Chapter 27
AFTER MORE THAN AN hour on that throne, the entirety of her lower body numb, Merewyn moved to the head table for the start of the meal. Her stomach growled; the night had progressed far beyond the time she typically dined. But in spite of all the bustle of moving tables, shifting chairs and benches, and guests excitedly running to and fro, she espied no food yet. She accepted more wine from the passing wine steward, even though she knew it was not a prudent decision.
No one else had joined her yet at the table, so she had no trouble seeing Hildred approaching with Harish, the Sahasran scholar.
“Your majesty.” Hildred offered a perfunctory curtsy. “His lordship hoped he could speak with you further.”
Harish wished to “set the record straight” about his work with the Vizierate of Magy. Apparently his pride had been wounded when Faustinus had laughed at him. In fact, he insisted that Faustinus, “like all Immani sorcerers,” misunderstood the “long and noble tradition” of court sorcerers in Sahasra Deva.
From what he said, however, these “sorcerers” had no magy of their own. They only used magysk weapons created for them by hillichmagnars. Harish proudly displayed a thick silver ring that he claimed could shoot bolts of lightning. “It is precisely the same spell that Lord Faustinus would use,” he said with a smug grin.
Merewyn politely admitted that was impressive. But how Harish thought a little ring put him on a level with a man who could create objects literally out of nothing, astonished her. She patted the flower tucked behind her ear, still in the exact position Faustinus had placed it.
She wondered if Harish even understood why he was at this feast. If the Sahasrans had wanted to impress the Myrcian court, they would have sent a prince or one of the Council of Viziers. Sending this tactless young fool was a sign that they didn’t particularly care what happened here tonight. They probably just wanted a report on what Faustinus was doing.
“I’ve always been an admirer of the Leorniac people,” Harish continued. “The Leorniacs are the true Myrcians. So much more respectable than Kenedalics or even Rawdonians, which I assume I may admit before you two ladies. I mean, Rawdon is nearly Immani.”
“My son is half Rawdonian,” Merewyn answered. “So I am uncertain why you imply I should be flattered by your confession.”
And the love of her life was Rawdonian, but there was no point in bringing that up and muddying the waters.
“My apologies, your majesty. I simply have always enjoyed my time in eastern Myrcia more than anywhere else I’ve traveled in the kingdom. I meant to give no offense.”
Hildred grinned; she was behind Harish, so he couldn’t see. She had probably brought him over precisely because she was hoping he would say something to offend Merewyn. Was she this petty at court?
“Lord Harish, I am truly sorry to hear you do not like Rawdon,” said Merewyn. “I understood you were visiting as a scholar, hoping to see Myrcia’s libraries. It is a shame you will miss the fine collection at the Prince’s Palace.”
“There are many fine libraries in Myrcia.” Harish smiled ingratiatingly. “Your country is truly blessed.”
“And yet,” said Merewyn, “we are not nearly as blessed as the Immani. I remember reading once that the library of the Imperial University in Albus Magnus is the largest in the world by far. Perhaps you should go study there.”
Harish’s smile turned sour. “There is...well, there is some difference of opinion as to the relative size of national libraries. The court archivists in Roshan believe that—”
“Apologies for ending this fascinating conversation,” said Hildred, “but it looks as though the meal is about to be served.” She sounded anything but apologetic, and produced another shallow curtsy before sweeping off. Harish more than compensated for Hildred, his ostentatious bow bordering on the ridiculous.
Merewyn was glad to be rid of them both, and not merely because she intensely disliked them. She still needed a moment alone to think. Ever since she had spotted Maxen talking jovially with Robertson and Vadik, she had been distracted, and she needed time to make sense of the situation.
But then the servants began bringing in the food. She could not recall the last time she’d witnessed a boar dripping from a spit as it was carried into a feast. It was a pleasure that, until this moment, she had not realized she missed. With her sedentary life, she eschewed heavy foods to avoid the spread she saw overtaking Brandon. Tonight, though, she decided she would eat to the point of extreme discomfort. When she saw the heaped platters of roasted potatoes and carrots following the spit, she doubled her conviction. She wondered what Brandon would supply for dessert. Perhaps almond pudding or apple tarts.
“Merewyn,” Queen Nina said as she slipped in beside her. “Such a nice feast. I do not eat boar often as I like.”
Merewyn forced herself to return the smile. She didn’t know how much she could depend on Nina, how much she could trust her. She had gone back and forth on that question so often that she felt dizzy. But she must at least make an effort while the woman sat next to her. She clutched the silver bird pendant resting on her chest for luck.
“Myrcian wild boar tastes like nothing else,” she said, “and seeing it presented so is a rare treat.”
“Loshadnarod is place for you. It is not boar, but we have lamb cooked on a spit. Very good. You should try it.”
Merewyn wondered if Nina had been kicked in the head by one of Loshadnarod’s famous horses, or if she simply did not have the necessary command of the Myrcian language to make herself understood. “Loshadnarod is place for you.” “You should try it.” Who would say such things to a woman who was a prisoner and had been so for seventeen years? Was Nina stupid or cruel? Or perhaps she was both.
Merewyn glanced over her shoulder at Ethelred, and she saw Edgar behind him. Ethelred was fully engrossed in conversation with Vadik and Maxen on his other side, but Edgar was watching Merewyn and Nina from the corner of his eye.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I would love to visit Loshadnarod and...and try your lamb, but my travel habits are nonexistent. And they would not be my own, even if they did exist.”
Nina squinted back, shaking her head. Was her Myrcian really so poor that she couldn’t understand? Perhaps the word “nonexistent” had flummoxed her.
“Your son did not speak to you?” Nina asked.
“He and I speak daily when he is in Leornian, and we spoke earlier this evening, but I am afraid that I fail to see what this has to do with my inability to travel.”
“He did not tell you what I asked Ethelred?”
Merewyn’s heart beat so fiercely she struggled to get a firm grip on her wine goblet. Could this be the fruition of all her dreams? Had Nina already managed to free her? She needed a drink before she could ask, “What question did you ask Ethelred? Maxen is usually such a good boy, but in this he appears to be remiss. Would you be so good as to enlighten me?”
“I asked Ethelred to set you free.”
She wanted to leap up and kiss Nina, to run around the room screaming with joy, but she retained her composure. Asking was not granting, after all.
“That was very kind of you. I cannot think how to adequately express my gratitude. If I should be fortunate enough to regain my liberty, I will be certain to come visit you,” Merewyn answered. At that moment, she nearly meant her promise to visit the icy, empty expanse Nina ruled.
“You...do not understand what I asked for,” Nina said. “I asked for you to come to Loshadnarod. I thought that was nicer than a tower.”
“Exile?” The word nearly choked Merewyn. “You asked Ethelred to send me into exile in your country?”
“Yes. The sky over your head would be nice, yes?”
It would be a hideous impossibility. To be free, but not free to be in Myrcia, would be no freedom at all. Did Nina think so little of her own country that she could not comprehend the desire to live in one’s home? Perhaps she thought so much of it she believed anyone would be lu
cky to live on freezing plains, sleeping in a tent with dozens of other people, most of them illiterate and toothless.
But that was not the worst of it. “You implied earlier that Maxen knows of this proposal. Does he believe this is a good plan?”
“He loves it! He and Vadik get along well. He will come visit us often.”
Merewyn turned her head again and saw how right Nina was. Maxen and Vadik laughed openly like old friends. How could her boy make friends with a man everyone knew hated her? She hadn’t been fooled by Vadik’s politeness earlier. Did all of them—Vadik, Nina, Ethelred, even Maxen—want her in exile because it would be easier to kill her in Loshadnarod than in the tower?
Chapter 28
THE BOAR DIDN’T TASTE half so good as she had hoped, and nausea prevented her from eating more than a mouthful of potatoes. She tried to drink more wine, but it landed so sourly on her stomach, she gave up even that.
Unfortunately, Nina noticed that she wasn’t eating or drinking and kept asking if she was unwell, or if there was something else they could ask the servants to bring for her. Just to keep the woman quiet, Merewyn struggled through most of the serving of almond pudding, but try as she might, the final bites proved beyond her powers.
The feast, her first excursion outside the tower and into public, was a failure. A painful, miserable failure, not because Nina had joined Vadik in scheming against her—she ought to have known that would happen—but because Maxen would be a party to it. She wanted to return to her tower so she could climb to the top and jump; her guards had been given the night off, so for once, she could actually do it.
When dessert came, Nina excused herself briefly to chat with Brandon, and Ethelred stepped away with Caedmon and the Duke of Severn. While they were gone, Haley came and stood at Merewyn’s side, whispering, “My lady, is there something wrong? The servants have noticed that you’re hardly eating anything.”
Merewyn told the girl what Nina had said. She hoped Haley would point out what nonsense it all was, that Maxen would never join Vadik in trying to kill her.
Instead, Haley turned pale and even took the liberty of grasping Merewyn’s hand. “Oh, your majesty, it all makes sense now! What can you do to stop them?”
But Merewyn never managed to answer. Haley jumped and gave a squeak of surprise, then nodded and quickly took her leave. Before Merewyn could turn, she heard the voice that told her Broderick now stood at her elbow. “Did you try the honey bread?” he asked.
She tried to smile at him, or at the very least appear pleasant, but she was too nervous and frightened to make much of an effort. Here at the high table, she felt totally exposed. So many people were in the hall, and she was sure at least half of them were staring at her. How many of those people were privy to Vadik’s plot? How many of them were already quietly raising their glasses to the day when old Queen Merewyn was gone for good?
She turned her chair and sat facing Broderick, her back to the rest of the room, so she could try to pretend the other guests were not there.
“The honey bread. Yes. Of course I tried it,” she lied. She knew the bread well from her years here, so she could be convincing when she added, “It’s as sweet as any bread I’ve had since my childhood. Brandon does well in his kitchen.”
“That he does, but what about you? Does he do well by you?” He reached over and rested a hand on her knee. “I was speaking with Bishop Robertson earlier, and the way he described your conversation didn’t sound like you at all.”
Merewyn’s heart raced painfully. Robertson had told Broderick the truth! How could he do such a thing? No doubt it was part of Vadik’s scheme. What would Broderick think of her, now that he knew what she had done? Had she lost her final ally?
“It sounds as if he provoked you into losing your temper,” Broderick said, shaking his head. “Not that it’s your fault, of course. That man could make the Blessed Ovida swear like a stevedore. But I also couldn’t help notice you arguing with Maxen earlier, and I’ve never seen that before. You are under a great deal of stress tonight, and I worry that perhaps I could have done more to help you prepare for this.”
She sagged, trembling slightly as comprehension dawned. Robertson hadn’t told Broderick anything about Fransis’s revolt. The bishop had probably just made a few sneering comments about the queen acting unladylike. Earstien be praised for one small favor, at least.
The relief left her open and vulnerable and even slightly giddy. “All I’ve wanted is to get out of that tower and be amongst people, but it has been so much more difficult than I expected. I loved feasts and dancing and formal events. Now I’m so nervous, afraid even. It’s as if I grew to love my walls as I once loved people.”
Broderick, bless him, gave her a commiserating frown. “It’s a shame a woman of your vitality should have been treated so. But you should enjoy tonight!” He brightened. “I believe one should seize every opportunity when it arises, don’t you? Here, more wine?”
She shook her head as her memories turned to the last time she had attempted to seize an opportunity when she saw it. To say it had not proved a lucky strategy would be an understatement. But for Broderick’s sake, to show she appreciated his efforts, she grinned. “You are right, of course. Yet, enough about me. I am a very dull subject, even at the best of times. How is your mother?”
“Not worse today than yesterday, so I suppose I should be grateful. And I am. I shall do everything for her I can in the time that remains. When I see her next, she will ask me all about the feast, and she will scold me about my drinking.” He raised his cup and took a very tiny sip.
Merewyn could see he was forcing his good cheer. He was pretending to be happy for her sake, and she imagined he did the same around his mother. Lucky woman; how Merewyn envied her, to have a boy like this. “You’re a good man. A good son.”
“I do what I can.” He shifted toward her, but then something beyond her shoulder caught his eye. She turned back to the hall and saw Robertson talking to Haley. “In fact, I think I need to speak with the bishop one last time tonight. He might be...difficult, but it would give my mother such comfort if he would visit her.” He took Merewyn’s hand and kissed it, and she wanted to beg him to stay and keep her company, but she had to let him go.
For several long seconds she stared at the tapestry on the wall behind the table—an elegant and ancient work of art depicting King Edmund and Queen Maud, a slightly puzzling choice for the Bocburg seeing as how they were the royals who moved the capital from this castle to Formacaster. She wondered what message the tapestry was supposed to send. Perhaps a warning that nothing lasted forever.
Merewyn remembered reading that Maud had outlived her eldest son, the second king of Myrcia. Was that a blessing or a curse, to survive one’s children? She thought, “If I had died with Fransis, or even if I had died yesterday, I could have gone to the Light still hoping that Maxen would be a good man and a good king someday. I could have died thinking he still loved me.”
“Did you enjoy the meal?” Ethelred asked, sliding back into his chair next to her.
Merewyn took a deep breath and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “Did you enjoy the meal?” Ha! What a ludicrous question. Had he not been sitting next to her? Could he truly have been so oblivious as to have missed her eating virtually nothing? But Ethelred had never been notable for his attention to human behavior.
Another long, slow breath, and she rejoined the feast. “Brandon always prepares a lovely meal.”
Around a mouthful of nuts he had taken from one of the many bowls now scattered along the table, Ethelred answered, “He does indeed.”
And then...nothing. Merewyn now realized they were entirely alone at the head table. The aforementioned Brandon laughed with Edgar and the Earl of Garthdin, Brandon’s son-in-law. Maxen and Vadik conspired with Daryna Olekovna in a corner far away. Where was Nina? Ah. There she was, with Robertson, Broderick, and Haley, of all groupings. And here she sat, in awkward silence with Ethelred, only o
ne possible topic of interest to her, but she trembled at the mere thought of mentioning it. How precisely could she ask, “Did you know our son is part of a conspiracy to have me killed?”
She drank some wine, which produced more nausea than courage. And then, still shuddering from the taste, she blurted out, “Queen Nina told me of her proposal.”
“Ah. I wanted to talk to you about that after the feast. I should have known you would hear about it sooner.”
“Oh, don’t fret about my hurt feelings. I wouldn’t necessarily expect you to say anything to me until it was at your convenience. What I find troubling is that Maxen failed to tell me.”
“I asked him not to. A request I couldn’t very well make of Queen Nina.”
“Why didn’t you want him to tell me?”
“Because I still have things to decide. I thought I knew what I wanted to do before I ever got to Leornian, but seeing you again after so many years, well, you muddle things, Merewyn. You always have.”
She could not possibly think what he meant by “muddling things” and she thought it prudent not to inquire. “May I ask when you might know what you want to do with me?”
“Before I leave Leornian.”
“Which will be when?”
“I hope you are both ready for the entertainment,” Hildred said, butting in. “Caedmon assures me nothing of the kind has happened in generations. The majesty of the old Leorniac court shall be restored if only for a night.”
The undisguised superiority in Hildred’s expression made Merewyn long to sabotage the show. Who cared about magysk exhibitions? Let another dozen generations go without seeing them, just as long as Hildred was put in her place. Perhaps Merewyn could storm out of the hall in a rage, or she could tell Ethelred that she wanted to go straight to the minstrels and dancing, instead.
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