"He can't do without you at court," Safire stated flatly. "It's a fact," she added when my gaze darted her way. "You're writing almost all his letters now, attending functions for him, carrying out his intrigues. Even Merius has noticed--he remarked just the other day how grateful he is that you're assisting Mordric so much now. You took over all the duties Merius hates, especially the letters."
"Oh God, Merius." I swallowed, my eyes following the scrolled curves and curlicues carved into the ceiling.
"What?"
"We can play this off to the world as a marriage of convenience--I'm not saying it won't be a scandal. It will. But Mordric thinks we can weather it. What he's most concerned about is Merius. How do you think he'll take it?" I picked a bit of lint off my skirt and worried it to tatters with my fingers.
She sucked air through her nostrils, as if preparing for a sprint around the courtyard. "It'll be a shock, but I think he'll be all right, better than he would have been even a year ago. He trusts both you and his father far more than he did when I met him. The key is that Mordric has to be the one to tell him. Merius will feel betrayed if he hears the news from anyone else, even me."
I nodded and noticed my hands were laced over my still flat middle in a strangely protective gesture. I started to change position and then paused. Generally, I prided myself on decisiveness, but I had grown accustomed to ambivalence over the last week. I had hesitated consulting Helga and then done it. I had debated taking the bloodweed and then not done it. I had delayed telling Mordric and then done it. I had considered bearing the child in secret and giving it to a good peasant family to raise and then not done it. I had dithered about the myriad evils of matrimony and then accepted Mordric's proposal. My bewildered state the last week reminded me of that silly girlhood game of pulling the petals off a daisy to ascertain the identity of an admirer. All my logic and good sense had come to this--a glorious, terrifying emotional muddle and a handful of invisible petals.
Chapter Twenty--Mordric
Landers Hall, Silmer Province, Eastern Cormalen
June, 2 years ago
Counting under my breath, I reviewed the tenant ledger for May. I scribbled a few notations in the margin to check the arithmetic, then I glanced over my spectacles at Selwyn. He sat on the other side of the desk, his shoulders hunched as he apparently contemplated the fascinating wood grain of his chair arm. I cleared my throat, and he jumped.
"Yes, sir?" he asked. He straightened, his bloodshot eyes finally meeting mine. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he'd been drinking or smoking some of that new-fangled pipe weed from the SerVerin Empire, the stuff laced with opium. Like SerVerin ivory, SerVerin pipe weed could only be obtained from smugglers. I wished I had some of it right now, even if it did cost a whole pouch of gold for one leaf. It would be worth it, if I could use it to spend the next few days in a hazy stupor. I groaned inwardly. Merius would be here in an hour or so. At least I would get that over with today. At the thought, I reached for my hip flask and drained it with a loud glugging.
Selwyn watched me with wide eyes. "Are the ledgers that bad, sir? I swear, I checked them twice . . ." His words trailed off in an obscenely loud sneeze. "Forgive me--this damned cold . . . had it for a month . . ." he snuffled into his handkerchief.
"The ledgers are fine. Excellent, as a matter of fact." It couldn't hurt to be generous--I needed all the good will I could get at this point.
"Really?" Selwyn actually grinned, a thin-lipped, toothy affair. It reminded me of the day I had granted him equal access to the income from Whitten's share of the estate--he had been so grateful. Selwyn was a good sort, really, trustworthy to a fault. And he worked hard to run the estate.
"Your experience the last couple years has taught you how to respond on your own to novel situations. Your dedication here gives Merius and me time to do what we need to do at court, and I appreciate it," I said, surprising myself with my own depth of sincerity.
"Thank you, sir. I couldn't have done it without your guidance," he stammered. "You're the only man left from your generation of Landers. I've been thinking about it lately--if you hadn't been here to take the helm when you did, we might not have a thriving House now. We might not have a House at all, in fact."
"Thank you, Selwyn. That was a hard couple of years, wasn't it?"
He nodded vigorously, blowing his nose again. His father and younger brother had been carried off by a nasty ague over a decade ago, the same fever that had killed Whitten's father and some of the servants. The plague had raged across Silmer Province that fateful winter, but I could think of no other House that had lost quite so many to the pestilence as the Landers had. Right after Arilea's death too. It had seemed then we were cursed. When Whitten turned into a hopeless drunkard, Merius a wild rebel, and Selwyn a plodding dullard, I had almost despaired again. But then both Merius and Selwyn grew out of their adolescence and became responsible men (for the most part), and I regained frail hope the Landers would stay the course despite Whitten's betrayal. In the midst of all this, I had forgotten to take into account my own weaknesses. There hadn't been time to think of myself with a House to run, our position at court to manage, and a headstrong son to raise. No wonder Eden had found me ripe for seducing. Now here we were, poised on the edge of the biggest scandal of my career. I could only pray that my plan shielded us, particularly her, from the worst of it. I shook my head and wished for more whiskey, now that my hip flask was empty. However, it was probably best there was no more to be had at the moment; otherwise I might have drunk myself into oblivion before Merius even arrived.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I found him in the kitchen being fussed over by the scullery maids and cook as he gulped water from a dipper. "Do any of you ladies have a towel?" he grunted, and they flurried about like a flock of disturbed hens clucking over a stray chick.
He poured water over the towel and started wiping it all over his head and neck. "Good afternoon, Father," he said, his voice muffled as he washed the road grime from his face.
"Sir Mordric," the cook exclaimed, shooing the maids back to whatever tasks Merius had interrupted. "My apologies--I didn't see you. Is there anything you require, sir?"
"Thank you, Hester. I came to find Merius." I gestured to him, and he nodded, slinging the towel in a wash tub before he followed me out the door into the back hall.
"You up for a ride?" I asked.
His brow furrowed. "It's hotter than hell, and I just rode all the way from court. Can't we talk in your study?"
"No, we can't." I hoped he would assume that what I had to tell him should be told far from potential eavesdropping ears, which was true, but really, I just hoped for more room to get out the way in case he decided to punch me. He tended to react to shock with rage, and the last thing I wanted was a repeat of the fit he had when he found out how I'd arranged the mock marriage between Safire and Whitten. I also didn't need a black eye or bloody nose when I was trying to present my marriage-of-convenience subterfuge to everyone else.
"Oh." He shrugged. "All right."
After a few minutes waiting for the grooms to saddle and bring out a fresh horse for Merius and Hunter for me, we mounted and rode in silence through the apple orchard to the forest path. At least it would be cooler under the trees--I was already starting to sweat under my collar and had a new appreciation for Merius's point that it was hot with the summer sun beating down on my head. Hunter plodded along patiently, so familiar with this route that I hardly had to use the reins.
Merius breathed a sigh as we came under the canopy of the trees, our horses' hooves thumping dully on the mossy path. "This feels much better," he said.
I swatted at a fly on my neck. "I married Eden yesterday before I left court," I heard myself say.
Merius tugged on his horse's reins so hard that the poor animal reared back with a loud neigh. Quickly, he patted the horse's neck. "Shh, shh now," he murmured. "I'm sorry." The horse, a placid piebald gelding Ebner called Posey, soon grew still a
gain and stood there blinking and twitching his ears as Merius stroked the line of his mane. It seemed calming the horse was calming Merius as well. I waited for him to speak. A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, brief flickers of sunlight hitting the forest floor. Finally, he said quietly, staring at the space between Posey's ears, "Why?"
"She's with child."
He angled his face toward me, his head tilted as he couldn't quite make out what I said. "You, the man of a thousand plots--you couldn't think of any other way out of this situation? Good God, Father, you could have married her off to someone else--you've certainly threatened to do that plenty of times . . ."
"I need her at court. She can't assist me if she's some other man's wife."
Merius nodded. "All right, I understand that. That still doesn't answer my basic question. You could have sent her away for awhile, told everyone she's at the Sarneth court or some nonsense. Frankly, I'm surprised she came to you--surely she could have gotten her hands on some bloodweed. In fact, hasn't she used it before . . ."
"I forbid her to take it again. After what happened to your mother . . . oh hell, I'm sorry, Merius," I said when I noticed his mouth tighten.
"It's all right."
I started. "You already knew your mother took bloodweed? How do you know that?"
"I saw the blood on the sheets after she died, heard some servants talk . . ." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as if trying to blot out the memory. "I'm glad you forbade Eden to take it--it's dangerous," he said thickly. Then he inhaled sharply and looked at me again. "Still, Father . . . I hate to see you do this to yourself. I mean, family honor is important, and I don't want to see Eden ruin herself any more than you do. But marry her, even a marriage of convenience? I just don't understand . . . I mean, this child . . . after you went on and on to me about Sewell and cuckoo's children--how can you even think of accepting some other man's child as your own?"
"The child is mine."
His mouth dropped open, and he stared at me. "How?" he asked finally. Then he blanched, put his hand to his mouth. "Oh, dear God, don't answer that," he muttered inanely. He dug his heels into Posey's sides, and the startled horse jumped forward, heading up the path in a lively trot.
I spurred Hunter forward. "Merius . . ."
At the crest of the path, he suddenly turned Posey around to face me, and I stopped Hunter. We regarded each other like two knights in a joust. I heard his harsh panting and realized he was having difficulty catching his breath as people sometimes did when they'd been hit with a shock.
"It's been going on a long time, hasn't it? At least a year?" His voice was hoarse.
"She sneaked into my chamber at the Sarneth embassy disguised as a maid . . ."
"So she seduced you?"
"Of course--I wouldn't have thought to touch her otherwise."
He nodded. "Thank God. Father, if I thought you had used your position to coerce her in any way . . ."
"Never, Merius. I would never do that."
"I know." He swallowed. "I'm sorry--I just find it all so strange. And sudden . . . I just don't understand why I didn't see it. Or why you didn't say something before."
"What was I supposed to say?" Still holding Hunter's reins, I lifted my hands, palms up, and shrugged. "My mistresses have never been something I felt the need to discuss with you."
"Which I'm glad of, but none of your mistresses has ever been Eden, either," he said, his tone wry. "For God's sake--she and I grew up together. We had the same tutors, played the same games--she was quite the tomboy. Now she's my stepmother?"
I exhaled loudly. "Merius, I was at court almost all the time when you were young. And when I was at Landers Hall, I hardly saw anyone besides your mother and you. You children never even sat in the banquet hall for meals, so I think I can count on one hand how many times I remember glimpsing Eden before she came to court as a lady-in-waiting."
He nodded, seeming to accept this. "All right--I can understand that. On a philosophical level anyway."
"Philosophical level, my arse," I muttered. "Asinine son." I snapped the reins and tightened my knees, and Hunter took off in a rough canter. It was difficult to ride smoothly with all the tree roots across the path, but Hunter had been this way so many times before he managed it with a speed Posey couldn't match. Hearing Posey's hooves grow fainter behind us, I finally slowed Hunter to a walk.
"I kept meaning to end it, you know," I said as Merius caught up.
"Why didn't you?"
"I don't know. I don't think Eden knows either. We just plot so well together--it started to make this odd kind of sense. None of my former mistresses have a quarter of her wit and ability--I never picked one with brains before. I was always so worried about spies--I could never trust any of them like I trust her. And then she turned up with child . . . I mean, what could I do, aside from marry her?"
"Nothing. You did the honorable thing, Father." He reached out and touched my elbow. I started and glanced over at him. He took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say congratulations."
I drew the reins taut, and Hunter halted. "You mean that? You're not being sarcastic?"
"No. God no, not about this." He stared down at the pommel of his saddle. "It still seems strange to me, but you sound content with your decision, and that's all that matters. You've had a difficult life for a man of your position, and if marrying Eden makes you happy, then I'm glad you did it." He met my gaze then, his face set, and I saw he was sincere.
"Thank you, Merius. I don't need your permission, but I sure as hell want your blessing."
He cleared his throat and gave me a tight smile as he fidgeted with the reins. "So now I have a wicked stepmother? And I'm married to a witch . . . it really is starting to sound like one of those fairy tales Mother used to read to us."
I shook my head--he said the oddest things sometimes. But at least he hadn't gone off in a rage. Really, he had taken the news in stride with more maturity than I thought he possessed. He was a good son, and he'd become a good man. I had assumed for so long that he would be my only living offspring, and now . . . God, I hardly dared think about it. I wouldn't let myself think about it until Eden actually delivered--otherwise I'd wreck myself with desperate hope or vain despair long before the babe's arrival. Best to remain in the present and be as practical as possible about the whole mess.
With that aim in mind, I said, "Now, obviously, you can tell Safire the real reason--I don't expect with the mind bond that you could keep it from her even if I wanted you to." I paused, having the sudden urge to laugh and trying to stifle it. That little witch--I had no idea how she had done it, but she had managed to keep the secret from Merius for a year and a half. I could never let on to him though--I knew it had been a completely innocent deception on her part to spare him, but he would likely never see it that way, and I certainly didn't want to cause her any trouble.
So I swallowed back my laughter and continued, "But to the rest of the world, this is a marriage of convenience to save Eden's honor, the Landers's honor, so that I can keep her at court. After what happened with Peregrine, everyone knows that she assists me, and they'll likely assume that I couldn't send her back to Landers Hall in disgrace because I need her for some plot. They'll also likely assume the babe isn't mine, and that's all right. That's what I want them to assume."
Merius gave a quick bob of acknowledgement. "Understood. Safire and I both will do what we can to protect the truth from the court--what does Eden always call them?--vultures."
"Yes, vultures. In the current political climate, a love match within our House would be a ripe bit of gossip for our rivals--they'd use it to curry favor with King Arian and the bishop. We can't afford that."
He nodded again. "No, we can't. The bishop would use any weak spot he could find. I think he wants to bring us down, Father--that way he looked at Safire during Dominic's blessing . . . I don't like the assassins, but I do thank God we have their protection whenever I see the bishop."
; "I know." I touched his arm. "Thank you, Merius, for how well you've taken this." There was so much more I wanted to say to him, about how proud I was to be his father. But the words eluded me, and in the end, I merely clapped him on the shoulder before I wheeled Hunter around and sped back down the path. I fumbled for my hip flask but then remembered it was empty. By the time I reached the courtyard, Merius and Posey a distant echo behind me, I no longer wanted whiskey. I dismounted Hunter, my hand against his warm, shuddering neck, the horse hair a pleasant prickle under my fingertips, and realized that Merius was right. Despite the scandal, despite my fears for Eden, I was happy. Happiness had been creeping up on me for a long time now, a well-hidden predator, and now it was too late to evade it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As soon as Merius had galloped Posey into the courtyard, Selwyn had come out of the house with a basket and a couple of poles. He and Merius had then gone fishing, which explained why the main course before me at dinner was roasted trout with a nicely seasoned breadcrumb and herb stuffing. Steaming, tender flakes of white flesh, lightly peppered and salted and flavored with butter and lemon . . . this trout just two hours before had been swimming in the river. Fish never tasted this fresh at court. I almost forgot the announcement I planned to make as I savored one of the few things I truly appreciated about being here: the food. Court food was fancier, but I liked simple fare best. Why ruin the taste of good meat with all those silly sauces? As for the conversation, I stayed out of that inanity as much as possible. I wasn't about to let the opportunity of Merius's presence go to waste--he could handle being Talia and Dagmar's target for now. God knew I would be in the hot seat soon enough.
"I don't understand why you didn't bring Safire and Dominic, Merius." Dagmar stabbed at her salad. "I've hardly seen her since December when I was sick." She bit down on the mixed greens and cucumber pieces with a vicious crunch as she glared at Merius.
"Dominic had a fever, and Safire didn't think he should travel," Merius mumbled around his bread crust. "She'll come when he's better."
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 49