by Kel Kade
Chapter 10
Yserria stood gawking at the entrance to the dining hall with Frisha, Reaylin, and Nanessy. It was opulent and bright with warm yellow light radiating from mage-lit chandeliers. Round tables occupied the center of the room, draped in crimson table linens, with crystal goblets and filigreed porcelain place settings. No one was seated at the tables, though. All the women and their consorts stood in groups or gathered on the plush sofas and benches that were clumped around the room’s perimeter. The women were dressed in whatever they desired, from ballgowns to sheer strips of fabric. Every man in the room was massive and built like a warrior.
“I do not understand,” Nanessy whispered to Yserria. “Are there no normal men in Lon Lerésh?”
Yserria said, “I believe it is the same as anywhere, but these are some of the most powerful women in Kielen. They choose the most impressive champions to accompany them to palace functions.”
“Not every woman wants a warrior,” said Nanessy.
Yserria looked at her knowingly. “I have seen the way you look at our king. Can you say you would not choose him?”
Nanessy glanced around, obviously concerned that someone might overhear. “He is different. He is more than a warrior. I would not be interested if he were nothing more than a bunch of muscles and a handsome face.”
“I see,” Yserria said. “So, you are judging them for their looks. You do not know these men. How do you know they are not more?”
Nanessy flushed and tugged at her layers of fabric, wishing they were not so snug. She had decided to wear the sheer gown over a calf-length skirt and blouse that looked to be made from woven ribbons. She said, “That is not what I meant. You said that is the reason they are chosen. It does not seem like they are valued for anything else.”
A sultry voice crawled up Nanessy’s neck.
“Believe me,” a woman said as she moved to join them, beckoning to her consort. “We appreciate them for their many talents.” She purred in the man’s ear as he grinned appreciatively. The man had dark hair and hazel eyes, and his sun-darkened skin was stretched tight over thick muscles displayed openly beneath a loose, green, embroidered vest. The woman ran manicured nails over his exposed pectorals and said, “Banen, here, has amazing hands.” She met Nanessy’s discomfited gaze. “He is one of the court musicians who will be entertaining us tonight, and he is also one of the palace’s top archers, a member of the royal guard.”
Banen seemed to have eyes only for the woman. He stroked her jaw and pressed his lips to her neck before mumbling in her ear, “There is no need to brag, my dear.”
“Of course, there is!” she said, fluttering her darkened lashes. “You are amazing, and I am proud to call you mine.”
“As it should be,” he replied. He held her in a tight embrace, pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, and said, “I must take my place, my love. Please be sure to enjoy yourself.” He held up a finger and added, “But not too much.”
She giggled and swatted his rear as he strutted toward the musicians. As she turned to them, small jewels sparkled in the light where they dangled from her auburn hair. “You look surprised,” she said.
“No,” Nanessy said quickly and then stuttered, “Well, yes. I mean, I have never seen people so … affectionate … in public.”
The woman nodded knowingly. “I spent a short time in Ashai. This is where you are from, yes? You are all very cold.”
“Cold?” Nanessy said.
“Yes,” said the woman. “You do not share yourselves—your true selves. You are distant. Reserved, I believe, is how you say it. The women and the men. You try to act like you are not human—as if you have no feelings and desires. We Leréshi are a passionate people. We express ourselves openly in our dress, our art, our love”—she smiled fiendishly—“and in war. You do not want to cross a powerful Leréshi woman.” She eyed each of them as they remained huddled near the entrance. “I am Nayala, Matrianera of House Tekahl. Banen is my first consort. My second consort, Heylin, remains in the home to care for the male children.”
Reaylin pushed to the front of the group. “You have two consorts?”
Nayala looked her up and down and then nodded approvingly. She said, “Yes, Heylin is a good father. Several have tried to claim him from me, but Banen is a great champion and has always won him back. Together, they help to make my house strong. The strongest houses are those with the best balance.”
“Nayala,” said a vaguely familiar voice. It was the blonde, and rather forward, Matrianera Telía. She sidled up to them and said, “Do you intend to keep our guests to yourself?”
Nayala’s smile did not reach her eyes as she replied, “I was only introducing myself. They are curious about our ways.”
Telía looked over at Yserria. “I heard a rumor that you are Leréshi.”
Yserria glanced at the others and said, “My parents were Leréshi. I was born in Ashai.”
As Yserria spoke, Telía’s judgmental gaze roved her form. Yserria had wrapped a shawl around her torso, and her slinky skirt reached all the way to the floor. The woman pursed her lips at Yserria’s modesty.
“You do not carry yourself like a Leréshi,” Telía said.
“Telía, it is not for you to judge her dress,” Nayala hissed.
Telía ignored her as she ran a finger down Yserria’s neck to tug at the shawl. “You do not own your body.”
Yserria pushed the shawl away from her midsection, baring her abdomen—and the sword hilt at her waist. “If you touch me again, I will show you how well I own my body.”
Telía pulled her hand back, doing her best to hide her surprise. “I had forgotten that you carry a sword. Someone mentioned that you are a knight. Do you know how to use it or is it a ceremonial position?”
An eerie, deep voice rumbled through the doorway. “I would wager she can wield it better than your champion,” Dark Tidings said as he came to stand among the women.
He towered over them, his shadowy presence in contrast to the colorful array of silks and jewels. The empty black gaze turned toward Telía, and he added, “Should she challenge you for your champion?”
A man in a palace guard’s formal uniform, presumably Telía’s consort by the concern on his face, cautiously approached but did not interrupt.
Telía’s voice wavered as she said, “No, of course not. What would I gain should he win?”
Rezkin stepped behind Yserria and tugged the shawl from her shoulders to expose the green, lacy bustier hidden beneath. He reached around and ran a finger over her bare skin just below the torque. “This,” he said.
Nayala and Telía’s eyes widened, and Yserria’s skin reddened as everyone’s attention followed a tide of whispers straight to her bosom.
“Adana’Ro,” Nayala whispered.
“It was a gift,” Yserria said quickly. “A gift from my king.” She turned and executed a formal curtsy toward Dark Tidings. It was awkward for her, but she would have felt ridiculous saluting in her state of dress.
“Do you accept the challenge?” Dark Tidings said, his attention on Telía.
Telía drew her gaze away from the torque, glanced at the sword, and then stared into Yserria’s green eyes. “No, I do not desire the challenge.”
Dark Tidings said, “Although the ladies with whom I travel are all attractive, I did not choose them for their beauty. They are all capable, so you should not press them.”
They now had the attention of everyone in the large room. Telía shrugged as if suddenly unconcerned. “I was only curious. Leréshi women do not usually carry swords. We have champions to do that sort of thing for us.”
Yserria’s painted lips pulled into a tight grin. “Then it is a good thing your champions are always near when you need them.”
Telía’s spine straightened, and she smiled in return. “Quite,” she said and then walked away, her consort trailing behind her.
Nayala’s grin was genuine as she watched Telía’s departure. “That was beautiful,” she
murmured. Turning back to them, she said. “Telía almost never backs down from a challenge. Dayleen”—she nodded toward a laughing brunette surrounded by several friends—“will have drawn ahead now that Telía has lost significant ground. Be wary. She will seek to gain it back.”
Yserria said, “I was not trying to become involved in your politics.”
Nayala shrugged one shoulder. “She was rude, and her plan—whatever it was—backfired. She should have known better, but she is becoming desperate, I think.”
“Desperate for what?” Reaylin said as she peered around Nayala.
“The throne, of course.”
Reaylin looked back to her with wide eyes. She appeared thoroughly engrossed in the political drama. “What do you mean?”
Nayala pursed her lips and then sighed. “I suppose there is no harm in explaining it to you. Before Queen Erisial took the throne, Telía’s family was expected to produce the next monarch. They had the greatest political support in the court, seconded only by Erisial; and Telía’s mother, Paksis, had made some profitable deals that had gained her favor with several prominent echelons.”
“Echelons?” Reaylin said.
“The governors of the provinces,” said Dark Tidings.
Nayala blinked up at him as though she had somehow forgotten his presence.
“Yes,” she drawled, looking at him suspiciously. “Erisial knew that if she waited much longer, Paksis would take the throne, so she claimed it first and sent Paksis on a diplomatic mission to Gendishen. She did not return. Since then, Telía’s house has been in decline. There are now three others of nearly equal influence. You have already met them. They escorted you from the docks.”
Reaylin said, “You’re saying that the four women who are most likely to claim the throne from Queen Erisial are her closest advisors?”
Nayala smiled again. “Oh, I doubt they do much advising or that the queen has any interest in what they have to say. I believe your kingdom has the phrase as well—keep your enemies close. Erisial has always been daring. She keeps one guessing. She has plans within plans. Even the slightest move against her could have disastrous consequences. She has been very generous with her advisors. To have four high houses of nearly equal strength is unheard of and a sure way for her to keep her head.”
“So none of them are strong enough to challenge her,” Reaylin said with a giddy grin.
Dark Tidings said, “You do not seek the throne, Matrianera Nayala?”
Nayala again appeared startled, as if noticing him for the first time. She laughed and said, “No, the path to the throne leads to an early death. I would prefer to see my daughters grown. Still, I have been named a contender for the Sixth Echelon. It is a nice province, distant but peaceful.”
Reaylin bounced on her toes. “Congratulations.” She looked at Yserria and Nanessy who were standing to either side of her and said, “This is so exciting.”
Frisha, who hovered beside Rezkin behind them, mumbled, “I don’t see what’s so exciting about killing each other for positions of power.”
Reaylin rounded on her. “They’re women, Frisha. Women with power, and not all of us are handed the chance to become queen.”
“Well, not all of us want it!” Frisha snapped.
A haunting melody echoed through the hall as the musicians began to play, and Nayala smiled happily as she turned to watch her consort. She called over her shoulder, “The queen has arrived.”
On cue, several royal guardsmen entered the hall from the end opposite them. A woman in her midthirties followed, wearing a gown made entirely of cream colored feathers tied loosely with silk cord. The feathers swayed and floated as she walked, allowing glimpses of the tanned skin underneath. Her golden-blonde hair was pulled back so that thick waves of curls flowed behind her. Atop her head was a glittering crown of yellow gold and diamonds, and a long strand of saltwater pearls rested between her barely concealed breasts. She stepped onto a short pedestal at the front of the hall, turned, and waited.
The attention turned toward the visitors. Nayala quickly stepped out of the way, retreating with a Leréshi bow. Rezkin whispered a reminder to the women to present themselves. Yserria led the procession, crossing the hall with as much confidence as she could muster, her shawl hanging loosely behind her.
She curtsied before the queen and spoke in Ashaiian for the sake of her companions. “I am Yserria Rey, Knight of the Realm, Royal Guard of Cael.”
Erisial’s honey colored gaze lingered on Yserria’s features. Finally, she said, “Yserria, daughter of Ienia and niece of Yenis of House Rey.”
A wave of whispers passed through the onlookers.
“That is correct,” Yserria said with a quick glance around her.
Erisial’s gaze traversed the crowd and came to rest on an older woman who bore a pensive expression. “Yenis, your sister’s daughter has returned, yet she serves another ruler, a man. She wears the Torque of Gereldina.” She turned back to Yserria. “I am told you were given this as a gift by your king.”
“Yes,” Yserria replied, her voice heavy with caution.
Erisial’s voice was firm but casual. “Give it to me.”
“I cannot,” Yserria said. “It is enchanted.”
“If you could?” Erisial said.
“I still would not give it to you. It belongs to me.”
Erisial said, “And if I challenged you for it, would your king serve as your champion?” Her gaze was no longer on Yserria. Her attention rested on Dark Tidings, who remained at the other end of the hall.
“I have no need of a champion,” Yserria replied, “but if you want the torque, you will either have to remove my head or convince my king to unclasp it.”
Erisial looked down to Yserria. “A man has placed a collar on your neck, and you not only accept it, but fight for it. Dear girl, do you know why he did this to you—with this necklace? Because he wants me to know he can. He takes a strong woman, a knight, a future matrianera of House Rey, and chains her.”
“With all due respect, Queen Erisial, you misunderstand. I placed the collar on my own neck when I chose to swear fealty to him. It is his prerogative.”
Erisial’s expression changed, and she smiled with pleasure. “No, I understand.” She waved a hand around the crowd. “Almost any of these women would wear that torque if he presented it to them. That torque, that comes either with the blessing of the Adana’Ro or the strength of one who took it from them, also bears the weight of the untouchable King’s Tournament Champion, the rebel King of Ashai, he who claims the princess of Channería, a warrior who defeats a Gendishen army and is brazen enough to demand payment from its king. That torque on your neck in this hall means he is at your call. You may not need a champion, Daughter of Rey, but he is yours nonetheless.” Her gaze roved the faces again. “Every woman in here knows this. He knows this. It was well played.”
She captured Yserria’s gaze and said, “If you intended to stay in Lon Lerésh, I would kill you now lest you steal my throne.” To Yenis, she said, “Do you accept Yserria back into your house?”
Yenis, who had earlier appeared so uncertain of the queen’s reaction, practically leapt forward. Excitedly, she said, “Yes, Queen Erisial, my sister’s daughter is most welcome in the House of Rey.”
Erisial nodded, obviously having expected it, and said to Yenis, “You may join my council.”
Yenis grinned broadly and practically ran to join the sour-faced advisors.
Yserria glanced back at her companions and then past them to Rezkin. He had told her the torque had meaning, but she had not imagined the gift might make her a contender for the throne. She looked down at Frisha, who would not meet her gaze and then turned back to the queen.
Erisial was watching her carefully, and Yserria had no idea what the woman saw in her. She had the same sharp, endless gaze that Rezkin often wore, the one that seemed to see through everything and everyone at once.
The woman said, “You may introduce your companions, Ys
erria of House Rey.”
Yserria stepped aside and said, “This is Mage Nanessy Threll, Swordswoman and Apprentice Healer Reaylin de Voss, and Lady Frisha Marcum.”
The woman’s senses zeroed in on Frisha. “Marcum … as in relation to the Ashaiian General Marcum?”
Frisha gripped her filmy shawl tight to her shoulders and said, “Yes, I am his heir.”
“With what interesting company your king travels,” the woman mused. “Who is the boy?” she said with a nod.
Nanessy quickly said, “That is Journeyman Mage Wesson.”
“You are his tutor?” Erisial said.
“Um, sometimes, I suppose,” Nanessy said uncertainly. They had been instructed not to lie, since there were truthseekers present, but to downplay Wesson’s role where they could.
“Explain,” said the queen.
Nanessy said, “He did not attend the mage academy, so there are some formalities with which he is unfamiliar. I am also assisting him in his pursuits since he is young and has not yet reached the rank of full mage. He has not been able to achieve his goal of becoming a life mage.”
Seemingly satisfied, the queen’s attention lifted to the dark wraith at the opposite end of the hall. The others moved out of the way as he strode forward on silent feet. His forward motion ceased at the foot of the pedestal, upon which the queen stood nearly at his eye level. He performed the slightest bow in greeting but not one that could be mistaken for submission.
“Am I to treat with a mask?” she said.
Rezkin removed the mask and met her amber stare. Her attempt to conceal her surprise was not lost on him.
“So young,” she murmured. “Your name?”
“As I told your council, I have none.”