The Tears of the Rose (10 page)

9

U
nsettled and at loose ends, I wandered through the courtyard. It felt as if I'd been away forever, not just a few months. Drifts of filthy snow filled the corners, where it had been pushed aside and piled up, to keep the stones free for all the business of Ordnung. This close to the mountains, the winter snows fell deep and lasted the season.

The grief felt like this—shoved into the corners of my heart by daily concerns, where it didn't melt, but froze there, accumulating dirt in the shadows. Spring would take care of this stuff, but nothing could warm the unused corners of my soul. Perhaps Glorianna could, but as much as I tried to pray and welcome Her voice into my heart, She remained silent.

A group of young soldiers drilled at one end of the yard. Several looked my way, losing their focus. The instructor—a woman I hadn't seen before—rapped one on the helmet, a ringing blow like a bell. “Keep your head with your big sword, not the little one, young cock,” she barked. “Or you won't survive your first conflict and will never tup another pretty maid again.” She glanced at me then and looked chagrined, even afraid, when she saw who it was. “Apologies, Your Highness. No offense meant. I only saw the gown and—”

I nodded and moved past as quickly as I could.

This was who I'd been, once upon a time. Strolling about in my pretty gowns, being admired by the young soldiers with Andi, who was usually hoping to avoid her responsibilities and lessons, using me as cover to escape to the stables.

Just as she'd used me to escape into a world where she turned her back on us.

With her on my mind and the stables ahead, I made my way there. They smelled of wood, hay, and warm horses—and Andi. Her ladies used to despair of ridding her of the horsey smell for court, but the scent memory made me smile. Stable hands bowed and slipped out of my way as I followed the path to the stall where Fiona, Andi's horse, had lived. It suddenly occurred to me that it might be empty. Uorsin had threatened to kill Fiona if he had any reason to doubt Andi's loyalty. Surely she'd proven that.

But it filled me with awful dread, to imagine the gorgeous steed screaming and burning on a pyre, no matter what Andi had done to us all. Sorry I'd come, I started to reverse, then convinced myself Fiona would be there. Perhaps I'd take her with me to Windroven. She was a pretty, well-trained mare. Andi owed me that much.

But the box stall stood aching empty. Fiona was gone.

“Looking for something?”

Ursula emerged from the next stall, where her riding horse was stabled. Her fierce war stallion lived in another wing, where he wouldn't bother the mares. I waved at the empty space where Fiona should have been. “He killed her after all.”

Ursula studied the space, as if Fiona might have been misplaced. The straw bedding lay fresh and clean; the trough held nothing. Her brows pulled together in thought, and I nearly told her she shouldn't do that, but I knew she wouldn't care for such things.

“What?” I finally said, irritated with her delay. “You know something.”

She cast a measuring look over me, gaze lingering on the gown I'd dug out of my old premarriage wardrobe. It still fit perfectly. “You don't like it when I bring up Andi. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Just tell me if our father . . . burned the horse.” Why I had to know, I wasn't sure. It sounded disloyal to suggest it. “I really thought he only threatened to. Not that he would.”

She returned her gaze to the stall, arms folded, leathers dusty from whatever she'd been doing. “I wasn't sure, either. Before . . . I never would have considered it. Now . . . I'm not sure.”

Such an admission of uncertainty from Ursula made me uncomfortable, so I pushed past it. “So he did? Or you don't know?”

“Andi was riding Fiona when I saw her.” She didn't add more, saving me the mention of where and what had happened there.

“How is that possible? Fiona was here the whole time.”

Ursula shrugged, then picked at a flaw in the leather of her sleeve. “I suspect King Rayfe arranged to spirit her away.”

“That Tala demon! Did he want to use Andi's horse as leverage against her? Why would he need to—she made a vow to be his wife, and Andi wouldn't go back on that.” Or maybe she would, since I clearly didn't know my sister at all.

“True.” Ursula's lips curved and she shook her head absently. Then she brushed off her hands and ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair, stretching her spine. “I think he did it out of love, Ami.”

“Love?”

“You say it as if you don't know the meaning of the word. Yes, I think he wanted her to be happy and rescuing Fiona was a gesture of his regard for Andi.”

“But how would he have known?”

“One doesn't have to be around Andi for very long to know what matters most to her.”

Which wasn't me.

“I saw them together, Ami,” Ursula added in a gentle tone. “I could see they loved each other even before Andi said so.”

I sighed out a long breath, the empty stall so compelling somehow. Like the big hole Andi had left in my world. “I suppose that's it, then.”

Ursula didn't have to ask what I meant. We understood each other at least that much. “If you asked to see her, she would. You could go to Annfwn. Or send for her. There's very little she wouldn't do for you. Especially . . .” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Especially after what she did.”

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure what to think anymore. Nothing makes sense.”

“Perhaps it will eventually. Give it time, Ami.”

“Everybody keeps telling me that.” Bitterness filled my voice and I didn't try to rein it in.

“That's because time is the only thing that will heal your wounds. Nothing we can say or do for you will make a difference. We know that, though it's painful to see how much you're hurting.”

“I haven't cried for him.” Now that I'd told it to the White Monk it seemed easier to say.

“You will.”

“I don't know.” Deliberately I tossed my hair over my shoulder, a shadow of my flirtatious ways. “Maybe I'm just that shallow. As frivolous and spoiled as you think me.”

“I don't think that. I was angry when I said it and I'm sorry.”

“I don't see why you'd be mad at me.”

“I'm not. That's the thing.” The faint scent of guilt soured the sweet, warm smells of hay and horses. Her gray eyes seemed full of something unspoken. Abruptly she made a fist and slammed the fat part of it against the wooden beam, below the plaque with Fiona's name made in flowers. A horse whinnied and shuffled a few stalls down. “I have to go. Command performance with the King. Wish me luck.”

“Do you—” I hesitated. “Would you want me to come with you?”

I'd surprised her. Enough that she had to swallow her reflexive refusal and reconsider me. It irritated me a little, that it hadn't occurred to her to bring me along for moral support or advice, even—but then, I hadn't expected to offer.

Still, if I was to be Queen of Avonlidgh and Glorianna's avatar, then I needed to face some of the more difficult decisions. More than which dress to wear. In fact, I was a little sorry I'd chosen this delicate violet lace. It did lovely things for my eyes, but next to Ursula's fighting leathers, I'd look like a silly flower.

“Yes,” Ursula decided. “I would. Thank you for offering. It means a great deal to me.”

I nodded, the knot in my throat hard. “We are sisters, as Glorianna and Danu are sisters. We should help each other.”

“And Moranu.” Ursula cocked her head at me. I looked away, brushing a stray strand of hay from my skirts.

“Do you plan to change for the meeting?”

“No,” Ursula replied, striding out of the stables as I hop-skipped to keep up without planting a silk slipper in a horse leaving. “I'm not going to impress Uorsin by wearing a fancy outfit. And I feel more confident in my leathers. Battle ready.” Her thin lips twisted in a wry grimace.

“Are you . . . afraid of what he'll say?” I hesitated to ask it, but it seemed I should.

Ursula's hand dropped to her sword, her thumb passing over the topaz cabochon jewel. “Am I afraid? Fear is a funny thing. When people are trying to kill you on the battlefield, there isn't much time to be afraid. Beforehand—if you know it's coming, which a lot of times you don't—it's mainly nerves. Anticipation. It's afterwards, when I remember their faces, the brush of the steel that barely missed taking off my head, that's when I feel the fear.”

“So right now, it's nerves?”

She slid a sideways look down at me. “Maybe some.” She sighed. “But I also ask myself, what's the worst that can happen?”

I shivered. “Don't say that. It's bad luck.”

Only our father and the ever-faithful Derodotur waited in Uorsin's private study. The High King wore his crown, however, which was probably not a good sign, as much as it irritated him to have it on. He raised bristling eyebrows and leveled a cold glare on Ursula.

“What are you doing here, Amelia? You don't belong in this meeting.”

“Hello, Father!” I swept around the desk—dammit, that was a bit of a flounce—and kissed him on the cheek. “I haven't seen much of you, so I tagged along behind Ursula. You don't mind, do you?”

He patted my cheek affectionately. “It's always a delight to see you, Ami. How does my grandson come along?”

I kept my smile and laid a hand on my still-flat belly. “Gradually.”

He made a hmphing sound. “Summer is a long ways off.”

“I don't believe the process can be hastened,” I teased him.

Instead of chuckling, he glowered at me. “You make light, but these are dire times. We need that boy to secure the succession.”

I waved at Ursula, standing at parade attention, watching my little scene with interest. “There's our succession. Besides, I'm sure you'll live
forever
.”

Uorsin slammed a fist on the table, making me flinch—though Derodotur and Ursula barely seemed to notice. They were used to this, then. “Don't you coddle me, Daughter! It's become absolutely clear that I cannot leave my kingdom in your weak hands.” He spoke to Ursula now. “You lost me both Annfwn and a daughter. I feel sure a son would have done better.
I
would have done better.”

“Then why didn't you go?” Ursula put the question plainly, seeming unruffled. “I've wondered that time and again.”

“Because I trusted you,” he shot at her.

Ursula shook her head. “That's not the reason. I know better than that.”

Uorsin sat back in his heavy chair, an expression of utter disbelief on his face. “You dare to contradict me?”

“Yes. In this small circle, I do, as I never would elsewhere. You have, and always will have, my complete and utter loyalty. You are a great king, the glue that forms the peace that holds the Twelve Kingdoms together. Without you, we are lost.”

He grunted, pleased, though he didn't want to admit it. Ursula dealt with him well. Better than I did.

“High King Uorsin cannot cross into Annfwn—he made a blood vow.” Derodotur dropped the information as if casually noting the weather. Uorsin's visage flooded with rage. Derodotur faced him with ineffable calm. “They need to understand, both as your heirs and as their mother's daughters.”

A blood vow? To whom? But it did explain so much. What in the Twelve Kingdoms had he traded for such a stricture?

“In exchange for Salena's help in the Great War?” Ursula had that look as when she played chess with him and had executed a strategic move. She thought so much faster than I did. Perhaps Father was right—I didn't belong in this meeting.

“All this time, I left them alone, until those upstart Tala infected my daughter's mind, making her betray us all.
She
could have been our key into Annfwn. You were to bring her here, in chains or dead if necessary—do you care to explain your failure?”

I bit one knuckle to keep from gasping at that. Ursula flicked an unreadable glance at me.

“The guerrilla tactics they used made our regiments easy targets for their attacks, as I understand was also true at the Siege of Windroven. Once we were deep in the hills and forests, the landscape became their ally and our enemy. We could not pursue effectively, for their speed and ability to hide outmatched us. There seems to be only one entrance to Annfwn—through Odfell's Pass—but the way is steep, narrow, and treacherous.”

“Obstacles only.”