The Rose Throne (14 page)

“Lady Maj, did he kill her?” Ailsbet asked again.

Lady Maj stared into Ailsbet’s eyes. “You know the truth already, Princess Ailsbet. You know what your father has become. How selfish, how mired in his own pleasures.”

“She spoke of a prophecy,” said Ailsbet. “Do you know what it says?”

Lady Maj’s eyes fluttered. “I don’t know of any prophecy.” It was clearly a lie.

“Tell me of the prophecy,” said Ailsbet harshly. “If you do not, I shall ask everyone in the court about it until I find out the truth.”

That was enough, apparently, for Lady Maj. “It is forbidden to speak of it, on pain of death. It has not been spoken of for years, except in secret. It is a Weirese belief, though there are some in Rurik who share it.”

“What is it?” Would the woman not spit it out? Ailsbet felt hot again.

“Only that the two weyrs will be magically combined again, and that the thrones will be one,” said Lady Maj. “Some say a royal child will inherit both magics, taweyr from his father and neweyr from his mother, and with that power, he will be able to do miraculous things.

“Your mother believed in it all her days. It was one of the reasons she married your father. She thought because your uncle was ekhono that it meant the weyr in his line was more fluid.”

“What?” said Ailsbet in astonishment. She had heard many rumors about her uncle, who had died young, but never this one.

“Your father’s elder brother, Achter, was ekhono. I thought you knew.”

Ailsbet shook her head.

“It was the reason he is never spoken of,” said Lady Maj. “It was thought best for the kingdom and the new king.”

“Is that why the king is so vicious in his treatment of the ekhono?” Ailsbet asked.

“He cannot allow there to be any doubt about Prince Edik’s taweyr,” said Lady Maj.

“But Edik has shown his taweyr,” said Ailsbet.
“I’ve seen it. And he is young. He should easily expect to grow into more.”

“Has he shown it? Are you sure?” said Lady Maj. “His tutors have reason to make sure their charge shows well before the king.”

It had never occurred to Ailsbet to doubt that her brother would come into his full taweyr. But now she had to know the truth. Was any of the taweyr she had seen Edik’s own?

T
HE QUEEN’S FUNERAL
was a quiet affair, and the king was in mourning but a day. Then he was dancing every night again with Lady Pippa, enjoying the luxuries of his court. Duke Kellin hinted at nothing about his mysterious errand for the king, though he seemed distracted, and stared at the king often from across the room, as if trying to understand him. Ailsbet dared not ask him directly what he had done, for she had her own concerns.

The betrothal with Lord Umber continued to be indefinitely postponed, whenever she asked her father for a specific date. Not that she was eager for
it. Lord Umber treated Ailsbet with courtesy these days, but no more than that. She watched Umber carefully and wondered if he had heard rumors of a betrothal between Princess Marlissa and Edik, but if so, he showed no sign of nerves. He did not even seem angry with her, only distant.

The prince kept to his rooms unless the king commanded his attendance at court, so Ailsbet had no chance for a private conference with Edik until a spring fever struck the city and the palace itself. The king and almost the entire court fled the city for the western countryside, including Lord Umber. But Prince Edik, who was already ill, was left behind, and Ailsbet elected to remain with him.

The evening after the king and court had gone, Ailsbet knocked on the door to the prince’s chambers and found Edik’s groomsmen as far from the bed as they could be. They were eager to give her and her brother privacy, and they quickly left the prince’s rooms entirely, promising to return when she sent for them.

Ailsbet found Edik’s rooms as cluttered as usual, his clothes in heaps on the floor. Only his metal soldiers seemed well cared for, arranged along with the cannon and ramparts in wooden boxes. There was very little dust on any of the pieces. Ailsbet surmised
that Edik still played with them regularly. And why shouldn’t he? He was only thirteen.

Ailsbet knew her brother had not spoken for nearly a week after the queen’s death and had refused to kiss Lady Pippa on the cheek at the funeral, as commanded by King Haikor. Ailsbet both admired him and feared for him for that. He had always been so spoiled, and so he had been allowed to indulge his emotions as she never had. And yet, it was not good for him. He could not take his father’s place on the throne if he did not learn to disguise his feelings, as she had learned years ago. She wanted to know if he had been told of the impending betrothal with Princess Marlissa, and if so, what he thought of it.

“Edik?” she called. He did not answer her.

Stepping within, she saw his slight form move underneath the rumpled blankets. She pulled back the covers from his head and shoulders and was astonished at the sight. Her brother’s eyes were ringed with black smudges, and his whole face was flushed with fever. His stupid groomsmen had allowed him to become dangerously dehydrated. Were they not afraid of the consequences if the king discovered their neglect? Could they have been told to let him die? No, surely the king would not do
that—at least, not yet. He and Lady Pippa were not even married.

Ailsbet looked around the room. There was a basin on a table by the corner, but the water had several drowned insects floating in it.

Edik groaned.

She should have been here earlier, Ailsbet told herself, before her father and the rest of the court had gone. She moved closer. “Edik,” she whispered. “It’s Ailsbet. I’m here.”

He waved a hand weakly.

“What is it?” The sound of his wheezing was horrible, and his hand and forehead were burning. “I’ll get it for you, Edik. But calm yourself.”

He fell back out of sheer exhaustion and Ailsbet turned to the basin of water. There was no vessel to hold the water, so she cupped her hands, straining out the insects, and dribbled it into his mouth.

He swallowed, then promptly fell asleep. She stayed at his side until he woke some hours later, the fever gone, wracked with shivers. She was exhausted, and her neck was cramped from having been upright for so long. She desperately wanted to sleep, but she forced herself to stay awake.

Edik whispered, “Father?”

Of course, he wanted his father. King Haikor had
always doted on Edik. At least, he had before he had become involved with Lady Pippa.

“Father is not here,” said Ailsbet gently. “You know how afraid he is of the fever. He will welcome the news that you are well again.”

Edik nodded and slept again. Ailsbet remained with him, dozing on a chair beside his bed.

In the morning, he woke again and asked her to talk to him.

“What about?” asked Ailsbet warily. It had been too long since they had spent time together. She had many things to tell him, but she did not know if he was in any state to listen to her.

“Talk about anything. Only—not the taweyr. I don’t want to hear about the taweyr. That is all Father speaks of.”

So Ailsbet spoke of Master Lukacs and his first weeks in Rurik, ten years earlier, when he had not understood any of the rules of the kingdom or the two weyrs. He had made Ailsbet promise that she would bring music to her people when she ruled them as queen, another of his misunderstandings about how the rules of inheritance worked in the islands. She had had to explain to him that the oldest child inherited only if he was male, and Master Lukacs had been utterly perplexed.

“Would not the kingdom be best served by the eldest and most experienced heir?” he had asked.

“He thought of us all as barbarians,” said Ailsbet, smiling fondly at the memory. “With no music. And with our weyrs.”

“Barbarians,” murmured Edik.

“I wish I could write to him,” Ailsbet said, musing. “And tell him that I think of him still. But I don’t know where in Aristonne he is. Or if our father would allow letters to be sent from me in any case.”

At this, Edik’s eyes grew bright. “You can write,” he said.

“Of course, I can,” she said. “You have had tutors as good as mine, I should think.”

But Edik looked away from her. “I can’t write,” he said.

“Well, not now. You are too weak now, but as soon as the fever is gone, it will come back to you.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t write,” repeated Edik. “I never have.”

“Of course you have. Your tutors have shown Father many things you have written.” Ailsbet said.

“They wrote for me,” Edik said in a small voice. “I couldn’t do it. There is something that stops me when I hold a quill in my hand. I cannot see anything on
the paper but a jumble of letters staring back at me. They make no sense.”

Her father could not discover this, Ailsbet thought. It would only give him more reason to doubt Edik’s other abilities—his taweyr—and then there would be no hope for him.

“I must write a letter,” Edik said. “Father commanded it. He will expect it when I am well. He will punish me if I have not finished it.”

“I am sure he will want you to rest yourself and recover.” But Ailsbet knew very well that Edik was right. Her father had no tolerance for weakness, no matter what the cause. And in his son and heir, even less.

“The letter,” insisted Edik. His hands shook.

“Do you want me to help you write it?”

“Yes, please,” said Edik.

Ailsbet fetched some paper and a quill from her own rooms, then set an inkwell by the bed. She handed the quill to Edik, but he could not hold it in his hands.

“I’ll form the letters for you. Tell me what you would have me write for you. It will be your letter in everything else.”

“It is to Princess Marlissa of Weirland,” said Edik.

So he did know of the rumored betrothal.

“The king says that if I write a good letter, she will fall in love with me. And if she wants to, she can make me very happy, and I could not want for anything else,” said Edik. “But what if I do it badly, and she throws away my letter and will not hear my name spoken to her ever again? What will the king do to me then?”

“She will not throw it away,” said Ailsbet, though she supposed that did not mean that there was no chance the betrothal could be ended before it had officially begun. And that would make King Haikor angry, which would not be good for Edik. She tried to think of everything she had heard of Princess Marlissa. It was not much.

She told her brother, “I shall write, ‘To Princess Marlissa of Weirland, may her neweyr live long and her kingdom longer.’ ” Ailsbet spoke the words aloud as she wrote them. They were not Edik’s words exactly, but she had to help him along.

“Good, that sounds very fine. What else?” asked Edik.

“Tell her you admire her father. I have heard that she is very attached to him.” Lord Umber had made some remarks on this topic, comparing King Jaap’s refusal to marry again to King Haikor’s eagerness
after the queen’s death. Ailsbet wondered what it would be like to have such a father.

But then again, Princess Marlissa had the neweyr in abundance, as Ailsbet did not.

“Her father? Who does not know how to use his taweyr?” said Edik with a sneer that sounded very like King Haikor’s when he spoke of the other king.

Had he not just said he didn’t want to speak of the taweyr? “He rules his kingdom differently, that is certain,” Ailsbet said.

Edik picked at an old sore on the back of his hand. “Father says she has seen a portrait of me. What if she thinks I am too small and ugly to marry?” Though he had grown taller in recent months, he had spent much of his childhood conscious that he was smaller than his age mates in the palace, and she was sympathetic about that.

“I am sure there are other qualities in you that she will value, and you will grow into more,” said Ailsbet. She knew Duke Kellin would have made sure that the initial offer of betrothal had been acceptable to the princess—and her father. Had she seen a portrait of Edik? She must know his age, as well.

Edik snorted.

“What is it?” asked Ailsbet.

“It is different for you. You know that any man
will marry you if Father commands it,” said Edik.

He seemed utterly unconscious of the insult. Ailsbet bit back her anger and controlled her taweyr. “A man who is to be king must be valued for his wisdom and his foresight more than anything else.”

But Edik put his hands to his face. “Has the fever ruined my looks?” he asked. “Am I hideous?” He would not stop until Ailsbet handed him a mirror. “Pale,” he said with a sigh. “But I think I shall be well enough.”

Ailsbet brought his attention back to the letter. “You could tell Princess Marlissa of the king’s hounds,” she said. Edik loved his father’s hounds completely and protected them against his father’s rough handling. Perhaps Princess Marlissa would wish to know this. In truth, Ailsbet didn’t know what the other princess would care about.

“What would she care about my father’s hounds? You must think about more womanly things, Ailsbet,” he said. “I must flatter her and make her see me as strong.”