by R. J. Price
“No,” Olea said, holding up a finger to shake it at Aren. “If you were mating Url, we would share blood. I may be related through blood to Av, but I don’t share blood with him. Our rank cannot help those removed. The same is said for any uncles of his who married his blood aunts. You can’t do it for them either. The throne, however, can, as we discovered when Mirmae linked to it.”
“How did she put it?” Iln muttered. “It keeps a detailed record of all the ranks of the past several generations, a record that rivals that of the archivist because it knows the dirty secrets the archivist knows, but cannot prove and therefore is not in the records itself.”
“It’s a chair,” Aren said.
“It’s landmark magic,” Olea corrected. “Never mind about what landmark magic is, we can teach you later on or anyone can fill you in on that. Suffice it to say, the throne is not the first thing queens of many generations have touched that has begun thinking for itself. The palace, before the remodelling, was said to have spoken to those who would listen.”
“And they were just going to throw away the stone,” Iln grumbled into her tea.
“I think for the sake of everyone we should teach you something that, given your position, would be very useful for you to have,” Olea said with a nod.
Aren watched as Olea stood and walked to the door where Wena and the other handmaid stood, awaiting requests. The queen spoke quietly to them, barely above a whisper, both nodded in response and she responded in kind by lightly touching each of their arms and thanking them.
Olea returned to her seat, picking up her tea once more. Iln blinked at Olea, glanced at the handmaids, then frowned at the other queen.
“No, Olea, her lords will throw a fit.”
“Who cares about her lords?” Olea asked. “It’s her magic.”
“She’s sitting right here,” Aren said loudly.
“The one thing my mother ever taught me about my magic, the most useful thing,” Olea said, raising a hand.
The lights went out, leaving only the fire in the hearth to illuminate the room. Olea chuckled lightly, then sighed. “Like an old lover, the palace recalls.”
“You can shut the lights off at the palace?” Aren squeaked out.
“You can as well, but what my mother taught me was how to divert or change the flow of my magic,” Olea said. “To the common eye at the palace I am simply a queen, my magic diverted to Castle Grey across all that land. But were I to receive word that there was a rebellion? I can shut the lights, water, and most importantly the heat off. Not only in Castle Grey, but in the city that surrounds it. Or in specific areas of the city. You can as well, you just have to learn.”
“But lights at the palace have always been lit,” she said. “It’s a right.”
“Where in the rights does it say there will be light?” Iln asked. “If the commoners—”
“Iln, it’s not just the commoners,” Olea said.
“—if the court wants lights, they should behave. Do you give a child a sweet who kicked you in the leg? Who got mud all over your fresh laundry? No. If a babe hits you with a rattle, what do you do?”
“Take the rattle away,” Aren said quietly.
“Why can't the one who sits the throne do the same?”
Chapter Nine
Late evening, Jer looked up at a knock on the door and watched as Cerlot slipped into his study. The man rankled Jer suddenly.
Av had told him that Cerlot and Para were now Bilgern, not Argnern. Jer had just finished filing the paperwork with the archivist to make the change official.
Frowning, Jer said, “Good evening, Lord Bilgern. What can I do for you?”
Escort him off palace grounds.
Jer swatted at whoever was whispering to him, recalling only after the motion that there was no one else in the study but the two of them. Cerlot frowned back at him, glanced at the door, then back to Jer. The man was obviously considering retreating, and that made Jer furious.
Longstanding abuse was what the healer had said about Anue. The same healer who was being called to court, her missive sitting on Jer’s desk for approval by the steward. Without that approval she would likely ignore the missive or come to court only to smack Av before leaving again.
That was why Jer was rankled by Cerlot’s presence. Para wouldn’t have dirtied her hands striking her children. She worked in more subtle ways.
“It’s true then?” Cerlot asked.
“Your estate is being held by the throne until your son comes of age. He is to be a ward of the palace once he is of age. How old is he now?”
“Fourteen,” Cerlot managed to get out.
Jer could hear the fear in the man’s voice. Telm had warned them that Cerlot was not as daft as he pretended to be. The question, however, was what Cerlot thought they knew about? Aren had said nothing, probably counting on Para to pass a message on, but Jer hadn’t seen the woman since her arrival at court. Probably drinking herself into an early grave, and the court was allowing it because they all knew what had happened, but didn’t speak of it.
“Send him next spring to begin his finishing,” Jer commanded.
“But the wine—we need him for the wine,” Cerlot said.
“Did I stutter?” he asked.
“No, Lord Jer.”
“I am steward of Lady Aren’s court. I will not be dismissed carelessly or questioned by a man whom my queen refuses to pass judgement on,” he said sternly. “In my experience, Lord Cerlot, that means whatever Aren has to say would end in your death and she is not yet ready to have a body weighing on her.”
“She has no relation to me, thus what would be my crime?” Cerlot said, rather bravely for a man alone with a warrior who had just threatened him. There was something cocky about the tone alone, like Cerlot had a way to walk free.
“Does Av need a crime?” Jer asked, then smiled slowly.
Not because he knew anything, but because he knew it unnerved commoners to no end to have ranks say something vague and then smile as if everyone in the room knew what was being talked about. His smile made Cerlot go a wonderful grey colour.
“As far as I am aware, you and your mate are welcome at court,” he continued, sitting forward in his seat. “She has been partaking in the drink, apparently not taking her audience with Lady Aren very well, so please control your mate’s drinking, Lord Cerlot. While your estate’s position is being kept quiet from the court, it is well known that Lady Para speaks loudly when”—Jer shuddered, something tingled through his fingers—“when she has partaken in too much drink. Did you feel that?”
“It almost felt like champagne bubbles,” Cerlot said, sounding utterly confused.
Jer stood quickly, ushering the man from his study and locking the door. “We can discuss the details of your estate at a later date, Lord Cerlot. Stay away from Lady Aren as well as Lady Anue and whatever you do, do not place yourself in the position of being alone with any of my relatives. They will skin you alive and I don’t need your son carrying a grudge against the throne because you got what you deserved. Best behaviour, or I will skin you myself. Understood?”
When he stopped speaking he realized that the words had come tumbling out, probably too fast for Cerlot to actually hear what he said.
“Nod,” he demanded.
Cerlot nodded. The man turned and strode away, almost managing to keep the tremble of fear under control.
Jer turned in the other direction and went in search of the tingle.
The closer he came to the source, the more people there were in the hallways. Lords and ladies stood beside servants and guards, all trying to look as if they had a reason for being there. If the servants remained in the hallway much longer it would sparkle from the idle cleaning everyone seemed to be doing.
He emerged at the front of the palace, through the formal greeting hall. The place where the barons should have come in through. The front was made up of a garden kept mainly for the public, but also to show off the wealth and health of the palace.
/> Jer spotted his father and brother, and approached them cautiously. The two were hiding behind a bush.
“What are you doing?” Jer asked as he approached, only to be yanked down by both of them as they shushed him. On the ground he stared up at the two angry faces and wondered what danger he could possibly pose. How had speaking caused that reaction?
There was a laugh on the other side of the bushes, then a giggle, and Aren’s voice rising up saying, “I’ll catch you, I will!”
The laugh had been a child’s, the giggle had been Aren’s. Jer frowned up at Av in question and his brother nodded quickly, releasing him.
The tingle was Aren’s happiness flooding the palace. The reason why it was like a tickle was because she was delighted. It had been so long since a queen had been delighted on palace grounds.
There was no one else in the gardens but for them and whoever Aren was chasing on the other side of the bush. Probably Mie and Anue, given the two voices that shrieked in mock terror and the giggling that followed shortly after.
Folk at court were likely puzzled by the feeling, but were drawn to it even as they were repelled. Drawn by Aren’s mirth but repelled by Av’s barely restrained anger. Av couldn’t feel the throne, but he could see the changes in other people. His feelings, the annoyance at being left out of the delight, kept others away.
Because they were afraid that if Aren knew someone watched her, she would stop giggling.
Jer brushed off his father’s hand, still gripping him tightly, and straightened his clothing. He was a steward now and was not about to spend his first day in the position hiding behind a bush like a peeper, gawking at children.
Gathering his courage, he stood and walked around the bushes, coming into the alcove where the three were playing. Aren was in a formal dress and Anue and Mie were in training clothing. All three froze when Jer appeared. He felt very much like a peeper then, hardly believing that Av, of all people, had been right and the mirth ended at the appearance of another person.
He was flustered; Aren should have trusted him. But then, he had never heard Aren laugh before, let alone giggle.
“Ah, this is what is going on,” he managed to get out. “My apologies, it almost sounded like a tickle monster had gotten loose.”
The line usually worked on the palace children, but Anue only looked wary. Mie was the one who screeched and ran at Jer, meaning to start something. Jer plucked his brother up, regretting it as he recalled Mie was no longer a young boy, twirled him around and set him down.
“Why did you really come, Jer?” Aren asked quietly.
He sighed. He didn’t want to bring it up because he didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to have to get his hands dirty so soon after taking his position. There was no telling how a hundred different people might respond to the news.
“Cerlot Bilgern has come to court. His mate’s been hiding, here. He wasn’t expected for several more days and may have come earlier than expected due to happenings at last year’s court.”
“Which means he was not warned,” the queen sighed out.
Jer nodded in response. Obviously his assumption that Para was to pass on a message was correct, which would also explain his gut reaction to the lord.
“If he didn’t know he was doing wrong, in this instance, we cannot very well go after him,” he said quietly. He looked at Anue, who was frowning back at him. “Have you told her yet?”
“Told me what?” Anue said, turning to Aren, who cringed in response. Aren was actually afraid of what Anue might think of her after learning what happened. No wonder Para had brought Anue to court.
“Does this have to do with the healer beating Av up?” Anue asked, turning to Jer.
It was his turn to cringe. The girl was maturing at an alarming rate, or at least her magic was. Anue had inadvertently given Jer the command to answer. Her skills were more focused than Aren’s were.
It was no wonder Anue believed she could make Para submit to her will.
“A healer beat Av up?” Aren asked.
“At the beginning of winter they took me to a healer and she looked me over and talked about what women need to know for certain things and then she dismissed me. She and Av ended up wrestling in the snow while the elders shouted and threw things at them for being stupid.”
“Who is this healer who fights with Av?” Aren demanded of Jer, who cringed again. He mustered his courage and tried to remain straight.
“Lady Aren, if you have a problem with Av wrestling with healers when you are not about, then you had best do us all the huge favour of mating the man before he starts humping the furniture like that damned lap dog that is always running the hallways and no one will place a claim on.”
The children, at least, thought it funny. Aren just went red as Jer made his retreat around the bush and straight past his brother and father. Both looked to be a mixture of surprised and amused.
That was the last time he walked in on Aren while she was giggling, that was for certain.
Chapter Ten
“Send a command to Lady Telm and Lady Olea,” Aren said as she and Wena walked towards the throne room.
“Saying what?” Wena asked when Aren did not continue.
“That they are to both be in my rooms after court—no exception. Warn the healers when you deliver the command to Telm. After they come into my rooms, warn the men. That is a meeting that is long overdue.” Aren pulled to a stop just outside the throne room and felt as if she were forgetting something.
“And warn the servants?” Wena asked.
“Yes, yes! I knew I was forgetting something. Start spreading that now. I want to do it sooner, rather than later.” She took a deep breath and ran her hands down her skirts. “How do I look?”
“Like a different queen,” her handmaid said. “Stand straight, remain tall and speak up. The rest will come to you, I’m sure. I’m off to warn the servants.”
Aren dragged in another breath and stepped into the throne room. All went silent as she entered the room with a slight limp. No helping that. Wena had taken her feet out from under her in training because she was weakened from her months of idleness.
They didn’t whisper about that, no. What Aren heard were whispers of the dress she wore. An imitation of the one she had brought to court, but of an entirely different colour. The tailor had created two richly purple dresses with the material that Em had purchased before her death. The ivory down the front was of a lighter shade, but the tailor claimed the other colouring had been due to age, not dying.
Then she heard the whisper of a bracelet.
Resisting the urge to look down, she took the few steps up to the throne, turned and sat, setting her arms on the armrests. There was the ‘tink’ of metal against wood. She looked down at the black band on her left wrist, all but forgotten. It had practically become a part of her, and yet despite being new, no one had mentioned the item to her.
Jer walked in as Aren sat, making eye contact with her as he did. She had no idea if she had to formally invite him to court. Telm was usually the one to tell her such things but the woman was still in the healer hall. She didn’t even know if she was able to go and ask for a report on Telm’s health. Was that going beyond her boundaries?
Coming to the steps just below the throne and his seat, Jer turned to the court.
“This year’s court is now open to session. Sitting the throne is Lady Aren Argnern, daughter of Eastern bloodlines and palace lands. All will remark her right to sit the throne and show due care for herself and her sister, Lady Anue Argnern.”
There was a small murmur through the court. Jer waited until it died down, allowing the lords and ladies present to explain to others why this announcement was shocking.
Because it left out Aren’s parents. Neither was present for the court, though court was rarely mandatory so there were a great number of people in the palace but not attending.
“Acting as Lady Aren’s steward is myself, Jer Hue. Acting as head of house
is Telm. Lords and Ladies, you all know the pair of us, as I have sat as mate to the throne for years. Telm has been at court since long before any of you were born.
“Lady Telm is unwell at this time. Anyone found to be overstepping their bounds will hear from me instead. She is a patient woman. I am neither a woman, nor am I patient. Do not mistake one for the other.
“The barons have come to court, all but Merkat of the South, to witness the mating ceremony of Lady Aren. A missive was dispatched this morning to invite Merkat to the ceremony. The high lords were sent missives before court concluded last year and should arrive shortly, with Lord Url, the high lord of the North, already being here and available to any who wish to discuss trade treaties or mating pairs.”
Jer turned and took the few steps to sit beside Aren. He leaned over to her.
“Now is when you make some sort of statement as to how the court will run,” he said barely above a whisper.
At least someone realized that she had no idea what she was doing.
Aren took in a small breath and glanced to Olea and Iln, who sat beside their mates. Both gave her an expectant look.
If ever she was going to be her own woman, now was the time to set the foundation. There would not be time after this to try to change what she had done. If she was not firm now, nothing would ever change.
She stood and clasped her hands before her, trying to be calm even as she fought back her own fear. She had been told that fear was the first emotion felt, because it was the easiest to bring about. A babe feared never seeing its mother’s face again each time she left it.
Aren feared what the court would do to her for being defiant.
“Let it be known that I am not Em,” she said, making certain she cast her voice as best she could. There had been very little practice the year before, despite all that had happened. “This is not her court. Nor is it the court of Mirmae Hue. This is my court and in my court you will not come to me with lies. You will not deny owing debt to another lord. You will not resist paying your dues and your taxes.