Our plot worked. Lady Evangeline, whom I secretly called Titters--she spoke in a chirpy, little girl voice that grated the nerves and her breasts bounced in a most alarming way when she laughed--threw half her silver and all her copper on the pile, her partner following suit like a little blond lemming. "We raise you, Your Highness," she tweeted.
Safire met my eyes across the table, one of her thin brows delicately arched, sharp-edged as a copper wire. Then she leaned to the side and whispered something to Cyranea, her partner. Cyranea nodded brusquely. "Safire and I fold," she announced.
I should never have let those two partner up. Usually I tried to snag Safire for these card games as her witch talents proved invaluable when others bluffed. However, she and I had decided a month ago that it was wise to divide up at least every other game--we heard more gossip that way and could compare notes afterwards. Now that I surveyed my dwindling stacks of silvers and coppers, I realized I could care less about gossip. I wanted to win my coin back. Of course, the point of even participating in this absurdity was to advance our House at court and keep an eye on Her Highness, not to win coin. Esme had especially invited Safire and me to these games, and to turn down such an opportunity would be the height of rude stupidity. So both of us attended, even though Safire couldn't stand Esme.
Realizing she and Lemming were done for, Titters squealed in despair when I laid down my jacks. My eardrums gave an unpleasant twinge, and I noticed both Safire and Cyranea wince. The briefest frown thinned Esme's lips for an instant, her eyes narrowing before she clapped back on her smiling mask of courtly decorum. So she didn't like Titters either.
"My dear Evangeline," Esme said. "Never fear--you'll win it back the next hand, I'm sure. That is likely the closest Lady Eden and I will come to luck this evening with so many skilled players at this table." Her gaze came to rest on Safire.
Safire, who sensed the tides of human emotion like a weathered sailor with experience through many storms, managed to lose the next couple hands as readily as she could have won them. Finally Esme, a young lioness poised to pounce, sank back in her chair, faint puzzlement wrinkling her lovely features as she gathered yet more coin to our side of the table with a wonderfully vulgar clinking.
The door, a swinging affair with edges lined in baize, whooshed open, and Merius strode in, his boot heels rapping on the glistening parquet floor. "Your Highness, ladies," he said with a slight bow toward Esme and a nod to the rest of us. "I'm afraid to say I've come to collect Safire early."
"Wish you'd come to collect me as well," Titters said, winking.
"Why, Evangeline, do you have something in your eye?" I asked sweetly.
Esme gave a discreet sneeze which I was certain hid a snort. Titters shot me a slit-eyed, sidelong look but was wise enough not to engage me in any verbal exchange. Safire didn't speak either, but her eyes flared. She bit her lips together as if she were scared to open her mouth because if she did, she would start sputtering coals instead of words in Titters's direction.
Merius, completely oblivious as usual, said, "Lady Cyranea, so glad to see you here--I've been meaning to seek an audience with you."
The whole table straightened to attention at that one. "Really?" Cyranea glanced up at Merius, an austere little smile tugging at her thin lips. "Whatever for?"
Merius ran his hand over his jaw and clasped the back of his neck, his eyes raised toward the ceiling--he seemed to be thinking hard about something, perhaps how best to phrase what he said next considering the future queen was in attendance. Finally he looked down and met Cyranea's gaze, scratching his temple. "Lord Rankin and I have culled a list of words from some old writings, and we wondered if you had perhaps run across these words in any of the literature from the same period and if you have, if you had any ideas of what the words might mean from the context in which you found them."
Cyranea perched on the edge of her seat, an alert scholar eager to start the search. "What period?"
"At least five hundred years ago, maybe older."
"Strictly old Corcin?"
Merius nodded. "Do you think you could help?"
Cyranea exhaled with a loud sigh. "Perhaps, though to be honest, I know more about Sarneth literature from that period than our own."
"That may be the case, but you're still the most well-read scholar of older literature in any language. Lord Rankin still talks about the help you gave him translating those ancient Sarneth scrolls."
"He does?" A pinkish tinge colored Cyranea's pale cheeks.
"His Majesty my father has even mentioned your name," Esme offered. Following the direction of her gaze, though, I noticed it seemed to rest on Merius, not Cyranea. Of course--such a comment was the princess's subtle attempt to draw Merius's attention to her.
"Really? His Majesty King Rainier is the most highly acknowledged scholar in the known world, and he's mentioned me?" Cyranea's cheeks were positively crimson now. "I can't imagine why--I've done so little and most of it on my own . . ."
"You underestimate your work, my dear," Esme said with the dulcet graciousness of an older woman. She practiced for her upcoming role as the queen.
All the color drained from Safire's face, and Merius touched her shoulder, hovering over her. The invisible ropes between them thrummed so loudly I had a hard time convincing myself that the sound was my imagination. Abruptly, Safire pushed her chair back and stood.
"If you'll excuse me, Your Highness, ladies, I should go with my husband. I think our son needs my attention," she said quietly, her face still white. She curtsied stiffly towards Esme.
"My dear Safire, you haven't finished the game," Esme said, her tone modulated perfectly between reproach and concern.
"I apologize. Cyranea, I leave you my coin to do with as you like. I'm sure you can finish out the game without my assistance."
Cyranea inclined her head. "Thank you for the coin, and I'm sorry you have to leave. We should play together next time. It's not often I am so engaged in a game of thrice." I didn't doubt that--somehow Cyranea usually ended up with one of the princess's ladies-in-waiting, of which Titters and Lemming were prime examples.
"What if I forbid you to leave?" Esme's voice was thin as a razor, a sharp glint in her eyes. She was playing this as a jest, but all of us, even Titters and Lemming, heard more than a simple jest. The whole table froze.
Safire lifted her chin and met Esme's stare. "Then, Your Highness, I would have to respond that although you deserve my respect as my princess, you don't deserve my obedience yet. When you become queen, you'll have that. And when you are queen, I would expect you to have the goodness of heart to allow a mother to leave so she can nurse her infant son."
Esme's laugh held a breathless note--perhaps Safire's feisty eloquence had surprised her, since Safire generally said little in the royal presence. "Well, then, I'll just have to insist Merius stays to take your place--I doubt he has hungry babes to nurse."
Merius grinned. "No, Your Highness. Much as I would like to join you ladies, I'm already late for an important audience with His Highness Segar and His Majesty Arian. That, and I'm a terrible thrice player."
He and Safire turned and left the chamber then, his hand splayed against the small of her back in such an intimate, protective way that even Titters noticed. She wiggled impatiently on her seat as the door swung closed. "Humph--she's got him under a spell," she exploded after a quiet moment. "Don't understand it myself--such a little, freckled thing with that orange nest of hair . . ."
"Don't be such a jealous cat, Evangeline," Esme said. "I won't tolerate such rude chatter amongst my ladies-in-waiting."
"But Your Highness . . ." Titters stammered. "She was impertinent to you."
"At least she was honest. Perhaps you should abide by the rule that if you can't say something to someone's face, don't say it at all."
Titters dissolved into her chair and didn't speak the rest of the game. She was the daughter of an indebted lesser nobleman, her beauty marred by a distinct lack of char
m or wit. Being a lady-in-waiting offered her the rare chance to breach the upper echelons of court society and perhaps catch a rich husband despite her lacks, so the princess's reprimand cut especially deep. Cyranea, on the other hand, positively blossomed after hearing Esme take Titters to task. She even giggled girlishly when Esme complimented her on how well she shuffled cards. I watched it all and tried not to smirk. Cyranea seemed to take Esme's display as proof the princess was an enlightened sort, above the petty exchanges that characterized most of the court women's interactions with each other. I could understand why Cyranea, often the brunt of hissed pejoratives like bluestocking and old maid, jumped to such a generous conclusion about Esme, but I couldn't do the same. The princess visibly defending Safire could have many motivations aside from benevolence. Perhaps Esme had finally realized that if she wanted to get close to Merius, she would have to admit Safire into her inner circle. Or maybe she had finally realized what a worthy and likely insuperable rival Safire could be, that she would have to win over Safire before she could win over the sure support of any of the Landers. Perhaps Esme needed to gain Safire's confidence before she could carry out some secret plot for her father King Rainier. Whatever the motivation, I doubted it had anything to do with a sudden burst of good will on the princess's part.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I entered my chamber, I found Safire sitting on the lounge, her foot dipping in a gentle rhythm as she rocked Dominic's cradle. She sang a lullaby in a wavering, uncertain voice, and when she looked up, I noticed her face was splotchy with tears.
"What is it?" I demanded as I sat beside her on the lounge. "Where is everyone?"
"Merius is still meeting in the king's chambers, and I sent Elsa and Bridget away," she sniffled over the low thump of the cradle.
"Why?"
"I wanted to cry alone. I can't cry around Merius--the loveable ass always wants to fix it right away, as if I were a leaky gutter that just needed some patching, and Elsa . . . she'd want to know why, and I can't talk about this with her." Dominic snorted in his sleep. Safire stopped rocking, bent down, and smoothed his wispy blond hair.
I clasped my fingers and leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. "Can you talk about it with me?"
She looked up, her hand still on Dominic's forehead. "It's that wench Esme--she reminds me so much of her wicked mother sometimes. Merius sees it too, but he hides his distress better than I do. Much better than I do," she added with a mirthless laugh. "Some of the things Queen Jazmene did to us . . . God, Eden, it was awful. Those weeks she had us imprisoned at the palace and then Merius's duel with Toscar--I was certain it was the end for either Merius or me or both of us." She drew a shuddering breath, her hand fisted around her handkerchief.
I rested my palm on her back. "But it wasn't. And Queen Jazmene has been exiled. She can't hurt you here."
"But King Rainier can." Safire pressed her handkerchief to her nose, her eyes wide as she gazed at me. "He wants our babies. He wants Dominic for God knows what . . ."
"Safire, sweet, Dominic's still a babe. You and Merius have a decade at least before King Rainier comes after you. You have power in this situation, far more than you had with Jazmene. Rainier's more reasonable than Jazmene, and he wants you and Merius happy, not fighting him. I'm certain when the time comes, he'll be willing to negotiate."
"Maybe. Unless I open my ridiculous mouth again." She blew her nose. "I can't believe I said that to Esme. I was just so scared and angry. You'd think after all that's happened, after being around you Landers for so long, I would have at least learned to cultivate a better court mask and be less hasty. Apparently not--I should stay at home before I cause us all to lose our heads."
Briefly I related to her how Esme reprimanded Titters. "So see," I finished, "you being so bold with Esme was an unintentional stroke of genius. You reminded her that she still has to gain the good will of the high nobility if she expects to be queen."
"But Cormalen needs the alliance with Sarneth--if Esme doesn't like it here and complains to King Rainier, we're doomed."
"For God's sake, Safire, we're not doomed. What's gotten into you? You sound morose as Dagmar."
Our raised voices startled Dominic awake. He turned his arms and legs like windmills in a storm and exhaled in a loud snuffle that sounded suspiciously like the start of a crying fit. Safire plucked him out of the cradle and cuddled him against her shoulder, whispering to him. Her soft voice made me feel peaceful, so peaceful I suppressed a yawn as I watched them. My cat Deliah padded through the doorway leading to the bedchamber and paused, regarding us with unblinking green eyes. Then she came over and jumped between us with a loud meow. I rubbed behind her ears, and she arched against my side and purred.
"This cat hides from everyone except you, you know that?" I said. "You underestimate your witch ability to charm others--look at Mordric. He hated you at first, thought you were after Merius's fortune. Now look at him."
"He appreciates honesty. Most people don't. Do they?" she cooed to Dominic, who gnawed on his fingers and stared at her face, enraptured and drooling. She wiped away the spit with her handkerchief before she glanced in my direction. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked.
Panic fluttered under my skin. "I don't know, Safire . . . he seems so delicate."
She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Eden. You won't drop him, no more than you could drop one of your sculptures. They're delicate."
"But they don't move," I said out of the corner of my mouth.
"I won't take no for an answer. Here." She held him towards me, his bare feet dangling past the hem of his gown, his dimpled arms sticking straight out like a scarecrow's. I grasped him under the armpits and immediately set him on my lap, which I figured provided the most stability in case he decided to wiggle. He was far heavier than I expected, his warm weight solid against my legs and torso. Deliah, disgusted at the apparent change in my affections, jumped down and stalked off.
Dominic angled his head up and stared at me, one finger in his mouth. His eyes were the same deep agate gray of his father's and grandfather's eyes. I remembered then with a vaguely uncomfortable feeling like the beginnings of nausea how I hoped my baby inherited those eyes as well. My baby--it was so odd to think that in several months I would have one of these creatures emerge from my body. Only last week had I started feeling the hardness of my womb under the soft skin of my belly like an unripe pear. Only last week had my breasts become sore, the final symptom that had sent me to Helga. The morning sickness hadn't convinced me (just indigestion), missing my moon bleeding hadn't convinced me (perfectly normal to miss a month or two occasionally), and the exhaustion had just made me nap at odd times. No, all the evidence was there. I just was having a hard time believing it, even now.
A small, silken palm slapped my cheek then, leaving a smear of drool as Dominic gurgled at his handiwork. "Young man, that was completely uncalled for," I told him. "I'm scandalized at your poor manners."
"Wha?" He gazed up at me, all serious again. "Sa."
"Scandalized," I repeated, swiping my handkerchief over my cheek.
"Better get used to it," Safire observed, her tone dry. And knowing.
I jerked my head up. "How long have you suspected?" I hissed.
She shrugged and reached over to take Dominic back. "Mama," he murmured as she sat him on her lap.
"Yes, sweetling. I'm mama." She glanced at me. "I've suspected for some time, but I didn't know for certain till today."
"Why didn't you say something before?"
"It's not my place. Every woman should have that quiet time to herself when the knowledge is hers and hers alone--gives her time to contemplate it." She cuddled Dominic, and he nodded against her midriff as his eyes slipped closed.
"Oh, I've been contemplating all right. Scared stiff and worried sick, as a matter of fact." I managed a brittle laugh.
She ran her fingers down my bare arm so lightly all the hairs rose on the back of my neck, and I shivered. "It's going to be all right,"
she said in a low voice. "I know it doesn't feel that way now."
"What do you know about it?" I demanded. "You were well married to Merius by the time Dominic made an appearance. You have no idea--the scandal . . . the feeling that this irrevocable thing has happened, that there's no stopping the march of the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks . . . I mean, this is mere months away. People are going to start to notice soon. What the hell am I doing?"
Her frown was small, pensive. She kept stroking my arm, and I noticed then the silent tears welling over the edges of her eyes. "Safire, I didn't mean . . ." I stumbled.
"Shh." She raised her finger to her lips before she eased Dominic back into the cradle, his thumb in his mouth. Then she leaned over, put her hand beside my ear. "Listen to me," she whispered fiercely. "Whitten took me in my fit, got me with--with child. Do you imagine that was easy to tell Merius when he returned from battle? Do you imagine that was easy to hide when we were in Sarneth? It almost drove us over the edge. But we managed. With Mordric's help, with others' help, we managed. And it's going to be all right--Merius has figured out a way to fix it, get my son back for me. If we could handle that, I know you can handle this." Her tears dripped hot on my arm as she covered my hand with hers.
"Safire, I had no idea," I breathed. I recalled Mordric's slip in front of me last summer that Safire had been pregnant before conceiving Dominic. It seemed so long ago now.
She smiled through her tears. "You couldn't have. I only shared that with you because I thought it might help. It's going to be all right, Eden. Mordric will look out for you, I know he will. You've told him, right?"
"Of course. We mean to marry--soon."
"Marry?" Safire's smile broadened to a grin. "But that's lovely!"
"Easy for you to say," I grumbled. "I'm terrified, honestly. Not of him--I suppose if I was going to be glad about marrying any man, it would be him. He'll let me stay at court and help him . . ."
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 48