King's Folly Page 8
“Do you see them?” Wilek said to Kal.
“Rosârah Thallah won’t be happy,” Kal said.
“Why not?” Harton asked. “The rosâr gave permission, didn’t he? That’s what I heard.”
“He did,” Wilek said, “but Rosârah Thallah will have looked for her son after the earthquake. I fear this was bad timing for Trevn’s adventure. No woman keeps a tighter bridle on her son than the third queen.”
“So he’s in trouble,” Harton said.
“Indeed,” Wilek said. “But trouble is nothing new for Trevn. He will survive.”
“Wilek, finally!” Hrettah yelled.
Wilek dismounted in front of the castle and handed his reins to a boy. His twelve-year-old half sister, Princess Hrettah, ran down the front steps of the castle and gave a quick curtsy as his rank required. Rashah, age five, followed. She curtsied as well, then flung her arms around Wilek’s waist.
He patted Rashah’s back. “Is everyone well?” he asked. “Your mother? The rosâr?”
“Trevn is gone,” Rashah said, eyes wide. “His mamma was crying.”
Wilek winced. “Trevn is fine, Rashah. He is there.” Wilek pointed to Trevn and Hinck, who were sliding off the back of the carriage roof.
“Trevn!” Rashah yelled, running toward the carriage. Trevn caught her up and threw her upside down over his shoulder. She shrieked giggles and kicked her bare legs until her dress fell to her waist.
Wilek’s onesent, Dendrick, approached. “The rosâr wants to speak to you right away, Your Highness.”
Wilek nodded, happy for an excuse to cancel his garden walk with Lady Zeroah. He needed to speak with his father about the Magonians. “A moment, Dendrick. I must speak with Lady Zeroah.”
“Very good, sir.”
Wilek walked to the carriage to wait for his betrothed. Her guards opened the door and handed Lady Zeroah to him. She quickly stepped back and curtsied. He offered his arm again, and she took it.
Miss Mielle climbed from the carriage next. “Who were those boys on the roof?”
“Sâr Trevn and the Earl of Dacre.” Wilek led Zeroah toward the castle entrance. Kal and Miss Mielle followed. “My half brother enjoys adventures he cannot find inside the castle walls.”
“Sâr Trevn did much of the same in Sarikar,” Lady Zeroah said. “Or so I heard from my cousin.”
Unsurprising. Wilek’s youngest brother had spent his childhood in the realm of Sarikar, a gesture of peace between the two nations. But now that Trevn’s ageday approached, their father had called him home.
“I must cancel our walk in the garden,” Wilek told Lady Zeroah. “My father has summoned me.”
She seemed to deflate a little, and he felt her arm tremble. “I understand, Your Highness. Likely many people need aid after such an earthquake.”
“Indeed.” But hopefully not many more Magonians.
They entered the castle foyer and Lady Zeroah spoke again, looking at the floor. “Might I join you tonight for dinner in the great hall?”
Woes! Never before had Lady Zeroah asked anything of him. Had Princess Nabelle put her up to this? Wilek had not realized until now, but he hoped his marriage would change little of his life. This girl seemed suddenly determined otherwise. But he must keep her happy. “Certainly,” he said, forcing a smile. “I shall see you then.” He released her arm, bowed. She countered with a curtsy. Then he turned on his heel and strode for the vestibule that led to the west wing, eager to escape.
Mielle
Prince Wilek walked away, posture like a flagpole, Kal and the other King’s Guard right behind him. Zeroah watched them go, a look of forlorn hopelessness on her face.
This would never do.
Mielle hurried to her lady’s side. “What happened?”
“He canceled our walk,” Zeroah said in a small voice, staring at the floor. “His father summoned him.”
Mielle had no argument for that. “Well, perhaps he will see us at dinner, and you can try again.” Zeroah had managed to convince her mother to move into her apartment in Castle Everton under the pretense of accepting Rosârah Brelenah’s long-standing invitation to the Court of the Queen. This also afforded Zeroah many a chance to see Sâr Wilek and get to know him better.
Zeroah looked up, wincing. “I asked if we might join him for dinner.”
“Oh, well done!” Mielle said. In the two weeks she’d been working for Zeroah, Mielle had been encouraging the girl to be brave.
Zeroah bit her bottom lip. “I vex him; I can tell. What can I do?”
“You must relax. All this worry is upsetting you. Let us be proactive. Might we return to Queen Brelenah’s court?”
“I overheard that she has retired for the day. But . . .” Zeroah lit up. “Perhaps we might risk the court of the king?”
“I thought you hated going there.”
“I do. But the rosâr is not there. This very minute Sâr Wilek goes to a meeting with his father. I suspect court will be far less intimidating with the rosâr and his advisors away. Do you agree?”
“Yes! Let us go at once.” A thrill kindled in Mielle’s stomach. She was going to the court of the king!
The Presence Chamber of Rosâr Echad was on the first floor of Castle Everton, at the very top of the A-shaped building. A quick walk through the cactus garden in the courtyard brought them to the entrance.
A crowd had assembled outside the chamber. Many were servants of those within. Others were merchants, tradesmen, priests, and entertainers, all gleaming in their finest ensembles, all hoping for a chance to meet the king. Only nobles could enter the Presence Chamber without invitation. Zeroah’s guards parted the crowd, bringing murmurs to Mielle’s ears.
“It’s Lady Zeroah!”
“The sâr’s betrothed.”
“Who is that with her?”
“Where is the princess?”
Four King’s Guards stood before a set of intricate bronze doors, pikes in hand. The ruby Barthos insignia on their chests looked villainous compared to the gold thread of the Sarikarian tree. Mielle suddenly wished she were Sarikarian instead.
The guards opened the doors, and Mielle and Zeroah entered, arm in arm. Inside, Mielle’s courage shattered. The room was packed! Sunlight streamed in through the small windows lining the back wall, making the gold draperies and lavish clothing of those inside gleam like jewels. Although servants stood along the walls, fanning massive palms, the air was stale and warm with the unpleasant odor of too many bodies crammed together.
“Lady Zeroah, what a pleasure!” A plump woman with graying hair swept up before them. She wore a brown-and-white gown with so many ruffles she resembled a feather duster. At least a dozen ropes of red and orange beads had been twisted around her throat and completely hid her neck from view.
“Lady Durvah, good midday,” Zeroah said. “May I introduce Miss Mielle Allard, my friend and companion.”
“How do you fare, Miss Mielle?” Lady Durvah asked, tugging on a strand of beads.
“I am well, thank you,” Mielle said.
“How is your mother, the princess?” Lady Durvah asked Zeroah.
As Zeroah answered, Mielle took in the room. The chamber was much smaller than the Throne Room but had the same blue silk-covered walls. Golden drapes ran along the molding and bunched in each corner, falling in waves to the floor. They met in the center back wall and fell in a cascade behind a bronze throne cushioned in blue silk, which, as Zeroah had predicted, was blessedly empty.
A young woman stepped up to Mielle. “Good midday, ladies.” Silky voice, unfairly beautiful face. She was small and curvaceous, dressed in a bloodred gown with white and black ribbons holding gathers in place. Her hair hung in a cascade of gold and brown ringlets under a chaplet of beaded red flowers. “Lady Durvah, is that your husband speaking with Keshelle Malton?”
“Is it?” The plump woman turned, her ropes of beads clacking. Her expression darkened. “Avron, come here at once!” She shuffled away, shaking her finger i
n the air.
The young stranger chuckled. “Poor woman. Elderman Avron Jervaid is generally unpleasant in every way. Lady Durvah has borne her husband’s infidelities with such composure, but his flagrant behavior so distresses her she cannot help but overreact. Perhaps a leash might be the answer to her problems.”
Mielle and Zeroah glanced at one another.
“Lady Zeroah, won’t you introduce me to your acquaintance?” the young woman asked.
“Yes, of course,” Zeroah said. “This is Miss Mielle Allard. Mielle, this is Lady Eudora Agoros. Her mother is Sârah Jemesha, the rosâr’s sister.”
Mielle curtsied. “I am pleased to know you.”
Lady Eudora threaded her arm with Zeroah’s and led her toward the nearest corner. “You have come to court before with your mother, but now that you are here alone, you must allow me to give you my own private tour. Your friend may join us.”
Zeroah glanced over her shoulder and shot Mielle a worried expression. Mielle hurried after them. Lady Eudora stopped in the corner and turned to face the full room, golden draperies at her back. Mielle positioned herself on Zeroah’s opposite side.
“There is no place better to pass the time than in the court of Rosâr Echad, may he live forever.” Eudora paused and looked pointedly at them both. “Courtiers from all corners of the father realms come to show patronage to the rosâr, no matter the cost. Many young men come to court in hopes of making their fortune—too often by marriage to a wealthy young heiress. But they must take care. The wrong woman could be their downfall.” Lady Eudora nodded to a handsome young man in a green-and-black tunic, who was standing in a group of men. “Jarmyn Koll was expelled from court after he got Lady Madara Vohan with child, and she only fourteen at the time. He is only present today because the king is not. And beyond the men, those three women? Each of their husbands sits on the Wisean Council. In the turquoise and lavender is Elessia Hearn, wife of Sherriff Irlond Hearn. Aarella Trumboke is wearing white and red. She is married to Governor Estin Trumboke. And in the sage green is the Duchess of Highcliff, Zura Faluk, married to the duke. Their son, Hinckdan, is a close friend of Sâr Trevn’s and an earl himself.”
“The Earl of Dacre?” Zeroah asked.
Eudora raised one perfect eyebrow. “Indeed.”
“He was the one riding atop our carriage with Sâr Trevn,” Zeroah told Mielle.
Eudora sighed. “Yes, Sâr Trevn is very wild. It is expected, his mother being who she is.”
Mielle wanted to ask what Eudora meant by that, but Zeroah spoke first.
“The earl is in line for the throne as well, is he not?” Zeroah asked. “Seventh, I believe.”
“Why, Lady Zeroah!” Eudora frowned. “Surely you of all people know that Armania is locked in an Heir War?”
“Well, yes,” Zeroah said, cheeks darkening. “I know full well that Armania does not practice inheritance by birth order. I only thought—”
“Not by birth order alone,” Eudora corrected. “One must be related to the rosâr by blood to become Heir. Therefore it is entirely possible that Hinckdan Faluk could be granted the title. But since he has never even spoken to the rosâr, it is unlikely.”
“Oh,” Zeroah said. “I see.”
“And you do not want the earl as Heir. Surely you desire Sâr Wilek on the throne, hmm?” She smiled, so focused on Zeroah that Zeroah looked away.
“Of course,” Zeroah said. “Since that is his wish.”
Eudora pursed her lips. “My, you are so very agreeable. Sâr Wilek will adore you. Look there.” Eudora jutted her chin toward an exotic-looking man. His head was shaved bald, and he had some kind of tattoo running down the sides of his neck. “Sir Garn. He is the emissary from Rurekau who brought Sir Jayron here. Sir Jayron is Sâr Janek’s new shield, a gift from the Rurekan emperor. Rurekans do not grow warrior’s braids. Sir Garn came on a great ship that still sits in Everton’s harbor. He had an affair with Carressa Reman, honor maiden to Rosârah Laviel, then discarded her in favor of Lady Jadel, the young third wife of the former Admiral Livina. Sir Garn and Lady Jadel carried on for several months until the lady suddenly died. It was whispered that she was poisoned, either by her husband the admiral or by Carressa, though the physician declared the cause of death was ague.”
“How dreadful!” Zeroah said.
“The admiral fell into such a consumption that the rosâr demanded his early retirement. Five weeks later the admiral also lost his family, his home, and his ship in the collapse of Cape Waldemar. The king promoted Hanray Vendal to admiral. Oh, look! There is Lilou Caridod.” Eudora’s eyes followed a curvaceous woman, whose hair was done up in a fat bun of yarn braids. She was standing with a second woman and a young man. “She is the rosâr’s newest mistress. An actress friend of Rosârah Ojeda’s. You do know that the fifth queen was an actress?”
Zeroah nodded. Mielle did as well. The Sink had been buzzing with the news of the king’s marriage to a commoner.
“The rosâr took up with Lilou the moment Rosârah Ojeda’s stomach began to bulge. He appointed her to a post in Rosârah Ojeda’s bedchamber! The fifth queen hates her, calls her a ‘lecherous girl.’ And she is ever so obnoxious, but we all must like her. The rosâr declared that whoever was Lilou’s enemy was his as well.” Eudora rolled her eyes. “Do be ever so sweet to Lilou’s face, at least, or you may find yourself standing before the Rosâr’s Bench. Oh, and the Honored Lady Zenobia, first of the rosâr’s harem. She is the one speaking with Lilou.”
Lady Zenobia wore a two-piece beige dress and a ruby in her nose that was as big as a pea, both marks of a royal concubine. Despite her age, no lines marked her skin and her hair was as black as ink.
“No concubine is permitted at court,” Eudora said. “Except Lady Zenobia. And no one knows why the king made the exception. Some say it is because she has bewitched him with mantics. It is also said that is why Rosârah Ojeda has been so very ill during her pregnancy.”
Zeroah gasped and met Mielle’s eyes. Oh, this Eudora was full of herself and her ability to captivate with gossip. It would take Mielle all afternoon to calm Zeroah down after this.
“The young man standing with the women,” Eudora said. “Do you know him?”
“I confess I do not,” Zeroah said.
“He is Kamran DanSâr, Lady Zenobia’s youngest at six and twenty,” Eudora said. “Lady Zenobia has borne the king four sons and a handful of daughters.” Eudora raised one eyebrow. “Can you guess how many children the king has fathered?”
“I cannot,” Zeroah said.
“Do try,” Eudora said. “Miss Mielle, take a guess.”
“A dozen?”
Eudora cackled. “So naïve, you girls. The answer is thirty-eight. That he has claimed, anyway. How many children are you prepared to give your future husband, Lady Zeroah?”
Zeroah’s eyes bulged.
Mielle’s gaze caught on Rosârah Thallah, the king’s third wife, who was standing in the corner opposite them with a group of women, all of them short and very round. “What do you know of Rosârah Thallah?” Mielle asked, hoping to rescue her lady from Eudora’s rudeness.
“She was a trade marriage from Rurekau. Is aunt to the current emperor. It is a wonder Sâr Trevn was even born. The rosâr found her so ugly, he cast her out upon arrival! She fought back by writing to her brother, and only by pressure from the Rurekan emperor did Rosâr Echad do his duty to father a child on her. Poor dear. I do believe she cried daily for the first three years of her marriage until she became pregnant. Never comes to court when the rosâr is present. She is nearly mad, they say.”
The doors opened then and a young man in a foreign uniform entered. His head was shaved bald, and he had the trimmed shadow of a beard sculpted around his jaw and the tip of his chin. No, that was black ink. A tattoo?
Eudora sucked in a sharp breath. “My pardon, ladies. Sir Jayron has come and I must speak with him. Enjoy your midday.” She sauntered across the room toward the young soldier.
“Now you know better,” Zeroah said. “Let us depart before we are accosted by another who wishes to gossip for my benefit. I am exhausted after having spoken to two souls.”
They withdrew from the chamber in a hurry, hands clasped between them. Zeroah led Mielle back through the courtyard and into the foyer. They passed under an archway into the vestibule that led to the east wing. Much of Castle Everton was old and ugly compared to Fairsight Manor. The corridors were chilly and dark, no matter the time of day, with walls of thick stone, chipped in places, and too few torches to light the way.
“Lady Eudora had much to say,” Zeroah said. “I am still reeling.”
“That Sir Jayron is devilishly handsome,” Mielle said. “He and Lady Eudora would make a beautiful pair.”
“I heard my mother tell Flara that many men love Eudora,” Zeroah said. “She applied to be my honor maiden, but Mother felt her a poor influence. She also said, ‘Lady Eudora is no maiden.’ I suppose that is what another might have told us of her.” Zeroah’s eyes popped.
Mielle clasped Zeroah’s arm and they laughed at the scandalous nature of such a comment. The girls reached the end of the vestibule and turned into the east hallway, almost running into a woman coming around the corner from the opposite direction. A peppery, woodsy smell engulfed them. Had this woman bathed in hyssop?
“Oh, excuse me,” Mielle said, for she had been in the lead and going the fastest.
“Why, hello, children,” the woman said. “It has been a while since I saw such young people in this part of the castle.”
This woman was stunning—more so than even Lady Eudora or Princess Nabelle. She wore a plain turquoise top and skirt. No ruffles. No lace. Just smooth fabric hugging her curvy form and revealing lots of dark flesh: a flat stomach, slender arms, the side of one long leg. A ruby stone glittered on the side of the woman’s nose. This was a royal concubine.
Relief flashed through Mielle at the realization that she would never be beautiful enough to be a concubine.