Sometime in the past days, Lord Paulin had turned an enormous upper-story room with a huge window and a wide balcony into a kind of war room. It was a beautiful room, but papers and maps littered every table and half the chairs. Lord Paulin told the servants to bring wine and rolls, fruit and cakes. He himself swept papers and maps off one table, two chairs, and a couch before he came to lead Oressa to a seat. He didn’t hover over Gajdosik, but then Gajdosik did not appear to need anyone to hover over him. He leaned his hip against the largest table, seeming content for the moment to allow Lord Paulin to take the lead.
Paulin took the wine away from the servant who brought it and poured Oressa a cup with his own hands. This he offered to her with an old-fashioned courtesy that was well suited to his age and stature, both kind and punctilious. He said, “I’m sorry to hear of His Majesty’s passing, Your Highness, but you say . . . you did say he died defending you from Bherijda?”
“Yes,” whispered Oressa. A week ago she would have declared with absolute confidence, I will never forgive my father anything, not if he goes down on his knees and begs me. Now she said instead, “I don’t understand why he . . . why he would do that.”
Lord Paulin said gently, “I’m sure he knew his own mind and did exactly as he meant.”
“He always did,” Oressa agreed in a small voice.
Gajdosik said quietly, “Fathers are often difficult for their children to understand. Or forgive. But if he sacrificed himself in the end to protect Your Highness and his kingdom from my brother, then at least I will honor him for that.”
Oressa nodded. She wasn’t sure she could do the same, but she thought . . . she thought she might at least try.
“But now . . . ,” said Lord Paulin. “Forgive me for speaking bluntly, but if His Majesty is gone and Prince Gulien is not . . . not well . . . I believe I understand accurately that His Highness is not well? Then, Your Highness, have you considered . . . ?” He hesitated again, his painstaking effort to explain the obvious failing at this point.
Oressa had never stepped into public view, not even after she attained her majority. She had stayed out of her father’s way and therefore out of everyone’s sight. Now Lord Paulin was trying to find a way to explain that if her brother wasn’t here to take the throne, then she would have to step forward herself and take the throne. And that she would have to marry, because while Gulien could have ruled on his own account, a woman, especially a woman as young as Oressa, would be expected to present Carastind with an appropriate husband. It was ridiculous, no doubt, but Oressa knew perfectly well that this moment, after this terrible summer, after her people had lost first their king and then their prince, was not the time to challenge custom.
Lord Paulin obviously thought she would be too shy to do what she had to do, and he might be thinking that he had better make suggestions about whom she should marry. She could see he was embarrassed. That was part of his uncharacteristic hesitation.
He didn’t know yet, because she hadn’t had time to show him—she had barely had time to realize it herself—that whatever she chose to do, she had already stepped into the light. That she would never again be able or willing to step back into the shadows.
Lord Paulin said earnestly, “I . . . Your brother once suggested . . . but I don’t believe you consider that we should suit. Yet you must marry, Your Highness, if you will be queen regnant.”
“Oh,” said Oressa, smiling at him, “I do know that, Lord Paulin. I think I can stand it.” She looked at Gajdosik.
He was standing beside a chair, his arm resting along its back, his face turned down toward the floor, frowning. He might have looked indifferent, except for his stillness, which was not the quiet of indifference. He might have looked relaxed, except for the hard grip of his hand on the back of the chair. As though Oressa’s gaze pulled at his, he lifted his head to meet her eyes.
“I certainly won’t let you conquer Carastind,” Oressa told him. “You’ll have to marry me, you know. It’s the only way you can be king. Though if you say a single word about gilded cages with every luxury, well, you can just find another princess to hand you a different kingdom.”
“I have no wish to bring that particular custom to Carastind,” Gajdosik assured her. “Not only would your people kill me for attempting anything of the kind, but you would surely escape any cage that might be built.” He was not smiling. The expression in his eyes was too intense to be a smile. He said, “You will be an extraordinary queen. As my mother might have been, had she been permitted.” But he gave Lord Paulin a wary look. “Even so, however, I am certain your people would, of course, prefer that you accept a worthy Carastindin lord.”
Lord Paulin straightened ponderously. He no longer looked embarrassed, only exasperated and faintly amused. “I think that decision can safely be left to Her Highness. Besides, all our worthy Carastindin lords would resent any among them whom Her Highness might choose. In some ways, it’s simpler to elevate a foreign prince. I’m confident Her Highness has sound judgment.”
“Well, I hope so,” Oressa said tartly. “Though I hope that in the years to come, my loyal and steadfast Carastindin lords will give us both the benefit of their good counsel.”
“I think you may not only hope for that but demand it,” Lord Paulin told her.
Oressa did like Paulin, she decided. Now that he had realized she was actually not stupid, she even thought she might learn to trust him. She said to Gajdosik, “So you see, I think Carastind will be willing to see a foreign prince marry their queen.”
Gajdosik was starting to smile. It hadn’t reached his mouth yet, but his eyes were alight. Even so, he said, “We did not begin well, you and I. You are confident in this decision?”
“Once my people are yours, you’ll do anything to be sure they prosper,” Oressa told him. “What, did you think I hadn’t noticed your . . . your steadfastness? That’s what I want for Carastind. Besides, you’re too ambitious and ruthless to let you stay on this side of the Narrow Sea unless you’re committed to Carastind.” She hesitated and then added, unable to prevent a slight hesitation from coming into her tone, “As long as . . . that is, if . . . you think you can stand to be married to me.”
Gajdosik’s smile crooked just the corner of his mouth now. He looked at once very sober and highly entertained. He said, “I think I will be able to accommodate myself to the idea. Do you know . . . ? Do you know how my heart stopped when you leaped out that tower window?” He added thoughtfully, “But that was hardly the moment you caught my attention. When you promised me that you would take care of my people.” He paused and then added, “No. Before that. I already knew I could trust you to take care of them for me. Because of your courage, and your wit, and your kindness. I think I had already noticed how brightly you shone in that stinking warehouse where you threw my words about bread back in my face.”
“I noticed your confidence. Not to say arrogance.” A blazing confidence filled Oressa right now, in fact. Not to say arrogance. She said smoothly, “Princesses always make purely political marriages, of course. Think of all the potential advantages of this one. They’re quite breathtaking. Naturally that’s my sole concern.” It was taking considerable effort to tamp out her own smile, which wanted to turn into a ridiculous grin. She ought to be worried for Gulien. She ought to be concerned about what her less loyal and steadfast Carastind lords would think. She really ought to be worried about what new and deadly threat might come out of Tamarist. She ought to be absolutely terrified something might happen to the Kieba before Gulien was ready to take her place in that mountain.
Somehow at the moment she couldn’t be afraid of anything. She stepped toward Gajdosik, laid a hand on his arm, stood on her toes, and whispered in his ear, “Of course, I did promise to tell you when I lied to you.” She paused, and then added, in an even lower whisper, “That was a lie.”
Gajdosik laughed out loud at this ambiguous assurance. He put his hand on her arm in turn, tentatively, as though not yet quit
e certain he had the right to touch her. When she didn’t move away, he slid his hand down to her waist. He said huskily, “I would never hold a lady to such a promise.”
“I never promised to actually tell you the truth,” Oressa pointed out.
“That’s all right, then.” His eyes met hers. “Promise me you’ll show me all the secret passages you have built into the new palace. . . .”
“As long as you promise not to stop me from climbing on roofs. . . .”
“As if I could stop you from doing anything. But I’ll give you no reason to run from me.”
Oressa laughed. She knew he was telling her the truth.
RACHEL NEUMEIER is the author of several critically acclaimed novels, including The City in the Lake and House of Shadows. She now raises and shows dogs, gardens, cooks, and occasionally finds time to read. She works part-time for a tutoring program, though she tutors far more students in math and chemistry than in English composition. Visit her online at rachelneumeier.com.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. • Text copyright © 2016 by Rachel Neumeier • Jacket illustration copyright © 2016 by Marc Simonetti • Map copyright © 2016 by Robert Lazzaretti • All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Saga Press Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 • SAGA PRESS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc. • For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected]. • The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. • The text for this book was set in Sabon. • Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: Names: Neumeier, Rachel, author Title: The mountain of kept memory / Rachel Neumeier. Description: First Edition. | New York : Saga Press, [2016] Identifiers: LCCN 2015050228 (print) | LCCN 2016007992 (ebook) | ISBN 978-1-4814-4894-9 (hardback) | ISBN 978-1-4814-4896-3 (ebook) Subjects: | BISAC: FI CTION / Fantasy / General. | FICTION / Fantasy / Epic. | FICTION / Action & Adventure. | GSAFD: Fantasy fiction. Classification: LCC PS3614.E553 M68 2016 (print) | LCC PS3614.E553 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23 LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015050228
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