“You have more color today,” Jazmene said finally.
“I hear that’s often the result of vigorous slapping--brings the blood to the cheeks, you know.”
“At least you haven’t lost your wit.” She gently touched my cheek, the same cheek she had just slapped, the caress of a spider wrapping its prey in silken threads. When I jerked back from her hand, a slight smirk flashed across her face before she regained control of her expression. “What’s the matter?”
You fool--you just showed her the best way to harass you. “I’d like a bath, Your Majesty,” I said aloud even as I cursed my inability to remain impassive. “I wouldn’t want you to besmirch your royal hands.”
She laughed. “But scruffy villainy suites you. You know, if I could trust you, I’d summon one of the valets to give you a shave.”
“Am I so dangerous that you can’t let a strong man near me with a razor because I might steal it away from him and take control of the palace? I’m flattered, but really, Your Majesty, you should have more faith in your servants and guard.”
“I have faith in them--just not when it comes to Mordric’s training. It’s not flattery,” she continued, her voice dropping almost to a whisper, “when I tell you that I admire your cunning and strength, especially in so young a man. I can see why Esme’s smitten.” She ran her hand over my jaw and down my neck, over my shoulder to my chest, where her fingers came to rest above my pounding heart. Her resemblance to Esme reminded me of Father’s resemblance to me, as much a result of good training as of blood. He had trained me to be a warrior like him. She had apparently trained Esme to be a flirtatious harlot like her.
“Why didn’t you bring Lord Toscar today? Perhaps he’d rather not see you seducing men half his age?”
Her answering laugh filled the air with melodious richness, so rich that it invited me to taste her. It was the richness of a brandy-soaked plum pudding, the kind of richness that would leave a man sick and weak in an hour if he partook of it. How did Toscar still stand her, after all these years?
“Radik is my most-favored servant in many respects, but he isn’t my only servant,” she said, her finger tracing the gold threads of the embroidered lion‘s head on my tunic. “A clever young foreigner could find many paths at this court to advance himself.”
“What sort of paths? Lord Rankin already holds the ambassadorship--that‘s the only formal office Cormalen has in Sarneth.”
“Come, Merius, use your considerable imagination. The Sarneth court is the hub of culture and philosophy for the five nations. You have other talents besides the ones your father chose to exploit in his pursuit of power. Esme says your verse is excellent, you have an appreciation for art, and Lord Rankin praises your curiosity and natural affinity for invention. Just because you have no formal training in these areas doesn’t mean that you have no talent in them. I would hate to see you wasted in the king’s guard, or worse yet, assassinated or dead on a battlefield.”
“What about dead at the hands of a rapacious queen?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she drew back slightly, a predator suddenly puzzled by her prey. “Do you really think so ill of me?”
I chuckled. “Do you really think me so dull-witted?”
We stared at each other for a long moment, and the false warmth in her eyes faded like a will-o-the-wisp, leaving me stranded in the night. “Fine,” she hissed finally. “If you’re such a fool to insult and defy me, I have no choice but to be harsh. Break the mind bond with Safire, or we‘ll break it for you.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you listen? I told you that it’s too strong a bond. It’s dangerous for you and her.”
“And you think I trust anything you say? For all I know, you want me to break it so that you can,” I paused, “dispose of me.”
“You’re insane--the bond has already broken your mind, if you think that. Why would we want to kill you?”
“Because I’m a distraction to Safire and your plans for her. Because I’m a voice of reason, a protector to her.”
Jazmene laughed, and this time, the sound was high and raucous, a laugh intended to mock, not seduce. “Voice of reason, indeed. You do amuse me, at least. Your foolishness is due to youth and passion and will doubtless pass with maturity--if you make it that far. I told you that there are many paths here for a clever young foreigner, and one of those paths for you is Safire. Are you so blinded that you won’t take it? You could make quite a comfortable life for you both here, if you would just comply with a few of my simple requests. You’ll regret your insane defiance before the end, but it’ll be too late for you then. I’m a patient woman, but you persist in testing me.”
“Let’s see if this is past your limit,” I said. “Tell Lord Toscar I wish to challenge him to a duel.”
She straightened, her eyes lingering long as she considered me, weighed me in her mind. “He’ll kill you,” she said finally, her voice flat.
“Not if I kill him first.”
She smiled, and I knew then that I was right. In the depths of her shadowy heart, this woman was a gambler who wanted nothing more than to watch her suitors and courtiers battle for her favors, even if it meant the sacrifice of her lover, chief assassin, personal bodyguard, and head administrator. She was mad, very mad, and finally we could use it to our advantage.
“You’re bold, I’ll give you that. What are the terms?” she asked.
“First, my ribs need a month to heal completely. Second, no more doses of your . . . medicine.”
“That’s only fair. It wouldn‘t be much of a match with one of you partly incapacitated.”
“And you do like to see a good match, don’t you, Your Majesty?”
Her smile widened to a grin. “You have hit on a weakness of mine, Merius, I must admit.”
“As for the terms, if I win, I go free, and you leave Safire and me in peace. If I lose, you’ll be rid of me.”
“What about Safire if you lose?”
“I make no promises for her. Your only advantage if I lose is to be rid of me. Since I’m the one issuing the challenge, you’ll at least be rid of me in a way that does not compromise you or Lord Toscar.”
“I do worry about the effect of your death on Safire now that you’re mind bonded. You should consider it as well, if you really mean to issue this challenge.”
“I do.”
“Fine then--let me sleep on it. If, in the morning, your challenge still holds and I have no further misgivings, I’ll let Radik know, and he can decide if he accepts. Till tomorrow then, Merius.” She turned to leave the chamber.
I inclined my head. “Your Majesty.”
She lingered at the door, giving me one last look over her shoulder. “Perhaps if you lose, we’ll see if Safire really can save lives.”
Chapter Twenty-Five - Safire
I jerked awake, already grasping for Sewell. He wasn't in my arms. The air of the convent library stirred around me, beams of sunlight shimmering as if the dust motes were gold flecks. I heaved a deep breath, my hand over my pounding heart when I saw Sewell asleep in a basket at my feet. He had woken me at three this morning with an ear-splitting wail. He hadn't needed changing, he hadn't wanted to be fed, and when I'd tried to soothe him with my witch talents, he had grown quiet for only a minute or two before screeching again. I'd walked him up and down the narrow cell for what seemed like hours before the abbess came, glanced at his face, put her hand over his stomach, and then announced he had colic. When I wondered aloud if the strain of Merius's imprisonment had soured my milk, the abbess had clucked at me and shooed me away to the library to rest. I had curled up in the big leather-cushioned chair under a blanket, dawn just beginning to tinge pink at the edges of the high windows, and fallen asleep almost immediately. I'd woken once or twice since then to feed Sewell and change his rag, only to fall right back into dreamland until he cried again.
"You wore yourself and mama out, didn't you, sweetling?" I asked Sewell. He slept on his stomach, his little hand
s fisted above the edge of the blanket, his head turned to the side. From this angle, I could see his nose. Distinctly snub, just like my and my father's noses. The abbess had sniffed when I mentioned this to her, saying that babies might as well be shape-shifters, with how much their appearance changed during the first year of their lives. She had sniffed even louder when I insisted his blue eyes looked green in certain lights. Well, she knew a lot, but she didn't know everything, I reminded myself.
I sank back in the chair and snuggled under the blanket with a shiver. Why had I woken up like that? Sewell was still asleep, so it couldn't have been his crying that woke me, not this time. I remembered being yanked from sleep, like I'd heard someone yell my name. It hadn't been one of Merius's nightmares, had it? No, that didn't seem quite right. Merius had been involved in it, though, somehow. I stared up at the windows and pondered how they opened them. Merius had been talking the queen--I could hear both their voices in my head, arguing. He had issued a challenge to Toscar . . . oh no.
I abruptly stood, the blanket sliding to the floor. I grabbed it and Sewell's basket. He stirred at the sudden movement, and I paused. His small mouth blossomed in a yawn, and then his flutter of breath grew steady and deep again as he slipped back into sleep. I tiptoed from the library and down the hall toward the main door and my cell. There came a loud knock on the main door, and I halted. The knock boomed again. Sewell's eyelids flickered, his aura flaring orange as he woke, and I reached down to touch his head as I imagined his aura dwindling again to a thin blue line of smoke around him.
I heard the click of the latch and the creak of the door and then Helanes's voice. "Yes, good sir?"
"City watch. May I enter, my lady?" A gravelly voice inquired. I froze, then lunged toward the nearest doorway where I crouched in the shadows, my arms clutched around Sewell's basket so tightly the woven rush sides pressed painful patterns into my skin.
"Certainly." The door creaked again as Helanes opened it wider. "If you'll wait here, I can summon the abbess."
"No need for that." Gravelly cleared his throat. "I just have a few questions. We know you give shelter here, and we're wondering if you've seen a red-haired woman in the last few weeks. She's young, slight build, and would be speaking Sarns with a Corcin accent . . . "
"I wish I could help, but as I told your men before, we've seen no one here from Cormalen for six months or more." Helanes started to close the door, but then the man apparently stopped her, as the creak died with an abrupt wail. Merius had been going to oil it, I remembered, my arms a tight circle around the basket as I willed Sewell to stay asleep.
"This girl--if she comes here, keep her here and send someone for a watchman."
"Is she dangerous? Because if she's dangerous, we can't keep her here. We have no warriors or guards and we nuns are not trained in battle."
Gravelly chuckled, a rasp that turned into a choke as he coughed. He must have had a cold like half the city this time of year. "She's dangerous, but not in the way you think. She's a witch who seems able to bend the very air to her will. We know she's in this city but we haven't been able to detect even a rumor of her these last couple weeks."
"What's her crime?"
"Never you mind that--just know if we don't find her soon, we'll be back with more men, and we'll search the convent."
"Well, I never," Helanes said--it was rare for indignation to sour her voice, so I knew she was really upset. "I told you we've seen no one from Cormalen here in months--when is the word of a holy nun not good enough?"
"It's good enough for me, my lady, but I'm just a lowly watchman, and we have orders from the palace to search. You tell your abbess for me, all right?"
I gripped the basket, trembling so hard that Sewell looked like he was shivering. I would go back to the cell and gather my things and leave . . . I could melt into the seething mass of people and disappear with my baby. But what if Falken revealed that I had been hugely pregnant the last time he saw me? No, he wouldn't do that. But what if he did? And even if he didn't, they could still stop me and ask questions and then all would be lost. And surely if they were here asking questions, they had been everywhere close by asking questions, so a safe refuge would be impossible to find. Mordric had said they were questioning everyone who tried to board a ship, and when he had tried to sneak through the city gates the other day just to see what would happen, they had stopped him. I looked down at Sewell, who was languidly sucking his thumb, and drew breath with a moan. If she was willing to torture Merius, what would she do to my son? Sewell was in danger as long as I held him. If they found me with him, they would know I was his mother and somehow use that fact to control me. Sewell was better off as an anonymous orphan than to be known as my son. No, no, I couldn't let myself think that. I couldn't leave him. But if it was the only way to protect him . . .
"Safire?" I gave a little screech as Helanes knelt beside me. "It's all right, dear, the watchman's gone now."
I opened my mouth to speak, then choked as I rocked back and forth, my breath hitching in my chest. When I finally exhaled, I began to sob.
"Safire?" Helanes put her hand on my shoulder.
Sewell's eyelids fluttered open as my hot tears dripped down and landed on his head. I picked him out of the basket and rocked him in my arms. "I'll come back for you," I said over and over again, kissing his silky forehead, inhaling the scent of scalded milk that always seemed to hang around him, even after his bath. "I'll come back when it's safe."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Now that the palace steps loomed in front of me, I faltered, the momentum of my resolve giving way to terror. If I climbed them, would I ever descend them? If I allowed the guards to lead me through the main entrance, past the humbling glory of the huge gilt-edged carved doors, heard them boom shut behind me, would I ever leave this place? It seemed the last several months had been a succession of cages, a long hallway of locked doors, and now I stood before the biggest cage of all, begging entry. Was I mad? Mad as the queen perhaps? Perhaps, but at least my madness was born of love, not of greed.
This thought spurred my feet forward. First one step, then the next, then the one after that. I had never realized there were so many steps. Of course, I had climbed them before with a buoyant heart, clasping Merius’s hand as the distant merry melody of the ballroom music summoned us to dance. Now my heart thumped dully, leaden beats weighing down my feet and making each step up an effort.
At the top of the steps, several guards lounged in the pleasant boredom of early afternoon, and I was almost through the door before one noticed me and jumped up.
“My lady, if you don’t mind, what business have you here?” he asked, as courteous as if he asked for the favor of a dance.
“My business is with Her Majesty Queen Jazmene,” I said softly, so soft I could barely hear myself.
“Forgive me, but I can’t recognize you under that hood. I’ll need your name, if you wish to proceed further.” A courtly older guard, tall and whip-thin with graying hair and wise lines of experience deepening at the sides of his mouth and around his alert brown eyes. I recognized him, one of the many guards who had escorted me at one time or another when I came here for my lessons with Korigann.
I lifted my hood and shook loose my hair. “Her Majesty doesn’t expect me, though I’d wager a pouch of gold lupins she’ll see me.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lady.” He took my elbow, as chivalrous as a suitor leading me to a formal banquet. One would never have guessed I was his prisoner now. I shuddered, the ice of fear freezing me to my marrow. What had I done? What was I doing? I began to shake my head, tried to jerk my elbow from his grasp. His hand tightened, just enough so I could feel it.
“Need any help, Feodras?” A couple of the other guards, apparently curious about what was taking so long, sauntered up to us. One gave a sharp intake of breath. “Well, I’ll be damned. We’ve ransacked every gutter chamber under this city for you, sweetling. You must truly be the witch they call you to vanish
like that.”
“Of course she’s a witch. Just look at that hair. Pure copper, like all the legends say.” I felt an unpleasant tingle at the back of my scalp and realized that one of the brutes was fingering a curl. I kicked back hard, aiming for the general vicinity of his lower leg. My foot connected with something solid, and from his curses and his companion’s chuckle, I gathered I’d hit my mark, more or less.
“Back to your posts,” Feodras barked. “She’s not for the likes of you to manhandle.”
Their grumbles faded quickly behind us as Feodras guided me forward into the vaulted recesses of the great hall. The shadowed silence overhead weighed on my shoulders, so vast and distant was the ceiling above. These Sarneth rulers did know how to use architecture to intimidate. I was a child again, lost in this echoing cavern of a palace. The light gleamed coldly across the marble floors. Even the air was frigid, needles of ice like frostbite in my lungs. If anger was fire, then fear must be ice. Rage had propelled me forward--now terror threatened to freeze me in place.
*Where are you? Merius demanded.
I blocked him. It wasn’t hard this time--I had no thoughts, no words to share. Even if I had wanted to respond, I couldn’t. He would likely sense my fear but not the reason for it. I gazed straight ahead, not blinking--the mere act of putting one foot in front of another required all my concentration.
“My lady, do you need a moment?” Feodras asked. I swiveled my head to look at him. “To prepare yourself to see the queen,” he added, interpreting my glance as a question.
I shook my head. “Are you certain? You look pale,” he said.
“Do I?” My voice sounded distant, some younger Safire’s voice, not mine.
“We have a small chamber with a washstand, a mirror, combs . . . the young ladies use it quite often when they‘re being presented to the queen.”
Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2) Page 46