by Sharon Shinn
“And one person scheming to take away the throne,” Darien shot at her.
Romelle lifted her chin. “You said it yourself, Darien. Odelia will never be queen. So why do I care who inherits the crown?”
“She must have gone straight from this house to Chialto and started romancing Dominic Wollimer,” Zoe said. “She probably didn’t even stop to wash the travel grime off her face.”
“But I don’t understand,” Darien said, frowning again. “How did Alys realize that the primes were considering supplanting Vernon’s other daughters as heirs? It can’t have been widely known.”
Not known at all, Josetta thought, if I didn’t even realize it.
Now Zoe looked a little angry. “My cousin Rhan would be my guess,” she said. “He and Alys have always gotten along famously. So Nelson told his sons, Rhan told Alys—” She shrugged.
Taro still looked disbelieving. “So Alys figures all this out—more than two years ago!—and proceeds to marry Dominic Wollimer just in case the other princesses are put aside? That takes some cold-blooded calculation and long-range thinking.”
“She is capable of both on a grand scale,” Darien said grimly.
“If she wanted the prestige of being mother to the next queen, why didn’t she put her effort into convincing us that Corene was the right one?” Taro asked.
“Because Corene is mine,” Darien said, “and she knew she couldn’t control me.”
“No,” Zoe said, sounding weary. “Because she doesn’t care if it’s one of her daughters on the throne. All she cares about is being in the middle of the excitement of court. Corene is old enough to make her own decisions—she doesn’t need Alys at her side. But a baby? Everyone will have to come to Alys to beg for favors and sue for attention. She regains all the power. Which is all she has ever wanted.”
“Well, she’s regained nothing, because that child will never take the throne,” Darien declared. “I won’t allow it.”
Taro fixed him with a sober stare. “Pardon my bluntness, Darien, but you don’t have anything to say about it. The primes make that decision.”
For a moment Darien looked so hostile that Josetta thought he might throw something at Taro. “Fine,” he bit out. “But if you choose Alys’s unborn child, you can see it through the next twenty-four years of its life. I will not be regent, I will not be advisor—I will not even be living in Chialto. I’ll repair to Zoe’s estate in the mountains, and I won’t leave again.”
“Who needs you, anyway?” Romelle burst out. “All you do is cause trouble and make everyone else unhappy.”
The look he turned on her should have scorched her flesh, but all he said was, “Indeed. Those are my highest aspirations.”
“I think we’ve allowed our emotions to run a little high,” Taro interposed, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Maybe it is time for you to withdraw to your rooms to recover and prepare for dinner. It has been a difficult day for all of us.”
“All this drama could have been avoided if you had been truthful with us,” Darien said.
“Maybe so,” Taro said. “Discretion seemed like the best course at the time.”
“I suppose it was never true?” Zoe said suddenly. “That story you told about the woman sneaking into Odelia’s room and cutting off a lock of her hair?”
Romelle looked self-conscious, but Taro merely nodded. “A fiction to explain our choices.”
“Nelson thought you were lying,” Zoe said. “But I couldn’t believe it.”
He gave her a tired smile. Josetta thought that, despite all the anger in the room, the two primes still remained allies. Somehow that made her feel hopeful. “It was more difficult than I thought it would be,” he said. “The words were ashes in my mouth.”
Romelle started edging toward the door. “Do you need me?” she asked pointedly. “Or can I go?”
Darien looked like he wanted to protest, but Taro nodded, and she slipped away. “There is still so much to decide,” Darien began, but Taro shook his head.
“Not now. Not tonight. In the morning. And perhaps over the following nineday, and the nineday after that. But for now, we are all tired, and sad, and ready to spend some time apart. I will have my wife take you to your rooms.”
In fact, his wife must have been loitering in the hallway, waiting for some signal, for at that precise moment she stepped in. “I have put you all in rooms in the east wing,” she said. “I think you’ll find them very comfortable.”
They made another trek through the house, but this time only to the second story, where, indeed, they found their bedrooms to be richly furnished and stocked with every amenity. “I hope you will join us for dinner in about an hour,” Taro’s wife said. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Josetta made a point of noticing who was shown to each door so she could—if she chose—find anyone else at a moment’s notice. Rafe caught her eye and grinned; he was clearly engaged in the same exercise. They were across the hall from each other. Josetta was sure she didn’t have the nerve to attempt a tryst when most of her family was only a few yards away, but it was an illicit thrill just to contemplate the idea.
The others disappeard so quickly into their own rooms that Rafe and Josetta were suddenly alone in the hallway. That brief moment of solitude was all the encouragement Rafe needed to take two steps to her side and draw her into a close embrace.
“This has been a hard day,” he murmured into her hair as she buried her face against his chest. “My body still aches, but everyone else is in a different kind of pain. I think I prefer the physical wounds.”
“At least you know they’ll heal,” she agreed.
“It was very strange,” he said. “To see this story unfold and be so removed from it—but at the same time, it was so raw that it hurt to watch.”
“It’s not like Darien to permit strangers to witness his battles,” Josetta said. “I think he sometimes forgot you were in the room.”
Rafe laughed softly. “I don’t think Taro ever realized I was in the house. He never looked at me and no one introduced me. I’m surprised to learn I have a room of my own—though, to tell you the truth, I was almost hoping I didn’t.”
She lifted her head, and he took the chance to drop a quick kiss on her mouth. “No one introduced you? How rude! I’m so sorry!”
“I’ve gotten used to being ignored by primes,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if one of them came right up to me and shook my hand.”
“Mirti will,” she promised. “She’s like Darien—relentlessly focused on the components of power. She never overlooks anyone.”
“Just like Darien? Then I can hardly wait to meet her,” he said dryly.
She giggled. “She’s his father’s sister,” she explained. “And even more hunti than he is.” She kissed him briefly and reluctantly let him go. “I need to change clothes.”
“Will I see you later tonight?”
“I doubt it.” She glanced up and down the hallway. “Considering exactly where everyone else is placed—”
“Then I won’t expect you,” he said, “but that won’t keep me from hoping.” He touched her cheek. “See you at dinner.”
She sighed. “And what a delightful dinner I imagine it will be.”
Inside her room, Josetta hurriedly changed into a formal tunic and tried to comb her hair into some semblance of style. When it resisted her best attempts, she headed to Corene’s room two doors down.
“Do you have a hair clip I could borrow?” she asked as Corene let her in.
“I was just going to ask if you had one you could lend to me,” Corene answered. “I look ghastly.”
Josetta laughed. “Hardly that. You look—” She paused, because now that she inspected her sister’s face, Corene did look unwontedly pale and pinched. At the same time, her eyes glittered with an emotion that was hard
to read. Anger. Or maybe grief. They also held a clear warning for Josetta not to ask what was wrong. “You look like you’ve been traveling,” she ended awkwardly.
Corene turned away. “Fortunately, Taro doesn’t really care what people look like. And I get the feeling Romelle doesn’t care about anything these days.”
“No. It’s very sad and shocking, isn’t it?” Josetta said, furiously reviewing the conversations of the afternoon to try to figure out what had upset Corene. “Though you were so good with Odelia! I was really impressed.”
“Oh, well, I sort of know how she feels,” Corene said airily. “No one’s ever going to want her to be queen.”
Of course. That was what had made Corene look so drawn and hurt and unhappy. The conversation about the next heir—and the revelation that Alys had been doing her best to supplant any of the existing candidates. Including her own daughter. Just one more piece of proof that Alys didn’t love her.
Josetta’s heart ached for Corene, but she knew better than to say so out loud. “Well,” she said, her voice as light as she could make it, “I don’t think we know who the primes are going to pick to sit on the throne next. I predict a lot of arguing and maneuvering and lying and plotting. Just the sort of thing I hate.”
“My father hates it, too,” Corene said.
“Fortunately, he’s very good at it,” Josetta replied.
Corene actually laughed. “Yes, he is,” she said a little more cheerfully. “Let’s go down to dinner and watch him do it.”
TWENTY-TWO
Rafe could not wait to leave Taro Frothen’s manor house behind, and he wasn’t the only one. Despite its plush furnishings and the kindness of their hostess, the place reeked of sadness and worry. After the one oppressive dinner, which taxed all of their conversational abilities to the limit, it was clear none of the visitors wanted to stay any longer than it would take to load up their elaymotives in the morning.
He did have one interesting and unexpected exchange with Taro, though. It came after dinner, when all the women accepted an invitation from Taro’s wife to visit the conservatory where she was able to grow flowers year-round. Only Darien, Rafe, and the torz prime remained behind.
That’s when Taro fixed his gaze on Rafe and said, “You’re an odd one. I can’t quite get a read on you. Why’d they bring you along?”
Rafe glanced at Darien, who answered. “Oh, surely you can do better than that, Taro. Zoe and Nelson were able to figure it out. Even Kayle. I’ll be disappointed if you can’t.”
That made Taro raise his eyebrows and resettle his bulk as he stared at Rafe appraisingly. “I don’t think you’re from Welce,” he said at last. “If you’d take my hand, I could probably learn more.”
“Certainly,” Rafe said, and stretched across the table to meet Taro’s grip. The heavy eyebrows shot up, then Taro released him and sat back.
“Kin to Ghyaneth of Berringey,” he said. “Now there’s a mystery in need of an explanation.”
“You see I am dealing with other issues nearly as confounding as Odelia’s secret,” Darien said. “Harboring fugitive royalty might put the kingdom at almost as much risk as squabbling over who should inherit the throne of Welce.”
“He might be an asset, not a liability,” Taro said.
“How so?” Darien demanded.
Taro shrugged. “A living creature is always a thing of possibility. A dead one is not. You just have to remember that living things sometimes have minds of their own—something you, Darien, tend to find an inconvenience.”
Instead of being annoyed, Darien looked amused. “I think the world would run more smoothly if they did not.”
“It might run the way you want it to,” Taro said. “Not always the same thing.”
• • •
That exchange was the last bit of lightheartedness for the evening. Once Rafe retired to his room, he waited hopefully, but Josetta did not appear. In the morning, after the briefest of breakfasts and almost curt farewells to their host and hostess, Darien said to Rafe, “You’re riding with me.”
So there was really nothing to enjoy about any part of the return journey, and Rafe was beyond grateful when the three elaymotives pulled up in front of Darien’s city house late on the following afternoon. “You could come in and eat something,” Zoe said doubtfully as servants began unloading luggage.
“No,” Josetta said without hesitation. “This trip has been far too long as it is.”
Zoe gave her a quick hug, but didn’t press them to stay. “Don’t forget. Darien says that the empress of Malinqua will be here in a couple of ninedays. Which means you must be here—and you, Rafe.”
“I don’t think I’m enjoying all my time with royalty,” he answered. “I always thought it would be more glamorous.”
“It does seem that way from the outside, doesn’t it?” Zoe agreed. “But really, close up, politicking is an ugly business.”
Rafe had to give Darien credit for running an efficient household. It wasn’t twenty minutes between the time they pulled up and the time he and Josetta were on their way again, in one of the big transports that could carry them as well as their guards. Rafe cared less what the soldiers thought than what Darien might think, so as soon as they were out of sight of the big house, he slid closer to Josetta and put his arm around her.
She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t think it would be fun but I didn’t expect it to be horrible,” she said. “But it was. Every minute of it. Except the card games on the ride up,” she added.
“Yes, I found the outbound journey more enjoyable than the homeward one, when it was just the regent and me not speaking in our elaymotive,” he said.
She offered a tired laugh. “You don’t like Darien.”
“Oh, I’m gaining a great deal of respect for him. I think he’s brilliant. He’s like some impossibly skilled street performer. He never loses track of all the very different things he’s juggling—and if one of them explodes on him in midair, well, he just picks up something else and moves on. He doesn’t waste his tears.”
She tilted her head up to look at him. “He’s kinder than that makes him sound,” she said seriously.
“Maybe,” Rafe said. “But that’s not a side of him that everyone gets to see.”
They had turned on the Cinque and headed south, then east. Not until they missed the turnoff toward the port did Rafe realize their destination was the shelter. He kept his disappointment to himself. During the past six days, his body had accomplished a fair amount of healing, and he was itching to get back to the training facility—or back in an aeromotive. But even he realized they’d been away from the shelter too long.
Josetta answered his unvoiced sigh. “Just for a couple of days,” she said. “I’ve been gone so much.”
He kissed her forehead again. “I wasn’t complaining. I’m looking forward to seeing how much work has been done on the tailor’s shop.”
“You’re not,” she said, “but it’s good of you to pretend.”
“Anyway, it might be nice to have a couple of days that aren’t filled with drama and excitement. No spectacular crashes. No terrible revelations.”
“No family members watching your every move.”
“That’s what I’m really looking forward to,” he agreed.
So neither of them was prepared to step inside the shelter and find Steff waiting for them in the dining hall. Well, actually, sanding the edges of a newly constructed wooden table and explaining to Callie’s son, Bo, how to fit together the joints of a broken chair, but clearly engaged in these activities merely to pass the time until the moment they arrived.
• • •
“Steff,” Rafe said blankly. “What are you doing here? How did you find this place?”
Steff laid down his tools and came over, brushing his hands on the back of his work trousers.
“I went to the tavern first, and that man told me to try this address.” He glanced around. “And Callie told me it might be a few days before you got back, but I could make myself useful while I waited.”
That certainly sounded like Callie. “Does Bors know where you are?”
Steff nodded. “He’s not happy about it, but he knows.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Three days.” He jerked his head in a northerly direction. “Mostly I’ve been working over at the tailor’s shop. Helping put up walls and fix the stairs. I like it better than working on farm equipment.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Josetta said, smiling at him. She held out her hand. “Since your brother looks like he’s not going to introduce us—”
“Sorry, sorry. Josetta, as you’ve guessed, this is my brother, come up from the country to complicate my life.”
“That’s not why I’m here!”
“And, Steff, this is—” Rafe hesitated. How to explain Josetta?
“I knew you must be seeing someone,” Steff said with satisfaction. He’d shaken Josetta’s hand and let her go, but he was still watching her with admiration. She was tired, and her travel clothes were rumpled and plain, but there was still a fineness to her skin and an elegance to her bearing. And then, of course, there was that hair. “Last time you visited, you couldn’t wait to rush back here.”
“That’s how I always feel. You of all people should understand. Anyway, this is Josetta.”
“Josetta? Do you spell your name like the princess does?”
She was laughing. “Exactly like that!”
“And, yes, we’ve been seeing each other,” Rafe said, because that was the story they’d devised—and because it was true. “But it’s complicated.”
