Threads of Gold (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6)

by Christine Pope

  The mental image of him doing any of those things was so ridiculous that I had to smile. “No, it would not, Lord Edmar, for I know the truth in your heart. I have no doubt that you will find your duchess soon enough, but she will not be me.”

  He smiled in return, but I saw that the expression did not reach his eyes. Perhaps he was not angry any longer. That did not mean he was still not dangerous.

  “The king will not be happy to hear of this,” the duke said, the warning clear behind his words.

  “I doubt he will, but as it seems to me that he has not been happy about much of anything for a good span of time, this particular piece of news should not materially change his disposition.”

  Lord Edmar shook his head, as if deciding that he was quite done with me. Indeed, he bowed and said, “Then I will take my leave of you, Annora. I cannot say I precisely wish you luck, for I will not be at cross-purposes with His Majesty. But I do hope that this decision of yours will not cause you any unforeseen trouble.”

  “I thank you for that, Your Grace,” I replied. “As always, I must hope for the best.”

  For a second or two, he said nothing. Then his shoulders lifted. “I fear that if I were you, I would prepare for the worst.”

  * * *

  No immediate doom seemed to befall me, however. The duke made his farewells and left, and some time after that Rashelle returned, bearing a tray with my lunch. If the king had decided to punish me for my intransigence, at least he did not intend to do so by starving me.

  Despite that, I spent a long, weary afternoon, worrying the whole time whether I would be summoned to His Majesty’s presence to explain myself. Or perhaps he would come rushing in as he had before so that he might upbraid me in person.

  Neither of those things happened, however. I embroidered, read a little, went to the window and watched people moving about in the gardens below. Now they wore cloaks against the brisk wind, for the sunny conditions of a few days earlier had been replaced by banks of lowering clouds. Rain seemed to be imminent, although I would have no chance to feel it or smell it on the grass and the fallen leaves, not here in the shelter of my tower prison.

  Although I could have sworn there had been none when I first came to my suite, I also found paper, pen, and ink in one of the drawers of the desk in the study. Had Tobyn left it there for me, knowing that I fretted about my sister? It seemed the sort of thoughtful gesture he might make.

  Thus gifted with the means of doing so, I sat down to write a letter to Iselda. True, I had asked Master Jamsden to pass word along to her that I was well and unharmed, but I thought it might be better if I wrote her directly. I could hide the note until night fell and Tobyn came to help me spin the king’s unending skeins of golden thread. Then I would give the letter to my benefactor, and he could make sure that it came safely to my sister.

  At first I was not sure how much I should tell her, but the two of us had always been honest with one another. It was one way of fighting back against our father’s continual misrepresentations as to his activities, or the actual state of the household budgets. We could not control what he did, but we could make very sure that we did not do the same thing to one another.

  So I explained how Father’s boasting had brought the king’s attention upon me, and how I must stay here to do his bidding. I told her of how Lord Edmar wished to marry me, so that I might remain safely under their control, but that I had a counselor who would be fighting for me before the High Court, and that I hoped he would prevail so I might be sent home very soon.

  The one thing I did not mention was the assistance Tobyn had given me. Nor did I say anything about his powers. The letter should be safe enough, since I would be handing it directly to him, and he would get it to my sister somehow from there, but I did not wish to take even the slightest chance of revealing the powers he had worked so hard to hide. If his mage blood should be discovered because of anything I had said or done, I knew I would never forgive myself.

  Supper came and went, and eventually Rashelle retired to the servants’ hall after braiding my hair for the night and banking the fire down low. I went to the study and sat at the spinning wheel, impatient and wishing for Tobyn to appear. It was not that he was particularly late, but the day had felt overlong already, and I wanted nothing then except the comfort of his presence.

  Eventually, he did come, seeming to step forth from the shadows in the room. I had been half-dozing, eyelids heavy with weariness, but as soon as he moved toward me, I startled awake and rose to my feet.

  He was the first to speak. “It seems you have done somewhat to annoy His Grace.”

  I could hear the slight lilt in his voice, and so I knew Tobyn was pleased, no matter how Lord Edmar himself might be feeling about my refusal. “Did you think I would do anything else?”

  “No,” he replied. “That is, I had no reason not to believe you when you said you did not wish to be a duchess. But I doubt there are many who would have faulted you for changing your mind, when confronted by the reality of such an offer.”

  “Once my mind is made up, I rarely change it,” I said. “At any rate, even if I had not already been set on my decision, Lord Edmar’s remark about marriage having nothing to do with love most certainly would have prevented me from ever contemplating such a union.”

  Tobyn had paused on the other side of the spinning wheel, as he often did. My revelation made him tilt his head toward me, as if in surprise. “And you believe it does?”

  “Of course,” I said stoutly, even though my own parents’ example left something wanting when it came to the notion of marriage as a union of true souls. Perhaps I had read too many of my sister Iselda’s chapter-books. Then, as Tobyn seemed disinclined to reply, I added, “Did your parents not love one another?”

  “No, I believe they loved each other very much. But some would say they were the exception rather than the rule.”

  His voice was carefully neutral, and I thought perhaps I had carried the conversation into regions that were uncomfortable for him. It was too late to turn back, however. Besides, I would be lying to myself if I did not admit some curiosity as to Master Slade’s own views on the subject of love. Did he think it a foolish construct, the way Lord Edmar seemed to, or had he merely cut himself off from affection and desire because he had decided he was now too scarred, too unworthy, to ever have it offered to him?

  “I am not so sure of that,” I said slowly. “True, I did not have much of a good example in my own household, but I blame my father’s faults for that. On the other hand, I have had the opportunity to observe the other families on my street, and they seem to be quite affectionate households. Why, Master and Mistress Marisdon have eight children.”

  “I suppose that would be evidence of a good deal of affection,” Tobyn replied dryly, and hot blood rushed to my cheeks. No, I did not have any great knowledge of the particulars of becoming with child, but I knew the act required a good deal more intimacy than merely a kiss.

  “At any rate,” I went on, attempting to keep my tone steady, “I would certainly not marry someone whose only reason for doing so was to keep me safely at hand for the king’s pleasure.”

  “No, I suppose you would not.” He put his hand on the spinning wheel and gave it a gentle turn so that it began to revolve slowly. “You seem to be a woman of rare and passionate spirit, Annora Kelsden.”

  His praise only made me flush that much more. At the same time, I felt a stirring of hope. Surely he would not say such things to me if he did not wish to continue what we had begun the night before. Only the most tentative of steps, true, but all journeys must begin somewhere.

  And so I came around the spinning wheel to stand next to him. Not too close, but enough that once again I could smell the sweet herbal scent which arose from his garments. I hoped that perhaps he would also note the rosewater lotion Rashelle had given me to put on my face and hands, and might find it pleasing.

  Before I lost my nerve, I reached out and took his han
d. He startled, but then he seemed to relax, and even to wrap his fingers around mine. Once again I was surprised by his warmth…and by the way that warmth seemed to find its echo deep within me, awaking a longing I did not completely understand.

  “Last night,” I began, but he shook his head.

  “Annora, that was….” The words trailed off, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next.

  I could guess, however. “Was what? A mistake? A moment of weakness?”

  “Yes, both those things.”

  “All we did was touch our hands together. As we are doing now. What is wrong with that?”

  A sigh came from deep within the hood. “You say that because, whatever you might be thinking, this is nothing more than misplaced gratitude.”

  “Indeed?” I returned. “Do you truly think me such a fool that I would immediately bestow my affections on whoever came to my aid? If Master Jamsden succeeds with the High Court tomorrow, does that mean I will fling my arms around his neck and kiss him, and proclaim my undying love for him?”

  “No, of course not.” The words sounded strangled, as if Tobyn had had to force them out. “You know I do not think you any kind of fool. But — ”

  “But what? If I do not know my own heart, then who else can know it? Yes, our acquaintance has been short, but I have never met anyone like you, Master Slade. I know what I feel. And perhaps” — I hesitated, but as I had already unburdened so much of myself, I did not see the point in holding back now — “perhaps you feel something the same, or else you would not be praising my ‘rare spirit.’”

  “Even if I did, this would be impossible. All I can do is see you safely returned to your father’s household.”

  “‘Impossible’?” I flung back at him, then stopped myself. My tone had begun to rise, and although the study was safely ensconced between other chambers in my suite and did not share any walls with the apartments to either side, I did not think it wise to be quite so strident. Lowering my voice, I continued, “I would like to know why you think ‘this’ is impossible. Are you already wed, or promised to someone else?”

  “Of course not,” he said. The words came out as barely more than a harshly rasped whisper. “I have no one.”

  “Well, then,” I returned, as if that should take care of everything.

  He crossed his arms. “You say that very blithely, Annora. But, even setting aside the matter of only knowing one another for a few days, you must understand that a man such as I does not have the…liberty…to bestow his heart wherever he chooses.”

  “A man such as you? Do you mean because you are mage-born, or because you believe the pox has rendered you unfit for female companionship?”

  “Both,” he replied, in that same strangled tone.

  “And if both those obstacles were removed?” I asked. I held on to him tightly, so that he would have to tear his hands from my grasp to get away. “What would your heart tell you then?”

  “That is immaterial, because my mage blood and — and my disfigurement — are part of who I am. I cannot change them.”

  “I am not asking you to change them!” I cried, forgetting my vow of a few moments earlier to keep my voice down. “I am only asking you to tell me whether you care anything at all for me.”

  Of course he did not respond. His hands lay still in my grasp. He would not try to get away, but neither would he show me any encouragement by twining his fingers around mine. Oh, I wished I had the courage to push him away, to show him what I thought of his intransigence, but somehow I knew that I must not. I must continue to cling to him, to show him that I could be quite as stubborn as he.

  “Tell me, Tobyn,” I whispered. “For if you do not, then I will not press you further. I can only beg you not to lie to me.”

  At last his hands did move, clutching mine, pulling me closer to him. “Of course I care. What man with a beating heart would not? You are brave and strong and beautiful, and you should be a duchess, or something much grander than a woman shackled to a man who dares not even show his face in public.”

  Those words made my heart sing. Or perhaps it was simply his delicious nearness, the way only an inch or so separated our bodies. And there I was, clad only in a chemise and dressing gown, no heavy court dress and boned undergarments acting as armor between us. Again one of those delicious warm thrills moved over me. I could not say exactly what it was, only that I wanted him to pull me even closer, to feel his arms around me, his hands on me….

  I let out a little gasp, knowing I must not allow my mind to continue down those paths. Not here. Not yet. “But I do not wish to be a duchess, Tobyn. I’ve already told you that. As for the rest….” I paused, thoughts racing furiously. It seemed clear enough to me that he did care, but only held back because of his own perceived defects. Since I cared little for those, why not remove any other impediments to our being together? “Purth is harsh to those who have magical blood, but it is not that way in all lands. Master Jamsden told me of how magic is allowed in North Eredor, of how the consort of the Mark herself is mage-born. Why could we not go there?”

  “You would do that? Leave your family, the only land you have ever known?”

  Put that way, the prospect did sound rather daunting. But was that not always the woman’s lot, to go where her man took her? If I had accepted Cordell’s proposal, I would have remained in Purth, but I might have been living several days’ ride from Bodenskell, or even farther off. Chances were that I would not have seen my family that often. “For you, I would,” I said stoutly.

  “You don’t know what you are saying, Annora — ”

  “Perhaps I do not. Or perhaps I know it here,”— and I let go of one of his hands so I could touch my finger to my chest — “even if my mind would agree that I am not being at all logical.”

  “No, you are not being logical. But then, neither am I. Else I would never have allowed you to take my hand last night, or indeed this evening, either.”

  Something in his tone sounded almost sad, as if he were troubled by what he perceived as his own weakness. I almost reached for his hand again, but then decided I had something better in mind.

  Moving quickly so I could not stop myself, I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head against his chest. For one startled second, he went completely still, as if attempting to decide what he should do next. But then his arms closed on my waist, pulling me more tightly against him. The wool of his cloak settled around us both, enclosing us in a cocoon of sweet-smelling warmth. Never before had I felt so safe, so sheltered.

  So loved.

  For he must love me as well, or else he would not have held me thus, would have found a way to maintain some distance between us. I lifted my face toward his, but within the shadow of his hood, I could see nothing at all.

  That did not matter, it seemed, for he bent to me as well, and somewhere in the space between us, our mouths met, coming together so perfectly that their joining must have been inevitable. True, I could feel something in the shape of his lips that told me the scarring had touched them as well, but in that moment I did not care. This was what a kiss should be, an awakening of the fire within one’s soul, bringing to life desire that had only slept until that moment.

  My mouth parted, and I could taste him then, a lingering sweetness, possibly from some wine he had drunk with dinner before coming to see me. It did not matter, for I had not known a kiss could progress into this, a touch so intimate that it seemed as if we must learn everything of one another in that moment.

  I clung to him, for how long, I could not say. Eventually, he pulled away from me, shaking his head.

  “I should not have done that.”

  “Why not?” I retorted. “It seemed as if you very much wanted to. And I wanted you to as well.”

  “You have placed your trust in me — you are vulnerable — ”

  Such talk needed to stop. It seemed the easiest way to accomplish that was to go up on my tiptoes and kiss him again, the pressure of my mouth ending such fool
ish arguments.

  “I am not vulnerable,” I told him, once I thought he had been sufficiently quelled so I might speak without argument. “I believe I know very much what I want. And that happens to be you.”

  A muffled sound arose in his throat, half-groan, half-sigh. “Ah, Annora, you think that, but how can you know for sure? You have never even seen me.”

  True, I had not. However, I had touched his lips, felt the scarring there, and, for whatever reason, it had not bothered me at all. “No,” I replied. “But I have heard your voice, and felt your arms around me, and tasted your kiss. All of these seem far more important to me than what you look like.”

  “You say that, and yet I fear you do not understand what the pox did to me. I am not…like other men.”

  “Then let me see,” I said boldly. “That way I may prove to you that I care little for what that wretched disease might have done to scar your face.”

  He went still and silent then, and finally shook his head. “Not yet. Not because of how I think you will react,” he added quickly, as I opened my mouth to protest, “but because I would like to live this pleasant lie for now, the one where you do not believe it can possibly be as bad as I have intimated.”

  “My knowing will not change anything,” I told him.

  “Perhaps it will not. In the meantime, though, it is getting late, and the king must still have his wretched gold.”

  That was true. If Master Jamsden succeeded on the morrow with his plea before the High Court, this might be the last time I ever had to sit at this wheel and spin gold for a greedy king. But in the meantime, I must play my role.

  “One more kiss, to see me through it?” I asked, and Tobyn rewarded me with a reluctant chuckle.

  “If that is the price I must pay….” He bent and kissed me, but softly and swiftly.

  I wanted more, but I knew that would have to suffice for now. After he had straightened, I took my seat at the spinning wheel, gathered up a measure of straw, and got to work. This time, neither of us spoke as the skein of gold on the bobbin grew thicker and thicker. What more could we say? We had come to some kind of an accord, and until I knew of my fate the next day, it did not seem the right time to make plans.