“I think, my lady, that if the queen and her beloved wish to spend the night together, between the two of them they can work out how to turn down the sheets.”
Dorra glared at Jacinta. “Perhaps, when you’ve been at court a little longer, you will learn that some things can never be private, my lady. The sleeping arrangements of the queen is one of them.”
“Then we must deal with the matter discreetly, my lady, not ask about it as if we’re farmers checking to see if the bull is in the mating paddock.”
“What do you suggest, my lady?”
“I suggest, my lady, that neither you nor I should concern ourselves with such matters. Perhaps the Lady Marqel would be so kind as to keep an eye on things? She is Prince Kirshov’s spiritual adviser, is she not? I’m sure she’d be happy to inform us if she feels there is anything to be concerned about.”
“More than happy,” Marqel agreed willingly.
Alenor thought she’d burst from trying to hold in her laughter.
Faced with Jacinta’s logic and Marqel’s support, there was little Dorra could do.
“As you wish,” she muttered, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Jacinta sighed heavily. “Oh dear, I think I’ve upset her. Would you follow her, Marqel, and see that’s she’s not too distraught?”
Having just been made responsible for reporting Kirsh’s sleeping habits, which mostly involved visiting Marqel’s room, the Shadowdancer was positively gloating over the prospect. And she was obviously feeling very kindly disposed toward Jacinta.
“Of course, my lady.”
Marqel bowed and left the room after Dorra. Jacinta turned to Alenor with a grin.
“Well, that’s taken care of that awkward little situation, don’t you think?”
“Oh, Jacinta!” she laughed. “You’re terrible! How could you do that?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice perfecting righteous indignation,” she said. “Every time my mother trotted out a new hopeful, actually. But don’t get too comfortable with the arrangement. Sooner or later, somebody’s going to start asking questions, Allie. Particularly when you fail to produce an heir.”
“I’ll deal with that when they do,” she shrugged, her amusement fading in the face of the harsh reality of her situation.
“Well, I suppose we can think of something by then,” Jacinta said, coming to sit on the couch beside her. “I admire your bravery, though.”
“What bravery?”
“Putting up with Marqel in your entourage. If it was up to me, I’d slap that little Shadowslut into the middle of next week.”
“You mustn’t call her that!”
“Why not? It’s what she is. It’s what they all are.”
“I know. But the High Priestess is staying here in the palace. If she heard you saying that, you’d be ...”
“A lot sillier than I look,” Jacinta finished for her with a smile. “Don’t worry, Allie. I can bow and scrape and say my prayers to the Goddess with the best of them. Better than a lot of them, probably. I’ve actually read the Book of Ranadon.”
Chapter 53
The High Priestess waited for several days after Antonov left Kalarada before she sent a request to the new regent for an audience. She wanted to give him time to settle into his new role as both ruler and husband. Not that Kirsh was required to do much in either role. He was a figurehead almost as powerless as his new wife. Antonov had arranged it so that there was little damage either of them could do, while giving the impression to the rest of Dhevyn that they were doing something useful.
Belagren thought Antonov was making a big mistake with Kirshov. The boy was not nearly so easily controlled as Antonov believed, nor so dedicated to his father’s cause as the Lion of Senet imagined. Belagren had watched Kirsh grow up, and she knew, even better than his father, that he wanted to leave his own mark on the world, and that fulfilling his father’s dreams of global conquest was not actually the way he planned to do it. She understood what it was like for him to be the son of a man as powerful as Antonov, particularly a second son, whose role was essentially that of a spare heir.
She also suspected that Kirshov Latanya was not nearly as keen as his father to see Dirk Provin caught and brought back to Avacas.
There were two reasons for this that she knew of. The first was his friendship with Dirk, which Belagren suspected still lingered in the back of Kirsh’s mind and made him reluctant to wish ill on his old companion. The other reason was simple jealousy. Antonov was quite infatuated with the idea that he could turn Johan Thorn’s bastard into his disciple; that he could place the true heir of Dhevyn on the throne, confident in the knowledge that the boy belonged to him, body and soul.
That was never going to happen, of course and, after Dirk burned the Calliope, even Antonov’s patience was starting to fray. But while Antonov harbored his fantasy, Kirshov grew increasingly reluctant about the idea. In truth, Belagren did not blame him. Antonov’s plan had room for only one king of Dhevyn, and to place Dirk on the throne would mean unseating Kirshov.
It was typical of Antonov that he would so blindly believe in his son’s loyalty that he would imagine he could attempt such a thing without considering that there might be adverse consequences.
To her mind, the Lion of Senet had misjudged his son quite badly; however, as it suited her own purposes at the moment, she did not point it out to him. Right now, Antonov’s obsession with Dirk Provin had placed Kirsh right where she wanted him, and she intended to make full use of it. The High Priestess’s only concern was securing the future for herself and her Church. She actually didn’t give two figs about the next King of Dhevyn. She didn’t care if he was a Latanya or the son of some goatherd they picked at random off the streets.
Madalan announced Kirsh a few minutes earlier than their arranged time, which was a good sign. Perhaps the boy needed someone to talk to. She amended the thought as Kirsh crossed the room and bowed politely. He was a boy no longer. He was a man, and Antonov should remember that if he expected to control him.
“I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you by arriving early, my lady.”
“Of course not, Kirsh,” she assured him, indicating that he could sit. “I’m actually flattered that you chose to visit me. Now that you’re regent, I suppose, by rights, I should have come to you.”
Kirsh rolled his eyes. “I was glad of the excuse to escape, actually. Do you think the Dhevynians are plotting to destroy me by smothering me with trivia?”
Belagren smiled. “I wouldn’t discount the possibility. How’s Alenor dealing with it all?”
“Like a little trouper,” he remarked sourly. “She’s loving every minute of it. The more trivial and idiotic the problem the better for her. She’s got a new playmate, too. Her cousin, Jacinta D’Orlon.”
“Of Bryton?”
Kirsh nodded. “There’s a woman I’d like to see roasting on a Landfall fire. She pokes her nose into everything.”
“I hear Jacinta D’Orlon refused a very generous offer from Lord Birkoff recently.”
“Then Birkoff should consider himself a lucky man.”
Belagren smiled sympathetically. “Well, Alenor doesn’t have many close friends. You must allow her some.”
“She can have all the friends she wants,” Kirsh shrugged. “It’s overeducated, opinionated, condescending relations that I have a problem with. Her mother is just as bad. Rainan questions every decision I make. For someone who’s supposed to be retired, she’s awfully nosy about what’s going on.”
“It must be difficult for her,” Belagren agreed. “Would you like some tea?” She poured him a cup without waiting for him to answer.
“Well, if she doesn’t get off my back, she’ll find herself banished to the other side of the island to enjoy her retirement out of my way,” he warned, accepting the tea from her. Belagren smiled. Oh, Anton, how foolish you are not to realize the potential in your own son. You should forget Dirk and concentrate on Kirsh.
“Has it been any easier since your father returned to Avacas?” she inquired as she poured a cup for herself. She was not really thirsty, but she knew well the value of the mundane social niceties. They smoothed the way for much more important things, and gave the whole meeting an air of cozy familiarity.
Kirsh shrugged and sipped his tea. “It’s just one less person looking over my shoulder. And it’s not as if I can actually do anything, like declare war on Sidoria or something equally absurd. There are so many aides and secretaries running around the palace, I could disappear for a month, and I doubt anyone would notice that I was missing.”
She smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you?”
“Disappear for a month? Don’t tempt me.”
Belagren put down her teacup and clasped her hands in her lap. She studied him closely for a moment. “Suppose I asked you to do something for me, Kirshov? Something that would require you to leave Kalarada for a while? Would you do it?”
Kirsh’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I might. It would depend on what it was that you wanted me to do.”
“What I want, Kirsh,” she said, watching him carefully, “is for you to go and get Dirk Provin for me.”
Kirsh stared at her silently. Warily. She was going to have to explain this very carefully if she wanted to keep him on her side.
“About a month ago, I received a letter from Dirk,” she continued. “In it, he expressed his desire to return to Avacas, but not in the role your father has in mind for him. He wants to join the Shadowdancers.”
“Why?”
“I think he’s sick of being on the run. The death of his mother has affected him badly, and he now fears for his brother and his brother’s wife. I believe he’s afraid Antonov will continue to destroy those closest to him unless he is convinced Dirk is out of his reach. You know as well as I that Dirk wants no part of your father’s plans to elevate him to the throne of Dhevyn. The Shadowdancers offer him the only chance he has of avoiding that fate. And your father, of all people, cannot deny him the opportunity to serve the Goddess.”
“It doesn’t sound like Dirk,” Kirsh said doubtfully.
“It’s been more than two years since you saw him last, Kirsh. He’s had a price on his head, he’s been hunted and pursued, and his mother has been executed. You’ve no way of telling how that has influenced his thinking.”
“But why me?” Kirsh asked, still not convinced. “If you know where he is, why not just send a detail to collect him? For that matter, why doesn’t he just surrender himself?”
She smiled understandingly. “Dirk is distrustful of all things Senetian, Kirshov, particularly since he burned your father’s ship. In his letter, he specifically asked that you come for him. Perhaps he feels he can trust you not to run a sword through him at first sight.”
“Then he’s wrong,” Kirsh snarled. “After what he did to Marqel, I’d just as soon see him dead.”
Belagren frowned. Damn that girl. “Kirshov, while I do not for a moment condone what he did to my Shadowdancer, I feel Marqel may hold some responsibility in the matter. She did drug him with the Milk of the Goddess, after all.”
The prince didn’t look happy to be reminded of that. “That doesn’t excuse what he did.”
“No, but neither does it warrant killing him, my dear. If anything, Dirk’s worst crime is showing a distinct lack of good judgment in his dealings with Marqel.” She raised a brow in his direction. “A sin the casual observer might consider you guilty of also.”
He seemed neither surprised nor concerned that Belagren knew of his affair with Marqel. “He murdered Johan Thorn. Have you forgiven him that, too?”
I was right. This boy really does have a good head on his shoulders when he decides to use it. “The Goddess believes in true repentance, Kirshov, otherwise we would all be denied her blessing. Help me apprehend Dirk and if I discover that he’s lied to us, trust me, even your father won’t be able to devise a punishment more terrible than my wrath. But if he’s genuine in his desire to seek sanctuary in the arms of the Goddess, if he truly means it when he says that he wishes nothing more than to spend the rest of his life in study and prayer, then I can do no less than provide him with the opportunity.”
Kirsh thought about it for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “Where is he?”
“Omaxin. I believe he wanted to do some soul searching in that most holy of shrines before taking up service with the Goddess. He’s waiting for us there.”
“When did you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible. I will arrange an escort of my own people to meet us in Paislee. For obvious reasons, I wish to involve neither the Queen’s Guard nor your father until we have ascertained how genuine Dirk is in his desire to embrace the Goddess.”
“My father knows nothing about this?”
She shook her head. “I thought it wiser not to involve him at this stage. He will be ... disappointed ... when he learns that Dirk wishes to take up service with the Goddess rather than him.”
“Are you sure it’s wise not to inform him? He’ll be furious when he finds out that you knew where Dirk was and said nothing to him. He won’t be too thrilled with me for aiding you, either.”
Belagren met Kirsh’s eye evenly. This was the moment she would find out how well she had judged this young man.
“Do you intend to wait on your father’s pleasure for the rest of your days, Kirshov? Is every move you make as Regent of Dhevyn going to be dictated by your father?”
Kirsh hesitated before answering, and then he shook his head. “No.”
“Then you’ll aid me in this?”
“Gladly, my lady.”
“Thank you, Kirshov,” she replied, graciously. “I was certain that I could count on you. More tea?”
Chapter 54
News that Kirsh was leaving Kalarada with the High Priestess for some undisclosed destination reached Alenor through her Senetian lady-in-waiting. Dorra inadvertently let it slip while Jacinta was fixing Alenor’s hair only hours before he was due to depart. It concerned her greatly that Kirsh could make such travel arrangements without her knowledge. It was testament to how little she was actually involved in governing her own country.
Alenor confronted Kirsh in his rooms as he was dressing. She barged in without knocking and stood before him, her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing. Kirsh took one look at her and ordered his manservant from the room.
“So, were you actually planning to tell me that you were leaving?” she asked as soon as they were alone. “Or was I supposed to just notice that you were missing from the dinner table this evening?”
He met her anger calmly. “Well, you’d hardly notice I was missing from your bed, would you?”
His reply shocked her. It was unlike Kirsh to be so blunt. Or so cruel. “Is that why you’re going away? Because I wounded your pride?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m assisting the High Priestess with something very important.”
“And the Goddess knows what the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers wants is far more important than you staying here to govern the nation you so recently accepted as your regency,” she remarked scathingly.
“Dhevyn doesn’t need me, Alenor,” he shrugged. “You know it as well as I do. Neither of us has any real power.”
“And so you think that justifies you abandoning your position to go chasing off to Goddess-knows-where with Belagren?”
“I might as well be doing something useful. I’m not needed here.” He looked at her pointedly. “Not for anything.”
“Is Marqel going with you?”
“Yes.”
His admission hurt Alenor more than she thought it would. He doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. That she only had herself to blame for the current state of affairs did little to console her.
“And what is to happen to Dhevyn in your absence?”
“I’ve made arrangements. Dhevyn will continue to function quite smoothly without me. And I
can be contacted through the Shadowdancers in Avacas in the unlikely event that anything important happens while I’m gone.”
“Does your father know about this?”
Kirsh frowned. “I am Regent of Dhevyn, Alenor. I am not answerable to my father.”
She laughed bitterly. “That’s got to be the most optimistic statement I’ve ever heard!” When Kirsh did not respond Alenor shook her head in amazement. “Goddess! You haven’t told him, have you? He’ll be furious when he finds out.”
“It’s not your place to tell him, Alenor. I will deal with my father. You need do nothing more than stay here in Kalarada and enjoy yourself. Your kingdom will continue to be administered efficiently by my people while I’m gone. Take the opportunity to relax a little. Go riding with the guard more often. You have been a little overwrought of late.”
“Don’t you dare treat me like a child!”
“You are a child,” he reminded her harshly. “A fact you proved the day we married. And might I remind you that you will remain a child until your eighteenth birthday. Until that time, you won’t question me, or interfere with how I choose to govern Dhevyn. Is that clear?”
The change in him took her by surprise. It was Belagren’s influence, no doubt. He would never have dared defy his father like this without the High Priestess supporting him.
“Where are you going?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“How long will you be away?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What am I supposed to tell people?”
“Whatever you want.”
She wanted to scream at him in frustration. “You can’t just up and leave like this, Kirsh!”
“Actually, Alenor, I can. And now, if you don’t mind, I have to finish getting ready.” He turned his back on her and walked back into his dressing room. When he emerged a few moments later, he was shrugging on his jacket. He looked up, and seemed surprised to find her still standing there. His eyes were cold. “Was there anything else?”
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