The Queen's Tower

by J. S. Mawdsley

  “Caedmon is, indeed, here. He had something he was working on in the library that he wished to finish. He said he would join us at supper. Servius Lepidus Faustinus has not yet arrived. I could have someone show you to the library if you want to speak with Caedmon now.”

  She hesitated, frowning. “No,” she said. “If I decide to seek him out, I can find my way to the library on my own.” She opened her mouth again as though she wanted to ask another question, but instead snapped her jaw shut and drifted to the wine table.

  She was certainly a beautiful woman, but Brandon thought she seemed a little odd. Perhaps even a little rude. But one had to make allowances for hillichmagnars. Even the best of them could be strange.

  He looked around the hall, and now he spotted struggling conversations and guests without food. The time for observation had ended. He must do his hosting duties and make his Dryhten ancestors proud of the hospitality offered by the Bocburg.

  He made a circuit of the room and then went over to speak with Anik Kaur. Kaur turned out to be a fascinating man and gifted storyteller. He told Brandon an amusingly self-deprecating tale of his first bear hunt with the court, soon after his conversion and marriage. Brandon was starting to truly enjoy himself, when Ethelred came up and tapped him on the shoulder. “I need a word, if you please.”

  Kaur, used to deferring to royalty, nodded to Brandon and slipped away to join Mr. Sobol and Presley. Brandon’s smile quickly died when he saw the deep frown creasing Ethelred’s face. “What is it? Has something happened?”

  “I do not know. I was expecting you to tell me.”

  “Tell you what? Ethelred, truly, I do not know what is going on.”

  “What did Queen Nina give you?”

  “A letter for Merewyn. I was going to talk to you about it after the reception, but as long as you have brought it up—”

  “I wish to read it. Immediately.”

  “I can see why you have always monitored Merewyn’s correspondence, but surely we must trust Queen Nina and Merewyn to communicate during this visit.”

  Ethelred’s expression soured further. “I would prefer to get to know Queen Nina better before I decide what level of communication she and Merewyn will have in private.”

  None of this sounded like Ethelred, especially not after he had already declared that Merewyn would at last be released, if only for a time, from her prison. Brandon looked over Ethelred’s shoulder to Edgar, who stood in a corner ignoring the Earl of Portcress while staring at them.

  “You don’t have to listen to Edgar on this. I am, after all, the one who knows Merewyn best at this point.”

  “Which might bias your opinions. She is an extremely charming woman.” Ethelred could not make eye contact, and all Brandon could do was sigh deeply at his old friend’s suspicions. “Please, give me the letter. If and when Merewyn can receive correspondence, I will let you know. Until then, say nothing to anyone, including Merewyn and Nina.”

  Brandon had no choice but to pass over the letter. “I will always do as you say, but I will also tell you when I disagree.”

  Ethelred snatched the letter and walked off without another word.

  Chapter 14

  MEREWYN COULDN’T SAY what her dream had been about, only that she was relieved when Haley shook her awake. A nebulous feeling of anxiety surrounded her where she lay, yet she felt loath to leave her bed. The fatigue was almost as overwhelming as the nameless dread. But if she fell asleep again, would the nightmare be waiting? Fortunately, Haley made the decision for her, throwing open the bed curtains, allowing in the direct first light of the day.

  “My lady, I heard you call out in your sleep. I brought you valerian and passionflower again. My apologies for rushing you, my lady, but you simply must get up.”

  Ethelred was here, she now remembered. He was in the castle, and she had seen him—right downstairs in the same room where she took her meals and read and drew her charcoal pictures. She could hardly believe he had actually come to visit.

  Why had he done it? The question of his motives had kept her awake for hours. Why, after all these years, had he finally come to see her? Why had he promised to allow her out just as people were arriving in the city who wanted her dead? At best, it was suspicious.

  Merewyn had seen the Loshadnarodski delegation ride in at the gate, and she had heard feasting and reveling from across the courtyard. She had heard some of their riders singing a long, droning hymn—probably one of the ones about Daryna Olekovna and the holy mountain where they had found her years ago. Daryna was here now, and Queen Nina, too. In a few days, Merewyn would have to see them all in the great hall, and she would be completely alone and vulnerable. No doubt that was precisely how Ethelred wanted her.

  For seventeen years he had allowed her to live. He could not change his mind now without looking like a heartless fool to his people. No doubt he hoped to catch her plotting with one of these foreign delegations, which would finally give him the excuse he needed to put her to death.

  Yesterday, she now realized, had been a disaster. She had spent seventeen years falsely believing that the betrayal that had hurt him the most was the loss of her affections. She had underestimated him—an easy thing to do, where Ethelred was concerned, but still a mistake.

  He must be colluding with someone. But with whom? She was an embarrassment to the Loshadnarodskis. She was like a weight around their necks as they tried to rise from deep water in a mine. As for the Immani, she threatened their close relationship with Myrcia. They would want her gone, too. Daryna Olekovna or Faustinus might already have spoken to Ethelred. They might have him under a spell at this very moment, in fact!

  She had to find a way to appeal to Ethelred, to show him her value as a counselor and confidante. She had to make him think that he needed her as much as Maxen did. Coming up with a plan called for ratiocination, which required walking, which necessitated being dressed. Unfortunately dressing Merewyn was a task her lady-in-waiting seemed unequal to performing this morning.

  Haley tripped and nearly upset a chair, drawing Merewyn’s attention away from her own reflections. The girl tried to take Merewyn’s dressing gown from its hook, but dropped it on the floor. Odd—she wasn’t usually that clumsy. Her hair was coming loose, too. Haley, the finest hairdresser Merewyn had ever had in service, never had messy hair. Granted, the poor girl didn’t have much to work with, but she always made the most of her limp, dark blond locks. Today, however, she looked dreadful. Perhaps she ought to whip up a batch of valerian and passionflower for herself.

  “Haley, what’s troubling you this morning?”

  “Nothing, my lady,” she answered while going through the shifts and leggings in the wardrobe nearest the top of the stairs. Without settling on anything, she opened the next wardrobe and pawed through the gowns.

  “You are the least capable liar I have ever seen. Something is clearly upsetting you, and I shudder to think what you may attempt to dress me in while you are in such a state.” She patted the bed, and in her sweetest tone, she said, “Come sit, my dear, and tell me what has you so flustered.”

  Merewyn had no desire to play mother to her servants; she had no talent for it. Even with her own son, she sometimes found it difficult to muster the proper maternal feelings. But if she didn’t give Haley a little warmth and sympathy, the girl would be useless all day, and Merewyn would never get dressed.

  Haley came over and perched awkwardly at the edge of the mattress. “My lady,” she began, but halted.

  The longer they remained in this uncomfortable silence, the more Merewyn worried. Had the girl suffered some personal embarrassment or disappointment? Perhaps with Broderick? Or did the girl know of some plot against her queen? Had she actually been lured into the plot? Had Ethelred ordered her to find evidence of Merewyn’s supposed treachery?

  “Haley, I must insist you tell me immediately what is the matter.” There was a slight tremor in Merewyn’s voice she despised. “You are far too young and innocent to
imagine what explanations I am conjuring in my head for your hesitation, but I assure you, they are dreadful, and I would like to know which I may dismiss.”

  “My apologies, my lady.” Haley twisted her fingers in her lap, avoiding Merewyn’s gaze, but finally breathed deeply, and said, “I heard his grace say something to his majesty, and I think I was intended to overhear it, which means his grace must wish for me to tell you, but I confess, I do not want to repeat it.”

  “Haley, you must.”

  “Are you certain you wish to hear it?”

  “Yes, Haley.” Merewyn used the same tone she had once employed whenever Maxen refused to let the nurse bathe him. “Now, please. What did his grace say?”

  “He’s, well, he’s worried about Prince Vadik.”

  “I see. By any chance, did his grace indicate what bothered him about Vadik? Is the boy drinking too much of Brandon’s best wine? Is he chasing the housemaids?”

  “The duke is worried because the prince seems to dislike you.”

  “I see.” She twisted her hair at the nape of her neck nonchalantly. “Is he worried the prince will cause a scene when we meet or say something to embarrass me?”

  “His grace sounded very concerned. Very, very concerned. I think he was worried you might suffer more than hurt feelings, my lady.”

  Merewyn tried to laugh, but all that came out was a breathless wheeze. “So, you have inferred from this overheard conversation that, what? Prince Vadik wishes to see me dead?”

  “Yes, I have, in fact, my lady.”

  Refusing to show the turmoil this response caused her, Merewyn patted Haley’s shoulder and gave a wave of the hand to shoo the girl off the bed. Once Haley had removed herself, Merewyn swung her feet to the floor. Deep breaths. Chin up. Back straight.

  “Even if this is true, dear, Prince Vadik would hardly be the first person to wish me harm. He will not even be the only person at this castle who wants me dead. Yet, here I am. Still alive, and with your help, as formidable as ever. The indigo gown, if you please. I may receive visitors today, and I must look stunning.”

  The girl got halfway to the wardrobe, then came rushing back. “But, my lady, I would be terrified if I were you. They say Prince Vadik is very close to Daryna Olekovna. The sorceress is like a second mother to him, they say. Think of what she might do to you with her magy! Aren’t you frightened?”

  Of course she was, but on her list of intentions, admitting as much to her lady-in-waiting ranked at the bottom. “Haley, no woman ever helped her own cause by cowering in fear. Looking exquisite, however, will always prove a benefit to a woman. The indigo, if you please.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  But Haley still showed no sign of believing her, and the girl refused to perform her duties with requisite enthusiasm. She wandered listlessly about the room, sighing and casting mournful glances at her mistress, as if she expected Merewyn to drop dead any moment.

  Fighting every impulse in her body, Merewyn smiled. “The indigo. Then breakfast. And perhaps a bit more valerian and passionflower for both of us this afternoon.”

  Haley nodded, and while she evinced little verve in her actions, she finally began performing her duties. Not a terrible bit of mothering, if Merewyn did say so herself.

  Chapter 15

  DARYNA PULLED THE DOOR open quickly, sticking her head out and looking up and down the hall. The only person there was a little housemaid carrying fresh linens. The girl jumped from surprise, then curtsied before running away. Daryna sent a detection spell after her—it would amuse Faustinus to disguise himself as a girl. But there was no magy there. One last wary look around, and Daryna stepped back into the queen’s suite.

  Vadik was climbing up on the window seat while Grigory and Mr. Kemp looked on. The prince pulled the stained-glass window open so that he could examine the design from the other side, then shut it so he could admire it in the morning sunlight again. It showed a tall, grave woman with pale blonde hair, surrounded by flowers of every possible color. Daryna guessed the woman was supposed to be Leofe the Blessed, who had once lived in this very castle.

  There were a great many stories and songs about Leofe. She had helped expand the kingdom and had written the Halig Leoth, the holy book of the Myrcian church. She had married into the royal family, too, and then, at the height of her powers, she had faded from history. No one knew quite what had happened, but some people said she had gone mad. She was the main reason Diernemynster had a rule against romance and marriage. Daryna had spent many years pondering the woman’s fate.

  At the moment, Vadik wasn’t much interested in history, though. He wanted to know how the glass was made, and kept pestering Mr. Kemp and Grigory for details of the process.

  “The blue glass comes from cobalt,” said Mr. Kemp.

  “And the red comes from gold,” added Grigory.

  Vadik frowned. “How odd. I would think gold would turn the glass yellow. What makes the yellow glass?”

  “Silver,” said Mr. Kemp and Grigory in unison. They both chuckled.

  “If you enjoy stained glass, your royal highness,” said Mr. Kemp, “then you should visit the Hengist Tower by the main gate. His grace recently installed a new window depicting the submission of the Kenedalics of the Wislicbeorgs to King Hengist.”

  “Which happened right here at the Bocburg,” said Grigory, with a nod.

  “Precisely, so,” said Mr. Kemp, smiling.

  Suddenly Daryna felt a pulse in her jaw. Her heart raced, even though she almost immediately recognized the magy as Caedmon’s. He was downstairs somewhere, starting a fire in a hearth. The stones of this castle held so much ancient magy, though, that it was hard to tell exactly where he was. Daryna sent out a detection spell—her fourth one since breakfast. Was there another hillichmagnar nearby? Anyone at all?

  No. Just Caedmon. Daryna took a long, deep breath.

  From the cherry writing desk beside the other large window, there came a heavy sigh and the sound of Queen Nina wiping her slate clean again. She was trying to compose a new letter to Queen Merewyn. Anik had wisely suggested she start by composing it in chalk, so that she wouldn’t waste Duke Brandon’s paper and parchment in repeated drafts. But Nina belabored every single word, and as far as Daryna could tell, the letter hadn’t advanced beyond the opening greetings yet.

  “The Duke of Leornian must have already delivered your first letter, your majesty,” said Anik gently.

  “No, I don’t think he has,” sighed Nina. “I would have a reply from Merewyn if he had. I will send a new letter every day until I know for sure that she is receiving them.”

  “I would be happy to compose rough drafts of these letters for you,” said Anik. “There is no need to take the trouble yourself.”

  “Thank you,” grumbled the queen, “but I want it to sound like I wrote it.” She gestured out the window and across the castle courtyard. “Merewyn is over there, in that tower. Isn’t it odd to think that she’s so close, and we still haven’t been able to see her? I want her to know I’m thinking of her. A letter has to have a personal touch, don’t you think, Daryushka?”

  “Perhaps,” said Daryna, “you could step away from the letter for a while and try again when we all return from the university.”

  “Oh, you go on ahead,” Nina said. “I want to keep writing, and you all know more about the mines than I do, anyway. Besides,” she added, with a sour look in her son’s direction, “I’m sure I’ll be able to write better if I can have peace and quiet for a few minutes.”

  Anik raised an eyebrow. “Your majesty, the scholars at the university will be much more impressed by a royal visit than by Grigory and my own, humble self.”

  “Then Vadik can go with you,” said the queen. “Don’t you want to see the university, Vadik, dear?”

  “Yes,” he said, “but I’m supposed to go riding and shooting with Prince Maxen today. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Nina. “It’s kind of him to invite
you. Then I shall stay here by myself and finish my letter.”

  Daryna and Anik shared a long, meaningful look. Moving almost as one, they stepped away from the desk and went to the far corner of the room, half-hidden from the others by a potted fern and an enormous Shangian vase.

  “One of us has to stay with her,” said Anik. “At least while she writes this letter.”

  “I was about to say the same thing,” said Daryna.

  “Not that I mistrust her majesty’s motives, of course.”

  “Of course. But she is so very eager to help Queen Merewyn.”

  “And she is apt to allow her enthusiasm to run away with her.” Anik gave a little shrug. “I suppose I should stay and make sure she doesn’t write something to Merewyn that embarrasses King Ethelred.”

  Nina was a lovely woman—kindhearted, brave, and devout. Daryna had literally seen her give the coat off her back to a poor traveler in winter. But diplomacy couldn’t be conducted through spontaneous acts of wild generosity. Left to her own devices, Nina would probably make some sort of ultimatum, demanding Merewyn’s freedom and threatening to cut off trade if Ethelred refused. Clearly, someone had to stay and make sure she didn’t write anything like that in her letter. And that person had to be someone Nina would listen to—someone who could tell her “no.”

  “I could stay,” Daryna offered.

  Anik chuckled softly. “I think you very much want an excuse to get out of this castle for a while, my lady.”

  “What would make you say that?”

  “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, you have been as skittish this morning as a field mouse that has seen a hawk overhead.”

  That was quite an arresting metaphor, and far more apt than Anik would ever know. She felt as if Faustinus was circling high above, watching her and waiting for his chance to pounce. He was coming to this castle; he might already be here in the city, in fact. Every moment that passed brought the two of them closer and closer to their inevitable reunion. She had no idea what she would do when she saw him, and it frightened her deeply that she did not know.