The Queen's Gambit: Book One of Imirillia (The Books of Imirillia 1) (20 page)

“Yes. Aedon has them, I believe.”

“I think you should utilize them,” Wil said, meeting her eye. “Nothing says ‘I am queen’ more than jewels.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed, Wil, that I don’t often wear any jewelry beyond my crown,” she said evenly.

“But, why on earth not?”

Suddenly, the openness previously gracing Eleanor’s face was gone, and Wil couldn’t quite understand why. Somehow he’d irritated her, and he opened his mouth to ask her why she should take exception. But, thinking better of it, he changed the subject.

***

As Eleanor had hoped, Doughlas returned during their stay at Calafort, and the news he brought her bolstered her spirits and played with her hope. She shared it discreetly with Aedon, Gaulter Alden, and Crispin, and none else. She shared with Doughlas her thoughts on Thistle Black as the two of them met privately.

“You’ll be sent to South Mountain fen the day before we ride out,” she explained. “From the time you arrive, you are to keep your eyes and ears open for any hint of insubordination. I have plenty of proof,” she added. “But, you never know what additional information can do.”

Eleanor then spent the morning discussing trade and the politics of Calafort with Aedon, who, as chief councillor of all the fens, maintained direct contact with the Lord of Calafort.

“We have suspected Thistle Black of minor treason, but had little or no evidence,” Aedon said, repeating what both already knew.

“I was never as worried as I should have been,” Eleanor conceded. “Wil was right on that count: some men need to feel your power to keep themselves in line.”

“He seems to be right about a lot of things,” Aedon answered.

“Hardly,” Eleanor replied with a sharp laugh. “But he does know the game of power and intimidation or, at least, how to play it.” She moved her finger along the table and looked up at Aedon. “In this circumstance it follows he may be right.”

Aedon nodded. “I agree. You’re a good and capable queen, Eleanor. And, if Thistle Black can’t get that through his head, you have to get him to understand it another way. A man should need no reminders of where his loyalties lie.”

***

Wil and Aedon came in late on the last day in Calafort, having seen the take down of all training areas completed before they returned into the city. The walk back was quiet, occasionally interrupted by an observation or comment from one or the other. Certain that they’d missed dinner, Wil followed Aedon down a stairway of the great house and into the kitchens, where the staff was busy cleaning up and putting away food.

“Did you miss evening meal?” asked a serving girl, who had been making eyes at the men all week.

“Yes,” Aedon replied. “Is there possibly anything left over?”

The cook, who had not been making eyes at anybody, harrumphed.

Before long, they were settled in the corner of the kitchen, sampling a hastily thrown together abbreviation of what the other guests had already eaten.

“Is Eleanor prepared to ride out tomorrow?” Wil asked Aedon as they ate. She had been short with Wil for the last week—he figured he’d said something else which had raised her ire—and they’d avoided speaking as much as possible.

“I believe so,” Aedon replied matter-of-factly.

“Miya said her gowns were finished a few days ago.”

Aedon gave Wil a tilted smile. “You’ve been reconnoitering with her maid?”

“For the sole reason,” Wil defended, “that for the last seven days, Eleanor has been as likely to singe my eyebrows off as to speak civilly with me. I’ve found that information at a distance serves just as well.”

“Eleanor? Singeing?” Aedon asked. “She’s never like that—at least, not for long.”

“Not with
you
maybe.”

Aedon laughed, loud enough that a few of the kitchen staff looked in their direction. “You do bring something out in her that no one else does,” Aedon admitted.

“Hmmm.” Wil chewed on his bread thoughtfully. “Do you have any idea why?” he asked. “Aside from all the major faults she sees in my character, of course.”

“Clearly,” Aedon conceded good-naturedly. Then his eyes rested on Wil, and his aspect turned thoughtful. “Would you honestly like me to answer that question?” What Wil saw behind Aedon’s composed face frightened him, and he backed away from that truth.

“No, I don’t,” he replied.

Aedon did not press.

“Eleanor said that she’d left Thayne’s jewelry in your safekeeping,” Wil said to Aedon, shifting the conversation.

Aedon nodded.

“Has she asked for them?” Wil asked.

“No, I don’t believe she intends to use the jewelry,” Aedon replied. “Does it really matter?”

Wil slumped back in his chair and pushed his empty plate away. “If there is one thing that I have learned as a son of Imirillia, Aedon, it is the art of intimidation. It may sound like a small thing, but I wish Eleanor would consider it.”

“Then, quit hiding behind her maid and tell Eleanor again, straight out, why you think it’s a good idea,” Aedon counseled. “Eleanor has never once let her temper trump her reason. She will think through your words, even if she finds you annoying in the process.”

Laughing, Wil gave Aedon a double take. “I don’t hide.”

“You don’t hide,” Aedon said thoughtfully, “except from Eleanor. She seems to have
that
effect on you. Something is said, and you disappear, distancing yourself for a few days.”

Wil almost responded by asking,
Do you want to know why?

And Aedon, as if he could read the question in Wil’s face, shook his head. No, he did not.

“Come to my rooms in the morning,” Aedon said. “And you can take the jewelry to Eleanor yourself. If you feel it’s important enough to discuss again, you can trust she won’t take your head in the process,” Aedon added and stood. “Good night, Wil.”

Wil watched the councillor leave the kitchen and then grimaced, pressing his own fingers firmly against the table. It was not his head he was worried about losing.

***

The company rode out early, making their way west. In a few days, they would break journey at a royal hunting lodge in the forest near South Mountain fen. And then they would deal with Thistle Black. Eleanor, not as accustomed to the amount of noise and movement Calafort had provided, was, for now, relieved to find herself alone with her thoughts with two days’ ride stretched out before her. The council did well to give her space, and whenever they stopped, she  would disappear, Second Scroll in hand, taking a few moments to read—and think.

Wil Traveler she ignored altogether. It was trying enough, to always have his voice inside her head, and alluring enough to seek him out in conversation, which nearly always turned to a frustrating challenge of differing opinion. So, she kept her own company and counsel. And, two days later, when they rode into the stable yard of the hunting lodge, she dismounted, informing Gaulter Alden and Aedon that they would leave for South Mountain fen come morning, and disappeared into the privacy of her rooms.

Eleanor slept early, and before dawn she awoke, making preparations for the ride into South Mountain fen. Miya braided Eleanor’s hair, causing it to fall down to the side of her neck, tucked in a graceful knot, before helping Eleanor step into the black dress of Marion velvet. It was elegant and full, more abundant than the gowns Eleanor usually wore. Calafort, being a port city, often kept abreast of the styles in Marion. As a result, changes in Calafort fashion moved faster than in the rest of Aemogen, and to Edythe’s dismay, that included Ainsley.

Miya pulled tight as she laced up the gown, grunting and asking Eleanor to breathe in.

“I do have to be able to inhale, Miya, if I am to ride a horse for several hours. You do understand this?”

Her maid, who had apparently had enough of the battle run, pulled harder. As the form of the gown wrapped around her body, Eleanor stared at her reflection. The neck of the gown was cut square, lower than usual, with black lace trim around the bodice that ran up the neckline to her shoulders. The lace then turned, resting up the back of her neck, creating a high collar. Eleanor raised her fingers to touch it, feeling self-conscious. The sleeves came to her elbows, trimmed out in black lace and gold beads, as was the hemline. The velvet around Eleanor’s waist was pulled and wrapped towards her left hip, sewn into place and embellished with a gold broach. The skirt, made from yards of velvet, entertained many folds and full tucks. As Eleanor moved, the folds opened, revealing scatterings of gold beads and embroidery, cascading like fountains of stars when they caught the light. Her skin, set dramatically against the black, had never appeared fairer.

“Can you see yourself properly?” Miya asked, adjusting the large standing mirror.

“The opulence of this gown is rather embarrassing,” Eleanor replied. Her waist looked diminutive, compared to the voluminous skirts, and Eleanor felt she could not breathe, it having had been laced so tight. Miya kept wondering aloud about the fine material, the sewing, and the unusual detailing.

“It makes you look—” the maid tried to explain as Eleanor stared at the dress before the mirror. “You almost don’t look like yourself,” Miya faltered. “Like you are a woman I don’t know. In such a gown, you’re very compelling, but—”

“But what?” Eleanor asked, her cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, I don’t really know, Your Majesty,” Miya said. “It’s just different.”

They heard a knock, and Eleanor sent Miya to see who was there. As soon as she was alone, Eleanor pressed her palms against the waist of the dress, embarrassed, despite being alone. She moved her fingers to the lace neckline again. Her collarbones were exposed, the whiteness of her skin striking.

“You look very nice,” Wil said from the doorway. “With a few adjustments, it could be perfect. Would you mind stepping away from the mirror a moment?” When Eleanor spun around, challenge wreathing her expression, Wil paused before he added, “Please?”

“Since when have you been given the right to burst into my private rooms?” Eleanor said, indignant.

“Miya said I should come in,” Wil explained, pointing towards the outer chamber. “She’s speaking with Hastian, if you want to ask her.”

Eleanor knew that her cheeks were red with embarrassment, and she passed over his words, responding with her own foremost thought. “You accuse me of lacking formality, yet you break all rules of propriety,” she said, adding, “You are not welcome here.”

“I am here to help you finish your ensemble,” he said, quite serious. When her expression did not ease, he held up a small bag in his hand and attempted, what Eleanor supposed, was humor, “I come bearing gifts.”

Eleanor’s sense of privacy felt acutely invaded, but she forced herself to take as much of a slow breath as the gown would allow before she spoke. “Show me what you have and then get out.”

“Your new persona is working already,” Wil quipped bluntly as he walked toward her, discomfort finally appearing in his own expression. Eleanor itched under her self-consciousness as Wil gave a detached study of her dress. “They’ve done a beautiful job,” he finally said. “It’s an improvement on the current styles of the Marion court and a definite improvement on the dresses you have worn throughout the battle run.”

“Old Ainsley forbid I spend two months in comfortable clothing,” Eleanor shot back. Wil raised his hands against the attack, looking as aggravated as Eleanor felt.

“Truce!” he said. “I didn’t say that you haven’t looked nice.”

Eleanor wanted to throw him out on his ear. She wanted to be home. She wanted the immense pressure of the unknown to disappear, to evaporate. She wanted reassurance. With a stony expression, Eleanor faced Wil.

“I was not angling for a compliment,” she said.

“I didn’t think you were,” Wil said, lifting one of his hands in an effort to respond without escalating the conversation. “Now, I know it is a traditional stance in Aemogen to wear little jewelry,” he began. “But—and please consider what I tell you now—in a situation that could lead to treason, however small, it’s worth using every painstaking detail for leverage. Better wit and power, rather than violence. Isn’t that how you feel?” he asked. “So, while details like jewelry may seem unnecessary to you, a man like Thistle Black will take note and mark it as a symbol of power.”

Lips tightly pressed, Eleanor ordered her interior frustrations be silent and thought about his words before responding. “The advantage offered would be so slight—”

Wil took a step towards her. “Slight advantages are what win contests, Eleanor.”

She creased her eyebrows together. It was the first time he had used her name. Wil must have had the same thought, for a flush spread up from his neck.

“Will you please try them on?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Right,” Wil said as he stepped away, opening the bag onto the top of a nearby bureau. He picked something up between his fingers and turned back towards Eleanor. A small unripe apple was in his hand. “I don’t think you are going to like this very much. Miya?” he called out, looking away from Eleanor’s questioning eyes as the maid entered the room.

“Are the awls heated in the fire?” he asked.