The Skull Throne
Page 128
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thamos said. “It’s weeks of travel through enemy territory, and you’re five moons pregnant.”
“I was strong enough to stand against a pack of coreling assassins,” Leesha said. “You think I can’t hold my own against the Krasians?”
“Krasians fight in the day,” Thamos reminded her. “Will hora protect your child from spears and arrows while the sun shines?”
Leesha knew he was right, but it grated all the same. “They’re just using you. Araine and Rhinebeck, both. A pawn in their political games.”
“And what are you doing, Leesha?” Thamos demanded. “You knew how it would appear when you made such a show of bedding me. You used me to help hide your indiscretion.”
“I know,” Leesha said. “I’m so sorry …”
Thamos cut her off. “And now I have a choice. Marry you, and await my inevitable humiliation, or turn my back on the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
He pulled away. “Perhaps I’m better off dead.”
He turned on his heel and left her alone in the garden, feeling as if her heart had been torn out.
Leesha stood there a moment, shock and pain freezing her in place. But only for a moment. Then she was lifting her skirts and kicking off her shoes.
“Thamos!” she called, sacrificing dignity to run after him. It could not end like this. She would not let it. She had come so close. He had been in her arms. He had been in her. If they must part, let it be with a kiss, and with Thamos knowing she loved him.
Thamos must have been moving fast, or taken a different path from the gardens. She reached the entrance to the palace and there was no sign of him in the hall. She hurried by the statues of dukes past, heading for his rooms. He had to return there to finish preparations for his departure.
There was a sound ahead, coming from the very alcove she and Thamos had used for their tryst. Had Thamos hidden there from her? Or gone there to vent his emotion in the safe embrace of the shadows?
But some things were not meant for shadows. Some things needed the light. Leesha pulled a wardstone from the velvet hora pouch at her waist and moved her fingers to activate the wards, filling the alcove with a bright wardlight that banished the shadows like the sun itself.
But it wasn’t Thamos hiding there. In nearly the same position she and the count had taken their pleasure bent the Princess Lorain and Lord Sament. Momentum saw the lord pump into her twice more before he reacted to the light, falling back and stumbling, trying to pull up the breeches around his knees.
Leesha felt her face heat, lowering the light and averting her eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Sorry or not, you’ve seen us now.” Lorain had an easier time composing herself, gown falling back as soon as she stood. She advanced on Leesha, menacingly. “The question is what should we do about that?”
“You are not promised to Rhinebeck. You should not be expected to save yourself for a married man.” Leesha looked at Sament, now decent again. “I’d heard that Euchor dissolved your marriage, but it was not to a Lord Sament.”
“Sament is friend of mine,” the lord said, “and agreed to lend me his name for the trip south. None in Angiers knows what either of us look like.” He reached out, taking Lorain’s hand. “Dissolved or no, I could not just send my wife alone to a hostile court.”
“My father can tear a paper, but he can’t take back our vows,” Lorain said. “I will marry Rhinebeck if politics demand, but he will never be my husband.” She looked at Sament. “Not even if my husband gets his night wish and dies on this fool’s errand to Lakton.”
“I have to go,” Sament said. “If we succeed at freeing Lakton, then perhaps you won’t have to marry Rhinebeck. If not, I’d rather be dead than have to see it.”
Lorain looked at Leesha, her eyes untrusting. “I expect you cannot understand, mistress. Will you tell the duchess?”
Leesha reached for the woman, ignoring the princess’ shocked look as she pulled her into an embrace. “I understand better than you know. Unless you marry Rhinebeck, you have Gatherer’s word I won’t speak of it.” She looked to Sament. “Should that come to pass, you will return to Miln until there is an heir, to ensure the issue is true.”
Sament grit his teeth, but he nodded once.
“After that,” Leesha said, “what you do is none of my concern.”
She turned and left them, visiting the ball just long enough to ensure Thamos had not returned there. Everyone seemed taller without her shoes, but she had no desire to dance any longer. She signaled Wonda to follow and returned to her rooms.
She sat at her desk, taking a sheet of the precious flower-pressed paper she made in her father’s shop. Her supply was almost gone, and she would likely never have time to make more.
But what was special paper for, if not to tell the man you loved all the words that failed in person?
She agonized long into the night over it, and then sent Wonda to see to it the count did not leave without it in his possession.
Gared was expected to spend time with each of the debutantes when their dances were done, but he signaled Rojer to join them between songs so he was never alone. Each time he drifted inexorably back to Rosal, pulling the chattering young hopeful with him. Soon the lacquerer’s daughter was surrounded by women all unified in their purpose of cutting her down.
“What can a tradesman’s daughter know of running a barony?” Kareen wondered.
Rosal smiled. “Please, my lady. Do enlighten us. Your father, for instance, has run Riverbridge so far into debt he’s been forced to double the bridge tolls. The merchants willing to cross are passing on the cost to their clients, forcing men like my father to pay more for materials, which filters down to the peasantry. How would you address the problem?”
“Those are questions best left to men,” Dinny said, when Kareen had no immediate reply. “As the poet Nichol Graystone said:
“In man and wife the Creator did see
Two souls that beat in harmony
With daily labor, a man doth provide
Food and comfort for his fair bride.
Children and home be her domain;
Thus marital balance is sustained.”
“That was Markuz Eldred, not Graystone,” Rosal noted as Gared’s eyes began to glaze over. “And from a poor church translation. In the original Ruskan it said:
“In man and wife the Creator did see
Two souls to work in symmetry
And in daily labor to provide
Domain and comfort for man and bride
To rear strong progeny in the home
And not bear troubled thoughts alone.”
She looked at Gared, giving him a wink. “Not my favorite Eldred poem. He did better work in his youth:
“A man from Lakton was so hung,
The women he loved were all stung,
Not a one who could take it,
When he crawled on her naked,
So he stuck it up a rock demon’s bung.”
Gared roared with laughter, and it went on thus for the remainder of the evening, Rosal holding her own—and Gared’s attention—against a growing tide of detractors.
The giant Cutter’s hands were shaking backstage when he told Araine that Emelia Lacquer was his choice for Queen of the Bachelor’s Ball.
“I was strong enough to stand against a pack of coreling assassins,” Leesha said. “You think I can’t hold my own against the Krasians?”
“Krasians fight in the day,” Thamos reminded her. “Will hora protect your child from spears and arrows while the sun shines?”
Leesha knew he was right, but it grated all the same. “They’re just using you. Araine and Rhinebeck, both. A pawn in their political games.”
“And what are you doing, Leesha?” Thamos demanded. “You knew how it would appear when you made such a show of bedding me. You used me to help hide your indiscretion.”
“I know,” Leesha said. “I’m so sorry …”
Thamos cut her off. “And now I have a choice. Marry you, and await my inevitable humiliation, or turn my back on the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
He pulled away. “Perhaps I’m better off dead.”
He turned on his heel and left her alone in the garden, feeling as if her heart had been torn out.
Leesha stood there a moment, shock and pain freezing her in place. But only for a moment. Then she was lifting her skirts and kicking off her shoes.
“Thamos!” she called, sacrificing dignity to run after him. It could not end like this. She would not let it. She had come so close. He had been in her arms. He had been in her. If they must part, let it be with a kiss, and with Thamos knowing she loved him.
Thamos must have been moving fast, or taken a different path from the gardens. She reached the entrance to the palace and there was no sign of him in the hall. She hurried by the statues of dukes past, heading for his rooms. He had to return there to finish preparations for his departure.
There was a sound ahead, coming from the very alcove she and Thamos had used for their tryst. Had Thamos hidden there from her? Or gone there to vent his emotion in the safe embrace of the shadows?
But some things were not meant for shadows. Some things needed the light. Leesha pulled a wardstone from the velvet hora pouch at her waist and moved her fingers to activate the wards, filling the alcove with a bright wardlight that banished the shadows like the sun itself.
But it wasn’t Thamos hiding there. In nearly the same position she and the count had taken their pleasure bent the Princess Lorain and Lord Sament. Momentum saw the lord pump into her twice more before he reacted to the light, falling back and stumbling, trying to pull up the breeches around his knees.
Leesha felt her face heat, lowering the light and averting her eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
“Sorry or not, you’ve seen us now.” Lorain had an easier time composing herself, gown falling back as soon as she stood. She advanced on Leesha, menacingly. “The question is what should we do about that?”
“You are not promised to Rhinebeck. You should not be expected to save yourself for a married man.” Leesha looked at Sament, now decent again. “I’d heard that Euchor dissolved your marriage, but it was not to a Lord Sament.”
“Sament is friend of mine,” the lord said, “and agreed to lend me his name for the trip south. None in Angiers knows what either of us look like.” He reached out, taking Lorain’s hand. “Dissolved or no, I could not just send my wife alone to a hostile court.”
“My father can tear a paper, but he can’t take back our vows,” Lorain said. “I will marry Rhinebeck if politics demand, but he will never be my husband.” She looked at Sament. “Not even if my husband gets his night wish and dies on this fool’s errand to Lakton.”
“I have to go,” Sament said. “If we succeed at freeing Lakton, then perhaps you won’t have to marry Rhinebeck. If not, I’d rather be dead than have to see it.”
Lorain looked at Leesha, her eyes untrusting. “I expect you cannot understand, mistress. Will you tell the duchess?”
Leesha reached for the woman, ignoring the princess’ shocked look as she pulled her into an embrace. “I understand better than you know. Unless you marry Rhinebeck, you have Gatherer’s word I won’t speak of it.” She looked to Sament. “Should that come to pass, you will return to Miln until there is an heir, to ensure the issue is true.”
Sament grit his teeth, but he nodded once.
“After that,” Leesha said, “what you do is none of my concern.”
She turned and left them, visiting the ball just long enough to ensure Thamos had not returned there. Everyone seemed taller without her shoes, but she had no desire to dance any longer. She signaled Wonda to follow and returned to her rooms.
She sat at her desk, taking a sheet of the precious flower-pressed paper she made in her father’s shop. Her supply was almost gone, and she would likely never have time to make more.
But what was special paper for, if not to tell the man you loved all the words that failed in person?
She agonized long into the night over it, and then sent Wonda to see to it the count did not leave without it in his possession.
Gared was expected to spend time with each of the debutantes when their dances were done, but he signaled Rojer to join them between songs so he was never alone. Each time he drifted inexorably back to Rosal, pulling the chattering young hopeful with him. Soon the lacquerer’s daughter was surrounded by women all unified in their purpose of cutting her down.
“What can a tradesman’s daughter know of running a barony?” Kareen wondered.
Rosal smiled. “Please, my lady. Do enlighten us. Your father, for instance, has run Riverbridge so far into debt he’s been forced to double the bridge tolls. The merchants willing to cross are passing on the cost to their clients, forcing men like my father to pay more for materials, which filters down to the peasantry. How would you address the problem?”
“Those are questions best left to men,” Dinny said, when Kareen had no immediate reply. “As the poet Nichol Graystone said:
“In man and wife the Creator did see
Two souls that beat in harmony
With daily labor, a man doth provide
Food and comfort for his fair bride.
Children and home be her domain;
Thus marital balance is sustained.”
“That was Markuz Eldred, not Graystone,” Rosal noted as Gared’s eyes began to glaze over. “And from a poor church translation. In the original Ruskan it said:
“In man and wife the Creator did see
Two souls to work in symmetry
And in daily labor to provide
Domain and comfort for man and bride
To rear strong progeny in the home
And not bear troubled thoughts alone.”
She looked at Gared, giving him a wink. “Not my favorite Eldred poem. He did better work in his youth:
“A man from Lakton was so hung,
The women he loved were all stung,
Not a one who could take it,
When he crawled on her naked,
So he stuck it up a rock demon’s bung.”
Gared roared with laughter, and it went on thus for the remainder of the evening, Rosal holding her own—and Gared’s attention—against a growing tide of detractors.
The giant Cutter’s hands were shaking backstage when he told Araine that Emelia Lacquer was his choice for Queen of the Bachelor’s Ball.
