Guardian of the Crown

by Melissa McShane

  “You think this is enough?”

  “No. If you were a…lord in Aurilien, I would offer amends—something concrete, usually a payment or a public statement. But that would place the burden of response on you, and I told you I don’t expect anything from you.”

  Fariola was silent for a moment. Willow kept her hands from winding tightly into the silk of her dress. Finally, Fariola said, “You abase yourself. No Eskandelic woman would do so unreservedly.”

  “I’m not Eskandelic. I’ve done my best to abide by your rules, but there are some things in which I have to be Tremontanan. And by my rules, I can stand proud.”

  “You would give me such power over you?”

  “That’s up to you.” Willow swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “But I think you prize honor and plain speaking, so I think you’re not going to leave it at that.”

  Fariola’s jaw went rigid briefly. “What do you imply?”

  “In your culture, you’d demand something in return for an apology, right? I don’t want anything but the answer to a question. Why did you attack Felix that night? Why push the issue of him being an impostor when you know full well he isn’t?”

  “I testing him was,” Fariola said. “A King cannot weak be, even if he a child is. Your King unprepared for the question was. You at fault for that are, Willow North.”

  “I am? Those questions are supposed to be directed at me! That’s my job as his eskarna and guardian.”

  “You cannot protect him from everything. He must answer his own questions eventually. You his strength and his weakness are. I say Felix Valant unsuited King of Tremontane to be is.”

  “That—” Willow had to turn away, bite back a reply that would ruin everything she’d worked so hard to regain. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”

  Fariola smiled. “That cost you much to say, I think.”

  “I disagree with you. Felix is young, yes, but he’ll have good advisers and he’ll learn.”

  “With you as one of them.”

  “I don’t understand politics. I’m his guardian.”

  To Willow’s surprise, Fariola chuckled. “You understand more than you think. Do not…” She said something fluid in Eskandelic. “It a phrase is that means thinking less of your abilities than you should and thereby losing a greater good. False humility. If Felix Valant regains the Crown, you should remain as his adviser, not just his guardian. This the opinion of one well versed in politics is. Do not disregard me.”

  “I…all right.”

  Fariola smoothed her skirt over her knees. “I will not apologize, because I did nothing wrong,” she said. “But…you may tell Serjian Janida that Hajimhi Principality asks for a khojabi, at their earliest convenience.”

  “Khojabi,” Willow repeated.

  “At their earliest convenience. You must say this to them this as well.”

  “I will.”

  Fariola stood, so Willow scrambled to her feet and returned the woman’s bow, not trying very hard to match her depth for depth. Then she turned and left, feeling Fariola’s gaze sharp on the back of her neck. The cool appearance of the room was an illusion; she was sweating as if she’d run the length of Lower Town at noon on Midsummer Day. Had that been a victory, or no? She needed to talk to Janida immediately.

  Back at the Residence, she ran through the halls—she couldn’t get any sweatier than she already was, right?—to the harem chamber, where she found Maitea and Janida in conversation that broke off when she entered. “Hajimhi Principality wants a…a khojabi at your earliest convenience,” she panted.

  Maitea’s eyebrows climbed nearly to her hairline. “How do you know this?” Janida said. She looked as expressionless as Fariola had.

  “Because I talked to Hajimhi Fariola this morning, to apologize for what happened at the party.” Willow braced herself for an outpouring of fury.

  “You did what?” Maitea shouted. “A fool, are you? Wish to ruin all Felix’s chances, do you?”

  “I don’t think I made it worse. What’s a khojabi?”

  “There are rules about these things. You did not even ask for advice.” Maitea looked as if she might explode.

  “She succeeded,” Janida said.

  “Yes, but out of luck, no doubt,” said Maitea.

  “I will take luck where I cannot have skill,” Janida said. “A khojabi is a request for a meeting, but not of equals.”

  “I’m sorry,” Willow said. “I gave her more power over us, didn’t I?”

  “Hajimhi Fariola acknowledges in requesting this meeting that she the supplicant and therefore of lesser status is.” Janida stood and gave the bell-pull near the door a good hard yank. “And ‘earliest convenience’ means, contrariwise, that we to set the time and place are, ceding power to us.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would she do that?”

  “Because Fariola acted hastily in rescinding Gessala’s offer,” Maitea said, “and she essentially prostrates herself and Hajimhi Principality in the hope that we will overlook her bad behavior. What did you say to her?”

  “I just apologized for being rude. I told her I didn’t expect anything from her in return.”

  Maitea and Janida looked at each other. Then both women began laughing. Willow looked from one to the other. “I don’t see the joke,” she said irritably.

  “You put Fariola in a terrible position,” Janida said. “You humbled yourself without asking a reciprocal favor, which took away her power over you. Renewing their offer to Gessala is her response. It…I cannot explain easily.”

  “I think I understand,” Willow said. “If I were Eskandelic, I’d have, what, asked for her forgiveness? And then she’d have been magnanimous in giving it to me and she’d have power over me. But I didn’t ask for anything, which gave me power over her. So to regain that balance, she had to offer something, and since she never really wanted to rescind the offer to Gessala, she can ask you to accept it again. But that puts her in our power again, so…does that mean Hajimhi will have to vote our way? Because she was pretty clear she doesn’t think Felix should be King.”

  “Hajimhi is pragmatic as well as honorable,” Maitea said. “We will say nothing of the vote at the khojabi, but they will judge our behavior and make a decision. And a vote for our question is not necessarily a vote for Felix, but for the vojenta mahaut.”

  “You see clearly,” Janida said. “Though you wise to go untutored to Hajimhi were not. Maitea is right. You might have ruined things further.”

  “It’s true.” Willow sat and took a small pillow in her hands, turned it around. “But I think it’s truer that I’m not Eskandelic, I’m Tremontanan, and everyone knows that. I’ll do my best to honor your customs, but I’m never going to have the knowledge you do. And I think most of the principalities respect that. And the ones who don’t—well, we’re not going to win them over, are we?”

  “True,” Janida said. “And since you have succeeded, I see no reason to chastise you further.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “Do not try my patience, Willow North,” Janida said, but she was smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Jauderish was no cooler than the last time Willow had been there, the day of the opening of Conclave. The antechamber was at least shielded from the sun, which only meant the day outside was broiling. The dozens of arches and pillars glowed as if their yellow stone was lit from within, though Willow realized this time she couldn’t see any light sources in the vast hall other than what came through the entrance. The gilding around the tops of the arches and the bases of the pillars was a low-grade burning that she easily ignored, but she stayed as far from the tingling brass front doors as she could manage.

  She hoped Janida wouldn’t think anything of how she kept close to the second set of doors, the ones that led to the Conclave bowl and were made of wood instead of metal. It wasn’t a comfortable position, with gusts of warm air blowing through the doors at unexpected times, but Will
ow far preferred it to the sensation of being trapped in a jar full of brass bees.

  The sound of rhythmic Eskandelic came to her ears again. She was certain it was unintelligible even to those who spoke the language, because the Prince currently giving his speech stood at the bottom of the bowl, near the Solstice altar. The bowl was awe-inspiring, big enough to hold ten thousand people, but much farther than halfway up it swallowed the words of anyone speaking.

  Willow twitched the neck of her sheer blue robe and listened with half an ear to Felix’s chatter. It was about the zoological collection, and she’d heard it all before. The boy must be bored out of his mind, just standing there watching people who were staring openly at him. Or maybe she should be grateful he could talk instead of being overwhelmed. She was too warm to be overwhelmed. The heavy white linen of the trousers and loose shirt she wore under the robe made her sweat, and she was grateful it wasn’t also shot with real silver.

  “Willow, are you listening? I asked when we can eat.” Felix tugged on her hand.

  “I’m sorry, Felix, I was thinking about something else. Janida said we don’t eat until after all the speeches are done. So it will be later.”

  “I’m hungry now,” Felix said, but he didn’t sound unhappy. “Why doesn’t anyone try to talk to us?”

  “I don’t know.” All right, so she was a little overwhelmed by the attention. She wished she could read their minds, all these Eskandelic royalty passing and whispering things to one another about the Tremontanan strangers intruding on one of their most important political meetings. She smiled and nodded at anyone whose eye she met, but she was starting to wish Janida hadn’t insisted on her and Felix being present.

  “Enjoying yourself?” Kerish emerged from the crowd, smiling in a way that eased Willow’s heart considerably. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Hilarion says we have to endure what we can’t avoid,” Felix said, “but I think he would be bored, too.”

  “It’s more interesting when you can understand the speeches,” Kerish said. “Most of them are rhetorical masterpieces. They collect them every year and make copies for the libraries.”

  “What’s this one about?” Willow said.

  Kerish rolled his eyes. “An exception to the rule. It’s about tariff reform and I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so dull. It’s why things are so crowded up here right now. Most of the principalities have already made up their minds how they’re going to vote on the question and don’t need to listen to Nersesji Gharan drone on about how it will be disastrous for Eskandel.”

  “When will Salveri speak?”

  “Second to last. We lost the draw on that. Mahnouki Ghanetan is going to speak last.” Kerish looked grim. “That’s not the best position for us to be in.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “At any rate, there are about another half-dozen speakers before my father, so—I wish I could provide entertainment for you.” He stepped closer and said, in a lower voice, “What I wish is that I could find us a quiet, private corner. You look extraordinary in dark blue.”

  “Your mother would kill us both. She made it clear we can’t let it look like Serjian has a personal interest in this question. But I don’t see how we can help it. You and I were conspicuously together at the sheteshi.”

  “That was different. This is…official, I suppose you might say. Much as I might wish otherwise. I don’t like how some of my acquaintances are looking at you.”

  “Are they really? I hadn’t noticed. Any of them who might be worth meeting? I’m not attached to anyone right now, according to Janida.”

  “You have such a sense of humor.” Kerish touched her hand briefly. “I would introduce you, but Mother said you were to remain available for conversation. Not that anyone seems interested in doing more than stare. Sorry.”

  “That’s all right.”

  The babble of Eskandelic from the doors ceased. Moments later, the volume of conversation in the antechamber increased as men and women pressed forward through the wooden doors toward the Conclave bowl. Willow took Felix’s hand and drew him nearer. “Should we go in?” she asked Kerish.

  “We’ll wait for the crowd to pass,” he said. “There’s a ten-minute recess between speakers so everyone has a chance to get settled, but we’re sitting above the principalities, so we shouldn’t need that long to reach our seats.”

  “I’m tired, Willow.”

  “I know, Felix, but you have to be patient. It’s only a few hours longer.”

  “Can we go to the scholia afterward?”

  “Maybe. Let’s—”

  A strident voice said something in Eskandelic that made Kerish turn around fast, his hand on his sword. Willow flexed her wrist, feeling the comforting pressure of her knife, and put Felix behind her, close to his guards, who hadn’t moved forward in response to the threat.

  She turned to see Abakian Raena bearing down on them, her small eyes narrowed in anger. She spoke again, vicious, harsh words whose content Willow could guess.

  “You aren’t a fool, Abakian Raena,” Kerish said, “so I know you didn’t just threaten the King.”

  “You spread lies,” Raena said, coming to a stop inches from Willow. “I will not allow it to be so.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Willow lied. “What lies are those?”

  Raena’s face reddened. “Abakian does not do the bidding of a foreign King. You have no proof.”

  “I think, if I didn’t have proof, you wouldn’t be so worried. And I think you’re exactly the sort of person who’d try to kill a defenseless child. Why else would you come to me here, trying to frighten him, instead of taking it up with Serjian Janida?” She gripped Felix’s hand tighter and felt him press into her side, and prayed he wouldn’t display whatever fear he felt.

  Behind Raena, a giant of a man loomed. Abakian Terjalesh was impassive except for his eyes, which gleamed hatred at her. He, too, had his hand on his sword hilt, and Willow chased away a moment’s fear at his size and menace. “Majdran,” he rumbled, “does this touch your honor?”

  “It does, my zuareto,” she replied.

  In an instant Kerish had his sword drawn and stood between Raena and Willow, who took a step backward in surprise. “Then let’s settle this as honorable men,” he said.

  Terjalesh’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open slightly. “I fight the woman,” he said. “She a thief is.”

  “You have no proof,” Kerish said, “and her honor is mine. Go ahead, Terjalesh. Draw your sword.”

  “She must fight,” Raena said.

  “Much as I’d like to see her humiliate your zuareto,” Kerish said, “the laws of the honor duel permit the challenged to choose a champion. Which I assure you she has.”

  Willow became aware that all conversation around them had stopped. They were surrounded by a ring of onlookers, men and women as intent on the confrontation as they’d been on Willow and Felix earlier. “Kerish,” she began.

  “Don’t worry, Willow,” Kerish said. “Well, Terjalesh?”

  For a moment, Willow was sure the big man was going to back down. His eyes darted from Kerish to his majdran to the crowd without pause. Then his eyes narrowed, and he drew his sword, a massive thing that looked more like a bludgeoning weapon than Kerish’s elegant slim blade. He said something in Eskandelic that Kerish answered. Willow couldn’t see Kerish’s face, but his tone of voice was tense, challenging. Willow grabbed Felix and retreated just as the rest of the crowd did the same, backing away through the many pillars that surely weren’t the best ground for a duel.

  Terjalesh growled and swung at Kerish’s head. Kerish dodged and struck, faster than Willow could follow, a blow Terjalesh only barely deflected. He swung again, and Kerish again dodged the ungainly blow, this time taking a step backward.

  Terjalesh grinned. He pressed the attack, forcing Kerish back. Kerish dodged each stroke easily, but kept backing away, and Willow discovered she had her fists clenched. Why didn�
��t he attack? He was going to be trapped against a pillar eventually, and it would all be over.

  She heard murmuring nearby, and saw a couple of Eskandelic men exchanging words that even she could tell meant they were betting on the outcome. “Stop it,” she said. “Stop!”

  They looked at her as if she were crazy. One of them said, “Is good, not to worry.”

  “This isn’t—”

  She heard a clang, and turned her attention back to the fight. Sweet heaven, it had happened, Kerish had his back to a pillar and Terjalesh’s sword had just connected with it beside his head. She could see Kerish’s face, and he was…smiling?

  Kerish brought his sword up to catch Terjalesh’s next wild swing, forcing him back and around so Kerish was away from the pillar. He slashed, parried, slashed again, and now Terjalesh was the one backing away, stumbling over his own feet. Kerish bore down on him relentlessly, his sword flicking in and out so fast Willow could barely follow. Terjalesh looked terrified, and his swings grew wilder, not connecting with anything but air.

  Then he grunted, and folded up over Kerish’s sword emerging from his stomach. Raena screamed. It happened so quickly Willow missed the blow, just saw the sword stuck through the big man’s body like a pin impaling the world’s ugliest butterfly. Kerish stood with his hand on the hilt, breathing heavily, speaking something to Terjalesh Willow couldn’t hear. Terjalesh nodded.

  Raena screamed again. Kerish withdrew his sword and wiped it on Terjalesh’s shirt. “If you take him to the healers quickly, he’ll live,” he said, then called out something in Eskandelic. The watching crowd roared an assent. Kerish turned his back on the Abakians and returned to Willow’s side, sheathing his sword. “You weren’t worried, were you?” he asked.

  Willow unclenched her fist. “Of course not,” she said.

  Kerish smiled. “An honor duel is…it’s not just about who wins, but how you fight it. I had to make it clear that I controlled that fight down to the last stroke. And in giving ground like that, I made Terjalesh look like a fool for daring to challenge me. I was never in any danger except maybe from falling over laughing.”