‘Give yourself a chance to get into this role, Sebastian. In a few months from now it won’t seem as onerous as it obviously does now. You’ll get used to it. Most — or at least some — of the answers you’re looking for will be somewhere in these records. Come back later with what’s left and I’ll try to help.’
Sebastian dropped the glare, picked up the stack of books and turned to leave. Then he returned the books to the table, lifted the door latch, opened it and went back for the books.
‘And please ask your brother to come in,’ Ceoric called as Sebastian left.
Ceoric stood and looked out of the window. It was bright outside and he squinted as his eyes adjusted. The groundskeeper had a small group of gardeners cropping the already perfect lawn with shears. Others were laying oil lamps at equal intervals around it.
Cory entered and sat.
‘So how has this diplomatic mission of yours been going?’ Ceoric asked.
‘Life’s treating me well, father. How are you?’
Ceoric detected the subtle, acidic tone underlying false joviality. Oh no, not you as well, he thought, taking his seat across from his youngest son. He rubbed his eyes as they adjusted back to the lower light in the office. ‘Yes, well, sorry. I get so busy I forget the pleasantries sometimes.’
‘It has been going since Grandfather’s funeral, for more than a season now…’
That long already? Ceoric thought.
‘…and it’s the first time you’ve asked. It has been very different from what I was expecting. In a good way.’
‘I understand you have become… attached to this young lady?’
‘It’s no secret. We’re not hiding away. I expect its common knowledge.’ Cory tried not to sound defensive.
‘Is it appropriate though?’ Ceoric inwardly cringed as he spoke.
‘I don’t understand? Why wouldn’t it be appropriate?’
‘Relations with Nearhon are delicate. You know this, and your actions make things complicated. There are some who are concerned about her… motives. There are movements, shifts in the Nearhon scout network. Something is changing and part of that change is, believe or not, an absence of Nearhon scouts in Tranmure.’
‘You take an interest now, just when I’ve found someone who makes me happy, and you tell me it’s not… appropriate?’
Ceoric buried his face in his hands and wondered if Cory had even taken in what he’d just said. ‘Are you sure this is what you think it is? You were both in the castle yesterday. What was she interested in?’
‘What are you suggesting? She’s a scout now?’
‘Cory, try to understand, I have to ask these questions. It’s a matter of security for the kingdom.’
Cory sighed. ‘She wanted to see me at sword practice — said it was artistic, like a dance. I’ve seen her perform on stage many times. She wanted to know more about what I do. She liked the painting of Grandfather in the Great Hall. I showed her the falls. You know, only sixty or seventy years ago, marriages would be arranged between women like her and men like me for the sake of diplomacy and security. And now that it happens naturally you’re upset about it?!’
Ceoric dropped his hands from his face. ‘We’re talking marriage now?’
‘No… Well… I don’t know.’
‘So what have you learned about Nearhon during all of this?’
Cory stood and took the few steps to the window. Some of the gardeners were hanging small lamps over doorways and windows. ‘People are afraid of King Klonag and his archmage.’
‘We know that much.’
‘The people of Nearhon are afraid of them. I don’t think Julia’s father sees eye-to-eye with his brother at all.’
Ceoric sat back in his chair. ‘We’re talking about the man who supplied thousands of men, cavalry and chariots for Nearhon’s war effort. And he launched the campaign against Emiria. His own sons are in the army now. No campaign against Valendo goes anywhere without Plain Lake Cities involvement. The whole thing could be a charade — trade agreements, everything.’
Cory turned away from the window and faced his father. ‘Then where is the Nearhon army? Nowhere, that’s where! They do not have enough numbers for an invasion or we would know about it.’
Ceoric rose and stood by his son at the window. ‘And what would your grandfather do?’
‘He would have an army anyway.’
‘Which would be provocative, make diplomacy harder and it’s expensive. If he’d had the men, a fit battle mage or three and the backing he would have taken the fight to Bytper and ended, as he would put it, Klonag fifteen years ago.’
Cory tried to imagine his grandfather having this kind of debate but couldn’t picture it.
***
Tranmure filled with the sound of church gongs in celebration of the Summer Light Festival. A crash of hammer on bronze spread through the mid-afternoon air. The call started from the main church on the eastern edge of the city and was then answered by the smaller chapels across the city. It was the high point of the year in Valendo, Emiria and the mother country of Rubera; the time of year when families gathered to give thanks in anticipation of a rich harvest in the weeks to come.
In the field by the church, a ring of flags, small splashes of yellow, rose to the tops of poles and sank between them under the weight of many hanging oil lamps. In the flag circles, tables were laid, radiating out from the centre where pigs slowly spit-roasted over fires.
‘Looks like Father has cheered you up too,’ Sebastian observed dryly as he walked with Cory into the field.
‘Mmm, it is tricky to second-guess what’s on his mind when he doesn’t speak to you for weeks, or even a whole season.’ Cory stopped and lowered his voice, whispering, ‘I never saw the whole “Julia might be a scout” thing coming.’
‘You’re joking, right?’
‘He’s worrying about changes in scout movements away from Tranmure,’ Cory murmured.
Sebastian shrugged. ‘Maybe they’ve decided we’re all such lovely people that they’ll leave us alone.’
‘When you say it aloud, it sounds so naïve.’
Sebastian suddenly bent sideways, laughing.
‘What are you two gossiping about?’ Greta asked, finishing tickling Sebastian.
‘Oooh, state secrets,’ Sebastian stated with mock sincerity.
Cory looked at Julia, who stood beside Greta. ‘We’re gossiping about your beauty and charms. Nice new dress!’ he said through a smile as he tried to snatch a kiss on the lips from Julia but got a cheek instead.
‘You didn’t see us coming,’ Julia replied, wiggling here finger into Cory’s side.
‘Come on, we’re hungry.’ Greta bounced off to the tables.
Crinkle-faced ladies with crinkled smiles relived their childhoods as they flitted around the tables. ‘We never used to have these in my day…’ they said, as if today wasn’t still one of their days, laying out a variety of sugared, dried fruits imported from the markets of Ephire. There were brown ones, green ones, yellow ones and red ones, and Sebastian went round the table assigning names to them all. There must have been something particularly funny about the red ones as Cory watched Julia laugh and Greta cling to Sebastian’s shoulder in a fit of giggles at something he said about them. He missed the joke himself, too busy brooding about kisses on Julia’s cheeks and fingers instead of lips. There’d been a lot of that lately and he was feeling she was more distant since their visit to the castle two weeks before.
He snapped out of it when he felt himself being projected forward by a rough slap on the back of the shoulder. ‘Ho, Sergeant Cory!’
‘Commander Shane,’ Cory replied, exchanging a warrior’s handshake with the man. Shane was a few years older and about Cory’s height with blond locks and blue eyes that attracted many ladies.
‘Looking forward to promotion in a couple of weeks’ time?’ Shane asked.
‘After you’re made general, you mea
n?’ said Cory.
Shane laughed. ‘I think your father will name someone older. Besides, the general’s job won’t leave me time for other pursuits… Speaking of which, you haven’t introduced me to these lovelies!’
Shane headed for Greta and Julia with the attentiveness and constancy of a bee visiting flowers, boldly attempting a kiss and receiving a cheek from both. He was the sort that could get away with this kind of flattery. Greta and Julia exchanged comments while watching him head off round the field, looking for other flowers to visit.
The sky darkened as the sun set and other lights all over Tranmure started to twinkle. The oil lamps hanging round the fields and candles on tables were lit, casting a warm glow onto smiling faces receiving servings of roasted pork and cooked fruits. Cory thought it gave everyone’s faces a beauty not normally seen. The lights twinkled in the eyes of the older ladies faces who made a fuss over ‘their’ princes.
‘I think they are rather smitten by you,’ Julia whispered, nudging him with her elbow. Cory kissed her head in reply and closed his eyes, enjoying the scent of her braided hair.
Greasy platters lay empty and the pork was all gone. The last fruits disappeared into mouths and people drained their goblets of wine. Sounds of laughter and bursts of song filled the air as the people started to leave the tables and file into the church.
‘What’s happening now?’ whispered Julia from her place on Cory’s arm as they passed through the church doorway.
‘Sebastian would tell you more, but now everyone goes to receive a blessing for the summer light. It ends the Summer Light Festival, a celebration of the longest day of the year. Here, have a candle.’ Cory took two small squat candles from a table and carefully handed one to Julia. The little yellow flames danced merrily in the air currents and threw playful shadows over her face. The only source of light in the dark church were the candles people carried. ‘You bring a light with you,’ he said.
They shuffled slowly in line up the aisle of the church towards Archpriest Ranold and Pete standing before the bronze sun. Ranold smiled at Julia as she clasped her hands, ‘Welcome,’ he whispered, before murmuring a short blessing. Ranold and Pete took the candles from Julia and Cory, turned and placed them on the table under the bronze sun that shone in the wavering light from the candles below it. They both followed the line of people out of the church’s side doors, through the churchyard and onto the road towards the obelisk in the plaza. Each of the four faces of the obelisk glowed yellow from the light of burning oil in cauldrons. The light dimmed as Cory looked up the tall obelisk, the rock sun at its peak barely visible in the dark. They took the road into city streets decorated by pools of light spilling from candles and oil lamps in windows and over doors. Arrangements of candles depicting the sun or exotic flowers lay on the ground outside many houses. Mesmerized by the lights and content in silence, Cory and Julia made their way back to the lodge.
She stood in the doorway and turned to face him. Her cheeks shone and her eyes caught a twinkle from the oil lamps hanging either side of the door frame. She smiled and Cory tried to think of the right words to explain to himself the depths of what he felt for her. He knew her face and all its expressions so well he could tell there was something not quite right. Something troubled her. Maybe it was the shape of the smile that was subtly different, or that she didn’t seem to hold eye contact with him for as long as she used to. A sadness settled over him, along with the sense that something more than precious was slipping from his grasp. He was going to try anyway. Sure enough, the kiss goodnight involved a cheek and a brief hug. Just as it had done ever since their visit to the waterfall. How he missed those lips. It was the only thought on his mind as he returned to his room and tried to sleep.
***
Cory mixed with the faithful as usual on the Day of the Sun service, saying his own prayers. It always seemed the right thing to do. He hoped a prayer or two might lift his spirits the way it did for Sebastian. Whatever was troubling Julia, he could still count on a welcoming smile when he turned up at the lodge. He knocked on the door, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Was that shouting?
Greta opened the door and left it open for him to enter. It was as if a wild animal in the room rushed from wall to wall, yelling in the Nearhon language too fast for him to fully understand. Dark blonde hair flared out as Julia spun and changed direction, rebounding off another wall. He caught the Nearhon words for ‘stupid man’ being flung from Julia’s furious mouth as she gestured in his direction. Pico stood in the corner, wide eyed and tight lipped.
The scene didn’t make any sense. What had he done to deserve this? His head went numb and his heart sank. This didn’t seem like the right place to be right now so he backed out of the door. No one seemed to notice him leave. Cory headed for the stable. A bit of time away, a run round the castle and maybe some sword exercises always helped clear his head. Maybe then things would have calmed down and he could try to figure out what was going on.
***
‘I’ll be back in a little while,’ Greta told Pico, who held Julia’s shaking shoulder as she sobbed, holding her face in her hands. Greta attempted to run across the palace courtyard, her legs hindered by the heavy, flowery dress she’d put on for church. After a distinctly unladylike hitching-up of layers, she stood in the stable. ‘Where did Prince Cory go?’ she demanded.
‘To the castle, miss,’ replied the groom.
At least he was predictable. ‘Saddle me a horse.’
The groom gave her a confused look.
‘Saddle Princess Ferand’s — she won’t mind if I borrow it. Come on, do it now.’ A few minutes later, she gracelessly mounted the horse and left the blushing groom behind. Tranmure was crowded and the crowds stared at a red-faced Greta on horseback. It wasn’t just the heat.
She dismounted outside the church, which was empty now — a blessing. Greta hurried along the bottom shelf of the bookcase at the back of the church. Locating the correct book, she pulled it out then fished for the familiar feel of a small wooden panel, which pivoted open when pushed. She stashed a note behind the panel and replaced the book upside-down, then muttered to herself. ‘How am I going to get back on that blasted horse by myself?’
Dress hem clamped in teeth, it took her four attempts.
She rode hastily up to the castle.
‘I need to speak to Prince Cory — it’s urgent.’
The guard chose not to ask questions and called for the prince.
‘Greta?’ Cory pushed his arms back into his shirt as he hurried to the castle gate.
‘It’s Julia… Her father has summoned her home.’ She held eye contact with Cory as she added, ‘She’s leaving.’
Cory went cold despite the heat. ‘Her father… The stupid man…’
‘You think?’ Sarcasm sounded odd coming from Greta.
Cory bit his tongue to stop that word the soldiers use in the tavern from coming out. ‘Get Greta something to drink and whatever else she needs,’ he instructed the guard. ‘I need to go.’
***
Cory arrived at the palace stables with no recollection of how he got there. All the intelligent things he thought of to say boiled away when he entered the lodge and Julia threw her arms round his neck and held on tight. ‘You’re leaving,’ he said simply.
‘In the morning. And you left,’ she replied, her voice husky from crying.
‘I’m sorry, I was feeling hurt… confused.’
She gave him the thing he’d been missing: a kiss on the lips. ‘You’re already forgiven.’
‘You haven’t done that in a while and it hurts. It felt like I was losing you.’
She gave him a look with her eyebrows raised, full of sympathy, and brushed sweaty damp hair off his forehead. Her own hair was wrapped in a towel.
‘Don’t go — stay here with me,’ Cory urged.
‘What, so that my uncle can claim you’ve kidnapped me? Diplomatically unwise.’
‘I�
�d marry you right now if I could.’
She kissed him again, much deeper this time.
‘What was that one for?’
‘Because I love you.’ She wrinkled her nose, released Cory and pulled the towel she was wrapped in tighter about her body. ‘And that’s because you stink of sweat and horses. I’ve just come out of the bath.’
‘I’ll go clean up and then come back.’ Cory turned to go but Julia gripped his wrist.
‘No, don’t leave,’ she pleaded. ‘There’s a bath in my room. The water’s still warm.’ Smiling, he entered her room and shut the door behind him.
Julia sat on a chair, rubbing long strands of her hair in the towel. Thinking. She was leaving with no idea when she would be able to come back. She bit her lip and the tears returned. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do about that right now. There was only one thing she could think of that was worse and she could do something about that. She decided she would do something about that. An oppressive weight that she realised had been there for some time, like an overloaded luggage trunk, suddenly lifted.
There was a knock at the door. Pico came out of her room to answer it and Greta walked in. ‘Don’t laugh.’
Julia put her fingers over her mouth to stifle a smile despite her melancholy. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
‘I think they gave me some of Cory’s spare clothes. At least looking ridiculous is an improvement over what I looked like before, on a horse, in this dress.’ Brandishing the flower-festooned material of the dress draped over her arm, Greta stood wearing a huge shirt with the sleeves rolled up into bunches at her elbows. The trousers were similarly rolled up and tied around her waist with rope. ‘Where’s our boy?’ Greta enquired.
‘In the bath, washing off sweat and horse-smell.’
‘I could do with a bath myself when I get home. Are you all right?’
Julia nodded. ‘As all right as I can be.’ She was silent for a few heartbeats then asked, ‘Greta, Pico, I need ask another favour.’
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