It wasn't a choice at it turned out, the door shut behind them, a lock clicking into place. Ashra stared at it. The door was just as ornate on the inside. Then she turned her attention to the apartment, which was sumptuously decorated. The floors were light marble with green seams running through it and the walls were covered in green and gold silk. The ceiling was ornate as well, plaster swirls covering it, accented with gold leaf. A carved stone pillar held up a rounded archway.
On a table, she saw a satchel and froze. It was Torunn's. She recognized it immediately. These were his apartments. She walked into the parlor, her steps echoing in the cavernous space. A seating arrangement was located in the middle, again, gold leaf and fine fabrics. Through a set of double doors, she could see the bed chamber with a large bed looking inviting. She could even find traces of Torunn's scent in here and tears formed in her eyes. This is where he'd been when he’d left her.
An archway led to a dining room, formally appointed with dark, shiny wood. There was also a balcony beyond the long, sheer curtains and she approached, pushing the handle until the glass doors swung opened. As with the apartment interior, the balcony was marble and carved stone. The view looked out over the land and Ashra realized how elevated she was. It must have been over a hundred feet down to the ground, if not more. She could see the weather fronts rolling in over the land, mountains in the distance and wind dancing over crops. It looked peaceful from here. She just wished she felt it, but tendrils of worry continually unfurled inside her. If there was one thing she knew, it was that this peace was deceiving.
Chapter 3:
* * *
Ashra had to ask someone to lead her to the throne room, where the assembly was held. Miles of corridors sat between her and where she needed to go and she had no means of getting there, or anywhere else, without the help of a page. Her heels echoed off the cavernous walls, making it sound like people were walking behind them, but when she looked back, there was no one. She'd given up on trying to memorize direction; it was just too much.
She had dressed finely—grey and russet robes of silk and satin. She wore some of the Greve family jewels around her wrist and neck. It wasn't comfortable looking at herself in the mirror dressed like that, as it wasn't how she saw herself by any stretch of the imagination, but it was expected. She preferred simple, functional clothes, but there was a different standard here, and appearing less than capable was not in her interest.
Tabain had to dress as well and she'd dressed him in a dark suit. He looked adorable, but the purpose was to convey that he was a nobleman, a Greve, and couldn't be swept under the carpet because he was too young to defend himself.
Finally, the page had taken them to a large set of doors, black lacquered and large enough for giants to enter through if they wished. Liviered guards stood at attention by the door and for a moment, Ashra feared they weren't going to let her in.
Would that be so bad? she asked herself. She could flee from here, back to the safety of their estate, but what was the point?—she'd be burying her head in the sand and it wouldn't be safe at all. They would come, strip them of the land and just take it. If she had no power, no influence, she would lose everything—and Tabain his future. No, she had to be strong.
The page directed the guards, who grudgingly opened the doors. It must be quite an art heaving those large doors while still looking regal.
At first, only the throne was in view and he sat there—looking old. He was a fearsome creature, had overturned the whole land in his quest for power and here he was, looking old. She was almost disappointed, but she knew not to underestimate him. He was the most powerful man in the land, and he had means and resources, even magics, that no one else could match.
As well as looking old, he looked bored and Ashra wondered if ruling, which he'd worked so long and hard to attain wasn't as exciting as he'd expected it to be. He was a creature of war, after all, and now he'd run out of enemies.
He sat looking regal in black and purple robes. Purple, because she assumed it was the color of royalty. That was what he’d proclaimed himself to be now—the king. Bony knees jutted out under his robes and his wrists lay heavily on the arm rests as if it took too much energy to lift them.
The walls behind him were black velvet and a parapet hovered above him. The walls were silver brocade and the floor contrasting with the light marble of the floors, where a lush carpet led up to the throne. The throne was gold, the only gold in the room. For all she knew, it was solid gold. She wouldn't put it past him.
"The liege will receive you now," one of the guards said.
Ashra stepped forward and the view widened, bringing in the people around him, countless people dressed as well as money could buy. Silk, satin, jewels covered every surface Ashra's eyes settled on. She felt conflicting instincts. Primarily she wanted to keep an eye on Raufasger, but a whole suite of players revealed themselves—most which didn't think she belonged here. No doubt she was sullying the very air they breathed.
Faces she had met as guests at the estate were among the crowd. All attention turned her way and the room quieted. She saw Merell Wilkess, their distant neighbor, looking harsh and uncompromising, but then he always did. His eyes were weasel hard as they followed her progress. Fiedra, a woman she had briefly been introduced to once was there, wearing a gown so shiny black it almost looked liquid. Heavy stones sat around her neck and she raised her eyebrows in surprise as she saw Ashra walk in.
Surely it wasn't a surprise that she had been summoned? Or maybe Fiedra's surprise had been that she'd had the guts to show up here. A fission of fear ran through her. Was Fiedra right? Was it insane of her to show up? Would Raufasger run her through on the spot? Or would she end up in one of those horrid iron cages along the road leading here?
Tabain shifted uncomfortably on her hip, not knowing what was going on and unused to seeing so many people in one place. She had to pull her wits together. Her aim today was to be presented. She kept walking, aware of another set of burning eyes on her, the arrogant, blond who she suspected was Roisen Lorcan. Torunn had mentioned him, his power and cunning unsurpassed amongst Raufasger’s court. Sneaking a glance, she saw his expression was less than friendly. Icy eyes followed her as she steadily walked toward the throne.
She wiped those vicious eyes out of her mind and focused her attention on the man ahead of her, who watched with complete lack of expression as she approached. When close enough, she kneeled, at the same time bowing. If he was going to kill her, he'd do so now. Along with her, it seemed the whole room was holding its breath. Even Tabain seemed to pick up on the gravity of the situation and was silent, his eyes large with tension.
"So here you are," Raufasger's bored voice said. It had a thin vibration to it as if speaking wasn’t in his nature. "I'm glad nothing unforeseen happened to you on the roads."
She supposed it was fortunate as desperate people did what they had to on the roads these days. Their desperation was so substantial, Raufasger's harsh punishment was something people believed they had to risk. "I had an uneventful journey," she confirmed as she stood, taking his scrutiny.
Raufasger's gaze studied her face. His regard wasn't friendly, but there was mild curiosity shining out of his sharp and beady eyes. Ashra held her breath. This man had her life in his hands and no one would stand in his way if he sought to take it from her. That included the guards that stood at his back, standing like statues who would spring to attention on Raufasger's command.
His gaze shifted to Tabain. "And the young master," he said, his voice cracking and creaking like unused leather. "A beautiful child. It is an inescapable fact that halfbreeds are the most beautiful, is it not? What must one make of that?"
Ashra wasn't sure she was supposed to answer the question. In any sense, she had no idea how he wanted her to respond. The Solmnites and Naufrens were very different in features. The Naufrens from the cold north were lighter in color, the Solmnites darker with more sun.
Was this observation a
compliment? Raufasger didn't do compliments. Or was she supposed to walk into a trap, to convey her opinion on the false value structures this man had put in place. No, doing so would be a bad idea. As much as she reviled it, it was this man's belief, and his belief was what mattered—on point of death.
"He has been a blessing to us in every way," she finally said, grateful her voice held steady. She could not show how nervous she was—any weakness. Now she had to reply—a statement innocuous enough to not offend.
The man's gaze lingered on Tabain, almost as if he wished to eat him. Ashra felt her hair rise along her arms, zinging energy out across her skin. This man made her skin crawl. Every instinct told her not to be in his presence.
"Well, there is no us now, is there?" Raufasger stated. Ashra couldn't read the meaning of the sentence. "Which places you in a bit of a pickle," he continued with a wry smile. "But we will see how you do." He sounded almost amused now.
Again, Ashra didn't know how she was supposed to respond. She didn't know what he was referring to. It sounded almost as if she was going to be tested.
"You have done well for yourself," he said, looking down his ugly nose at her, his eyes flashing with malice. He made it sound like she had engineered her position.
"I have been very lucky."
He made a noise as if telling her off for being less than truthful. "Luck tends to favor those intelligent enough to capitalize on it. No, you have climbed high—perhaps bitten off more than you can chew, girl. But here you are, ready to face my court. Do you think you can survive here?" His eyes traveled around the room surveying his domain with pride. "They might just eat you alive."
What was he warning her of? Why had he summoned her? Was it for sport, for him to watch his court rip her to pieces? No, she assured herself—she was here to represent the family. Every prominent family needed a representative at court. Raufasger was perhaps only acknowledging that this was a tough crowd. If he truly meant her ill, he would have harmed her. More than a few people would, no doubt, enjoy seeing her tortured in front of them as entertainment.
He waved her away dismissively. A tremble threatened to overtake her now that she seemed to be out of immediate danger. Tabain observed her unease and now started fussing. Ashra feared he would start to cry, drawing disapproval from every corner. "We're not home free just yet," she told him quietly. He seemed to pick up on her tension and clasped tightly to her.
Raufasger's attention was now on someone else and Ashra stepped back, retreating back into the room. Well, one question was answered. Raufasger hadn't killed or imprisoned her. That was an important discovery, but it didn't really answer what he wanted her here for. Was her summons a kindness, telling her she needed to take care of her patch? She had no doubts he cared nothing for her. He had never been a champion of her kind, but perhaps he felt he owed the House of Greve the chance to defend itself—even if its champion was less than ideal.
Chapter 4:
* * *
With a wave of Raufasger's hand, Ashra was dismissed. It was done. She'd been presented; they'd had their little chat and now it was over. But what did this mean? Was Tabain's future secure now? Could they leave? Had the purpose for which they had been brought here been fulfilled? How she wished it would be that easy, but she doubted it.
For a moment, she didn't know what to do, standing alone in the large hall, surrounded by people. The murmur of discussion escalated as people drew their attention back from the presentation of the newcomer in their midst.
Ashra had no idea what she was supposed to do now, what expectations were on her. Unfortunately, she knew no one who could tell her this.
Slowly, she retreated, still feeling eyes follow her. The men were dressed in finely tailored clothes, often with gold or silver accents, while the women were colorful as jewels. Being a very fine gown she wore, it was muted compared to some of the others. One even had hundreds of peacock feathers down the back of her skirt, the material underneath of aquamarine silk. Jewels sparkled in every direction.
Were most of the riches in the land concentrated in this room? she wondered. Scanning the crowd, she settled on a familiar face, Sune Ackerle, who had dined at the estate once. He’d seemed like a personable man, had behaved impeccably and been very kind to her.
Not knowing the etiquette made her uncomfortable as she approached Ackerle, but she did it anyway. As she got closer, she noticed Allor Heiege as well. He wasn't immediately recognizable at first, having gained some impressive jowls since she’d seen him last.
"Lady Greve," Stewart said with a slight bow. He was older and thinner. "What a pleasure to make your acquaintance again."
"We were so very sorry to hear about your loss. Quite an unexpected and unpleasant surprise," Heiege smiled. It was more an awkward grimace, but that was apparently the best he could manage. "So sorry for your loss. Wonderful man."
"Yes, he was," she said, feeling relieved because this was conversation she could manage and these two seemed to have liked and respected Torunn. "The whole family is devastated."
"As is the whole court," Ackerle said emphatically. "It was the most shocking news. We saw him only the day before, and he looked perfectly normal."
Heiege shuddered. "It's awful to think one can go so quickly, here one moment, then gone another."
Ackerle seemed to give Heiege a pointed look, but then wiped it from his features. He turned his attention back to Ashra. "So you are to join us. A pleasant addition, I can assure you. And this is your son?"
"Tabain."
"Lovely boy. I can see his father in him. He must be a comfort to you in these difficult times."
Ashra wanted to say that it was made worse when you have to endure such a large change, having to pack up and come here, not knowing for how long or even why. They would have been better off grieving at home, but then she didn't want to sound ungrateful. Instead, she smiled.
She wondered if she could ask them about what she needed to do, but she didn't know them well enough to feel comfortable doing so. This environment was so completely alien, and they were a part of it. "How often do we assemble like this?" she asked tentatively. What she wanted to know was what she was required to attend, but that sounded too blunt, and she had a feeling that giving an indication that she was less than honored to be in their company might not be the best choice. The fact that Torunn had never felt that he could say no to any of Raufasger's decrees served as a warning in her mind.
"Whenever the liege wants," Heiege said, again smiling. It wasn't exactly a genuine smile, there was a hint of tolerance as if speaking to a child. Maybe that was how he saw her. Who knew what their prejudice against her kind they hid away when being received as guests, but at least they weren't completely shunning her. That would be awful. "I must have a quick word with Taystoc. Please excuse me," he said with a bow.
Ackerle, being left alone with her looked awkward as if the conversation had drawn on too long and now there was nothing more to say, but it would be rude to just desert her. Looking around, she saw a table with finger food and wine glasses. "I might seek some refreshment," she said, feeling Tabain squirm on her hip. Ashra was impressed and grateful how tolerant he had been in this situation. Hopefully, in the future, she wouldn't have to bring him. No one else had children with them.
Ackerle looked relieved at being unburdened with her care and nodded as she walked away. Away from safety, she felt the vastness of the room press down on her, along with the disapproval she knew these people felt.
A woman stepped in her path, wearing that black liquid gown with emeralds around her neck. Fiedra. Her light pearl hair was elaborately decorated with jewels as well. Her haughty expression considered Ashra, taking in what she was wearing and the jewels she wore.
"Lady Greve," Fiedra said with the slightest curtsy.
Ashra curtsied back. Awkwardly, she didn't know exactly what the woman’s title was—didn’t remember. Fiedra's eyebrows rose as if insulted Ashra didn't greet her back, but she co
uldn't. She couldn't very well call her Fiedra, that would be an insult. No doubt, Fiedra would have expected Torunn to rave on about how fabulous she was, but Torunn didn't really talk about any of the people at court.
Another moment of harsh disapproval and Fiedra relented. "Lady Vaultier."
Ashra tried to make herself look pleasantly surprised. That was a name she’d heard of, not that Ashra was entirely surprised. Mostly, this introduction made her suspicious of what Fiedra wanted. "It is lovely to see you," Ashra finally said. "That is an absolutely amazing gown." A compliment might be the best way of diffusing this situation.
Fiedra's eyes traveled down Ashra's gown again, the look of boredom clear on her face. She wasn't bored though; she was curious, or she wouldn't have taken the trouble of stepping in Ashra's way. Her eyes shifted to Tabain, an expression of disgust ghosting over her face before she cleared it away. "And young Master Greve." Why in the world would Fiedra give such an expression? Ashra wondered, as if Tabain had personally done something to offend her.
Her gaze moved back to Ashra as if she dismissed a pile of dung from her consciousness. Then she smiled broadly. "We are so pleased you have decided to join us."
"Yes, you can imagine how pleased I was to receive the invitation," Ashra said with an equally fake cheerfulness.
"Although I am sure this would all be easier on you if Torunn had had the foresight to prepare you. Silly of him really, but I suppose he wanted to… spare you from having to travel so far." Fiedra smiled widely, her expectation clear—that Torunn had been too embarrassed to present her at court. "It must be difficult coming here not knowing your way, how to behave or even what is expected from you." Fiedra's perceptiveness was disconcerting, as if she knew exactly how confronting this all was for Ashra. "I would, of course, be happy to advise you, if there is anything you wish to know. You have only to ask."
Dark Court: The Summons Page 2