by Jenna Glass
She considered the possibility for less than a minute before shaking her head. The last thing she needed, considering today’s performance, was to give Tamzin even the slightest bit more power or money. He was dangerous enough already. Any lady of rank would bring power and money to the marriage, but Ellin would have to make sure that money and power came from a sector over which he already had great influence so that his sway wouldn’t grow.
She was not entirely surprised when her private time was interrupted by the arrival of Lord Semsulin. A page showed him in, and he bowed deeply before accepting her invitation to sit in a chair in front of her desk. She still held the letter from Lady Alysoon, and she saw Lord Semsulin looking at it curiously. She rolled it up and set it aside.
“It seems King Aaltyn’s granddaughter is in search of a husband,” she said. Though she owed her chancellor no explanation, she was curious to see if he viewed the match as poorly as she did. “Her mother has written to me to inquire about Lord Tamzin.”
Semsulin’s head tilted to one side and his gaze became abstracted as he considered the prospect. “The king’s daughter is illegitimate,” he mused. “And her mother was the late abbess of Aaltah.”
Even when she’d been a princess with no thought of ruling, Ellin had had a passing familiarity with all the royal houses. She knew the story of King Aaltyn and his unfortunate first wife, and in some abstract way, she’d known it was the former queen who was responsible for the Curse. However, having not had sufficient time to think about the proposal, she had not yet seen that very obvious connection.
Lady Alysoon’s daughter was a direct descendant of the most reviled woman in the history of Seven Wells. That might make her nearly unmarriageable. If she weren’t also the granddaughter of a king with a commensurate dowry.
“So you think Lord Tamzin will not be open to the possibility?”
Semsulin snorted in amusement. “I’d say it depends on her dowry. I suspect there are many flaws he would happily overlook for the right price.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. She would never allow a daughter of hers to marry a man like Tamzin, and she had not failed to notice that Lady Alysoon had inquired not just about Tamzin’s availability but also about his character. Ellin hoped that meant young Jinnell Rah-Sylnin was not for sale to the highest bidder.
Ellin allowed herself a small smile of amusement as she realized she’d just thought of a girl only three years her junior as “young.” This past year—starting with her planned marriage to Zarsha of Nandel and ending with her taking the throne—had aged her what felt like a decade.
“And would such a match be to the benefit of Rhozinolm?” she asked. “Marriage to a king’s granddaughter might blunt some of Tamzin’s appetite for rebellion.”
Lord Semsulin smiled at her, which was rather disconcerting considering how rarely he wore that particular expression. “I’ve been on your council long enough to have taken your measure by now. I feel certain you’ve already answered your own question.”
She returned his smile. When she’d first taken the throne, he’d presumed complete naïveté on her part, and it had annoyed her. It seemed he was beginning to see her in a different light, which was heartening when her other most powerful councilors continued to regard her as a weak female with no experience and only borrowed authority.
“Maybe I should point Lady Alysoon toward Zarsha,” she said. Not only was Zarsha the kind of good and charming man who would make most girls swoon, a tempting prospect such as Jinnell Rah-Sylnin might finally cause Zarsha to give up his vain pursuit of Ellin. She couldn’t help thinking that his appointment as “special envoy” had more to do with his hopes of winning her hand—as impossible as such a prospect seemed—than truly serving as an envoy.
Two months into her reign, Ellin had finally come to accept that her initial dislike of Zarsha had been entirely unfounded. He’d been the wedge that separated her from Graesan, and she’d almost reflexively hated him for it. Now that she saw him with much clearer eyes, she believed that he was at heart a good man and would make a good husband for the right girl.
“If the lady is willing to consider sending her daughter to Nandel, then I’m sure she has already contacted him. But in truth we have a much more important marriage we must discuss.”
Ellin heaved a sigh, knowing full well whose marriage Semsulin found so vital. “It’s only been two months since nearly my entire family died. You can’t seriously expect me to entertain marriage proposals so soon.”
“Of course I can. You don’t have to accept any marriage proposals, but you do have to entertain them.”
“I’m in mourning!” she snapped, as if he hadn’t heard her the first time.
He gave her a stern look that would have done her father proud. “Not so much in mourning that you haven’t insisted on a coronation ceremony.”
“It is traditional to crown the new king within his first six months on the throne,” she said archly, but this was treading the same ground as all her previous “discussions” about the coronation with Semsulin. He had warned her that insisting on a coronation would anger her opponents, but she was adamant that she not be treated as a temporary ruler. If she were a king, she would be crowned despite the mourning, and she saw no reason that the same rule should not apply to her as queen.
“If you’re willing to violate your mourning for a coronation, then you should be willing to do so for the vital business of determining the identity of our next king.”
For all the respect she felt she had earned from Semsulin, even he habitually treated her as a temporary ruler. Which, of course, she was, but that didn’t mean she had to act like it. “I will begin considering my prospects as soon as I’m crowned and not a day before.”
The thought of reviewing her marriage prospects was enough to make her sick to her stomach. She had once entertained some hope that taking Graesan to her bed would help her get him out of her system, that once she’d experienced the mysteries propriety had so long denied them, she would be satisfied and ready to face reality.
Once again, she had proven herself embarrassingly naïve. With Star’s help, she now spent as many nights as she could with Graesan, and far from becoming sated, she found her need for him seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. To look for a husband was to acknowledge that one day, she would have to give him up and break both their hearts.
Semsulin continued to give her that sternly paternal stare. “Since the decision about the coronation, I’ve heard the first stirrings of a disturbing rumor.”
She watched him warily. “What rumor?”
“There are those who speculate that you have insisted on being crowned and have not yet begun considering potential marriages because you have no intention of ceding the throne.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She forced herself to hold his gaze and not squirm. He would not find the true reason she was avoiding talk of marriage any more palatable.
“How is it ridiculous for me to point out a rumor that has started?”
“It’s a ridiculous rumor. One that I’m surprised you’ve chosen to dignify by bringing it to me. I’ve made it very clear why I want to be crowned and why I won’t discuss marriage yet. No one with any sense would interpret that to mean I’m planning to hold the throne.”
Semsulin folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, the very picture of skepticism. “Even if the rumor were as ridiculous as you claim, you have to see how happily your enemies will pounce on it and spread it.”
Unfortunately, he was right. Semsulin and the council had hoped that by putting Ellin on the throne, they could deprive both Tamzin and Kailindar of anything resembling a rallying cry for war. If one or both of them could convince the council that she planned to keep the throne for herself, that might be the very cause they needed to raise a rebellion. The rich and powerful men of Rhozinolm had always cons
idered women the lesser sex, and that impression had not been improved by the unleashing of the Curse. The loss of life from the earthquake had been tragic—there had been casualties near every Well, though nowhere as devastating as in Aalwell—but the effects were continuing to be seen as marriage arrangements now had to take into account the bride’s willingness to provide an heir. And there had been more divorces over the past two months than there had been over the previous two years.
Semsulin pressed his advantage. “If you want your throne to be secure, you must at least give the restive nobles a reason to believe you are working toward a marriage.”
She furrowed her brow at his choice of words. “ ‘A reason to believe’?”
“That’s all you need to quiet the rumors right now. It stands to reason that Lord Tamzin is behind them and that your refusal to discuss marriage arrangements creates the fertile soil he needs in which to make those rumors grow. You need to salt the fields so that the rumors can’t take root.”
Was she imagining things, or was Semsulin suggesting she feign interest in a marriage for the sole purpose of quelling the rumor? “Out of curiosity, do you yourself lend any credence to the rumor?”
“I’m certainly not helping to spread it, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not, and you know it.”
Semsulin thought for a long moment before speaking. “If I may be frank with you?” Ellin nodded and made an impatient gesture for him to continue. “I don’t care who sits on the throne. My only concern is the well-being of our kingdom, and I will stand by anyone who can rule justly and keep us out of needless wars. So whether I believe the rumor or not is irrelevant.”
Semsulin continued to reveal depths Ellin never would have guessed. She’d have expected him to have an apoplexy at the very thought that she might not cede the throne, and here he was hinting he’d continue to support her for as long as she could successfully rule. Though perhaps the claim was meant merely to placate her, for he’d made it fairly obvious he did not believe she could successfully rule. At least not for long.
And if she didn’t find a way to quiet Tamzin’s opposition, he might be right. If Tamzin was going to oppose her in council meetings over something so trivial as whether Zarsha should remain a guest in the palace—and worse, continue to build support for such arguments from the lord high treasurer and the lord commander—then he might very well pull the throne out from under her. With the support of the royal treasury and the entire military, he could quell any rebellion from Kailindar before it got started.
So, what was the best way to stop Tamzin from laying the groundwork for an attempt to seize the throne?
A smile curved her lips as the solution presented itself. “I’m going to guess that you are at least as good at planting rumors as Lord Tamzin.”
Semsulin cocked his head, and a line formed between his brows. It was gratifying to see his confusion, to see him try to figure out where she was heading and not succeed. Their minds often seemed to travel remarkably similar roads, but she suspected that this once, they had finally diverged.
“I may have some small skill, I must admit,” Semsulin said.
“What would you think about planting the rumor that I’m investigating the precedent for marriage between first cousins?”
Semsulin’s eyes went wide, and then he laughed. She’d have been insulted if the look of wonder and admiration on his face didn’t tell her he was laughing with her, not at her.
“Do you think Tamzin might find himself with the proper incentive to be more cooperative?” she asked.
If Tamzin had any insight whatsoever, he would never fall for what was truly a ridiculous rumor. If there was a man in Seven Wells she was less likely to marry than him, she didn’t know of him. But if Tamzin saw her as his easiest path to the throne, and if he thought she would allow him to become king without him ever having to suffer through the uncertainties of a war, then his ambition might well win out over his common sense.
Semsulin was still laughing. “And here I thought I was the one with a devious mind. I will begin rumormongering at once.”
It was a temporary solution at best. Eventually, she would have to begin the search for a husband in earnest, and when that time came, it would shatter any illusions she’d managed to foster in Lord Tamzin’s mind. But a temporary solution was better than no solution at all, and perhaps time would present her with better opportunities to quell the opposition.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Chanlix hiked up the skirts of her robe and stepped delicately into the crystal clear water that had no place in the middle of the desert. The cold sent an icy shock up her legs, but it was a lovely relief from the blistering heat of the noonday sun. The vegetation that had sprouted all around the water had not grown high enough to provide any shade, but Chanlix imagined that by this time the following year, the spring would be beautifully lush and provide ample shelter.
Under the soles of her feet, she felt the faintest vibration—the hum of the Well that lay at the depths of the spring. Like the one in Aalwell, this Well manifested as a deep fissure in the earth, seemingly bottomless, and the hum that emanated from its depths became more prominent the closer one came. But neither Aaltah’s Well nor any of the other Wells around which the kingdoms and principalities were built also provided water. It seemed this Well provided the trappings of life itself, and though Chanlix knew the water had no magical properties—besides a high concentration of minerals that made it a more effective spell vessel than ordinary water—she found herself taking many a stolen moment to dip her feet in it. The cold and the hum of power were thrilling and calming in equal measure.
Chanlix turned at the sound of footsteps behind her and felt another little thrill when she caught sight of Tynthanal approaching. She hurried to get out of the water then lowered her robes, her cheeks heating in embarrassment at having been caught in so undignified a state.
Tynthanal grinned at her and shook his head as she stuck her feet haphazardly into her shoes. Then he plunked down on the damp earth and pulled off his own boots, revealing a pair of strong, work-calloused feet. Still grinning, he stood and strode into the water, his breath hissing in on a gasp as the cold bit into his flesh. Then he wiggled his toes and groaned in what sounded like ecstasy.
“Come join me,” he beckoned. “That way I won’t have to feel guilty for interrupting you.”
She shook her head. “I should get back to work.” As they continued to build and improve their little settlement, there was always more work to do, and after some initial reluctance, the men had allowed that the abigails need not confine themselves to only traditional women’s work. More than one of Chanlix’s women had shown an inclination to swing a hammer, though Chanlix herself was more apt to whack her own fingers than a nail.
“Join me,” Tynthanal insisted. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”
Chanlix hesitated. She had to admit that it was a little silly for a woman who’d spent nearly half her life as a whore to be so prudish about letting a man see her feet and ankles, but despite all her admonishments to herself, Tynthanal’s good opinion meant a great deal more to her than it probably should.
She sighed and kicked her shoes back off. Tynthanal had been far from scandalized when several of her abigails eschewed their red robes for the convenience of borrowed men’s breeches while they engaged in manual labor. He was no prissy nobleman, despite having once been the Crown Prince of Aaltah. Hiking up her skirts once more, she waded out to Tynthanal.
They stood together in silence for a few minutes, each quietly enjoying the fresh chill of the water and the peacefulness of the spring.
“What is it you want to talk about?” she finally asked. “Or was that just an excuse to goad me back into the water?”
He laughed. “Can’t it be both?”
She tried to look stern,
but the twinkle in his eye told her she had failed miserably. She had to fight the temptation to splash him, though she very much doubted such would quell his mischief. “Go on, then, and start talking.” A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek, and with both hands holding her skirts, she couldn’t brush it away.
“I’ll start talking when you remove your wimple,” he said, and she made a sound of outrage that had no effect on him whatsoever. “It’s hot enough out here without wearing such a heavy head covering.”
He wasn’t wrong. The wimple seemed to trap the heat, and removing the sweat-soaked fabric at night was always a huge relief.
“Perhaps you can cut it down later to make a snood. That would keep your head properly covered without suffocating you. But for now, just take it off. It’s only you and me, and I assure you I won’t be scandalized at the sight of a woman’s hair.”
“Just because we’re alone at this precise moment doesn’t mean we will stay that way. Anyone could walk over here and see.”
“Name me the person in this camp who you believe would faint away in shock and horror at seeing your head uncovered.”
Chanlix bit her lip. Some of the older, more traditional abigails might grumble to themselves—they certainly grumbled about those who’d put aside their robes—but the discontent would not rise to the level of shock. She had never before considered taking the wimple off in public, but now that Tynthanal had mentioned the possibility, it was a powerful temptation.