The Rose Throne (7 page)

“No, of course not,” said Issa. “It is only—there might be more than one way to interpret what you said.”

“I don’t—” said Kedor, and then he went white. “I meant, when your father has ruled many more years,” he added haltingly. “I do not look forward to his death, of course. I only meant that you will be a fine queen. Not that he is not a fine king. Nor that your mother was not a fine queen. Though I never met her, but I hear from others that she was much beloved. As I know you will be. Not that you are not loved right now.”

“I cannot rule as queen alone,” said Issa. It was apparent Kellin had not told his brother his true
reason for being here, about her betrothal or about Prince Edik. “If I married my cousin who is in line for the throne, I might be queen. But it does not look likely now.”

“I can’t see why. Any man who met you would fall in love with you immediately,” said Kedor. “I’m sure you must have lines of men waiting to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Duke Kellin shook his head. “Enough, Kedor,” he said.

The young man stopped. Issa could see a pinched expression appear on Kedor’s face and she felt sorry for him.

“It is time for me to leave now,” she said, suddenly aware that she did not belong here, that she was intruding.

“Please come back to visit again soon, Your Highness,” said Kedor shyly. “For my sake, if not for my brother’s. I think he spends so much time being agreeable to King Haikor that he has to save up his rudeness and expend it here.”

Issa wondered how often Kellin had come to visit his brother, since Kedor had come to live here. How often could he make an excuse to get away from King Haikor’s court?

“My brother is indeed the better of the two of us,”
said Duke Kellin. “He has always had an open heart and an open countenance.”

“But I have not had your difficulties, Kellin,” said Kedor. “You know that you would not have become like this except that you were trying to save me.”

“Would I not?” said Duke Kellin. “It is impossible to know. But I don’t think I was ever quite like you, Kedor.”

“You are the survivor,” said Kedor. “I would never have managed in your place.”

“Oh? You might be surprised to discover how one can change, when one must. Your life was at stake, and the lives of all our people,” Duke Kellin replied.

“The duke of Falcorn is not known to have a brother,” said Issa, thinking aloud.

“I died,” said Kedor, winking at her. “Three years ago.”

“You look very well for being dead so long,” said Issa.

“Thank you. I feel well for being dead so long.”

Duke Kellin said, “He had an accident. On a horse.”

“I was never much good on a horse,” added Kedor.

“Then it is well that my father did not ask you to be a stable boy,” said Issa.

Kedor smirked.

“You are not what I expected you to be, Princess Marlissa,” said Kellin.

“Issa,” she corrected. “And what did you expect? Claws and horns?”

“Quite the opposite. Clouds and sunshine. A girl who had never seen sadness and would be blown away by the first hint of a cold wind.”

That was how he had treated her, and perhaps what she had deserved. She had acted like a spoiled princess. “I have faced winds,” said Issa. Her mother’s death, for one. And now, this betrothal with Prince Edik.

“I suppose you have. It is too bad for you and Kedor, though. He is already in love with you, I fear. You should have stayed away, and kept him safe from a broken heart.”

“You are cruel, Kellin,” Kedor complained. “You make me glad to be away from you for so much time.”

It was not true, Issa thought. He obviously adored his older brother.

“Well, then perhaps I shall not come back,” said Kellin.

“And perhaps I shall not miss you,” said Kedor.

The two laughed together.

“He knows I would never leave him alone,” said Kellin, turning to Issa.

“You could stay in Weirland, then,” Issa offered suddenly. “And you would not have to be away from him at all.” Her father would offer Duke Kellin refuge, surely, if he offered it to the ekhono. Or was she being the spoiled, naïve princess again to think this was possible?

“Rurik is my kingdom and I am bound to it, to King Haikor, and to Prince Edik,” said Kellin.

“There are others who could take your place, surely,” said Issa.

“There are not, Princess Marlissa,” said Kellin coolly, moving away from her.

Issa left the courtyard moments afterward, conscious of the fact that in Rurik, she would not be able to express any concern for the ekhono, that they would not be visible at all if they were to survive there. In fact, her own life would soon be so changed she did not know if she would recognize herself.

A
ILSBET AND HER MOTHER
had returned after six weeks in the south to find that the weather in the capital city had completely changed. It was chilly, often overcast, and autumn was well underway. For Ailsbet, all the pleasure she had imagined finding away from court was now eaten up in constant vigilance. She could not allow anyone to guess she had the taweyr, not even that she had a secret worth discovering. All her life, she had been skilled at putting on a mask, but now her skills were tested as never before. Perhaps it was good practice, she told herself. She did not speak often to
the other ladies, and she knew they considered her arrogant and unapproachable.

While she was away, she had soon tired of watching Baron Bartel’s wife and daughters and even her mother’s ladies using their magic to brighten rooms with flowers or make elaborate hairstyles or braid weeds into rugs for the winter. They were quaint arts, and though the ladies lamented Ailsbet’s inability to join in, she found herself bored and not at all unhappy that she did not have the neweyr.

Except for the fact that the taweyr was so dangerous, she found it far more interesting. She wondered, if she were not the princess, if she would have had a little time alone somewhere in the woods to play with the full glory of the taweyr. The ekhono hunters might truly come after her then, but it could be worth it.

Ailsbet did not see her father for a full week after her return, and she was left to wonder what his plans for her were. At last, on a gloomy autumn day when the clouds threatened to hold the sun captive forever, King Haikor commanded Ailsbet’s attendance upon him in the Great Hall, the larger and more public room used for dancing and entertaining of guests.

She was so bored with her time inside that Ailsbet
was eager to go to her father, even if it required going through the courtyard into the driving rain. Once inside, she shook herself off, and patted at her hair. Then she entered the Great Hall and curtsied to her father, but not with the full formality that would be required in the smaller and more ornate, gold-toned Throne Room.

With a gesture, King Haikor bid her rise. As she looked up, Ailsbet took in the frieze on the farthest wall, the one that depicted King Haikor’s final battle against Aristonne. It was one of the first pieces of art her father had commissioned after assuming the throne and proving himself capable of defending the kingdom against foreign attackers. There was Prince Albert of Aristonne on his side, wounded, and standing over him, the young King Haikor with a sword in his hand and no mercy on his face. The prince had died on the field of battle, and though his armor and sword were sent home, his body had been torn apart by animals, called by her father’s taweyr and scattered to the corners of the island of Rurik. Such was the fate of those who stood against King Haikor. Ailsbet had never felt the message as powerfully as she did now.

Ailsbet took in the sight of the court around her father, which was the largest audience she had seen
in at least a year. There had to be nearly a hundred courtiers here, including those who normally pled illness, and those who were old and infirm. Taking in the whole of them, Ailsbet felt her stomach clench. She turned to see the queen standing at the side of the king, dressed in a gown of organza and pearls that she did not recognize until she realized that her mother must have had it made from pieces of other gowns for precisely this occasion. The queen looked triumphantly at Ailsbet.

So, it was time. She had delayed as much as possible. She must be prepared for marriage now, to a man who would suit her father and her position as princess. Ailsbet’s first concern must be making sure that her future husband did not guess she was ekhono, no matter how much time she spent with him nor how closely they were bound together.

“My beloved Ailsbet,” said King Haikor. “You are welcome on this special occasion.”

“Ailsbet, you will be a true princess of Rurik today,” said her mother.

Ailsbet offered a strained smile and breathed deeply. She focused her mind on her flute, on the beginner’s songs that Master Lukacs had taught her when she was very young, simple and repetitious. Above all, she must not get angry. Anger was her
father’s favorite way of concentrating his taweyr, but to give in to it would be fatal for Ailsbet.

“Sir Jarl,” said King Haikor, turning to the high-collared, conservatively dressed nobleman at his side. “Is not this occasion a special one?”

Ailsbet had seen Sir Jarl before, though he had not seemed of any particular interest to her. The only thing remarkable about the man was the size of his nose. She wondered briefly if he would take Duke Kellin’s place as her father’s favorite. Kellin had been gone for weeks now, and there was no hint that he would return anytime soon. Perhaps Kellin had been sent north on an errand because he was in disgrace. Perhaps he would never return.

“Indeed, Your Majesty. Any occasion in which you are present is special,” said Sir Jarl, staring at Ailsbet. She stared back at him, not allowing herself to be cowed by him—or by any man. That had always been true, and her father admired her for it. To behave differently now would only make the king suspicious.

Had her mother approved Sir Jarl as her affianced? Queen Aske seemed more interested in the court proceedings today than she normally was. After a moment, Ailsbet remembered Sir Jarl was the queen’s second cousin, once removed. A distant
relation, Ailsbet thought. No wonder her mother was pleased with the choice.

“Sir Jarl, you have often gone with me on the hunt, have you not?” asked Haikor.

“I have indeed,” said Sir Jarl, smiling at the queen.

“And you are often in the fray, though I do not think you have ever struck the final blow.”

“No, Your Majesty,” said Sir Jarl. “I have held myself back from that final glory. It is yours alone, I believe.”

“You have not yet given me your tax of taweyr this year,” said King Haikor. “In the spring, you offered me a kingly sum in gold instead. You pleaded illness, if I recall correctly. And my queen pled your case for you.” He turned to Queen Aske, who now wore the carefully blank expression that she seemed to have perfected after years with her husband.

Sir Jarl went pale.

Ailsbet watched him carefully. She thought this was supposed to be about a betrothal. Why would her father want him to pay his taweyr first?

“If I might have a few more weeks, Your Majesty,” Sir Jarl said, glancing at Queen Aske.

“Some weeks, yes, if I were to do it on schedule. But my queen has spoken so highly of you, I thought you would be eager to give it to me early.”

So was he not the man she was to marry? Ailsbet suddenly felt sick.

“Perhaps we can come to another agreement on the subject of gold,” said Sir Jarl. “My county has done very well this year, and we could pay more in those taxes.”

“I think not,” said King Haikor flatly. He held out his hand and waited for Sir Jarl to kneel before him.

Sir Jarl’s voice trembled. “Your Majesty, please, I have not prepared for this. I have used up too much of my taweyr just last night.”

“Oh? What have you used your taweyr on, Sir Jarl? For I have had you watched every moment of the last month, and my men tell me that you have not used your taweyr once in that time. Very strange for a man at court, would you not say?” said King Haikor.

“I—I am unweyr, Your Majesty,” stuttered Sir Jarl. “I admit it. I am ashamed of it. It reflects badly on my father, who is dead now, and indeed on my whole family.” He glanced at the queen again, and then at Ailsbet, who felt her heart begin to beat like a drum.

Sir Jarl turned back to the king, a bead of sweat dripping from his long nose. “I can still serve you, Your Majesty. As an ambassador to Aristonne, perhaps. Or to the Three Kingdoms. Or here in Rurik,
working with the continental traders. Or on a ship that carries your own goods.” These were all the traditional jobs for the unweyr, jobs that Ailsbet herself could not dare to do, for fear of revealing herself.

“You are not unweyr,” said King Haikor softly. “Or anything like.”

There was utter silence in the Great Hall. Ailsbet trembled, remembering a hundred tiny things she might have done that would have revealed herself as ekhono rather than unweyr.

“I am—I swear to you,” said Sir Jarl. He was sweating profusely.