The Exile's Curse

by M. J. Scott

  Katiya laughed again, shaking the braids back up her arm. As she did so, the light caught the colors again as the circled cords shifted and, Chloe realized the red she'd been admiring was actually a variegated blend of red and orange. The sunlight highlighted the latter, spotlighting a patch where the orange ran against the green for an inch or so.

  Chloe blinked. Green and orange. House Elannon. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but it slid a thread of unease down her spine.

  As Katiya walked back to her chair, Chloe stepped a little closer to Irina and lowered her voice. "That one I was admiring. Do you know who made it?”

  Irina nodded absently, watching her sister. "Lady Cela. Over there in the pale blue. But she won't tell you how she did it. Some of the patterns are used by certain houses. It's bad manners to copy."

  "What house is hers?" Chloe asked, trying to sound casual.

  "Reynavik," Irina said. "Well, her husband's house. She was a Daskyev before she married." She frowned. "She's Silya's cousin. Their grandmother was an Elannon." She almost whispered the last word. "But that's not her fault."

  If she thought it was strange that Lady Cela had used colors that skated close to House Elannon, she didn't mention it. So maybe Chloe was being paranoid. But she made a mental note to keep an eye on Cela. Hopefully she was friendlier than her cousin. She had the same silvery blonde hair, the pale blue of her dress and vest setting it off nicely. The embroidery on her clothes had no colors resembling those of House Elannon. Only the hint of a pale orange in places and a leafy green that didn't have the same acidic edge to it as the Elannon green.

  But Chloe couldn't shake an edge of unease, even if Irina seemed unconcerned. She looked for Honore. The colonel was currently talking quietly with Katiya's mother, and they both looked serious. Not a time to interrupt. Time enough to tell Honore later.

  She turned her attention back to the tscherov and hoped she wouldn't make an idiot of herself when it came to her turn.

  It probably wasn't a good sign that the meeting had only been underway for a few minutes and Lucien already wished it was kafiet, not tea, in the cup before him. He’d been told his initial meeting with House Elannon would only include a small number of people. So he'd brought only Lieutenant Plesse and Ensign Bretain with him for support.

  Apparently the Andalyssians had a different interpretation of small. Or maybe they were putting on a show of strength. He didn't know. The king seemed genuine in his desire to resolve this matter, but Mikvel was only one man. He sat at the head of the table with Roland opposite him. Three men in Surayov colors, who had not been introduced, sat against the wall behind Mikvel, notebooks at the ready. Lucien and his party were seated to the king's right, and across the broad granite table were no fewer than four representatives of House Elannon, the current senior Ashmeister from House Reynavik, Sejerin Silya, and two men in deep green robes who had been introduced as Patrarch Federov and Svasya Meloskya, the two ranking priests of the kingdom.

  If they'd thought to overwhelm him with numbers, they shouldn’t have bothered. He didn't need anybody else in order to exercise his powers, after all. If he wanted, he could know within seconds if anyone in the room was lying. But he wanted to start the meeting in good faith despite the fact that, so far, the behavior of House Elannon was not reassuring. Their expressions were stony, and they had wasted five minutes in determining who should sit where until Mikvel had given them an exasperated look and told them to take their seats. To their credit, they had followed that order. Not ready to outright defy their king, it seemed.

  Mikvel lifted a hand. "All right. We all know why we are here today. Major de Roche, why don't you begin?"

  Go first before his people could start ranting? Lucien squared his shoulders. "Of course, Your Majesty. The emperor received the king's request that House Elannon be restored early. While he is respectful of your beliefs, he wishes me to reiterate that there was a reason for the conditions imposed on House Elannon and that he needs to be satisfied that the house has learned from its past before he will agree to lift them."

  He watched the faces of the Elannon men. While the two younger men, one of whom—Andrej—was the current head of the house who would have been the Ashmeister, were Elannon still afforded one, looked serious and attentive, the older two were more remote. The oldest, Uli Elannon, was the youngest brother of the Ashmeister who had led them into disaster. He hadn't been part of his brother's plot, but if Lucien had to pick someone who might still hold the seeds of rebellion in his heart, he would choose him. His eyes were ice green and showed no hint of remorse.

  Lucien pointedly turned his attention back to Andrej. "Which is why His Imperial Majesty has sent me. He wishes to see true change, not platitudes and pretense of reform. Now, do any of you wish to deny the emperor's authority in this matter? Because that would shorten this process considerably."

  No one spoke, though Uli's mouth tightened fractionally.

  "No? Good. Then we can begin. Now, today is just a preliminary meeting. I will need to speak to a number of people from House Elannon and the other houses and—"

  The patrarch held up his hand. "If I may, Major. We must make sure that you understand the ramifications of this decision. The kingdom must be in balance for the king's wedding to be blessed by the goddess. While the Ashmeisters are not whole, the balance cannot be whole."

  He'd been prepared for this line of argument. Which was prevarication at best and religious posturing of the kind he had little time for at worst. After all, they'd crowned their new king without the full council. In fact, they’d done everything for the last thirteen years without a full council, and the country had not yet fallen off the side of the mountain, lack of balance or not. He bit back the urge to say just that. "I am clear. But merely restoring House Elannon is not the path to true balance. Unless I am mistaken, for there to be balance, there cannot be treason at the heart of the kingdom. Treason against the emperor is treason against your king as well, as it can only harm him."

  The patrarch looked like he had bitten into something sour, but he didn't offer a counterargument.

  "The emperor forgives treason which he chooses," Uli Elannon said. His voice was low, gravelly. It had been that way when Lucien was last here, and age had only added to the effect.

  "Does he?" Lucien asked.

  "There is one among your party who was married to a traitor, isn't there?" Uli continued. "Clearly the emperor has forgiven her."

  Lucien's stomach tightened. Chloe? He was bringing Chloe into this? For what reason? "If you are referring to Lieutenant de Montesse, she had no knowledge of her husband's actions. She is in no way a traitor and continues to serve her emperor faithfully."

  "Convenient," Uli said.

  "Uli—" Andrej began in a warning tone, but Lucien held up a hand.

  "My lord Elannon, I will answer, if I may." He stared at Uli while Andrej nodded and sat back in his chair.

  Lucien leaned forward in his. "It is truth, sir. Not convenience. I do not serve convenience, and I never will. I do, however, serve the truth. As I am sure you remember. And, like Lieutenant de Montesse, if House Elannon has done as it should and removed those who would place rot and dissent over the well-being of its members and its country, then you have nothing to fear from the truth."

  "Are you so sure of the daughter of ravens, then? Trouble likes that one. It’s not finished with her,” Sejerin Silya said.

  What in the name of the goddess did that mean? But he didn’t want to get into an argument with the seer. "Lieutenant de Montesse is loyal. I know that to be truth."

  "So certain. Those the goddess touches are not so simple, Illvyan."

  He flattened his hand on the table to stop it curling into a fist. "I know, I am one of them, Sejerin. The goddess gave me my magic. I use it at her will." Hers and the emperor’s. So far, she hadn’t objected to anything Aristides had ever tasked him with. Or as far as he could tell. He still had his magic, after all. "The lieutenant is not part of t
his matter."

  Silya looked amused for a fleeting moment. "And how shall you know the truth? Using your power?"

  The power the Andalyssians thought unbalanced. "The power granted to me by the grace of the goddess. Yes, where necessary. But it will not be necessary for everyone. And I will seek permission before using it. I do not use my power on the unwilling or the unwary other than when it is required for a matter of law. This is not yet a matter of law." A reminder that it could become so should they defy the emperor.

  The sejerin looked no happier with him than Uli. He was winning no friends around this table. Not that he had expected to.

  King Mikvel cleared his throat. "Thank you, Major. I am happy with your approach. I am eager for this matter to be settled." His voice was calm, steel behind the words.

  He cast a look at Uli Elannon that was not entirely happy. He might be young, but it seemed House Elannon were underestimating their king if they thought he was simply going to roll over and do their bidding. Or let them take his throne.

  "Andrej, you will assist Major de Roche in his discussions. Starting now."

  Chloe didn’t get the chance to speak to the colonel before the evening's functions began. Honore had been determined to make up for lost time after the tscherov, and the afternoon had turned into a blur of meetings and appointments where she sat in the back and took notes.

  After the meetings, there had only just been time to change for dinner. A more formal affair tonight, followed by a ball. As there would be every night between now and the wedding. Once Mikvel and Katiya were safely married, there would be some breathing space to focus on actual diplomacy. There would be fewer wedding-related demands on their time. Only in the final week did the schedule look crowded again in the lead-up to the king and Katiya making their wedding marks final and Katiya's coronation.

  Provided she didn't change her mind—unlikely, if Chloe was any judge—or that things didn't go completely sideways with Lucien's investigation of House Elannon.

  At dinner, Chloe wasn't seated with Honore. She was at a table in the second row with Gilles Theisse. Honore and Lucien, thankfully, were seated in the first row again, as a reflection of their rank. Honore wore a silver-blue gown that matched her eyes. She and Lucien could almost be Andalyssians.

  But not quite. Lucien's evening jacket was black, his shirt and cravat snow white. He looked like night fallen amongst the rainbow Andalyssians. The choice of plain black and white was severe even for Illvyan evening wear, where the men sometimes wore colors. The only way he could have stood out more would be to turn up in his uniform. Besides his eyes, the only spot of color he sported was the bloodred ruby in the heavy gold Castaigne signet ring he wore on his right hand. Lucien had never been showy in his choice of clothes, but his outfit tonight seemed to be intentional. A reminder of his profession rather than his rank?

  None of her business, and she had been watching him a shade too long as it was. She turned her attention back to her dinner companions, taking each mouthful with care to avoid spilling anything on her gown. The dress was drawing enough attention without her adding to it through clumsiness.

  Left to her own taste, she wouldn't have chosen this precise shade of scarlet. It was a tad too bright with her red-and-black-streaked hair and not designed to blend into the background. But it had been one of Imogene's gowns that Helene Designy had deemed to be easy to alter quickly, and that had been the end of that discussion. It was lovely, made from a heavy silk and beaded with a spray of flowers that clustered the bodice and spilled down the skirt in a glittering fall. It wasn't, however, very Andalyssian.

  Allita had done her best with Chloe’s hair, working a number of fine braids into it that were going to be a nightmare to undo on her own. It was a nod to Andalyssian fashion, but the braids emphasized the differing shades of her hair, drawing attention to her magic.

  Imogene had lent her jewels, but she had restrained herself to only a pair of ruby earrings. The dress was enough. The balls were only going to be more and more elaborate as they approached the wedding, and then there was the wedding itself and the coronation. She needed to keep something back for those.

  Dinner passed quickly. It was easier to follow the conversations, her confidence with Andalyssian growing, but she still had to pay attention to make sure she didn't miss anything. Or offend anybody. But it was exhilarating to know she was starting to be able to hold her own, and she was smiling by the time Captain Theisse offered her his arm after dinner to accompany her to the ballroom.

  She was tempted to tell him about Lady Cela, but it was too risky when they were surrounded by Andalyssians who understood Illvyan perfectly well. She hadn't yet seen Cela tonight, but it seemed unlikely she wouldn't be at the ball if she had been invited to the tscherov. Maybe she could get Irina to make an introduction, then see if a conversation with the woman might ease her doubts.

  The ballroom was almost as big as the King's Hearth, though decorated in a more intimate manner. There were, inevitably, tapestries, but here they were narrow columns of white and silver velvets hanging floor to ceiling between expanses of white plastered walls studded with small jeweled tiles that dazzled the eye. It wasn't as large as Aristides’s ballroom, and it lacked the mirrors that made the emperor's room appear almost infinite, but it was breathtaking in its own way.

  A reminder that Andalyssia's riches came from the mines beneath their feet. Though she didn't like thinking too closely about the mines. The knowledge that parts of the mountain supporting the vast palace were hollowed out into tunnels and chambers far beneath her feet made her feel odd. Like she was back on a ship or the navire, unsure of her footing.

  The dance floor was pale wood inlaid with silver, the patterns more sinuous than those on the walls. It would have been helpful if they'd formed the patterns of the Andalyssian set dances. She’d studied them on the journey, and they had seemed straightforward, but there hadn't been much room to practice on board the navire. As much as she liked to dance, the added complication of worrying about tripping over her feet trying to get the steps right while making appropriate conversation in Andalyssian seemed likely to turn it into a chore rather than a pleasure.

  The rest of the room was furnished with low padded couches and benches and chairs, all covered with white velvet. Silver-legged glass tables sat between them, holding candles in glass lanterns. The flickering candlelight reflected and danced over the room, and the air carried the now familiar incense scent of the court. Above the room, vast chandeliers glittered, but the points of light within them were earth lamps, too steady to be flames.

  The court congregated in small groups. She didn’t see any pattern to the gatherings. No clear-cut territorial divide between the houses. Some groups wore predominantly the colors of one house, but others were more mixed, and she didn’t yet know enough about the various alliances between the sixteen noble houses, let alone the lesser ones, to understand the politics at play.

  The section of the room beyond the dance floor was the domain of the royal family, the furniture more lavish, the servants more plentiful. Katiya, who wore a pink dress that seemed a well-judged way to avoid wearing either Surayov or Uleniska colors, stood with Mikvel and some of the other Surayovs. Irina stood with her sister, wearing a gown the color of sunlit seas. Their parents and several others in Uleniska blue and green rounded out the party.

  The clothing was extravagant and less severe than the court robes. House embroidery edged hems, necklines, jacket cuffs, and lapels for the men, and most of the court still favored their house colors, but there was more variation in the ball gowns than in the formal robes they'd worn to the ceremony at the King’s Hearth. The women's dresses had long sleeves and modest necklines. Helene hadn’t been able to do much to raise the neckline of some of Chloe’s gowns, but she’d added deep ruffled bands of beaded lace that reached her wrists to the formerly elbow-length sleeves. They would fall back when she danced but gave the illusion of length otherwise.

  Chl
oe and Gilles joined Honore and Lucien, who were talking with a man in the night blue and red of House Petrov. House Petrov was deeply involved in the mines and had representatives at several of the earlier meetings, but Chloe didn't recognize him.

  Before Honore could make introductions, the king led Katiya toward the dance floor and nearly everybody else hurried to form sets around them, leaving the Illvyans with no choice but to join in.

  "How good is your memory?" Gilles asked as he led her to one of the sets forming farther down the room from the king. Good strategy for avoiding too much attention.

  "As good as it's going to get for now. But I've always had a good memory for dances. How about you?"

  "Your toes are safe with me, Lieutenant," he said.

  "Let's hope so. I only brought three pairs of dancing slippers, and they have to last the month."

  He laughed and swung her into place.

  The music started, a swirl of strings and some sort of long pipe that pulsed low and deep, setting a steady rhythm that made her toes twitch. The next hour or so became a blur of dancing and laughing as she tried to cover her inevitable mistakes. Thankfully, most of them laughed with her.

  The dances had begun with some slower choices, but the musicians quickened the pace with each set that passed until each dance was a whirl of spinning and changing partners and trying to catch her breath each time there was a minute’s pause at the end of a song. At least the speed limited the need for conversation. Eventually the musicians came to a halt and stood for applause.

  Mikvel led Katiya off the dance floor, and as soon as his feet were both clear of the inlaid wood, there was a mass exodus of people heading for the couches and reaching for glasses of campenois held at the ready by a legion of silver-and-white-clad servants.

  Chloe tried not to gulp hers down too fast, wishing it was water rather than wine and that Andalyssians had the same fashion for fans as Illvyans. The room wasn't as hot as a ballroom in Lumia or even the palace in Kingswell, thank the goddess, but it was warm enough after dancing like a woman possessed for an hour. Her feet, in their new slippers, were already protesting. She was out of practice. Well, there would plenty of hot water to soak them in back in her room, and she knew which herbs she could add to ease the inevitable aches and pains. Maybe she should ask Irina for a tour of the stillroom to make sure there would be more available in the palace if she needed them. The supply she had brought with her might not last the month if all the dancing was going to as vigorous.