by Anne Leonard
“I know that,” she replied. “But . . .” Her voice trailed off. She drank more tea.
“You didn’t expect me to think of command that way, did you?” This time he did touch her, his finger searing her cheek. Her breath caught. She stared at him. For an instant they were entirely alone. She wanted him. He brought his hand down from her face.
She realized with a sudden sharp pang that her father would like Corin for his practicality. He would still haul her away.
“You just thought something sad,” he said, his voice low.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
After a pause, he said lightly, “I can take you to the kitchen if you really want it. But I wager you can’t cook any better than I can.”
“Can you cook at all?”
“Over a campfire. Does that count?”
“It’s more than I can do,” she admitted. She knew how to plan a meal within a budget, knew what was needed in what measures for many things, but the shopping and preparing were left to the cook. “On the other hand, I do know how to mix medicines.”
“Well, then, you’re not any more useless than I am,” he said.
“Women are always more useful than men,” she said, teasing back. Her imp took over, though it left her with enough discretion to whisper. “There’s only one thing men care about, after all.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “I beg your pardon. Just who was so determined last evening?”
If she kept on she would dig herself into a very deep hole. “Never mind,” she said, and blushed.
He was about to say something, but they both heard footsteps. It was a page with a sealed message for the prince. Tam watched Corin read it. His face barely changed. He refolded it and slid it to her. The boy looked startled.
“If you can’t hide surprise better than that you’ll never be a good courtier,” Corin said. Tam was sure he was deliberately not hiding his own impatience. “Go.” He waved the boy away.
Tam waited until they were alone to read. It was abrupt. Vielle has fallen. We must act now. The capital of Argondy. Only the king would have written to him so. It had been a public gesture of trust to give her that message regardless of what it said. No wonder the boy had been startled.
She gave it back and said, “What does it mean will happen?” It did not seem real.
He picked the seal off and began to fold the paper into smaller and smaller squares. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “For you, maybe nothing. Don’t go anywhere I can’t find you. I will tell you as soon as I can.” He drained his cup and set it down with a decisive motion. “Don’t get up.” He stood.
I love you, she thought at him.
His face softened. He leaned over and kissed her firmly and improperly on the lips. “Don’t worry,” he said.
She stayed a while longer, watching the movement of the sun on the grass, nibbling at the food. When she finished she wiped her face with the napkin until it had to be immaculate and made sure there were no crumbs on her dress before she stood. As soon as she left the room the gossip would spread like pox, she had never had to be more perfect. She would not subject herself to this for any other person.
The comb was only wood, but it was quite beautiful, glossy and reddish and finely grained. The handle was inset with a filigree of a running horse in gold. “When did he give you this?” Tam asked.
“Yesterday,” Jenet answered.
“It will be a ring next.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Yes. You have pretty hair, he must be desperate to touch it. Thus a comb.”
Jenet looked happy, then said despairingly, “But sometimes he’s so dull. How could I marry a man I couldn’t talk to? I don’t have to love my husband, but he shouldn’t bore me. If I married him I should have to have ever so many scandalous affairs.”
Jenet could not possibly mean the last sentence, she was far too proper, but Tam heard a real fear behind it. “Well, what have you tried to talk to him about?”
They were in Jenet’s sitting room, all pale green and silver. Tam had a book with her, her place marked with the pass. The window was on the garden side of the palace, and birds were singing outside even though it was early afternoon and hot. They were drinking a sweet pink juice that had been iced; moisture was beading on the silver cups. Tam did not expect much of the answer; she remembered Darrin’s tendency toward pompousness.
“Oh, he goes on at length about his land and his art collection and hunting. He has his county to administer, but he never talks about that. I imagine he thinks I would be bored or wouldn’t understand. Every so often he asks me something about myself and then pays no attention to the answer. It’s not so bad when we’re alone, but that hardly ever happens.”
“That doesn’t sound promising,” Tam admitted.
“I know,” Jenet said, and lapsed into a glum silence.
“Suppose he’s quite interesting in, well, other ways,” Tam suggested slyly, to see what would happen. Then she remembered the night before and felt herself blush.
Jenet turned slightly pinker and covered her mouth, coughed. Although they were completely alone, she whispered, “He seems to, um, have potential.”
“Is it a good enough match for him to be serious?”
“Yes.”
“Then you shouldn’t encourage him if you don’t want to marry him,” Tam said.
“I know. But aren’t they all like that? How do you pick one over the other in the end?”
“Well, if you want to marry a rich man with a title you have to expect he will be most interested in himself. You have the leisure of falling in love afterward.”
“Oh, Tam, don’t say things like that, it’s so melancholic.”
“Who are his friends? Are they any better?” If they were all like the two bored young men she had met, there was not much hope in them either.
“A few. But none of them are half so good-looking.”
“Can’t you complain to one of them and see if Darrin gets the message? He may just be trying to impress you, you know.”
“No,” Jenet said. “Even if it were proper, I’m too bashful. I expect you could if you were in my place, you’re much bolder.”
“Perhaps I shall. I will dance with him and tell him everything he’s doing wrong.”
“No! Don’t! You’re not serious, are you?”
“Not unless you want me to be,” Tam said, laughing. “It wouldn’t likely do any good anyway, Jenet, he wouldn’t listen to me. You’ll just have to get him alone and be very interesting yourself. I’m sure he is trying his best for you.”
“I hope so.” She leaned forward and said, “And yourself? Are things quite all right between you and your own gentleman?”
“Quite,” said Tam, thinking what an understatement it was. “He had some business to attend to this afternoon.”
“He will be back for the ball, though?”
“Yes, though I may have to go down before him to watch the opening. Men always take longer than they think they will getting ready.” She was becoming an experienced liar.
“That they do,” said Jenet. She refilled their cups. “You’re radiantly happy, you know. He must care for you tremendously.”
Water bubbled outside somewhere. No one would ever think a war was coming. Tam had heard nothing further from Corin, which would worry her if she allowed herself to think too much on it.
“Is a ball at court much different from an ordinary ball?” she asked.
“The dances are the same,” Jenet said. “And so are the rules. But it’s grander. With Princess Tai not here it’s anyone’s guess who will be the darling of the ball.”
Not me, Tam thought. She did not say it. Once she was seen with Corin her friendship would be worth cultivating. She thought of backing out. They had been seen last night in the ha
lls, this morning in the Sun Room, but not by people who knew her name. After tonight everyone would know. She could not refuse to dance with other men lest she be seen either as haughtily proud or touchingly besotted. He had to know that. She remembered his hands on her last night and quickly sipped her drink.
Jenet said, “You’re beautiful enough it could be you, you know.”
“I hope not,” Tam said, startled. “Perhaps I had better wear a sack.”
“It wouldn’t suit your coloring,” Jenet said with a straight face.
Tam stared at her until she cracked and began to giggle. Tam said, “I didn’t know you could be that droll. Does Darrin?”
“No.”
“Show him. That will make him notice you. If he really loves you he will like it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do. Then you’ll find out if he wants you or just your property.”
Jenet looked down. She had not said anything when Elyn darted in and said, “Beware, Alina’s on her way to talk to you. Hello, Tam, I don’t think you can run either.”
As quickly as that she had moved from outside to inside, from stranger to conspirator. Alina was the common enemy. Had Jenet and Elyn always disliked her, or had there been a shift of allegiances?
But there was no way to escape Alina now. Jenet said, “Do join us, Elyn,” and brought two more cups over to the low marble-topped table.
“That’s killing the messenger, Jenet,” said Tam, which brought a polite false gasp from Jenet and an impolite stifled laugh from Elyn.
Elyn sat down and adjusted her dress. “Are you getting ready for tonight yet, my dears?”
They spoke together, stopped. Before either of them could speak clearly again, Alina appeared. “My goodness, Elyn, you needn’t have been in—” She saw Tam and stopped midsentence. “Tam, dear,” she said, coming forward to peck her cheek. “How nice to see you.” This despite having insinuated the night before that Tam’s gentleman must be poor if he could offer nothing but a walk. (There are some smaller theaters, you know, where one needn’t pay as much.) “I thought perhaps you were abandoning us forever last evening.”
Tam said, “Oh, not at all.” She resisted the impulse to give an explanation for anything or to rise to the suggestion of impropriety. She would try to be polite. “That’s a lovely necklace you’re wearing, is it new?”
It was in fact pretty, if ordinary—a delicate gold chain set with an occasional round diamond. A pendant with a very large diamond at the end hung several inches down. Quite the show of wealth. “Oh yes,” Alina said, her hand coming up to touch the necklace. There was an incongruous bruise on the underside of her wrist. “It was a gift.”
“From an admirer?”
Jenet nudged Tam as if to say, Don’t get her started, but it was too late. “Yes. I do believe he is quite fond of me.”
“I’m sure with very good reason,” Tam said, unable to resist taking a page from Corin’s book and sweeping her eyes up and down Alina’s snug satin dress. Alina did not blush, if she even noticed. “Will he be escorting you tonight?”
“Yes. And yourself?”
Her good intentions disintegrated. “Your friend can hardly take both of us, I am afraid I will have to settle for someone lesser.”
“Quite,” said Alina coldly. She faced the others. “Jenet, may I ask your maid to do my hair? After she’s done yours, of course? Mine just can’t do the style I want for the ball without it going crooked.”
“Certainly,” Jenet said, sounding not at all certain.
“It must be dreadful to have a maid you can’t rely on,” Tam said. She knew it was a mistake to say it as the words came out.
“I can rely on her for most things. It’s certainly better than having no maid at all.”
“I won’t argue your experience on that point,” Tam said. She was going to have to leave before something worse rolled off her tongue.
Elyn hastily filled Alina’s cup and said, “Who’s to open the ball with the prince, do you know?” A harmless enough question and a reasonable change of subject. Tam prepared herself.
“I’ve no idea,” Jenet said, sounding bored. “What did you ever do about your shoes, Elyn?”
Elyn refused to be distracted. “He breakfasted with someone in the Sun Room this morning. Not Seana, everyone knows it’s over but her.”
Tam wished Elyn would be quiet. Sooner or later she was going to say something Tam didn’t want to hear. It wouldn’t even necessarily be about Corin; Elyn was the sort of person who delighted in recounting the embarrassments of others.
“Who?” asked Alina.
“My friend didn’t know her. And of course he couldn’t describe her, he’s a man. Apparently Corin is quite smitten. My friend said he kissed her right there.”
Tam expected to see anger or jealousy or maybe even hurt on Alina’s face. Instead, the expression that flickered across before it was covered by unconcern was fear. It puzzled her so much that she did not even have to suppress her own reaction to Elyn’s statement.
She stood up as Elyn said, “They didn’t come together, though.” The room was getting stuffy with four people in it. She opened the window a few inches wider to let in more breeze, warm though it was, and leaned out briefly before returning to her seat.
Elyn said, “Are you going to be exclusive to your friend, Alina, or will you dance with others?”
“That will depend on who asks me,” Alina answered with her too-bright smile. “And yourself?”
“Oh goodness, what’s the fun in dancing with just one man?” She sighed. “The best dancers aren’t always the best-looking. I may have to toss a coin. What about you, Tam? Are you going to try to keep your secret by dancing with a dozen different men?”
“That’s an excellent idea,” Tam said. “Will you line them up for me?”
Elyn and Jenet both laughed, and Jenet said, “Which dress will you wear?”
“The blue one, with the seed pearl trim,” she answered, thankful for an innocuous topic. She reached for her drink.
“Rose is much more fashionable this year,” remarked Alina. “As a color, not in hair.” Tam nearly knocked over the cup with suppressing her laughter.
“Rose doesn’t match my eyes,” she said. She saw a page at the door. The boy could not have picked a better time.
His message was for Jenet. She turned color as she read it. “He wants a private interview after the first dance,” she said when she was done.
“Lucky girl,” Elyn said, embracing her.
They were still exclaiming about it when a soldier appeared at the door. He was dressed in a formal uniform, not the usual plain attire of the men on duty. Everyone went unnaturally silent. Tam hoped fervently that he would not single her out. But if he was not bringing a message from Corin for her, it could only be something worse.
He said, “My ladies, His Majesty commands you to the Great Hall at once to hear him speak.” He bowed and departed before any of them replied.
Tam did not join in the rush of speculation that followed. She knew what it was about. Vielle has fallen. The war was going to be declared. She picked up her book.
“Oh,” said Alina, “that’s yours. Are commoners allowed to take things out now? I hadn’t heard.”
Jenet and Elyn went silent. Tam said, “You’re hanging by a thread, Alina, don’t push me any further. Thank you for the hospitality, Jenet.” She stalked out.
Tam was still seething when she reached the Great Hall. It was already full and getting fuller. Not just with courtiers, either—there were servants and clerks and various officials packed together in the back. The doors were flung wide-open, letting air move. There seemed to be guards everywhere. The ceiling shone with iridescence that moved across the surface like oil on water. The floor and lower part of the walls were a handsome pale marble, t
he upper part of the walls pearly gold paint. Banners, bright and forceful, hung from the balcony. On the floor underneath it the eagle crest of the royal house had been worked in tile. It was not a room for casual chitchat. She wondered how old it was.
She did not see anyone she knew, although there were faces she recognized. On the balcony above a number of soldiers were standing very alertly. Bron was among them. He raised his hand ever so slightly, gesturing her toward the nearest door, then stepped back out of her sight. She went to the door and stood as inconspicuously out of the way as possible, not too close to the guards. Cina came in from the opposite side but was talking to someone and did not appear to see Tam.
A few minutes later a page came by and quickly, without lingering, put a message into her hand. It was as discreet as it could be, she supposed.
The message was not in Corin’s hand, but the words were his. You needn’t stay. But if you do, come to the robing room afterward. It had an obviously hasty seal on it. In case a guard wanted to send her away, no doubt. Or keep her from leaving.
She looked around and saw that Cina had spotted her. She acknowledged her with a small nod. Too many people stood between them for either to make her way easily to the other. But it meant she could not very well walk out. Cina would want to talk to her afterward, she would have to explain about that too. Word had to have made it to Cina by now that Tam was seeing somebody. Well, perhaps it didn’t matter if she found out here instead of at the ball. It would save a scene. She sighed too audibly.
People were talking to one another in low voices; the seriousness of what was happening had permeated them. She was near the front, only a few rows of people ahead of her, and the presence of the guards at the door had thinned the space. No one wanted to be close to an armed man. She could see the balcony perfectly.
Bron caught her eye again. He was, she realized, observing the people near her very acutely. Guarding her. She would have liked to draw back into the crowd and watch with ordinary anonymity, but she was quite certain she was not supposed to. It could hardly be done inconspicuously now. She was standing close to the coronation portrait of Aram; when she looked at it this time, she saw innocence. Corin looked much more like the Aram she had met than he did like that young man who had been crowned.