Trouble with Kings (38 page)

“Oh, couldn’t he,” she retorted. “I don’t interfere with the coast factions or the guild problems or any of the other monsters.” She faced me, her wide eyes reflecting the fire, the sheen of tears that had not fallen gleaming. “I could even flirt with the new Lord Dascalon, and Jantian Weth, and the north coast faction, and try to find out their secrets. But—strange as it may seem—I do have a sense of honor. I stay strictly with the social round. And if that cannot be recognized for what it is—if I am adjudged superficial because of it—”

“True.” I rubbed my aching temples. “I tell you what, Jewel. If he does marry her, I will buy a house on the sea and begin a music school, and if you like you can come live with me there.”

The tears fell. “I see what you’re doing. Whatever happens, you are offering me a home.”

“Yes.”

“I wish I deserved it,” she whispered, and went out, and closed the door.

I stared into the fire, but then I felt that pull again, and I knew if I made that little bit of effort I would see Jason’s face among the flames.

Trespass. Unwanted trespass.

I doused the lights and turned my back on the fire so I couldn’t see anything at all.

The next morning, I went to the music school for my weekly visit. As I rounded the corner I heard a fine tenor voice soaring up the scales in a warm up. Standing in one of the window alcoves to listen was a familiar figure: Corlis Medzar. I looked around quickly. No Gilian.

To my surprise, Corlis stepped toward me.

“Princess Flian,” she said, her nose elevated.

I bowed. What could she possibly want here? Or to be more precise, what could benefit Gilian to send her here?

She sidled glances both ways, then said something in a quick, low voice, too quick and too low for me to hear. All I made out was
Mistress Olith
.

“You wish to see the mistress? For what? To hire the singers? Or do you have a candidate to be interviewed for the school?”

Her fingers played with her fan, then up went the nose. “Yes.”

“Well, all you need is to ask. You don’t need me.”

I started to pass, then she whirled about. “It’s myself.”

I stopped, staring.

Her thin cheeks flushed, and the nose went higher than ever. When her expression was human—even embarrassed—instead of supercilious, she was rather pretty. Prettier, in fact, than Gilian, despite the latter’s fondness for her own babyish contours.

“I know what you think of my singing. I saw you at his grace’s reading, months ago—you and that Princess Jewel. So very refined!” She drawled the last word in an angry mockery.

I turned away.

“Wait. No, I apologize, I take it back. I-I got angry, because—look. I know I don’t sing well. That governess we had, she was a terrible teacher. I know I can sing. I
know
it. But how to learn to do it right?”

I faced her, wondering what sort of plot lay behind this amazing conversation. “You can hire anyone to teach you.”

Corlis flushed. “No I can’t. Mama says every coin goes to maintaining us here, and until one of us marries appropriately, there is not a tinklet to spare.”

I was about to say that a tinklet—the slang for a copperpiece—would not buy her much beyond a pastry tart, but then I looked at those dark eyes, and I did not see derision or superiority or anything except stark fear.

“You’re serious.” The words slipped out before I could think.

Again she flushed, and her lips soured. “You think you are the only one who loves music? Sitting up there in your royal rooms with harp masters whenever you want to whistle one up?” Her thin hands wrung on her fan.

“No. But I play for my own pleasure. It’s against custom to perform, unfortunately.”

“I can tell you why,” Corlis said. “It’s because your great-great grandmother had no talent whatsoever, and so when she took the throne, she declared that it was bad form for aristocrats to entertain one another at court. She brought in master players and singers. All we could do was dance. She almost ruined that, too, because she was so bad at it, but she knew no one would come to court if dancing was forbidden. It’s in the records if you don’t believe me. Your own archive—right here in the palace.”

“No, I believe you. My grandmother told me what happened, though not the reasons. I’ve never known how to change it.”

“Because you already have everything you want.”

“So it appears. But to keep coming back to me is to go round in circles. What exactly do you want? Lessons?”

“Yes. No. If Mama knew, she’d—” She gripped her fan again. “I stand out here and listen sometimes, but I can’t always hear the mistress. And singing in my head doesn’t really teach me much. If I could stand at the back of the classes. Pretend I was there to listen—” She gestured in the air, and dropped her hands.

“Come,” I said.

She followed me inside Mistress Olith’s office. We found the tall, white-haired woman busy with one of the younger teachers, who was dismissed with a nod.

“Your highness? Your ladyship?” The mistress curtseyed.

“I came to discuss music for a masquerade ball my brother wants to host next month,” I said. “And I want to arrange lessons with the musician the Weths brought—or maybe we can hire her for as long as she is willing. I’ll get that set up.”

Mistress Olith looked pleased. “That would be excellent for us.”

“I would also like to request, if I may, that Lady Corlis be permitted to attend the singing classes. She thinks of hosting a school on the coast, you see.” To my considerable surprise the lie came to my lips as easily as, well, any of Eleandra’s court finesses.

Corlis’s cheeks burned, but the tension in her eyes and lips eased to relief.

“Ah.” The mistress glanced from one of us to the other, then back again. To Corlis: “If you will follow me, your ladyship, I will introduce you to Master Balan, who can outline the schedule, and what we teach…”

While they were busy, I slipped out again, to spare Corlis and me any more awkwardness.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The sky was clear overhead on the day of Maxl’s masquerade ball, the air sharp and cold as I glided along on the ice. Laughter and whoops etched themselves in frosty clouds. Today’s impromptu skating party had been Jewel’s idea—and it was open to the whole court, whatever age. No exclusive party. I was there representing Maxl, who was away from Carnison, as he had been for a week.

Younger brothers and sisters not yet officially presented were busy on the frozen pond, chasing, whirling, playing daisy chain. The rest of us skated about, most in couples, some swooping and gliding round the others with athletic grace.

I proceeded slowly. The garden lay under its wintry blanket of white, its contours smoothed almost into unrecognizability.

In the center of an admiring group, mostly of men, Jewel whirled about, one foot lifted with grace, an arm arced. She’d told me she had little else to do during those long winters in the mountains with Jaim. Vrozta and some of the others had made frequent parties up to one of the frozen lakes to skate and sled race with the mountain-village Drathians, who had no idea who they were.

Several people looked on in envy. Gilian Zarda sat at the side with two friends, Elta at her post on one side and Harlis Spaquel, the duke’s cousin, on the other. Gilian’s hands were hidden in a blue-white yeath-fur muff, her blond curls artfully arranged to escape her bonnet in ringlets.

Gilian pursed up her little mouth as she glared at Jewel skating so gracefully, making it look effortless.

“You aren’t skating, child?” Lord Zarda addressed Gilian as he walked by, arm in arm with one of the coast dukes. Though he was a head and shoulders shorter than his companion, his manner, as always, caused him to dominate.

“Alas, Papa. This sport is not designed for those cursed with refined tastes.”

Two or three people nearby faltered. Unhearing, or unheeding, Jewel and those surrounding her skated on, swirling and swooping. I pushed grimly on, not wanting to hear whatever the Zardas were saying to one another behind me.

Althan Rescadzi zoomed close, turned, his blades sending up ice shards as he came to an expert stop at my side. His nose was red, his curling dark hair dotted with ice-frost. “Flian.” He grinned, looking around to make certain we were not overhead, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “What’d you do to my cousin?”

Corlis and Riana Dascalon skated with several of the coastal fellows on the other side of the pond. Her back was firmly turned Gilian’s way.

“Me?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything to Corlis.”

Althan shook his head. “She’s changed of late. Couldn’t account for it. Thought she had a hankering for someone or other, the way she’s begun standing up to my monster of an aunt in favor of Everna and Jantian.”

I picked out Jantian Weth’s thin form amid the cluster.

“They want to marry, is that it?”

He snorted. “They’ve wanted to marry since they were sprats. He was supposed to forget her and bring back a rich Sartoran bride, but instead he wisely brought back all the very latest fashions.”

“Ah.” I laughed, understanding now. The Weths, despite their lack of fortune and their being a cadet branch, always had to be in fashion. My grandmother had once told me in her day they’d been exactly the same.

“And there is no chance of a fortune unless Ghan Harbor gets widened—and even then who’s to say Baron Weth will hold Ghandri-on-Sea?”

One of the northern harbors was to be widened for great trade-ships. The debate was over who would be appointed to govern. Lord Zarda was campaigning to make certain that would be he or one of his allies.

“So what did you do to Corlis? It can’t be Everna’s return to court that makes her so different.”

“It has nothing to do with me,” I said.

Althan’s bushy brows went up. “Something does. When Babyboots made one of her customary charming remarks about you at the Zarda card party last night, Corlis gave her a flat denial. It was worth being in that stuffy room yawning over cards all night, just to see Gilian jump like she’d been stung by a wasp.”

I snickered. “My compliments to Corlis. But in truth, there’s nothing.”

“There is something, and what’s more, you’re protecting her,” Althan contradicted, grinning. “You getting into intrigue at last?”

“No.” I smiled. “That’s why I know nothing.”

Althan laughed. “Well, continue doing nothing, and see if you can win the monster-mother over to the Weths. Jantian’s as good a fellow as he ever was, and a staunch supporter of your brother, whatever he decides in the harbor matter. But old Auntie Medzar is seeking money first and power last, and won’t let Everna out of her sight until Jentian is married to someone else.”

He saluted and with a few strong running steps whooshed along the frozen stream out of sight beyond a clump of winter-bare yew. I followed more slowly, soon passing by Gilian and her entourage again.

“Oh, do be careful, Flian,” Gilian called, waving with one hand crimped in its tight mitten. “You look so…so unsteady.”

“As unsteady as I feel,” I replied cheerily. “Well, I’ll not spoil your view. See you tonight at the masquerade.”

“If your brother returns.” She rose and shook out her skirts. Elta half-rose, but Gilian patted her hand, and she sat down again. Elta and Harlis watched Gilian follow me.

“Oh, he’ll be back. After all, this masquerade was really his own idea.”

She walked on the side of the stream, kicking her way through the snow as I skated. We were, for once, eye to eye. It was strange looking straight into her face—and from the way she looked back, she appeared to find it strange as well.

“I don’t suppose you know where he went.” She dimpled at me. “Oh, I’m sure it’s great state business. But—” She made one of her dainty little gestures. “Business waits here on his return.”

“Border inspection, he said.”

“That couldn’t wait?”

Did she actually think I was stupid enough to give her a real answer?

She turned her attention back toward the iced-over stream. “They all seem to like Princess Jewel’s charming idea.” She waved at the stream and the pond beyond.

“It was a good idea, wasn’t it?”

“If you like this sort of thing. So how much longer are we to be delighted with this visitor from Ralanor Veleth? Many wonder if your brother is contemplating some sort of…alliance with that great warlike kingdom,” she went on. “It is not a comforting prospect.”

“You would have to ask my brother.”

“But he’s not here.” Another dimpled smile. “And Princess Jewel is
your
guest.”

“She is a royal envoy. You were at her Presentation. Jewel finds her stay agreeable,” I said finally. “I find her company enjoyable. Maxl feels her presence aids the progress of the trade talks between Lygiera and Ralanor Veleth.”

“Dantherei is said to be a charming place,” Gilian lisped sweetly. “She would probably do quite well there, with her style of being an envoy.”

She made her way with dainty steps to where a clump of the older generation watched the skaters. I stared after her. Had Gilian Zarda just made a threat? Yes she had.

I didn’t talk to Maxl about emotions, but this was a political matter.

It was time to get ready for Maxl’s masquerade ball.

Debrec was finishing with my hair when a knock came at the door. Jewel entered, looking dazzling in sky blue and gold. She walked around me, nodding in satisfaction. “Maroon really is your color,” she stated. “And you look graceful as a swan with all those loops and loops of ribbons and lace. Are those silk roses holding up the flounces?”

“Yes.” I spread my skirts in an extravagant curtsey.

She curtseyed back, then added with a brilliant smile, “Maxl’s getting ready. We passed in the hallway.”

“I knew he’d return on time. This is his party.”

“I don’t understand why he had to tour the eastern border this week.” Jewel sat with care on a hassock. “I trust Spaquel is not making some kind of trouble.”

“Contrary, Maxl says he’s been as deferential as can be. I love your gown.”

It was a great bell of delicate tissue, artful drapes bound up in lace. A sash at her waist set off her lovely figure. Her mask dangled from her fan-cord, a pretty confection of blue and silver; her hair was elaborately done up with pearls and silver threads braided through. She put her head to the side. “I hope there is no great danger that the troublesome envoy from trouble-causing Ralanor Veleth cannot hear about.”