The Diplomat

by French, Sophia

  Rema tried to steady her thoughts. Her body throbbed with the day’s exertions. If she didn’t take the opportunity to rest for a few more hours, she’d be incapable of doing anything by the time midnight arrived. According to the large, dirty clock that hung in the kitchen, it was eight hours past noon—maybe. An accurate sense of time was among the many things she missed about the imperial palace, the halls of which breathed with the ticking of precise clocks crafted by the Arann’s finest tinkers.

  Upon returning to her chamber, she froze, her chest constricting. Elise was sitting at the end of the bed with a bundle in her lap. “Don’t just stand there staring at me,” she said. “It’s your room. Come in.”

  Rema closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed and scrutinized Elise, whose clear expression suggested no signs of sulking. “I’ve brought you some more medicine,” said Elise as she raised a little bottle from the bedside table. “To ease your pain and soothe your head. I also brought you back this wreck of a coat. I was touched to see you were carrying my most recent letter in your pocket.”

  “It’s not a very happy letter. And yes, I did feel something reading it.”

  “But you won’t admit what that feeling was.” Elise sidled closer. “You’re so coy. What are you afraid of?”

  “If Ormun learns we might be more than friends, then we’d both have plenty to fear.”

  “Rema, dearest! Was that a confession?”

  “You have an overactive imagination.” Rema rested her fingertips lightly on Elise’s knee. “Elsie, I have to ask you not to sleep in your tower tonight. It’s better if you don’t know why.”

  “Tell me it’s because you want me to sleep here with you instead.”

  Rema laughed. Even this short time in Elise’s presence had lifted her spirits and chased the shadows from her soul. “There’s that imagination again.”

  Elise pursed her lips. “I suppose this is something to do with Calan. Well, it’s about time I became accustomed to not sleeping in my tower. Fine.” She waved the bottle. “Come on, drink your medicine.”

  Rema took the bottle, uncorked it and sipped it dry. The warmth drifted through her body and dissolved the pain. “That helped.”

  “Of course it helped. I’m very good at healing. And other things.” Elise’s smile radiated mischief. “So, when do you plan on dragging me away?”

  “The ship that brought me here should still be around for another three days. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get aid to your people.”

  “I have so many belongings up in my tower. Books and other things priceless to me. What will become of them?”

  “We’ll take it all. Anything that doesn’t fit, you can put in my cabin.”

  “Your cabin? Can’t we share a cabin?”

  “The sailors would gossip, and in Arann gossip has a habit of spreading all the way to the palace itself.”

  “So, let me get this clear. You do want to share a cabin with me, but you won’t because you’re afraid of getting caught?”

  Rema smiled. “I’m not saying anything. You’re the one talking about cabins when I’m trying to keep our attention on serious matters.”

  “Very well! You win, wily diplomat. I won’t sleep in my tower. But tell me the truth, are you putting yourself at risk for me again?”

  “I always put myself at risk. It’s part of my job.”

  “Rema.” Elise shifted closer still. “Loric told me about the night you spent in my stairwell. He couldn’t understand how you could do that for me yet still take me away to Arann.”

  Rema tried to meet Elise’s eyes, but an uncooperative force drew her gaze instead to the seductive curves of Elise’s mouth. “He no doubt exaggerated. I was only on the stairs for an hour or so. I didn’t sleep there.”

  “You’re such a liar.” Elise hesitated, and her cheeks flared red. “What else have you done for me that I don’t know about? Be honest. Do you love me?”

  “I really should rest.” Rema looked away, her heart hammering a disorderly beat. “I’m wounded, as you know, and I have some business to attend to later.”

  Elise sighed. “If you want me, you’d better say so before it’s too late.” She stood and brushed several fallen hairs from the bed. “I fear you’re so used to playing games that you’ve lost sight of what you’re gambling with. Our hearts are entirely alike in conviction, both committed to righteousness and compassion. It’s only proper they be together.”

  Rema chewed on her lower lip, not daring to respond. Elise paused in the doorway, a hand on her hip. “I love you, and I want you to be careful tonight.”

  “I will be.” A memory jolted Rema from her longing reverie. “By the way, did you make that prisoner unable to talk?”

  Elise gave a deep, satisfied laugh. “If you’re going to keep secrets from me, I’m going to keep secrets from you.” She left the room, drawing the door shut behind her. Rema stretched on her side, closed her eyes and inhaled the lingering sensuality of Elise’s perfume.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rema was woken by a low, insistent tapping. She brushed the hair away from her eyes before opening the door. Muhan was waiting in the corridor with a lamp. His face was tense, and his eyes were black under the lamplight. Cedrin stood behind him. Despite his bulk, he seemed somehow diminished, and he played nervously with a gold ring on his finger.

  “Your Grace,” Rema said. “Muhan. Did Yorin explain why I called for you?”

  Cedrin nodded, still turning the ring. “I can’t quite believe it. Why would my boy plan something like this?”

  “You know why. He doesn’t want this war to end, and once word of our agreement reaches Lyorn, they may concede even before the first ship lands on your shores. He has no time to act but now.”

  “If you are correct, you have saved my kingdom twice over.” Cedrin squared his shoulders and frowned at her, a shade of defiance returning to his eyes. “If you are not, then I will expect you to leave and not return here again.”

  “I understand. Muhan, I suppose you know what I need you to do.”

  “Juggle?” said Muhan, his teeth tinted by the lamplight.

  Rema joined the men in the corridor. “Let’s not waste any time.” They walked through the hall and into the front court, where the night had transformed the familiar space into something foreboding. Silver luminescence lit the walls, and thin fingers of shadow lay between the benches and the flagstones. The shimmering pall of moonlight recalled Elise’s eyes, and Rema permitted herself a smile. Nowadays, everything reminded her of Elise.

  The trio ascended to the palace’s top floor, Rema and Muhan treading lightly and Cedrin struggling behind them. Darkness enveloped the hallways, a gloom pierced rarely by the weak sputtering of a torch. After several minutes of travel, Muhan’s lamplight caught a familiar archway, and the group stopped before the stairwell to Elise’s tower.

  Rema climbed first, her fingers brushing against the curved stone wall. Cedrin wheezed from the effort, and he exhaled in relief as they reached the top. Rema opened the unlocked door and ushered them through. Starlight shone over the arcane clutter of Elise’s room.

  “Your Grace, if you would seat yourself in the corner,” Rema said, closing the door behind them. The chair was in a pool of darkness, and when Cedrin settled himself on it, only someone looking closely could detect the way the shadows bent against his large body.

  Rema turned to Muhan, whose colorful robes were washed pale by the silver light. “Muhan, if you stand beside the door, you’ll be in a perfect position to surprise Calan.” Muhan nodded as he stood sentinel. His tall, lean body was a reassuring presence. Contemptible worm or not, Calan was a physically daunting man, and this little adventure carried real dangers.

  Rema pulled back Elise’s blankets. “And I will take my place in the bed.”

  “You’re using yourself as bait?” said Muhan. “Dear daughter of traders, are you afraid of nothing?”

  “I’m afraid of only one man, and h
e’s in Arann.” Rema lay on the bed and drew the blanket over her face. The mattress was cool, and Elise’s fragrance permeated the sheets. Rema took a deep breath to dissolve her tension before pressing her cheek to the pillow. Elise had promised to spend the night in one of the guest chambers, and it was a pleasant distraction to imagine her sitting awake, wondering what was taking place in her tower.

  Rema waited for so long—entertaining herself with thoughts of Elise—that she might have fallen asleep if not for the anxiety clawing up the sides of her stomach. The stretch of time became immeasurable in the darkness, and visions formed and fell apart in the recesses of her mind. Finally the door opened, and a heavy step was followed by another. Her skin crawled—a dagger might be seconds from her heart.

  She rose, casting off the blankets. Calan stood poised in the incriminating light of the moon. He held not a dagger but a shortsword, and his face was pale against the black of his tunic. His look of lethal composure slipped, and his mouth fell open. “You?”

  “So it’s true,” said Cedrin. Calan started, and he looked about the room before locking his eyes on the shadowed form of the king. “Why are you doing this, son?”

  “Why?” Calan laughed with an edge of hysteria. “Where do I begin? This is the kingdom I am intended to inherit, and by the time it passes to me it will be little more than a whipped dog. If we do not revenge ourselves on Lyorn, rip their lands asunder and take their wealth, then we will remain weak, backward, impotent!”

  Calan brandished his sword at Rema. “This bitch knows I’m right. To her, Danosha is a joke. She sees us as provincial, unimaginative swineherds, happy to rule a pit of mud until the end of our days. A traitor you may think me now, Father, but like you, I want to improve the lot of our people. With the wealth and lands of Lyorn, we could improve the towns, enrich our farms and open up new ports of trade. The great powers would finally take us seriously. No longer would diplomats like her laugh at us as if we were still children building towers with rocks.”

  A strident plea entered his voice. “Father, listen. This woman intends to neuter us. Ormun isn’t offering us anything but irrelevance. The terms you signed talk of parity between us and Lyorn, as if there were only our two nations in this world and not a host of other enemies already swelling in size and power! If we let Ormun hobble us, we will fall prey to Dantium, Kalanis, perhaps even the Empire of the Pale Plains itself.” His voice grew steadier. “Think to our legacy. I chose to act as I did because I believed, yes, truly believed, that you were not ruling in the interests of the kingdom. Your death would have brought me no pleasure, but once it became clear you had ignored my counsel, I could see no other way. You would have died for Danosha.”

  An impressive speech, wasted in the service of savagery. “Perhaps you would have lamented killing your father and mother, though I doubt it,” said Rema. “But Elise—I’ve no doubt you would have relished her murder. You imagined you’d finally triumph over the woman who has never shown you the fear and submission you crave. Instead, here you stand, bested utterly by the sex you so despise.”

  Calan steadied the shortsword. “My consolation in the grave will be that I took you with me.”

  Before Calan could move more than a step, Muhan lunged from concealment and caught him around the waist. As Calan grunted and struggled, Muhan turned his narrow shoulders, and they both spiraled to the ground, Calan landing with Muhan’s knee pressed into his stomach.

  “She will live a thousand years while you will die the death of traitors,” said Muhan as he gripped Calan’s arm and forced it behind his head. “Rema, he cannot move now until I choose to let him.”

  Rema stood above Calan. As he struggled, his eyes twitched, and his muscles worked in pointless exertion. She could taunt him with impunity now, but what was the point? “I believe we should fetch the guards.”

  “No need.” Yorin entered the room with two colossal guardsmen behind him. “Don’t look so startled. I had Calan trailed, and when I knew that he was in the tower I brought the guards with me.”

  Did this irrepressible steward have to be involved in everything? “Yorin, really! I told you to let me take care of it.”

  “Don’t be petulant, now.” Yorin frowned at Calan, who turned his head away. “So it’s true. It wasn’t enough that you couldn’t give your sister a moment’s peace throughout her poor life. You aspired to kill her too. I should have smothered you in the cradle, you venomous, detestable, loathsome—”

  “Yorin,” said Cedrin, and Yorin’s brows jumped.

  “Your Grace.” Yorin bowed with haste. “I didn’t see you there. Forgive me.”

  “Please have your guardsmen escort Calan to the cells. Talitha and I will need much time to decide what is to be done.”

  Yorin gestured to the guards. “You heard the King! Take Prince Calan to his new quarters. Don’t bother dusting them this time.”

  Muhan yanked Calan to his feet—Calan’s face contorted with the ache of constrained violence, but he seemed unable to break free—before shoving him to the guards. They took him by either arm and dragged him toward the door.

  As he was forced into the stairwell, Calan held his gaze on Rema. “Enjoy fucking my sister from here to Arann. There’s a death sentence over both of our heads.” As the sound of his boots scraping down the stairs faded, Rema shivered. Rarely were parting words so frighteningly true.

  “Forgive Calan his vulgarities,” said Cedrin. “I must go now and tell Talitha what has transpired. It will be a shock to her, as if she had lost two children in one night.” Weariness clouded his eyes. “We owe you a great debt.”

  “Not so,” said Rema. “I’ve stolen Elise from you. No act can compensate for such a loss.”

  “I was dubious when I first saw you.” Cedrin struggled to his feet. “A female diplomat was well beyond my understanding. Now I begin to see the error of my thinking. Please take care of my daughter. She is difficult and audacious.”

  “Those are strengths, Your Grace.” Rema’s power returned as she spoke, for the first time, in open defense of the woman she secretly loved. “Your daughter is one of the finest women I’ve ever met. Her courage has moved and inspired me. Her words of indignation are like a fire amid the snow. You should have nothing but pride in her.”

  “I never was an easy father.” Cedrin crossed to the window and stared into the night. “I judged her as wicked. I ignored her pleas to remain unmarried. I knew she was suffering, but I told myself that it was only proper, given her crimes against nature. Now the sound of her laughter will no longer ring through my palace. I will never again pass by her pouting on the stairs, nor find her sporting with Loric in the gardens, nor watch the light play across her hair as she tends to the soreness of my heels. And I cannot even pray to our God to help her, for he despises her kind.” He inhaled deeply, and his old body shivered. “I will carry this shame to my death. I put my faith in my son instead of my daughter, and he has betrayed me as I betrayed her.” He shuffled from the room, and his heavy tread echoed in the stairwell.

  Yorin collapsed into the nearest chair. “Tell me that’s the last of it. These have been the most stressful days of my life. And that includes the week the palace was overrun by beetles.”

  Rema sat on the edge of the mattress. Cedrin’s parting words had left her melancholy, and it was impossible to feel any triumph. “So much has happened in such a short space of time. It feels as if I only arrived this morning.”

  “Ah, well.” Muhan pulled his mustache to its full length. “It’s like the steam beneath a pot lid. It builds slowly, but when it reaches its limit, how suddenly it bursts.” He released his mustache so that it flicked back into its curl. “In any event, I’m pleased to have played my small part in this performance.”

  “You should both stay a day or two more,” said Yorin. “You deserve to rest at least a little. You’d make an excellent steward, Rema. You’ve endured so much, yet you’ve remained in control throughout.”

  “We’ll
need to stay tomorrow at least, to pack Elise’s belongings,” said Rema. “I want to her to be able to take as many of her possessions as possible.”

  “That can be arranged.” Yorin gazed at the moon, which hung full and pensive beyond the tower’s wide window. “It’s the paperwork I’m dreading.”

  “As soon as Domyr reaches home, Lyorn will know their victory is lost. Your son will be home sooner than you expect.”

  Yorin seemed a decade younger as he smiled. “Perhaps I’ll celebrate your visit by permitting the servant women to wear trousers. Alys will be delighted. She thinks I don’t know she’s been stealing them and trying them on.”

  “As for myself,” said Muhan. “It’s been some time since I visited Arann, and there are far worse places to sell dye.”

  Delight drove away some of Rema’s malaise. “You’ll come with us? Your company would be very welcome.” Not least because of the corrupt presence of that other companion she had agreed to bring with her. She imagined Bannon skulking aboard ship, smirking at her with his fishlike eyes. Could even Muhan subdue a man who seemed so sure on his feet?

  “Well,” said Yorin as he stood. “I’m going to catch my precious few hours of sleep.”

  “So you do sleep. I’d been wondering.”

  As Yorin and Muhan descended the stairs of the tower, Rema paused in the doorway and looked back into the pale emptiness of Elise’s bedroom. This had been Elise’s home and sanctuary for much of her life, a world that she had fought to build and keep. Now she had resigned herself to losing it, and all for a covert understanding between them, a promise concealed in poetry. Though Elise’s future seemed grim, Rema would remain by her side, loving her and sustaining her through the darkness of her sorrow.

  Part Two

  Chapter Sixteen