Royal Airs (29 page)

It involved even more tedious study of the specifics of every craft currently sitting in the big hangar. Kayle felt his pilots should have a thorough knowledge of how each machine was constructed, what the weak points might be, so they would better understand what could go wrong when they were high in the air and had to make rapid life-and-death decisions.

The most interesting part of the prep work involved practicing how to operate an aeromotive. Kayle—who seemed to possess half the property in the port city—owned yet another large building on the northern edge of town, this one a training facility. Complex ropes and pulleys hung from the ceiling and stretched from the walls, holding a replica driver’s box twenty feet above the floor. A pilot-in-training would climb into the suspended capsule and engage the gears and levers, and the box would respond, turning right, dipping lower, trembling with simulated speed. It was as close to flying as not flying could be, and the experience left Rafe even more eager to take a machine for a trial run.

“So when will you fly your first aeromotive?” Josetta asked him over dinner on firstday.

He had by this time been training for six days, and he was sore all over. His arms and abdomen hurt from the physical workouts; after dozens of hours in the replica box, hauling on stiff levers, his hands were rough with blisters slowly turning into calluses. Even his brain hurt from trying to absorb the mathematical calculations of speed, fuel, and stress. Kayle had seemed shocked that Rafe planned to take a couple days off to recuperate.

And return to Chialto to have dinner with the princess, of course.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “Kayle thinks I need to build more strength in my hands and shoulders.
I
think I need to practice what it feels like to lose power all of a sudden and see if there’s any way to bring the aircraft into more of a controlled crash. So the engineers at the training facility are devising ways to duplicate that sort of situation.”

Josetta looked like she was trying hard not to appear frightened. He was pleased that she made the effort—and pleased to think she was worried about his safety. “If you let me know when it’s going to be, I’ll come out and watch,” she told him.

It was hard to tell which outweighed the other, his surprise or his delight. “You would? That would be— I’d love that.”

She gave him a half-smile. “Otherwise I don’t suppose anyone would think to tell me if you’d been horribly injured in a crash, and I’d just be left to wonder what happened to you when you stopped showing up on firstdays.”

He laughed, but she had a point. “I’ll leave a note with Darby, telling him who to notify if something goes wrong.”

“Who’s—oh, Kayle’s assistant. Right. Because I assume your brother would want to know, too.”

He smiled at her. “But nothing will happen. So Darby won’t be notifying anyone of anything.”

Josetta toyed with the remnants of food on her plate. “So have you given up the gambling life altogether?”

He laughed. “Oh, I’d say flying an aeromotive is the biggest gamble of all.”

She smiled reluctantly. “I mean, have you stopped playing cards as a way to support yourself?”

He leaned his elbows on the table. “For the moment. I’ve taken an apartment down at the port, though so far I’ve kept the one at Samson’s just so I have a place to stay when I’m in the city.”

“You could stay here,” she suggested. “There’s usually an empty bunk in the dorm.”

His face showed his distaste. “Once you’ve lived on your own—even in a dump like Samson’s—it’s hard to go back to communal living, even for a night.”

“I understand that,” she agreed. “But it gets cumbersome to split your possessions over a couple of different households. I have one room at Darien’s, one at my mother’s, a suite at Zoe’s house up on the river, and my bedroom here. If I wanted to, I could keep a room at the palace, too, but I try
never
to spend the night there.”

“Why not?”

“I hate it there,” she said softly. “I was so miserable when I lived at court. Every time I step back inside I just feel all the weight of those wretched days bearing down on me again.”

“You’re still an heir,” he pointed out. “There’s still the possibility you’d end up being named queen, and you’d have to live there again.”

“Oh, surely not,” she said. “There’s Odelia—and Natalie—” Her voice trailed off and she looked, for a moment, decidedly uneasy.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Oh, just—remembering that Odelia was sick last time Romelle was in Chialto,” Josetta said, so offhandedly that Rafe was sure she was lying. He didn’t know why she’d bothered; he had no idea how to piece together the significance of anything that happened at court. “So I suppose you’re right. Once you’re in line for the throne, you’re never really out of the shadow of the palace.”

“But nothing will happen to Odelia,” he said in a reassuring voice. “Just like nothing will happen to my aeromotive.”

She smiled again. “That’s right. Nothing to worry about at all.”

FIFTEEN

O
f course there was plenty to worry about, and Josetta couldn’t imagine how Darien kept track of it all. The obnoxious prince of Berringey had finally departed with his many guards and attendants, though he still threatened to return. Even worse, Darien reminded everyone that the empress of Malinqua would be paying a visit sometime before Quinnatorz, so there would be at least as much pomp and celebration to welcome her.

And orchestrating the visits of foreign dignitaries was only one of the time-consuming tasks that had fallen to Darien recently; another was trying to keep a rein on Alys. Zoe and Corene were gone, but Josetta was in the house, when Darien summoned Alys and her husband for a confrontation.

“What are you going to say to her?” Josetta wanted to know. “Can I listen in?”

She’d expected him to say no, but his eyes narrowed as he considered it. “It might be useful to have a witness, even one clearly biased in my favor,” he decided. “Even Alys is less likely to tell lies about me later if you’re in the room.”

“I won’t say a word,” she promised.

He gave a grim laugh. “You won’t have a chance to. We’ll be yelling at each other too loudly.”

But Darien, at least, kept his cool during the tense, angry interview. Of course he did; Darien never lost control. It was Alys and Dominic who did all the shouting.

They gathered in Darien’s study, where Alys and Corene had had their last disastrous conversation. Josetta sat at a small table by the window, laying out a solitary card game that Rafe had taught her, using a deck he had lent her when she admired its pictures. She stood up long enough to bow at Alys when the queen entered, and to favor Dominic with a nod. He was a beefy man with a ruddy complexion and dark hair; Corene had said once that he always looked greedy, no matter what the discussion. Josetta thought he looked smart but calculating. He smiled at her, which was more than Alys did, but she didn’t smile back as she dropped back into her seat and resumed her game.

“Delighted, as always, to see you again, Darien,” Alys said in her silky tones. She and Dominic took chairs across from Darien, who had seated himself behind a massive, scrupulously tidy desk.

“I feel certain your delight will quickly fade,” he replied.

“Well now, well now,” Dominic said in a placating voice. “We’re all reasonable people here. There’s no need to be arguing over—what
are
we arguing over?”

“We’re not arguing,” Darien said. “I have a question to ask and some information to share. That’s all.”

“A question?” Alys asked in a marveling, mocking voice. “But I thought the regent had spies everywhere and knew everything!”

“I would like to think so,” he said. “But now and then I learn of events that happened without my observation. For instance, I wanted to ask you, Alys, if you ever thought it might be amusing to send one of
your
spies to the bedroom of Princess Odelia and—just for fun—cut off a lock of the girl’s hair.”

The silence went on for so long that Josetta looked up from her card game to see what expression Alys was wearing. The queen looked neither guilty nor panicked; her eyes were narrowed and she was watching Darien closely.

“Why, no,” she said. “But I take it someone did? How very alarming that must have been for Romelle.”

“As you say,” Darien replied.

“I assume the princess wasn’t actually harmed?”

“No. Which leads me to believe the visitor was merely intent on mischief. Which is why,” he added, “I instantly thought of you.”

“Oh, Darien,” Alys said. “To think you still hold me in such high regard.”

“So much so that any harm that comes to Odelia will instantly lead me to consider you the likeliest culprit.”

Alys actually laughed. “I have no wish to harm the princess. Absolutely none. So if that’s what this little meeting is about—”

“I only wanted to let you know I am paying attention,” Darien said. “That’s not the point of our conference at all.” He tossed an envelope across the desk at Dominic. “Here’s the real business at hand. I’ve purchased the mortgage on the house you’re buying in Chialto. It now belongs to me.”

Dominic first appeared wholly taken by surprise, and then furious. “You can’t do that! I have a contract—I’ll own it in five years!”

“The contract has been rewritten. I’m now your lender, and anytime I decide to foreclose, I can.”

“So you’d turn us out in the streets?” Dominic blustered. “You would be willing to see the
queen
homeless?”

“Alys owns a small property in the middle provinces,” Darien said coolly. “It belonged to her family before she married Vernon, and was bequeathed to her by the throne when Vernon died. She will never be homeless.”

“If you think I will ever live anywhere but Chialto, you are entirely mistaken,” Alys told him.

Darien shrugged and slid a somewhat bulkier package across the desk. “I’ve bought a controlling share in the cotton processing factory you’ve invested in. If I ever decide the business isn’t functioning satisfactorily, I’ll shut it down.”

“Shut it down—but you could bankrupt me! I put more than half my assets in that business!”

“Where are you getting all this money you’re flinging about?” Alys demanded. “Or were you stealing from Vernon all those years?”

“I borrowed cash from my wife, who is a very wealthy woman,” Darien said. “The hunti prime insisted on contributing funds as well.”

Dominic was getting angrier and angrier; Josetta had the sense that he could literally explode with rage. “So you
are
trying to destroy me!” he snarled. “Alys said—but I didn’t believe her—and all of this over lies some little girl started spouting about me.”

Darien passed him a tightly rolled scroll sealed with a wax wafer. “Here’s a copy of the letter I’ve sent to the other four primes. I’ve also provided copies to Romelle and Elidon and Seterre, as well as members of the council. They’ve all been told the notes should remain unread until Zoe or I tell them the contents should be made public, but—” He shrugged. “People get curious.”

Dominic looked fearful. “What does it say?”

“It details Corene’s accusations against you, sworn before witnesses at the booth of promises.”

Now Dominic appeared so stunned he was almost incapable of speech. “If you—but you—this letter—”

Darien enumerated on his fingertips. “If you ever—in public where I can see you or in private when I learn about it—approach my daughter again. If you ever speak of her to anyone else, and word makes its way back to me. If you ever lay a hand on another young girl, whether a maid in your household or a daughter of the Five Families, and I learn of the infraction. If any of these things
ever
happens, from now until I am dead, I will destroy you. That’s all. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Goodbye.”

Now Dominic burst into fury, lunging to his feet and shouting in Darien’s face, banging his fist on the table and screaming that he wouldn’t stand for this abuse, he would call in his friends, he would start a campaign of retribution against the regent that would rock the whole city.
You have no idea how powerful I am, Darien Serlast!
Alys, too, was on her feet, but her words were low and bitter, almost indistinguishable beneath Dominic’s rant. Josetta only caught a phrase or two, something like
I have outwitted you before, Darien. You mustn’t think I’ve forgotten all your weaknesses.
Darien barely reacted; he didn’t even stand. He just sat there gazing up at them, his hands folded before him on the desk, allowing them to shout themselves hoarse.

It was only a minute before four burly footmen entered the room and stood suggestively by the door, at which point Darien came to his feet.

“I think we all understand each other,” he said pleasantly. “The servants will see you out.” And he bowed to both of them and then simply stood there waiting until they finally snatched up their things and stalked for the door.

Where Alys turned for a final parting shot. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Darien,” she said. “You make mistakes all the time.”

“I do,” he said. “And then I fix them, which is more than I can say for you.”

She actually laughed. “Oh, no,” she said. “This time I’m not committing any errors at all.” And with that cryptic remark, she swept through the door, close on her husband’s heels. Darien followed, probably to make sure they actually left the house.

For her part, Josetta couldn’t speak, couldn’t stand, couldn’t move. She had always hated confrontation, always felt sick to her stomach when she’d been caught in the poisonous plotting carried out at the palace. For some reason, the casual brutality in the southside slums didn’t affect her the same way, maybe because it was so direct and obvious. She couldn’t tolerate these court games, couldn’t scheme and counterscheme without check and without mercy. She sat at the little desk, staring down at the patterns of roses and flutes, and waited until she stopped trembling.

 • • • 

T
he other problem Darien was supposed to be solving was Odelia. As soon as Prince Ghyaneth headed over the mountains to Soeche-Tas, Romelle and her entire entourage decamped.