Rising from Dust (Light from Aphelion Book 1)

by Carlsson, Martine

  “Were you careful with the costs?” Selen asked. He was not sure he wanted to think of dancing anymore.

  “We did the best we could. I even went to the undercrofts in search of materials we could reuse. You will have a big surprise.” He grinned. “You can also tell Louis that the situation in the countryside is improving. People are returning from the Iron Marches and the West. It will take time, but the communities will reform and life will start again.”

  “Any news from Embermire and Millhaven?” Selen asked.

  “I don’t know about Embermire, but Millhaven has had hard times with the flow of refugees from Earthfell, and some nobles complain about the new decrees. However, the Countess Khorkina supports Louis’s measures. It is a fact that the nobles of Millhaven have been more active in the war than the ones here. They won’t pay the same price. Besides, they have their gold mines.” Lissandro piled the books, blew the candle in the lantern, and closed the ink flask. He took the book about the dancing and joined him.

  Selen walked towards the door, Lissandro following on his heels. “There is something I would like to ask you, Lilo,” Selen said. He felt uneasy about it, but he had pondered the question. “I would like to know Louis’s name.”

  “If he hasn’t told you, it’s because he doesn’t want you to know. I’m sorry. I can tell you all I know about Louis, but not that. I can’t betray him,” Lissandro answered. He locked the door behind them and walked down the steps.

  Selen followed him. “But it’s ridiculous…”

  “Yes, I know.” Lissandro stopped and turned to him. “Listen, when I told you last time that you didn’t know him, it was not to offend you. You do know him as a person, more than anyone. I know who he was, at least, what he did. Louis is a good man, but he is…he won’t stop. Whatever the cost.” Lissandro stared at him. “It won’t end well, Selen.”

  Selen half smiled. “I will follow him to the grave.”

  There was sadness in Lissandro’s eyes. He shook his head and kept on walking. At the bottom of the stairs, Selen took his leave.

  His friend was not in the solar. Selen opened the painted, carved wardrobe. The nobles would probably come in their best outfits, as would the princes. He had to be at his best not to shame his friends. He put on white pants, a white shirt, and chose a knee-length, crimson brocade houppelande, slit from the waist, with long, opened sleeves trimmed with ermine. The embroidery made the cloth tight to the chest and the waist. Still, he buckled a large, carved leather belt over it. The soft straps flapped against his legs. He completed his outfit with dark leather, high-heeled boots that ended above the knees. On his head, he decided to wear the chain he had worn during the coronation. He found a model whose hairpin was shaped like tree leaves. Once he was dressed, he picked up one of his history books and sat on a fauteuil.

  A few minutes later, Louis entered the solar. “Oh Lord…” his friend whispered, staring at him.

  Selen squirmed. “Should I change?” Under the persistent gaze of his friend, he felt uncomfortable.

  “No! It’s just that…you put the level quite high, and as the king, I should give the best impression. Not that I want to, but it’s a must in such occasions.” Louis headed to the wardrobe.

  “I am sure we can find something,” Selen said, joining him. Louis had already picked dark blue pants and a white shirt. Selen frowned at him. “Something better.”

  “Something with heels,” Louis mumbled.

  Louis picked up a long, royal blue brocade vest with split, dagged sleeves. The collar rose high behind the neck. The front was adorned with a double line of embossed, silver buttons. Louis put the clothes on. The vest fit perfectly on his chest. With the high collar, his hair fell on the front to his collarbones like a lion’s mane. Around his waist, he tied a long, light blue silk belt, which fell on the side of his thigh.

  “Something like that,” Selen sighed with amazement and felt the stirring of a feeling he would keep for later. He handed Louis a pair of short, high-heeled, leather boots.

  “Oh, musketeer’s boots.” Louis put them on. His shoulder reached Selen’s again. Louis turned to him and grinned. “I think we are ready.”

  They left the solar. Lissandro waited for them in the garden.

  “Jesus. In two hundred years, I have never seen such an amazing sight,” Lissandro chuckled. He wore a green embroidered doublet over grey pants. He had tied two long feathers in his hair, which matched its color of dark honey perfectly.

  “You wanted a ball,” Louis said. “I hope you will enjoy it because it won’t happen again for a long time. I want the Crown to show sobriety in the future.”

  “I can assure you that we were extremely careful with the expenses,” Lissandro insisted. He moved towards Louis. “I know how uncomfortable you feel about it, but try to socialize as best as you can. Balls are no battlefields of opinions. Wits and charming smiles are the rule.”

  Louis put the tips of his fingers to his throat. “Actually, what makes me uncomfortable right now is to be dressed without a cravat. I feel like I’m rude or naked.”

  “Oh, I do enjoy seeing your throat,” Lissandro whispered. Selen noticed that Lissandro’s lips parted as he stared at the pale, throbbing skin.

  “Please, close your mouth, Lilo,” Louis said. “It’s awkward.”

  “Hmm, I’m sorry,” Lissandro said, controlling himself again. “Should we move?”

  They headed to the gallery. As they walked down the stairs from the garden, a woman walked from the north side of the gallery.

  “Kilda?” Selen said.

  In her lady outfits, she was hardly recognizable. She wore a dress of thick, red velvet, with an embroidered, open collar, and thin salmon gloves. Her eyes were red and she looked upset. She stopped when she saw them.

  “What is wrong?” Lissandro asked kindly.

  “I’m sorry, my lords, Your Majesty, but I can’t attend the ball,” she sobbed.

  “Why?” Selen asked.

  “Look at me. My hair is a mess, I have a scar, and I look like a horse. And I can’t even close my dress.” More tears ran down her cheeks. She squirmed and gestured to hide herself. “I’m sorry.”

  Selen walked towards her. “Don’t say that,” he frowned. “Look how lovely you are in your dress.” She looked at him as if he was making fun of her. “I mean it,” Selen insisted.

  Lissandro stood at their side. He took her hand. “Selen is right. All you need is to dry your tears.” He smiled. He unfastened the feathers on his hair and tied them to her short, black hair. They cupped the side of her head and suited her perfectly. “You look like a native bride,” Lissandro said. “It’s a compliment.”

  Kilda half smiled. “Can you do something with my dress?” Her corset was loose, making her corsage look slovenly.

  Selen had no idea how to fix a dress and looked at Lissandro. His friend turned to him. His face showed the same helpless look. Lissandro grabbed the ropes on her back and tried to pull on it.

  “It’s stuck,” he complained.

  Louis approached them. “Move away,” he said, pushing Lissandro on the side. “If you excuse me.” He pulled up Kilda’s corsage until it was straight. He turned her around, took hold of the ropes, and put his knee on her bottom. Selen and Lissandro gaped as their friend tugged hard on the ropes, closing the corset in a few seconds.

  Louis turned to them and stepped back. “Two sisters.” He smiled.

  With her dress perfectly closed, Kilda was elegant. Many men would probably find her attractive.

  “You are beautiful,” Lissandro said.

  “Thank you,” she chuckled.

  “But where is Josselin? Should he not accompany you?” Selen asked.

  “He went to Millhaven for a few days, but I thought I could have some distraction,” she said.

  “And you did well,” Lissandro said. “Would you accompany me? I’m sure Josselin won’t mind.” He offered her his arm. She put her hand on it.

  Selen smiled. Li
ssandro was more than a head shorter than her, but they still looked sweet.

  They entered the hall. The decoration was completely different from the one they had had for the coronation’s festivities. Selen understood what Lissandro had meant with the surprise. Giant mirrors hung on the walls on each side. They reflected the candles’ flames and made the hall look infinite. Between the mirrors and around the top and bottom pillars of the aisles, stood long, brocade curtains in dark shades of burgundy. In the subdued light, their color matched the embroidered carpets unfolded on the floor under the aisles.

  “And all that was in the undercrofts?” Selen whispered.

  Lissandro looked at him with a hint of pride.

  Guests were already scattered in the hall in small groups. They turned towards them as the herald announced the king’s arrival.

  Louis headed towards the delegation from the Windy Isles. The princes and their sister interrupted their discussion with Honfroi and bowed towards the king. Their silk garments were richly decorated with pearls and laces, and they wore puffed-up pants.

  “Your Majesty, let us thank you for this charming evening. This place is incredible. I can hardly believe that it is the same hall as the one where we met,” Philip said.

  “I am pleased to know it satisfies Your Royal Highnesses,” Louis replied. “The Crown will do its best to make your stay enjoyable.”

  “We have no doubt about that. Nysa Serin is known to be a place of luxury and pleasures,” Owen said.

  Selen wondered how long they would keep on complimenting each other. Probably until they ran dry of pompous words.

  “Nysa Serin has suffered the sorrows of a long war, but the city will soon show its virtues of probity and social development to the world,” Louis said with a twitch of the lips.

  Selen got the answer to his question. It seemed his friend had not appreciated having his capital compared with a medieval Babylon.

  Lissandro stepped forward. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highnesses. I need to have a word with His Majesty.”

  Selen stepped away and decided to have a look at the place. A servant presented him a tray with goblets of wine. Selen picked one. He had noticed that the drink helped him to inhibit his fears in such situation. Yet, he remembered Bertrant and the orgiastic scenes he had faced in his previous life. This goblet was a treacherous friend. A buffet had been set against the south wall. Surprisingly, there were no venison or pâtés, but toasts and a profusion of fruits. Selen picked a ground cherry and turned around. Musicians had taken their places on the dais. The herald stepped forward and announced the opening of the ball.

  A flow of dancers stepped on the floor and moved gracefully with the rhythm of the music. Selen listened to the notes and tried to remember the different dances he had learned. He took a sip of his wine. The pink beverage had the sweet taste of strawberries.

  “Your friend made a miracle with the decorations,” he heard a voice behind him. Selen turned around and faced Evrardin. “I wonder where in the capital he found so many mirrors.”

  “Then you should probably ask him,” Selen answered and realized he was being rude. “I think they come from the palace furniture.”

  “I have heard that the king projects to write new laws,” Evrardin said, showing the true purpose of his conversation. “Will it be the subject of the next council session?”

  Selen knew he was not prepared to hold such discussion. At one point, the man would corner him and squeeze out the answers he needed. Selen decided it was time he stepped on the dance floor. “The king is a busy man. I think he may surprise us all with ambitious projects for Trevalden,” Selen responded before walking away.

  Selen put his goblet on a table and approached a mature woman in a yellow gown. Veils covered the salt and pepper buns on the sides of her head. He held out his hands towards her as he had seen the other men do. The woman looked at him with incomprehension. It felt slightly awkward.

  “Are you sure you want to dance with me, young man?” she asked him.

  Selen only smiled back. When she saw that he was serious, she stepped forward and took hold of his hands. Lissandro had been wrong on the sensuality, but it was true that he could easily focus on the steps. Dancing was a lot easier than he had thought.

  “You are a wonderful dancer,” the woman whispered. “You will make the maidens’ heads spin tonight.” Selen noticed that her chubby face blushed slightly. He was glad to know that he could give a good impression.

  After a few dances, he took his leave and was heading towards the buffet when he noticed Kilda. She sat alone in the aisle, apparently scared that her appearance raised sarcasm. Whatever this assembly may think, Selen saw more beauty in Kilda than in any of the overly made-up women in the hall. He walked towards her. “Would you give me the honour?” he asked, holding out his hand.

  “With pleasure,” she answered, putting her silk glove on his hand. Her voice was warm and noble.

  They walked to the dance floor. Selen put his hand on her waist and noticed that, even with his heels, Kilda was somewhat taller than him.

  “I hope you do not mind about the corset,” she squirmed.

  Selen smiled. “No. Don’t worry. Louis is very polite, but he would not even glance at a woman. Yet, you are taller and stronger than him. You may attract his attention.”

  She laughed. “Do you realize how rude that was?” Selen blushed with shame. “No, please. It made my day. None of you can talk to a lady, but your attempts to be nice are always memorable.”

  Selen and Kilda swirled on the floor like leaves in the wind. She looked happy, and Selen thought that he enjoyed these type of dances. He would not dance with his love, but Kilda was a wonderful partner. They danced together until Lissandro took back his role at her side.

  The dances had warmed Selen up. He decided to leave the hall to take some fresh air and stepped outside into the night. Guests stood on the esplanade, but the gardens along the south aisle looked silent. The rose bushes spread their perfume. The air was chilly and moist with the dew. Faint lights shone from the windows above. From the chambers came muffled voices. Selen stopped when he heard Louis’s name. He listened more carefully. The voice had something familiar, as he had heard it before, but he could not remember where.

  “Did you make all the preparations for tonight?” the voice inquired.

  Selen could not hear the answer. He felt that something was amiss and decided to check for himself. The stake for the rose bushes ended a bit under the windowsill. Selen climbed silently on it, hoping it would hold his weight.

  “I still haven’t swallowed the humiliation in front of the court. This decree will soon bring ruin to my trade. Of course, I am with you in this,” Selen heard another voice say. As he could not climb higher, he counted the windows. It must be the fifth room from the west.

  “Then let me describe to you what we expect of you,” the familiar voice said.

  “You don’t need to. I already have taken the initiative. Tonight, the king will drink his last cup of wine,” the voice sniggered.

  “What have you done, fool? We told you to wait!”

  Selen’s eyes widened as his blood ran cold. He jumped from the stake and ran to the hall.

  The party was in full swing. The dancers filled the floor and groups stood here and there under the aisles. It took time before Selen spotted Louis in a discussion with the princes. His fingers discreetly drumming on the goblet in his hand, Louis looked clogged in boredom with a forced smile that Selen recognized as consternation. Trying not to run or scream, Selen pushed his way hastily among the guests. When he approached, Prince Owen was entertaining the group with a jovial story.

  “…We enter the bedchambers, and the man stands on his knees with the chicken in one hand…”

  As Selen grasped Louis’s wrist, his friend turned towards him with relief mixed with incomprehension. He looked at Selen’s grip, pulling his hand away, then at Selen’s expression. When Selen shook his head, Louis’s feat
ures were struck with terror. The goblet fell onto the floor. Louis turned livid and looked at the crowd with panic. Behind him, Owen fell silent.

  “Is something wrong, Your Majesty?” Philip asked.

  “Stay calm,” Selen whispered to Louis. “I will take care of this with Folc. Don’t eat or drink anything.”

  He let go of his friend and hurried towards Lissandro, who stood near the dais with Kilda. She adjusted the bottom of her dress. Selen tapped Lissandro’s shoulder.

  “Stay close to Louis for the rest of the evening. Be on your guards,” Selen whispered. The look in Lissandro’s eyes turned grim.

  Folc, who stood near the door, understood before Selen needed to say a word. The king’s guard followed him out into the gallery.

  “Fifth room from the west!” Selen exclaimed. The two men ran up the staircase and along the aisle. The room’s door stood ajar. Selen stretched out an arm to stop Folc from rushing in. He pushed the door carefully.

  A man lay in a pool of blood. Selen stepped inside and turned the body onto his back. He recognized the merchant who had opposed the decree during the court session. “Hallecos.” Yet, it was not his voice that Selen had heard. It meant that Hallecos was behind the plot, but that the merchant had only been a pawn in a bigger scheme. “Whose room is this?” Selen asked.

  “His room,” Folc answered.

  In the garderobe, a man in velvet clothes sat with his tongue out and his eyes rolled upwards. He had purple marks on his neck, but his throat had been severed deep as a precaution.

  “I guess he won’t talk much,” the boy added.

  “Ask the commander of the guard to reinforce the security. I think it was an isolated attempt, but we better be careful. However, we have a foreign delegation down there. We have to keep the appearances. Don’t cause a scandal.”

  The boy left the room. Selen felt terribly guilty not to have warned Louis about Segar. It had not been the captain’s voice he had heard, but he had no doubt that the events were connected in some way.