The King's Daughters (17 page)

I glared at Milo in shock; it took all of my self-control to prevent my jaw from dropping. Well, I couldn't allow myself to look like some gawking idiot in front of the queen.

Satisfied by Milo's answer, the queen nodded. "I thought so. Don't worry, young man, I won't ask you any other rude questions." The queen turned to Countess Ivana. "See my dear, I was right."

The countess curtseyed. "Indeed you were, Your Highness."

"Ivana overestimated the virtue of our courtesans. With their husbands gone to Farrell, many ladies see your valet as a rare source of entertainment. One without risk and consequence. Please, you mustn't be too harsh with him, Prince Amir. After all he is still a man. Promise me he will be spared your wrath and won't be punished. I would feel terribly guilty if my curious questioning caused this young man pain."

This queen was a talented diplomat, and like all good diplomats she was cunning, yet I sensed no deviousness in her. Truthfully, I found her kind and forgiving. Now I understood why the king loved her so. I bowed to her again, agreeing not to punish Milo. The boy was lucky, because I was so mad at him right now, I could have skinned him alive.

"Your behavior pleases me. Kindness is a rare quality among the nobles. I can see why Eva's attracted to you. Now let's change the subject, shall we. My dear prince, I couldn't help noticing how you were admiring my room."

"Yes—it is beautiful. Its architecture is very unlike the rest of the castle."

The queen became pensive, as if recalling pleasant memories, and for a fleeting instant one could see what a stunning beauty she must have been before her health failed. Then her gaze regained focus. "This room is a copy of my father's sun room in his seaside palace. My father is King Herolio of Carltes. All that is missing here is an ocean view. But enough about this. Please, sit and tell me about you and the wonderful land of Telfar. I'm literally dying to hear about it."

I watched the expression of the ladies behind her turn grim.

"Oh please, don't mind them. They both lack a sense of humor."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. Would you care to see your gift first?"

"Certainly. You will find me far easier to please than my husband."

"I . . . " Mortified, I turned red. "These are difficult times for His Majesty, the King."

"True. Few people understand how painful it is to have one's child ripped away from one's bosom. To have three is unbearable." The queen's eyes welled up with tears.

Lady Isabo rushed to her side and gripped her hands. The queen leaned against the plain woman. "My dear Isabo understands us. She too had been kidnapped as a girl. She knows the perils my daughters are facing."

Dabbing the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, the queen forced a smile on her lips. "Please, go on, my dear prince."

I snapped my fingers and Milo appeared at my side with the gift. I took the box and, bending on one knee, presented it to the queen.

Accepting the gift with grace, the queen admired the exquisitely carved ivory box at length before gently lifting the lid. Red velvet lined the inside of the box, and nestled in its center was a necklace of baroque pearls nearly the size of hazelnuts with a huge pear-shaped sapphire pendant dangling from it.

Delighted, she lifted the necklace out of the box. "Prince Amir, this is too generous a gift."

"Please, Your Majesty must accept it."

"I certainly will. No woman can refuse such a magnificent piece of jewelry."

I felt tension leaving my body. At least this part had gone well. For the next hour, I did my best to entertain the queen with tales of Telfar while we drank tea. Periodically, my attention would wander to her ladies-in-waiting. Countess Ivana was one of the most charming women I ever had the good fortune to meet. Although she always appeared well clothed with her hair arranged perfectly, I noted that her blue gown, as stunning as it was, was tattered at the seams, stained and discolored in places. By this, I deduced that the garment was old and had been refitted for her. I also noticed that she wore very little jewelry—if one could consider the three small aquamarine pins, with their tiny gems resembling raindrops, hooked to her lapel jewelry. That surprised me a great deal. I would have thought that a woman possessing the countess's multiple attributes would've been dripping in jewels. When I commented on the pins being . . . delicate, she blushed, saying that they were a gift from her poor deceased mother.

The queen patted Ivana's hands. "Our lovely countess is a widow. The count left her with a title and little else. She could remarry, but she refuses, preferring to remain poor and destitute."

"I was prisoner of a loveless marriage once. I care not to relive that misery again. New dresses and jewelry don't bring one happiness."

Isabo snorted sarcastically. "How would you know? Your husband spent his entire fortune on wine."

"Yes, that is true." said the countess. "But at least
I
had a husband. So far no man has shown the slightest interest in you, my dear."

Isabo gasped, her hands rolled into fists. Evidently this was a sore spot for Isabo, because she couldn't have looked more outraged by the countess's remark. She was positively incensed.

Glaring at the countess, Isabo asked, "True, you had a husband, but was he a husband worth having?"

Looking hurt and angry at the same time, the countess stayed mute.

"Ha!" exclaimed a triumphant Lady Isabo. "That's what I thought."

The countess sighed heavily. Her eyes lowered to her dainty white hands. "My husband was a punishment I wouldn't wish on any woman . . . not even you, Isabo." Raising her head, she brought her gaze to me. "That's why I believe that Princess Eva should marry the man she loves. A kind, loving man."

"You truly believe this the right thing to do, Ivana?" asked the queen.

"Yes, with all my heart," said the countess.

"And you, Isabo, what are your thoughts on the subject?" demanded the queen.

Isabo's face hardened. "I'm against it. It's not useful."

"Useful!" exclaimed the countess. "Love shouldn't be useful!"

"A princess has duties and finding love isn't part them. Sorvinka doesn't need a second alliance with Telfar. This prince brings nothing new or useful to the kingdom. Thus, it would be foolish to acquiesce to this fruitless union."

"No—you are foolish!" snapped the countess, face pinched.

"My dear, I'm not the one believing in fairytale romance."

Well, I thought, there was no love lost between those two. Watching the two ladies exchange hate-filled stares and vitriolic words, I suspected that if not for the queen's presence they might have fought like commoners.

Amused by her ladies bickering, the queen burst into laughter. As though by magic, she was transformed by this mirthful act: now tension free, her face looked younger, healthier also, as a flush of pink now colored her cheeks. Then all of a sudden she stopped laughing, clutched her chest, and winced in pain.

Countess Ivana rushed to the queen's side. Not knowing what to do, I stood but remained frozen in place. As for Isabo, she dashed to the armoire in the corner of the room. When she swung its doors open I saw that its shelves were filled with bottles, pots, and carafes. A strong scent of herbs and mineral oils escaped into the air. Isabo began searching frantically amidst all the bottles.

In the meantime, Countess Ivana had unfastened the collar of the queen's dress so she could breathe more easily. Moments later, Isabo was beside the queen with a small glass containing a milky liquid. Between gasping breaths and grimaces of pain, the queen managed to drink the potion. Within seconds of ingesting it, the tension contorting her facial features diminished. I watched the queen's face relax and at last her hand, which had never ceased clutching her chest, finally loosened.

No medication I know can act this quickly,
I thought, and peered at Isabo with suspicion. What had she given to the queen? Doubting that she would tell me if I asked, I turned my attention to the queen again. "How is Your Majesty?"

"Out of danger," replied Isabo. "You should leave. This is your fault. You're tiring her too much."

"Isabo!" breathed the queen in a tone of reproval. "Prince Amir, please forgive Lady Isabo's harsh manners. She's too devoted to my well-being. Quite honestly, without her care I would've died long ago."

"Yes, indeed . . . she seems to be working magic."

A tired smile crossed the queen's face. "I don't believe in magic. I believe in luck however."

"I fail to see your reasoning."

"Isabo, and Countess Ivana for that matter, had just been promoted to my service when I was taken ill. Without their care I would have died—it's surprising that I'm still alive." The queen's expression darkened. "The end is near though. I know it is coming. I can feel it." The queen lightly tapped her chest. "Here."

"Your Majesty—"

"Oh please, I made peace with death long ago. Only one thing troubles me: the fate of the kingdom, and therefore my family, as the two are linked. (Sigh) If my husband had any sense at all, he would remarry, preferably with Isabo, and produce sons." The queen shook her head. "If he had any sense he would not place Lars on the throne. The boy's too inept to rule."

I smiled at the queen, but couldn't help thinking,
Isabo—why her? Why not Ivana?
To me the countess was a much better choice.

"You're questioning my choice," whispered the queen. "I see it in your eyes." She squeezed Isabo's hand. "My husband needs an advisor as much as he needs a wife, I fear. Roles I have fulfilled until my health prevented me from doing so—with disastrous consequences." The queen produced a resigned smile. "Isabo is the best choice. I trust her to put the good of the country above all else."

"I'm afraid the king loves you too much to ever agree to remarry," said the countess.

"I'm not dead yet, my dear. If it's the last thing I do, I will persuade him to do otherwise. That dear, stubborn husband of mine, he always listens to me in the end."

While the queen and the countess continued to argue about the king, my attention wandered to the armoire, which Isabo had left open. Taking advantage of the ladies' distraction, I made my way to the massive piece of furniture and began a quick survey of its contents. I knew what I was looking for, the deadly digitalis. To my astonishment, I saw that none of the bottles of herbs and essences stored in the armoire were labeled.
How can she know what is what? One has to be very experienced to be able to recognize these substances without their labels.

Squinting, I focused on the row of bottles containing liquids. One in particular caught my attention. It was almost empty; still, there was enough of the clear syrupy liquid left at the bottom of the bottle for me to think that it could be essence of digitalis. I was about to reach for the bottle, when suddenly my entire body stiffened.

"What are you doing?" a voice snapped behind me.

I turned. Isabo stood a step from me. The aura of magic irradiating from her was suffocating me; I had to back away.

She immediately moved forth and shut the armoire's doors; in doing so she brushed up against me. A tingling sensation invaded my stomach. The feeling was so intense, I nearly gagged from the effect, and I had to summon all my inner strength just to remain upright.

"You are . . . expert at potion-making," I managed to utter without being sick.

She threw me a hostile look. "I know a few things. Now if you please, I must attend to the queen."

I bowed. I knew she had left before I rose, for the simple reason that my nausea was gone. While I was still bent I noticed a strange brownish-red object peeping out from behind the armoire's foot. I crouched and picked it up.
A root?
I turned it over. Shaped like a deformed human being, I recognized the root immediately.
Mandrake, a spell ingredient of choice.

I replaced the root before rising and facing the ladies again. Only then did I notice Countess Ivana's persistent attempt to make eye contact with me. I also noticed her nervous fidgeting, her sudden pallor, and her trembling hands. Was she afraid? I wasn't sure, but at the very least she was uneasy about something. The queen's illness, I suppose. I gave her a smile of acknowledgment; then I made my farewell to the queen and left.

* * *

Milo awaited me at the door. I shot him the darkest look I could muster. He lowered his head. The message had passed. He knew what was coming. We needed to talk about those notes, but it would have to wait until we reached the privacy of my rooms, I decided. In silence, we began walking in the direction of "Draft Alley."

I hadn't taken five steps before I changed my mind. I stopped and faced Milo. "Explain yourself."

Milo opened his mouth, closed it, and then after a long thoughtful pause he spoke in a prudent voice. "I never thought they mattered. Two are written in a language I can't read."

"And what about the ones you can read? Can you imagine what would happen if you were caught with the wife of a lord? It's not only your life you're risking, Milo. It's also the honor of my name. As your master, I'm responsible for your misdeeds."

"I responded to none of their advances and invitations. I swear."

"Really. You tell me that all those early mornings when I couldn't find you anywhere, you were
not
with a lady?"

Milo's face turned so red I thought that steam was about to spew out of his ears. Without question, it was the most genuine expression of guilt I'd ever seen. Finally mustering the courage to speak, he said, "Not with any of the ladies who gave me a note."

"Who then?"

"Mirinka. She's a kitchen apprentice."

"A cook!"

"Yes, my lord. She works early in the morning preparing breakfast for the royal family. That's how we met—in the kitchen. I think she likes me, my lord. But if it displeases my lord, I won't see her again."

I stared at Milo, and although I knew I should have told him,
Yes, you better not see her again,
I said nothing. I had promised the queen not to punish him. How much did that promise cover? I didn't know. And how big was his fault really? He hid something from me. I didn't like that.
A cook. All this for a cook.
I was flabbergasted, to say the least.
A cook!
I felt my anger dissipating, and soon I found myself smiling at the whole thing. I would probably allow him to see her again. What harm could it do, really? I peeked at Milo. He looked anxious, awaiting my reply.
Well, he'll have to wait until we're in my room,
I decided.
That will do him some good
.