Golden Fool

Page 92

He sighed. “I do not think so. She excused herself early from the gaming last night.”
“Or Chade.”
He winced, already dreading the councilor’s opinion of his rashness. “No. He too left the tables early. He seems weary and distracted of late.”
Too well did I know that. I shook my head slowly. “This is not something that can be solved with the Skill, lad. Wiser to take it immediately to those who know diplomacy the best. And then do whatever they say.”
“What do you think they will demand of me?” There was dread in his voice.
“I don’t know. I think a direct apology might be a mistake; it would only confirm that you had insulted her. But . . . Oh, I don’t know, Dutiful. Diplomacy has never been my talent. But perhaps Chade will know something you can do. Some special attention from you to confirm that you do think Elliania is beautiful and a woman.”
“But I don’t.”
I ignored his bitter little contradiction. “And above all, do not go out riding alone with Lady Vance. I suspect you’d be wise to avoid her company entirely.”
He slapped his hand on the table in frustration. “I can’t back out on paying my wager!”
“Then go,” I snapped. “But if I were you, I’d be sure that Elliania rode at my side, and that your conversation was with her. If Civil is as good a friend as you say he is, perhaps he can help you. Ask him to distract Lady Vance’s attention from you, make it appear as if he is the one accompanying her on the ride.”
“What if I don’t want her attention distracted from me?”
Now he sounded simply stubborn and contrary, as vexing as Hap the last time I had seen him. I simply looked at him, flat and level, until he cast his eyes aside. “You’d best go now,” I told him.
“Will you go with me?” His voice was very soft. “To speak to Mother and Chade?”
“You know I cannot. And even if I could, I think you’d best do this on your own.”
He cleared his throat. “This morning, when we ride. Will you go with me then?”
I hesitated, then suggested, “Invite Lord Golden. That isn’t a promise to be there, only that I’ll think it over.”
“And do what Chade thinks is best.”
“Probably. He’s always been better than I at these niceties.”
“Niceties. Pah. I’m so sick of them, Tom. It’s why Lady Vance is so much easier to be with. She’s just herself.”
“I see,” I said, but I reserved judgment on that. I wondered if Lady Vance was just a woman who had set her cap for a prince, or someone else’s playing piece, positioned to set Kettricken’s game awry. Well. We’d all find out soon enough.
The Prince left me, locking the door behind him. I stood, silent and considering in the tower room, listening to the sound of his footsteps on the stone steps fade away. I caught the raised voice of the guard’s greeting at the bottom of the steps. I cast my eyes around the room, blew out the candle on the table, and then left, carrying another taper to light my way.
I stopped by Chade’s tower room on the way back to my servant’s chamber. I stepped out of the secret door, then halted, surprised to find both Chade and Thick in the room. Chade had evidently been waiting for me. Thick looked sullen and sleepy, his heavy-lidded eyes even droopier than usual.
“Good morning,” I greeted them, and, “Yes, it is,” Chade responded. His eyes were bright and he appeared well pleased about something. I waited for him to share it with me, but instead he said, “I’ve asked Thick to be here early this morning. So we could all talk.”
“Oh.” I could think of no more to say than that. Now wasn’t the time to tell Chade I’d wished he had warned me first. I would not talk over Thick’s head in his presence. I remembered too well how I had once underestimated the cunning of a little girl and spoken too freely. Rosemary had been Regal’s treacherous little pet. I doubted that Thick was anyone’s spy, but what I didn’t say in front of him, he could not repeat.
“How is the Prince this morning?” Chade asked me suddenly.
“He’s well,” I replied guardedly. “But there is something he’ll wish to see you about, something rather urgent. You might wish to be, uh, where you can easily be found. Soon.”
“Prince sad,” Thick confirmed dolorously. He shook his heavy head commiseratingly.
My heart sank, but I resolved to test him. “No, Thick, the Prince isn’t sad. He’s merry. He has gone to have a fine breakfast with all his friends.”