to make them welcome.”

The King nodded. “And we shall, of a certainty. But the Prince must be brought to the Queen’s chamber immediately. Immediately! The Queen … the Queen …” He cleared his throat. “Intercept Prince Eregard and tell him that his mother is waiting for him. Tell him to
hurry
.”

The messenger bowed. “Yes, sire.”

As soon as the lad was gone, the King signaled to one of the maids. “Find the royal chamberlain and instruct him to locate Prince Salesin. Have him inform the Prince that he should come to see his mother immediately. Time is of the essence.”

The servant curtsied so deeply that her gray skirt spread around her like a pool of quicksilver. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

After she had scurried off, there was nothing to do but wait. The King paced restlessly about the bedchamber. Ulandra sat by the Queen’s side, holding her hand. The change in the old woman’s breathing disturbed her—it was louder now, more stentorian. She glanced up at the nurse and pitched her voice low. “She breathes with such effort.”