Troubled Waters

by Sharon Shinn

  “I think it might be easier if you were present.”

  “Then let us go downstairs.”

  SIXTEEN

  It didn’t take Zoe long to form opinions of the king’s four wives. She supposed they had formed instant opinions of her as well, and none very favorable. She had planned to spend the whole reception saying little, listening closely, and betraying almost no emotion; but a few times she couldn’t stop herself from making a pointed comment. Well, surely it was the ambiance that sparked her sharp replies. The king’s wives all appeared to engage in a ceaseless, subtle war of words, often unkind and stuffed with hidden meaning. Surely anyone would occasionally respond with a barbed retort of her own.

  They had gathered in a beautiful room that was painted in pale yellows and whites, and decorated with latticework along its windows and arched doorways. It was very much an elay sort of space, airy and light, and the colors were Dochenza. A reminder that the king’s first wife was both Dochenza and elay.

  The instant Zoe and Darien stepped inside, all four wives surged over to greet them. One put her hand on Darien’s arm in an unconsciously possessive fashion.

  “Darien! You have brought her straight to us! I’m so glad!” she exclaimed. Zoe remembered her from the parade, so she was sure this was Alys, but she took a moment to get a better look close up. The third queen was a small-boned, pale-complected woman whose dark red hair was her most striking feature. She wore silk trousers and an overrobe of the palest green; the scooped neckline was cut to perfectly frame a short copper necklace hung with three blessing charms. Intelligence, patience, resolve. Despite the fact that only one was a fire trait, the queen was obviously sweela.

  As Darien introduced them, Alys turned her light green eyes on Zoe with sharp attention. “The missing Lalindar prime,” she said. “We have been so eager to meet you. You must have very exciting stories to tell.”

  “Almost none, I’m afraid,” Zoe said, smiling pleasantly. It was remarkable how instantly she disliked Alys, though she tried to keep a mask of civility on her face.

  Alys offered a brittle laugh. “We’ll tease them out of you.”

  Darien shook off Alys’s hand and directed Zoe toward a second woman who had dark hair, white skin, blue eyes, and an engaging smile. She was short and a little plump, with a sort of puppy-dog friendliness that made Zoe like her on the spot. She could barely be twenty, whereas Alys appeared to be at least ten years older. “It is just that we already know all our own stories, and they’re no longer interesting,” the young woman said. “So we’re wild with delight at the idea of meeting someone new. And someone from the Five Families at that! We have been waiting for you for days.”

  “I will try to be interesting,” Zoe said. “But please don’t expect too much.”

  “That’s Romelle,” Darien supplied. “The king’s fourth and youngest wife.”

  Alys stroked Romelle’s arm as she might caress a cat’s fur. “Our little pet. We all adore her.”

  Romelle giggled and looked pleased. Zoe didn’t have time to assess whether that was an act or not because Darien was already introducing her to a third woman. This one was taller than the rest, thin and fair-haired and attractive. “Seterre,” he said. “The king’s second wife.”

  Zoe thought Seterre looked crafty and curious, the kind of person who would pretend to be your friend just so she could find out your secrets and use them against you. Yet she was old for such adolescent games, probably in her late thirties. Zoe remembered that she had a daughter who was about fourteen. The king’s oldest child and possibly his heir.

  “Indeed, we are pleased to have you among us,” Seterre said, and her voice was low-pitched and musical. “You look like your father.”

  “That’s right,” Alys said, as if she had just remembered. “You’re Navarr Ardelay’s daughter.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “We were so sorry to hear of his death,” Alys said. “We had always hoped he would be back in Vernon’s good graces and we would have a chance to see him again.”

  “Alys,” Romelle said in a shocked voice.

  “Well, it’s hardly a secret to Zoe that her father had fallen from favor.”

  “Indeed, that fact was the central tenet of my existence for ten years,” Zoe said, displaying nothing but serenity. Inside, she had felt a small rip of grief, a spurt of anger—that a thing so huge, so awful, could be spoken of so casually—but she showed none of it on her face. “I am unlikely to have forgotten.”

  “He was such a proud man. Was he—was his exile difficult for him?” Seterre asked. Zoe supposed she spoke so awkwardly because, having brought up Navarr’s name, she thought it would be rude to quickly turn the subject, and yet she could hardly think of what else to ask. How did he die? Was there much suffering? Have you mastered your grief yet?

  “I never saw any bitterness in him,” Zoe said, “no regrets. He remained, until he died, a vibrant and restless presence.”

  “That is good to hear,” said the last woman in the room. “I, too, would have been glad to have one last conversation with Navarr Ardelay.”

  Zoe turned in her direction just as Darien said, “Let me present Elidon. The king’s first wife.”

  Elidon was solid, full-bodied, and showing signs of her age, which must have been a little more than fifty. Her short hair was a mix of black and gray, and the skin around her gray eyes was rayed with wrinkles. She seemed sad, Zoe thought, but dignified, and touched with latent power. Zoe had the impression Elidon could be roused to attack if the incentive was strong enough, and that she could be merciless.

  “Welcome to our home for however long you choose to stay with us,” Elidon said. She bowed her head in a great show of courtesy from the most powerful woman in the room. None of them extended a hand or came near enough to touch Zoe. She remembered that—among royalty and high-ranking families—physical contact was considered a privilege offered only to close friends.

  Suddenly, frivolously, she remembered how Darien had taken her arm as they entered the castle. But that wasn’t a sign of friendship; it was a mark of kindness.

  “Thank you for opening your home to me,” Zoe replied formally. “I am sure I will enjoy my time among you.”

  “Are we done with all the introductions and greetings?” Romelle asked plaintively. “Can’t we sit and eat? I’m so hungry!”

  A laugh rippled around the gathering, and Seterre linked her arm with Romelle’s. “Yes, let us feed our child-bride,” she said. “Oh, to be twenty years old again and eat whatever I want without turning into a fat old cow!”

  “All her meals will catch up with her soon enough,” Alys said. “As Elidon knows.”

  It was said in a playful manner, but it was definitely intended to be cruel, and Zoe waited for a reproof from one of the other women. But no one said anything, not even Elidon, who merely led the way to a lovely table situated in front of a wide window. The glass top of the table was laid over a filigreed metal base that echoed the whitewashed trellises both in the room and in the garden. Despite the lateness of the season, there were still plenty of green vines and bushes visible through the window, and a few hardy blossoms added splashes of desperate color.

  “Sit by me,” Romelle begged, so Zoe dropped into the seat beside her. Elidon settled at the head of the table, but everyone else took whatever chair was nearest to hand. Servants slipped in through side doors to pour fruited water into their glasses and bring out plates of bread and sweets. Romelle made a little purring noise of satisfaction and everyone else laughed.

  Darien had seated himself directly across the table from Zoe, and Alys had instantly claimed the chair beside him. She gave him a teasing smile. “I cannot believe you have agreed to stay and visit with us so long!” she said. “You hardly ever join us anymore!”

  “My services have been much in demand by Vernon,” he said.

  “Well, I can be very demanding, too,” Alys said.

  “I have not forgotten that,” he sai
d.

  Romelle ignored them. “Isn’t that good?” she asked as Zoe made appreciative sounds over a slice of some slim, sweet concoction that seemed to be nothing but honey and nuts.

  “I’ve never tasted anything like it,” Zoe said. “Clearly, I have lived away from society too long!”

  She said it lightly, and to Romelle, but Alys was the one who jumped on her words. “Yes, and where exactly did you live when you were in exile with your father?”

  “Alys,” Elidon said.

  Alys opened her green eyes very wide. “What? I am not supposed to even mention the fact that they were in exile?”

  “You’ve already done so,” Elidon said. “Perhaps you could keep from mentioning it every time you open your mouth.”

  Alys’s pretty lips tightened in anger that she quickly concealed. No love lost between these two, Zoe thought. The red-haired queen spoke in exaggeratedly polite tones. “Where did you live while your father was alive?”

  “In a very small town on the edge of the western provinces,” Zoe said, holding on to her tranquility. “I imagine the entire village could have fit inside the kierten of the palace.”

  Romelle turned to her, aghast, and spoke around a mouthful of food. “No! But what did you do? Who did you talk to?”

  “My father always talked enough for twenty people,” Zoe said with a small smile. “My days were spent with him, and they were not empty.”

  “Still, even the most fascinating man palls from time to time, as all of us know,” Seterre said, earning another light laugh from the company.

  “You must have been so excited when Darien came to fetch you,” Romelle said.

  Zoe flicked a look at Darien; she didn’t know how much of this story was widely known. Apparently, everyone in the palace and the Five Families had been aware that Zoe had been considered as the king’s fifth bride. But did the wives know she had run away from Darien? Did they know she had lived on the river before she discovered her true inheritance? “Indeed, everyone in the village was excited when he arrived,” was all she said.

  Looking amused, Darien smoothly entered the conversation. “When I found Zoe Lalindar, she was deep in mourning for her father’s passing and had a hard time grasping how greatly her fortunes had changed,” he said. “Once Vernon and I realized she was Lalindar prime, we knew she could no longer be considered as a royal bride. I eventually decided to take her directly to her grandmother’s house, where she could grow accustomed to her new position before she attempted to come to Chialto and hold her own against the likes of you.”

  Romelle widened her big blue eyes. “You say that as if she would have to defend herself against us!”

  He laughed at her. “That is certainly how I view the situation.”

  Romelle turned back to Zoe. “Not at all! I am merely asking questions because I am curious.”

  Zoe smiled at her; Romelle seemed to be the most genuine of the lot. “All in all, I think the most astonishing part of Darien Serlast’s appearance in my village was the kind of vehicle he arrived in. Until that time, I’d never seen one of the smoker cars, though my father had read about them in reports from Chialto.”

  “Yes, they’re quite remarkable,” Seterre said, speaking in a gushing voice. Her blond hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward. “And they’ve been such a boon to the Dochenzas! Turned around the family fortunes almost overnight.”

  That had been another dig at Elidon, Zoe thought, though the first wife didn’t exhibit any visible signs of annoyance. Darien said, “The Serlasts should only hope to invent something so useful—and lucrative—someday!” which seemed to defuse any tension.

  “So you have been staying at Christara’s house for the past season,” Alys said. “I have heard it is very beautiful.”

  “It is,” Zoe said, adding innocently, “That is still how I think of it, too, as Christara’s house. I keep forgetting that now it is actually mine.”

  By the way Alys’s head snapped back, Zoe knew that her own barb had hit home. Any property these women might have owned had been forfeit to the crown upon their marriages. It was a subtle way to remind them all that Zoe herself—naïve as she might still be, outcast that she so recently had been—was not without certain power of her own. She saw Darien’s faint smile, and in it she read approval.

  It was possible she might quickly learn this game after all.

  “Now that you are back in the city,” Elidon said, “will you reclaim your other properties? I believe your grandmother owned at least one house in the fashionable district.”

  “No, my aunt Sarone inherited that one from Christara, and she seems happily ensconced there,” Zoe said. “I might look around for something else to buy.” She toyed with the stem of her water glass and watched Darien from under lowered eyelids. “Or I might petition the king to return to me the property that used to belong to my father.”

  Which Darien himself had told her was now occupied by Serlasts. He narrowed his eyes but showed no other reaction. Seterre was the first one to make the connection, and her face showed surprise and then a flash of indignation. Seterre was hunti, Zoe knew, but she couldn’t remember if she was Serlast, too. “That property has been in other hands for ten years,” Seterre said. “It seems cruel to take it away now.”

  “That’s not a very good argument,” Zoe said. “It belonged to Ardelays for seventy-five years.”

  Alys put it together next and looked maliciously pleased. “Isn’t it—why, Darien, isn’t it your family that lives in Navarr’s old house?”

  He nodded. “They like it very much,” he said.

  “I’m sure they do,” Zoe said. “Of course, as Seterre says, it’s been ten years since I was inside, but it was a lovely place when I lived there.”

  “I can’t believe the king would dispossess any of Darien’s family,” Seterre said.

  “I liked your original thought,” Elidon said. “Perhaps you can buy a new place.”

  “And perhaps I just will not spend much time in Chialto,” Zoe said. “I am already missing my grandmother’s house.”

  “Oh, you can’t go back so soon!” Romelle exclaimed. “We’ve hardly gotten to know you! How can we make you stay? What kinds of things do you enjoy doing?”

  “I am easily entertained,” Zoe said.

  “We might find her a husband,” Alys said. “That would be entertaining.”

  Since I am not to marry your husband, Zoe couldn’t help thinking. She didn’t dare look at Darien Serlast with the thought so clear in her head. “I rather think my life would be much simpler without one,” she said.

  The wives laughed. “Life is always simpler without a husband,” Elidon said. “But there are some privileges—some status—a husband can bring that you might find welcome.”

  “I am just getting used to the status I have acquired on my own,” Zoe said. “It seems grand enough already.”

  “What do you think, Darien?” Alys asked. “You know Zoe better than we do. What kind of man would appeal to her?”

  For a moment, their eyes locked across the table. “I might have spent a little more time with her than you have,” he corrected Alys, “but I am far from certain that I know Zoe Lalindar. I doubt I would presume to advise her on affairs of the heart.”

  “Darien can’t even be troubled to find his own wife!” Romelle exclaimed. “I can’t picture him matchmaking for other people.”

  Alys stroked Darien’s arm with the same air of ownership she had showed earlier. “Darien is too busy for love,” she said. “But someday he will wake up and find himself an old man—lonely, childless, and exhausted, having given himself wholly over to service to the crown. I think that will be a sad day.”

  He didn’t look at Alys. Zoe couldn’t tell how he felt about the queen’s hand still resting on his arm. “I suppose I might have some regrets,” he said. “But that day seems very far off.”

  “Indeed, we are all quite young and healthy now!” Seterre said. “Well—most of
us. I mean—” She tittered unconvincingly; everyone avoided looking at Elidon. “None of us should be too worried about how we will feel during the dreary future. We have too many years ahead of us.”

  “Years spent enjoying each other’s company,” Elidon said icily. “Something to look forward to indeed.”

  Zoe didn’t even try to fill the small silence that followed that exchange, but fortunately a distraction arrived in the form of a servant. “Would your majesties wish the princesses to be brought in now?” she asked. She spoke as if to the whole table, but it was clear she was asking Elidon.

  The first wife nodded. “Indeed, this would be an excellent time.”

  Moments later a small parade of women entered the room from a side door—three servants, two young girls, and a child carried in the arms of one of the maids. Romelle cooed and jumped up to take her daughter from the maid, and then she began making sweet nonsense sounds into the little girl’s ear. The princess looked to be about four quintiles old, beautiful and bad-tempered. Her dark eyes looked balefully at the room and she sucked her fingers with an air of dissatisfaction.

  The other two girls went straight to Elidon’s side and bowed. Elidon sat back in her chair and inspected them, motioning for them to turn around so she could judge them from the back as well. The oldest girl looked very like Seterre—thin, tall for her age, blue-eyed, with ashy blond hair in a long braid down her back—though she was not as pretty as her mother. Her face was also a little more set, a little more tense, as if she were continually braced for something bad to happen. The younger girl had Alys’s red hair and smug manner, but her eyes were a woodland brown, huge and gorgeous. When the two princesses had turned to face Elidon again, the redhead kept cutting her eyes toward Zoe. The blonde kept her gaze on the queen.

  “What did you learn in your classes today?” Elidon asked.

  The blonde answered first. “I am still studying the history of Welce and the nations to the north, and the treaties that we signed after the War of Water.”