Untalented (25 page)

“Later. Take us to the hall.”

The reception hall? Saroya gripped the edge of her cloak. Something wasn’t right.

Saroya struggled to mask her surprise as she and Isolte entered the reception hall. She had expected a small gathering: the king, Martezha, and Lord and Lady Dorn. Instead, nobles packed the room. A murmur rippled across the crowd as Isolte removed her cloak and Saroya hesitantly followed suit. Her discomfort increased as she endured the stares of all these strangers. Was this not a private family matter? Suddenly the trap appeared clearly before her: Veshwa told her an Untalented daughter was dangerous to Urdig’s reign—Loric and Isolte planned to use her against him.

Saroya lunged for the door but Isolte grabbed her hand and jerked her across the floor. Saroya spotted Loric conversing with the king. Loric’s expression turned from boredom to satisfaction when he spied her in the crowd. He gestured to the king, and Urdig glanced in their direction. Martezha swept up to the two men, turning to see what drew their attention. She paled in shock at seeing Saroya in her finery then flushed an angry red. Isolte offered her husband a complicit smile, then curtsied in front of the king. Not knowing what else to do, Saroya imitated her.

Urdig waved them up. “Loric, you have brought me a new guest?”

“Your Majesty, may I present Saroya Bardan? I rescued her from a life of servitude and misery a week ago. I thought it important that you meet her.”

The king looked puzzled, but before he could speak, Martezha, no longer able to contain herself, interrupted. “How dare you bring this mongrel to my father’s court? Of course she was a servant. Not only is she a half-breed, she’s an Untalent. I want her out of my sight.” Several nobles moved away at the word “Untalent”, as though fearing plague, while others drew closer to eavesdrop. Saroya ignored Martezha’s slurs and mustered as much dignity as possible.

Urdig chided Martezha. “My dear, surely you do not wish to offend your uncle. Loric must have good reason …” His eyes widened and his voice trailed off as he spotted the ring hanging around Saroya’s neck. He reached for it but stopped short of touching her. “Where—where did you get that?”

Saroya looked him in the eye. “Your Majesty, may I speak with you in private?”

Loric was having none of it. “It was her mother’s.”

Urdig staggered as though struck. Eiden Callor, who stood nearby, moved to steady him. Martezha’s lips trembled with rage. Loric directed an unpleasant smile toward her.

“Your Majesty, it would appear all this time you have been duped. You shelter an impostor. Mistress Bardan tells an interesting story about how Queen Padvai’s other ring wound up in your supposed daughter’s possession.”

An excited babble rippled across the crowd. “The king, deceived in such a way …” “Did you hear her, she said she was Untalented …” Mortified, Saroya wished Loric would stop. While she was enjoying Martezha’s comeuppance, this was not how she’d hoped to introduce herself to her father. What if he rejected her in front of all these people? How could she ever live down the shame? Or convince anyone afterwards that she knew how to stop the plague? She couldn’t take her eyes off Urdig’s confused face.

A sudden movement caught Saroya’s peripheral vision. Martezha stepped in front of her and ripped the leather thong from her neck. “This is preposterous. I won’t have it. Some servant shows up with another piece of jewelry and you believe her over me?”

Eiden Callor grabbed Martezha’s wrist and pried the ring out of her clenched fingers. He then placed a hand upon the king’s arm. “Your Majesty, we should adjourn to a quieter location.” His significant look around the room snapped Urdig out of his paralysis.

“Yes, yes.” He searched the crowd. “Guffin, fetch the ebony box on my dresser. Bring it to us in the library.”

Saroya clutched her skirts as she moved with the small knot of people through several hallways. The men’s boots echoed through the tiled halls like hammer blows. She felt small and uncertain between Loric and Isolte.

Once in the library, Eiden Callor shut the door behind them and stood guarding the exit. As Saroya passed him, Callor pressed the ring into her palm. “I believe this is yours.” He did not sound happy.

Saroya took a seat in a leather-cushioned chair, avoiding the settee Isolte and Loric chose. Martezha paced the room, skirts swirling about her. Urdig approached Saroya’s chair and stood before her.

“Now child, tell me how you come to have this ring.”

Saroya swallowed then haltingly relayed her story—her days in Adram Vale, knowing she was an orphan, and the time when the Adepts gave her the first ring and parchment. She recounted the theft of the ring prior to leaving for U’Veyle, and her dismay when she discovered its significance. Martezha punctuated this news with disbelieving snorts.

Callor interrupted her monologue. “Majesty, Mistress Bardan approached me that evening. Her friend could not vouch that the ring taken from Martezha’s bags was one and the same. I judged her a desperate girl, willing to tell any tale to better her lot. I felt it prudent not to bother you with her story. I see now that I was gravely mistaken. If you request it, I will submit my resignation.”

Urdig grunted. “We will speak of the matter of your resignation later. Continue, Mistress Bardan.”

Saroya drew breath and recounted how the note left for her many years ago led her to search out Veshwa, who gave her the second ring.

“Do you still have this note?”

Saroya nodded, and rummaged in the pocket of her cloak for the well-worn piece of parchment wrapped in oilskin. Urdig examined it, but said nothing. A knock at the door provided a momentary distraction. Master Guffin walked in carrying a small, carved black box. The polished wood gleamed in the candlelight as the steward placed it on a table. King Urdig went to the table, opened the box and drew out a small square of folded velvet. He came back to Saroya and held out his hand.

“Give me your ring.”

Saroya held out the thin strip of leather in a shaky hand. She dropped the ring into his palm.
 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back.”

She nodded, a lump in her throat at the thought that he understood what it meant to her.

With great care, he unfolded the cloth and extracted a delicate twist of metal. He put the two rings together and they slotted into place, a perfect match.

He let out a slow breath then looked Saroya in the eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her own breath. “Well, well.” He glanced at Martezha. “The handwriting on the note is unmistakably Padvai’s. I suppose you didn’t steal it as well because you only had jewelry on your mind.” She squeaked in protest. He turned to Callor. “Eiden, please escort Martezha to her quarters. She is not to leave the castle until I say so. Send a delegation to Adram Vale. They are to discover as much as they can about the backgrounds of these two women. Our previous inquiries must not have delved deeply enough.”

Callor gripped Martezha just above the elbow and handed her over to Master Guffin, who led her from the room. Saroya could hear her shrill protestations all the way down the hall. Urdig turned to Loric. “It would seem, Lord Dorn, that I will eventually have to thank you for returning my daughter to me.”

Loric inclined his head. “Eventually?”

“The matter is too sensitive to confirm without further investigation. I will wait until the delegation returns from Adram Vale. In the meantime, Martezha will remain out of sight. Mistress Bardan as well. Rumors must be spreading like wildfire as it is.” Isolte whispered in Loric’s ear.

“My Lord, if you do not wish to acknowledge Mistress Bardan at this time, my wife and I will offer her the hospitality of our home until the matter is resolved.”

Eiden Callor start to protest and Saroya opened her mouth to chime in, but Loric forestalled her. He stared down Callor.

“My wife is most upset at the past treatment her niece received here. We will give her the courtesy she deserves.”

Urdig considered Loric then shrugged. “The Houses may interpret her staying in the castle as an implicit acknowledgment. Very well. We will do it your way.”

“But—!” Saroya tried to object—to be so close only to get sent away again!—but Loric grabbed her arm. She would bruise tomorrow where his grip tightened. Her misgivings about trusting him deepened.

“Come along, my dear. It’s best if we do things by the book,” Loric said.

Before she could say anything else or even mention the plague, Loric bowed and led Isolte and Saroya from the room.

Saroya stood in Loric’s study, refusing the offer of a chair. Loric, arms clasped behind his back, stared out one of the long windows. She had never seen his study before, although she had passed by several times during the course of her duties. Dark walnut paneling created a somber mood, enhanced by displays of ancient fighting weapons. An ornate desk faced a large fireplace. Resting a hand on the desk for support, she cleared her throat. He spun around.

“My Lord Dorn, I apologize for coming unannounced.” Though she really felt far from sorry. He’d used her. Now Saroya understood a bit better how Nalini felt when Saroya used Goha Ferlen’s name for her own aims. Her outraged simmered on a slow burn.

“How can I help you?” His tone did not match his words, and Saroya stiffened.

There was no point dancing around the issue. “Was it necessary to expose me so publicly? I would have preferred a private audience—as it is, rumors are flying, Martezha is throwing fits that can be heard clear down the coast, and the castle is in a complete uproar.”

“I give you everything you ever wanted and you dare question my methods? Come now, child, what does it matter how I chose to reveal you?”

Saroya swallowed her fear of what he might do to her. He was a powerful bully, yes, but still just a bully. He thought to keep her yoked to him. She had other ideas. “You know exactly how much it matters. Next we’ll be hearing calls for Urdig’s abdication.”

Loric’s smile was ugly. “If my ambitions are met at the same time as yours, we both win, don’t we? Surely you don’t believe my generosity should go unrewarded? I will determine those rewards, not you. Isolte tells me you had the plague.”

Saroya grew even more wary at the change of subject. “What of it?”

“Tell me how you got better.”

“Some kind women at an almshouse nursed me back to health.”

“Which almshouse?”

“What does it matter?”

He lunged at her and she found herself trapped between him and the desk. She shrank back. “People are dying. Yet you live. If I know who these ‘kind women’ are, I can persuade them to share their healing prowess with the kingdom.”

Saroya tried to hold his gaze but failed. Her eyes drifted down to the desk. She clutched the edge of the desk in surprise. Loric interposed a hand too late to hide the object that held her breathless in shock. She snatched it before he could sweep it into a pocket and held it in front of his nose. It was a twisted ring of metal, a matching peer to the one around her neck and the one at the castle, right down to the amethyst color and size of the inset stones.

“Where did you get this?” Her hand trembled.

Loric feigned nonchalance. He sauntered over to the door and closed it. “Do you really want to know? Think carefully, now.”

Saroya could hardly breathe. She had never seen any other jewelry quite like the ring on the leather thong around her neck. The ring at the castle matched exactly—the two fit like a mated set, although they did not hold together. Looking at this piece, she could imagine how the three would interlock like the parts of a puzzle.

Loric’s insidious voice continued on, mocking her. “The ring at the castle was Padvai’s most prized possession, by all accounts. To her second most prized possession, you, she gave its twin.”

“But why would she give you—?”

Loric smiled. A doubt niggled at the back of Saroya’s brain. She looked down at the ring. Back up into Loric’s gray eyes. His upturned lips. Understanding rushed in. She’d seen those eyes reflected back at her in mirrors and pools her whole life. She sank down into the leather chair next to the desk.

“Not Urdig.”