The High King's Tomb
Page 71
She rose to her feet, trembling a little, and laid her hand on his forearm. “What of your research?”
“It can wait for a little while. A rare moment to speak with you without the hordes surrounding us is not to be discarded.”
Estora walked with him out of the library, the elderly terrier plodding behind them. They strolled the main corridor and though many tried to speak with Zachary, he waved them off or asked them to seek out his secretary, Cummings. The people bowed away, and others who saw the king and Lady Estora together murmured among themselves.
Eventually they made their way to Zachary’s study and halted outside the door.
“I hope it pleases you,” he said.
“What?” Confused, Estora glanced from him to the door.
He chuckled and opened it, and led her within. The chamber was light filled, but hollow, for all of Zachary’s furnishings and belongings had been removed, including the big marble-top desk. All that remained was a tiny pedestal table on which sat a vase of exotic and fragrant flowers.
Estora could only stand there speechless.
“The flowers were given to us by the Eletians,” he said, “but they seem more appropriate here, for you.”
“Your study,” she finally managed to say.
“It was my study, but before it was my study, it was always the queen’s solarium, though not used for that purpose since the passing of my grandmother. Now it’s yours to use and furnish as you wish, and I believe you will enjoy the access to the gardens.
Estora put her hand to her cheek in disbelief. “It—it’s wonderful, thank you.”
“My grandmother had other private places,” he said, “and here she often sat with her ladies at tea or needlework, gossiping away. They also played games and listened to minstrels, but you may keep the solarium as private or public as you wish. At your word, you may deny anyone entrance, including your mother and father.”
“I can? I mean…I mean I can.”
“Yes,” Zachary said. “You are a princess of the realm, soon to be queen. It will be your privilege to command even your family.”
Estora thought she would cry. To think this was all hers, and hers alone. Maybe coming to love Zachary as more than her king would not be so difficult after all.
“Inform Sperren of your needs,” Zachary said. “Furnish and decorate it however it may please you.” He stroked his chin, and mused, “It is as it should be, a queen’s solarium once again.”
She then took his hand into her own. It dwarfed hers, was solid and strong, and calloused from sword work.
“Thank you,” she said. “I cannot express how happy this makes me.”
“Your smile tells me much,” he replied. “And remember always, if there is some matter you believe requires my attention, no matter how trivial, that you come to me with it immediately. We have been treading separate paths, and it seems to me that we need to know one another better as our paths become one. Otherwise, I fear it will be a longer winter than usual.”
Estora’s heart fluttered. Was this the moment to be honest with him? To open up to him and reveal her relationship with F’ryan? She closed her eyes and trembled.
“My lady?” Zachary asked, concern in his voice. “Are you well?”
“Yes, I—” she began, but broke off, too terrified to continue. No, no, she thought. There is time yet. I am not ready. So instead, she said, “My lord, with your leave, I should like to look upon the Eletians myself.”
He froze and she perceived the first hint of a frown. “I am sorry my lady, but I cannot permit you to leave castle grounds. The Eletians are still too unknown an entity, and we must not put you in any danger, no matter how minuscule the threat may seem.”
“I will not be held here like a prisoner.”
“You are no prisoner, my lady, but the future of Sacoridia, thus a treasure to protect for your people.”
Now it was Estora’s turn to frown. “You believe what that old Huradeshian woman, that seer, said?”
“Whether or not she is blessed with a true gift of sight,” he said, “her words are wise. My lady, I must ask you to remain patient until we learn more of the mind of the Eletians, and then, if all goes well, you will more than likely see them up close.”
With that as his final word, he took leave of her, left her alone in the room, alone but for the flowers and sunshine. She gazed out into the garden.
I am a prisoner. I am a well-kept prisoner.
It occurred to her that maybe the gift of the solarium was to blunt her feelings of imprisonment, a bribe to keep her happy and distracted from thoughts of the Eletians, and maybe, despite all his kindly words, it was all Zachary intended for her. If this was the case, she despaired of him understanding her past with F’ryan.
THE RAVEN MASK
When darkness shrouded the castle grounds and evening passed into the deep of midnight, and when all was quiet but for the third watch of the guard and those restless souls tossing and turning in their beds, the Raven Mask scaled the wall of the castle’s east wing. Dressed in tight-fitting black and dark gray, with soot smeared across his face beneath his silk mask, he blended into the night as he crawled upward like a spider, his limbs splayed as he searched for finger-and toeholds among the ashlars, gutters, cornices, and decorative embellishments of the wall. If Morry knew what he was up to, the old man would probably keel over from heart failure. So Morry had not been told.
“It can wait for a little while. A rare moment to speak with you without the hordes surrounding us is not to be discarded.”
Estora walked with him out of the library, the elderly terrier plodding behind them. They strolled the main corridor and though many tried to speak with Zachary, he waved them off or asked them to seek out his secretary, Cummings. The people bowed away, and others who saw the king and Lady Estora together murmured among themselves.
Eventually they made their way to Zachary’s study and halted outside the door.
“I hope it pleases you,” he said.
“What?” Confused, Estora glanced from him to the door.
He chuckled and opened it, and led her within. The chamber was light filled, but hollow, for all of Zachary’s furnishings and belongings had been removed, including the big marble-top desk. All that remained was a tiny pedestal table on which sat a vase of exotic and fragrant flowers.
Estora could only stand there speechless.
“The flowers were given to us by the Eletians,” he said, “but they seem more appropriate here, for you.”
“Your study,” she finally managed to say.
“It was my study, but before it was my study, it was always the queen’s solarium, though not used for that purpose since the passing of my grandmother. Now it’s yours to use and furnish as you wish, and I believe you will enjoy the access to the gardens.
Estora put her hand to her cheek in disbelief. “It—it’s wonderful, thank you.”
“My grandmother had other private places,” he said, “and here she often sat with her ladies at tea or needlework, gossiping away. They also played games and listened to minstrels, but you may keep the solarium as private or public as you wish. At your word, you may deny anyone entrance, including your mother and father.”
“I can? I mean…I mean I can.”
“Yes,” Zachary said. “You are a princess of the realm, soon to be queen. It will be your privilege to command even your family.”
Estora thought she would cry. To think this was all hers, and hers alone. Maybe coming to love Zachary as more than her king would not be so difficult after all.
“Inform Sperren of your needs,” Zachary said. “Furnish and decorate it however it may please you.” He stroked his chin, and mused, “It is as it should be, a queen’s solarium once again.”
She then took his hand into her own. It dwarfed hers, was solid and strong, and calloused from sword work.
“Thank you,” she said. “I cannot express how happy this makes me.”
“Your smile tells me much,” he replied. “And remember always, if there is some matter you believe requires my attention, no matter how trivial, that you come to me with it immediately. We have been treading separate paths, and it seems to me that we need to know one another better as our paths become one. Otherwise, I fear it will be a longer winter than usual.”
Estora’s heart fluttered. Was this the moment to be honest with him? To open up to him and reveal her relationship with F’ryan? She closed her eyes and trembled.
“My lady?” Zachary asked, concern in his voice. “Are you well?”
“Yes, I—” she began, but broke off, too terrified to continue. No, no, she thought. There is time yet. I am not ready. So instead, she said, “My lord, with your leave, I should like to look upon the Eletians myself.”
He froze and she perceived the first hint of a frown. “I am sorry my lady, but I cannot permit you to leave castle grounds. The Eletians are still too unknown an entity, and we must not put you in any danger, no matter how minuscule the threat may seem.”
“I will not be held here like a prisoner.”
“You are no prisoner, my lady, but the future of Sacoridia, thus a treasure to protect for your people.”
Now it was Estora’s turn to frown. “You believe what that old Huradeshian woman, that seer, said?”
“Whether or not she is blessed with a true gift of sight,” he said, “her words are wise. My lady, I must ask you to remain patient until we learn more of the mind of the Eletians, and then, if all goes well, you will more than likely see them up close.”
With that as his final word, he took leave of her, left her alone in the room, alone but for the flowers and sunshine. She gazed out into the garden.
I am a prisoner. I am a well-kept prisoner.
It occurred to her that maybe the gift of the solarium was to blunt her feelings of imprisonment, a bribe to keep her happy and distracted from thoughts of the Eletians, and maybe, despite all his kindly words, it was all Zachary intended for her. If this was the case, she despaired of him understanding her past with F’ryan.
THE RAVEN MASK
When darkness shrouded the castle grounds and evening passed into the deep of midnight, and when all was quiet but for the third watch of the guard and those restless souls tossing and turning in their beds, the Raven Mask scaled the wall of the castle’s east wing. Dressed in tight-fitting black and dark gray, with soot smeared across his face beneath his silk mask, he blended into the night as he crawled upward like a spider, his limbs splayed as he searched for finger-and toeholds among the ashlars, gutters, cornices, and decorative embellishments of the wall. If Morry knew what he was up to, the old man would probably keel over from heart failure. So Morry had not been told.
