Firebrand
Page 13
Background voices irritated her like the whine of flies around her ears. Her vision of Cade began to slip away.
“No,” she mumbled, “don’t go away.”
“Karigan?”
She looked up to find Estora gazing at her, her book closed on her lap.
“Lady Amalya,” Karigan said, trying to force herself to alertness. “She . . . she came to prominence after I left for Blackveil. Wait, I . . . when . . .” She shook her head trying to clear it. “It happened while I was gone. Her rise to prominence.” Her dream, or memory, or whatever, was fast dissipating. She actually reached out as if to grasp Cade, to pull him back, to pull him to her as she had failed to do when she returned to her own time. “Cade . . .” It took a moment, and seeing her pain reflected in Estora’s face, to realize she had spoken her anguish aloud.
“Karigan?”
This time it was not Estora who spoke. The voice was male, familiar. Not Cade, and here in the room with her. She looked around, and there beside her stood King Zachary gazing down at her.
“I am afraid we awoke you from some dream,” he said.
Karigan scrambled to her feet to give a clumsy bow. “Excellency, my pardon. I—I don’t know what came over me.”
“It was the poetry,” Estora said, her face lighting with amusement. “I’d say my reading of Lady Amalya’s poetry put you to sleep.”
“Forgive me. I—” Karigan looked about, as if a magic door of escape would suddenly materialize.
“The captain isn’t working you too hard, is she?” the king asked.
“What? I mean, no, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm. Well, you are supposed to be on leave so you may spend time with your family.”
“Is she?” Estora asked. “I did not know they were here. Perhaps they should join us for tea.”
The very idea horrified Karigan, but it was the king who spoke. “I don’t think Vanlynn would approve. The G’ladheon contingent is quite . . .” He searched for the right word.
“Overwhelming,” Karigan provided.
“I was thinking more along the lines of formidable, but overwhelming is apt,” he said. “Very passionate people, are G’ladheons. I am afraid they would exhaust even the most vigorous and determined of people.”
“Perhaps I could tame them with readings of Lady Amalya’s poetry,” Estora replied.
“I do not think we would want our G’ladheons tamed.”
Karigan glanced between the two of them, king and queen, observing the humor in their eyes and the ease they seemed to feel with one another. This should be a good thing. She wanted to be pleased for them, and one part of her was. The other part of her was ineffably sad. Sad for all she could not attain herself.
“With your leave, Your Majesties,” she said almost too hastily, “I should probably go see about that family of mine. I don’t know when to expect them, and they’d probably rouse the whole castle looking for me.”
“So soon?” Estora said. “We haven’t even had a chance to catch up—you must come see me again.”
“Yes,” Zachary said, “the queen could use the company. It would please us both.”
Karigan tried not to read anything into his words and avoided looking at him. Would this tension between them always exist? She mumbled something polite, gave a cursory bow, and began to walk away. Suddenly she paused and turned around. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes, Karigan?”
She noticed he did not use her title. “With your leave, I would like to speak with the Eletian, Lhean.”
“I am sorry,” he said, his gaze softening. “I would gladly grant you, of all people, leave to see him, but the Eletians have already departed.”
Karigan clenched her hands, willing herself not to scream or cry or break something. How could Lhean leave without seeing her first? Eletian, she thought, and that was all the answer she needed.
With constricted control, she bowed once more. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned on her heel and strode out, not wishing to see the pity on King Zachary’s face.
Estora watched her husband as he gazed after Karigan. She knew his was not just the concern of a sovereign for his servant. He loved Karigan, and had for years. Had fate been different, had he not been a king, or Karigan not a commoner, Estora would not be his wife, but fate was what it was, and his wife she was. She had never expected to love anyone again after F’ryan Coblebay, and had resigned herself to her lot in life, a loveless marriage for a noble alliance and to produce children of royal lineage. But something happened during her betrothal to Zachary. She found herself enjoying his company, admired his acumen, and looked forward to discussing the realm’s issues with him over tea. By the time they married, some ten months ago, she had come to love him. When she discovered his heart lay elsewhere, she wished, though she had been ashamed of it, that Karigan would not return from Blackveil.
He slowly turned back toward her, his expression troubled. Absently he sat in the chair so recently vacated by Karigan. When his schedule permitted, he took his mid-morning tea with Estora, and they discussed the business of the realm. He made an effort to collect anecdotes about what was happening around the castle to entertain her in her confinement. They’d grown easier with one another and she knew he was fond of her, but he did not love her, not in the fashion she desired, and not in the way he loved Karigan.
“No,” she mumbled, “don’t go away.”
“Karigan?”
She looked up to find Estora gazing at her, her book closed on her lap.
“Lady Amalya,” Karigan said, trying to force herself to alertness. “She . . . she came to prominence after I left for Blackveil. Wait, I . . . when . . .” She shook her head trying to clear it. “It happened while I was gone. Her rise to prominence.” Her dream, or memory, or whatever, was fast dissipating. She actually reached out as if to grasp Cade, to pull him back, to pull him to her as she had failed to do when she returned to her own time. “Cade . . .” It took a moment, and seeing her pain reflected in Estora’s face, to realize she had spoken her anguish aloud.
“Karigan?”
This time it was not Estora who spoke. The voice was male, familiar. Not Cade, and here in the room with her. She looked around, and there beside her stood King Zachary gazing down at her.
“I am afraid we awoke you from some dream,” he said.
Karigan scrambled to her feet to give a clumsy bow. “Excellency, my pardon. I—I don’t know what came over me.”
“It was the poetry,” Estora said, her face lighting with amusement. “I’d say my reading of Lady Amalya’s poetry put you to sleep.”
“Forgive me. I—” Karigan looked about, as if a magic door of escape would suddenly materialize.
“The captain isn’t working you too hard, is she?” the king asked.
“What? I mean, no, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm. Well, you are supposed to be on leave so you may spend time with your family.”
“Is she?” Estora asked. “I did not know they were here. Perhaps they should join us for tea.”
The very idea horrified Karigan, but it was the king who spoke. “I don’t think Vanlynn would approve. The G’ladheon contingent is quite . . .” He searched for the right word.
“Overwhelming,” Karigan provided.
“I was thinking more along the lines of formidable, but overwhelming is apt,” he said. “Very passionate people, are G’ladheons. I am afraid they would exhaust even the most vigorous and determined of people.”
“Perhaps I could tame them with readings of Lady Amalya’s poetry,” Estora replied.
“I do not think we would want our G’ladheons tamed.”
Karigan glanced between the two of them, king and queen, observing the humor in their eyes and the ease they seemed to feel with one another. This should be a good thing. She wanted to be pleased for them, and one part of her was. The other part of her was ineffably sad. Sad for all she could not attain herself.
“With your leave, Your Majesties,” she said almost too hastily, “I should probably go see about that family of mine. I don’t know when to expect them, and they’d probably rouse the whole castle looking for me.”
“So soon?” Estora said. “We haven’t even had a chance to catch up—you must come see me again.”
“Yes,” Zachary said, “the queen could use the company. It would please us both.”
Karigan tried not to read anything into his words and avoided looking at him. Would this tension between them always exist? She mumbled something polite, gave a cursory bow, and began to walk away. Suddenly she paused and turned around. “Your Majesty?”
“Yes, Karigan?”
She noticed he did not use her title. “With your leave, I would like to speak with the Eletian, Lhean.”
“I am sorry,” he said, his gaze softening. “I would gladly grant you, of all people, leave to see him, but the Eletians have already departed.”
Karigan clenched her hands, willing herself not to scream or cry or break something. How could Lhean leave without seeing her first? Eletian, she thought, and that was all the answer she needed.
With constricted control, she bowed once more. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She turned on her heel and strode out, not wishing to see the pity on King Zachary’s face.
Estora watched her husband as he gazed after Karigan. She knew his was not just the concern of a sovereign for his servant. He loved Karigan, and had for years. Had fate been different, had he not been a king, or Karigan not a commoner, Estora would not be his wife, but fate was what it was, and his wife she was. She had never expected to love anyone again after F’ryan Coblebay, and had resigned herself to her lot in life, a loveless marriage for a noble alliance and to produce children of royal lineage. But something happened during her betrothal to Zachary. She found herself enjoying his company, admired his acumen, and looked forward to discussing the realm’s issues with him over tea. By the time they married, some ten months ago, she had come to love him. When she discovered his heart lay elsewhere, she wished, though she had been ashamed of it, that Karigan would not return from Blackveil.
He slowly turned back toward her, his expression troubled. Absently he sat in the chair so recently vacated by Karigan. When his schedule permitted, he took his mid-morning tea with Estora, and they discussed the business of the realm. He made an effort to collect anecdotes about what was happening around the castle to entertain her in her confinement. They’d grown easier with one another and she knew he was fond of her, but he did not love her, not in the fashion she desired, and not in the way he loved Karigan.
