“Mother!” He took up her hands. “You will be around for years and years to help me. But trust me, Rosheen is amazing, too. She’s the one who’s been explaining to me all of the factions at court lately and what everyone’s doing wrong or right.”
“Oh? Give me an example.”
“According to her, you really ought to have a talk with Duke Brandon. His son-in-law, the Earl of Garthdin, is making some serious mistakes as the constable of Keaton Fastenn, and Broderick is going to kick him out if he’s not careful.”
Merewyn tucked the information away for later use. If this girl truly had a feel for court and its maneuverings, she might be a worthy ally, even without prestige or money. Maxen needed someone at his side now, laying the paving stones that would lead to the throne. But Merewyn would need to meet this Rosheen before she gave her consent to the match.
Rosheen Jones. Queen Rosheen. Earstien, what an awful Kenedalic name that was. Merewyn had thought everyone in Wislicshire had foregone those terrible appellations generations ago. Yet, it was but a small obstacle.
“Bring her here as soon as she is well. I will listen to no arguments.”
“I promise you will meet her soon.” Maxen leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
Chapter 20
PRESLEY HAD FOUND A lute somewhere, and Grigory was now strumming his way through all the great ballads of home, while Presley sat at his feet, looking up at him with open adoration. Daryna felt happy for the two of them, and she wondered if anyone else saw what was happening. She looked around the parlor—Nina with Anik, Maxen whispering with Vadik, Ethelred and Edgar and Brandon lounging easily together, much as they probably had for decades. They all sat listening to Grigory play Loshadnarodski songs on his Myrcian instrument, his sweet baritone soft and warm. Everyone here seemed relaxed at last, away from the other guests on the third floor of the Bocburg.
Daryna had been in this parlor before—it had been set aside originally for the use of the court hillichmagnars in the days of the old Kingdom of Leornian. Guests usually didn’t stay on this floor, except for Caedmon when he visited the city, and he took up residence across the hall from where they now sat in his old rooms in the Leofe Tower. Because it had once been the exclusive domain of hillichmagnars, the entire floor ached with magy and memories, and she was happy to join the others when Caedmon had invited them up.
But Caedmon had disappeared a while ago, she could not say quite when, since Grigory’s playing and the wine left her sinking comfortably into her chair by the fire. It was the first time she had not felt tense since Presley had informed her Faustinus would be here. She should have known better than to relax.
“I hate to interrupt your beautiful playing, Mr. Sobol,” Caedmon said from just inside the door. “But I would like to introduce you all to Servius Lepidus Faustinus, who has at last arrived.”
Daryna had been so tranquil and soothed she had not even sensed Faustinus coming. But there he was—casually elegant posture, warm smile, charming air.
“Caedmon, you should know me well enough after all the centuries that I never want good music interrupted for any reason, least of all for me.” He stopped in front of Grigory and held out his hand. “My sincerest apologies, from one musician to another.”
Grigory awkwardly accepted the offered hand, barely able to balance the lute. “An honor to meet you. I am Grigory Sobol.”
“If you insist on claiming the honor, I will allow you, but the pleasure is all mine. We must have a discussion about counterpoint sometime.” He turned back to the rest of the room with his most winning smile, the one that had made her tremble in his arms once upon a time. “And now that I have apologized to our musician, Caedmon, you may finish the introductions.”
Caedmon, obviously, began with Ethelred and Nina, then moved on to the princes, Brandon and Edgar, and finally Anik and Presley. Throughout, Faustinus never turned his head in her direction, even avoiding her when shaking hands with Anik five feet away. She could feel his magy now as clearly as she could see him, and she had no doubt that he felt her just as strongly. His avoidance was deliberate, and even though she did not blame him, she also wanted to blast him and shake him until he acknowledged her existence.
“And, of course,” Caedmon said, turning Faustinus so that he had no choice but to look directly at her. “Daryna.”
Faustinus’s beaming face went blank and he nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Hello, Faustinus.”
She thought she detected a slight vibration in his body at the sound of his name coming from her mouth. But whether it was repulsion, hatred, or anger, she could not say. He quickly returned his attention to the others, landing on Edgar of all people.
“So, your royal highness, Caedmon tells me you are heading up the plans for new walls in Formacaster. As someone who helped build the first round, I’m fascinated to hear precisely what you have planned.”
Daryna wobbled in her seat, unable to believe Faustinus had dismissed her in favor of Edgar Sigor without so much as a “Hello.” She could stay in the room no longer. Without a word, she slipped around everyone and out of the parlor.
She walked blindly down the hallway, no thought for where she was going. He hated her more than she had even imagined. She didn’t know if she could remain in the castle. She might even need to leave Leornian. How could she possibly face him again, knowing how profoundly and rightfully he despised her?
When she looked up, she realized that she had wandered into the Gallery. She remembered coming to this room on her first visit to the Bocburg, because it was almost a holy place to hillichmagnars. The greatest of the original hillichmagnars, Finster, had gifted the first King of Leornian a magysk book of guidance that was kept for centuries in this room until it moved to Formacaster when the Kings of Leornian became the Kings of Myrcia. But other relics besides the original bookstand were still kept in the room.
Leofe had been the most powerful of all hillichmagnars since the originals who created the world, and she had lived in this castle for three hundred years, building that which still stood, such as the impossible tower of glass and stone that bore her name. But she had also created a magysk retreat, another place in the fabric of the universe. It had been a garden made entirely of glass, or so Harald said, and he was the last living hillichmagnar to have stepped into the fantastical space. Leofe had destroyed it before fleeing Leornian never to be seen again, but a few relics had survived, and they were preserved here in the Gallery.
They seemed to float unsupported in the air, but she could sense the transparent pedestals upon which they sat. Each was surrounded by the spells of three different hillichmagnars to protect them for all time.
Daryna came to rest before one relic. Two roses, redder than anything she had ever witnessed in nature, twined around each other, ending with the fully open flowers tilting toward one another, almost in a kind of kiss. Each was three feet tall, stems of shimmering green glass and brown thorns so sharp they twinkled in the light.
“Extraordinary, aren’t they? I spend hours studying them every time I come here.”
So he had followed her. She didn’t turn around to face him. “Are you fascinated by the works of a hillichmagnar driven mad by love?”
“I doubt love is what drove her mad.”
Faustinus pressed against her back and lowered his lips to her neck. He did not kiss her, though, just rested there breathing on her skin. “Or maybe it did,” he whispered. “Maybe love did drive her mad.”
He kissed now, kissed her neck hard, and she threw her head back, letting out the breath she had been holding. Faustinus wrapped his arms around her waist, and she sagged into his embrace, wondering where she had ever found the strength to walk away from him all those years ago. She felt as if she were going mad now herself.
“I thought you hated me,” she said.
“I thought I did, too.” Faustinus’s hands roamed over her body as his lips found their way to just behind her ear. “I guess we wer
e both wrong.”
Daryna felt the magysk tug at the center of her stomach and relaxed as Faustinus transported them away. A moment later, they were in a room dark but for the two windows on the far wall. A blink after that, candles all over the room burned brightly. It was the one guest suite on the floor, save for Caedmon’s in the tower. She wondered briefly if Faustinus had actually been assigned the rooms or just intended to use them for the time being. For the sake of propriety, she whispered a spell to lock the doors.
“That’s my girl.”
She started to chuckle, but he kissed her fiercely, and they began the vital business of removing one another’s clothes. It was as though no time had passed. They were in Terminium 150 years ago, their bodies perfectly in sympathy, undressing the other more natural than undressing themselves.
He took a deep breath and stepped back from her once they both stood naked. His eyes caressed her even more firmly than his hands had. Her own gaze scoured him as aggressively. Was he more handsome, more perfectly made than he had been all those long years before, or had her eyes and mind hungered for him so desperately she saw him now like a starving man looks at even mediocre food? She didn’t care about the explanation. She fell to her knees and began her worship of the most beloved body in existence.
But that proved to be only the beginning. Eventually, he had her on her back, the rug no softer on her shoulder blades than it had been on her knees. She hardly noticed. Whether it was pure talent or a little bit of magy, he had always known how to please her, and they were both so eager that it took him no time at all.
Then with the first edge of lust filed down, they lay entwined on the floor, each slowly kissing and stroking the other’s body. She wanted to speak, to apologize for the way she had left him, ask him to tell her everything he had done and thought for a century and a half. But would that break the spell they were under? Would it remind him that he did not actually forgive her?
“I’m so glad I came here,” he whispered while trailing his lips along her neck.
“Really? And why is that?”
She was grinning when he picked his head up to look at her. His face was so earnest, so open and unlike him, she could not maintain her smile.
“I knew you would have to see me here. Your note said not to follow you, and I didn’t, but here, you couldn’t run away or force me to leave.”
Tears collected in the corners of her eyes, and she kissed him before they could begin to fall. And soon after he was ready to take her, which he did over and over that night, on the floor, in his bed, levitating in the air in front of the fireplace. Their bodies seemed as though they had been specifically designed for one another, and they did not sleep until the first hints of dawn seeped through the windows.
But as Daryna drifted off, she knew that at some point they would have to talk. Would there be time before the feast that night? If not, everyone would be in Leornian for several more weeks. They would have to talk, and she would have to confront what she had done to him, but later. For now, she needed sleep.
Chapter 21
ALL DAY LONG MEREWYN had smelled the food cooking and heard the servants and courtiers rushing back and forth across the courtyard. An hour ago, the guests had started to arrive, some on foot, others in carriages. Now the gateway was practically blocked with all the people trying to enter at once. Merewyn heard cheerful greetings and squeals of delight drifting up to her open window. Hearty male laughter boomed out occasionally, rising above the largely feminine chatter. Merewyn couldn’t bring herself to look, but she could imagine precisely what was going on down there—all the gossip and false compliments and insincere best wishes. How quickly it all came back to her.
Instead of standing at the window, Merewyn was upstairs in front of her mirror. It was positively ridiculous, actually, how much time she had spent there already. She was fully dressed, and here she was, still searching for flaws.
The bodice could not be straighter, the curl in her hair more perfect, the silver necklace more flawlessly placed. Choosing the jewelry alone had taken her two hours this morning. She had seriously considered a few of her diamond and ruby pendants. They had been gifts from Ethelred long ago, and she was certain the only reason she had been permitted to keep them was that he hadn’t been able to stand the sight of them anymore. Lovely as they were, she worried that even now he might see them as a provocation. So she had gone with the silver necklace—Loshadnarodski silver, of course—which she hoped would set the right tone for the occasion.
Merewyn tugged at her lace cuffs and raised a hand to smooth her hair, except there was nothing to do, no strands out of place. Any adjustments now could only make things worse, but she still felt a nervous compulsion to tinker and fiddle with her appearance. She and Haley had spent five hours working in a futile search for perfection, and Merewyn probably would have the girl working still if Haley hadn’t finally announced that she really needed to get herself ready. Merewyn let the girl go, though she couldn’t help thinking about how Tegan Howard would never have done such a thing. Tegan would have been awake an hour before dawn, putting herself together before Merewyn got out of bed, so that she could dedicate her entire day to her mistress’s needs.
Did people still remember Tegan? And if so, did they remember the bright, witty, accomplished lady-in-waiting, or the crazed wife of a convicted traitor, screaming wild accusations in court?
“What do they remember about me?” Merewyn thought. What would people say? Would they be pleased to see her or annoyed that she had come out of her tower? Worst of all, what if no one cared?
The door creaked open on the floor below. She smoothed her skirt for at least the twentieth time. “Haley? Is that you?”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll be right up.”
Merewyn turned to get a view of her right side. Everything seemed in place. Inspecting the other side in the mirror, she once again found everything as it should be. What was the time? When was she supposed to go down? Were guards going to escort her?
Caedmon Aldred had sent up a note after lunch to assure her that the last remnants of the barrier spell were gone. But she still hadn’t tried the stairs yet. After so many years, it would have been a pathetic anticlimax to walk down one floor and then come right back up. So she was still waiting, wondering precisely when she would leave.
She showed her back to the mirror and twisted her head around as best she could. “Haley? Are you coming?”
The patter of feet on the stair came in answer. The girl’s face was flushed, and her limp blonde hair was coming loose from its silver combs.
“Is everything alright?” Merewyn asked.
“Yes, my lady.” Haley peeked around her into the mirror and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, only to have it fall down again. “I should have been here earlier, but I was distracted. My apologies.”
“You certainly were distracted. You barely look half finished. Here. Sit down.” Merewyn pushed her into the chair before the mirror. “Take a minute to fix your hair properly and take a deep breath. Flushed cheeks do your complexion no favors.”
“Thank you, my lady. But I heard....” Trailing off, she took out one of the hair combs, fiddled with it a little, and then tried to find a new place for it. Merewyn waited patiently for her to continue her sentence.
Yet after half a minute, Haley still had not responded, and Merewyn’s patience ran out. “Yes, Haley? You were saying that you heard something?”
“I’m sorry, my lady. I’m just so flustered. I heard something.... Oh, I don’t want to say, because it will make you worry.”
“If you hadn’t wanted me to worry, you should have said nothing at all. Now you simply have to tell me what you heard.”
“I...I’m sure it’s probably not even true.” She spun around to face Merewyn. “Forget I said anything.”
“That’s going to prove rather difficult. I must insist you tell me what you heard at once.”
Haley trembled in the chair, clasping
the back until her knuckles turned even whiter. “I beg you not to ask me who I heard this from.”
“Haley, you have become extremely tedious.”
“I’m truly sorry, my lady. It’s just that I’ve heard there is a plot against you.”
Merewyn shivered. So it was true. She hadn’t been imagining things all this time. She absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair and felt several curly locks spring free from their braids and hairpins. Looking in the mirror, she saw how pale her face was. Five hours of preparation, and all for nothing. She looked as if she had aged ten years in the past minute. With wisps of hair coming loose like that, she looked like she was going mad.
“My lady?” said Haley. “My lady, let me get you something. Wine, perhaps? Or the valerian and passionflower extract?” The girl put a gentle hand on her arm and led her to a chair by the fire.
“Who is plotting against me, Haley? You must tell me everything. When are they going to strike? Tonight?”
“I’m sorry, but I know so little. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I see that I’ve upset you, my lady. Let me get you that wine.”
Merewyn grabbed the girl’s arm to stop her from leaving. “No! Tell me what you know. All of it. Who is involved in this plot? What are they going to do to me?”
“I cannot say! I just know what I heard.”
“Which is what?”
“That Daryna Olekovna was overheard talking about your majesty with Prince Vadik, and....”
Merewyn’s patience abandoned her almost instantaneously in the pause. “Did you overhear them yourself?”
“No, my lady.”
“Then who told you?” Merewyn’s grip tightened on Haley’s arm until the girl winced.
“My lady, please. I cannot tell you. I beg you not to force me to reveal that. I can only tell you what Lady Daryna supposedly said. She said that they—whoever ‘they’ are—needed ‘someone reliable’ to bring you over to the feast tonight. Someone who’s in on the plot, you see.”
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