His head bowed, Merius entered then, deep in conversation with Cyranea. They paused by the door, and he leaned against the jamb, rubbing his shoulder blade against the edge with a grimace. It seemed he asked her a question, for she gave an abrupt nod. Then, with a sudden loud tearing that made several men glance up, Merius ripped a bit of foolscap from his notes and handed it to her.
"Lord Rankin and I appreciate it," he said, his voice becoming more distinct as they walked the length of the table toward me. Something about Talus's journals then--Eden had mentioned that Merius wanted Cyranea's help translating some of the more arcane words. Eden had speculated then that if Merius could ever be tempted from Safire's arms, it would be because the hypothetical seductress possessed an excellent library. Even I had to laugh at that one.
Merius slid into the chair beside mine, and Cyranea claimed the chair beside him as they kept talking. "Weirflynt, did you say?" she said, glancing over the scrap of foolscap he'd given her. "Spelled w-e-i-r-f-l-y-n-t? How odd--in my readings, I've seen one reference to a werefire, spelled w-e-r-e-f-i-r-e, but never a weirflynt."
"Lord Rankin thinks weirflynt is the original Corcin--that werefire you refer to could be a Sarns bastardization. Do you remember where you read it?" Merius demanded, his voice suddenly strident in the growing silence around the table.
Prince Segar cleared his throat loudly. Merius started and glanced around furtively as if he'd been caught stealing the crown jewels. Then with a strained smile, he turned to face the table, his notes rustling as he quickly perused them. Cyranea straightened and looked expectantly at the prince, her notes in a neat pile under her folded hands.
"Father," Merius hissed.
"What?"
"Do you have the number of peasants hanged last year for poaching?"
Sighing inwardly, I handed him my notes, knowing they would come back to me likely covered in ink stains and doodling and completely out of order. Some things never changed. I had no choice though--without my spectacles, I couldn't read them unless I wanted to squint the entire duration of the council.
Merius rifled through my notes till he found what he wanted. Then he glanced at the prince, who nodded, an odd smile flitting across his royal mouth. I supposed there were worse fates than amusing a prince, but I did wish Merius could be tidy for once.
A sudden cloak of authority squaring his shoulders, Merius intoned, "Last year, over a hundred peasants were hanged across the three provinces for poaching. This is a grave miscarriage of justice. Most of these men poached for game because their families were hungry."
"How do we know the knaves didn't lie?" Halbert of Casian interrupted.
"Because their children almost starved after the execution of their fathers and caretakers and ended up on the parish poor rolls." Merius tossed the foolscap down--he didn't need it, now that the passion of rhetoric had overtaken him. "Do you really think it's an efficient policy to execute a man for poaching, thus leaving his family to starve? If it happens in your parish, Halbert, you then become responsible for that family's upkeep if they have no other means of support. If I were a mercenary man, I think I'd rather let a man poach a few rabbits or grouse from my estate than have his family end up on the parish poor rolls."
"But poaching is against the law."
"Merius isn't arguing that it shouldn't be against the law," Cyranea said. "He's arguing that the crime warrants a lesser punishment than execution."
The table erupted in raised voices, which often happened after Cyranea joined the debate. Most of the councilors were still uneasy in her presence. After her father's execution, King Arian had granted Cyranea an honorary councilor's seat. Her renown as a scholar and her service to the crown in the matter of her father's treachery had overwhelmed the standard objections to her youth and sex. If she married in the future, her seat would revert to her husband of course, but so far she showed no signs of impending matrimony. Merius and Prince Segar had become her unofficial mentors on the council--she was always asking them questions. After consulting with Safire, Eden had said that Cyranea was most comfortable with Merius and Segar of all the councilors because they shared Cyranea's youth, she knew them from literature and philosophy salons (the public arenas where she most used her particular talents), and they were married men of position with no interest in her wealth or holdings. Between Safire's uncanny intuition and Eden's logical deduction, there was little that escaped those two regarding others' hidden motivations. Their gossiping had proven an unexpected boon.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I lifted my arms above my head and stretched--every sinew burned, tight as wet leather strips left out in the hot sun to dry. I had ridden Hunter back to court yesterday, a long, exhausting trip in the heat. Then Merius and I had spent twice as long training the men today to make up for missing the last several days. A soak in the palace baths had eased my aches, but that had been hours ago, and now it felt as if my very bones had been hammered into the hard oaken seat of my desk chair. I took off my spectacles and covered my aching eyes with my hands, the warm darkness of my cupped palms a momentary relief.
"Why don't you go to bed?" Eden remarked. She had been curled up in the armchair near the door for the last hour, reading a book of plays.
I lowered my hands and stared at the page of council notes in front of me. "I have to finish this."
"No you don't, not tonight." She banged the book shut and tossed it on the chair with a muffled thump, her silken shift rustling as she glided over to stand behind me. Her breath tickled the edges of my ears as I inhaled the exotic, heavy scent she wore. Her presence drugged me, as soporific as stepping into a chamber full of opium-laced pipe smoke. I shut my eyes and leaned my head back, my temple pillowed against her soft curves. She combed her hands through my hair, her thumbs massaging my neck.
"You've had a hard couple days. I don't think you should go to council tomorrow."
"But . . ."
"Merius said he could handle it when I asked him." She rubbed my shoulders, her strong hands so firm yet gentle that I exhaled in a loud sigh of pleasure.
"Vixen," I mumbled. "When did you talk to him?"
"He came by my chambers earlier to tell me congratulations. Then he asked if I needed anything, and I told him I thought you needed a rest. He agreed."
"Really? He's taken this so well--I still can't believe it."
"He's grown older, and you've grown younger--you were bound to meet in the middle at some point. That's what Safire said."
I leaned forward as her hands moved down my back. "Sounds like one of her ridiculous witch riddles."
The door creaked open then, and Randel lumbered in, carrying two pails of steaming hot water. Eden froze. After a moment, she stepped away, her hands sliding from my shoulders as Randel clattered around the washstand and privy closet.
"Damn it, Randel, can't you knock?" I demanded finally.
He looked at me, his brows knotted in puzzlement. "Sir, you said if the door was unlocked when I brought the water tonight that I could go ahead and come in."
"I did? Why the hell would I say that?"
"So I don't have to set the pails down every time to knock," he huffed.
Now that he mentioned it, I had a vague memory of saying something to that effect. God, it really had been a long day. "Sorry," I muttered finally. "I'd rather you knock in the future."
"All right, sir." He wiped his hands on his pants and turned to face us. "You know, you don't have to hide anything from me. And that Bridget--she's a bright girl. Both of us--we've known for some time. We know this is no marriage of convenience."
"You and Bridget talked about us?" Eden hissed.
"Just in passing one time, my lady. I don't hold with gossip, and she's a good sort, very loyal to you. But, my God, what did you expect? We're not deaf, dumb, and blind."
Eden looked on the verge of spitting some retort but bit her tongue when I clasped her hand. "Do you think anyone else has guessed, Randel?"
He shook his head
. "Maybe Lady Safire--I've noticed her give you some odd looks a few times . . ."
"I'm not concerned about her knowing. Or Merius--I told him the truth. I'm talking about other people." I turned in my chair and propped my elbow on the edge of the desk. My head was heavy with thoughts, so I rested my jaw on my hand, watching him. Eden's fingers tingled against my scalp as she tentatively resumed touching me.
He considered this, his eyes focused absently in the upper corner of the chamber above my desk. Then he met my gaze. "No, sir. I can't think of anything. If I'd been concerned about anyone in particular or heard any rumors, I would have said something before now, secret or no secret."
I tossed him a gold coin. "You're a good man, Randel."
He caught the coin easily and pocketed it with a slight smile. "Thank you and congratulations, sir, my lady," he said finally, bobbing his head at me and then at Eden. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No, thank you. Good night."
He nodded again, ducking around the bed and out the door. As soon as the latch clicked in his wake, Eden went over and turned the key in the lock. Then she padded back to me. Her hands came over my shoulders as she started loosening my doublet and shirt laces from behind with deft fingers.
"What was all that about?" she asked softly.
"I think Prince Segar suspects something."
"Oh. I wager he does. He's perceptive, and he and I have spent a lot of time together. He knew right after I returned from Sarneth that I was having a serious affair with someone."
I turned in my seat. "You told him?" I demanded.
Her eyes glowed, her fingers pausing on the edge of my shirt collar. "No, of course not. He just knew--we'd talked about my admirers before, and I never held back anything. Then all of a sudden I was quiet on the subject. Of course he gathered that my abrupt secrecy meant I was serious about someone. I don't think it matters, really, what he suspects--he's no prude like King Arian or the bishop, and the Landers are valuable to his plots."
"You were serious even then? I thought you seduced me on a lark."
She gave a husky chuckle. "Mordric, I risked a sea voyage to Sarneth in winter to catch you off your guard, and you still think it was a lark?"
"No, I don't suppose it was, now that I think about it. I just pray you never have cause to regret it." I twisted around, finally daring to rest my hand on her lower belly as I gripped her hip with my other hand. Through the thin silk, I could feel a slight, hard tautness I suspected was her womb. I looked up, my gaze locking with hers.
"This marriage isn't just about honor or protecting my reputation. You really want this child, don't you?" she whispered, her fingers curving around the back of my head.
"I hardly dare consider the possibility too much lest I jinx us, but yes, I do want it. Her."
Her mouth curled in a smile. "You think it's a girl?"
"I'd be happy with either, but I hope it's a girl. I don't think I could handle raising another Merius."
She laughed. "You might regret saying that. She could turn out wild like me, you know."
"I'd be glad if she turned out like you, my dear."
She swallowed, her fingers light as she brushed the hair back from my forehead. "I'm glad then I didn't take the bloodweed. I'm glad I told you."
"Are you certain? You have some difficult months ahead of you, then childbirth . . ." I trailed off, wondering how the hell we had gotten on this topic. I had vowed not to think about this before it happened, lest I fall into one of the equally vile traps labeled either despair or hope.
Her eyes flared, her lips drawing into a straight line. "You listen to me--I'm not Arilea. What happened to her--it's not going to happen to me. And even if it could, I'd still risk it. I'd risk anything for you."
I rose then and gathered her to me, her arms twining against my back as our mouths met. If this was convenience, it was the most intoxicating convenience I'd ever tasted.
Chapter Twenty-One--Merius
Corcin, Eastern Cormalen
September, last year
I sank into the studio arm chair with a sigh. After we had finished arms practice today, Father had summoned me back to his and Eden's chambers and foisted some heavy volumes of SerVerinese rhetoric on me with the ominous words, "See what you think of this maggot-pie." I dropped the books on the floor, the loud thumps startling both Dominic and Safire.
"Dear heart, honestly . . . you just made me streak this," Safire said crossly as she wiped the edge of her canvas with a paint-spattered rag. "Was that necessary?"
"Sorry." I stared at the books, now destined to become the bulk of my evening and likely several evenings to come. One had fallen open, the pages fluttering in the breeze from the open casement.
"Papa home!" Dominic exclaimed from the corner where he was surrounded by tottering stacks of wooden blocks I had cut out and sanded smooth for him a few months ago during the summer. He toddled over, his arms raised, and I grasped his sides and lifted him high in the air. He gurgled, enjoying the change in perspective as he looked down at me. Then I lowered him and raised him again, over and over until he erupted in a burbling laugh. Finally I set him down. He wobbled on his legs a little and stared at me, his eyes narrow and his mouth set in a thin-lipped frown just like an adult's. "No, Papa. No stop," he said finally. "No stop," he repeated more stridently when I didn't immediately pick him up again.
"You sure like saying the word no, don't you?" I tousled his hair and found myself engaged in a stare-down with my son, his unblinking gaze fixed on me. "Good God," I muttered. "Not even two years old yet, and you're trying to intimidate me." I picked him up and set him on my knee, if only to remind him who was the adult. He angled his head back and up, his unsmiling glare finding my eyes again. "Do you see this? You see what your son is doing?" I demanded.
Safire sighed a laugh, a tired sound. "If you think that's bad, you should have seen him earlier," she retorted. Her aura flared, and I smelled an acrid smoke, as if she'd burned through a whole forest of emotions today. She set her brush down and wiped her hands on her smock before she took it off and came around the easel. At the sound of her light footfalls, Dominic finally stopped glowering at me and turned his face toward her.
"Mama, here," he ordered, waving his arms.
"What did he do?" I asked as she took him from me. Holding Dominic, she settled on my lap and leaned back to give me a kiss. Her mouth tasted of apples--a whole bowl of them sat on the window sill--and I coaxed her lips open, my tongue flitting over hers. My hand snaked around her rump, my fingers bunching the cloth of her skirt over her upper thigh, and she chortled, swatting at me. The sweet spice of her cedar scent surrounded us, replacing the charred odor of her distress.
I noticed Dominic watching us intently, his head tilted back, and I quickly broke off the kiss. "Silva," he said. "Silva papa."
"No, Dominic. Sil-ver," Safire said. "Can you say silver?"
He turned his head to focus on her. "Sil-ver," he repeated, spitting out the syllables.
"Yes, silver. Very good."
He beamed his distinctive lopsided smile, a dimple in one cheek as he pressed his lips tightly together in a comical expression of great self-satisfaction. He reached up and touched her hair. "Mama purple."
"That's right." She grinned and kissed him on the forehead. "You're so smart."
He laughed and kicked. "Silver papa, mama purple!" he yelled. "Purple mama!"
"Uff--he kicks hard," Safire said. "I bet I'll have bruises." She leaned over and lowered Dominic to the floor. He scuttled to his blocks in the corner, still yelling about silver and purple as he knocked down all the stacks he'd apparently constructed earlier. The blocks made a merry clatter against the floorboards and wall, and he squealed laughter.
"He learned some more words today," I observed, watching as he sat down with a grunt and started to rebuild his block towers, serious concentration suddenly screwing up his face in an expression akin to Father's in the council chamber.
"
He learned more than that. I spanked the little devil at lunch," Safire said.
"Why? Isn't he a tad young for that--I mean, too young to connect the consequence with the behavior?"
She shook her head, her tongue pressed in her cheek as she met my gaze. "He's smart, Merius. It was just a couple swats on the rump, enough to let him know he was in serious trouble. He screeched about it for awhile, so I put him in his high chair and turned it toward the wall until he calmed down."
"What did he do?" I demanded, surprised at her sudden sternness. She was a born nurturer, often using her witch talents to soothe Dominic, and I had worried she wouldn't be able to discipline him when the time came. Of course, good discipline was a form of nurturing, I supposed.
"Evidee reached for his moon and stars cup, and he shouted 'mine' and struck her."
"Hard?"
"Hard enough to leave a red mark--he's strong for his age. It took Eden a good quarter hour to calm her down. Poor little thing was terrified."
"Wicked imp--he hit his aunt." I watched Dominic as he carefully set two blocks on their ends and then placed a third block across the tops, completely absorbed, no hint of the violence lurking under his chubby-cheeked exterior. "I never even had an aunt to hit."
Safire grinned. "Especially one younger than you."
"Don't remind me." I groaned. "I think Cyril suspects something. Father was livid today--apparently Cyril's wife saw Evidee and said something about how much she looked like me as a baby . . . Father said it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. All babies look alike, and how could she possibly remember what I looked like some twenty-odd years ago anyway?"
"Babies do not all look alike--sounds like something a man would say." Safire shook her head. "Evidee has all those auburn curls--of course she looks like you. Don't you think people who've known Mordric for years, Cyril especially, have figured it out by now?"
"If they have, I wish they wouldn't say anything to Father. Let him think he's keeping his secrets. You know how impossible he gets."
Phoenix Ashes (The Landers Saga Book 3) Page 51