“No, thank you.” I don’t want to bathe; I want to keep the smell of him on my skin.
“Shall I leave you to dress?”
I’m tempted to ask him to stay and help me, but in the end I nod. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll be outside when you want me.” He turns me around so he can kiss me, and I’m more than willing to let him. When I open my eyes the room is noticeably dimmer.
“Go,” I say. “I’ll be ready soon.”
He bows to me at the door, his eyes blazing into mine, and I try to ignore the ache I feel when he closes the door softly behind him.
* * *
Tonight my red dress suits me. My cheeks are still flushed and the dress complements them; instead of being swamped by the color I command it. I’m glowing with excitement, my eyes bright and my skin clear. It seems to me that what we’ve done is written all over me but I couldn’t care less. Let the court believe I’m happy to be marrying Merek. Let them think that is the reason I cannot stop myself from smiling, why I’m lit up from inside. After tonight we’ll be away from here.
When Lief enters to escort me to the Great Hall, his jaw drops comically as he looks at me, and I cannot help but laugh in delight. I twirl delicately for him, watching as the dress flares around me. When I step into his arms and kiss him, his hands rise to cradle my face. He holds me so carefully, so gently, that it scares me and I press myself against him, wanting the reassurance of his body. Too soon he releases me, his eyes dark again, a promise held within them that makes my stomach tighten.
“Let’s stay here a little longer,” I say.
“Why?” He grins and I bat at him with my hand.
“Because as soon as we leave this room, you have to be my guard and I have to be Daunen Embodied. I want to be Twylla and Lief for a few more moments.”
“After tonight, we’ll be Twylla and Lief no matter where we are.”
“I know.” I beam at him. “So let me have a little more practice?”
He tilts his head to the side, chewing his lip briefly. “Do they dance, at these feasts of yours?”
“Sometimes.”
“Better sing us a song then, or else how will we dance?”
The world bursts into color as he takes me in his arms, my soul ringing with joy. I start to sing softly, “Fair and Far,” and he twirls me around the room. One hand at my waist, the other at my shoulder, and I rest my hands on his arms. For the duration of the song the world is perfect, as it should be, and I could not be happier. I laugh midway through as my skirts fly behind me, and he smiles, picking up where I left off, in his funny off-key voice. We finish the song together, and when it is over he leans his forehead against mine and we breathe each other in and out as our hearts calm themselves.
* * *
The feeling of joy remains as we walk to the Great Hall, following the lords and ladies and other courtiers as we enter the heart of the castle. Everyone is in their finery, the jewels on the rich silk gowns reflecting in the candlelight, the men walking stiffly in breeches that are rarely worn. Everyone is chattering, buzzing with excitement, hands fluttering in the air like moths as they talk, the corridors filled with the spicy taste of anticipation. Everything seems lovelier to me, even the sharp face of Lady Shasta seems friendlier now. After tonight, I’ll never have to look at her again.
As we approach the door, they all fall back as though I’ve already been crowned. Courtier after courtier murmurs my name, bowing to me as I walk past.
Merek is waiting at the door, a gold circlet woven through his dark curls, his ceremonial sash in purple and bronze, proud across a velvet doublet. He offers his arm to me triumphantly, and the joy seeps away. Merek and I walk to the high table, past the tables of courtiers who rise and bow. He pulls out a chair at the king’s right, and I allow the prince a small smile.
I turn and bow to the king and queen before I sit. All of the royal family are arrayed in their regalia, king and queen with their crowns atop their heads and furs at their throats, the king’s staff leaning against his chair. To my surprise it’s the queen who looks happy; the king looks pale, still recovering from his fever. I had expected it would be the other way around, but it’s the queen who beams at me, proud as any mother, as I take my seat beside the king. Merek rests a hand briefly on my shoulder before he takes his seat next to the queen, who leans across and kisses his cheek. He stiffens before smiling tightly, and the queen turns to me again and smiles.
I take my seat, scanning the room subtly for Lief. The threads that I feel between us draw me to him, and I see him standing by the corridor that leads to the royal solar. He meets my gaze for a second before he looks away, casting his eye calmly over the room, as I revel in the warmth from his glance. I allow the server to pour me some wine, and take a sip, nodding at the courtiers who smile at me. They all know why we’re here, that much is clear. Their faces are filled with happiness; everyone looks expectant and ready to raise their glasses to us—so different to the last time we all assembled here. Out of the corner of my eye I see the king reach to touch the queen’s hand, and she allows it, turning to smile at him. She truly is weaker, then, or at least reconciled to what’s happened.
We eat and drink, the room merry as lute players and harpists walk the aisles between the tables, playing the songs of the realm, songs I would normally sing. The king and queen talk softly as we feast, too softly for me to hear, but it touches me that they are being so warm. Perhaps things in Lormere are changing for the better, perhaps they don’t need me at all. When the queen offers the king some capon from her own plate, I smile, imagining myself doing the same for Lief someday soon. It’s only when I see Merek watching me, smiling at me, that I turn back to my own plate and eat.
When I risk a glance at Lief, his gaze is fixed on Merek; he stares at him with narrowed, flinty eyes, apparently not caring that he might be seen.
At some signal, the musicians stop playing and everyone turns to the high table. With a glance at each other, the king and queen rise and the room falls silent. I see Lief gazing at me and I gaze back, my eyes blazing, trying to tell him how much I long to be away from here, and with him.
“We thank you, for joining us tonight,” the king begins. “As you all know, Lormere has been built on the proudest of traditions, traditions that have kept us strong and true throughout our glorious history. We have fought off many threats, both distant and recent”—at this I glance at Lief again, suppressing a smile, knowing we are both thinking of Tregellan—“and we have endured.”
“And we will continue to endure, and not only endure, but to thrive.” The queen picks up seamlessly from where her husband left off. “Today, we look to the future.” She smiles and the court smiles with her.
“As you know, the Gods were good enough to give me both a son and a daughter, but they saw fit to take our beloved Alianor away. We despaired at first, not understanding what we had done to fail them. But the Gods have plans that we mortals can rarely understand, and when they take with one hand, they give back with the other. And they gave us Twylla, our Daunen Embodied, as close to our hearts as any daughter could be. For years she has lived here with us, longing, with us all, for the day when she would marry Merek and become our daughter in truth.”
At this Merek rises and makes his way to me, and I stand, allowing him to place his hand atop mine as we did so long ago at our betrothal.
“So it is our greatest pleasure to tell you that time will come before the year is out.” The queen smiles at us. “On the final day of the harvest this year, my son Merek will make Twylla his bride, and a new Golden Age shall begin.”
The room erupts in cheers and jubilant shouts; goblets are raised and drinks consumed with vigor. Merek leads me in front of the table, nodding at the court and smiling down at me. Behind us, the king and queen stand proud and beaming, and I look at Lief.
But he is looking past me, staring at the king with a frown, and one by one the rest of the court is doing the same. I turn
to see what they are looking at.
The king is frozen beside the queen, his smile contorted into a wide-mouthed grimace, and even as Merek and I begin to move he is falling, falling into the table with a terrible crash, his hands scrabbling and knocking his goblet to the floor as he collapses next to it.
Then the screaming starts.
The screams fall away as abruptly as they began. The guards rush to the dais, swords drawn as though the king has been attacked and they will defend him. But even as they begin to surround him, the king is trying to sit up, waving his hands at them. Habit makes me move away as the guards crowd around us, and Merek grips my arm, pulling me back behind the table and keeping himself as a shield between me and the room. I try to look over his shoulder for Lief but can’t see him. The queen kneels next to the king, her hand pressed to his forehead. He says something to her, too low for me to hear, and Merek’s fingers tighten on my arm, enough to make me gasp. Below us the rest of the court is watching, their mouths dark holes in pale faces, hands clasped over their hearts as they all stare at the dais, frozen like a tableau.
Two of the Kingsguard try to help him to his feet, but he still cannot stand and they have to lift him, their arms tucked under his legs. He looks shamed as they carry him from the room. The queen stares after them, a hand held to her mouth, before she lowers it. She casts one searing glance at Merek and follows the king. Merek looks down at me, his eyes narrowed, before he releases my arm.
“Stay here,” he says. “Don’t eat or drink anything but stay here as long as the others do. Don’t let on that anything serious is amiss. Let them think it’s nothing and that they should carry on with the feast. Only leave when the rest of the court does, and then go straight to your tower. Do you understand me?”
When I nod dumbly he walks swiftly from the room, leaving me standing on the dais, surrounded by guards, with all eyes on me. I stay frozen, looking back at the court.
“The king has taken ill,” I say in a quavering voice. “It’s nothing serious, praise be to the Gods, and His Highness, Prince Merek, insists we remain here and continue to celebrate.”
Everyone eyes me with suspicion and takes their seats, but no one eats or drinks. They whisper amongst themselves, casting dark glances at me, and I sit down, painfully aware of my isolation on the dais now that the guards have faded away. I look down at the remains of the feast, at the servants hovering near the doors as if they would run, and I know the rest of the room wants to do the same, myself included. It doesn’t take long for the first of them to dissent. I am not the queen, and they don’t fear me half as much as they fear her.
“I am going to pray for the king’s health, my lady,” Lady Shasta announces and rises, and half of the court agrees, standing with her.
I look to the door and see Lief standing there, frowning at me.
“I shall do the same,” I say, rising as swiftly as I can and stepping off the platform, moving so fast the court has to scatter to get out of my way as I make for the door. I hear someone murmur “poison.” The whispers follow me from the room, and I notice that despite their hurry to pray a moment ago, no one leaves behind me. Lief’s expression is fixed as he takes his place at my side.
“Now?” he says quietly, and I shake my head, heading back to my tower in terrified silence.
“When?” Lief says as we round the last corner. “Twylla?”
“Merek told me to go straight to the tower,” I say as he opens the door.
“What does it matter what he says? This could be our best chance,” he says, following me up the stairs. “Everyone will be focused on the king and—” He turns as the tower door opens again behind us. “Who goes there?”
When there is no answer, Lief pushes me up the last few steps and follows me into the room, drawing his sword and turning to the doorway. But it is Merek who strides through the door, moving past both Lief and me to lean against the window ledge, his back to the room.
“What is it?” I say. “Is it the king?”
“Stay on the door, outside the room,” he orders Lief. “Let no one in.”
Lief looks to me and I nod, watching as he bows stiffly, his eyes boring into mine as he closes the door behind him.
“It is important to me that you’re happy, Twylla. And that you are safe,” Merek begins as soon as the latch clicks, still keeping his back to me. The words sound rehearsed, reminding me eerily of his mother and her vows for my safety.
“I am, Merek. Both of those.”
“No.” He shakes his head before turning to me, and my breath catches in my throat. Aside from two red spots of color on his cheeks, his face is as pale as a corpse’s, and his hair is awry as though he’s been pulling at it. Fear clutches at me, scraping at my insides, making me feel hollow. He walks over to me, taking my hands in his, and I fight the urge to pull away. “You don’t understand. I must ask you to do something for me. For us.”
I shake my head in confusion, and he tugs my hands again. “It’s important. It will sound terrible but you must, because if you don’t …” He trails off.
“Merek, will you please tell me what’s going on? You promised me the truth. What is this? What is happening here?”
Merek looks at me, licking his lips before he speaks. “I think my mother poisoned the king. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
I blink rapidly, trying to find the sense in his words. “I don’t understand.”
“It seems my stepfather’s plea for clemency for Lady Lorelle was the final straw. Theirs was never a love match, but she cannot have him diminishing her power. And now this … I doubt very much he will make it through the night. You were there, you saw him.”
“But surely it’s the fever, surely it’s a relapse. Rest, time …”
“I don’t think he ever had a fever. I think she misjudged the dose the first time and tried again tonight. He won’t see dawn, Twylla.”
“What kind of poison? Not oleander?” I ask, the hair on the back of my neck rising, but he shakes his head.
“I’ve no idea, but I will write to my Tregellian contacts, tell them the symptoms, see if they know of anything that causes it.”
“Merek,” I say softly, “where does this come from?”
“Because she’s grown tired of him not being the husband and king she needs him to be. I believe she plans to marry again.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
I stare at him as revulsion washes over me. “What do you mean? How can you say this?”
“Because she said it.” He covers his mouth after he’s spoken, as though he could take the words back and trap them inside, as though saying them aloud had taken something away from him.
In all my life, at every Eating, every execution, never have I seen anyone look so lost.
“I heard her say it.” He lowers his hand and continues. “I followed her to the room where my stepfather was taken and waited outside to hear what she would say. And she told him. It would be over by dawn, she said, and when he was gone only she and I would be left. And that she knew what that meant, knew what she had to do. And that it would be no worse than marrying her brother.”
I freeze, staring at him. “Merek, that’s … madness.”
“I am not the mad one here!” he shouts, and I step back, wincing at the sudden loudness. “She said it, Twylla. She said it. She’s the mad one, Twylla. Not me. She wants two children of the blood to take the throne. It’s all she’s ever wanted. To remake the Golden Age of Lormere: sister and brother, king and queen. But my father died, and Alianor died, and there were no more children. Don’t you see, she hates him for that? She could never have loved him fully—he was merely a cousin—but the fact that he couldn’t even give her a half sister for me means he’s failed her. So she will get rid of him and clear the way to marry me. She cannot keep her throne without a king by her side, and I am the last of my bloodline. She will marry me.”
I back away from him, leaning against my bureau. “But I’m still her
e. What does she plan to do with me? Does she plan to kill me, too? Is that how she will clear the way?”
Merek’s eyes become wilder. “I didn’t wait to hear her announce your murder. As soon as she confirmed what I’d suspected about her plans for me, I came straight to you.”
“Confirmed it? So you have thought this before?”
“I’ve suspected, for some time … She would say things about the future of Lormere without our blood ruling it, about whether you had the stomach to be a queen, about whether she was right to force me into a marriage with someone so different from us … I tried to tell you in the Hall of Glass, but it seemed so melodramatic at the time. Yet now my stepfather is dying and I’m sure it is at her hand. She’s made her move, Twylla.”
“You have to tell someone.” I pull away from him, heading toward the door. “She cannot do this; she cannot kill the king—it’s treason.”
“Whom do I tell?” he says as he pulls me back. “Who has more power than she does? Who can stop her?”
I stare at Merek, and I wonder for the first time whether he is a little mad, too. “So what can we do? Does she mean to poison me or”—a thought dawns on me, a small spark of something like hope—“will she make you put me aside in her favor? Is that what you must ask of me?” If he puts me aside, I’ll be free to be with Lief.
Merek’s face tightens, the skin stretching over his cheekbones as his mouth gapes in a silent moan, his face hollow and gaunt.
“If I were to put you aside, she might not kill you,” he says raggedly. “You might, at least, be safe. But it would kill me.” He looks at me, his eyes wide. “I would throw myself from this tower. To marry my own mother? Marry her?” He shudders. “So I must ask for your help. Because I have nothing and no one else.”
I look at him, into his pleading, desperate face.
“I’ve no right to ask anything of you. I know that,” he says. “I know what a thing it is to ask you to ally with me, and to trust me after what I have kept from you, and in this way, too. But I will show you my gratitude every day for as long as we both live if you will help me. Anything you want, you need only name it and you shall have it.”
The Sin Eater's Daughter Page 20