The Rose Throne (9 page)

“And what would be the point of that?”

“Truth itself?”

Ailsbet smiled again. “You wish me to believe that you value truth for its own sake?”

“I am from Weirland. We value the truth there,” he said.

“I find it difficult to imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that,” said Ailsbet.

“And yet I think it would suit you, strangely. I cannot think of anyone else in your father’s court of whom that could be said,” said Umber. “Certainly not your father himself.”

“But he covets Weirland.”

“Yes. He would enjoy knowing it belonged to him, though he would not visit it often, I think. It is too wild a place, too uncivilized and uncultivated. The wonders of the neweyr in the countryside would not suit your father. There are no cities there, and few buildings with the comforts your father would expect. Even the castle in Weirland is
as small as a minor noble’s estate in Rurik, I think.”

Was this a hint as to why Umber had given up his title and lands? Ailsbet thought over the implications of the fact that her father had taken in a traitor. Was it desperation or merely another part of his game? King Haikor was growing older, but she had not seen him begin to weaken.

“I could guess at why this flute is not fit for a musician. It is not suited to your hands. It is too heavy. It is not the instrument that you have grown to love. But only you can tell me the truth of it,” said Lord Umber, drawing her back to the conversation.

Ailsbet hesitated. “It has a shallow sound,” she said at last.

Lord Umber put a hand to her chin.

Ailsbet flinched. She was not often touched. It was against the law for any to touch the king without his permission, and the same austerity was extended informally to the rest of the royal family.

“Do I look angry to you?” asked Lord Umber.

Ailsbet stared into his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “You keep it veiled, but it is there.”

He laughed, his face coloring to match his cloak. “Angry at myself, then, not at you. I wanted to please you with that gift.”

“I am sure it sounds well enough for most ears,” she said stiffly.

“But you have a finer ear,” said Lord Umber.

Ailsbet sighed.

Umber smiled. “Clearly, I thought too well of my first instincts. I assure you, the next time I bring you a gift, I shall make sure it is one that you will treasure. Will you trust me on that?”

“Of course,” Ailsbet said. “What woman would say no to a man offering gifts?”

“That is not what I meant,” said Lord Umber.

Ailsbet hesitated, wanting to trust him. “Music is what I am,” she said at last.

“But not all of what you are,” said Lord Umber. “You are your father’s daughter, as well, intelligent and witty and strong.”

She was uncomfortable with his compliments, though they seemed sincere enough. It sometimes felt as if he must be speaking to someone else who looked like her, but was not her. To the princess, but not Ailsbet.

If she had been born in Aristonne, Ailsbet sometimes imagined, how different she might have turned out to be. Her musical talent would have been praised and encouraged from the first, and she might have been able to spend all her life making music. Instead,
in Rurik, she had to act the part of a princess. She had to worry about her gowns and her speech and every detail of courtly manners.

“And yet you live among others who do not understand your music in the least, yes?” said Lord Umber, persisting.

Ailsbet nodded.

“Do you know, I think you and I have something in common.”

“What is that?” It was obviously not music, Ailsbet thought.

“We both want one thing very much, to the exclusion of everything else. And we can help each other get it,” said Lord Umber.

“And what is it you want?” asked Ailsbet.

Lord Umber put his hands to his head as if laying a crown there.

Ailsbet went cold for a moment. He wanted her father’s throne and his crown? But how did he think he would get them? This was not about an invasion of Weirland, not to him. Lord Umber was thinking beyond this year, beyond her father’s lifetime. Married to her, Lord Umber would have a good chance of holding both thrones. If her father died before Edik was fully grown, Lord Umber would be the more experienced man, in politics and the
taweyr. But even if her father lived many more years, he might have a chance to take the throne. He had qualities that Edik did not.

“You are very quick to see the truth. That is what I admire in you,” said Lord Umber into her ear.

She stared up at him. “If you think I wish to be queen of both islands,” she said softly, “you are wrong.”

“Oh, no. I know you better than that. Do you think I have not heard a word you have said? You want music, Princess Ailsbet, and I can give that to you, when I have power of my own.” Umber gestured toward the river Weyr, which led south to the Channel of Arhort. In that direction lay Aristonne itself, the seat of all music, the place where Master Lukacs had been born, and to which he had returned. Where he lived now and where Ailsbet might go—if she were no longer tied to the crown.

Umber was ambitious, Ailsbet knew, as well as sly and smart. Perhaps she was wrong to let herself feel something for him, but for the first time, Ailsbet thought that she actually liked Lord Umber.

A
S THE WEEKS BEFORE
the formal betrothal ceremony passed, Lord Umber began to tease Ailsbet with a wicked sense of humor so dark that she found it irresistible. Many at court tried to compliment Ailsbet on her delicate hands or her graceful dancing, things she did not care in the least about. But Lord Umber would whisper under his breath some truer compliment, like “what sharp eyes you have, like knives cutting through fat” and “what strong legs you have, to run away from those who become too obsequious.”

“You have the sparkling wit of your father,” said
a foul-smelling older nobleman one night.

Lord Umber motioned to her and spoke so softly only she could hear. “Your father’s wit is fading like his hair. But your wit—it will remain strong long after you are old.”

“An old woman’s wit, that is what I have?” asked Ailsbet.

“Like my own nanny,” said Lord Umber.

The following day, King Haikor announced that there was to be an autumn hunt, and all the nobles of the court were to attend him.

“My father used to let me hunt with him, when I was younger,” said Ailsbet privately to Lord Umber. She thought she would like to go this time, and she was considering asking her father before the entire court.

“When he could pretend that you were a son and not a daughter, perhaps,” said Lord Umber.

Ailsbet stared at him. Had he guessed the truth about her? She had not thought about what it would be like to be married to a man who also had taweyr. A married husband and wife normally had separate spheres of influence, he with his taweyr and she with her neweyr. Ailsbet had not thought how it would work when she believed she was unweyr, but it was more complicated now. Could she keep it secret
from Lord Umber that she was ekhono, or would it have to come out? And what would she do then? Would he decide that it was to his advantage to keep her secret? Or would he betray her?

“Which he clearly cannot do any longer, however strong and tall you are,” Umber added with a sly glance at her bodice.

It took Ailsbet a moment to understand what he was saying, and then she felt a flood of relief. He meant her father’s hunt.

“But there are many noblewomen who love to hunt,” Ailsbet said. “The outdoor air is pleasant and the thrill of the chase exhilarating.”

Umber shrugged. “Of course. But since your father has grown less nimble and has increased his girth,” he said, “he has become more cautious about showing himself to those he wishes to impress.”

“I am not one of the ladies of the court, surely,” said Ailsbet, “for my father to worry over his appearance.”

“You are exactly that,” said Lord Umber. “How can you forget that you are a lady of the court? I never do.” And again, his sparkling eyes took in her figure, now clothed in a fine silk gown of ochre, cut low over her breasts and clinging tightly to her arms.

It was strange, thought Ailsbet, how at times when
she was with him she could almost forget that she was a woman.

On the following day, Ailsbet dared to stand before her father in the Great Hall with Lord Umber at her side. “Is there any reason why the ladies of the court must not attend the hunt, as they have done in past years?” she asked. “There are some who would not wish to come, but for those who do, surely horses enough can be found for them, and the hunt itself would be enlivened, would it not, by extra company?”

The answer was immediately apparent in the king’s dark expression, though he did not reply himself, but turned to one of his ministers.

“A princess is far too delicate to risk on an autumn hunt, when the male animals are at their peak of taweyr before the winter waning,” said that minister, a Lord Maukrin. “You must see this as your father’s demonstration of love for you, that he keeps the other ladies of the court away when he cannot give you permission to come, as well.”

“Am I to receive no reply from the king himself?” Ailsbet asked. “I am a princess, and his daughter, yes?”

“You are what your father wishes you to be,” said King Haikor softly. “And for now, he commands you to remain at the palace, where you belong.”

Ailsbet turned away, struggling with anger and taweyr once more.

Lord Umber, dressed in a matching deep indigo waistcoat, caught up to her and whispered, “He is afraid that you will ride ahead of him,” he suggested. “With your youth and health, he does not wish you to best him.”

Ailsbet realized in that moment that Umber had somehow seen her impulse more clearly than she had. She did wish to best her father, for she had no outlet for her taweyr. She was not allowed in the battle courtyard with her father’s guard, as Edik was. If she were, it would be the end of her. And even if she were allowed on the hunt, she must be careful. She might reveal herself as ekhono.

For a moment, Ailsbet wondered what it would be like if a man knew that she was ekhono and loved her still. What if he let her compete with him, or even loved her more because she was like he was and could talk to her about his taweyr as he could any man?

But that would never happen in Rurik, at least not while her father ruled. She had thought she was better off spending more time with Lord Umber and the
other men of the court, but now she saw the danger in it. She must keep Lord Umber at a distance, making sure he never saw her anger nor recognized it, nor felt her use taweyr near him.

The king and his nobles went on their autumn hunt alone and Ailsbet stayed at court and thought about the truth. When they returned late in the evening, Ailsbet excused herself. Afterward, Ailsbet was quiet for days on end, answering with as little speech as she could manage. Lord Umber responded by becoming more outrageous in his mocking of her father.

Oh, when the king was before him, Lord Umber was nothing but a flatterer. He told King Haikor that any of the ladies at court would love to have the king’s wandering eye on them. He told King Haikor that he was in his prime still, that his eyes were as fine as a scholar’s, and that he ate his meat with a man’s strength, tearing it with his teeth.

But as soon as they were out of earshot, he told Ailsbet, “Ah, how well he thinks of himself, your father. I need not make up my own compliments, for he tells them to us all.”

Ailsbet smiled despite herself. She did enjoy Lord Umber’s company. She thought of the night before, when the king had proclaimed that he must buy a
new robe because his old one would not sufficiently cover his manly girth.

“He blows wind and his teeth rot, but if only we could sell his perfume, think what a fortune we would make,” Lord Umber continued, “beyond what the whole kingdom is worth. How many men on the continent would wish to give off the scent of an old bull as your father does if it would give them his power?” He waved his fingers above his head like horns.