by Vela Roth
“My lady?” All the force had gone out of Perita’s voice. She sounded more worried than she had in months.
Cassia was loath to put their hard-won friendship to the test. But perhaps the hour had come when the best way to keep trust was to show trust.
Cassia had helped Perita save the man she loved from execution, then given him a position so the two young lovers could wed. Thanks to Perita’s insight and persuasion, he had given Cassia the crucial information she needed to stop Dalos from assassinating everyone at the Summit. Perita and Callen would never know it, but they had saved Cassia’s lover in return.
Bonds like these were not so fragile. Cassia must be brave and let them take her weight.
She cleared her throat. “Would you be so kind as to open the door for me, Perita?”
As the door groaned and swung open, Perita peered in. She already wore her festival gown, which matched her blue eyes. Her light brown hair fell in shiny, perfectly-dressed waves from beneath her finest linen kerchief, where she proudly displayed the woven headband of a married woman.
Behind her stood Callen in a leather breastplate and ceremonial gold tabard. Perita’s husband looked ready to escort them to the Greeting or perhaps break down Cassia’s door. With his broad shoulders and lifetime of battle training, the sandy-haired warrior was equal to the task despite a bad leg that would never fully recover from his time in prison.
Perita didn’t rush in and begin fussing, as was her way. Her gaze darted from the smear of dried blood on Cassia’s collarbone and fixed on her hands. “My lady. What have you been doing?”
“I care for you too much to tell you. When the king asks, you must be able to say honestly that you do not know.”
Perita came and put her arms around Cassia.
Cassia stood frozen for an instant in surprise. It had been a long time since anyone had embraced her, and that had been seldom enough. Dangling her hands away from Perita’s gown, Cassia held her friend. She let her forehead rest on Perita’s shoulder.
In a moment, Perita drew back and patted Cassia’s shoulders. “Whatever it is, don’t you worry about it a moment longer, my lady. I’ll set you to rights. This is the first time His Majesty has ever let you go to the Greeting dance, and I won’t have anything ruin this day for you.”
This day was broken beyond repair, but Perita’s desire to mend it made Cassia feel as if she would make it till sundown.
“What would I do without you?” Cassia asked.
Perita ducked her head, but with an unabashed smile.
Callen waited a pace outside the bedchamber. “We’re glad to see you up and about, my lady. We were that worried when you didn’t answer the door.”
“I’m grateful for your concern, Callen,” Cassia thanked her bodyguard.
Perita took Cassia’s hands gently in hers, clicking her tongue in sympathy. “Your mage friends from the Temple of Kyria ought to see to these, my lady, if not the king’s healer.”
“Shall I send a messenger for a healer, my lady?” asked Callen.
“Whatever for? I have not injured my hands. Just as the late royal mage was a Tenebran named Amachos from the Temple of Anthros at Namenti.”
“Right you are, my lady.” Callen gave a short bow.
Perita nodded. “Your hands have never been better.”
Relief made Cassia want to sit down. “I shall wear gloves constantly for the foreseeable future only because the weather is turning cold, and this wing of the palace is drafty. In fact, if one of the king’s messengers happens to stop by in the next hour, we must make sure he finds no reason to be interested in my gloves.”
“Of course,” said Perita. “In the meantime, let’s see what we can do with your medicinal herbs and Grandmother’s methods.”
“You’ve taken your tincture this morning, haven’t you?” Cassia asked her. “I don’t want you to get sick from coming in here where Knight’s fur is everywhere.”
“I haven’t missed a dose. That new tonic from the Kyrian healers works wonders, and I don’t even feel sleepy. Look at me just a pace away from Sir Knight without any rashes or coughing.” She eyed the dog. “Not that you’re to get any ideas. Save your kisses for your lady and go to her for all your ear rubbing.”
“Do put on your apron. I don’t want you to ruin your dress. You look lovely.” Cassia smiled, happy for her friend’s good fortune in beauty and love.
“That she does, my lady.” Callen grinned like the besotted newlywed he was, but then his smile faltered. He shifted on his feet the way he did when he was leaning his weight on his good leg and trying not to show it.
“Do not regret you cannot dance with her today,” Cassia said. “Any man can dance with his wife, but which of them can say he has defended her as bravely as you have protected our Perita? You earned your right to stand still with her at your side, Callen.”
His only answer was a bow, but Cassia saw how his tension eased. Perita gave Callen a smile that promised they would have a private dance later.
She ushered Cassia out into the hearth room and sat her down by the fire. “I’ll get some clean rags from the dressing room.”
“Why don’t I heat the water?” Callen offered.
“See there,” Cassia said. “I am perfectly all right, for I am in such good hands.”
Promised
By the time the king’s messenger arrived, Cassia was clean, dressed and warm by the fire, with her softest wool gloves to conceal the bandages on her hands. She showed the messenger an expression of unflinching courtesy.
“His Majesty requires your presence in his solar, Lady Cassia.”
“I shall attend him right away,” she replied.
As soon as he was gone, Cassia turned down Perita and Callen’s concerned offers to accompany her and left her rooms with Knight. This path to meet the king was hers to walk and hers alone. Every step reminded her of the fear of him that had once ruled her life and why she no longer allowed that fear to have power over her.
As she made her way to the solar, this time through the visible portions of the palace, she remained alert to the man who tailed her. He was a runner, swift and observant, one of two she had grown accustomed to seeing every time she stepped out the door of her rooms. She had taken to wearing the ivy pendant beneath her clothes at all times so surreptitious detours were always available to her. Without the hidden passages to help her avoid the men the king assigned to follow her, she would have been in trouble.
An uncompromising voice inside her reminded her she could not afford to be anything other than honest with herself. She must always admit the truth before it proved her undoing.
The truth was, if the king thought she needed to be watched, she was already in trouble.
It had taken weeks after the events of the Summit for the king to loosen his stranglehold on Cassia’s activities. For her safety, he’d said, of course. He had moved her to new chambers conducive to her growing household, her new suitor, and house arrest.
While she kept her vigil unseen in his hearth, she had publicly resumed her old act. The expressionless, obedient spare daughter with no real interest in anything beyond the meals, the clothes and the four walls he allotted her.
At last the constant guard had lifted, and she had been permitted to resume her usual occupations. Visits with Lady Hadrian, exercising Knight on the grounds, taking her potted plants out for a sun. Although certainly not her erstwhile visits to the Temple of Kyria.
That the king’s scouts now dogged her heels instead of guards was proof enough. He had freed her to discover what she would do with that freedom. To put her act to the test.
He was watching her, just waiting for her to make a mistake. The day that happened would be the day she joined her sister.
She must not let that happen. She must live long enough to see her plan through.
She did not quiver, break a sweat, or clench her hands when she walked through the door into the solar and found herself alone with the king. She sw
ept Lucis a deep courtesy, lowering herself before him. But not to her knees.
That was her promise to herself. Beneath the concealment of her skirts, her knees would never touch the floor in that man’s presence. Every time she rose to her feet, she silently dared him to call her what she was. A traitor.
The king announced, “Today Lord Flavian will ask you to dance the Autumn Greeting with him.”
“Yes, he will, Your Majesty.”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “He made his intentions known to you?”
“No, Your Majesty. They were apparent.”
“Do not flatter yourself. See to it his courtship does not give you an exaggerated perception of his regard for you. Be grateful for the notice of a lord so far above you and do not forget. He has no interest in you. Only in what you are to me.”
She kept her head bowed, watching the king from beneath her lashes. “I assure you I appreciate the true motivations for his attentions, Your Majesty.”
“Prepare yourself. It will require constant attention on your part to keep him and a lifetime of effort for you to come close to being worthy of him.”
Strategy. She must stand back and envision her long-term strategy. Not become mired in the moments…so many moments she must spend wearing a smile for Flavian. “I shall be most diligent in my efforts, Your Majesty.”
“Do not shame me at the Greeting dance today. No such opportunity will ever be within your reach again.”
“I understand what this means, Your Majesty.”
“Do you?”
She met the king’s gaze. Did he?
“I take it you wish me to accept him, Majesty.”
“No.”
Cassia raised a brow.
“How has it entered your head that you are to accept anything?” the king said quietly. “You were promised to Flavian at dawn when I spoke with his father. You will dance with him.”
“Yes I will, Your Majesty.”
“I do not need to spell out for you what an unprecedented condescension it is for the king to allow a female of your status to play the role of Kyria in Tenebra’s most sacred festival. Your relation to me and your honorable partner will ensure your presence in the ritual is not a total insult to tradition. You will never be a real lady, but I expect you to behave like one.”
“I know how to be a lady, Your Majesty.”
He gestured two fingers at Knight. “Your liegehound will be in the way. He will spend the duration of the ritual in the royal kennels.”
At first she thought she had misheard the sudden declaration. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”
“Do not make me repeat myself. You can hardly perform the Greeting with a large dog underfoot.”
Cassia always picked her battles with the king with the utmost care. She did not even think before choosing this one. “His behavior is exemplary, Your Majesty. He will be in no one’s way if I instruct him to remain in a sit-stay on the edge of the gathering.”
“The attendees must already tolerate a bastard in the procession. I will not have an unsightly dog take part as well.”
“You provided him to me for my safety. There are many risks in a crowd, and Callen will not be able to remain near me. Would you have me do without Knight as a bodyguard?”
“My visitors today are war mages from Cordium. There is no better protection. If you ask me to explain my decision again, the only bodyguard you will have are my own men-at-arms at your door.”
Those very guards opened the door of the king’s solar to let in the kennel master. Cassia whipped her head around and looked at him. The man who had first put Knight in her arms as a pup did not even meet her gaze. He shuffled to Knight’s side with a harness and a leash.
Knight would never consent to imprisonment in the kennels, except at Cassia’s command. And yet the king would see to it his command was obeyed, one way or the other.
The outrage she cultivated every time she stood in this room now gave back to her, nursing her resolve in return. Whatever happened today, she must make sure Knight was not caught in the magefire between her and the king. She would not allow Knight to suffer. She could not lose him.
Even if it meant violating their bond, which cleaved him to her till death. All he knew was protecting her. He wouldn’t understand. She had no way to explain she was trying to protect him.
She unclenched her teeth so she could speak. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will go with the kennel master and see Knight settled for the day.”
Whatever the king had in store for her today, she would have to face it alone.
Fit for a Queen
Cassia would never forget what she beheld in Knight’s eyes as she departed the kennels. All the way back through the palace, the image of him watching her leave haunted her. From behind the locked gate of his run, he had looked at her with bewilderment.
She had hoped the one night her hound had spent apart from her before would prepare him for this. She had been wrong. That night, he had watched her leave his side under Lio’s protection. Today, Knight had watched her abandon him.
Cassia came to a standstill in her hearth room and fought down the quivering mix of emotion inside her. Where was everyone? Callen must have gone next door to his and Perita’s rooms, which served as newlywed nest, guardroom, and servants’ quarters for Cassia’s tiny household. She ventured through her bedroom to her dressing room to find Perita.
Cassia balked in the doorway and waited to see if she was going to be sick.
Perita and the royal seamstress hovered over the largest clothing chest that had ever crossed Cassia’s threshold. They had brushes, ribbons and worst of all, bottles of scent oils at the ready.
“My lady,” Perita cooed. “Look what His Majesty has sent for you! An entire chest of gowns, and see how fine!”
“Oh, aye,” said the seamstress with a cackle of laughter. “He’s had me mending and trimming for weeks. I’ve taken in every scrap in this chest to fit you, Lady Cassia. It was that hard for me not to let on.”
Cassia stalled. “Mistress Riga. How lovely to see you again. How is your son?”
A smile transformed the old woman’s haggard face. She always lit up when she had the chance to speak openly of her son born out of wedlock, knowing Cassia and Perita would not censure her. “How kind of you to ask, my lady. I’m fair bursting with pride. He’s doing right well in the position you got him in Lord Hadrian’s household. He says he won’t be surprised if he’s not a house messenger much longer, but a rider carrying battle orders between his lordship’s forces.”
“Please offer my congratulations to him.”
“Thank you very much indeed, my lady. I can’t tell you how grateful we are for all you’ve done.”
“It was the least I could do. Folk like us have to look out for each other, after all.”
The seamstress gave a speaking nod. “If there’s anything I can do for you, you have but to ask.”
“Well, I can’t resist asking, how is my red dress coming along?”
“I’ll finish it for you yet, my lady, and make no mistake. I had to put it off to ready your festival gowns, king’s orders, but now I can give it my full attention.”
“I can hardly wait to see it. I know it will be a masterpiece.”
Cassia fished for anything else to say, but her stock of honesties and even niceties was running out. Perita was taking her arm and ushering her into the dressing room.
It was time.
Time for Cassia to sit helpless on a dressing stool and be bound and gagged for her presentation to Anthros.
“My lady?” Perita asked. “Are you feeling well?”
Cassia swallowed hard. “I’m trying to.”
For an instant, Perita’s gaze darted to Cassia’s gloved hands, then she pressed a hand to Cassia’s forehead. “What could be the matter?”
The seamstress pursed her lips, studying Cassia. “I dare say she’s thinking of her sister.”
“Oh, my lady. I didn’t think. I�
�m so sorry.”
The seamstress’s gaze softened. “Aye, you would have been too young to remember, Perita. But I remember like it was yesterday. Not an Autumn Greeting comes and goes that we don’t think of Her Highness and how this day brought her to grief. But see here, Lady Cassia, you mustn’t let that sadness spoil your happiness.”
“My lady…” With a hopeful smile, Perita cast the chest a significant look. “Am I right in thinking you have a very particular reason to be happy today? Isn’t that what this means—the king’s summons and the new gowns? Someone’s going to ask for your hand in the dance today, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Cassia said.
Perita beamed. “And your father said yes?”
Cassia nodded.
“Oh, my lady!” Perita embraced her again, all but bouncing on her heels.
The seamstress chuckled. “That’s reason enough for Lady Cassia to look as if she swallowed my pincushion. It’s only natural to suffer a case of Greeting nerves. Well, well, by the time we’ve worked our magic on you, dove, you’ll feel so confident in yourself you’ll sail into the dance like a swan.”
With a flourish, the seamstress threw back the lid of the chest. She drew out the first dress with loving fingers. At the sight of ivory velvet and cobalt embroidery, Cassia’s mind went blank. As the seamstress held up a diamond-patterned gown of sapphire and sky blue, Cassia’s numbness gave way to a sweat.
One by one, the seamstress unfolded the gowns and laid them all out until the dressing room was covered in them. White lace here and yellow ribbons there and a violet sleeve that had once been part of a skirt Cassia had clung to.
The fragments of Solia’s entire wardrobe surrounded Cassia.
