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

by Christine Pope

  And no doubt he was not very kind about it. My own father’s faults were numerous, but I had to hope he would not have behaved similarly in a similar situation. “It is not the king’s regard that should concern you, but that of your husband,” I told her. “And he will remain your husband, no matter what the king might say.”

  “Yes, that is what His Highness told me.” Lorelis smoothed the heavy silk of her skirt over her knees, palms flat on the fabric. Sapphires sparkled on her fingers to match the ones in her ears. “He said that only he can sue for annulment, and he has no intention of doing so, and therefore his father can bluster all he likes.”

  I had not known that, and Her Highness’s words relieved me somewhat. For what could the king do to coerce his unwilling son? Hold a knife to his throat? I rather doubted it.

  “You see?” I said gently. “There is no reason to worry. But I am sorry if anything I have said or done might have caused you distress.”

  “No, not that,” she replied at once. “Or rather, I was worried, when I heard how lovely you were supposed to be. That is not your fault, however.” She seemed to catch herself, and gave a little shake of her head. “No, that is not what I meant. Only that your beauty is perhaps a gift of the gods, and certainly not a fault.”

  A curse, perhaps. For if I had been a plain girl, my father would have married me off as soon as he could, knowing that I might not get a better offer. Instead, he had held on to me, thinking of me only as a prize that might be used to bargain his way out of trouble. Surely the duke would not have had such an interest in me if I had been ill-favored.

  But if I had been married off early, I would never have met Tobyn, and so I could not curse my present lot overmuch. All I wanted now was a way to extricate myself from this situation.

  “Clearly, my looks matter very little to His Highness, which is as it should be,” I told the princess. “He must care for you very much, or he would not defend you so vigorously to his father. And so I think we must all wait until the king wearies of this game, which will be uncomfortable for everyone involved. But in the end he must relent.”

  “I do hope you are right, Mistress Kelsden,” Princess Lorelis said. She glanced up at the hour candle on the mantel, and a flicker of worry passed over her face. “It grows late, and I will be expected down at dinner. I see no point in giving His Majesty yet another reason to be displeased with me.” Rising from the divan, she added, “I will tell my husband of your kindness to me. He…was not all that approving of you when last we spoke, thinking you must be colluding with the king somehow, but it now is clear to me that you have no interest in being queen one day.”

  A stab of annoyance went through me, but I found myself nodding. I had no wish for an argument at that point, especially when there was no need to defend myself to the princess. Prince Harlin could think what he liked. Perhaps if our situations had been reversed, I would have thought rather the same thing.

  Still, my tone was probably sharper than I had intended as I replied, “No, Your Highness, I can assure you that I have absolutely no desire to be queen.”

  She didn’t seem to hear the annoyance in my voice, or at least affected not to notice. “Thank you, Mistress Kelsden. I shall sleep better this night, and I hope you will as well.”

  An almost queenly incline of her head, and then she was off. Because Rashelle had made herself scarce, the princess was forced to let herself out. Perhaps I should have hurried ahead to open the door for her? Ah, well, too late now.

  But once she was gone, I felt myself sag a bit. Although I would have said I had no appetite at all, right then I did wonder if the constant confrontations had begun to wear me down, and I required some food to restore me. Presumably Rashelle would be back soon with my dinner tray. Then, not so very long after that, I would see Tobyn again, and we could discuss what to do. There had to be some way he could use his magic to get me out of this place, no matter what he might have said in the past to the contrary.

  When Rashelle appeared a few minutes later, she did have my tray…but she had also not come alone. A rather forbidding woman, seeming to be of an age with my father, had accompanied her. As Rashelle hurried into the main salon to set the dinner tray on one of the tables there, the strange woman paused where the entryway opened up into the salon and fixed me with a narrowed eye.

  “I am Mistress Thranson, the chatelaine. It has been decided that you should no longer be left accompanied during the evening. There have been guards stationed outside your door each night, but that is not sufficient. Rashelle here will sleep in the small room off your study.”

  I stared at this apparition with a sinking heart. The one solace I had had throughout this entire ordeal was the chance to see Tobyn each night, to know that we could speak and plan…and then kiss…without fear of interruption. But now, to have a chaperone just on the other side of the room where I must work at the spinning wheel? It was not to be borne.

  Although I knew I fought a losing battle, I still decided that I must register some sort of protest. “Mistress Thranson, Rashelle has been a very good attendant for me, but I fear I see no need for her to attend me night and day. I would not wish to deprive her of her own quarters in the servants’ wing.”

  A tightening of her already thin lips, and Mistress Thranson replied, “Do not worry about whether you are depriving her of anything, my lady. She is here to serve you. And I know there is a comfortable bed in that chamber, so she will not suffer in any way.”

  True, that room did possess a bed. Not so large and elaborate as the one I slept in, but still, it was most likely a more comfortable situation than wherever Rashelle might sleep in the servants’ wing. I had only been in and out of the chamber off the study two or three times at most, and so I did not recall much else of the furnishings. Most likely it had belonged to the lady’s maid of the king’s mistress, the one who had been sent packing some time ago.

  During this exchange, Rashelle had been standing off to one side, listening to our debate. I turned to her and said, “And what are your thoughts on this matter, Rashelle? For if you would prefer to keep our current arrangement, I will do what I can to make sure nothing changes.”

  She shook her head, even as Mistress Thranson said, “It does not matter what she does or does not prefer. She is a servant in the king’s household, and will go where she is told.”

  There was such a note of command in the older woman’s tone that I knew I dared not continue to argue the subject. I might have been put in this suite under the guise of being an honored guest — and possible new bride to the prince — but I had no power here, no say in anything, except perhaps which gown I would wear that day.

  Also, I worried if I protested too much, Mistress Thranson might become suspicious, and wonder why I was so concerned about sleeping without a chaperone in the suite. That would never do. All I could hope then was that Rashelle would turn out to be a heavy sleeper…or perhaps that Tobyn might know a bit of magic to make sure she slumbered soundly, even if that was not her usual habit.

  “Of course, Mistress Thranson,” I said then, and hoped my tone was sufficiently meek. “That room will do very well for Rashelle, and perhaps it will help her in the mornings, too, for she will not have so far to go to ensure that the fire is lit and the hot water for my tea already available when I rise in the morning.”

  This sop to her wishes did not appear to mollify Mistress Thranson overmuch, for her mouth remained compressed. Voice somewhat acid, she said, “It is her duty to awake early enough to make sure such things are managed, and you should not have to worry about her comfort. Of course, perhaps these matters were viewed differently in the household of your merchant father than they are here in the palace.”

  If I had been affecting the manners of a great lady and attempting to pass as a member of the court, perhaps such an utterance would have offended me. But since I knew my origins all too well and had done nothing to hide them, I only smothered a smile. No doubt the good mistress was imagi
ning a house with some ten servants or so, and not our meager three. Well, two, now that Cordell had gone.

  “Perhaps,” I said mildly, hoping that she would let the topic go. I could see that she was intractable on the subject, and by that point I only wished to get to my dinner, rapidly growing cold under its silver-lidded tray.

  Whether it was my tone or something else in my face or manner, I could not say, but Mistress Thranson seemed satisfied by my response. “Rashelle will get her things from the servants’ wing and be back soon. Enjoy your supper, my lady.”

  It sounded more like a command than a pleasant request. She turned on her heel and headed back to the door, Rashelle tagging along a few paces behind. Then they were gone, and I was alone.

  But not for long. Biting back a sigh, I took up my dinner tray and attempted to resign myself to an existence where Tobyn would no longer have free run of my suite.

  * * *

  I did tell Rashelle that I must do something for the king each night in the study, and that I must not be disturbed for any reason. Her blue eyes lit up with curiosity, but she knew better than to pry, especially in a matter involving the king. No doubt she had already been wondering why the study door was always kept locked. Unfortunately for her, she would get no further illumination from me. It would have been too difficult to explain away that spinning wheel, and why I only used it at night.

  “Of course, my lady,” she said, and left it at that.

  Her response did not do much to reassure me. That night I stayed in my bed much longer than I normally would, waiting to make sure she slept before I ventured forth. True, she had been warned that I would move about the suite at night, but I thought it better that she be asleep before I tiptoed into the study.

  As soon as I had shut the door and locked it behind me, I heard Tobyn’s voice, pitched low. “So we are to have a chaperone, it seems.”

  “Yes,” I murmured, hurrying across the room to him.

  At least there was no nonsense this time about trying to stop me; he took me into his arms at once, warm, comforting, his lips brushing the top of my head before he drew me closer so he could kiss me properly on the mouth. Despite everything, warmth flowed through me. Somehow I could not be quite so worried when in his presence.

  He said, “You have had quite the day, haven’t you, Annora?”

  “So you’ve heard?”

  “I heard some rumor of further foolishness by the king. Does he truly think he can have the prince’s marriage annulled?”

  “He seems to believe it with all his heart,” I replied, my words barely above a whisper. Yes, I had stopped to listen at Rashelle’s door and thought I heard a faint snore from within, but even so I knew I must be careful. “Of course, Prince Harlin is fighting him, and it seems he must be the one to seek the annulment, but….”

  My words died away. I thought again of what Princess Lorelis had said, how the king always got his way. Of course he did. He was the king. What could any of us possibly do to prevail against his power, his position?

  Tobyn’s voice was also no more than a murmur, but it still seemed to reverberate through me, soothing, calm. “My dear, it is surely not so bad as all that. As you said, the prince must be the one to initiate his separation from Princess Lorelis, and that does not seem very likely. What all this has done is show how very desperate the king is to keep his source of gold close by. He was never to be trusted, but now?” I felt rather than saw Tobyn shake his head. “I fear for you, Annora.”

  Well, that was not very reassuring! I pulled away and gazed up into the shadows that forever obscured his face. “Then take me from here,” I whispered fiercely. “There must be some way, something you have not thought of.”

  He seemed to tense. “I have already told you that the magic I possess is not of that sort. I cannot turn you invisible, nor snap my fingers and have you safely back in your father’s house. No, we must think of something else.”

  What that might be, I couldn’t begin to guess. He stepped away from me and went to the spinning wheel, one gloved finger touching the sharp end of the spindle. “In the meantime,” he went on quietly, “let us give the king the gold he desires above all else…but perhaps not quite so much of it.”

  I stared at Tobyn, mystified. “But will that not only anger him?”

  “Perhaps. If he asks you why there is not as much tonight, you will tell him it is because you are tired and distracted, and now you are to have no privacy at all. If you make it seem as if your maidservant’s presence here is affecting your ability to produce the gold, it is possible that he may decide it is not such a good thing for you to have a chaperone after all, and will send your lady’s maid back to sleep in the servants’ wing where she belongs.”

  His suggestion made some sense, and yet I worried about invoking the king’s wrath. Then again, what on earth could he do to me? I was already the next thing to a prisoner, and he seemed to be bent on making me his son’s wife, even though neither of us would have anything to do with such a mad enterprise. Perhaps it might be better to show King Elsdon that the prodigious amounts of gold I’d been providing him were by no means a surety.

  “Very well,” I said quietly. “Let us do just that.”

  I settled myself at the wheel and took up the straw, just as I had done many nights before. And once again the gold flowed out, although I noted that the thread did not seem to be quite as thick this time, and its weight upon the bobbin when I was done not nearly as heavy as it should be. I lifted the golden thread, then went to Tobyn, who had been watching in silence the whole time.

  “It does seem quite meager,” I told him, handing him the little golden ball of fibers.

  “In contrast, yes, it does. But it is still enough to feed a family for a year.” He went quiet as he weighed the product of that night’s work in the palm of one gloved hand. “Ah, well. We will see where this stratagem takes us. In the meantime, I have Master Jamsden working on your appeal, although neither of us is terribly sanguine about its hopes of success.”

  Neither was I, but I saw no reason to state the obvious. “Thank him for his efforts,” I said. “Even if it should prove that they are in vain.”

  Tobyn made no answer, instead slipping the ball of golden thread into the pocket of my dressing gown. For the briefest second, I could feel his fingers brush against my hip, and a thrill went through me at that touch. How I wished he would not pull away, would perhaps slide his hand up to my waist.

  But of course he did not. He took a step backward, voice unruffled as he said in quiet tones, “We shall see. In the meantime, it is best if I go.”

  I wanted to beg him to stay. After everything I had suffered that day, I wanted only to feel his arms around me again, to experience the reassurance of his touch, even if I knew such comfort was misleading at best. With all that, I managed to nod meekly and murmur, “Yes, I suppose it is best.”

  A sort of low growl came from his throat, and in the next instant he was beside me, head lowering so he might taste my mouth again. I opened my lips to him, wanting nothing more than this, the two of us joined, if only for a few seconds.

  He whispered, “Ah, Annora. Every day it becomes more difficult to leave you here. But take heart, my darling. You shall not be the king’s prisoner forever.”

  Another kiss, one that left me gasping, and he was gone, my arms reaching for empty air. I let out a startled little sound, then closed my lips and hoped I had not been loud enough for Rashelle to overhear. Perhaps one day I would get used to how Tobyn came and went.

  In the meantime, I patted the ball of thread in my pocket, then blew out the candles in the study and closed the door behind me, locking it as I left. Outside the door to the room where Rashelle slept, I paused, then listened for any sign that she might be wakeful. But I heard nothing, save the same soft snores from before. It seemed that she had slept through the entire time Tobyn was here.

  I uttered a mental prayer to the gods for watching over me, then tiptoed back to
my own bedchamber, where I pulled off my dressing gown and slipped under the heavy quilted counterpane. It seemed we had survived our first night with a chaperone. I could only hope there would not be many more such nights.

  Chapter 13

  “What is this?” the king thundered, and I had to do everything in my power not to cower like a kicked dog.

  “It — it is your gold, Your Majesty.”

  “And where is the rest of it?”

  “I — ” I quailed, then said, not quite meeting his eyes, “That is all there is.”

  “Lord Edmar?”

  The duke had been standing off to one side, watching this exchange. When the king addressed him, he offered an elegant, if somewhat negligent, shrug. “I did look around her suite, Your Majesty. I saw no sign that she had hidden any of it. And the chatelaine questioned the maid, who swears she has never taken anything from Mistress Kelsden’s suite.”

  We now stood in the king’s private apartments, thank the gods, and not in the audience chamber. Prince Harlin was nowhere in evidence, an absence for which I was quite grateful. He and I might be allied against King Elsdon in one matter, but that did not mean we were anything close to comfortable around one another.

  When Lord Edmar had come to collect the gold that morning, he’d frowned at the meager amount I offered, and did not quite believe my explanation that I was wearied and unable to produce anything more than that. No, he had poked into every drawer, every cupboard, had even gotten down on his knees and looked under the bed while Rashelle stood off to one side, a horrified expression on her face. No doubt she had never thought she’d see a great man like the duke crawling around on the floor of a bedroom. Or perhaps she was worried that she had left some dust mice under the bed.

  If she had, Lord Edmar gave no sign of noticing her poor housekeeping. He got up, brushed off his knees, and said, “I believe His Majesty would like to speak to you about this.”