One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6)

by Pope, Christine

He was my brother and I loved him, and we were far closer than many siblings, as we’d only had one another as a bulwark against our mother’s harsh tongue, but there were some things I could not imagine myself saying to him. Especially not what I had seen in my heart when I looked deep within it the night before, and realized that Sorthannic Sedassa could not make me truly happy. Not that I expected such a thing of the Hierarch, either. In that case, though, it would be a match made for politics, and no one truly expects love to come from such a union.

  And of course I could never confess to Torric that, somewhere deep inside my soul, I hoped perhaps my case might be different.

  Now, though, his face darkened, and he said, “I will not lie and say I am not happy to hear this, for of course it is great news, much more than I could have ever hoped for. But I also do not want to think of you sacrificing yourself for this, throwing away something you insisted you wanted. Just two days ago you stood in this very room and claimed you could never marry the Hierarch. So I think you may forgive me for wondering whence has come this sea change.”

  I lifted my goblet and drank deeply of the water therein, then poured myself some more. “Then let us say I thought the matter over with some care, and realized perhaps Lord Sorthannic and I would not suit quite as well as I had first thought.”

  Torric let out a sigh at that reply. His dark eyes scanned my face, and at last he gave a reluctant nod. “And somehow I fear that is all I will hear from you on the matter, unless Ashara winkles it out of you.”

  Despite everything, I could not help but smile, as she had said almost those same words just a few days earlier about her husband. “Perhaps. For you know, Torric, there are some things that women only wish to confide in one another. Is it not enough that I have agreed to the marriage?”

  “It would be…if I were certain you were not sacrificing your happiness to do so. I don’t want you to feel as if you were forced to this conclusion.”

  “I most certainly was not,” I said stoutly. “I came to it on my own, and therefore you should accept my decision and question me no further.”

  He fell silent then, studying me as if he sought to discover the truth in my face. At last he said, “Then have I your leave to summon the Keshiaari ambassadors and tell them the news?”

  “You do. I am sure they will be pleased.”

  “That is an understatement.” Unlike those ambassadors, my brother did not look pleased at all. His brow was still puckered, as if he were worrying at the problem in his mind, trying to discover exactly what it was that had compelled me to accept the Hierarch’s suit.

  “Do not look so troubled, brother,” I said, again taking care to keep my tone light. “Have I not always said that I wished I could go upon an adventure? I cannot think of a greater adventure than becoming the Hierarch’s wife.”

  * * *

  Of course the word spread through the palace like wildfire through a summer-parched meadow. I believe my brother did have time to speak with the ambassadors in private before they learned of my decision through less than official channels, but even so it was a close call. Ashara came to me within the hour, eyes wide and disbelieving.

  “After everything you said just the other day, you have thrown off Lord Sorthannic to accept the Hierarch after all?” she demanded, after unceremoniously shooing all of her ladies-in-waiting out into the hallway, where they would be forced to be precisely that in deed as well as in name.

  “Yes,” I said wearily. My head had begun to ache, and I wished I could hide in my chambers until it was time to depart for Keshiaar. That day, though, was still some time off, as I knew my brother would not permit me to undertake the sea passage until calmer waters prevailed, most likely sometime in early Averil.

  “But…why?”

  “Because I realized I do not love Lord Sorthannic the same way you love my brother. I wish with all my heart that things were different, but as they are not, would it not be false of me to cling to the Duke of Marric’s Rest, merely as a way of avoiding a political marriage?”

  Quietly she sat and appeared to digest that statement. After a pause, she said, “But you seemed happy enough with him — ”

  “I was. Or rather, I thought I was. He is a good man. I cannot dispute that. And because he is a good and worthy man, he should have a wife who is as besotted with him as he is with her. Don’t you see?” I added, and sank down on the divan next to Ashara, holding her gaze, hoping that she would see the truth in my eyes. “It is because of how I see you look at my brother, and the way he looks at you, that I know something of what two people can share. And now that I have such knowledge, I cannot ignore it. I know I do not feel that way toward Lord Sorthannic.”

  “And you — you think you will feel this way about the Hierarch?” Her tone was dubious, even as she turned from me slightly so she could retrieve his portrait from where I had left it sitting on one of the tables flanking the divan where we sat.

  “No, I am not that foolish. But at least he seems to share some of my interests, as he is a man of learning. It is more of a basis than many such matches have.”

  She nodded absently, staring down at the portrait. Then her fingers tightened around the little jeweled frame. “But it is so very far away,” she said quietly, and I thought I heard the quiver of tears behind that near-murmur.

  “It is,” I agreed, feeling a certain tightness in my own throat. For I had always wished for a sister, and now had one, and soon I would lose her, along with everything — everyone — I knew and loved. It would have been one thing for the wife of the Duke of Marric’s Rest to come visit her relations in the capital, and quite another for the consort of the Hierarch of Keshiaar to make such a journey. A thousand miles and more. Once I had made the journey to that faraway land, I did not believe I would ever come back.

  “But I think I understand,” she said at last, and now her tone was firmer, that hint of tears gone. Yes, she was my dear sister-in-law, but she was also the Empress of Sirlende. She had learned quite a few things these past few months. “You do not wish to be false to the Duke, but in breaking the engagement, you have also removed the one impediment to your marriage with the Hierarch. So it would not be truthful of you to continue to deny the match.”

  “That is precisely it,” I replied, relieved that she understood so clearly. “And perhaps you can pass on that insight to my brother, as I fear he believes I have gone mad, even if it is a madness that suits his purposes.”

  She actually laughed a little at that, then lifted her shoulders. “I will do what I can. But I think as long as you know the truth in your heart, that is the most important thing.”

  Yes, I had seen that truth…or at least what I perceived to be that truth. I could only hope that I would not wake on the morrow, and discover that it had changed once again.

  * * *

  But I did not. Oh, yes, I ached for the hurt I had caused Thani, and the realization that I would not be his wife twinged as well. Under that, though, was an odd sense of relief, as if I had somehow known all along that our match was never truly meant to be.

  And after that, I did not have much time for rumination, for of course that evening before dinner Ambassador Sel-Trelazar had to pay his respects and shower me with praise for my discernment, my beauty, my graciousness in accepting his master’s suit. My mother even paid me a visit soon afterward, almost happy for once, clearly pleased that I had made the correct decision at last in agreeing to be the queen of a far-off land, rather than stay here and be the wife of a duke…especially a duke whose mother had the ungracious temerity to be a commoner.

  So much planning, so much to do! The junior ambassador was dispatched with the news at once, to return to his homeland so that preparations could be made there against my arrival. He did not look overly pleased to be sent away so quickly and required to abandon the pleasures of the Sirlendian court for a treacherous sea journey in mid-Fevrere, but there was no help for it. It was his role to go ahead, and then Ambassador Sel-Trelazar a
nd the rest of their retinue would accompany me once that same voyage was deemed safe enough for me to attempt.

  In the meantime, the ambassador took it upon himself to instruct me in the Keshiaari tongue. It was difficult, but not impossible, for I already knew the common tongue spoken in both the lands of North and South Eredor, and Purth and Farendon, and I had taught myself Selddish as well, though no one beyond the borders of that secretive land bothered with it. Sel-Trelazar seemed pleased with my progress, and said that by the time I disembarked in Tir el-Alisaad, the capital of Keshiaar, I should be speaking his language like a native.

  More than that, a new wardrobe was ordered, for the ambassador assured me that my gowns of heavy velvet and brocade would not do well at all in his homeland’s warm climate, and so garments made up to his specifications were constructed for me. I wondered at them, at the gossamer-fine shirts, meant to be layered under the short-sleeved tunics of thin silk, edged in costly embroidery, with billowy trousers to be worn underneath. I had blushed at first to even contemplate wearing such a thing, but then I realized that truly they were more practical — and comfortable — than my layers of hose and petticoats and knickers, not to mention the bone reinforcements that had lately begun to be stitched into the bodices of gowns. All this I gazed at, and wondered how truly different things must be in Keshiaar, for their garments to be so unlike ours.

  I already knew something of that land’s histories and customs, for of course I had studied those amongst reading books on North and South Eredor, and Farendon and Purth as well. Never had I thought I would travel to that distant realm, let alone become wife to Keshiaar’s ruler, but at least I was not completely unfamiliar with its traditions. No complicated nobility, with its layers of barons and earls and dukes. Only the Hierarch, and below him what seemed like an uncounted number of princes, all of them claiming that title because of their connection to the royal family of Kel-Alisaad.

  A hot, inhospitable place, but one with vast mineral wealth. And not all dry and dusty, for the great river Al-sheer wound through the country, emptying into the same Carulan Sea that touched the coast of Sirlende, albeit many, many leagues away. The winter was their welcome time, when the rains would come and all would be green, if only briefly.

  This I recalled, and so much more, but of course reading such things in a book could not match experiencing them in reality. As the days ticked down and the preparations for my departure continued apace, I found myself seized by an ever-increasing restlessness. I wanted to see these things for myself, to taste those strange fruits and the spices that grew in that warm, unfamiliar clime, to see the great city of white marble where the Keshiaari court made its home. All these things occupied my thoughts, but none more than the ruler of that land. What would his voice sound like? His laugh? Was he grave and quiet, or possessed of a teasing humor, like my brother? Of course, when that thought passed through my mind, I realized that the Hierarch probably did not have much to tease about, what with the manner in which he had lost his wife. But still, my mind kept casting forward in time, and I became impatient with the daily routine of my present life. It was as if, now that I had made the irrevocable decision, I only wished to be gone. Yes, there was the interminable packing of those items I could bring with me, and the gifting of those things I could not — Ashara had no use for my gowns, as our coloring was not at all similar, but they were gratefully accepted by her stepsister Shelynne — but still it seemed as if the time was passing more and more slowly, dragging out far longer than it should.

  At last, some ten days into Averil, the harbor-master at Marten’s Point came to the palace, gravely informing my brother that the seas had calmed, and it was, in his estimation, safe for the Crown Princess to make her sea journey. I trembled at the news, for as much as I had longed for the weary waiting to be over, now that the moment was here, I realized there was no going back. Very soon, everything would change.

  The night before my retinue would leave for Marten’s Point and the great ship that awaited us there, Torric held a great feast in my honor. Lord Hein made sure all my favorite dishes were served, for of course there was a very good chance I would never taste them again. Looking on everyone, all those faces I had known since my childhood, I found myself having to hold back tears. How dear they all seemed to me now, even blustery Lord Keldryn and my cold, sharp-tongued mother. But I had committed myself to this thing, and I would see it through to the best of my ability.

  So I smiled, and ate until I felt near to bursting, and exchanged blithe words with my brother and dear Ashara, now growing quite large with child, and went to bed that night knowing it would be the last time I would look out the window of my suite at the lights of Iselfex, or see moonlight reflected in the waters of the River Silth. I did not weep, for the Crown Princess of Sirlende could not been seen embarking on a journey to her new homeland with puffy eyelids and pale cheeks.

  And the next morning I embraced my brother and my sister-in-law for the last time, as the doctors had deemed it unwise for her to make such a journey, and I could not ask my brother to leave her alone, if even for a few days. So we made our farewells, and offered brave smiles that probably fooled no one. And after I dutifully offered a cheek to my mother’s cold kiss, bowing my head as she instructed me to always behave as befitted a princess of Sirlende, I at last rode away to Marten’s Point, the harbor where I would take ship and leave my homeland behind forever.

  Chapter 4

  The scent of salt caught me first, wild and unknown, and with it came a wind unlike anything I had felt in Iselfex, rough and cool. That wind whipped around us and tugged at my carefully arranged curls, seeming to promise the one thing I had never experienced in all my life.

  Adventure.

  Not that we had met any on the road, of course. Ours was a large party, some fifty strong, although only a little more than half that number would actually be sailing to Keshiaar. Most of them were servants and guards who had traveled with Ambassador Sel-Trelazar. I had my own small retinue, four women servants to attend my wardrobe and such, although Arlyn was not one of them. She had tearfully told me that she could not bear to leave Sirlende, especially for such a “dreadful hot place, begging Your Highness’s pardon,” and of course I would never force her to make such a sacrifice. I wished her all the world’s luck, and made sure that after I left, she would have a good place in the household of the Duchess of Gahm, Ashara’s great good friend.

  Torric had wanted me to bring along several ladies-in-waiting as well, but I declined, thinking that if Arlyn had not wanted to make the journey, I certainly would not ask such a thing of the daughters of our barons or earls. No, the attendants I had with me were women without any close family, those who had said they did not mind leaving their homeland, as they had little to tie them there. With that I had to be content, although some small part of me wished for a familiar face to accompany me on this journey.

  The ship waiting for us was Sirlendian, a light, fast caravel used for plying the trade routes between Keshiaar and my homeland. It was not the vessel Ambassador Sel-Trelazar had traveled in to get here; that one had taken his junior compatriot on ahead, so that all might be prepared for my arrival. Perhaps it was foolish, but I found myself glad it was a Sirlendian ship that would bear me hence. Somehow I felt I would not quite be leaving all of my home behind, traveling thus.

  Captain Talaver was its commander, a tall man in his fifties with a beard so thick and full, he would have been right at home in Keshiaar. He bowed low when I stepped aboard, my meager retinue following behind me with my wardrobe and other necessities. “Your Highness, you do my humble ship a great honor.”

  “It is a beautiful ship, Captain,” I told him, for it was, with its bright blue sails and prow carved into the likeness of a leaping dolphin.

  “Merwinna will not steer you wrong, Your Highness. She’ll get you to Keshiaar and your betrothed before you can blink.”

  “Ah, that would be a good trick,” I replied. “The norm
al span of time will be quite sufficient, but I do thank you.”

  He laughed then, and began issuing orders for the disposal of my possessions and the dispensation of the rest of my party, and within a remarkably short span of time I was settled in a lovely cabin aft, with cunning carvings of more frolicking dolphins around the doors and a single round window — a porthole, I think he called it. Two of my attendants would sleep in there with me, while the other two had to make do in a smaller cabin one deck below us. I did not know where the ambassador and his party would be housed, but I supposed I would find out soon enough. Although the ship was not small, it was not so large that I did not think we would feel ourselves very much in one another’s laps by the time we reached Tir el-Alisaad.

  But then I heard shouting from above, and the ship seemed to move beneath me. They must be casting off. I knew I could not miss my last glimpse of Sirlende, so I bade my two attendants come with me up to the deck, where we made our way to the high platform there. From that vantage point we had an excellent view, and, more to the point, we were mostly out of the way of the crew, who were occupied with unfurling the great azure sails and maneuvering them to catch the freshening breeze from the west. That wind, I knew, would drive us all the way to Keshiaar.

  I turned then, facing the town of Marten’s Point, and the green hills which surrounded it, and the white sand of its crescent-shaped harbor. Somehow I doubted I would ever see hills that green again.

  “Goodbye, Sirlende,” I murmured. My eyes stung, and I would not begin to guess whether that was because of the sharp, salt-laden air, or because I knew I would never see my homeland — or my brother, or Ashara — ever again.

  * * *

  To my relief, I found that sea travel rather agreed with me. Oh, it took me some time to gain my sea-legs, and until then I tottered about, unsure of my balance, but at least I did not spend the entire voyage retching into a bucket the way poor Halda, one of my maids, did. Even after four days at sea, she could keep nothing down but water and hard biscuits, and so of course I excused her from her duties until we were safely back on dry land.