“A ball?” I asked.
Lia flicked a glance at me. “People dress up, drink fine wine, and dance to music. A traditional form of wedding celebration.”
I didn’t set my teeth. “I know what a ball is. I don’t dance.”
“You have three hours to learn. Ibolya, would you see that Conrí is assigned appropriate chambers? Then send him a dancing instructor. We’ll also need rooms for Lady Sondra and Lord Ambrose.”
Ambrose came forward, leaning heavily on his staff, looking very tired. “Your Highness? If it’s no trouble and you have no other plans for it, would it be possible for me to have the tower room you put us in?”
She opened her mouth, argument in her eyes, then reconsidered. The one lady—Tertulyn—handed her a damp cloth, and Lia used it to dab at the blood on her palm. The one she’d named Ibolya brought a cloth to me, too, smiling shyly.
“That’s a prison room,” Lia pointed out to Ambrose.
He nodded vigorously. “With an excellent view, lots of privacy, very quiet.” Merle clacked his beak. “Yes, excellent egress for Merle. And it has the great advantage of being easy to keep people out of, as well as locked in.”
Lia regarded him with bemusement. At last, a kindred spirit, someone equally unable to understand the wizard. “Anything for the Calanthe court wizard,” she replied smoothly, a glint in her eyes.
Ambrose laughed. “Well played, Your Highness. Very well, as Conrí is staying, so shall I.”
Lia smiled, very pleased despite the weariness in her gaze. “Orvyki, please install the wizard Ambrose in the tower, assign him servants, and see that he has everything he needs. Castor will be in the vicinity. Once he’s free, he and our wizard can consult on their mutual interests.” The young lady led Ambrose away, considerately moving at a slow pace and casting interested glances at the raven. She asked him something and he launched into a reply I couldn’t hear. He paused to touch his staff to the door, then gallantly opened it for the lady.
Sondra had emerged from the bathing room on the other side, plucking irritably at the ill-fitting blue gown. Lia eyed her. “Nahua.” She indicated Sondra. “Retrieve Lady Sondra’s fighting gear and weapons. I assume you’d be happier in those?” she asked.
Sondra, taken aback as she almost never was, replied with a slow nod. “That would be … that’s very thoughtful of you. Your Highness,” she added, sounding as if she didn’t mind saying it for once.
Lia nodded back, some understanding passing between them. “Nahua can assist you in finding other garments that suit your personal style, but are also grand enough for your station and court appearances. You’ll find many here of similar mind-sets to yours. Nahua, perhaps find a place for her near Brenda’s rooms. The finest we have. Consider the Lady Sondra My sister by marriage.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Nahua beckoned to Sondra, who gave me a glance and a shrug, going with her. I didn’t know what to make of it, either, that she planned to treat Sondra like my sister.
“Ibolya, do the same for My husband. He’ll want his gear and weapons, so arrange to have those sent to his rooms. We’ll—”
“No need to find rooms for me,” I interrupted, shaking off my bemusement to focus. “I’ll share yours.”
Lia barely glanced at me. “No, you won’t.”
“There’s enough of them.”
“The number of rooms I have is irrelevant. You can have your own, Conrí.”
“Want to argue this now?” I asked it mildly, but with enough growl to remind her that I could be as stubborn as she. We’d be sharing a marriage bed, starting that night. I had no intention of delaying engaging in battle with her on the subject until then. Most battles are won before the opposing forces ever engage, if planned correctly. Therefore I’d nullify any strategic attempts on her part to put distance between us.
Lia dearly wanted to argue the point. Her eyes flashed with frustrated ire, and she pressed her lips over what must have been several hot-tempered replies that she swallowed back. Tertulyn moved in beside her, glaring ice picks at me. “I am accustomed to My privacy,” Lia finally said, choosing her words carefully. “Something I get precious little of outside these rooms.”
“I see walls. Doors that can be closed to give privacy.” I gave her a long look that I hoped she’d read as reassuring. “Our fates are tied. We can share this space.”
She sighed, resigned. “Fine. Ibolya, would you arrange for My bath?” The young woman hurried away, looking relieved to escape, and Lia fixed me with a narrow stare. “But I expect you to observe My privacy.”
“Euthalia.” Tertulyn surprised me by using Lia’s given name without an honorific and taking her hands. Only the three of us remained, everyone else having been dispatched to carry out the queen’s commands. Tertulyn cast a look full of hatred at me and turned her shoulder, as if that could ward me away. “What in Ejarat are You thinking?” she demanded. “You can’t marry the butcher of Keiost. He’s the Slave King! Enemy of His Imperial Majesty.”
“I can and I have,” Lia responded in cool tones, extracting her hands from the lady’s grip. “And you will address him as Conrí, not that vile epithet.”
“But You’re to marry the emperor.” Deprived of her grip on her queen, Tertulyn wrung her own hands together, dropping her voice and turning her back more fully to me. “Think about what You’re risking. When Syr Leuthar hears, he’ll—”
“Leuthar is dead,” Lia replied, cutting her off. “And I am duly married to Conrí. We can discuss this later, but I need your assistance now to prepare for a public appearance and a ball. As soon as Orvyki and Nahua are free, summon them back to help. I have no idea what I’m going to wear.”
I must’ve made a disparaging sound because Lia moved around her lady, planted her hands on her hips, and glared at me. “Tertulyn, go review My wardrobe. Something fantastic enough for the occasion, but that I haven’t worn before. Or that we can make look different enough that no one will recognize it,” she directed without looking. Her lady obeyed, though throwing me one more black look before leaving the room. “If you’re going to insist on being a constant hulking presence in My private rooms,” Lia said, “then we need ground rules.”
“We’ll share a bed, too,” I replied, laying down my own first rule.
She blinked at me, reassessing, then gave me an exasperated look. “I agreed, didn’t I? Is that what this is about?”
“What what’s about?”
“You insisting on living here.”
“This will be a real marriage,” I informed her. “Ambrose said it needed to be.”
She set her jaw. “I know that. I was there, too. How is that relevant?”
Sawehl save me from negotiating with women about the intimacies of marriage. I knew less about bedding women than courting them. Sondra might give me advice if I asked. On second thought, I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I could ask her that without traumatizing us both. Ejarat only knew what bizarre advice Ambrose would offer. Lia and I would have to muddle through the act on our own. Animals did it without instruction. Surely people could, too.
Lia was staring at me, finely arched brows climbing her forehead as I delayed. “You don’t have to be afraid,” I said, trying to sound gentle. “It can be pleasurable. I’ll be careful. I won’t hurt you.”
Her brows fell into a crinkle of disbelief. “I’m not afraid. You’re new to Calanthe and haven’t seen much of the goings-on here, but believe Me, I’m far from ignorant about sexual pleasures. Just because I haven’t been with a man doesn’t mean I haven’t had sex.” She raised her brows into significant arches.
Her frankness shouldn’t have put me off kilter, but it did. As did the image she put in my head. My face heated and I prayed to Sawehl she couldn’t see it. Or that she wouldn’t figure out just how ignorant I was. She was waiting for my reply, so I settled for, “Good.”
When I said nothing more, she huffed an impatient breath. “My point is that we can have sex without sharing room
s.”
She said that now, but I knew the disadvantage of giving up territory. Besides, I wanted her where I could keep an eye on her. Married or not, we barely knew each other and had been mortal enemies not an hour ago. “I’m staying.”
She turned her head to gaze out the window, her lips moving in a silent litany. Prayers to Ejarat or cursing my name, it didn’t matter. When she faced me again, she’d regained her calm poise, though the effect was entirely ruined by her bizarrely disarrayed makeup.
“Can we just get through tonight, Conrí?” she asked, as if making a formal request. “Presenting a certain image is critical for Me. You can sneer about it to yourself all you like—you can even insult Me to My face and act as if My concerns about clothing and privacy are silly female whims—but in the presence of others, you will show Me respect. In return, I’ll show you respect. In case you haven’t figured it out, the next few hours will be key to how Calanthe, and the entire empire, views our marriage. If you want to be recognized as My legitimate husband, a king in your own right, and worthy of commanding the forces we’ll have to field when His Imperial Majesty inevitably attacks, then you need to present the correct image. We both do. Have I made myself clear?”
“I’m not stupid, Lia,” I ground out, more stung than I should be.
She paused, then pressed her lips together. “No, you’re not. I apologize that I spoke as if you were. I have ample evidence that you’re exceedingly clever,” she added in a wry tone.
The apology surprised me. I reached for her hand—the one without the orchid ring—and peeled it off her hip, holding it carefully folded between mine. “No, I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat. “What do they say? The truth hurts. I hadn’t thought ahead to the politics. Not my strong suit.”
A slight smile curved her lips. “Well, you’ve had other things on your mind today, so I can hardly blame you there. Fortunately thinking ahead to the politics is what I am good at. Let Me do it.”
I acknowledged that by inclining my head. On impulse, I followed the movement down and brushed a kiss over the back of her hand. She didn’t gasp, but I felt the reaction in her, maybe through the new connection. I straightened and looked into her eyes. She regarded me just as gravely. “Maybe we can learn to work as a team,” I said, then attempted a smile. “After all, the prophecy says so.”
She made that indelicate snorting sound, barely audible but there. A glimpse of the woman beneath the elaborate costumes. I began to suspect my Lia might have a very dry, very sharp sense of humor. Not a trace of it made it to her regal tone when she replied, but I heard it nonetheless. “I certainly hope so, Conrí. Otherwise we’ll tear each other’s throats out and save Anure the trouble.”
“Something to avoid,” I agreed. Then cleared my throat. “I’d like my people to attend.”
“Lady Sondra and Ambrose will of course attend you.”
“I mean on at least the ship that was in your harbor. How far away are they?”
A cagey smile curved her mouth. “Not far at all. I may have … prevaricated about where I sent your ship.”
I laughed, a hoarse bark of acknowledgment. “I’m glad we’re on the same side now.”
“Is that what we are?” She looked thoughtful. “I’ll arrange for your people to be notified.”
“Thank you, Lia.”
“Consider it a wedding gift,” she replied as she turned and left. Something made me think she laughed at some joke of her own.
27
“We’re starting over,” I declared after one glimpse of myself in the mirror. No wonder everyone kept staring at me, then trying to pretend they weren’t. “Take everything off, scrub Me down, and begin again.” It would take hours, but I had at least three. They couldn’t start the celebration until I arrived and Calla would likely thank me for every moment of delay.
“You heard Her Highness,” Tertulyn snapped, although Ibolya and Orvyki had already moved to lift away the crown. She took up her scissors and began the more expedient method of freeing me from my current—and exceedingly rumpled—gown by snipping the stitches and laces. The crown safely in its niche, the same pair of ladies removed my wig and I rubbed my fingers over my scalp in relief.
Glancing at the closed door, I hoped that Con would stick to the agreement and stay out there. How he’d react to my baldness I wasn’t sure, but I suspected he wouldn’t like it. I shouldn’t care. He was my husband for the rest of my life whether he found me attractive or not. Judging by the urgent erection he’d developed while kissing me, he’d have no trouble consummating the marriage, regardless of his feelings. Still, I kind of dreaded his reaction. When I’d complimented the Lady Sondra’s lovely hair, she’d told me that she’d spent most of her life in the mines with her head shorn—they all had—and she would never cut it again. She’d spoken the vow with such vicious certainty that I hadn’t doubted her.
Or that Con would feel the same way.
I’d never considered that I’d have an actual husband sharing the intimacies of daily life with me. He’d have to know the truth about my nature sooner or later. Hoping to delay that conversation as long as possible was likely futile. He’d discover soon enough just what kind of “other” he’d vowed to embrace. Perhaps I could delay that awhile longer.
“Ibolya,” I said, “do I have any wigs that can be shaped to hang long and loose, a more natural look and color? Something I can wear to bed.”
“I can check, Your Highness.” She curtsied and stepped away. Nahua took her place, dabbing the glue dissolver on my scalp and following it with a soothing salve. Orvyki asked me to close my eyes so she could loosen the lashes.
“I can’t believe You’re concerned about contriving natural-looking hair for him,” Tertulyn said, showing her ire in the way she jerked at the seams of the gown as she loosened it. With my eyes closed, I could hear the venom in her voice with clarity. Nahua and Orvyki remained studiously silent, not offering opinions as they might otherwise, demonstrating how deeply they felt the tension.
“Oh yes,” I replied tartly. It had been a long day in a series of long days, and wouldn’t end for some time to come. “It’s so odd for a woman to wish to start off her marriage on a pleasant footing. Ejarat teaches us to ignore what pleases our spouses, doesn’t She? Oh wait, no. No, She doesn’t.”
In front of me, Orvyki suppressed a giggle, barely audible. It made me feel better. Especially as I couldn’t take Tertulyn to task, not with others present. Not a native Calanthean, she wouldn’t be able to sense the marriage bond as the others did, whether they understood it with their thinking brains or only through their connection to Calanthe. This pivot would seem less believable and more shocking to all those like her. I needed to have patience and work to convince them more than anyone.
“Tertulyn.” Blindly I held out a hand to her and she took it, gripping it fiercely. “I’m married to Conrí. The sooner we all accept that truth, the easier it will be to adjust. I need you to lead the way, as you always have.”
“I’m just so worried,” she murmured fervently. “How under Sawehl did—”
“Your Highness?” Ibolya came into the room. “I’ve found two. One a white-blond and curling, and another raven black, very long.”
“I’ll need to see,” I answered. Which would Con prefer? Tertulyn had a point that he was stuck with me regardless. Still, that young, idealistic girl in me whispered of wanting him to find me pretty. And here I’d thought she’d been crushed long ago. Hopefully marriage to the brutal warrior wouldn’t wound her anew. I needed to be thick-skinned, tough, and resilient more than ever.
All the more so because Con and I had to present a front of solidarity if we all were to survive this.
A tug at my lashes. “There,” Orvyki breathed. “You can open Your eyes, but it will sting.” She pressed a damp cloth in my hands, and I dabbed at my eyes to remove the best part of the glue solvent. Tertulyn cut the laces of the corset, and the last of the undergarments fell away. I took a deep breath of
relief, feeling as if I hadn’t been able to since the wizard and two blood-spattered warriors burst through my doorway. Squinching my eyes open, I blinked away the tears to study the two choices Ibolya held up. I should go with the blond; I never wore black.
“Tertulyn, did you find a gown that will work?” Rarely did I do this entire routine twice in one day. It occurred to me that it would be best to choose one look for the rest of the evening rather than change yet again. Con would no doubt be willing to cut me out of my garments later, judging by his vehement interest in occupying my bed.
“There is nothing grand enough that You haven’t worn before.” Tertulyn was shaking her head. “If we had more time, maybe we could come up with something, but as it is…” She gave me a sorrowful look that didn’t quite mask her simmering anger. And … jealousy? She’d called it worry, but I wondered.
Ibolya cleared her throat, reminding me of Con when he searched for words. She still held both wigs aloft, one in each hand. When I gave her my attention, she threw an apologetic glance at Tertulyn. “There is the gown Percy brought You when he sought asylum. It’s suitably elegant—woven of pure gold—and unlike anything You’ve worn before.”
“That’s not the sort of garment anyone wears outside the Night Court,” Tertulyn snapped. “Her Highness has never worn it because it’s not appropriate for Her.”
“Not appropriate for the virgin queen of Calanthe,” I mused. “But it would declare my change in status. I’ve married the most notorious man in the empire, for better or worse. I might as well embrace that and meet it with My own brand of drama. Let’s do that gown, with the black wig.”
“It shows too much of You,” Tertulyn argued, sounding more desperate.
“I have a husband now. I won’t be able to hide Myself from him.”
“More than one marriage has been consummated in the dark.”
I shook my head. Ambrose had bound Con and I in the old way. Even if I kept secrets for a while, he’d find them out eventually—and any subterfuge on my part would only weaken the fragile trust between us. “I won’t be able to hide behind the virgin’s veil anymore. We’ll use makeup to slow the knowledge, but it will get out.”
The Orchid Throne Page 27
