Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3)

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Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 25

by Nilsen, Karen


  "Off the balcony." Merius made a swooping gesture with his hand, his drapery cape sliding off his shoulders to the floor.

  "How? It looks too wide to get through the door or the windows," Cedric observed.

  Merius glanced from him to the windows to the glider to the door and then back to Cedric again, a strange befuddlement clouding his normally sharp features. "But . . ." he started finally. "But if we turn it this way and then that way, surely . . ." he trailed off, his eyes making that slow circuit around the chamber again. "Oh hell. Jared, I think he's right. Oh hell." He staggered back to his chair and collapsed on it. He stared straight ahead as if none of us were there, the look of a man facing utter defeat.

  I patted Gerard's shoulder before I abandoned his lap and went around the table to Merius. I brushed the hair from his forehead and said softly, "You look tired."

  He nodded. "I've been awake for a long time, ever since Safire left."

  "That is a long time. Maybe you need a rest."

  "What he needs is more ale--that'll cheer him," Gerard said.

  Merius shook his head and covered his face with his hands as if the light suddenly shone too brightly. I turned to the others. "Why don't you boys go to the tavern? Merius will be along presently--he just needs a quiet moment."

  As soon as they had left the chamber, arms linked and singing a tavern song at the tops of their lungs, I helped Merius to his feet. He moved like a sleepwalker, willing to go wherever I led him. I had seen him tipsy a few times before but never this intoxicated. I was pleased to find him an easy drunk. If Mordric had been in a state like this, he would have been swearing and making vile threats if someone had tried to lead him anywhere.

  We paused outside the door to the bedchamber. Merius gripped my shoulder and then sagged against the wall, suddenly unsteady. I heard a clamor on the back stairs, and Birdley appeared at the top, Bridget right behind her.

  "My lady, do you need help?"

  "Birdley, go get some water and medicine powders. Bridget, you help me with him."

  Birdley appeared with a large pitcher of water, a tumbler, and powders just as Bridget and I managed to get Merius sitting on the edge of the bed. He glanced all around at the furniture and clutter before he looked at me. "I don't like this, Eden. It's so empty."

  I refrained from mentioning the stacks of his books and papers still on every available surface, his shirt sleeves sticking out of the wardrobe, his razor on the washstand--I knew he meant Safire's absence. I ran my hand through his hair as it seemed to soothe him and said, "Don't think about that now. Drink some water and go to sleep."

  He nodded and managed to down two tumblers of water. He screwed his face up at the bitter taste of the powders, gulping them when I told him they would make him have good dreams.

  "Where's Safire? I want her to see the glider," he said as we lifted his feet on to the bed and pulled the covers over him.

  "She'll be along soon, love, maybe when you wake up. Now shut your eyes."

  He obeyed. "The bed's spinning," he mumbled. "Dizzy like dancing . . ." Then he turned over on his side and blinked at us. "God, there's a lot of you. I'm sorry--I don't think I can dance with so many at once. Good night, fey ladies." Then he closed his eyes again. I continued combing my fingers through his hair until a quiet snore issued from his parted lips.

  "He looks so young," Bridget observed. "I've never seen a man so tractable when he's drunk. Most of them are demons."

  "They both have sweet natures under all the stubbornness and fits of temper--Elsa says they're made for each other but they're still sanding off the rough edges," Birdley said. Then she seemed to realize she spoke aloud because she covered her mouth with her hand and gaped at me. "I'm sorry, my lady, I shouldn't have . . ." she trailed off.

  I grinned. "Elsa has her shrewd moments. Come, fey ladies, let's leave him to sleep." I pushed the chamber pot to a place he would be able to see and reach it when he awoke. Then we departed, pulling the door closed behind us with the softest of clicks.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I returned around eight o'clock the following night without Bridget. It was her evening off, and she'd gone to a masquerade with Ricard, the second son of a minor merchant. His courtship of her had been slow-paced due to little coin (a common affliction of second sons) and her lukewarm response to him. He was a nice enough fellow, but lacked spontaneity and seemed possessed of spirits leaden in their earnestness. For instance, tonight he had been wearing the traditional bandit mask, not even a vulture beak or other small ornament to distinguish it. Of course, perhaps I had been spoiled by being around too many exciting, dangerous men and had passed this attitude on to Bridget. I'd rather suffer at the hands of a dashing scoundrel than be bored to death, a defect of character I knew I would pay blood for one day.

  "Has he stirred?" I asked Birdley when she opened the door.

  "He's woken several times to retch, then went back to sleep."

  "Did you give him more water, like I told you?"

  "Yes, my lady." She bobbed her head. "Should I prepare him supper? He's drank most of his meals since Lady Safire left, and I imagine he might be recovered enough to be hungry now."

  "That's a good idea. Don't fix a tray. I'll bring him down to the kitchen in a few minutes--I need him as alert as I can get him." I climbed the stairs and knocked on the chamber door. After a moment of silence, I knocked again.

  "Who is it?" Merius said then, his voice muffled.

  "Eden. I have a note from your father."

  I heard a scrape of metal, then a shuffle of feet. He opened the door halfway and peered at me through the crack, the brass candleholder in his hand dipping at an alarming angle. "Thank you for your help yesterday--I don't remember a lot but I know you helped me. Now, what is it?"

  I held out the note, as if I thought he would need proof that I spoke truly. "There have been rumblings and discontent among the peasants in Silmer Province, even the ones on the Landers estate. They're upset that Sullay is still free."

  He took the note and scanned it, the shadows lengthening on his face. "All right, give me a minute to pack, and then we'll go to the royal stables together so I can escort you back to court and retrieve Shadowfoot. I don't want to wait for a carriage."

  I grabbed his shoulder as he turned away. "Merius, not so fast. Didn't you read the whole letter? He needs you to attend the welcoming ceremonies for Princess Esme tomorrow."

  "Has he lost his mind? I'm not going to some hen party when peasants are threatening to overturn our province."

  My grip tightened on his sleeve. "You're the only Landers who can attend."

  "What about you?"

  I grinned. "Are you in jest? Haven't you heard the rumors? I'm Prince Segar's mistress--it's not seemly for me to attend his future wife's welcoming ceremony."

  "Well, that future wife kissed me while I was her mother's prisoner in Sarneth. Maybe it's not seemly for me to attend either."

  "Princess Esme kissed you?"

  He looked a trifle smug. "She liked my accent."

  I snorted. "Does Safire know?"

  "No, and don't you dare tell her. She's upset enough with me as it is." He sighed and hung his head, staring at his feet.

  "Come on." I tugged on his sleeve. "You need some food, and then you need to rest. You have a busy day tomorrow, if you plan to leave for Landers Hall after the ceremony."

  He took the steps down to the kitchen slowly, deliberately, as if he were a king going down to greet his subjects. "Damn, my head's still whirling," he said, pausing at the bottom. "Birdley, do you have a clean cloth?"

  "Of course, sir." She bustled around the kitchen, which smelled of delicious things frying in butter and bacon grease. "So nice to see you up and about," she remarked as she handed him the cloth, her eyes running over him with an almost maternal appraisal. I could tell what she was thinking for I was thinking the same thing. With his dark stubble, wrinkled clothes, and lean, hungry look, he resembled a neglected, half-grown puppy, a
pitiful sight. It was a deceptive resemblance, for I knew he had led men into battle and could fend very well for himself if need be. But still my well-guarded heart unlocked itself and reached out to him, as I knew Birdley's heart reached out to him. I wondered suddenly if all men who lost their mothers at a young age had the same scruffy, dangerously vulnerable charm.

  He uncorked the copper pipe coming out of the fireplace mantel and to my surprise, steaming water ran out on the cloth in his hand. He wrung the cloth out, then placed it over his face with a sigh.

  "So that pipe has hot water--how does that work?" I asked.

  He lifted the cloth enough so he could look at me with one eye. "I rigged up a copper tank inside the fireplace--the rainwater barrel runs into it."

  "Hmm, interesting." If you need that much hot water, you should hire someone to haul and boil it. I held my wicked tongue. Mordric had already lectured him mercilessly about the glider's impracticality, lectures that only ignited Merius's stubborn determination to fly with the birds.

  "Would you have a seat, my lady?" Birdley gestured to the bench by the table. "Do you require anything? Tea, perhaps?"

  "Some wine please."

  "What about food?"

  I examined the skillets resting on trivets in the embers. "Those mushrooms and onions, some toast--that would do nicely."

  Merius finally put the cloth aside and claimed the bench across the table from me. "I didn't think I'd ever be hungry again, but this smells delicious," he said, heaping his plate high. "Thank you, Birdley."

  She ducked her head, as if suddenly shy. "If you don't require my services anymore for the night, I think I'll turn in, sir."

  "If anyone deserves a rest, you do. Good night, then," Merius said, beaming in her direction. She murmured something too low to be intelligible and then scurried away.

  "She's a wonderful cook," Merius mumbled around a mouthful of toast.

  "And a loyal servant, to put up with you and your friends. It's been dangerous around here, with urns flying everywhere."

  He grinned. "I'll double her wages for the month."

  "You better. We need to talk about the council. And Peregrine," I said abruptly.

  He nodded, crunching on some bacon as he stared into space. "That blackguard. I know you only do it because of Father's plots, but honestly, how you can stand to be around him? You know, Safire said something right before she left that reminded me of you."

  "What did she say?"

  "It wasn't about you exactly. It was about Cyranea and how her father is treating her as a pawn in this intrigue with Peregrine. Do you know what a gifted scholar Cyranea is? She's written several treatises on Sirach's verse, treatises Peregrine couldn't even begin to comprehend, and he dares use her as a pawn in one of his games? One of the cleverest people at court, and she has no say in her own future."

  "No woman has a say, Merius, save what men allow her."

  "Well, it's not fair. Someone with a mind like Cyranea's, silenced by the likes of Peregrine and her dastardly father. I bet she hates Peregrine." Merius set down his fork and stopped chewing. As his gaze met mine, he swallowed. "I bet she hates her own father for selling her to Peregrine, all for a plot. In fact, I bet she would betray her father to get out of that betrothal."

  It was for moments like these that Mordric had labored over his training. Merius had declared many a time he hated plotting and intrigue, but he had a gift for it, these lightning flashes of insight that seemed to come out of nowhere.

  "I could approach her." I took a sip of wine. "She's in the city--I saw her at court the other day."

  "We need some guarantee first, something to offer her in exchange for betraying her father, something she can't refuse," Merius mused out loud as he stirred more cream in his coffee.

  "You're right--getting her out of the betrothal with Peregrine isn't enough. If her father is implicated in this plot, all his lands will be forfeit to the crown. She could lose her whole inheritance if she helps us."

  "When do you see Prince Segar next?" he asked.

  "Tomorrow--he wanted me to help him prepare for Princess Esme's welcoming ceremony."

  "He what?" Merius guffawed. "That's bold, having his mistress attend him on the morn of his betrothed's arrival. Do King Arian or Queen Verna know?"

  "I doubt it, or they would have put a stop to it." I leaned over the table and lowered my voice. "Honestly, the prince and I are more friends than lovers."

  Merius took a hasty slurp of coffee. "Well, whatever you are to each other, do you think you could talk to him about this, get him to help us?"

  My eyes ran over him--his uncombed hair sticking out in all directions, his four days worth of dark stubble, his unlaced shirt, the wild light in his still whiskey-bleared eyes. Sloppily erotic, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed after one hell of a tumble. "Why don't you come with me tomorrow?" I suggested.

  "What?" Merius gaped at me. "You have an assignation with the prince--I think it would be a bit uncomfortable, having your kinsman there as the third wheel."

  "I told you, we're more friends than lovers. Besides, I'd like your help convincing him."

  "All right." He raised his brows and shrugged. "I think you'd do fine on your own, but I'll come."

  "Good." I smiled and lightly took the goblet stem between my fingers as I gulped the remaining wine.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Royal Palace, Corcin, Eastern Cormalen

  July, 3 years ago

  Prince Segar stood frowning at his reflection in the three-way folding mirror when I entered his suite the next morning. The two servants flanking me vanished without even waiting to be dismissed, their discretion telling in its silence. The prince's doublet was made of alternating stripes of light green velvet and golden satin, a nod to Cormalen's official colors. With the gold crown perched on his brown hair and heavy livery chains of office draped around his neck, he looked quite festive.

  He glanced at me, his hazel eyes catching the green and gold so they appeared feverishly bright. "You don't think it's too much, do you?" he demanded. "It looked fine when the tailor presented it to me, but now I wonder if it makes me look a jester."

  "A very patriotic jester, Your Highness."

  "Damn it, Eden, don't tease me. I order you to be serious." He grabbed a tumbler of some amber liquor and took a swig. Was it my week to be surrounded by drunken men?

  "Brandy this early?"

  "I've been up all night," he explained.

  "So you'll not only be drunk when you greet your future bride, you'll be yawning as well. Makes for a wonderful first impression, Your Highness." I stood behind him and ran my hands over his shoulders to smooth the square edges of the trim around the top of the sleeves.

  "That trim matches my boot tops--see?" He held out his leg, and I noticed the castle tops of his brown suede boots.

  "Nice touch. I knew this would be a hard morning for you, so I arranged a special visitor to distract you from your marriage woes," I whispered in his ear.

  He met my gaze in the mirror. "Who?"

  "Merius has a favor to ask you."

  His lips parted in a grin, showing his crooked teeth. "Really? What kind of favor?"

  "You'll see--we're plotting an intrigue."

  "While Mordric's away, the mice will play." Prince Segar was still grinning when he glanced back at his reflection and adjusted his livery chain. "I'll have to think of some terms. I can't go around bestowing my royal favors for free."

  I swatted his arm. "Behave."

  When Merius entered a few minutes later, he did so with an uncharacteristic hesitation, pausing just inside the door to await Segar's acknowledgement. I realized then that this was likely his first private audience with the prince outside the council chamber. As the senior Landers at court, Mordric was the one who attended secret meetings with King Arian and Segar, not Merius. I noted with great satisfaction that although he had managed to bathe, put on fresh clothes, and shave, his hair was tousled, and a hint of stubble
already darkened his jaw. He had the disreputable seductiveness of a handsome highwayman, just the sort of look that Segar would relish.

  "Good morning, Merius," Segar said as he turned away from the mirror and devoted his full attention to my kinsman. I smiled to myself--close as I was with the prince, likely I could have wheedled any favor I wanted out of him with enough time, patience, and wit. But I couldn't use my feminine charms to distract him like I could with most men. Besides, I could only depend on my role as his alleged mistress for so long, now that he would soon be married. Using Merius as my cats-paw with him--what a brilliant stroke of manipulation, something I could use again. Too bad I couldn't share this triumph with Mordric--he would have appreciated it until the point I revealed Merius as my unwitting accomplice. Then he likely would have throttled me.

  "Good morning, Your Highness." Merius bowed. "I know you have to prepare for Her Royal Highness Esme's welcoming ceremony, so I'll be brief."

  "Take as much time as you need. Please, have a seat." The prince waved expansively toward the divan placed at a right angle to the mirror, a divan close enough that he could have easily reached out and touched it. The golden satin of his sleeves glowed in the sunlight as he moved, adding a divine touch to his appearance.

  Merius sat on the divan, his long legs at an awkward angle as he tried to maintain a polite distance from the royal person. I glanced down at my clasped hands. Would Merius suspect anything? It was rather unorthodox of the prince to ask a courtier to sit so close, even for a private meeting.

  Merius cleared his throat. "I'm not sure how much Eden may have told you . . ."

  "Not much of anything yet," I supplied.

  He nodded at this and continued, "All right. I know that His Majesty your father has been concerned for some time about how Thadeus of the Helles Isles manages his affairs of foreign trade. In fact, I believe that His Majesty and some of the councilors suspect that Thadeus has been using the isles for smuggling."

  "Cagey old fox--too bad no one's been able to catch him at it yet. So no dabbling in paint today, Merius? I'm disappointed." Segar's grin widened.

 

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