Iron Garland (Harbinger Book 3)

by Jeff Wheeler

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I don’t know what to believe right now. I thought you were coming as a . . . under different . . .” He trailed off, at a loss for words, his hands held up in confusion.

  Sera gave him a chance to find his words as they continued to walk, but he looked increasingly vexed, and she didn’t want him to become angrier with her. “What do you remember of our first meeting at Pavenham Sky?”

  Her question caught him off guard again, and his eyes narrowed. “You mean after I dropped the platter or before?” They had reached the fountain and now stood near it.

  The memory brought another smile to her face. “What do you remember about me?”

  “You stood apart from the other young ladies,” he replied seriously. “And you frankly surprised me when you came to offer assistance after I bumbled that disguise and broke a glass. Tell me true, had someone told you who I was? Before or after?”

  Sera shook her head. “No one told me. Well, that’s not entirely true. The Knowing told me.”

  His eyebrows arched.

  She gazed at his face. “I knew it as assuredly as I’m standing before you now. I thought your disguise a clever one if a bit disingenuous.”

  “I didn’t have much time to choose a wife,” he replied evasively. “It was a ploy, for certain, but with the intention of securing happiness. I’m sure any of those in attendance would have dissembled well enough had they known I was there.”

  “I agree. You do get to know someone better if there aren’t any pretenses. Which is why I am being so candid with you. I felt then, and still do, that you are motivated by honorable intentions. You are doing what you feel is right and true. So am I. There has been this ill blood between our realms for so many years, caused in part by envy and perhaps a mutual failure to understand each other’s beliefs. I crossed the mirror gate today in the hopes you and I might begin to bridge that gulf. Like you, I don’t have much time. But I hoped that if we put our minds together, we might come up with a solution to benefit both our sides.”

  His eyes were an interesting warm brown, with a small band of green flecks around the pupil. She had noticed them when they were crouching over the shards of a broken glass together that day in Pavenham Sky. But she’d been more caught up in the embarrassment of the moment and the subsequent understanding of his true identity.

  “I’m beginning to discern where I stand in your eyes,” he said, his voice tinged with disappointment.

  She didn’t like the change in his tone, his growing wariness. “What do you mean?”

  His nostrils flared just slightly. “You came here seeking an ally. Not a husband. A solution that benefits both sides. If you had your way, you’d be empress. You’re still grasping for it. And you need my help to achieve your ends.”

  The look of anger darkened, and he turned and walked away from her, leaving her alone by the fountain.

  After wandering alone in the gardens for a while, Sera approached a servant and asked to be taken to her room. The palace was elegant and decorated with the finest works of art and craftsmanship from the court as well as the riches of foreign worlds. The soldiers lining the main corridors wore breastplates and helmets over their colored tunics, each of them holding a flag bearing the insignia of Kingfountain. The floor was made of polished marble tiles with alternating colors, arranged to form different geometric designs. There were statues in the small alcoves instead of Leerings.

  When she arrived at her chambers, she found her four escorts awaiting her there. Colonel Worthington was pacing and scowling, but the others were lounging on the furniture and taking part in the refreshment. Master Baggles was stifling an enormous yawn, which reminded Sera that while it was not yet noon in Kingfountain, it was late in the evening back in the empire. Catching himself in the yawn, Baggles hastily sat up and stifled it.

  “There you are, Your Majesty,” said the colonel accusingly. “So you’ve met with the prince already. How did it go?”

  Mr. Pond turned from the window and approached her inquisitively.

  “Don’t you all have your own staterooms?” Sera asked as she strode in. Becka stood by the study table, arranging Sera’s books there. If the men had discussed anything she needed to know, her maid would be able to inform her.

  “Of course we do, but we wanted to know the moment you arrived,” Worthington said.

  “Why don’t you all return to your own rooms,” Sera suggested. “When I am ready to seek your advice, I will send my maid for you.”

  Worthington glowered at her dismissal. “Your Highness, I don’t think you recognize—”

  “I’m tired, Colonel,” she said, cutting him off. “When I need your help, I will ask for it.”

  His scowl only deepened. No doubt Lord Welles had given him special orders concerning his role in the peace negotiations. He flashed her a look of fury and then strode to the door. The other three left as well, Baggles yawning again while Mr. Pond snatched another treat from the tray on the serving table.

  When the door was shut, Sera let out her breath.

  The stateroom was enormous, the ceilings high and upheld by tall pillars. The ceiling had been painted and decorated with intriguing scenes awash in color. She walked to the nearest window and pushed aside the thin veil. She was on an upper level overlooking another set of gardens, but the windows also overlooked the river and the sanctuary and the enormous waterfall. It was a stunning view, one chosen to please her. The floor was made of alternating black and white tiles, like the Wizr boards she’d learned about.

  “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?” Becka asked, having quietly approached her from behind.

  Sera smiled at the girl’s thoughtfulness. “It’s quite a view, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yes,” Becka agreed eagerly. “Everything is so different here.” Becka touched the glass with a faraway look in her eye as she stared outside. “The colonel has everyone else under orders. He said they should report anything suspicious to him. Oh, and he also said the palace is full of spies, so they should all be wary of what they say.”

  “That is very helpful, Becka. Thank you for being watchful.”

  Kingfountain was an enormous realm, all unified under a single king. She knew there were other kings who paid homage to the hollow crown. There was no parliament, no assembly of experts elected for their skills and abilities. Kingfountain was still a hereditary monarchy. The rule would go to the eldest son, regardless of his qualifications or aptitude. Still, she could hardly deny that Trevon seemed capable. He’d been groomed for the burden of leadership.

  “Are you tired, Becka? Do you want to rest?”

  “No, ma’am. I can still work.”

  Sera turned away from the window, looking at the huge room again, the enormous bed piled with blankets and an assortment of pillows. There were three grates filled with a small lump of burning coals, but the room was already a comfortable temperature. Not a single Leering. Ah, well. She’d never been all that good with them anyway.

  “The fashions here are quite different,” Sera said.

  “They are, ma’am.”

  Sera thought for a moment. The king and queen had invited her to dinner that evening. She would be on display. Her insides still twisted with worry at the prince’s final words to her before stalking off. Had he already revealed all to his parents? Would they send her back to Lockhaven in disgrace? She wished she knew what it would take for her to win Trevon’s trust and support. A peace treaty would benefit them both. And were there not certain technologies that Kingfountain craved? Surely a matrimonial alliance couldn’t be the only acceptable outcome?

  Sera pursed her lips, thinking hard. She needed to keep things moving forward. To give them reason to believe that she wanted to broker an armistice.

  “Becka, I need you to do something for me. I’ll be joining the prince and his family for dinner. I don’t want to wear one of the gowns we brought. I want you to find one from this land. Something pretty but not too fancy or revealing. If you can,
bring me several to choose from and try on.”

  “I will,” Becka said. “One of the servants told me to find her if you need anything. She’s the maid for the prince’s sisters.”

  “Good,” Sera said, pleased. “See what you can manage.”

  Becka left, and Sera began to pace the large room, replaying the scene in the garden again and again in her mind. She thought back to Trevon’s reactions, his facial expressions, and how he’d held himself. She’d flustered him, probably more than once. If he were younger, he might indeed have gone to his parents to complain. But they had left it to him to negotiate the treaty. If he wanted to display his wisdom and judgment, he’d hesitate to consult them. He’d seek out another advisor, someone else he trusted. Sera entwined her fingers and then tapped her lips with them. As she paced, brooding about the encounter, she explored the stateroom. There was a darker antechamber with a huge stone-tile bath, surrounded by opened curtains, and a number of various closets and side rooms.

  After some time passed, a knock sounded on the door. It opened, admitting a man dressed in the style of her realm, except his outfit included a military sash and several medals pinned to his coat.

  “Welcome, Miss Fitzempress,” the man said with a bright smile. He was blond with a darker beard. His look was oily and obsequious, and she took an instant dislike to him. “My name is Lord Datchin. I’m the ambassador who has been negotiating the terms of your passage here.” He rubbed his earlobe as he entered, looking around for others and not finding anyone. “You’re alone?”

  “At present, Lord Datchin. Do come in, but leave the door wide open, please.”

  “Is that wise? Would not some privacy help against prying ears?”

  “After what I’ve been through of late, I’m sure you understand.”

  He gingerly rubbed the skin of his cheekbone as he sauntered into the room. “I’m given to understand that you are not as amenable . . . how shall I put this? To a union with the court of Kingfountain as presupposed?”

  “I’m not certain I understand you, Lord Datchin. Can you please be more clear?”

  “I’m given to understand . . . what I mean is . . . do you intend to marry the crown prince?”

  She gave him a perplexed look. “Isn’t that why I came here?”

  He looked surprised by her answer. “Well, Your Majesty, I’m quite sorry to have interrupted you.”

  The sound of footfalls from the corridor made them both look up. Becka had entered the room along with another young maid, each of them carrying two gowns. Lord Datchin turned in surprise as the girls brought the gowns over to the bed and began to arrange them next to each other.

  “Those look lovely,” Sera crooned, smiling with exaggerated delight as she made her way to them, bending to examine the fabric and style. Lord Datchin’s brow needled together in confusion as he watched the display unfold.

  “What are these for?” Lord Datchin asked in bewilderment.

  “I’m having dinner with the royal family tonight,” Sera explained brightly. “I want to make a good impression on them, naturally. To show that I’m willing to adopt their customs, their manners.” She touched one of the gowns, a gold-and-cream confection that would do wonders for her complexion.

  “So you are not going to wear something you brought? Something showing our fashions and sensibilities?”

  She gave a little laugh. “This is Kingfountain, not Lockhaven, Ambassador. Must we not try to fit in?”

  “I’m . . . I see I was mistaken.”

  “Thank you. If I need you, Ambassador, I will call for you. Now if you’ll let me change.”

  He bobbed his head and bowed deeply before hastening from the room. As the door closed, Sera smiled in triumph. She’d rather enjoyed outfoxing him.

  “What is your name?” she asked Becka’s companion.

  “My name is Liselle,” the girl answered in a thick accent, dropping to a curtsy.

  “Thank you for helping Becka,” she said. “These four all look very fine.”

  “If you pick which one you wish, ma’am, the seamstress can make sure it fits the best for dinner,” Liselle said.

  Sera tried them all on, one by one. There was an ornate mirror near the window, so she could study each dress in turn. Sera kept her opinions to herself. It felt strange—and strangely freeing—not to wear gloves or a hard bone bodice.

  Sera chose the gold-and-cream gown as her favorite and put it back on. The maids helped her prepare for dinner, providing an array of tasteful, understated embellishments to apply to her lips and cheeks and eyes. Sera decided in the end to wear her hair down instead of trying to mimic all the fashions of the new land, but she did wear the flower garland she’d been given earlier. Weariness settled on her. She’d been up all night and felt it keenly. But she was determined to make it through dinner before sleeping.

  When another servant came to announce dinner, Sera was ready and followed him out of the room, giving a wink of approval to Becka and Liselle before leaving. Her stomach churned again as she prepared herself for another encounter with the prince’s family. Some of the servants in the hall noticed her and blinked in surprise at her transformation.

  The dining hall was very different from what she was used to. No long tables at all, but a number of small round ones, probably twelve in all, each surrounded by six stuffed chairs. The tables were quite decorative, and each one had another round contrivance in the middle. Chandeliers hung from iron chains above each table, and they were lit with slender white candles. The royal family had already gathered, but no one was sitting yet. They were all watching her as she entered the room.

  There were looks of distrust on their faces still, and the queen examined Sera’s choice of gown with open curiosity. Prince Trevon approached, wearing a different costume than the one he’d had on earlier. He held out his arm for her. She noticed he was again wearing gloves, adopting her customs as she was adopting his.

  “We’ll be sitting together,” he said courteously, but his eyes were still full of misgivings.

  “I was hoping to,” she answered, looking up at him. She noticed the other emissaries from Lockhaven stood out from the rest in their traditional dress. They appeared quite uncomfortable in the strange circumstances. She felt unsettled as well, but she smiled and bowed her head before surveying the room.

  “We’ll be joined by two distinguished guests tonight,” the prince said as he escorted her to one of the tables. “General Montpensier has just arrived. And he brought with him a prisoner of war from the battle we recently fought. Someone you might recognize.” Sera gasped as they came closer to the table. Two men stood by it, and she recognized the haggard face of one of them instantly. Her expression widened with surprise and delight at the sight of him, and she covered her mouth and felt a rush of joy.

  “Lord Fitzroy!” she gasped aloud.

  CHAPTER TWENTY−TWO

  FALSE HARBINGER

  There was no mistaking the pleasure in Lord Fitzroy’s eyes upon seeing a familiar face at the court of Kingfountain. Sera rushed to him and took his hands in hers, her emotions shifting from wonder to gratitude to hope, all within seconds. News of his survival had not reached Lockhaven. Was that deliberate?

  “Hello, Sera,” Fitzroy said, looking at her with relief. He gave her hands a firm squeeze.

  “So this is the young Miss Fitzempress,” said the other man, sidling up next to them. He was much younger than Fitzroy, perhaps not much older than herself. He had a prominent forehead, paired with a small, rounded chin, and his visage rather reminded her of an upside-down pear. His hair was sandy brown, and he wore the military uniform of his kingdom, with large strips of buttons and shoulder epaulets. His eyes were cunning and inquisitive, and he regarded her with open curiosity.

  “We’ve not met,” Sera replied guardedly, “General Montpensier.”

  “Please, call me Leon,” he replied with a deep bow. “So you are the emperor’s illegitimate daughter,” he said with a brassy smile.r />
  His words shocked her, and she started, squeezing Fitzroy’s hands in return.

  “Please, General,” said the prince in a scolding tone. “She won’t be used to your teasing.”

  The general grinned at her. “They say the lord high admiral here is a harbinger.” His accent made the word sound a little ridiculous. “I am only exercising my prerogative to be one as well. If you guess enough times, you’re bound to pick it right once in a while, and that is all the people will remember, eh? No doubt your father will divorce his wife, marry another, and then find it convenient to declare you . . . illegitimate, just as was done to your ancestor, Empress Maia. Remember, Your Highness, you heard me say it first!”

  “General,” Trevon said with strained patience.

  “So you are the one who has been leading the armies against us,” Sera responded coolly.

  “Winning against you, you mean,” he said with a mocking tone. “Why else would they send you to negotiate a surrender?”

  Sera realized he was goading her deliberately. Testing her. There was an obvious strain between him and the prince. A rivalry of sorts. But Lady Corinne had taught her well. She wouldn’t rise to such open provocations.

  “Prince Trevon,” Sera said, turning her attention to him. “I love the flower garland. I’ve studied many plants, but I cannot recognize this variety.”

  “Those are magnolia blooms,” he replied. “They grow here at the palace. The leaves are woven into the garlands as well.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you. And thank you for bringing Lord Fitzroy to dinner.”

  “I brought him to dinner,” said the general.

  There was the tinkling sound of a bell, and all eyes turned to the head table. The king and queen had just seated themselves. The rest of the party followed, and Sera found herself sitting next to the prince. Fitzroy was across the table from her. She longed to speak to him, to share everything she’d discovered, but it wouldn’t do to show him too much attention and snub the prince. She would try to find time later.