"But it does. No man wants another man's leavings."
Temmin blanched. He'd called Allis his father's leavings, just two days ago. That was different, wasn't it? Going after one's own father had to be different than going after some random man. Allis was no virgin, far from it, and it didn't bother him, did it? Or was this an example of Percy's species in the species? "I don't think that's necessarily true."
"You are thinking of Allis. She is a Beloved. Beloveds are by definition experienced, as are mistresses, courtesans and prostitutes. One takes them to bed, not to wed."
"So tell me what Father would do."
"He would marry her off as quickly as possible," said Teacher. "She would be given to the first consenting noble."
Temmin put his feet up. "I don't see how that's all that different than what he has in mind for them now."
"Your father is trying to make good matches for your sisters both for the kingdom and for their own sakes. If he can possibly combine the two, he will."
"But the kingdom comes first," said Temmin.
"Yes, it does," admitted Teacher.
"Then kings should never be fathers," grumbled Temmin.
That night, Temmin decided to brave the dining room. If his father wanted enmity, he'd return it, Pagg be damned.
He got no chance to show his father unpious incivility; the King dined elsewhere, and so Temmin found himself staring at Fennows over the after-dinner port. "Well!" said the spotty young lord. "Bit of a time you're having with the old man! Damned unhappy about the whole Temple thing. Still doing it, eh? Well, I suppose you'll live it down at some point."
"Serving the Gods is not something to live down, Percy."
Fennows snorted. "Among the common people, no. You'll be celebrated in story and song as the Virgin Prince, I should think. It's not the peasants and merchants I'm thinking of, but our sort of people."
"Here's what I want to know," said Temmin, cracking a walnut between his fingers and tossing the shell in Percy's general direction. "Why is it so important that a man should be sexually experienced as soon as possible, when women must be virgins until they marry?"
"What?" said Fennows. "You can't be serious. Let me hand round the bottle, old thing, your gears are stuck and in need of lubrication."
"I'm quite serious!" said Temmin, automatically pouring himself another glass. "For instance, if you loved a girl, would you care if she wasn't a virgin? You'd marry her, wouldn't you? I mean, she's not supposed to even know about all the women you've had."
"That's because I'm a man," explained Fennows in a slow, singsong voice. He sat up straighter. "You're not implying anything about Elly, are you?"
"Elly? What? No! Of course not. Why d'you always talk about Elly as if she's practically-- I'm speaking in general," he ended impatiently.
"I wouldn't pay for a dinner where someone else had eaten the main course, would I? No man wants a slut for a wife."
"I'm not talking about a slut! I just mean--what if something had happened--she was tricked, or she was forced, or something?"
"Women are weak-willed, true. But damage is damage. She'd be lucky if anyone took her. End up at a Temple, I should think." Fennows cocked his head; his small eyes studied Temmin's face. "You can't marry Allis Obby, you know, Temmy."
Temmin gaped. "I'm not talking about Allis," he said.
"Then what are you talking about?"
"I'm not sure I know," Temmin murmured.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Temmin vacillated several times before Farrday's overnight visit to the Lovers' Temple. He talked himself back into it each time with a combination of wrath against his father, desire, pride, and the memory of the tiny voice in the stillness of the chapel.
On the dreaded and anticipated day, he took out his nerves on Jebby's legs, riding hard over the countryside through the King's Woods into the unknown fields beyond--another thumbing of his nose. He'd been ordered to stay within the safe confines of the Woods, but today he was invincible. Jebby was less so; the hectic ride had left the big horse flecked with foam, and Temmin decided to leave him at home to rest rather than ride him into town.
Once breakfasted and dressed, Temmin's nerves overwhelmed his coordination; his hands shook too hard to saddle LeiLei, and he gave the task up to the grooms before he'd begun it. By the time he gave LeiLei's reins to one of the servants at the Temple's steps, he wished he were back home in bed with the curtains drawn. He trudged up the steps, Brother Mardus and a Guardsman flanking him; four Temple's Own crossbowmen and a supervising Brother crouched on the roof. He took off his hat and went inside.
Allis and Issak waited for him in the Great Hall, in a respectful circle of space left where the stream of worshippers parted around them. The soft waterfall of voices echoing against the rosy marble trickled away. Every face turned toward Temmin. A young man said, "It's him, Tess--is he...?" into the quiet.
"A word, Your Highness," said a rasping, cultivated voice. Temmin turned; the Duke of Litta stood to one side, rigid and disdainful.
Temmin stopped, uncertain. He'd been introduced to Litta--he'd danced at his ball--but he knew the Duke only casually. Even so, he crossed the floor, holding out his hand and projecting as much dignity and confidence as he could muster. "Good morning, Lord Litta," he said in his best imitation of his father.
Litta took his hand, and pulled him closer. "What I have to say is for your ears alone--for now."
Temmin let himself be led to an altar dedicated to the Wingèd Neya; he noted Mardus and four Temple's Own hovering nearby, out of earshot. "What may I do for you?" he said.
"You may stop this," Litta replied brusquely.
Temmin gaped briefly, but recovered and said, "I hardly see how this is your business, sir."
"It is the business of every noble in this land. You are making a grave mistake, and we are willing to go to some lengths to stop you."
Litta was the more powerfully built, but Temmin was taller; he took refuge in his height against the other man's intimidating manner, and pulled himself upright. "Exactly how far would that be--hang on," he said, his temper rising, "are you threatening me? In the Temple?"
"Threatening you? No. I am a loyal subject of His Majesty, and bear scars endured in the King's service," bowed Litta. "But you are aware of the prophecy, 'When Nerr gets the Heir,' as the vulgar people summarize it?"
"What of it? I'm amazed you believe in it. And even if it is true, why would the country's prosperity be bad for the nobility?"
"Not the country's prosperity--the common people's prosperity. We are the country. They are our subjects. Should they prosper too much, they will begin to consider themselves our equals. Your Highness, if you take Supplicancy, you may bring down a thousand years of Tremontine rule."
“Prophecy is often misinterpreted,” said Temmin, thinking of Warin’s prophecy.
"I am not willing to gamble on that."
Temmin crossed his arms, his confidence less and less feigned as his temper rose. "And how do you propose to stop me?"
Litta flicked a glance over Temmin's shoulder. "From your behavior, I assume it's more than just a physical urge that leads you into the arms of the Embodiments." Temmin said nothing, his eyes narrowing. "Mm," murmured Litta. He gazed dispassionately at the twins, letting his words take their time. "I would imagine, then, that if they were harmed in any way--"
"If you or anyone acting on your behalf lay a finger on either of them, I will see the Brothers hang your head over Marketgate. Pagg damn me if I don't do it myself!" said Temmin.
"Keep your voice down, young sir."
"I remind you I am an adult, sir, and the Heir."
"If you are an adult, then you will understand that I don't have to lay a finger on them, sir."
Temmin stared into Litta's triumphant eyes, his confidence fading. "What do you mean?" he said.
"Word of the Obbys' past has reached me." Litta stepped closer. "If it got out, it would ruin them. They'd be cast out of the Temple. I
dare say they'd have to return to their former profession."
"I'm sure the Temple knows what happened to them when they were children."
"Oh, of course. I can't imagine their sponsor kept it from the Most Highs, nor do I think it would have mattered. It doesn't matter to me--what happened to them is sad, really. Deplorable. But I wonder what the common people would think. The Obbys explained it all away to you, but they can't...charm...everyone in the kingdom, can they? It would ruin them," he repeated.
Temmin blanched. "This is blasphemy--are you a believer?"
"I care more about my children's inheritance than my soul." Litta smiled. "Do you think I wouldn't do it? If you take Supplicancy, I promise you, everyone in the City will know the day after Neya's Day. If you turn from the Temple, I promise you, no one will know other than the King and myself--and you. And you'll still be able to see the Obbys. Just not...right away. Do think on it, sir." Litta patted Temmin's shoulder, and strode out of the Temple with as close to a saunter as his military bearing would allow.
"Temmin?" said Allis's voice at his elbow. She put a hand on his back; he mechanically took her on his arm, and walked toward the Supplicant's Chamber. Issak joined them, kissed Temmin without a word, and took his other arm. They left the Temple's Own at the door to the Supplicant's Chamber. Once inside, Temmin paced away from the twins into the room; Issak glanced at Allis as they followed behind.
"You're upset," said Allis. "What did Litta say?"
"Nothing of consequence."
"Ah, that explains your shift in mood from apprehensive and excited, to apprehensive and frightened," said Issak. "What did he say, Temmin?"
Temmin sighed and folded himself onto a couch, setting his hat beside him. "He knows about your life in Belleth. Pagg damn my father, he told Litta about your past."
"And?" said Issak.
"And Litta says if I take Supplicancy, he'll tell everyone!" said Temmin, spreading his arms. "It'll ruin you! I can't let that happen to you, and I can't swallow letting him win like that, especially when it's really my father's doing. Gods, I hate him!"
"It's not hard to see it from the King's perspective," said Allis, sitting next to him. "He's worried about you."
"Worried about politics," said Temmin.
"In his mind, the two are linked. You will inherit the throne. He worries he won't have one to give you," she said.
Temmin pushed his hair out of his eyes. "You think Eddin's priests are right, that if I come here it's the end of the monarchy?"
"No," she said, "I think your father loves you."
"I wish he'd leave me alone."
"And I wish I had a father," she murmured.
Issak fixed his sister with a warning look, and said, "Temmin, you knew the nobility would not approve of this."
"No, but I thought they'd just try to talk me out of it!" Temmin answered. He grimaced and threw up his hands. "Who'd think they'd dare threaten the Heir, or Embodiments--who does something like that? It's blasphemy!"
"Not everyone puts faith above personal advantage," said Allis.
Temmin put his head in his hands, pushed his hair back again, and stood up. "So that's it, then? I just go home?"
"Do you want to go home?" said Issak.
"Pagg's balls, will you stop that!" he shouted. "Aren't you worried? At all? My father's won! I can't let him ruin you! There's nothing to say he won't do it anyway!"
Issak took him by the shoulders and shook him once. "You are going to calm down, and we are going to take care of it. All right? We decide what happens here, not you. We will take this to the Most Highs, and among us, we will sort it out. You are to focus on becoming a Supplicant."
"How can I focus, when my father's threatening you? He's the King. He's a believer who fears for his soul, but apparently he has others who don't, who'll do his bad business for him. If he wants to hurt you, there's nothing I can do--I can't protect you except by leaving!"
"Tem, you don't have to protect us," soothed Allis. "It's all right."
"No, it's not! This is a bad idea anyway, just let me go!" He wrenched himself from Issak's grip and ran from the room.
Allis rose from the couch as if to follow, but took her brother's hand instead. "I think it's best if we let Teacher deal with him at this point."
"I agree," nodded Issak. He sighed, and took Allis in his arms, kissing the top of her head. "One thing I love about people," he said, "is that however much I know about them, however well I think I can read them, they still manage to surprise me now and again. I knew his sexual frustration is mounting, and then he wants his father's approval so badly, but--"
"No, it's more than that." She looked up, eyes troubled. "I think he's in love with us."
Issak paused. "You may be right." He rocked her in his arms a moment longer, and kissed her nose. "We have time to take care of that. What concerns me is that you react to him more than you ought."
"It concerns me too," murmured Allis.
"Come on," said her brother. "Let's go bother the Most Highs and decide how best to deal with His Grace the Duke of Litta."
"There's a cheery thought, at least," she smiled.
Temmin's charge down the Temple steps caught Mardus off-guard. "Your Highness," he called as he ran after the Prince, "I was in conference with the captain of the Temple's Own--I thought we were here for the day--"
"There's been a permanent change of plans. You won't need to talk with the Temple's Own for some time yet, if ever," said Temmin in a thick voice. "Where's my horse? I want to get out of here."
Mardus gestured to one of his cohort, who took off running toward the Temple stables. He pulled on his helmet, his unsettled gaze on Temmin. "Sir, is there anything we as your guard should know? Do you not feel safe here?"
"The only danger here is me," snapped the Prince. "Where's my Pagg-damned horse--finally!" Temmin thrust his hat onto his head and leaped into the saddle. LeiLei danced impatiently until the Guards mounted their own horses. Mardus did his best to keep Temmin from cantering on ahead of them, but once inside the gates, the Brother gave up, and Temmin pelted down the drive; his hat blew off. Mardus stopped, picked it up, and carried it to the mudroom entrance.
From there, the somewhat dusty hat made its way up to the Prince's rooms atop a silver salver held by a footman, finally ending up in the hands of Jenks, who accepted it without comment. The last sound before the door closed was His Highness's voice, raised in anguish and anger: "What do you mean, you're leaving?"
The footman put the salver under his arm and walked silently down the Residence Wing hall, until the King's secretary stopped him before the open door of his office. "The Prince has returned?"
"Yes, Mr Winmer," said the footman. "And may I say, not in the best of moods."
"You may not say, Caid," he answered. "The Prince's business is not a subject for the gossip of servants." At the young man's abashed face, Winmer added, "Very good, it's all right, carry on." He spared the footman a final glance, then shut the door and walked through his green, book-lined office to the King's private sitting room, smiling. "He's home, sir, and 'not in the best of moods,' says Caid."
"Gods bless Litta," sighed Harsin. "Sulky, is he?"
"I would spend the day engaged elsewhere, sir, until tonight's events have unfolded."
"You've arranged things?"
"Oh, yes. The girl is dependable. By this time tomorrow, he will no longer be eligible for Supplicancy. And I should think he'll be considerably more cheerful as a result."
Harsin laughed slightly. "Perhaps, but I think it will be some time before he forgives me. I love my son--I'm his father. But we are King first." He paused, considering. "I'm concerned that someone may try to convince him to stay the course and not accept his gift tonight."
"Colonel Jenks has been called away. His train leaves in two hours. Gram has called in his nephew, Harbis, a gentleman's gentleman of great repute, while the Colonel is away."
"Vetted?"
"By Brother Mar
dus and Teacher. He is completely reliable. Speaking of which, I must ask, sir, about Teacher himself."
"I've given him further instruction not to advise Temmin in any matter involving the Lovers' Temple."
Winmer frowned. "I do not question your judgment, sir, but is it wise to let Teacher out of the library until this is settled? He always looks for loopholes."
"Not this time. He knows my mind."
When Teacher found him, Temmin lay on the green velvet sofa in his study; his eyes hurt, and his hair tangled around his head. "Jenks left," he said.
"I know, Your Highness," Teacher murmured, taking up the habitual post by the hearth. "What did he tell you?"
"That his sister Justice needed him in Reggiston, something about her oldest son getting drummed out of the cavalry. I said, why can't you handle it by post? And what could a former corporal--Uncle Pat's servant!--do about it anyway? He insisted he had to go. And I need him. This is my father's doing. Why won't he leave me alone!"
"I have heard that Mr Gram's nephew, a Mr Harbis, will be here shortly to take care of your attire, sir."
"What do I care about my attire?" cried Temmin, flinging himself backward with one arm over his face. "Harbis can go to the Hill, along with my clothes. I'll send him away. I need Jenks!"
"Why do you need him so badly?"
A sob escaped from under Temmin's elbow. "I'm not going through with Supplicancy."
"Ah?"
"Lord Litta threatened to spread the story about Allis and Issak and everything that happened to them in Belleth."
"Ah."
Temmin lifted his elbow, his sleeve now damp with tears. "'Ah?' That's all? You have nothing else to say, no advice on what I might do?"
"There is nothing I can say," shrugged Teacher. "Your father has ordered me not to advise you on matters involving the Lovers' Temple, sir."
"Pagg damn him! I order you to talk to me about it! I have to talk to someone!"
"Your orders do not supersede his, Your Highness," said Teacher gently.
"You obeyed Hildin!"
"King Gethin had named him Regent, an order that bound me to Hildin as long as Gethin lived, or until he ended Hildin's regency." Teacher gave a small but sympathetic smile. "I can listen, but no more."
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