The Briar King (33 page)

They came apart, both gasping like animals, and for an instant Anne felt ashamed and frightened. But then Roderick's hand came to her cheek, very gently, and his dark eyes held her, promising nothing but happiness and devotion.

Around them, the tomb was utterly silent, little revealed by
the single taper burning in a wall sconce. They were in the center room, where bodies lay in state and the family gathered for the rites of the dead. No one had died recently; her ancestors were elsewhere, in their own rooms, in the vaults that made up the rooms of the great house. Before Roderick arrived she had said a prayer to keep them quiet.

“You are more beautiful than anyone I have ever laid eyes on,” Roderick whispered. “When I first met you, it was not so. You were beautiful, yes, but now—” He struggled for words. “It's as if each time I see you, you glow with a greater light.”

She couldn't think of anything to say, and she could hardly stand the intensity of his eyes, so she leaned in and tucked her head under his chin and laid her cheek against his chest.

“It must be that love brings greater beauty,” he said, into her hair.

“What?” She drew back, to see if he was joking.

“I know, it's doomed, but there it is. I love you, Anne.”

This time she didn't turn from his gaze but watched as his face dropped nearer, his lips parted, and he gave her a long, sweet kiss.

But then she pushed away from him.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” she said roughly. She felt sudden tears clotting her head, trying to get out.

“What do you mean?”

“Father is sending us away, to Cal Azroth. My mother, my sisters, my brother—me. He thinks we're in danger. It's stupid. How could we be safer
there
?”

“Tomorrow?” Roderick sounded as if he was in pain. “For how long?”

“I don't know. Months, probably, until this stupid thing with Saltmark is over.”

“That's terrible,” he whispered.

“I don't want to go.” Now it was her turn to stroke his cheek. “We still have time,” she said. “Kiss me again, Roderick. Let's worry about tomorrow when it arrives.”

He did kiss her slowly at first, but within moments he had reclaimed all of the ground he had conquered earlier, and
pushed forward. When he took her nipple between thumb and forefinger, she laughed in delight: who would think of something like that? It was all so surprising!

He unlaced her bodice and kissed the long border of fabric and flesh, so each touch of his lips was wet and vivid, yet somehow far away, and all the more exciting for it.

The bodice slipped farther.

When his hand worked past her stockings, to the bare flesh of her upper thigh, her whole body went stiff. She moaned, and for the first time felt real fear. It was a strange fear, however, a mixed one. And Roderick seemed so certain of what he was doing, so confident.

And he loved her, didn't he?

He stopped, and caught her with those great eyes again. “Shall I stop? If you have any doubt, Anne, say it.”

“Would you stop if I asked?” she panted.

“Yes.”

“Because I'm not sure—but I don't want you to stop
yet
.”

He grinned. “I love you, Anne Dare.”

“I love you, too,” she said, and just as she was realizing what she had said, he came back to her. And a sort of helplessness swallowed her, as if nothing could happen anyone would blame her for. Nothing.

And she was fifteen! Who remained virgin at that age?

Just then Roderick stiffened and leapt up, whirling, reaching for his sword.

“Young man,” a familiar voice said, “do not be more foolish than you already have been.”

Anne sat up, gathering her gown against her bosom. “Who is that? Erren?”

Erren stepped through the doorway, and behind, saints help her, came Fastia.

“We were—” Roderick began.

“About to hump like wild goats? Yes, I saw that,” Erren said dryly.

“Anne, fasten your clothes,” Fastia snapped. “Now. By all the saints, in the house of our ancestors?” Something strange
quivered in her voice, something more than outrage, but Anne could not identify it.

“Anne is blameless,” Roderick began.

But Anne had found her own voice. “How dare you!” she snapped. “How dare you follow me down here? This is my affair, and mine alone! It's no one's business who I love!”

“Perhaps not,” Erren replied. “But it is very much the business of the kingdom with whom you
rut
, I'm afraid.”

“Indeed? Really? What of my father, who lies with every slut who—”

“Hush, Anne!” Fastia shouted.

“—walks into the palace,
no,
I will not hush, Fastia. I cannot help that my blood does not run like ice, as it does in both of you.”

“You
will
be silent,” Fastia said. “And you, Roderick of Dunmrogh, you'd best begone. Now, before this turns into an incident that must come before the court.”

Roderick lifted his chin. “I do not care about that. We have done nothing shameful, Anne and I, and we have only followed our hearts.”

“When hearts swing between thighs, that will undoubtedly be true,” Erren said.

“Don't go, Roderick,” Anne said. It was more a command than a plea.

He took her hand. “I will go. But this is not done. You will hear from me.”

He gave Erren and Fastia one arch glance, then left without looking back.

Anne glared at the other women, as well, marshaling her arguments even as the sound of Roderick's horse's hooves on lead cobbles faded. Fastia's face, meanwhile, was working through some frightful contortions.

And suddenly, Anne's older sister burst out laughing. Erren joined in by grinning and shaking her head.

“Heavenly saints!” Fastia managed. “Where did you find
that
one?”

“It's not
funny
! Why are you laughing?”

“Because it's so laughable! Do you think you're the first to
come to the tombs for this sort of thing? Did you think you were being clever? And Roderick. ‘Shall I stop?’ Oh, dear. And you, thinking he would, that you would even want him to!”

“You were watching the whole time?”

Fastia calmed, but she was still chuckling. “No, not the whole time. Only as it was starting to get interesting.”

“You had no right, you cold-blooded bitch!”

That stopped Fastia's laughter, and Anne was suddenly sorry. How long had it been since her sister had laughed? Even if it had to be at Anne's expense. Her self-righteousness faltered.

Fastia nodded, as if to herself. “Walk with me a moment, Anne. Erren, if you could stay here?”

“Certainly.”

Outside, there was a faint chill in the air. The necropolis lay under silver light. Fastia took a few steps into the courtyard, then looked up at the half-empty moon. Her eyes were wide and glistening. Anne wasn't certain if there were tears there or not.

“You think I begrudge you this, Anne?” she asked softly. “You think I don't understand exactly how you feel?”

“No one knows how I feel.”

Fastia sighed. “That's just part of it, Anne. The first time you hear a new song, you think you're the first to ever hear it, no matter how many lips it's been on. You think I never trysted, Anne? You think I never felt passion or thought I was in love?”

“You don't act like it.”

“I suppose I don't. Anne, I do remember what you feel now. It was the most exciting time of my life.”

“And then you married.”

To Anne's surprise, Fastia chopped her head in agreement. “Yes. Ossel is a strong lord, a good ally. He is a good man, all in all.”

“He is not good to you,” Anne said.

“That's neither here nor there. Here is the point, Anne: Every passion I knew when I was your age, every pleasure, every desire—they are like thorns in me now, twisting. I regret
ever—” She fluttered her hands helplessly. “I don't know how to say this.”

“I do,” Anne said. “If you had never known how good loving could be, you would not hate it so much with your husband.”

Fastia's lips tightened. “That's crude, but that's it in a walnut.”

“But if you had married for love—”

Fastia's voice grew harsher. “Anne, we do not marry for love. Nor may we, like our men, seek love after marriage. That sword does not swing both ways. We can find other pleasures— in our children, in our books and needlework and duties. But we may not—” Her hands darted about like confused birds, and she finally settled them by crossing her arms over her chest.

“Anne, I so envy you, and so pity you at the same time. You are just like me, and when reality falls upon your dreams, you will become just as bitter. I know what you think of me, you see. I have known it for years, since you cut me out of your heart.”

“Me? I was a girl! You cut me out of yours, when you married that oaf.”

Fastia clasped her hands together. “Perhaps. I did not want to. But those first few years were the hardest, and after—” She shrugged. “After, it seemed best. You will marry, one day, and go off, and I will not see you anyway.”

Anne stared at Fastia for a long moment. “If this is all true, I mean …”

“Why did I follow you down here?”

“Yes. Why didn't you leave well enough alone?”

“Weren't you listening? I told you
my
reasons. But there are other reasons. This Roderick—he is a schemer from a family of schemers, Anne. If he were to get you with child, there would be no end of it.”

“That's not true! Roderick is—no, he's not like that. You don't know him, and I don't care about his family.”

“You don't. I wish I didn't have to, but Mother and Father do. Absolutely. Anne, I have nothing if not my duty, do you understand? I could not willingly stand back and let this happen. As much as this may hurt now, it would have hurt much, much more later. And it would have hurt the kingdom, something I know you don't consider yet, but it is true.”

“Oh,
figs
!” Anne exploded. “What nonsense. And besides, he and I—we never—I mean, he
couldn't
have got me with child, because we never—”

“You were going to, Anne. You may think you weren't, but you were.”

“You can't know that.”

“Anne, please. You know it's true. Without my interference, you would not have left the tomb a virgin.”

Anne straightened her shoulders. “Will you tell Mother?”

“Erren already has. She's waiting for us now.”

Anne felt a sudden tremor of fear. “What?”

“Mother
sent
us for you.”

“What will she do? What can she do? I'm already exiled. I won't see him in Cal Azroth.”

“I can't say, Anne. Believe it or not, I
did
speak for you. So did Lesbeth, for that matter.”

“Lesbeth? She told? She betrayed me?”

Fastia's eyebrows went up. “Oh. So Lesbeth already knew? How interesting.” Anne thought there was hurt in her voice. “And predictable, I suppose. No, Mother asked her opinion in the matter, as she did mine.”

“Oh.”

Fastia brushed Anne's hair from her face. “Come. Make yourself presentable. The longer we make Mother wait, the angrier she will be.”

Numbly, Anne nodded.

Up the hill, through the gates into the castle—from Eslen-of-Shadows to her mother's chambers—Anne prepared her arguments. She nursed her outrage, reassured herself of the unfairness of it all.

When she entered her mother's chambers, however, and found the queen sitting in an armchair as if on a throne, her mouth went dry.

“Sit,” Muriele said.

Anne did so.

“This is most disappointing,” her mother began. “I thought,
of all my daughters, in your own way, you had the most sense. I was fooling myself, I suppose.”

“Mother, I—”

“Just keep your tongue, Anne. What can you say that would sway me?”

“He loves me! I love him!”

Her mother snorted. “Of course. Of course he does.”

“He does!”

“Listen to me, Anne,” her mother said softly, leaning forward.
“I. Don't. Care.”
She measured each word for fullest effect.

Then she leaned back in her chair and continued. “Most people in this kingdom would kill to live your life, to enjoy the privilege you hold. You will never know hunger, or thirst, or lack for clothing and shelter. You will never suffer the slightest tiny boil without that the finest physician in the land spends his hours easing the pain and healing you. You are indulged, spoiled, and pampered. And you do not appreciate it in the least. And here, Anne, here is the price you pay for your privilege: it is
responsibility
.”

“The cost is my happiness, you mean.”

Muriele blinked slowly. “You see? You haven't the slightest idea what I mean. But you will, Anne. You will.”

The certainty of that clutched at Anne's heart. “What do you mean, Mother?”

“The lady Erren has written a letter for me. I have arranged for a coach, a driver, and an escort. You will leave in the morning.”

“For Cal Azroth, you mean? I thought we were going by barge.”

“We are.
You
are not going to Cal Azroth.”

“Where am I going?”

“You are going to study, as Erren did. You will learn the most useful arts a lady may know.”

“Erren?” Anne blurted. “You—you're sending me to a
coven
?”

“Of a very special sort.”

“Mother, no!” Tendrils of panic seized her.

“What else can I do with you? You leave me at a loss.”

“Please. Don't send me away.”

“It won't be forever. Just until you've learned a few lessons, until you appreciate what you have, understand that you serve more in this world than your own desires. You need not take vows, though you may choose to do so, of course, in your fourth year.”

“Fourth year! By all the merciful saints, Mother!”

“Anne, don't carry on. You've already embarrassed yourself aplenty for one night.”

“But this isn't fair!” Anne felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.

“Life seldom is.”

“I
hate
you!”

Muriele sighed. “I hope that is not true.”

“It is. I
hate
you.”

“Very well,” her mother said. “Then that is the price
I
must pay. Go now, and pack. But don't bother with any of your better gowns.”