by Moira Katson
“I sense her family might not wish only to place a commoner on the throne.” Alleyne looked down at her book. “Not to speak ill of my betters, my lord.”
“No, I think you have the right of it. They will be reminding themselves that bastard children have inherited the throne before. Never when there was a legitimate heir, of course, but …” Baradun sighed. “Though I pity Lady Dianne. I think they might be eager enough to push her into his bed that they will not stop to consider what she wants.”
Alleyne felt something that seemed very much like a stab of jealousy at the thought. “Has Darion taken mistresses from within the court?”
“Not that I know of.” Baradun lifted a shoulder. “He might simply be discreet. The gods know there have been enough affairs in royal marriages. Empress Cecille’s consort and her lover were even rumored to be on friendly terms. A bygone age, perhaps, but if there is a legitimate heir and the marriage was made for alliance and not passion …” He sighed again and smoothed his beard. “But that is not what this is, I think. That poor girl—both of them.”
“You truly pity them.”
“To tell the truth, I never thought much of it when I was a younger man.” Baradun looked discomfited. “I only had Teros, and I knew that any woman with her sights on Darion would not look twice at a jumped-up merchant. But he made a good match, in the end, and they like one another well enough. They have a daughter now, and … I see the way the nobility pushes their daughters into Darion’s way. I would not have my granddaughter used so.”
“She is lucky to have you as the head of your household, then.”
“Perhaps.” Baradun gave a rueful smile. “What if it had been a woman who sat on the throne? Might I have used Teros? I do not like to think so, but perhaps my morality would be more malleable than I like to think.”
There was a knock at the door and Baradun’s steward was coming from the study to open it when he was pushed back out of the way by the advance of a guardsman in livery of gold and deep blue. The guardsman bowed, but without any of the courtesy of the Imperial Guard Captain.
“The Lady Nerea of Mikandros,” he announced curtly.
Alleyne stood. She saw Baradun’s sudden alertness. At the corner of the room, Margery appeared. Her eyes were wide.
Nerea swept into the room, bringing the faint scent of a perfume at once sweet and cold; it reminded Alleyne of the icy mountain peaks she had once seen in her youth. The woman’s brown hair was plaited as elaborately as Alleyne’s, though hers was dressed with rubies, and she wore a gown of a glowing red that set off her pale skin.
“Lord Baradun.” She smiled and held her hand out to be kissed. “Would you mind terribly if I were to speak with Melisande in private? Perhaps in your study?”
Alleyne saw the instinctive denial on his lips and hastened to intervene. “I would be honored to speak with you, Lady Nerea. Thank you for coming to visit me.”
Baradun cleared his throat and gestured to the study. “Shall I send refreshments? Lady Nerea, as I recall, you are fond of—”
“There is no need, my lord.” Her smile was brilliant. “I shall only be a moment.” She looped her arm through Alleyne’s and drew her away, into the study.
The door had barely closed behind them before her hand tangled in Alleyne’s hair to jerk her close. Her eyes were narrowed; satisfaction flickered there as Alleyne struggled not to give a cry of pain.
“What is your plan?”
“My lady!”
“Have you seduced the Truthspeaker, then?” Nerea’s fingers tightened. “Answer me, you little whore.”
The sharp note of disgust was enough to bring Alleyne back to herself. “I’ve done no such thing.”
“No?” Nerea released her suddenly. She looked down to where Alleyne had dropped to her knees on the carpet. “Because it seems to me that you were clever enough to know you couldn’t have him throw all the rest of them out. And because you’re that clever, you think you have what it takes to win him.”
“I do not.” She spoke truly.
Nerea paused. For the first time, uncertainty touched those lovely features.
“My lady, I never bore you ill will.” Alleyne straightened her back. She did not rise from where she knelt; such feigned submission might keep Nerea’s temper from flaring out of control once more. “I did not know of Darion’s involvement with you until I came here.”
“Darion.” Nerea shaped the word with a bitter twist to her mouth. “You think you are worthy of saying his name?”
She had thought she was choosing her words so carefully, and that made her mistake all the more glaring. Alleyne looked down at her hands. “My lady, I apologize.”
“Better you leave than apologize,” Nerea said, low and furious. “What are you still doing here?”
She did not have the first idea how to answer that. What did Nerea mean by such a question?
“Answer me!” The shout was sudden. Nerea moved to grab Alleyne’s hair once more, and Alleyne only just scrambled away in time. They circled the desk, eyes locked. “Answer me,” Nerea repeated. Her chest was heaving. “Why are you still here?”
“Because it is not over yet, my lady.” Alleyne stood as tall as she dared.
Nerea stopped at that. “It should have been,” she said finally. “Today. It all should have ended today.” She shook her head, eyes averted. “Now I must continue to see you,” she said furiously. “I must hear of him laughing with you, coming to see you against all propriety—”
The pity was as unwanted as it was sudden. Alleyne saw the unfriendly eyes of the court once more. She remembered how they had looked at her today, seeking any pretense to tear her to pieces. They must have looked at Nerea like that as well—and in the end, Nerea had fallen, for no reason she could understand. She had endured their spite while she had Darion’s friendship, and now she no longer had his protection while she endured the court’s glee.
“Did you love him?” Alleyne asked softly.
Nerea’s head jerked up. Her face was pale. “How dare you?” She was shaking. “How dare you ask me that? You say you are not here to shame me, and you ask me such a thing?”
“I …” Alleyne shook her head. “I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered. “I swear it. I didn’t.” It had never occurred to her that anyone might love Darion, that anyone might truly mourn him when he was gone. If Nerea loved him, Alleyne would now break her heart twice—first with Darion’s esteem, and then with his death.
In the silence, Nerea lifted her head. She was exquisite; she was regal.
“Royal blood flows in my veins,” she said quietly. “I am descended from one of the most ancient houses in the realm, noble before Aiqasal even existed. My forbears have been consorts to four thrones. I was born to be consort. I was born to reclaim Aiqasal’s glory. And what are you?” Her voice had changed. “You are nothing. You are exactly what they named you, you are the daughter of ashes and filth.” Her lovely face had twisted. “If you had only—” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Remember what you are,” she said finally. “Remember it for your whole, pitiful life. Remember that you are nothing, that you are bad luck. Remember that you destroyed him.”
She did not wait for an answer. She left with her head held high and a sweet-voiced farewell to Baradun, and Alleyne swayed where she stood. The woman’s spite was jarring against her court manners.
I never meant to hurt you. But she had, and she would again. Before this was done, she would leave the court in ruins.
Alleyne swallowed. She was a daughter of ashes. She had become nothing. She, of all people, knew the toll she would take when she killed Darion. Her fingers went to her leg where the knife was still held in place. The tightness of the leather ached now and she had to fight the urge to tear away the bindings and hurl the knife away from herself.
None of them had spoken for her, she told herself. She would not trouble herself for any of them. That would be nothing more than weakness.
Chapter
Thirty-One
Margery burst into the room the next day, eyes wide, as Baradun and Alleyne were reading. She stopped when she saw Baradun, and sank into a polite curtsy as he turned to look at her over his shoulder.
“You look as if you’ve heard something of interest,” he suggested.
Margery recovered quickly. “A detail that might benefit us. His Majesty’s favorite flower—myrtle. I thought we could weave them into Melisande’s hair, in case he came to find her.”
Baradun considered. “As long as it does not look too calculated.” He looked over at the clock stood. “I leave that to your discretion. I must go, I have been asked to a meeting with Lord Nicolaides.”
Alleyne looked up wordlessly. She had not spoken of the prior day’s meeting, but the others had heard her cry of pain, and had seen the braids pulled free where Nerea had grabbed Alleyne by the hair. There had been no discussion, however; what could be done?
Now, Baradun smiled wryly. “I wonder at the invitation as well, though I can hardly refuse it. I would place good odds on being asked to send you back to the streets. The Mikandros family lacks neither money nor influence. I am sure their offer will be very sweet.”
“What will you say?” She had little patience for subtlety any longer.
“It does not matter what I say.” Baradun gave a small smile. “Nothing I say will remove Darion’s memory of you. The Emperor is a man of strong will. If it is you he wants, no noble will stand in his way.” He nodded to the book she held. “How are your studies?”
“Very good, my lord. I have made it to the Ferier’s account of the Second Alleric War.”
“You are making very quick progress.” His smile was warm. “Let me know what you think of it. I never liked Ferier, myself. I rather preferred Horan, speaking of the crush and glory of battle.”
He left with a little nod to each of them, and Alleyne stared after him. “Every time I think I understand him he surprises me,” she told Margery.
Margery didn’t bother with that. “I’ve heard a rumor about your parents.”
“What is it? What did you hear?” Alleyne had no memory of getting up or crossing the room, but she was at Margery’s side, clutching the woman’s hands in her own. Her heart beat wildly.
“You didn’t tell me your mother was a mage,” Margery said. She shook her head. “I’d have found it sooner if you’d told me that.”
“I … didn’t know.” Alleyne shook her head. Her mother, a mage? She could not remember very much, but surely she would remember something so important. She would have to ask Almeric. “Are you sure? What does that have to do with anything?”
“You know Darion’s father didn’t like magic, aye?”
“I’d heard that, but I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Oh, for—didn’t ye wonder why there weren’t many at court? Didn’t ye wonder why people whisper about it when they say Nerea might be a mage?”
“I … hadn’t.” Alleyne hunched her shoulders and shook her head. Magic was famously dangerous to study. It was rare beyond the third wall, where the inhabitants were highly practical, and Alleyne had assumed it was simply too dangerous for the taste of the pampered, sheltered nobles. She shook her head now. “So Remos didn’t like magic. What of it? He was gone by then.”
“Aye, but they’d all learned to stay hidden, which makes it a mite more difficult to find out. Anyways, one of the older maids got in her cups, and I asked her about it.”
Alleyne took refuge in amusement. “Were you the one filling the cup?” She flicked her skirts as she sat once more.
Margery watched with a professional’s eye. “You’re getting better at that. And I might have been the one pouring the wine. What of it?”
“Thank you.” Alleyne gave her an impish smile.
Margery was startled into a laugh. She sobered when she saw the tension running through Alleyne, a bowstring quivering for release. “There was a rumor at the time,” she said softly. “Quickly quieted, but all the servants heard it. It said your parents weren’t guilty at all, that it was a struggle for power between mages, and your parents lost. The other one gave the Emperor false information.”
“Nerea,” Alleyne said at once.
Margery gave her a look. “Nerea was scarce older than yer brother. If anyone could form such plots at that age, it’d be her—but I’d not think so. The mage they spoke of was powerful, more powerful than anyone in generations, and ruthless with it.”
“Who, then?”
“No one knows.” Margery shook her head in frustration. “She swore to me then that no one knew—though someone must have, aye, to spread the rumor? But she said something else of interest: that the plot to take both thrones was real enough, and made by mages. Your parents opposed it and … well, then they knew too much, didn’t they?” She caught sight of Alleyne’s white face. “What is it?”
It was a long moment until Alleyne could bring herself to speak. “My mother said she did it.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the heat. She could feel her mother’s icy fingers on her cheeks; a legacy of the dungeons, she supposed. “She said she and my father had done a very bad thing and they needed to go away for a while.” Her hands tangled in her hair. “What if it’s none of this, what if they did it?”
The question had been building inside her for days.
“You know they didn’t,” Margery reassured her.
“I don’t know that. You said someone can love their children and hug them and be kind to them and still plot treason. I was seven, Margery, I didn’t know anything. What if they did it? She said they did. I’ve known for years that she said so. What if she was telling the truth?”
Margery shook her head. “Why would she want to overthrow the throne?”
“How should I know? I didn’t even know she was a mage!” Alleyne whirled away.
“There were soldiers there, when she told you?” Margery’s voice came from far away.
“Yes. What of it?”
“She would have had to say so, then. A traitor must confess their guilt. The soldiers’d be there to make sure she didn’t try to pass you a message saying otherwise.”
Something flashed in Alleyne’s mind. A message. Had her mother tried to pass her a message of some sort? For a moment, she could almost sense it, some fleeting glimpse of the memory she had seen so many nights in her dreams, and something long missed—
The thought was gone. She sank back down into the chair, cradling her elbows. “What else did you learn?”
“Nothing.” Margery came to her side; her touch was light on Alleyne’s shoulder, a small comfort. “I will learn what I can.”
“You shouldn’t.” Alleyne gathered her wits about her. She looked up. “It’s too dangerous. It was dangerous before, and now there is word of a mage.”
“I’m not scared of any mage.” Margery looked contemptuous.
“You should be. What was it you said? The most powerful in generations, and ruthless with it? Margery, the palace is full of people who would hurt you simply for being Baradun’s servant, for helping me. This would be dangerous even without the magic.”
Margery lifted one shoulder. “Just another way of dying.” She gave a wry smile.
Alleyne did not smile back; she was seized by a sudden fear. “Promise me, Margery. Promise me you won’t go looking. I should never have asked for your help.”
“Aye, and how were ye going to find the information? Go striding into the council chambers and command them to give it up?” Margery shook her blonde head. “They lie like they breathe, they’d never admit it. If you want justice for your parents, you need me.”
“Then maybe it isn’t worth it.”
Margery’s face softened. She rearranged a ribbon in Alleyne’s hair, adjusted the fall of the simple robes. “Then why did you come?” she asked finally. “Isn’t justice what drives you?”
“Yes, but …” But justice meant something very different from what she had told Margery.
“I’ll find the mage,” Margery promised her. “And before ye argue—you know there’s a truthspeaker in the palace, misusing his talents to bring ruin to the Emperor. If there was another one plotting against both thrones, don’t we need to find them, too?”
She hadn’t thought of that. Alleyne chewed her lip. “Yes,” she admitted. “But, be careful.”
“I’m always careful. You be careful.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means don’t ask any questions, yourself. You’re as subtle as a boar.”
“I made you believe I was seeking out Jarin to be taken out of the running,” Alleyne pointed out.
“I knew ye’d bring that up. But ye’re being watched too closely now. Don’t say a word. Just smile. I’ll find the mage.”
“And the assassin?”
Margery frowned. “I haven’t heard even a whisper of that,” she admitted. “I’d think I would have—someone new, someone untrustworthy. Ye can usually spot a killer.”
“They said the assassin was already in the palace,” Alleyne insisted.
“Aye, I know it. But …” Margery shook her head. “I’ll find out what I can,” she said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Alleyne went to see Almeric that night. She did not dare wait for Margery to find more information. If nothing else, her time inside the palace had taught her that any illusion of balance, the delicate stability of alliances, might shift at a moment’s notice. The palace was a city of beautiful traps, drawing her deeper in even as it denied her the one, perfect chance she sought.
She swore to herself that she would not fail a second time. When the plot was exposed, she would do what she must.
She was glad to see Almeric, relieved by the sight of his familiar face and his lanky frame as he ducked into a room near the stables. He, however, was less pleased. “You sent the maid,” he said shortly.
“Yes.” She knew how to contact him, but had not dared deliver the message herself, not after being shown off to the court. Her face was known now; Margery had been the safer choice.