“My cloak — ” I began feebly, but the duke raised a hand.
“You have no need of it. The night is fine enough, and there are furs in the carriage. Come now.”
He extended a gloved hand. What could I do but take it? I feared I would not be able to do as he asked, that my trembling legs would betray me, but instead I walked serenely enough from my house to the waiting carriage, although I could not prevent myself from casting a quick glance back at my sister, who looked on in mute worry from her perch on the staircase.
A footman stood by the door to the coach and helped me inside. A moment later, the duke followed, and the footman closed the door behind us.
The interior of the coach smelled of fine leather and the faintest traces of something spicy and aromatic. Snuff, or perhaps the pomade in the duke’s hair. Whatever it was, I found it pleasant enough, although its perfume was not sufficient to calm me.
I grasped the edge of the tufted leather seat, hoping that clutching it might still some of the trembling in my fingers. “My — my lord, may I ask what this is about?”
It came to me immediately afterward that I should have called him “Your Grace,” as that was the proper form of address for one who possessed his title. But perhaps I could be forgiven for not having all my wits about me.
A flash of his teeth in the darkness. “You may ask.”
He said nothing after that, though, and I realized he was toying with me, just a little.
Beneath my worry, anger flared, but I pushed it aside as best I could. It would never do for me to lose my temper around a man such as he. I did not pay much attention to the doings of those at court, for their antics and amusements certainly did little enough to affect me, but I knew enough to recall that Lord Edmar was one of the greatest men in the realm, second only to the king and his son, Prince Harlin.
“Am I — am I in some kind of trouble?” As the question left my lips, I realized how foolish it was. Even if I had transgressed in some way…which I most certainly had not…the constable for our district would have been the one knocking on the door, not a man as important as the Duke of Lerneshall.
“‘Trouble’?” the duke repeated. Another of those smiles. “I suppose that will depend on you.”
Oh, so now he was talking even more in riddles. I resolved not to ask any further questions, for it seemed clear that Lord Edmar had little inclination to enlighten me, or in fact to do anything to ease the worry that had become an ever-tightening band around my throat.
Surprisingly, the duke spoke again. “He was telling the truth about one thing. You are a very beautiful young woman, Annora Kelsden.”
My first impulse was to inquire how he could he even see me well enough to make such a statement, considering how dim it was within the confines of the carriage. But then I wondered who this “he” Lord Edmar had spoken of could even be.
After an awkward pause, I said, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
A chuckle, warm and sounding a bit too intimate. “You are most welcome. But I am remiss. Are you chilled? Would you like one of these furs for your lap?”
I squinted into the darkness and was just able to make out a pile of something soft on the seat next to him. “No, thank you, Your Grace. I am quite comfortable.” Well, comfortable with the temperature, at least. Even though we were almost to Octevre, and should have been experiencing our first frosts, we had just come through a spell of unusually mild weather, and the night air was not that cold at all.
“If you are certain….” The duke appeared to shrug, then pushed the furs away from him and into a corner. “It would not do for you to take a chill.”
Whence this solicitude had come from, I couldn’t begin to guess. Truthfully, I was having a good deal of trouble attempting to discern his mood at all. Perhaps it was only that I had no experience of great men, of their humors, but he had first seemed quite ominous, and now had changed his tack and was worrying over my comfort. And as for that comment about my looks, I had to confess to myself that I was not sure how to view that at all.
“I am certain, Your Grace. But thank you.”
He seemed to take my reply at face value, and said no more. Somehow, though, I could sense his gaze on me in the darkness. Color flooded my cheeks, although I doubted he could see my flush, as the dim lighting would have only allowed him to pick out the contours of my features.
The carriage seemed to tilt slightly as we hurried on through the night. It felt as if we were traveling uphill. And if that were the case, then our destination must be somewhere in the grander districts that clustered around the king’s palace at the heart of Bodenskell.
My heart sank somewhat at that realization, for terrible thoughts had begun to race through my mind. Perhaps Lord Edmar had attended the party thrown by Baron Levender as well…and perhaps my father had lost so badly that he had nothing to offer the great man save his own daughter. That might explain the comment the duke had made earlier about my beauty….
I swallowed, and turned to glance out the window. The lampposts were set more closely together here, providing enough light for me to see that we had left the more modest houses and shops of my own district behind, and that to either side were tall structures of three or even four stories, with fanciful edgings of carved stone. Yes, this did seem like the sort of place where a duke might keep his town house, even if he still had a great estate out in the countryside.
Despite my resolution to not ask any more questions, I couldn’t prevent myself from inquiring, “Forgive me for asking, Your Grace, but where is it that we are going?”
He, too, had kept watch out the window, only the one opposite me. Shifting away from it, he replied, “Why, to the palace. The king would have discourse with you.”
In that instant, I could feel my heart sink to the very soles of my slippers. Why on earth would the king want to speak to someone as lowly as I? Bad enough that I now faced a duke, but the king himself?
My thoughts then grew quite chaotic. The first thing that passed through my mind was gratitude that at least I had changed out of the dreadful gown I had worn to beat the rugs, but the one I wore now, while far newer, was certainly nothing suitable for meeting the king. But oh, what did that matter? Nothing I owned was fit for such an audience, not even the gowns I had embellished with fine embroidery. We could not afford threads of silver and gold and copper, but only humble silks. And I had been quite haphazard in putting my hair back up, as I had only done so to mollify my father, in case he should catch a glimpse of me, and not because I was concerned with the appearance of the end result.
Somehow I managed to draw in a breath. “The king, Your Grace? What — ”
“It is not my place to speak of what the king wishes to say to you. In a few minutes, you will find out for yourself.”
This last was delivered in such forbidding tones that I quite lost the will to make any further inquiries. Whatever warmth had been in his tone earlier, it seemed that now Lord Edmar was becoming rather weary of me.
It was in an uncomfortable silence that the carriage drew up to the palace walls. The gate stood open, so apparently they were expecting us. Or perhaps it was always open; I did not know the protocols for such things, as I had never been this close to the palace before. The horses’ hooves clattered on stone as we entered a large courtyard. Here all was lit by torchlight; I could see grooms hurrying forward to attend to the horses, and a footman in very grand livery opened the door for us.
The duke got out first, then paused by the step and offered his hand. I could do nothing but take it, since refusing his help would have been the height of rudeness. His gloved fingers grasped me tightly as he assisted me out of the carriage, and his hand lingered on mine for longer than was necessary once I reached solid ground.
Bending low, he said in an undertone, “No matter what happens next, I think it has been a very great pleasure meeting you, Annora. If you make your way through all this, I believe I would like to extend our acquaintance.”
I dipped a little curtsey, managing to pull my hand from his at the same time. “I look forward to that, Your Grace.”
He smiled, but there was a certain tightness to his expression that seemed to indicate he’d detected my distaste. To my relief, however, he appeared to let the matter go, and instead pointed toward an arched doorway off to one side. “If you will come with me.”
When I was very little, I used to take twigs from the oak trees that bordered our property and put them in the fast-running water in my street’s gutters following a heavy rainstorm. I felt rather like one of those twigs now, caught up in currents I couldn’t control and didn’t understand. All I could do was follow the duke as he led me into the castle. A pair of guards fell in behind us, and I startled. And what was their purpose? To make sure I didn’t bolt?
Where could I even go? The events of the past half-hour had shown me that my home was certainly no sanctuary.
At first the corridors around me were of unadorned stone, probably because of their proximity to the courtyard. Quite soon, however, the hallway we traversed widened, and was hung with tapestries in rich hues, showing hunting scenes and landscapes. The work was quite fine, and I wished I could have come here under different circumstances so I could examine them up close.
The duke, however, did not seem as if he would have allowed such dawdling. He walked along briskly, and I had to lengthen my strides to keep up with him. So there was no time to inspect the tapestries, or take anything more than the most cursory glance at the runner beneath my feet or the statues of chiseled marble that had been placed along the corridor at regular intervals. Perhaps it was foolish for me to even be concerned with such things, but I doubted I would ever get to see the palace again. Besides, thinking of such trivialities helped to keep my mind away from the far more important topic of why I was here at all.
After several minutes, we mounted a low, wide staircase and came to a set of enormous carved oak doors. They stood open, with no fewer than ten men standing guard on either side. The room beyond was lit by a series of great wrought-iron chandeliers studded with a myriad of candles, which cast a warm light and the scent of beeswax into the chamber.
We entered. That is, the duke strode in, with me a pace or two behind. Ahead of us was a dais, and on that dais sat a man in a throne of carved oak studded with cabochons of gems — garnet and amber and onyx. He was some years older than my father, and wore a simple crown of heavy gold set with an enormous emerald in the center.
My steps faltered somewhat — was I supposed to curtsey now? — but Lord Edmar said under his breath, “Keep going until you reach the bottom of the dais,” and so I propelled myself forward, only stopping when I reached the correct spot. Then I did curtsey, so deeply that I feared I might lose my balance. Somehow, though, I managed to keep myself from falling over.
As I began to straighten, I heard the duke say, “Your Majesty, this is the girl the merchant spoke of.”
“The merchant”? He could only have meant one person by that, surely. And yes, as I resumed a more or less normal stance, I spied my father out of the corner of my eye. He stood off to one side, flanked by a pair of guards. His expression was one of mingled terror and shame. At least, that was how it appeared to me, although I had never seen my father display either of those emotions before. Seeing him so cowed, I felt a chill begin to trace its way down my spine, although I did my best to look meek and humble.
Then the king rose from his throne, and I immediately looked back toward him. His eyes were pale blue, shrewd, as he descended the steps of the dais and approached me. He was not quite of a height with Lord Edmar, but the crown made up some of the difference. For a long moment, he said nothing, and only continued his inspection of my person, from my untidy hair to the scuffed slippers on my feet.
Again I could feel blood rise to my cheeks, but I did my best to keep my chin up, even though I knew I could never look my monarch directly in the face. Was that even allowed? My mother had taught me how to address the various members of the peerage, had shown me how to make a fairly passable curtsey, but of course she could never have guessed in any of her wildest dreams that I might one day have an audience with the king.
“So this is the wondrous Annora Kelsden,” he said at last, addressing the duke. “I will confess that I was expecting something more, although I suppose she might do well enough if she were cleaned up a bit.”
My mind was too busy dissecting his use of the word “wondrous” to take offense at anything else he had just said. All I could do was remain standing there, my gaze carefully focused off somewhere beyond him. For some reason it settled on the throne, taking in the artful carvings of oak leaves and vines, the carefully placed cabochon stones, some of them so large I didn’t know whether they would have even fit in the palm of my hand.
The duke only inclined his head. That seemed to be all the reply the king desired, for he turned back toward me and said, “We have the spinning wheel ready for you. There is no natural light at this time of day, of course, but just beyond is a chamber that we have filled with many candlesticks. I assume that will be sufficient?”
For the longest moment, I could do nothing but stare at him, at the thinning chestnut hair the crown couldn’t quite conceal, the heavy lines bracketing his mouth. I understood the individual words he had spoken, but combined, they made no sense. Spinning wheel? What manner of nonsense was this?
Of course I could not ask such a thing of the man who ruled my land. I cleared my throat and somehow managed to force out a reply. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty, but I am not quite sure I understand. You wish me to spin some thread for you?”
That innocent question seemed to provide a good deal of amusement for King Elsdon and Lord Edmar, as they both began to chuckle. A glint entered the king’s eyes, and he said, “Yes, we would like that very much. If you don’t mind, of course.”
“No, Your Majesty, I don’t mind,” I returned in some confusion.
“Excellent. Edmar, if you would show her the way?”
The duke gestured off to our left. I followed his pointing finger and saw that a door stood open at the far side of the throne room, revealing a smaller chamber ablaze with light. I began to move in that direction, and then I heard my father’s strangled tones.
“Your Majesty — if I may have a moment to speak with my daughter — ”
“You will speak to her afterward, and not before,” the king broke in. His brows drew together, and he glanced over at me. “Continue, Annora. You see there the chamber I spoke of?”
I nodded.
“Then go with Lord Edmar.”
There was nothing I could do except walk toward the room he had indicated, the duke a few paces ahead of me. I did not quite see the reason for his doing so, since my destination seemed clear enough. But I went where I was directed, and did not dare to look back toward my father. Something very strange was going on here, although I could not begin to guess what it might be.
Entering the chamber, I saw that it was quite empty, save for a spinning wheel of polished walnut, far grander than the one back at my house, and a series of candelabras sitting on carved wooden shelves on the walls. The light they cast was, as the king had said, quite brilliant, and I blinked at the sudden glare.
Next to the spinning wheel sat a chair, also of polished walnut, and on the stone floor immediately next to it was a pile of straw. I stared at it, puzzled, wondering what on earth that untidy mess was doing in such an otherwise spotless room.
Brow puckered, I turned back to the duke, who had stopped just inside the doorway. “I fear I do not understand.”
In this light, I could see
that his eyes were a clear grey. They crinkled a bit at the corners as he gave me an indulgent smile. “What is there to understand, Annora? There is the spinning wheel.”
“But where is the wool? I see only a pile of straw.”
The smile didn’t fade. Indeed, it broadened, to the point where it caused a faint little chill to run down my back. “That is what you must spin.”
“Spin…the straw?” Once again, I had that feeling of nothing in the world making sense, of words being put together in incomprehensible strings of syllables.
“Yes.” The duke crossed his arms and gave me a piercing look. “That is what your father swore you could do.”
I began to understand then why my father looked so guilty, so frightened. Deep in his cups, he had probably made some outlandish boast. Only this time, it appeared as if that tall tale must have involved me somehow.
Contradicting one of the greatest men in the land was not something that appealed to me, but I knew I must make some protest in my defense. Speaking carefully, I said, “Your Grace, I fear there has been some sort of misunderstanding. I don’t know what my father said, but — ”
“He said you were so gifted in weavecraft that you could spin straw into gold. Is this not true?”
Suddenly it seemed as if there was not enough air to breathe, as if all the candles in the room had drawn it away to fuel their flames. I wished I could put a hand out to one of the walls to steady myself, but I stood in almost the very center of the chamber, and the promise of their support was too far away.
Was there any way to escape this nightmare? Most likely not, but I had to try.
I clasped my hands together, and prayed that I looked properly meek and beseeching. “Your Grace, it shames me to say such a thing, but when my father has drunk more than he should, he can sometimes say things that are — well, that are perhaps exaggerations.”
The smile disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. “Do you mean to say that he lied?”
Threads of Gold (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Page 4
