The Unwilling

by KELLY BRAFFET

  Gavin felt Judah’s presence, looked up and grinned; with a few words to the courtier and a slight incline of his head—her opal-frosted cheeks pinked at the honor—he came to Judah, and took her arm in his. Which would also have been an honor, had she been anyone else. Judah knew that was why he’d done it. She also knew that nobody else noticed how careful he’d been not to let his bare skin touch hers. The spun-sugar courtier’s blue rosette eyes watched, her mouth curled; one delicate hand touched the beetle in her hair and Judah remembered Firo’s words, and the Seneschal’s. I’m here, among the spiders, keeping track of the webs. They will eat you alive.

  “You,” Gavin said, as they walked toward the door, “smell ever so faintly of cavalry.”

  She’d spent the morning in the pasture with Darid, hunting milkscorn and low ivy, both of which gave horses colic. “And you absolutely reek of courtier. Was that Lady Amie?”

  They entered the hall outside the solarium just in time to see a courtier in green silk grab his page by the ear and deliver two swift kicks to the boy’s leg. The page, his arms full of paper-wrapped bundles (clothes from the laundry, probably), didn’t even try to dodge the sharp toes of the courtier’s shoes. “On your way, lord courtier,” Gavin said, and the courtier—eyes widening with shock and consternation—mumbled something servile and dragged the page into the nearest hallway. Where, Judah didn’t doubt, he’d resume kicking the boy as soon as he was out of sight. Gavin turned to Judah. “Did you want something?”

  “Theron got a note from Elban today,” she said.

  His shoulders stiffened slightly, but when he spoke his voice was oddly calm. “What’s it say?”

  “No idea. He’s been in his workshop all day and hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

  Judah stared at him. “Really. After twenty years of completely ignoring Theron’s existence, you think Elban just wrote to say hello?”

  “The witchbred foundling’s been seen strolling on the Promenade with Firo of Cerrington. Clearly, anything is possible.” He spoke with unaccustomed sharpness. “What does he want from you, anyway?”

  Thoroughly annoyed, Judah said, “Marriage, probably. No doubt he’s madly in love with me.”

  “Not bloody likely.” Then he saw her face, and had the decency to wince. “Come on, Jude. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re not Firo’s type, that’s all.” He reached one hand out, as if to touch her shoulder, but then let it drop. His face softened with a sympathy that surprised her as much as the sharpness had. “I’m just making this worse, aren’t I? The Seneschal told me about his meeting with you. I’m sorry. I know you like to cross him whenever possible, but...the courtiers... You have to be careful, Jude.” Again, his hand reached out. Again, it dropped. “I don’t like them talking about you.”

  Judah found the possessiveness in his voice distasteful. “They talk about me, anyway. What about the note?”

  He drew himself up, his eyes sliding away. “What about it? I get three a week.”

  “Theron doesn’t.”

  “Maybe that’s changing.”

  He sounded normal, but Judah sensed something strange from him, something slithery and uncomfortable. She reached for his hand to get a clearer picture—but just before her fingers touched his bare skin, he stepped away. “I have to go,” he said. “Theron will be fine. I’ll see you later.”

  * * *

  Out of all of them, Gavin seemed to chafe the most at life in the shabby parlor. And why wouldn’t he, since what waited for him outside of it was so much grander than anything the others could expect? Only Gavin would ever see a wider world. Only Gavin would lay eyes on the ocean, the steppes, the icy peaks of the Barriers; only he would ever travel outside the Wall, ride through the city on a warhorse like his father or travel the provinces with an army at his back. (Judah didn’t expect Theron to ever command that army; she didn’t think the army would accept him. Gavin had promised to guild him, which was a less horrible prospect for thoughtful, isolated Theron than it was for Judah.) He claimed that spending time with the courtiers was merely an obligation, but Judah could feel the prickling restlessness that drove him to the salons and retiring rooms. He’d come back drunk and happy, or drunk and impatient, or just drunk. If Elly was awake, he’d throw himself at her feet, making wild, embarrassing proclamations of devotion. If Elly was asleep, he would scratch at Judah until she came to find him. She was usually awake, anyway; when he drank, her head spun, too, whether she liked it or not. (She felt other sensations, too, when Gavin was with the courtiers; sensations she was fairly sure Gavin would not want spoken of to Elly, so she spoke of them to nobody. Not even Gavin himself.)

  Other nights came the summonses. Then, as soon as dinner was over, Gavin would put on a clean shirt, oil his boots, and go to Elban’s study. “What does he want?” Elly asked once, and with a carefree smile Gavin said, “To bore me to death, so he can stay in power forever.” But Judah could feel how it truly was in the anxious knots in his muscles. She waited up for him, those nights, long after the others had gone to sleep. He never wanted to talk after, but he was always glad to see her. She could feel that, too.

  Direct skin contact between them felt like setting two mirrors facing each other, every sensation reflecting and doubling endlessly. It could be overwhelming, even frightening, so they rarely touched. But after spending an evening with Elban, Gavin would drop his head to her shoulder, and she would lean her cheek against the soft flax of his hair. Waves of anger and revulsion would sweep over her from him. She would do what she always did when he was upset: close her eyes and think fixedly of water. Of the aquifer beneath the House, very deep and very old, hollowed out over eons by the gentle friction of liquid on bedrock. The earthy smell of wet stone, the lap of water so faint it was almost silence. She held that water in her head, let it wash over him to soothe the twisted feelings inside him. She asked no questions. She didn’t want to know.

  Theron found the letter when he came down for dinner. As he unfolded the thick paper, Judah watched with barely-suppressed anxiety. Despite what Gavin had said, she didn’t like the letter. She didn’t like the way Theron’s eyebrows had shot up when he’d seen it, she didn’t like the way Gavin felt after spending time with his father, and she hadn’t liked the slithery feeling she’d sensed in him outside the solarium. She liked even less that Gavin knew about his brother’s letter and still hadn’t bothered to join them back in the parlor for dinner. Elly spread butter on a roll, humming; she’d made of herself a bright, glassy lake that not even the strongest wind could ruffle, but Judah could see the worry under the brightness.

  As he read, one side of Theron’s upper lip curled, the way it always did when he was puzzled. “He wants me to go hunting,” he said. “This weekend, in the western woods. They’re bringing in deer.”

  The words hung in the air. Neither Judah nor Elly knew quite what to do with them. It was Elly who said, finally, “Do you want to go?”

  Carefully, Theron put the letter down on the table. “I don’t really think I have a choice, when it comes right down to it. But the bow’s the only weapon I’m not completely useless with. Maybe he heard about that.” His eyes, behind his glasses, were wide and almost...hopeful. Theron was so thin and nervous that he seemed younger than his years. They coddled him, the three of them, which annoyed him, but meant he’d never lacked for affection. It had never occurred to Judah that his father’s disinterest might bother him. “Elban’s never wanted anything to do with me before,” he said now, and the words were tinted with a fascination that worried Judah and scared her.

  Where are you, she scratched to Gavin.

  Home soon, he scratched back. An hour later, she began to feel the first swirling lurches of drunkenness. Liar, she scratched to him in angry red lines. She didn’t expect a response, and she didn’t receive one.

  * * *

/>   “I don’t like this,” Elly said the next morning.

  There was porridge for breakfast, lumpy and not as hot as it should have been, and Judah’s stomach, sour with Gavin’s hangover, liked its smell no better than its looks. She lay on the sofa with her eyes closed. Through the open terrace door she could hear the dull thok, thok of practice arrows hitting the straw target Theron had set up; she’d woken to the sound and it had been chasing her ever since. Each thok made her wince, not just in her sore head but in every muscle of her body. There was no sign of Gavin. His bed hadn’t been slept in. Nobody mentioned it.

  “Elban’s never been interested in Theron,” Elly went on. “He has no reason to be interested in Theron. And now suddenly he wants to take him hunting? With courtiers?”

  Thok. Thok. Judah threw an arm over her eyes. “Elban’s insane.”

  “Maybe, but he doesn’t do pointless things.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “You don’t have anything else to say?” Elly sounded impatient, half-angry.

  “I don’t know what Elban’s thinking,” Judah said. “He hasn’t told me.”

  She didn’t mean the words to bite, but they did. Eyes still covered, she heard Elly’s exasperated sigh, and felt bad. “Sorry, El. I’m sick.”

  “I know. Every time Gavin decides to drown in a bottle, I lose both of you. It’s not your fault, but it’s—” Elly’s voice stopped short, as if snipped with scissors. Judah heard the swish of skirts. Finally, she said, “It’s not that he’s with that stupid woman. And it’s not even that he’s being so obvious about it. But Gavin’s the only one who might have the remotest clue what Elban’s up to, and the fact that he’s hidden himself away somewhere—it worries me.”

  Judah had no counterargument. It worried her, too. Moving her arm a spare inch gave Judah a view of Elly standing at the mirror, doing something to her hair. She was wearing one of her courtier gowns, soft and pink with too much embroidery. “Are you going out?”

  “Theron has decided to pick this morning to go to training,” she said. “Since Gavin can’t be bothered to make an appearance, I’m going down with him.” Judah’s thoughts must have shown on what little Elly could see of her face, because the other woman—stormy though her expression was—managed a semi-amused grin. “It’s okay. Courtiers do it all the time—observe training. There are even benches.”

  “Will there be courtiers sitting on them?”

  “Maybe.” Elly was cool. “I don’t really see how it matters.”

  She could afford to say that. Protocol would have kept Elly away from the courtiers even if the Seneschal hadn’t wanted it that way; she was supposed to stay apart, to remain impartial. Judah took her arm away from her eyes, dropped it casually across the other one over her stomach. Trying to be subtle, so Elly couldn’t see, she scratched a curlicue and twist on the inside of her arm. Where are you? There was no answer.

  * * *

  She planned to spend the day mucking out stalls with Darid to make the time go faster. Horses required the movement of astounding amounts of hay: from hayrick to loft, from loft to manger, from stall floor to manure pile. But every time she sat up the lurching came back. Gavin didn’t answer her no matter how many times she scratched, which distracted and annoyed her. Finally, she made it to her feet and stumbled down to the bathing rooms above the kitchen, where the great fires below kept the water hot. The steam and the pungent smell of the herbs steeping in the water cleared her head, but didn’t quiet her stomach. Individual bathing rooms were supposed to be single-gender but nobody paid attention to that and she could hear laughter from the room on one side of her and moaning from the other. None of the laughers or moaners was Gavin.

  Feeling somewhat more human, she dressed, braided her hair. Gavin wasn’t in the solarium or the gardens outside. By the time she made her way down the wooden path that led to the training fields, the morning session was nearing its end. On the grassless field, men ran at each other in heavy leather armor, foreheads dripping with sweat, hair tied back or shaved entirely. Dust hung over everything. It coated her mouth and her eyes and the sleeves of her dress with a thin haze, like pollen. The benches set up by the training field were located upwind from the cavalry stables, for the observers’ comfort. On one end, they bloomed with courtiers holding fine scented handkerchiefs to their noses against the dust. On the other end sat Elly: back held straight, eyes fixed on the field.

  Judah joined her. “Where’s Theron?”

  “Can’t you tell?” Elly said, and Judah realized that she could. He was the smallest, and the scrawniest, and he spent most of his time standing pointlessly in the dust, flinching when one of the guards came too near.

  “He doesn’t belong here,” she said.

  “No,” Elly said grimly. “He doesn’t.”

  Whatever maneuver the guards were practicing was over. Swords were being sheathed, gauntlets removed. Again, Theron was ignored. He trudged toward the edge of the field, dreary and dejected. When he spotted the two of them, he seemed to gladden. Up close, he looked ludicrous in his leathers. The pieces of armor didn’t fit him or each other, and the mismatch was so obvious that it couldn’t be other than deliberate. Anger swelled inside Judah.

  “Well?” he said, by way of greeting.

  Elly gave him an encouraging smile. “You did well.”

  “No, I didn’t. But at least I tried.” To Judah, he said, “Hello. Elly came down to make sure I didn’t accidentally stab myself in the throat, but why are you here?”

  “I never thought you’d stab yourself in the throat,” Elly said.

  “Wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” Judah said.

  “You’re not the only one.” Theron sounded depressed again. Judah followed his gaze to the courtiers. Laughter drifted over the field, musical and cold. “They’ve been here all day, cackling. As if this wasn’t hard enough.”

  “When you’re Commander of the Army, have all their heads cut off,” Judah said.

  “I’d settle for having them turned in another direction.”

  “Ignore them,” Elly said. “You did well. Really, you did.”

  Wearily, he said, “I’m nearsighted, not delusional, but thanks. Now I’m heading up the hill before anyone else notices me. You two coming?”

  “Of course,” Elly said.

  Meanwhile, a lone blossom separated itself from the bouquet of courtiers, and floated graciously toward them. Firo. “I’ll be up in a while,” Judah said.

  Theron blinked in surprise, but when Elly nudged him and gestured toward the approaching figure, the surprise crumbled to disgust. “Fine, then,” he said, curt, and started up the hill.

  “Ask if he’s seen Gavin,” Elly muttered, and followed him.

  When he was close enough, Firo gave Judah a courtly bow. “A surprise to see you here.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” she said.

  He cocked his head. The gems in his ears were blue instead of white today. “While I admit to occasionally going out of my way to find you, today it’s you who’s found me. I had no idea you’d be here when I came to watch the training. Did you find it diverting?”

  “Not especially.” Her tone was flat.

  “Nobody does. It’s tedious and dusty. But the House is very excited about the hunt this weekend, and when word got around that Lord Theron was here—well, we couldn’t very well stay away, could we?” He leaned in close. His eyebrows were drawn in kohl, as well. “Odds are being taken.”

  “On what?” she said, suspicious.

  “Why, the results of the hunt. We’re all intensely curious about the outcome. I had to call in quite a few favors to get myself invited along. Naturally, it’s a disappointment that Lord Gavin wasn’t on the field today, but we’ve seen him at arms before. And watching Lord Theron is its own satisfaction.”

  Judah had see
n nothing satisfying in Theron’s performance on the field. “Hunting is different than combat.”

  “Is it?” Firo made a humming noise under his breath. He nodded toward the benches below, where a tiny figure in emerald green broke away from the cluster of blossoms. The blossoms followed after it like windblown petals. “That’s Lady Amie, by the way.”

  “Was Gavin with her last night?” Judah said.

  “Indeed. He’s probably in her rooms right now.”

  “Then why is she here?”

  With faint surprise, Firo said, “Letting him sleep, I imagine. And, as I said, watching Lord Theron.” Firo stared out onto the field, though there was nothing to see. “Have you ever read the work of the Zeldish poets?”

  Judah didn’t care about poetry. “No.”

  “One of the wandering guilds. Lunatics to a one, of course. At least they were. Nobody’s sure if they still exist. Their devotion is—was—poetry. Strange poetry, about the least poetic things. Dead leaves and barren fields. Things like that. And yet somehow rather appealing.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Beauty in death, or that which is about to die. The beauty of transience. Watching a flame, knowing it will burn out, and be gone forever.” His eyes were level and unblinking. “It’s a shame that Lord Theron is not, himself, more beautiful.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What, indeed,” he said. “Didn’t I say I would warn you, if a warning was necessary?” On the benches, the courtiers rose en masse, and slowly began to climb the hill like one single, multi-hued creature. “Ah, lunch. I must go,” he said, and did.