The guests were then ushered to another set of double doors, these marked with the crest of House Deblaise: a white shield with a red cross, plus a lion head looking left from behind. Once banner guards opened the doors, Captain Sutton stepped through and announced the guests’ arrival.
“Good, good, send them in already,” the King said.
Sean had learned much about Lonsaran culture, but he had heard few things about its king even when he lived in his father’s estate. So he was a little shocked at his first glimpse of the man, and the first word that came to mind was “unkingly.” It wasn’t fair of him, though, for he had been expecting someone strong and stern, like King Hugo. But King Paulson had decidedly soft features, chubby in the face and waistline with a thick mop of black hair and beard stubble. He wore a white shirt with ruffles down the front and sleeves, left untucked from his black cotton trousers. For a man whom Sean had to be made presentable for, he sure didn’t mind his own appearance—in private, at least.
King Paulson rose from the dining table and approached them with the help of a black cane with a silver handle. “Let’s have a look at you. Hmm, younger than I expected. I thought it would take two big, strapping heroes to pull Alpha safely from the battlefield. Goes to show what I know!”
“You honor us, Your Grace,” Sean said with a bow. Callie curtsied beside him.
“Grace? Look at me: Do I look like I have much grace? Oh, but I understand, everyone’s trying to flatter me, get me to do something for them.” He pointed at them as his other hand shook on the cane handle. “But what you did for me, I shall gladly repay. I worried about poor Alpha ever since he was taken from us. As I’m sure you noticed, he’s not all up there.” He twirled his finger around an ear. “Not like most people. He can’t look after himself, needs to be told what to do in so many things. I’d die of a broken heart if I learned he perished from eating a poison mushroom. It would be the cruelest trick fate has played on me yet.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but we have always known him as ‘Jonas.’ That was the name he gave us.”
“Oh, yes, Guyver mentioned that in his missive. Alpha’s abductors must have renamed him, those sodding bastards. Oh, but where are my manners? Please, sit! Eat! You are my guests of honor, and I shall treat you as such.”
The dining table, large enough for ten people, held a mouth-watering spread of steaming glazed ham, roasted turkey slices, silver platters of vegetables, bowls of fresh fruit, and a half-eaten cherry-topped honey cake. Sean helped Callie to a seat, and a butler prepared their dishes and wine glasses. Callie made to tuck in, but she loosened some laces on her corset before doing so.
King Paulson proved to be the kind of host who loved to entertain guests as much as he loved being entertained himself. After lamenting how his wife and daughter couldn’t be there, he launched into interesting and humorous accounts of their mutual acquaintance, Master Cypher. On one of Cypher’s many palace visits, he made some suggestions on how to strengthen the main building’s magic defenses, and when he tried to implement one of his ideas, he ended up cracking every window and mirror within the ward. It had been extremely embarrassing for him, but it was one of many mistakes that made him the wizened old man he was today.
Sean slyly asked if the King could encourage a speedy registration to make him a Lonsaran mage. Otherwise he spoke very little, content with listening to the King while enjoying his meal in the warm sunshine from the tall windows. Callie, on the other hand, confessed to being a clanswoman who had stolen more trinkets from wealthy homes than she could count.
“Oh, really?” the King said, making Sean’s heart skip a beat. In Sean’s imagination, the King called for the guards in the room to detain her and lock her up in the highest room of the tallest tower until she reached the ripe age of eighty-nine. Instead, Paulson asked, “If it were up to you, would you steal this delicious ham or my cane, hmm? Something to eat or something to sell?”
She giggled nervously. “Well, Your Majesty … I’m a retainer for Count Guyver now; I’ve left that behind me.”
“Oh, I won’t tell Guyver anything. This will be only between you and me.”
“I would … take the ham? Because you wouldn’t miss it as much, and it’s really good!”
“Incorrect! You should take the cane and run it through the ham so you can carry both at once. And you won’t have to worry about me following you. Ha, I’d make a better thief than you!”
The absurd notion made everyone burst out laughing (except the guards, though they cracked some smiles). “I shouldn’t plan any burglaries here, then,” Callie said. “You’re the most dangerous one here! Er, Your Majesty, a question if I may: Why is Lonsaran the ‘Land of Twins?’ Is there a spell people use?”
Sean quickly swallowed his mouthful of turkey and said, “Your Majesty, I can explain it to her if you’d like.”
“Nonsense! I’d be happy to educate her. Having twins is a proud tradition of my kingdom, after all. To answer your question: Yes, there is something called the ‘Twinning Spell.’ If a mage casts it on a child still in the womb, that child will split in two, and if all goes well, a set of healthy twins will be born.”
“What do you mean, ‘if all goes well?’”
King Paulson lowered his voice, growing more serious. “All spells can have setbacks and ominous results, young lady. The Twinning Spell is more ominous than most. To make it successful, the spell must be used early in the child’s development—no more than two months in. This prevents agitation inside the mother and gives the unborn children enough time to develop on their own separately.”
“What if it’s done after two months?”
The King shook his head. “It does not bear mentioning, my dear. Trust me on that.”
“Sounds so risky. Why would anyone want to have it done?”
“Why, to have two bundles of joy, of course. But since it’s risky, there are precautions. A mage must be certified to have permission to do this spell, which requires several tests over a year’s time. I hear they’re quite difficult, and very few can pass them all. This makes the Twinning Spell very expensive, but it’s worth it to ensure the spell is done right. It requires a blood sacrifice, after all.”
“Blood sacrifice?” Callie asked, growing pale.
“Indeed, we cannot forget those. A large dog will do, or two or three small ones. Or you could use cats, cattle, snakes, rats—it matters not where the blood is from, only that it’s fresh and there’s plenty of it. In many nations, that’s the main reason why the spell is outlawed. Here in Lonsaran, it’s permitted but never, ever allowed to be done recklessly.”
“I take it punishments are stiff?”
“How does fifty years in prison sound? An offender can either take that or a lifetime banishment from the kingdom.”
“That’s stiff, all right. I also take it the spell doesn’t work on adults?”
The King grew solemn and stared at his unfinished pile of beans and carrots. “I wish it didn’t, my dear, but it does—and that’s another reason why it’s outlawed in most nations. When done on an adult, the spell does exactly what it’s meant to do: It splits the person in two … and the results can be catastrophic.”
Callie leaned forward, fascinated. “Do they come out all weird and gross? Like, missing limbs or half of their faces?”
The King chuckled. “No, it’s not like that, thank God! There are no physical abnormalities, but in the mind, there are problems.” He thumped a fist on his chest, reflecting the belief that the mind resided in the heart. “When a man or lady is made into twins, their minds are shattered like mirrors, and each individual only has pieces of the whole. I’ve seen many cases of this, and they are not pretty. Each twin is capable of feeling only certain emotions and can recall only certain memories. I’ve seen men who only felt happiness even if they were kicked or punched; I’ve seen men who couldn’t stop c
rying even if they were soothed. I once had a man laugh at every single thing I said to him, and another who rambled obscenities. Twins made outside of the womb are broken people, my dear, and to break someone like that is, I think, a greater sin than cold-blooded murder.”
“But that doesn’t happen to an unborn child?”
“No. A child early in development has yet to have a mind. After all, do you remember growing in your mother’s womb? If an unborn is split well before it can think, then a mind is formed separately and whole within each twin. The twins then grow up perfectly healthy as if magic wasn’t needed at all.”
“Do you have a twin, Your Majesty?”
“Ha! If I did, we’d constantly argue about who popped out first because of the ‘small’ matter of royal succession. No, my dear, the royal family does not do the Twinning Spell. Kings and emperors from long ago have had twins, and without fail they waged war and committed murder to win theirs crowns. I like my head where it is now, thank you.”
“Good point. I think I’d fight with a twin sister all the time.”
“I like honesty in a person. Now—” The King clapped his hands. “Nearly every night I throw a ball for the peerage so they don’t all slay each other out of boredom. Have you ever been to a ball before, Calista?”
“I’ve only ever seen them from a distance.”
“Then tonight’s your lucky night. I would like to invite you both to my ball which starts at six strikes of the bell. Gerald, please escort the guests to wardrobe to have them prepped. Oh, and please ask Count Striver and his wife to give them ballroom lessons, and find them quarters for the night.”
“Your Majesty,” Sean said, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice, “this is most generous of you, but really, it’s too much.”
“Nonsense, my boy! Why, I think my gift to you is too little! Alpha is one of my dearest friends, so I must do you something suitable for bringing him back. You shall be handsomely paid and quickly registered, of course, and a night’s worth of cherished memories shall do you good.” The King reached over and grasped Sean’s forearm. “Just don’t pass around Alpha’s name to my subjects—or Jonas, whatever you wish to call him. Keep it between us, understood?”
Sean nodded and flicked his eyes to the palace staff in the room. The King’s servants must be loyal indeed to be trusted with sensitive information that not even the peerage should know.
Gerald the butler escorted the guests into the hall and led them past gatherings of curious nobles. Sean’s heart sank further down his torso with every step, for he feared that Callie would get destroyed at this ball. Seeing the King was risky enough, but dancing and mingling with hundreds of nobles will put Callie’s mastery of high-society manners to the test. Fortunately, the King sensed that he and Callie would need lessons on ballroom etiquette and made arrangements, but Sean planned on having a serious talk with Callie before letting her be by herself.
She may not believe there could be any danger in a palace ballroom full of nobles and servants—especially compared to some of the places she’s been in as a clanswoman—but she would be dead wrong.
Fifteen
In the expansive wardrobe office, Sean and Callie were once again given critical assessments over their attire by the royal tailor. Sean was given a new jacket and a blue brocaded waistcoat along with a necktie with a golden clasp, and Callie was led away into a closet where she and her newly minted ladies-in-waiting would pick out her numerous articles of clothing.
A noble couple soon arrived who introduced themselves as Count Roy Striver and his wife, Janice. “We have agreed to prepare you for tonight’s ball,” Count Striver said, and he chuckled. “This is what I get for being in His Majesty’s debt.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Sean replied.
“You simply must tell us all about you!” Lady Striver said. “Everyone is buzzing about you, and you simply must give us first dibs!”
Very uncomfortable and unsure of what all he should say, Sean related his false background of being a shoemaker’s son who got conscripted and had seen battle. It took some imagination, but he managed to downplay Master Cypher’s role in his story and emphasized his relationship with Count Guyver, who had sent Sean and Callie to be his representatives in the palace.
“You’re saying Count Erik couldn’t be bothered to see the King himself?” Lady Striver asked. “How dreadful! Shame on that man!”
“I beg your pardon, madam, but I disagree,” Sean said. “Count Guyver has lost his leg in the line of duty, and the war has claimed his brother and two uncles. In the face of such hardship, he only wishes to mourn for his family in peace in his city home. We should respect his desire for solitude in this rough time.”
She glared at him a moment before lowering her shoulders. “Well, your argument is sound, but I still think he should have made some time tonight to see the King personally. Still, perhaps he is not as dreadful as I made him out to be.”
“Hear, hear,” Count Striver said, and he gestured to Gerald, who had been lingering like a shadow. “Please show Master McAlister to his rooms. Master McAlister, please show my wife nothing but courtesy during your lessons. We shall rendezvous in the main hall.”
After a quick stop to the palace’s keymaster, Sean was led to a spacious room with a queen-sized four-poster shrouded by satin sheets and gossamer curtains. Lady Striver quickly proceeded to show him how to make greetings and respond to inquiries, and although Sean knew many of them already, he played ignorant and did it well enough not to arouse suspicion.
Lady Striver then gave him dancing lessons, which made Sean very self-conscious. Lady Striver was already prepared for the ball and looked resplendent in her gown of white taffeta with blue lace, with a broad crinoline holding up her skirt and petticoats, plus a bodice cut so low that Sean had to imagine nails keeping his eyes in place so he wouldn’t stare at her cleavage. The only thing about her he didn’t care for was the copious makeup job. In Lonsaran, it was customary for a noblewoman to attend a ball with white pancake powder covering nearly every square centimeter of her face and neck, along with heavy mascara and red blush on her cheeks. It was so that an older woman—like Lady Striver with her fortyish years—could hide her age lines from her dance partners. Younger women were also expected to cover themselves up out of respect for their elders, which meant that Callie’s youthful skin would soon receive the same treatment.
Once Lady Striver concluded that Sean won’t make as ass of himself on the ballroom floor, they retreated to the main hall to await their partners. Sean couldn’t help but glue his eyes on the central staircase, watching noble couples on their way to the ball as he nervously anticipated Callie’s arrival.
“She should have begun preparations sooner,” Lady Striver said. “With any luck, we shall only be fashionably late. If we are just ‘late,’ I’ll hold you responsible, boy.”
Sean wanted to respond with a wisecrack. He instead smiled and said, “It won’t come to that, my lady. I am certain your husband likes punctuality as much as you do.”
Lady Striver scoffed and went to retrieve a flute of champagne from a passing waiter.
Twenty nerve-wracking minutes later, Callie and Count Striver finally arrived and walked down the stairs with arms linked … and the sight of her made Sean forget to breathe. She was a vision, her gown similar to Lady Striver’s but with a peach corset and lace. Her dark hair was tied up into a bundle with a complex array of hairpins, complimented with a silver tiara. Sean personally preferred the green dress Lady Amber had given her, but with this evening gown making Callie the perfect picture of beauty and class, it was hard to imagine anything going wrong tonight.
And then he winced when Callie tripped halfway down the stairs. Fortunately, as if through the grace of God, she recovered herself, and Count Striver kept a firm hold on her arm to keep her from tumbling down. “Damn shoes,” she muttered loudly enough for Sean
to hear, and somehow adjusted her footwear even though they were hidden beneath her voluminous skirts, spread out by a crinoline.
“Are you okay?” Sean asked as he bowed to his partner.
“’Twas nothing,” she replied with a dismissive wave. Upon a closer look, Sean was pleasantly surprised to see that her makeup job was mostly unchanged. No pancake powder covered her face to conceal what few scars she had, and a little blush enhanced the natural rosiness of her cheeks. He was a little afraid the gossipmongers would point out how Callie didn’t fit in with the rest of the ladies, but when her ruby smile made his heart flutter, he found he didn’t care what anyone else thought of her appearance.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Count Striver said, kissing his wife’s cheek even though his lips didn’t quite reach the skin. He then gave Sean the key to Callie’s private quarters so he could escort her to them later. “Shall we be off?”
The noble couple started down the hall with the younger guests in tow. As Callie’s satin-gloved hand rested on his forearm, Sean struggled to speak, half-afraid he’d say the wrong thing.
Callie leaned over and whispered, “I didn’t think I’d like this gown, but just for tonight, I sort of do. What do you think?”
“It makes me, uh …”
“Yes?”
“It makes me realize how beautiful you are. You’ll certainly turn heads for being more than a stranger.”
“Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.”
Sean politely smiled, but underneath his pleasant face was a pang of sorrow and regret. What he had initially meant to say was that Callie made him remember his mother’s portrait in Bailey Manor. Lilith Bailey did not look as feral and spirited as Callie, but the colors of her portrait’s dress were similar to Callie’s, and the memory left him a little homesick.
The Hunt for the Three Roses Page 23
