Trouble with Kings (42 page)

Bringing me to the day of the betrothal celebration. With it arrived Jewel. Though the winter weather was grim, freezing and gray, the aristocratic houses all down the royal way shone lights, and so too did the guest wings of the palace.

I was thinking about Jewel and her long absence as the last touches were put to my gown and hair, when I heard her familiar tap at the door.

“Come in!” I cried, rising.

It was indeed Jewel. She sailed in, resplendent in blue and white and silver. She paused and looked around, her expression perplexed. The oldest pieces of furniture would stay, but the last of my things had been packed up and sent, for we would depart in the morning.

“It is so empty here.” She rubbed her hands up her arms. “I-I know this will seem very odd, but this is the most convincing evidence that you truly mean to leave Lygiera. By your own choice.”

“An act of madness?” I laughed and embraced her.

She flung her arms round me and hugged me, hard, then she stepped back. “Oh, Flian. I have felt so terrible.”

“Not on my account, I hope.”

“Yours and Maxl’s, but mostly my own.” She grinned wryly, then looked around again, as though seeking someone.

“We are alone. You may speak freely.”

Tears gleamed in her eyes. “I had to go away. You see that, don’t you? Maxl came to me that morning after the ball when Jason first arrived, and said that I was to make a pretense of welcome, or withdraw.”

“Ah.” I gave her a hug of sympathy.

She nodded, one side of her mouth lilting up in a very lopsided smile. “Oh, did we quarrel. It was a merry brangle, quite long and loud and awful, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“It had become a state question. That’s the way our lives are defined.”

“I know that.” She shrugged sharply. “He told me that he had the good of the kingdom, and your happiness, as his priorities, and he stuck steadily to that position while I raged and stormed and stamped and declared that no one could possibly love Jason—that it was only a momentary madness on your part, and your inexperience had dazzled you but it wouldn’t last out a week, that Jason only courted you—if he did—to make inroads into Lygiera, that—oh, who cares?” She gulped and drew a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“But I do, because you’ll soon be gone.” Her face contracted, and tears spilled over. “Gone! And I wasted what could have been our last weeks together in brooding far away.”

“Because you wish to stay here, do you not?”

Again a gulp. “Yes.”

“And so you should,” I stated.

She sighed. “I will, but first I had to think. I see now that my position was really this. I wanted Maxl to make me, and my feelings, his first priority. And he can’t. He never can. Ever.”

Again I embraced her.

She trembled in my arms, and then whirled free of my grip, and dashed her fingers across her eyes. “That’s the true meaning of monarchy, isn’t it? The kingdom must come first. Why didn’t I see it in Tamara, who is supposedly so powerful?”

“And so?”

“And so, if I want to win him, then I must make Lygiera my first priority, instead of merely loving it because it is not boring, gloomy, dreadful Lathandra!” She smiled, and straightened up. “So I will smile, including at Jason—though I shall wish forever that you had fallen in love with Jaim. But.” Her brows drew down. “If I ever find out that Jason has been cruel to you, I will come and kill him. I swear it.”

I said, trying not to laugh, “If I thought such a vow needed, I would not be going away, Jewel.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. But no matter.” She smiled through the last of her tears. “I want you to prove me wrong.”

And so she joined the three of us in the throne room for the troth ritual, which defined the treaty that our marriage would sanction. I scarcely remember what words I said or heard. That part of my mind stays numb. What I do remember is the expressions on their faces: Maxl’s pride, the light reflecting steadily in his eyes; Jewel’s passion, making her more beautiful than ever, and Maxl’s gaze straying her way; Jason’s steady regard, and the warmth of his hand clasping mine.

Then my mind is a blur of candlelight, of brilliant reflections off crystal and silver, of the smells of hothouse blossoms and the fresh sprays of greenery. We were dancing alone, watched by uncountable eyes. I could not imagine what went on behind those courtier gazes. Even Gilian Zarda was coy but cooperative, her false joy expressed in dimpled smiles divided equally between Jason and me. An effort in friendliness due to the reputation of Ralanor Veleth, to the fact that I was going to be a queen, and to her hopes, not the least relinquished, of Maxl.

But I did not speak to her, for I no longer had to pretend even a social regard. By the end of another day I would be gone, and we would dwindle to unloved memory in each other’s mind.

What I do remember, with the distinct recall impelled by intense emotional response, was my first glimpse of Garian Herlester. For he was there, having arrived that day. Dressed splendidly in his house colors of violet and gold, he looked exactly as he always had: sardonic, laughing, and a little angry.

The second dance was the signal for everyone to join, Maxl leading it with me.

When it ended, and Maxl led me back to the thrones, Garian appeared at my side. He held out his arm, a gesture of grace and imperiousness that made me take a step back.

But Maxl bowed and relinquished my hand. Jason’s smile was amused, betraying no alarm whatsoever. It was my choice, but I suspected that he wanted me to dance with Garian, and to listen to whatever he might inadvertently reveal.

“Come, Cousin.” Garian slid his arm around me. The dance—I realized too late—was a waltz. Garian’s hazel eyes glittered in the blazing candlelight. He had been drinking. I could smell it.

My heart slammed, and I felt sick. Maxl had vanished among the swirling, flashing velvets and gems. He danced with a foreign diplomat and did not glance once our way—but he was near, as was Jason.

Three steps, four. I felt Garian’s breath stir the top of my hair, and dropped my chin down to diminish the sense of proximity.

He said, “Tonight you are as beautiful as Eleandra, and you always were more interesting. I wish I’d realized that sooner.”

“What?”

Of course he’d intended to take me by surprise. I looked up into that mocking, passionate jade-colored gaze, the edgy smile that presaged cruelty as easily as it did humor.

He steered us expertly between two couples. “Meaning I would be marrying you instead.”

“Never,” I said. “Never.”

He laughed, a soft laugh, and tightened his grip.

I stiffened, seized with the longing to rip free of his grasp, but I knew that it would cause untold political consequences—even if I could actually get free.

“On the other hand, since I intend to destroy Jason Szinzar, doing it through you has a certain appeal of completeness. But you might not survive it. We shall see.”

I took a deep breath. “If,” I stated, “you are going to spend the entire dance gabbling threats like a fool, I’ll thank you to let me free, because I don’t want to hear it.”

“You will stay with me until the music ends,” he retorted. “But pull your jaw in. I have spoken my warning.”

Another glance. He smiled down at me, a strange smile that went beyond anger or revenge or pettiness or cruelty.

He said more softly, “You do not feel it, do you?”

“Feel what?” Though I knew, because his grip, his breathing, the rapid beating of his heart through his velvet and linen and my pearl-encrusted satin bodice all buffeted me with his desire.

“Amazing.” He frowned, for a moment more puzzled than angry. “I can have any woman I want—half of them will be chasing me before evening’s end—except you. Is that, and that only, the lure? Or is it that innate sense of honor, even in the face of the worst intimidation, that doesn’t exist for the rest of us? The attraction of opposites?”

I almost said,
Except Jason has the same sense of honor
, but I knew better than to say anything about Jason at all that could be used against him.

So I returned a blank face.

“So why Jason?”

Possible answers whirled through my mind as we whirled across the ballroom floor, ending with the conviction that I did not owe him the truth, for it would be twisted to his own ends, and that, joined with his careless cruelty, was why I could never have loved him.

“I am marrying Jason for his taste in clothes,” I said loftily.

Garian laughed, sparking speculative glances from the couples near us. And as the music was ending, he brought us in a series of tight whirls to the edge of the ballroom, where I discovered with profound relief Jason stood.

With a gesture of deliberate grace Garian placed my hand on Jason’s, bowed to me and vanished in the crowd.

Jason led me out onto the floor. “He threatened me,” I began.

“Too many ears now.” Once again we danced.

Later, when we were alone at last in my nearly empty room, I told him what had happened.

He listened closely, his face unreadable, and at the end he nodded. “I know how to deal with Garian,” was all he said, but it was enough.

Chapter Thirty-Six

We arrived in Lathandra at night, riding side by side at the head of a spectacular honor guard—most of whom had chosen to ride to the border and meet us. Had Garian wished to cause mischief, he would have found a war on his hands. I expect his own guard—and his hired swords—watched in silence from the heights, no doubt in relief that there had been no orders to waylay us along Treaty Road, for a good portion of Ralanor Veleth’s high-ranking regional commanders and their own guard had joined our party.

Everyone was on horseback. The roads were still bad except along certain well-guarded military routes. I had left Carnison’s exquisite, perfumed palace and found myself surrounded by people in military dress, weapons polished, helms gleaming, chain mail jingling. But this was where I had chosen to be, and so I looked past the warlike image and contemplated the faces of the men and women who looked back at me.

And what I saw was not the trained mask of empty politesse of home. I saw speculation, curiosity, cautious approval, sometimes wariness. The approval, I was glad to note, appeared most often.

The night we arrived in Lathandra, we discovered the entire city turned out to stand in the snow, holding torches. Two thin rivers of fire led up the road to the castle, which was ablaze with light and streaming banners.

“This is all for you.” Jason’s breath clouded in the frozen air.

How long had those people stood in the snow? I met their gazes as we rode past, and I smiled and waved until my fingers were numb and my face ached. But I didn’t want to pass one of them without some kind of acknowledgement.

Markham met us in the great courtyard. His face, in the torchlight, was as expressive as I had ever seen it. He bowed to me, actually smiling, and held out his hand as a gesture of welcome.

Jason said, “Markham will take you inside. I’ll finish up here and be along.”

I took Markham’s arm and we walked into the corridor so familiar from summer. How different were my emotions now! The residence wing was all lit and warm, with scented boughs put over doors.

We walked in silence, but it was a companionable silence. I can’t say how or why I knew, for Markham was even less expressive than Jason, but I felt his approbation, and I wondered if he felt my trust.

Markham led me down the main hall, past the stairs that would have taken me up to my old rooms next to Jewel’s. Instead, we walked to the end, and up a carved stairway that harked back hundreds of years. I had never known where Jason’s rooms lay; as we trod up the stairs I contemplated Eleandra walking where I had walked. Where was she now? Either in the arms of her cold-eyed Lord Galaki, or else courting some prince I had never met, her sojourn in Ralanor Veleth rapidly fading to mere bad memory.

How strange life is, I thought as Markham opened two great carved doors onto a marble-floored vestibule. Two more grand doors awaited us. Markham opened one and bowed me inside.

I walked into a huge sitting room, where all my things had already been set amid old rosewood furnishings. I turned around. Markham stood there, watching my reaction.

“I take it this will be my room?” I gestured.

“Queen’s private sitting room,” he said. And, “Welcome.”

It was his tone that made me blush, for it conveyed more real greeting than any prepared speech might have.

“I’m glad to be here.” Because it was Markham, I added, “It feels strange. But right.”

He bowed again, a smile narrowing his deep-set eyes.

I drew in a breath. “I have a question, but it does not concern the kingdom, or Jason, it concerns you. So if you don’t want to answer it, I won’t be insulted.”

Markham gave me a thoughtful nod. “I believe I know your question. I also believe you would not want to hear the details,” he said after a long pause, during which his eyes had gone diffuse, as if he looked into a very dark past. “Suffice it to say that once, at a time when all the evidence was most damning, Jason Szinzar trusted my word. I lost everything I had once possessed, for that was justice. Any alternative would have destroyed the kingdom, in time. But I was left with my life, and more important, my honor. They belong to him. And now to you.”

My palms were damp, my mouth dry. The quiet voice was exactly as emotionless as always, but I’d learned something about masks, and the cost of maintaining them.

Do I thank him? No. “I understand.”

“Yes. I thought you might,” was the response. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I thank you, but if you’ve other things to see to, don’t think you need to stay with me. I’ll be happy to explore around these rooms. Get used to things. Until Jason is finished with his own tasks.”

He bowed again and in silence withdrew, closing the door behind him. His past was his own to keep. But there was one gift I could give him, if he chose to accept it, and I would speak to Jason about it once I had settled in: I would invite Markham to bring his little boy to Lathandra, and I made a mental vow that the child would be treated exactly as any children Jason and I might have.