by Katy Haye
Mathu joined us a few minutes later, carrying a bird suitable for Rannyl. With my coaching and Mathu watching over us both, she took her first steps in falconry, squealing with alarm at first as the bird neared, but at the end of a couple of hours she was a competent falconer.
“This is more fun than I expected,” she told me, stroking the bird on her wrist.
“Of course. It’s even better when –”
I broke off as noise broke out to our right. I turned in time to see the prince’s horse burst through the treeline onto the lawn, the prince carrying something draped over his lap.
“Fetch a healer!”
With a shock, I realised the draped thing was Claresse. I ran towards them as servants scattered to and fro to follow the prince’s bidding.
By the time I reached the prince, two servants had lifted Claresse down. She was trying not to cry, her face damp with tears and her teeth gritted against the pain. She was cradling one arm in the other. I tugged off my jacket and set it on the ground. “Sit her down,” I directed.
The prince swung down from his horse as the servants obeyed. I glanced at him. “I have a little experience with healing.”
The prince nodded to indicate I had his authority. I knelt beside Claresse murmuring my questions as I gently felt up her arm. She gave a sharp gasp where I could feel swelling. “I’m so sorry, Claresse, I think it might be broken.” I glanced at the servants. “Can someone bring poppy syrup for the pain? It will need to be set.”
The healer arrived then and I backed away to allow the professional to work. My steps put me beside the prince, arms folded across his chest as he watched Claresse and the healer.
“She was thrown,” the prince said with quiet hardness.
“How unfortunate.” I wondered if he felt responsible – the mare had been his gift, after all.
“Fortune has little to do with it,” he told me through gritted teeth.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Forgive me, it’s been a shock. I spoke without thinking. I must attend to my guest.”
He strode away, bending to speak to the healer. I frowned. When people spoke without thinking, usually, that was when they spoke the truth. Was he saying Claresse’s fall wasn’t an accident?
Rannyl joined me. “I suppose we should go back to the palace. This will cause quite an upset.”
Mathu took the birds and we headed back to my room. I gripped Rannyl’s arm, barely keeping my whirling thoughts in check until we reached my room and I closed the door behind us.
“What?” Rannyl asked.
“The prince just suggested that what happened to Claresse wasn’t an accident.”
Rannyl’s lip pinched, but she didn’t look surprised. “I suppose something like this was inevitable.”
I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
“There is little to choose between the candidates. My guess is that someone decided to remove Claresse from the running.”
A chill passed through me. How naïve I’d been to suppose that my family was the only ones willing to cheat. I met Rannyl’s gaze and a horrible realisation struck me. “You can’t think that I—”
She held up a hand. “I think you are far too straightforward to attempt such a thing. But what of your father, or brother? They want you to win, don’t they?”
I felt sick. Martyn had said I would need all the help I could get – was this the sort of help he meant? I could acquit my father, since he thought the potion was all we needed. Or did he? What exactly had he been discussing with Redmor the day before? “It’s unbearable to suspect everyone,” I murmured. Then I looked at Rannyl, stricken. “Except you.”
She put a reassuring hand on my arm. “We know neither of us could be responsible for whatever happened to Claresse.” She glanced at the palace door. “But I do think it would be wise of us to allow our faces to be seen.”
We went to the great hall where it seemed as though everyone had gathered. News had travelled rapidly, a story building around what was already known.
Claresse’s horse had startled, reared and thrown her. It couldn’t be an accident because there had been other foul play: the prince had checked the mare’s saddle and found sharp burrs placed beneath the leather.
The stable servants were being questioned, but suspicion cast a cloud over all of us.
“How is Claresse?” I asked Glynneth, the first candidate we found in the crowded space. “Has the healer done their work?”
She nodded, her eyes darting nervously around. “The bone has been set. She is sleeping. Her mother is with her and the prince and her brother are discussing the matter.” Her eyes widened. “Have you heard? They say it wasn’t an accident.”
“I have heard the rumours.”
“It’s too early for certainties,” Rannyl broke in smoothly. “I’m very sure the prince will get to the bottom of matters. He has taken such good care of us so far; he must be horrified with what has happened.”
“What do you know of the matter?” Jesca stepped up to us, her strident voice ringing out. “You were outside at the time.”
“We were hawking outside the mews, not in the woods,” Rannyl said.
Jesca sniffed. “Aren’t the stables very near to the mews?” She looked directly at me as she thought aloud – plenty loud enough for everyone to hear. “Did you hear or see anything amiss, Hanna?”
The question was innocent enough, but I had enough experience with Martyn to know the intention wasn’t innocent. She meant to cast doubt on me. Everyone, as Jesca planned, was now looking intently at me. “I was too focused on what I was doing to notice whether anything strange was happening in a different place,” I told her coolly.
“Besides,” Rannyl stepped forward so we were shoulder to shoulder, “I was with her. Neither of us saw anything worth remarking.”
“That’s a shame,” Jesca said, tossing her hair back. “You might have seen something that might help us catch whoever did this awful thing.”
“Unfortunately not,” Rannyl replied. “But you and Glynneth also went for a walk in the grounds – did you see anything untoward?”
I hid a smile. With a few words, Rannyl had turned the table, making it clear to all that if we had opportunity for wrong-doing, then so did Jesca.
“Of course not,” Jesca huffed. “I would have said so if I had.”
Rannyl spread her hands. “Then we must leave matters for the prince and his men to sort out.” She glanced out of the window. “I think I will pick some flowers to brighten her room. Hanna, would you like to come with me?”
“Thank you, yes, flowers might help to cheer the poor patient.” Rannyl slipped her arm through mine and we started towards the exit. Smiling was inappropriate under the circumstances, so I kept my satisfaction hidden. We had shown our faces, announced our innocence and demonstrated sisterly concern for Claresse. I couldn’t think of a way we might have handled the situation better.
That was until my brother showed his face.
19 – A Ruthless Queen
“Leave us.” My brother pushed his way into my room as I was preparing for the night’s meal – and my performance, which was to go on regardless what else had happened. He barely waited for the servants to leave before expressing his opinion on the day’s events. “The stupid girl is insisting on staying here.”
“Martyn, hush.” As I understood it, Claresse wasn’t insisting on anything; her brother had announced she would remain at the palace for the time being. She was asleep in bed, recovering. And while I was sure Lord Venner wouldn’t allow her to give up her ambitions, it made sense for her to stay here. A journey to the foothills of the mountains was hardly wise to undertake with a broken bone. “Of course she’ll stay here until she recovers.”
“She can’t win now,” he declared. “She should have the grace to retire, not keep hanging around.”
I tried hard not to roll my eyes. Trust my brother to be outraged by a woman not doing what he thought she shoul
d. “The break is temporary,” I reminded him. “The prince’s marriage is permanent. Would you have sent me home if it had been me?”
He glanced disparagingly at me. “If someone pushed you off a horse you’d probably bounce.”
“Thank you for your confidence. I don’t know why you’re so agitated, it changes nothing.”
He made an impatient sound. “It should change matters. There should only be four candidates now and it would be easier for you. Why couldn’t the stupid girl have broken her neck?”
I went cold at the venom in my brother’s tone. “Did you – did you do something, Martyn? Did you cause Claresse’s horse to throw her?”
He sneered. “No. But it’s a brilliant idea. I wish I had thought of it. We have to make the most of this. Even if she won’t go home, she’s got small chance of impressing the prince with her arm all bound up. Doesn’t look very elegant like that.”
I rested my hands on my hips, dislike radiating from me. “Or perhaps the prince’s sympathies will be aroused and he’s more likely to choose her after this. Had you thought of that?”
He paused, eyes scanning my face as he considered the matter. “You could be right. Perhaps I should throw you down the stairs and see if a few broken bones help your chances.”
I held back a shudder. I wanted rid of the bruises I had; I didn’t crave more. “Don’t even think it.”
He shook his head and started to pace, a sure sign that he was thinking – or what passed for thinking in Martyn’s head. “We should focus on Jesca and Rannyl. If you can’t fight off Glynneth for yourself, then there’s no hope for you.” He scratched his head, “Now, how could we make sure they have to leave the contest?”
“Martyn, stop.” I stood in front of him to end his pacing. “You sound like a madman, and people might be listening.”
He shook his head impatiently. “You don’t understand how important this is.”
I choked back a laugh. “I do. Don’t you see that I would lose all chance with the prince if he suspected me of trying to harm one of my rivals?”
Martyn’s head tipped to the side, considering. “Perhaps he’d be pleased to have a ruthless queen who will do anything to win.”
“Then he must look elsewhere.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You’ve met the prince, Martyn. You’ve spent more time with him than I have at court. He’s a fair, just man. He won’t be impressed by underhand behaviour. From me or my family.”
“We should do everything we must to win.”
“We are doing everything,” I told him. “Trying to harm one of the candidates now is the worst thing you could possibly do. Don’t you think we’ll all be watched more closely after this? If there was a chance to harm the other candidates, then it’s already passed. We need to be above suspicion.” I shut my mouth, because after that there were only moral arguments to be had and Martyn had made it clear that he didn’t feel any need to be constrained by doing the ‘right’ thing. I scanned his face, wondering if he really would do something extreme in order to remove a candidate from the field. I couldn’t say for sure that he wouldn’t.
He began to pace again. “Perhaps the servants could be bribed.” He waved at the door. “That girl of yours, might she help us?”
“Girl?”
“Your maid.”
“Gulla?” I nearly laughed. I folded my arms. “She is helping us, by taking care of me.” What a shame my father and brother didn’t consider that an important aspect of the contest. “Do not ask her to do anything, Martyn. She works for the palace. I’m quite sure she’d report you and then all would be lost.”
He huffed. I knew my brother. I needed something to distract him with. “If you aren’t behind it, Martyn, who is? Which family thinks they have benefited from this? What’s the gossip? Imagine the favour you would win with the prince if you brought him proof of who is acting against his instructions – and the king’s,” I added, although not many people were thinking of the king these days. He had retired to his sickbed the way Martyn was hoping Claresse would.
Martyn stopped and pointed a finger at me. “That’s a good point, sister mine.” He wrinkled his brow, thinking. “No one suspects Glynneth, and Lord Nayre is clearly not desperate to win or he’d have found a stronger candidate. Lord Clofe says Rannyl may do as she pleases, but that’s a stupid suggestion; of course he wants her to win. I don’t think he’d act against Claresse first, though. The families are tight as a glove – he married a cousin of Lord Venner. If it were him, he’d probably attack you first.”
“Then I’m glad it’s not him,” I said tartly. “That leaves me and Lady Jesca. Since it’s not me and you say it wasn’t you, then it must be Jesca or someone in her family.”
Martyn sneered. “That’s Lord Firefort all over, ruled by ambition.”
Once more I bit back my laugh – did Martyn really perceive a difference between his ambition and that of the older lord? “Then we have our suspect,” I told him. “See what you can find out – where was he when the accident happened?”
My half-brother gave me a patronising look. “He won’t have put burrs in the saddle and flung a rock at the horse himself, dimwit.”
I gritted my teeth. “Then see if you can find what his servants might have been about at the time.”
Martyn shook his finger at me once more. “That’s not a bad idea. And if I can find proof against Lord Firefort, that will take Jesca out of the picture.” He strode away. I sighed, too pleased to see the back of him to point out the obvious: that Lord Firefort’s guilt would only take Jesca out of the contest if the prince considered her also responsible. If he was the fair man I believed him to be I didn’t think he’d taint her with her father’s treachery.
A knock sounded at the door and Rannyl poked her head around. “Would you like some help with your hair?”
I wanted relief from my kin far more. I smiled and waved her in. “That’s very kind.”
She shook her head as she entered. “Not at all. I like to be useful.”
Martyn glared at me and exited swiftly, leaving the two of us thankfully alone. We discussed the day’s events in low voices as Rannyl made me beautiful. I suspected similar conversations were going on across the palace. The name Claresse was on everyone’s lips. Claresse couldn’t have done anything more to make herself so securely the focus of attention.
I shivered, remembering the suggestion I’d made in jest to Martyn, and his reply that he might throw me down the stairs to garner sympathy from the prince. I wondered how desperate Lord Venner was to see his sister gain a throne. Might he have orchestrated the whole thing?
Nausea rose in me at thinking he would hurt his own sister to advance her cause. Were all of us women simply pawns for our menfolk, to be disposed of as they decided? A cold ball settled in my stomach. We were more than chattel, and it was time the men realised that.
20 – A Salutary Lesson
I barely picked at my meal while conversation buzzed about Claresse and what might or might not have led to her accident. Finally, the food was removed. It was time. I rose and stepped past the candidates to the space in the middle of the room.
As I rounded the table my brother stepped into my path. “Do well.” Martyn’s words might have been mistaken for well-wishing, but only if you completely ignored his threatening tone.
I wouldn’t allow myself to be distracted by him, or father, or fears for mama. I couldn’t let myself think of the other candidates and whether the prince had already decided upon a favourite. All I had to do was dance. Better than I’d ever danced before.
The herald called for silence. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes until calm descended and the musicians began. My eyes snapped open and I stepped out before the prince.
There was no other audience – or none that mattered. The drum beat sank through my ears into my belly, my blood beating in time. I watched the prince levelly as I took my first steps, feinting one way then setting my foot another, twisting my body
sinuously.
Men often made the mistake of supposing that the dance was intended to impress them – the way they thought everything centred around them. It wasn’t intended to impress anyone. It was a celebration – of life, of happiness. We danced because our bodies were strong and had the energy to do so.
The music sank beneath my skin, making my blood rise hot and ready while my movements changed, my body spinning, my head turning last of all, my gaze barely leaving the prince before it returned. My skirts flared out as my feet moved faster.
Now was the moment for temptation. I wanted to invite the prince to join my dance, but that would be a mistake. It would look as though I were trying to force his hand, a grave error.
Also, my end move might be the death of me since the guards had no idea of my intentions.
I danced around the edge of the space I had been granted, moving past each member of the audience until I reached my half-brother, leaning against the wall, barely watching his sister, the hope of his family. With a smile, I took his hand and tugged him into the middle, so the two of us stood before the prince.
“What is this?” Martyn hissed.
“Move or don’t,” I told him. “It’s me they’re looking at.” I started the final part of the dance, the section that needed a partner. I turned my back on the prince with a toss of my hair and focused on Martyn, dancing around him, advancing and retreating as though I were tempted by him but didn’t quite dare to act on that temptation.
“This is stupid.”
I ignored him, flicking my hair so he tipped his head back, away from the ends tickling his face. My breaths and my footsteps both grew faster yet. My feet took me in circles and brought me to my half-brother and back away, while my arms lifted, describing shapes in the air.
As I spun around the room I heard a snide voice over the sound of the music and the pounding of my blood in my ears.
“Really – are they so desperate for partners on the islands that they must dance with their own brothers?”
Heat prickled down my spine. I let a smile play over my lips in response to Jesca’s nasty words. If she was deriding me, it meant she was rattled. I was delighted to be the one to upset her.
