by Sharon Shinn
“Ahhhhhhhhh—” he breathed, and dropped his head heavily against the back of his chair. Otherwise, he sat unmoving; he did not try to pull his hand away. “I knew that was how Christara had learned the truth, but it had not even occurred to me that you—” He seemed unable to finish.
She was relieved that he did not try to deny it. She did not blame him—much—for trying to conceal the truth from her, but she would have been bitterly disappointed if he had kept trying to pretend at this juncture. “I have made some strange discoveries since I became prime,” she said. “I hope this one is the most astonishing—but I entertain fears that something worse will reveal itself at a not too distant date.”
He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on her again. “And do you, like Christara, now despise Navarr for what you have learned about his royal infidelity?”
“A little,” she admitted. She released him and settled back against the cushions of her chair. “I am furious with him for so many reasons, and more reasons accrue almost every day! He lied to me on so many fronts, on matters great and petty, that I am beginning to think I did not know him at all. I can understand why he did not want to discuss with me his liaison with the king’s wife and the child it produced—but I am not sure how quickly I will be able to forgive him for thinking it was acceptable to have such a liaison in the first place.”
“Which I think is exactly where Christara came in,” Darien murmured. “And she did not forgive him. She destroyed him. But you do not have that option.”
“If he was alive, I might have abandoned him at this point, tired of one too many betrayals,” she said. “But I do not have that luxury now. I must understand him and accept him, or lose even my memories of him. And I am not prepared to do that—not now. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.”
“I do not think,” Darien said, “you should consider it a weakness if you still love him. But I am sorry you had to learn something about your father so greatly to his discredit.”
“Which brings me again to the question you have not answered,” Zoe said. “How many people know the truth?”
He hesitated a moment, as if thinking even now he might avoid answering her, and then shrugged and capitulated. “It might be no more than five still living,” he said. “The king, Seterre, Elidon, me—and now you.”
“It is obvious why the king and Seterre know,” she said. “But I am not certain why you were included in the knowledge. Or even Elidon.”
He rubbed a fist against his forehead, as though his head hurt. She wouldn’t be surprised if it did; she wouldn’t even be sorry. “It’s complicated,” he said.
“Let me tell you what I have surmised,” she said. “At some point—whether during his first marriage or his second—the king comes to realize that he is the one who is sterile, not his brides. But he wants children—he wants his subjects to perceive him as a virile, vital man. So he enlists the aid of a trusted advisor to act as his substitute in the marriage bed. It would not have been difficult to gain my father’s consent to such a project. Quickly enough, the queen becomes pregnant. Elidon’s status as barren wife is cemented, while Seterre and Vernon celebrate their fertility. Josetta is born and all seems well. Until Christara discovers the truth and threatens to publish it. The king appeases her by banishing Navarr.”
“That outline is generally correct,” Darien replied.
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Zoe said. “If the king was complicit in the affair, he would have found a way to protect my father. He would have found a way to silence Christara. If nothing else, by telling her the truth!”
He eyed her soberly. “What you don’t realize is that the truth would not have mattered to Christara. Navarr Ardelay had been unfaithful to her daughter—one last time—and her daughter was dead. She could not forgive that, and the urgent necessity behind the infidelity was lost on her. The queen needed a lover to produce a child? Very well, there were any number of men in the city who could have fulfilled that role, men who were not married to Alieta Lalindar. Christara was filled with spite and rage, and she was determined to bring Navarr down. She began to criticize him publicly and privately—she opposed his every political proposal, she cast doubt on his character. But it wasn’t until she began whispering of treason that the king was forced to act.”
Zoe stared at him. “Treason? My father?”
He nodded. “The king’s only child was in fact Navarr Ardelay’s daughter. What if he made a bid for power? Tried to depose the king, set himself up as regent? It wasn’t so far-fetched. At first, Christara whispered these accusations only to Vernon and Elidon. But as her whispers grew louder—and she threatened to reveal the truth about Josetta to the rest of the court—Vernon finally had no choice but to send Navarr away.”
“I’m surprised no one thought my father would strike back by revealing the truth about Josetta anyway.”
“It was a risk,” Darien admitted. “But everyone knows a discredited man is liable to lie, and Seterre had no incentive to corroborate him. No, it seemed safe enough to banish him, despite the great service he had rendered his king.”
Zoe drew a long breath. She felt as if her mind had been shattered into fragments that would not be reassembled anytime soon, and once they were, the images in her head would bear little relation to the ones she had carried with her since childhood. Everything was changed; every one was changed.
“Given all the trouble it caused him to sire Josetta,” she said, “why would the king go through it all again to give Alys a child? And then Romelle?”
The look on his face was almost comically alarmed. “Have you made any discoveries regarding Corene and Natalie?” he demanded.
“No,” she said, and was annoyed to see him relax as if he had been reprieved from death. “But I cannot imagine that they are Vernon’s any more than Josetta is. So, after all the trouble surrounding my father’s disgrace, why did the king again take the risk of finding lovers for his wives?”
“That was Elidon’s influence, I think,” Darien replied. “She didn’t like the idea that Seterre would be the only queen to bear an heir. She also didn’t like the thought that Navarr might tell his brother the truth, and Nelson would try to force concessions for the Ardelays. Elidon has always been very interested in maintaining a balance of power, and she did not want Seterre—or the Ardelays—to wield too much.”
“It still surprises me that Elidon was included in this conversation at all.”
“Elidon has always been the king’s closest confidante,” Darien replied. “I think it is she who urged him to share his queens with proxies in the first place.”
“Did she also pick the proxies?” Zoe asked. “Who were the others? Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
Again he was silent a moment, as if he wanted to disclaim any knowledge, and then he made a tiny gesture of surrender. “In fact, I am not certain, but I can tell you the likeliest candidates,” he said. “I have always thought Wald Dochenza might be Corene’s father. He was much at court during that time, and clearly infatuated with Alys. Shortly after Corene was born, the Dochenzas entered a period of unparalleled prosperity. The king extended for another hundred years their property rights to a stretch of land where they mine their compressed gas—which has made the Dochenzas extraordinarily wealthy.”
If Wald had been Alys’s lover, it explained why the queen had so much hatred for poor Gildis Fairley, whose only crime had been a rumored liaison with the Dochenza man. But at the moment, Zoe had little interest in Alys or sympathy for her victims. She could think only of her father and the injustice done to him. She could not keep the bitter tone from her voice when she said, “So this time, the man who is presumed to have bedded the queen is considered to have rendered a valuable service to the crown,” Zoe said. “This time his family is rewarded, not banished.”
“It is very unfair, I know. If it mollifies you at all, the king was very grateful to your father until Christara took a hand.”
She shook her head, as if t
o say it didn’t matter, though it did. “Who is Wald Dochenza?” she asked. “Kayle’s son?”
“His nephew. A dreamy young romantic who didn’t realize that Alys would discard him once she had achieved her purpose.”
“I don’t think I’ve met him in Chialto.”
“Perhaps not. He comes to the city only rarely. Alys claims she never sees him, but, of course, I always assume everything she says is a lie, so who knows?”
“What about Princess Natalie?” Zoe asked. “Who is her father?”
“I don’t even have a good guess for her,” Darien said. “But I have always thought it was a man picked out by Taro Frothen. If you want to make sure someone conceives a child with a minimum of fuss, you could hardly do better than ask the torz prime to find her the right partner.”
“It makes sense,” Zoe said. “Since Seterre is hunti and my father and Alys are sweela—this would be a very good time to bring elay and torz men into the mix.”
“Yes, I have always thought that was Elidon’s reasoning,” he replied. “If she indeed had a say in determining the queens’ lovers. I find it hard to believe Alys, at least, would bed any man on Elidon’s recommendation. In fact, I heard whispers that Alys enjoyed her extramarital relations a little too much, not confining herself to one man.”
“Then no one can be certain Wald Dochenza is truly Corene’s father.”
Darien studied her a moment in silence. “I beg you will not take it upon yourself to discover the truth one way or another. As Corene cannot possibly be your father’s child—and neither can Natalie—I do not see that it can matter to you at all.”
She almost smiled. “I have an affinity for blood, which gives me an interest in bloodlines,” she said. “But Corene is even less open to casual contact than Josetta, so I do not imagine she will be allowing me to touch her hand anytime soon. And I have no interest in holding Natalie, who is always throwing a tantrum.”
“I wish I could say that put me at ease.”
Now she did laugh, very slightly. She was feeling so crushed it was hard to allow herself to expand to humor. “One thing I still don’t understand,” she said. “Why are you among the ones who knows the truth about Josetta?”
“Because my father knew,” he said wearily. “He helped set up the assignations in the palace. Your father would arrive on the pretext of visiting mine.” He shrugged. “I was a young idealist then—barely eighteen—and I believed that our secret work was essential to the preservation of the crown. Who knows? Maybe it was. But I would not be so eager to pursue such activities now.”
“Another thing surprises me, at least a little,” she said. “Seterre does not behave oddly around me at all. Oh, she pretends to want to be my friend, and she brings up my father’s name now and then, but she does not seem—self-conscious, I suppose I mean. If I was trying to make idle conversation with my former lover’s daughter, I think I would be nervous and strange. And if I had truly loved him, I would be affectionate and emotional. But that is not the sense I get from her at all.”
“As to that—” He hesitated, then spread his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “As to that, it is possible she does not know that Navarr Ardelay was the man in her bed,” he said.
“But surely—”
“My father said that Navarr was brought to her in a great deal of stealth and that Elidon impressed on both of them the value of secrecy. He said that Seterre played along, agreeing to wear a blindfold and never ask her lover’s name, but—well—no one was in the room with them when they . . . when they carried out their task.” He risked a quick look at her; she was surprised to see him blushing, embarrassed by the specifics of the conversation. “I don’t know if Navarr was the kind of man who would enter into the spirit of such intrigue—”
“Oh, he was exactly that kind of man!” Zoe exclaimed. She knotted her hands to keep from clasping and unclasping them; she had grown a little calmer as they discussed the role of other people in that bedroom farce, but once they were focused on her father again she found it difficult to sit still. “He loved secrets and disguises and puzzles and tricks. It would not surprise me at all to learn he entered the room wearing a mask and speaking in an assumed accent! He would be delighted with such a part! And then, the following day, to sit beside her at a formal dinner and speak casually of inconsequential things—nothing could have entertained him more.”
Darien nodded. “So. It is possible that Seterre is not dissembling when she treats you as the daughter of a man she liked, but did not know particularly well. Your next conversation with Seterre may well be strange to you, but she will not know why you are suddenly ill at ease.”
She knew what he would say, but she could not resist the temptation to bait him. “So then you think I shouldn’t mention to her that I have discovered her secret?”
He sat up so suddenly that his chair rocked; she thought it might turn over. “Of course you shouldn’t!” he exclaimed. “Why would you—”
“I never liked being an only child,” she said, still deliberately provoking him. “And now to discover that I have a half sister—”
“You cannot claim her,” he said. “You can befriend her, if you like, if your attentions do not seem too singular, but you cannot expose her. Zoe, you cannot.”
“Why not? Where is the danger? Where is the harm?” She made an indecisive motion. “In fact, perhaps such an announcement would avoid harm. If it was revealed that Josetta was not the king’s daughter, perhaps she would no longer be in danger. Perhaps she would be removed from the succession. She would be safe. Although, the corollary questions would soon arise—and I imagine life at the palace would get very interesting for all the wives—”
He leaned forward now, elbows on his legs, linked hands between his knees. “You’re joking,” he said, keeping his voice steady with what seemed to be an effort. “You’re just tormenting me. You wouldn’t do anything so catastrophic.”
She tilted her head. “You ascribe to me more kindness than I might possess. I have been exiled from society too long to care about other people’s scandals.”
“You have suffered too much for your father’s actions to want to see other girls put through a similar kind of disgrace,” he said sharply.
She shrugged and flopped back against the chair. Suddenly she was so tired. It was amazing how much energy it took to juggle rage and humiliation and astonishment, particularly for someone who hadn’t slept very well. “The truth is, I don’t care about this knowledge within the context of the palace walls,” she said. “I don’t care who is king and I don’t care who is heir. I don’t care what families are in favor and what families are banned from court. I am angry at my father and curious about my sister, and none of the rest of it matters to me.”
“Then will you promise—”
“No,” she cut him off. “I won’t promise anything. It wouldn’t matter to me if you were to lie awake every night wondering what I might do or say next. But I see no value in rearranging the lives of every child living at the court or exposing the lies of the king and his women. If I ever do, you can be certain that I will speak up, no matter who bids me keep silence.”
Darien said nothing for a moment, as if she had proposed a deal and he was considering its terms. Finally he nodded. “I suppose that is the best I can expect you to offer.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Is there anything you would ask of me in return?”
Zoe watched him a long moment. That narrow face did not look so arrogant now; she could not think he had had an easy time of it these past few days, either. He had been one of those frantic men on the boat, rowing desperately to Josetta’s rescue, and he must have spent hours questioning anyone who could have been implicated in the attempted murder. No wonder he had been short-tempered when he confronted her after her sudden disappearance. And her revelations tonight had unquestionably added to his mound of worries.
She didn’t feel sorry for him, though. He could choose to trus
t her. He could choose to confide in her. He could choose to tell her secrets that, even now, she was sure he kept. He would find any coru woman much more manageable if he worked with her instead of attempting to block her at every turn.
“Is there anything I would ask of you?” she repeated. “How about dinner?”
The transformation of his face was amazing to see. The weariness dropped away, making him appear much younger; the laughter warmed his gray eyes, softened his stern mouth. “Dinner I will be happy to provide,” he said. He came to his feet and extended his hand. “Come. I know just the place to take you.”
She allowed him to pull her up, but he did not immediately drop her hand. For a moment, they stood unexpectedly close, hemmed in together by the placement of the chairs before the fire. It was the first time all night that Zoe had felt warm.
“I was moved and astounded by your ability to control the Marisi on changeday,” Darien murmured. “I was never so afraid for anyone in my life as I was for Josetta when I saw her floating down the river. I knew she would die. I knew there was no saving her. And then you—” He shook his head, apparently unable to find words. “I would have come to you the next morning—before you were awake, even!—to express my gratitude and amazement, but I had already left the palace. I headed straight to the southern harbors, and I didn’t get back until a few hours ago.”
Only to find that Zoe had fled the palace. She began to feel a little sorry for giving him something else to worry about. Another detail to take care of, when it was clear he was responsible for so many.
“I would have asked, as soon as I saw you, how you had recovered from the ordeal, for I saw you carried away in your cousin’s arms. I knew such an immense effort had drained all the strength from your body. I would have come to you, anxious and frantic. I just didn’t have the time.”