One Thousand Nights (4 page)

There was little I could say to that, as certainly I did not have the ability to go back and change the past. True, I had been promised to the Earl of Fallyn’s son at a very early age, a betrothal that came to nothing when he gave his heart to someone else. Such a thing would normally have mattered very little, but as the Earl was a great good friend of the crown, my father had released the Fallyn heir from the contract, leaving him to follow his heart, and me quite unattached. If that engagement had never been made, then most likely my father would have attempted to have me betrothed to the young Hierarch, for certainly it was a far better match at almost every level.

Perhaps in a perfect world matters would have been arranged so. However, we had to attend to things as they stood here and now, and not as they might have been. The ambassador was looking at me with such hope that I kept my tone as gentle as I could as I replied, “Yes, Excellency, it does sound as if His Most High Majesty and I would have suited very well. But I cannot change the past. All I can do is make the best choices I can going forward to the future.” I stood then, and he rose a second later, disappointment clear in the slump of his shoulders.

Then he straightened, and said, “Yes, Your Highness. I will pray to God that you will make the right choice here. May He shine His light upon your path.” He bowed formally, in the Sirlendian fashion, and I inclined my head. It was clear that the audience was over.

He left me then, returning to the light and noise of the main hall next door. But I stood there in the dim salon for some time afterward, my thoughts churning. What he had said weighed upon me more heavily than I had expected.

Why that was, when I had already made up my mind, I could not determine.

T
he shallow clamor
of the evening seemed even more tedious after my conversation with the ambassador, and after a scant half hour in the hall, giving false smiles to those who approached, and wishing Torric had thought of any sort of diversion for the evening rather than gaming, I sought him out and told him I wished to retire early.

“Are you quite well?” he asked, an expression of concern flitting over his features.

“Yes, of course, but I have something of a headache and would like to return to my chambers. No doubt a bit of peace and quiet is all I truly need.”

His brows drew together at that comment, as if seeking to find yet another dig at the gambling going on around us, but then he seemed to shrug. “Very well. Things will go on for some hours yet, and no need to have you weary yourself unnecessarily.”

I smiled then and thanked him, and informed Lord Hein that I would be retiring for the evening. At once he sent an escort of four guards to see me to my rooms. Silly, really, safe in the heart of the capital as I was, but no princess of the realm could take a single unaccompanied step when the palace was filled with guests. At least I was well used to it by now.

After they had followed me upstairs, and seen me safely installed in my suite, I let out a breath and pulled the diadem from my head. Arlyn, who had been dozing on the divan in front of the fire, came to with a start and got to her feet at once.

“A thousand apologies, Your Highness! I was only resting my eyes and — ”

“It is no matter, Arlyn,” I said gently, stopping the flow of words before they could get started. “It is enough that you help me out of this dress and brush my hair for the night. After that, you may retire.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” she replied, then followed me to my bedchamber so she might unlace the heavy velvet gown and store it safely in the wardrobe, and take off my silken chemise and replace it with a warmer linen one for sleeping. After she had brushed my hair and braided it deftly into its nighttime plait, I bid her a good night’s rest, and she went, yawning, to the small room off my own where she had her own bed.

I, however, was weary but not sleepy. Gathering up my heavy brocaded robe from where Arlyn had draped it across the foot of my bed, I went back out to the sitting area and prodded the fire with the poker, reviving enough of the flame that it began to crackle again merrily, sending some much-needed heat into the room. On a side table sat a pitcher of water and a heavy glass goblet, and I poured myself some and drank, glad of the simple liquid after the heavy wines served at the reception.

Driven by an impulse, I set down the goblet, then moved across the room to my desk, where I had left the Hierarch’s portrait in its pouch, sitting on top of some of my papers. I withdrew it and cupped it in my hand, and gazed down at his features once again.

Besh Kel-Alisaad, who had been betrayed by the woman he loved.

A wave of pity went over me then, strong and unexpected. I attempted to push it away — after all, pity was no better a basis for agreeing to a marriage than the colder exigencies of treaties and trade agreements.

And yet….

I shook my head, crossing to where I had left the water. Perhaps the dregs of the wine I had drunk with dinner were still playing with my mind, making me whimsical and foolish. Deep within, I knew that was not true. I had had only one glass, and that hours ago. No, I was as sober as I would ever be.

You love Thani,
I told myself.
That is the one thing you should hold on to in all of this.

Yes, I did care for him. He was handsome and kind, and one of the better judges of human character I had met. He did not share my love of books and learning, preferring the sturdier pursuits of hunting and raising horses, or the quieter pastimes of growing vines and making wine, but that did not lower him in my estimation, instead raising it. Unlike so many other men I had met, he did not wish to be an idle nobleman, losing himself in foolish court pursuits. We had often shared a laugh together when poking fun at some of the sillier courtiers and their escapades. Not so anyone else could hear, of course, but as our own private jokes.

Surely that was more than most noble couples shared. But there were times I wished I could discuss something I had read with him, or ask him to look over my writings and give his opinion. The one time I had made such a request, he had only laughed and said, “I am not a scholar, Lyarris. I generally left such things to my sister. She always had her nose in a book.”

I let out a sigh and closed my fingers around the portrait, feeling the smoothness of the enamel frame and the hard shapes of the cabochon gems press into my flesh.

Sel-Trelazar’s words echoed in my mind:
His Most High Majesty is a man of a generous nature, and a man of learning and discernment….

No, I could not let myself think of that. I must think of Thani, the way he had pressed his lips against mine at the Midwinter feast as we hid ourselves in an alcove, seeking to escape the gossip and prying eyes that sought to learn the extent of our connection. That, and also recall the warm, rich sound of his voice as he had asked me to be his wife. In that moment, I had thought myself to be the happiest woman in the world…a happiness that did not dissipate even once the glow of the celebration and the wine we had drunk wore off. I truly believed he was the match of my heart, or at the very least the best match I could possibly make. For if I could not wed a foreign prince, then at the very least my husband must be a duke. And there were not so many of those in Sirlende, especially of a suitable age and temperament.

Could it be that I had fooled myself into thinking I was in love with Sorthannic Sedassa, simply because I knew I had no true alternative?

Oh, gods, would that the ambassadors had never come, and I had never heard Beshalim Kel-Alisaad’s sad story! For I would have married the Duke of Marric’s Rest with a calm heart, knowing that I could do no better, that perhaps the true match of my soul did not exist.

Now, however….

My fingers seemed to open of their own accord, and once again I gazed down into the face of the Hierarch, this Beshalim Kel-Alisaad.

Besh
. Surely if I were his wife, he would allow me to address him in such a fashion.

And when that thought passed through my mind, I knew I was lost.

T
hani arrived
at the palace early the next afternoon, just as a few flakes of snow began to fall from the sky. He came with the smallest contingent that custom allowed, some ten of his men-at-arms, and again, as custom dictated, he went to pay his respects to my brother the Emperor first, so I had an extra measure of time to pace nervously before the fire, rehearsing the words I would say, and knowing as I did so that no matter how elegant and practiced they might be, it would not matter in the end. I was about to hurt the man I thought I loved, and who had said he loved me, and nothing could change that.

I had not mentioned any of this to my brother, given no hint of what was passing through my mind. Thani should hear of this first from me, and although my brother was a consummate diplomat, I could not trust him to keep a secret of such magnitude from the Duke. Some measure of his excitement at having his sister agree to marry the Hierarch of Keshiaar might slip out, careful as he was, and as much as I understood that what I had to tell him would wound Thani immeasurably, it would hurt far worse to hear the news from someone else.

And so I lingered by the fire, and then went to my desk and attempted to pick up my writings of a few days ago, only to push them aside when I realized I could not possibly hold my scattered thoughts to such a task. Arlyn sat quietly in the background, embroidering a pair of gloves for me. I knew she must be wondering what was amiss, what could possibly have caused her mistress such unaccustomed agitation, but of course I could not confide in her, either. Perhaps Ashara would have lent a sympathetic ear. Again, though, I wanted no inkling of my decision to be known by anyone except Thani until I had spoken with him.

At last came a knock at the door to my suite, one I had been both expecting and dreading. Arlyn went to answer it, and I heard Thani’s deep voice greeting her.

My blood seemed to go hot, and then cold, but I made myself rise from my chair by the hearth to go greet him.

He was so very tall, and so handsome, that I felt my resolve falter. I had said nothing to anyone; it was not too late to put my madness of the last few hours aside and forget those moments of doubt. But no. I would not allow that to happen. In the black hours of the previous night, I had made my decision. I cared for Thani, I knew that to be true. But was it a love to stand the test of time? The kind of love that would make a woman risk death, as the late consort of the Hierarch had?

When I had searched my soul, examined the deepest reaches of my heart, I realized the answer to both those questions was no.

“Arlyn, you may leave us for now,” I said. The words were calm and in command, betraying no trace of my inner turmoil. Well, that was something.

She bobbed a curtsey and left. Normally an unmarried woman would never have been allowed to be alone with a man thus, but Thani’s and my engagement, although not formally announced, was still common enough knowledge amongst the members of the court and our servants that our being left unattended was not terribly scandalous.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Thani came to me and took my hands in his. The feel of those strong fingers around mine, rough with the calluses of a man who spent a great deal of time in the saddle or holding a sword or jousting lance, made me want to weep. But I would not allow myself that weakness. I was the Crown Princess of Sirlende, and I would deliver the unwelcome news as graciously and painlessly as I possibly could.

“What is it, Lyarris?” he inquired. “For you said very little in your letter, only that you wished to see me at once. But now that I am here, I can see you are greatly troubled.”

“Is it that obvious?” I essayed a weak smile, one I feared did not fool him at all.

“Perhaps not to those who do not know you well, but — ”

“But you cannot be counted among their number,” I finished for him. Preparing for this interview, I had had wine and light, savory cakes brought up, although the thought of eating anything made my stomach clench. I pointed toward the refreshments and said, “Some wine?”

His eyebrow lifted, as if he guessed that I was only offering him the drink to stall for time. He did not comment, though, save to say, “Thank you, yes.”

I poured for him and then gave him the goblet. He took it from me and drank, a small, measured sip, a courtesy.

Then he waited, watching me. “Whatever it is, surely you can tell me.”

No, I am not sure I can.
I picked up my own goblet, although I only held it and did not drink the wine Arlyn had poured into it earlier. But delaying would only make things worse, so I drew in a breath and said, “We have had a visit from several ambassadors from Keshiaar.”

One dark eyebrow lifted. “Indeed? It is surely not the time of year for that.”

“No, it is not,” I agreed, thinking of the snow that had begun to fall outside. “But they felt their mission was urgent enough to risk a sea passage at this season.”

“And was it?” He did drink this time, his blue eyes, so striking against his dark hair and tanned skin, watching me carefully.

“Yes, I believe it was.” I turned the goblet in my hands, feeling the smooth silver against my palms, the coolness of the liquid within. Perhaps I should have sent for mulled wine, given the snowy day outside, but I had not known for sure how long it would have to sit before Thani came to me. “They came here to say that the Hierarch’s consort has passed away, and that he wishes my hand in marriage.”

A deep, terrible silence, one in which those blue eyes did not blink, but only remained fixed on my face. Finally he replied, “And of course they were told that you were already promised to someone else.”

“Yes, they were.”

“Well, how is that not the end of the matter?” He continued to stare at me, then said, “What is it you are not telling me, Lyarris?”

“I — ” Suddenly my mouth was dry, dry as Keshiaar’s fabled deserts, and I lifted my goblet and took a swallow of wine. “Thani, my brother did tell them I was not — not free to accept their offer. And I told the senior ambassador, Sel-Trelazar, the same thing.”

“But?” Thani prodded, his expression telling me he did not believe that to be the end of the matter.

“But — but I have thought on it, thought on it at great length.”

“And so you have decided to agree to their proposal,” he said heavily. His knuckles whitened as his fingers clenched on the goblet he held. I could see the thin silver buckle under their pressure.

“Y - yes,” I faltered.

“I see.” The words were spoken quietly, but I could hear the anger running beneath them, like the faint, dangerous spark that sets off a forest fire. “You realized that to be the wife of a duke was nothing, when you could be the consort of the Hierarch of Keshiaar, queen of one of the world’s greatest realms!”

“No, that is not why,” I said at once. I could bear his anger, but I could not bear to have him think me greedy and grasping, desiring only to be raised to such an exalted height, high above all other women.

“Pray tell me why, then,” he retorted, before lifting his goblet and finishing the rest of its contents in a single swallow. “For unless the Hierarch himself came here to make his suit, and you looked into his eyes and fell madly in love, I confess I cannot understand how you could ignore everything that has passed between us to accept this proposition!”

Oh, how could I explain this to him, when I could barely explain it to myself? “Thani, I — ”

“Sorthannic,” he corrected me. “For only those who care about me may use that nickname.”

Ice went through me then, despite the heat from the fire only a few feet away. “Very well. My lord, I studied my heart. I care for you. I do. I think perhaps we could have made a good marriage, despite our differences in temperament. But after everything, I have come to realize I cannot love you the way you deserve to be loved. And that is not fair to you. Not fair at all.”

Again a terrible silence fell. He stood there, staring at me as if I were a stranger, as if one of those strange, fey creatures of legend had invaded my body, turning my heart cold as stone. Finally, “And yet you think you can love this Hierarch, a man you have never seen, never met?”

“Such matches are not made for love,” I said wearily. “This is something I have been raised knowing. I was taught to do my duty. When I met you, I thought — I thought perhaps my fate might be different. Now, though, I realize I would be doing you a disservice. You will find someone else, and be happy. And I — I will do what is good for Sirlende. And perhaps this Hierarch and I will learn to live with one another after a time. I have been told that he is a man of learning, and so at least we will have that in common.”

“Meaning we do not, I suppose,” Thani said, setting down his goblet. I noticed that he did not bother to refill it. “As I am only a simple man, one who cannot possibly hope to understand you.”

“That is not what I said — ”

“Perhaps not. But I think perhaps it is what you meant. Very well, Your Highness. I see your mind is made up, and so I will waste no more breath trying to change it.” He straightened, his fine chin lifting. “I will see myself out.”

With that he strode to the door, not sparing a single glance back at me. It shut behind him, and he was gone. And I —

Well, I stumbled to the divan, sank down upon it, and buried my face in my hands.

S
ome time
later a summons came from my brother. He wished to see me in his private chambers. Immediately. No “when it is convenient,” or “at your leisure.” This summons did not surprise me.

I had been expecting it.

So I set aside the book I had been pretending to read, and allowed the two footmen to escort me to my brother’s suite. No one paid me any mind as I passed through the corridors, save to curtsey or bow, or murmur, “Good afternoon, Your Highness.” After all, I visited my brother often, and although most of the time I did so with only Arlyn as my escort, it was still not so unusual for me to be accompanied by a footman or a guard or two. To everyone around me, I was sure I looked placid and calm as always. Inwardly, though, I was writhing. No taking back what I had said to Thani, but oh, how I wished that interview had gone differently.

I saw no sign of Ashara when the footmen guided me into the sumptuous reception chamber in the imperial suite, and guessed that Torric had requested that she be elsewhere — perhaps consulting with Lord Hein over that evening’s entertainments, or, gods forbid, spending some time with my mother. I would not wish that on anyone, and hoped fervently it was the former.

No sooner had the footmen retired to the foyer, shutting the door behind them, than my brother stepped forward from where he had been waiting by the enormous hearth of carved black marble, and said, “It is most curious. The Duke of Marric’s Rest has sent word that he will not be staying in the palace, and instead is having his house here in town opened up…and also that he regrets it highly, but he cannot attend the supper this evening.”

“Indeed?” I managed, although once again I found my throat dry, and the word barely croaked out.

“Indeed,” Torric replied, dark eyes glinting. He paused a few feet away from me and added, “I was hoping you could cast some light on the Duke’s unusual behavior. For surely a man does not make a journey of a hundred miles in bleak Fevrere to see his betrothed, only to turn away at the last moment?”

“No, he does not.” I drew in a breath, then said, “I believe he is angry with me because I told him that I had decided to marry the Hierarch of Keshiaar.”

If I had told my brother I intended to abandon my crown and run off with a troupe of jugglers, I do not think I could have elicited a more startled reaction. His eyes widened, and he exclaimed, “You
what?
”

Now that I had said it, I felt a bit better. Not much, but a little. Uttering the words gave a shape to my intent, made it more real. “You heard me, Torric.” My gaze shifted past him to an elegantly carved table placed against the wall, where a silver pitcher of water sat, surrounded by a set of matching goblets. I went there and poured myself some water, only halfway wishing it was wine. The liquid was cool against my throat, a welcome relief.

There were not many times in my life I could recall seeing Torric positively flummoxed. In fact, I thought perhaps this might be the only one. He stood there in the center of the chamber, jaw working as if he meant to say something but could not quite decide what. At last he closed his mouth, crossed over to me, and poured himself his own goblet of water. “Damn tepid stuff,” he said. “I should’ve had the footmen bring up a bottle. But Ashara heard from one of her ladies-in-waiting that her younger sister’s new doctor insists that women with child should not drink anything stronger than cider, and so Ashara has said we should not have wine in our chambers.” He lifted the circlet he wore, ran a hand through his hair, and then replaced the finely worked band of gold, a gesture I had seen him make often enough when he was trying to work through something in his mind.

“It is good that she is taking such care,” I said, glad of a reason to talk about anything but what had just passed between Thani and myself.

“Yes, of course.” Then Torric shook his head. “But enough of that. May I ask whence has come this remarkable shift in your opinion of a marriage with the Hierarch?”

“You may ask,” I told him, attempting to keep my tone light, as if I were teasing.

He was my brother and I loved him, and we were far closer than many siblings, as we’d only had one another as a bulwark against our mother’s harsh tongue, but there were some things I could not imagine myself saying to him. Especially not what I had seen in my heart when I looked deep within it the night before, and realized that Sorthannic Sedassa could not make me truly happy. Not that I expected such a thing of the Hierarch, either. In that case, though, it would be a match made for politics, and no one truly expects love to come from such a union.

And of course I could never confess to Torric that, somewhere deep inside my soul, I hoped perhaps my case might be different.