‘Possibly. Or perhaps –’ He breaks off to stifle a yawn. ‘Forgive me.’
‘Lucien, you should go and rest. We can talk about this later.’
‘Of course.’ He picks up a bracelet of mine from the table – fine gold filigree, made to look like a feather curling around my wrist – and twirls it in his fingers. But he makes no move to leave.
‘My lord, is something wrong?’
He sighs. ‘When I was in the laboratory at Merl, examining your father’s books, I found something that …’ his frown deepens, ‘something that worried me.’
I wait for him to continue.
‘My lady, has it occurred to you …’ He stops again, still focused on the bracelet, a tiny shake of his head suggesting he is trying to dismiss some unwelcome thought.
‘Lucien?’ A coil of fear makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. ‘Please, tell me.’
‘This chemist friend that Siegfried mentioned, the one who supposedly produced the poison that is killing the king …’ He places the bracelet carefully back on the table and looks up at me. ‘Your Grace, has it occurred to you that Siegfried’s friend might have been your father?’
Fourteen
‘My father? Don’t be ridiculous, Lucien!’ I jump up and prowl about the room, until my gaze alights on the book I’m reading at the moment; a slim volume of poetry my father gave me for my birthday one year. I snatch it up and clutch it to my chest. ‘My father was a good man. He studied to be a healer, not a murderer.’
‘I know that, but –’
‘And besides, Siegfried says his friend created the potion that forces me to transform, as well as whatever is poisoning the king. If my father had developed such a potion, do you really think that he wouldn’t have given it to me? That he would have taken that secret with him to the pyre? It’s impossible.’
Lucien doesn’t answer.
My chest tightens. My father certainly had a motive, if he did indeed suspect his brother of orchestrating my mother’s death. And Siegfried himself told me that they’d met.
But it’s still impossible.
I flip to the front of my book and read the inscription: To my beloved daughter, for her fourteenth birthday – ‘And where the stars sing, there will you soar. And where the stars fall, there will you be free.’ Another quotation from the Litanies. ‘My father loved me.’
‘Of course he did. But what if this friend is actually more than one person? There’s no reason we should assume Siegfried is telling the truth. Maybe someone else created the transforming potion. But your father developed the poison.’
I shake my head, impatient. ‘Why are you saying these things?’
Lucien holds out a small package that has been sitting next to him on the sofa. ‘I found this, in your father’s laboratory.’
I take the package unwillingly, and look inside. One of my father’s notebooks, though smaller than the ones he typically used. And as I begin to flip through it, I see that the layout is not in the same style as the rest of my father’s books either. Usually he started with observations about a particular illness – symptoms, occurrence, rapidity of spread of infection and so on – and from that would then start concocting experimental draughts. But this book … It doesn’t seem like a book of cures. I scan the page open in front of me: Mountain scabious, slow-acting but method of delivery not clear, too obviously present for direct consumption.… Dolorous ant, very venomous but difficulty in extraction may not make it worthwhile … Entry after entry in my father’s cramped handwriting. I keep turning the pages until I come to a place where someone – Lucien? – has tucked a bookmark. The writing is more uneven here; I take the book to the window and tilt it towards the light, squinting at the words.
‘ … and since the rock dragon has survived the procedure, giving us the possibility of obtaining more venom, I have proceeded to the next stage of the experiment. I look forward (with some trepidation) to discovering how the compound poison manifests itself. I anticipate some damage to the skin – lesions or suchlike – may be the earliest indicator …’
The rock dragon on the beach, with the broken chain around its neck.
The lesions that I saw on my uncle. Similar, now I think about it, to the weeping sores marring my father’s skin before his death. Is it possible that he had been experimenting on himself?
And who is the ‘us’ he refers to?
I slam the book shut.
Lucien is watching me.
‘It can’t be true.’ I take a deep, shuddering breath. ‘It can’t be true, because …’ Because if it is, then how much else that I thought I knew to be true is actually a lie?
I stare down at the book in my hands. It’s evidence, perhaps, of my father’s complicity in the king’s illness. But I still have no evidence of Siegfried’s involvement. All I can do is repeat what he’s told me: that he is planning to seize the kingdom. That he believes me to be a willing accomplice. My heart beats faster. Would other people believe the same? There are certainly enough rumours about me. What if I’m brave enough to claim it as the truth?
‘Turn me in.’
‘What?’ My clerk frowns, not understanding.
‘Use this as proof. I’ll write a confession – I’ll say that Siegfried and I have been working together, using my father’s notes; that we planned to take the throne. Summon the Dark Guards to arrest me, and I’ll tell Convocation everything Siegfried told me.’
‘I’m not going to do that.’ Lucien is shaking his head. ‘You’re in shock, Aderyn, but there’s no reason to –’
‘We don’t have any other options, Lucien.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘No, I’m not. Hand me over. If the queen is looking for some reason to go after Siegfried, this will provide it. Maybe someone will be able to find Flayfeather’s body. And you’ll probably be given Atratys as a reward.’
Lucien pushes himself up from the sofa and begins striding about the room. ‘Madness! You know what they’ll do to you if you confess to treason? They’ll take you out to the arena and then –’
I talk over him, trying to focus on Lucien’s future, not my inevitable execution. ‘Of course, the Skein would have to be summoned –’ to resettle a dominion would require the consent of the whole assembly: monarch plus Protectors plus Convocation – ‘but I’m sure they would be happy to make you the new Protector.’
My clerk makes a sound – somewhere between a laugh and a groan – and drops his head into his hands. ‘I don’t want Atratys.’
‘But why not? You’d be a much better Protector than me. Aron understands: there’s no place in the kingdom for a noble who can’t fly. And Atratys deserves better than a Protector who cannot transform, who cannot truly protect.’ I run my tongue over my dry lips. ‘You deserve better.’
‘No.’ Lucien looks up; to my surprise, his eyes are full of anguish. ‘I’m not a traitor, Aderyn. And I –’ He breaks off, breathing hard. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re asking of me. And you’re wrong. I doubt I’d do any better than you, in the circumstances.’
I put the book of poisons down next to the book my father gave me and press the heels of my shaking hands against my eyes. Perhaps my father was tricked by Siegfried, as I was for a time. Perhaps he meant only to scare his brother, to force him to some confession. He was a good man. But a good man can still do terrible things.
I, of all people, should know that.
‘It was horrible, Lucien: the way Flayfeather died. And I was the one who told Siegfried to kill him. I stood there and watched him suffer. And I was glad.’
Lucien comes and stands next to me. Is he going to take me in his arms? Hold me, the way he did the night that Patrus attacked me? I wish he would. My heart – all of me – aches to rest against him. To feel protected, if only for a moment. But he just puts one hand hesitantly on my shoulder.
It’s all I can reasonably expect, I suppose.
‘It wouldn’t have made a
ny difference, Aderyn. Whatever you said or did, Siegfried was always going to kill him.’
‘Perhaps.’
I’ll never actually be certain.
With an effort, I put my father out of my mind. There is yet another wedding rehearsal later this morning – the last one, I hope – so I send Lucien away to rest and summon Letya and hope that the other participants will not notice (or at least not comment upon) how weary I look.
Letya bullies me into eating some breakfast before I leave my rooms, and I’m glad: the rehearsal drags on for nearly four hours. The Venerable Mother insists on taking us through every detail of the ceremony. We hear (more than once) the readings from the Litanies. We listen to the Responsories, sung by a chorus of flightless singers huddled precariously near the edge of the platform. We practise walking and kneeling at the right moments. For some reason Siegfried himself isn’t there, and Odette has to make her vows to the Venerable Mother instead, but it makes it easier for me to slip away with my cousin when we are finally released.
Together she and I wind our way down the main staircase to the entrance hall, then out to the wide stone steps that lead to the inner courtyard; we are making for the sanctuary. The bridge that spans the courtyard – vaulting over a stream that runs from the mountains to the fjord – is being cleaned; there are servants, gloved as usual, scrubbing the white, crystal-flecked marble even whiter, in preparation for the wedding. They stop their tasks and bow as we walk past.
After the brilliance of the sunlit courtyard the darkness of the sanctuary blinds me; my eyes take a few moments to adjust. Odette has moved towards one of the side chapels. I follow, watching the motions of her body as she kneels briefly then rises to light a candle before the image displayed on the chapel wall. She’s as graceful as one of the flightless ballet dancers we watched perform in the great hall, what seems like months ago now.
‘Well, cousin, shall we walk?’
There’s no one else here, as far as I see, so I link an arm though hers and we begin strolling around the edge of the main circular space. Our footsteps on the inlaid floor echo through the dusty shadows.
‘How long have you known Siegfried, Odette?’
‘Not long really, I suppose. He spent some time at court while he was growing up, as most nobles do. But he is a little older than Aron and me, and Aron never liked him. And I was too nervous to talk to him. I had to be content with admiring him from a distance.’ She smiles slightly and glances sideways at me. ‘Why?’
‘Because he mentioned some things, during the time we spent alone.’ I pause, frowning; I’ve made it sound as if he was discussing his favourite food. ‘I mean, he confessed something.’
‘Confessed?’ Odette’s brows arch. ‘You’re making me nervous.’
‘You’re right to be nervous.’ I try to think of some way of softening what I’m about to say, but I can’t. Instead I stop walking and face her. ‘Siegfried is responsible for your father’s illness, Odette. He means to kill the king. And later …’
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me he’s planning to kill me too.’ Her voice is light and flippant. ‘Whatever Aron and Lucien may say, Siegfried is not his father.’
‘No: he’s far worse. He plans not to kill you, but to drug you. To trap you in the form of a swan. Permanently.’
She laughs in relief. ‘Ridiculous. It isn’t possible. He’s been leading you astray, cousin. Or you’re trying to frighten me.’ Her smile fades. ‘Are you that desperate to separate us, Aderyn? Do you really think that if I break off the engagement he will turn to you instead?’
‘No! I want nothing of the sort. If only you knew how many lies Siegfried has told. Even my ability to transform is a lie: it’s a potion he gives me that changes my shape, not me. I was … I was utterly deceived by him, as you have been. Please, Your Highness, you have to listen to me –’
‘But I don’t, cousin. The only thing I have to do is get married.’
I clench my fists. ‘Odette, I am trying to find evidence to support my accusations, but in the meantime, you must protect yourself –’
‘I’ve always loved this window.’
Confused, I follow Odette’s gaze and stare up at the huge stained-glass window. It must face south-west; the colours of the glass are glowing as if lit by fire. The window shows a map of the kingdom, but instead of the familiar borders of the dominions and the Crown Estates there are pictures: tiny, frozen images of Solanum. A snow-capped mountain; a green meadow; a turquoise lake; a golden-leafed oak tree. Too many for me to take them all in.
‘Our kingdom is beautiful, is it not?’ my cousin asks.
‘Yes. It is.’
She turns to face me. ‘You tell me to protect myself. But who will protect the people of the kingdom, if I do not?’
‘Aron actually wishes to rule. If we could convince Convocation –’
Odette shakes her head. ‘You know the Decrees, cousin. If I refuse to marry, I cannot rule. Aron cannot fly, so he cannot rule. And now you tell me that you too are flightless. If my father dies and I am not wed, or I refuse the throne, who will Convocation turn to? Who is next in line?’
I mutter the answer. ‘Aurik of Olorys. And after him, Siegfried.’
‘Exactly. Siegfried.’ Her voice hardens. ‘And I could name you a dozen courtiers who will be willing to marry him, murderer or not, for the chance to wear the crown.’ She takes my hands. ‘As I said before, I’m not blind, cousin. I know that my betrothed is not the kind of man I would wish him to be. I accept that you are trying to help me. And if you had this evidence of which you speak –’
‘But if we tell Convocation, they could help. There is a body somewhere below the Citadel –’
‘Cousin, you are a newly anointed Protector who cannot fly and who has spent only a few weeks at court. You have no support outside your own dominion. Convocation will not believe you.’ She sighs. ‘They will be too afraid of Siegfried to believe you. Unless the queen steps in, I will marry him. If what you say is true, once I am queen I will have the power to stop him. I hope.’
One of the Venerable Sisters comes in and starts adding more oil to the lamps. She smiles at us and inclines her head.
‘As you wish, Odette. But if you think of any way in which I can help you …’
‘Stay here. Don’t return to Atratys. Don’t leave Aron and me alone.’
Does she understand what she’s asking of me? Perhaps not. But I cannot abandon her.
The castle bell sounds.
‘Again?’ Odette frowns. ‘Not more arrests. Or –’ she swallows, and quickens her pace – ‘perhaps it is my father …’
Together we retrace our steps to the Citadel. The high-ceilinged entrance hall is full of courtiers, huddled in knots or glancing nervously around, while up above us the bell still clangs. A few people notice me and begin whispering.
‘Look.’ Odette points to the stairs: Aron is coming to meet us. ‘Brother, what’s amiss? Is Father worse?’
‘No, his condition is unchanged.’ Aron glances at me. ‘But the members of Convocation who were convicted of treason have volunteered some additional details of this supposed plot, apparently. No arrests, not yet, but some people have been taken in for questioning.’
Odette slips her hand into mine. I ask the question, even though I am certain of the answer.
‘Lucien?’
He nods, and my heart races in a sharp spike of panic …
But panic is not going to help. I take a deep breath. ‘Where are they being questioned? And by whom?’
‘Up on the top floor, south wing. There’s a small hall, the Sun Chamber. The master secretary is conducting the interviews, assisted, apparently –’ he raises an eyebrow at his sister – ‘by Lord Redwing.’
Siegfried. If he is up in this Sun Chamber, he is not in his apartment.
‘How long, do you think, before they are allowed to leave?’
‘I’ve no idea. Some hours, I would imagine.’
‘Thank
you, Aron. If you’ll excuse me …’ I bow to my cousins and hurry as fast as I can, without attracting undue attention, back to my rooms.
By the time Letya arrives, a few minutes later, out of breath – I guess she ran, after I jerked so viciously on the bell pull – I have my plan clear in my mind.
‘Aderyn, I heard about Lord Lucien –’
‘I know, but we have something to do that can’t wait.’ She looks startled, but I press on. ‘You mentioned housemaids to me the other day. They all wear uniform, don’t they? Are they all exactly the same?’
She nods. ‘Shades of grey. Dark grey gown, light grey cap and apron.’
‘Do you think you could get hold of one of the uniforms?’
‘I should think so – I know the laundry mistress. But what would you do with one?’
‘People don’t pay any attention to servants.’ Hurt flickers in Letya’s eyes; I correct myself. ‘I’m sorry, my friend. What I meant to say is, nobles – courtiers – we’re used to not really seeing the people other nobles employ as servants. The housemaids in particular: all dressed the same, present in every part of the Citadel … No noble would give a second glance at a housemaid. I doubt many of the more senior servants would either.’
‘True enough.’
‘I need to get back into Lord Siegfried’s rooms. I managed to keep a key, and I know that right now he is upstairs questioning people – it’s the perfect time. If you can get me a uniform, even if someone does come in, it will just look as if I’m dusting.’
Letya’s expression is sceptical. ‘Aderyn, I love you, but you’ve never dusted anything in your life.’ She grins. ‘I have a better idea … I’ll be back directly.’
While I wait for Letya’s return, I consider potential allies among my fellow Protectors and the other courtiers. Patrus – were he here – would presumably side with Siegfried, out of spite if nothing else. Grayling Wren will probably feel he needs to write to his father for instructions. If he doesn’t just fly away. But Lancorphys, given Nyssa and Lucien are related, will undoubtedly align with Atratys. And Arden of Dacia might also think twice about allowing Olorys to control the crown; although I don’t know exactly what kind of pressure is being put on him by his cousin’s arrest. I decide to start with Arden. Tomorrow is the bridesday, and there is to be a tournament in the morning, but after that I will find a way to talk to him privately. Perhaps Odette is right – perhaps he will not believe me. But I am learning that, sometimes, truth matters less than convenience. Especially here.
A Throne of Swans Page 20