Giles’s assertion that her options were to leave Jonan or see him executed was terrifying. She had to find a way out, and quickly. And Giles’s idea wasn’t even an option. Just that morning she had rebuked Jonan for even entertaining the thought that she would consider leaving him.
Besides, even if Giles could sell his best case scenario to the embittered populace, she knew his plan would never work. There was no way Jonan would leave Balenol without her, no matter how invalid the king might declare their marriage to be, and no matter how much his life was threatened. Even if they shipped him home in chains, he would just come back for her, probably at the head of Cal’s army.
She restrained a groan. What a mess they were in. Jonan had been right—they should never have left Kyona.
“Well, there’s nothing more we can do right now,” Giles was saying. “You must be tired. A room has been prepared for you. I’ll have someone show you—”
“What?” protested Scarlett. “I don’t want to rest. I want to see Jonan, and talk to him. And we need to get him out of the dungeons immediately. I’ll go down and—”
“Not possible,” said Giles uncompromisingly.
“Giles—”
“I mean it, Scarlett,” Giles said. “Jonan is in the dungeons to placate those who wanted to kill him the moment he arrived. We need it to seem that we are taking firm action, at least until we figure out how to win people over to a less bloodthirsty approach. If you wander in and out of there at will, it’s not going to seem like his imprisonment is real. You know as well as I do that there are always watching eyes in the castle.”
“So you expect me to go and relax while my husband rots in a cell?”
“Stop being melodramatic, Scarlett,” said Giles in a long-suffering voice. “He’ll be fine for one day. Tomorrow we’ll—”
“Tomorrow?!” Scarlett cried, aghast. “It’s not even noon yet. You want him to be in there all day and all night?”
Giles shrugged. “As I’ve explained multiple times, it’s not me who wants him in there.”
Scarlett opened her mouth to protest further, but stopped short at a sudden thought. As little as she wanted Jonan to be stuck in a prison cell for twenty-four hours, by tomorrow it would be too late to have their marriage annulled, even under Giles’s obscure law. “Well, at least tell me you’re going to send food this time.”
She saw Giles’s features ripple slightly at the reminder that this was not the first time Jonan had been thrown into these particular dungeons, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Of course he will be fed,” he said with dignity. “We are not barbarians.”
Chapter Six
Scarlett followed the servant summoned by Giles to her assigned room, but she didn’t stay there for long. She was humming with nervous energy and had no desire to lie down. She had been less than impressed to discover she was expected to attend a banquet that evening.
Initially planning to defy Giles in the matter, she thought better of it when she discovered the king himself had invited her. She knew from her years living in the castle that to refuse an invitation from the sovereign would be a serious offense. It galled her to attend a feast while Jonan was locked away, but she didn’t think it would help him if she put King Siloam off side.
In the hours before the meal, she wandered the halls of what had been her home for most of her life. The hardness she had cultivated in her role as rebel leader wasn’t natural to her—in reality, she was a sentimental person. She berated herself for that sentiment now. She had imagined taking Jonan to the places of her childhood, showing him more of her world. Look where that desire had landed them.
Of course she thought about ignoring Giles’s warning and going to the dungeons in search of Jonan, but she was not given the opportunity. From the moment she left her appointed room, she was followed by two royal guards, a fact that irritated her more than it surprised her. She had no doubt they would prevent her from entering the dungeons. It seemed she really would have to wait until the next day to speak with her husband.
Her aunt met her at her room to escort her down to the meal, a sign of solidarity that Scarlett appreciated, despite the uncertain expression on the older woman’s face when she saw Scarlett’s distinctly Kyonan dress.
“You didn’t want to change, Scarlett?” she asked tentatively.
“No,” said Scarlett stubbornly. “I didn’t. I’m here as an official emissary of King Calinnae, and in that capacity I will attend the meal.”
Her aunt made no further comment, but she wasn’t the only one who noticed Scarlett’s silent statement. Giles gave her a pointed look when she entered the banquet hall, and she saw a few raised eyebrows from some of the courtiers. Of course, the murmuring sweeping the room at her entrance could just as easily have been about her as about her dress.
Not that she cared. She was genuinely unconcerned about the opinion of these people. She’d never had much respect for most of them. It was uncomfortable, of course, to be so conspicuous. She felt a brief wish that Jonan could be by her side, but the thought was quickly banished. He would be even more conspicuous than she was, and much more likely to create animosity with his behavior.
King Siloam was seated in an ornate chair at the head of the long banquet table. As was customary, Scarlett and Aunt Mariska joined the stream of guests waiting in line to greet their royal host.
“Ah, Lady…Lady Wrendal,” said the king vaguely as Scarlett rose from her curtsy. Scarlett refrained from rolling her eyes at the way he searched for her name, as if she had not grown up in his very castle.
“Your Majesty,” she said politely. “Actually, I discarded that title upon my marriage.”
“Your marriage? Ah yes, of course,” said King Siloam, betraying a slight interest. “I remember now. Giles was speaking to me about you just this afternoon. It seems you have gotten yourself into some trouble, and need my assistance to extricate yourself from the entanglement.”
He gave her what he evidently felt was a stern look, but his features were too habitually relaxed for it to be convincing. “You should take more care, my dear. You should not have allowed yourself to be tricked into taking part in some outlandish foreign ceremony. It seems that my nephew has been quite clever in finding a way out of your difficulties. I am sure you must be most grateful to him.”
Scarlett’s indignation grew throughout this speech. She kept her face blank only with great difficulty.
“There is some misunderstanding, Your Majesty,” she began through gritted teeth. “It is not at my request that—”
“Yes, yes, Giles explained all the details,” said King Siloam, waving a dismissive hand. “I am willing to help you, for your poor father’s sake if nothing else. But later. Giles will arrange the practicalities, I’m sure.”
Scarlett opened her mouth to protest further, but her aunt pulled her away. Already they had occupied the king’s attention for an unusually long time, and a line of impatient courtiers had formed behind them.
Scarlett felt a flush of dual anger and embarrassment pass over her as she saw the interest of those behind them in the exchange. No doubt they would believe she regretted her marriage and her alliance with Kyona and had begged Giles to help her get out of it. Well, it served her right for thinking she didn’t care what these people thought.
Of more pressing concern was the fact that Giles had acted so quickly. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pretended to go along with him. She could only be thankful that the king was not exactly one to show initiative. She felt cold all over as she imagined how easily a more engaged sovereign could have expeditiously dealt with the matter that very afternoon.
As she turned away from the king, her eyes fell on a small knot of people on the other side of the banquet hall. She recognized the general of the king’s army, and a couple of lords who often hung around him. Her father used to be one of those lords, she realized with a strange pang. She couldn’t quite find it in herself to regret his death, but the construction
that, according to Giles, was being placed on the event made her feel dirty whenever she thought about it.
She was still watching the general when he shifted to the side, allowing her a glimpse of the man with whom he was talking. She froze at the sight of the young man’s undeniably handsome, and familiar, features. It seemed that Scanlon had taken his father’s place in that faction of the court. Not that he looked anything like their father. On the contrary, he was almost a male version of Scarlett, except for his eyes. They were darker than hers, and their calculating gleam suggested a physical resemblance to the former Lord Wrendal that wasn’t really there.
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed as she noted the confident manner in which her brother was speaking with these much older, much more senior noblemen. She started across the room before she fully knew what she was doing. In the back of her mind she knew that a public confrontation wasn’t wise. But it had been a very trying day, and here, it seemed, was the source of all her problems.
“Lady Wrendal! You are back among us! And, I need hardly add, as radiant as ever.”
Scarlett turned with a sigh. It seemed she would be rescued from her rash intentions after all. The man who was addressing her had been one of her most determined suitors before her sudden departure from Balenol.
“It’s not Lady Wrendal anymore, My Lord,” she said as patiently as she could manage. “I am married now.”
The man instantly looked somber, but although he lowered his voice, he spoke just as eagerly. “Indeed, My Lady, I am aware of what has occurred. I was shocked—most shocked—to hear of how you were imposed upon. I can only be glad that the scoundrel has been thrown into the dungeons. I know that some have made unjust accusations, but I want you to know that I have never wavered in my devotion. I am confident that no blame attaches to you and, indeed, I am as eager as ever to do whatever might please you. I only wish I could have had the honor of championing you amidst all those Kyonan barbarians. But now, at least, we have you safely back among us.”
Scarlett heard all of this with an impassive face. When he had finished, she closed her eyes, willing herself to keep her temper.
“I am sorry to bring it up,” the nobleman blundered on hastily, misinterpreting her reaction. “Of course the topic would distress you. Let us think of more pleasant things. May I escort you for the duration of the banquet?”
Scarlett allowed herself one brief moment of fantasizing about how easy it would be to silence this man’s impertinent tongue. She never went anywhere unarmed, after all, and she could feel the steel of her dagger against her leg, where it was concealed. It would take only seconds to whip it out, and only seconds more to—but she exercised her considerable self-control to cut off those thoughts. Hadn’t she just been telling Giles that she took no pleasure in any of the violence?
“I am honored, but I must decline your escort,” she said instead, her tone polite but not friendly. “As I said, I am a married woman, and I don’t think my husband would appreciate the offer. His current situation is the result of a mistake and is, I assure you, temporary.”
Infuriatingly, instead of accepting the rebuff, the man just lowered his voice even further. “Your discretion is to be applauded, My Lady. But truly, you have no need to fear him now. He is incarcerated—I overheard a group of soldiers discussing it as they came out of the dungeons just a couple of hours ago—and you are safely among your own people now.”
Scarlett’s patience was beginning to wear thin. “Stop calling me My Lady. And I am not afraid of my—wait.” She paused as she caught up with the rest of what the nobleman had said. “Why was a group of soldiers coming from the dungeons only a couple of hours ago? They took Jonan there early this morning.”
“Perhaps they were changing shifts,” said the nobleman dismissively, but Scarlett frowned.
“Not if they were soldiers. The dungeons are the province of the royal guard.”
“Indeed,” said her admirer lightly. “Thankfully not the province of lovely ladies such as yourself. Let us speak of other matters.” He looked around at the sudden bustle of movement. “Ah, I see we are being summoned for the meal to begin.”
Scarlett saw that he was right, and she followed him mechanically toward the king’s enormously long, heavily laden banquet table. She was lost in her thoughts, feeling a nebulous alarm about her companion’s revelations, and she was seated before she realized that she had allowed the nobleman to escort her after all. She restrained a groan. She had intended to find her aunt when it was time to be seated, in the hope that she could be placed next to one of her three male cousins.
Once everyone was seated, the guests all fell silent, looking respectfully toward the king at the head of the table. He acknowledged their attention with a regal nod, then gestured toward his brother in a mute invitation for him to conduct the formal welcome.
Prince Rupert stood, and Scarlett noted that her uncle looked visibly older than he had a year ago. Evidently the stress of the country’s condition was taking its toll. She felt a twinge of guilt and firmly suppressed it. A familiar process.
Uncle Rupert hadn’t sought her out to greet her since her arrival that morning, a fact that she had found noteworthy but not surprising. She respected her uncle much more than King Siloam, and she was glad that he was the king’s heir, and Giles his heir. But there was no love between them exactly. Although he had never given her reason to think he begrudged giving her houseroom after her mother died, he had not accepted her as a daughter the way his wife had.
“I am honored,” he began in his clear, confident voice, “to welcome you on my brother the king’s behalf. It is the crown’s delight to have you all present at the king’s banquet table. As you are all no doubt aware, the purpose of this banquet is in part to mark the return to Balenol of my niece, Lady Scarlett Wrendal—” his eyes flicked to Scarlett and took in the challenge in her eyes, “—as she has been known to us.”
The amendment didn’t entirely satisfy Scarlett, but it was something. As soon as her uncle had looked away, she had schooled her face back to an expressionless mask, as was habitual. She was sure no one would guess her surprise, but the truth was she had not expected a formal mention in the welcome speech.
As Uncle Rupert continued talking, many pairs of eyes were fixed on her. Some faces showed only the admiration she had become used to since reaching womanhood, but more of the guests were looking at her with steely, even angry expressions.
“I know that given her recent sojourn in Kyona, Lady Wrendal’s presence here is a reminder to us all that we have not yet achieved full resolution of the Kyonan issue that has affected us this last year. However, I trust that you will join me in regarding this long-awaited return as a sign that the crown is committed to finding a solution that is satisfactory to all. I for one will be most interested to hear a full account of the trade treaty being considered between our king,” he nodded toward his brother, “and the Kyonan crown.”
He raised his glass and held it toward Scarlett in a gesture that was almost, but not quite, a toast in her honor.
Scarlett restrained a sigh, and not just because the supposed treaty was mainly a fabrication on Giles’s part to justify her presence in Nohl. Cal wasn’t necessarily closed to the idea in future, but opening diplomatic relations with the kingdom that had exploited their people for generations wasn’t a high priority for the young king.
Uncle Rupert most likely knew all this—he certainly hadn’t promised a commitment on either side. He was very good at being diplomatic. At almost saying a great many things without actually committing to anything.
“May we successfully balance justice for the past and progress toward the future,” he was continuing. “To Balenol.”
“To Balenol,” was repeated around the table as everyone joined the toast and drank deeply. Many pairs of eyes were still on Scarlett, some simply curious, others openly hostile. Feeling cornered, and not wanting to make a statement at that moment, she also drank to the toast.
<
br /> A burning passed through her as Uncle Rupert sat down. His speech had been exactly what she might have expected. Acknowledging the controversy of her presence without giving anything to anyone. No mention of Jonan—it was as if her husband didn’t exist, as if she had merely gone for a holiday to Kyona and was now back to stay. She wanted to hurl her goblet against the wall, but she was fully aware of how many people were still watching her.
So instead she sat silently, her expression serene. She felt a sudden, potent longing for her new home in the Kyonan forest community. She had almost forgotten how it felt to be constantly watched, unalterably conspicuous. She was out of practice, and it made the unrelenting vigilance all the more exhausting. She had thought she was done with all this forever. If only she could be with Jonan instead of surrounded by these artificial smiles, all hiding either shallow folly or selfish scheming. She would genuinely rather be spending the evening in the dungeons with her husband.
But that option had not been given to her. So instead she had to endure the prattle of her self-appointed escort throughout the meal. His avowals of constancy, and his apparent determination to stand by her despite the ire of those who wanted her executed, would be touching if she wasn’t fully aware that his devotion was entirely driven by her beauty.
She remembered again Jonan declaring when they met that he was not so easily impressed as to admire her for her beauty, and she suddenly yearned for her husband so intensely that it felt like physical hunger. The unspoken fondness in one of his smiles was worth more than a hundred of this nobleman’s superficial compliments.
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