Clara

by Suzanna J. Linton

  “He wouldn't.”

  “No, I suppose not. But can we trust her to see what's wrong with her own eyes?”

  Silence fell as the men pondered the problem. Finally, a small half-smile tugged on Jarrett's lips. “Lets see what happens when she sees the truth on her own.”

  “Jarrett, you can't reveal yourself to her. Not until we're sure it's safe.”

  “I'm the Captain of the Guard, Bruin. And I know the King is going to put me in charge of her personal security. I don't need to reveal myself.”

  Clara ate most of the breakfast, surprising herself as she had had very little appetite since Emmerich left, and began perusing some of the papers on nearby desks. Equations and diagrams covered dozens of sheets of parchment. None of it made any sense to her. Finally, she turned to the bookshelves. The first few cases contained more volumes on magic but eventually she hit upon one containing books of saints' lives, fairy tales, romances, and legends. She pulled down a large red volume and began to page through it, pausing in wonder at the colorful illustrations. At Dwervin or Orlind there had not been anything nearly so fine.

  The doors opened and she hurriedly stuffed the book back into its place. Turning, she put her hands behind her back. Marduk smiled at her as he entered.

  “My apologies, my lady,” he said, “but I should have made it clear.” He gestured around the room. “You are free to look at whatever book you like.”

  Clara nodded her thanks. Movement behind Marduk caught her eye and she felt her heart thud heavily. Gavin, chained, filthy, and thinner than she remembered, walked into the room, accompanied by several soldiers. His shoulders and head slumped heavily.

  Clara ran forward and flung her arms around him, squeezing him tightly as tears pricked her eyes.

  “Clara,” whispered Gavin, his voice rough and low, full of joy and longing and something else she couldn't identify. She wanted to call it sorrow.

  “You must have much to discuss,” Marduk said when Clara stepped back. “There is a desk with writing utensils over here that you may use.” He indicated the desk nearest the fireplace. “Forgive me, but I must have the soldiers remain here as guards. I have a matter to attend to and will return shortly.”

  He left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

  Clara took Gavin by the arm and led him over to the desk. The soldiers followed at a respectful distance, spreading loosely around the room in a semicircle.

  “Clara,” whispered Gavin, “how did you come here? Were you kidnapped?”

  Taking one of the pieces of parchment, Clara scribbled a summarized version of her adventure over the last few days. Gavin shook his head sadly.

  “I don't understand that, either, sweetling. The King of Tier has long courted an alliance with Emmerich. Perhaps he has begun to lose patience. What of Emmerich? Is he well?”

  What little happiness she had drained away.

  “What is it?” He gripped her free hand. “Is he dead?”

  Clara shook her head.

  “Is he going to die?”

  She wrote, “I believe so.”

  Gavin swore. They stood in silence for a long moment.

  Finally, she wrote, “You told me Marduk killed Monica, but I've learned that Emmerich did. He confirmed it to me himself. Why did you lie?”

  He sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I never liked hiding it from you to begin with. Monica and Emmerich were in love, that's the truth. But when Marduk arrived, Emmerich became jealous. He thought Marduk was trying to court Monica away from him. He wasn't of course, but Emmerich had lost everything. I suppose he was afraid of losing her. And, aye, he never spoke much of his family but it doesn't take a genius to figure out they're all gone.

  “He also believed that Marduk was a part of a plot to overthrow the King. That was what he had me looking into, but I could never find enough evidence. There was a plot but it always seemed the conspirator was three steps ahead. I couldn't confirm who it was. Emmerich tried to get Monica to force King Tristan to dismiss Marduk. She refused. Repeatedly. He lost his temper and killed her. Emmerich blames Marduk for her death.”

  “But what of King Tristan?”

  “An assassin. Whoever the conspirator had been hired one to slip into the king's chambers the night Emmerich murdered Monica. Marduk had a premonition but by the time he got to the king, it was too late. He immediately went to Monica's chambers and that's when he came upon Emmerich over her body.

  “I went with Emmerich because I was sure of Marduk's villainy as well, that he had been the conspirator all along. But we've done things, Clara. There were Northern Lords he had me assassinate in their beds so we could claim their men. There were coffers we raided so that we could house and feed his growing army.” He took a deep breath. “Now I'm not so sure if perhaps Emmerich hadn't been the conspirator all along and had merely hired me to direct attention from himself. But Marduk's quick actions that night foiled whatever plan he had, if it had been him all along.” He looked down. “Emmerich's the one who’s been spreading the rumor about Marduk experimenting on people. He told Asher to lie in his report, that they came across such creatures.”

  Clara looked at him, feeling as if the world was breaking apart under her feet. She could not reconcile this Emmerich with the one she had thought she'd known. Then, she remembered him screaming in her face and that horrible moment where she feared for her life, and, so, she wondered.

  Finally, she wrote, “You haven't explained why you lied.”

  “When I reported to Emmerich there was a Seer in Dwervin's household, I was instructed to befriend you.”

  Clara flinched in horror.

  He took her hands as best as his manacles would allow. “But as I grew to know you—”

  She snatched her hands away and backed away from him, refusing to meet his eye.

  “Clara,” he said, “as I grew to know you, you began to mean more to me than anything. Believe me when I say I do love you. I asked you to marry me that day because I truly do love you. Once we were on the road to Candor, I was going to tell you the truth and we were going to run away together. But Emmerich guessed my plan and that's why he forbade you to go with me.”

  Clara's mind flew back to that evening, when she mysteriously sleepwalked, and when she thought Emmerich was going to kiss her. She remembered his eyes, dark and intense. She remembered the feel of his hands on her face. Clara reached up and touched her cheeks, feeling her heart begin to break. How could she, a Seer, have been wrong all this time? But, could Marduk be forcing Gavin to lie to her? Her mind swam with the possibilities.

  “Clara.” Gavin was in front of her, reaching for her, but she turned away, shaking her head. Turning to one of the guards, she pointed at him and made wild shooing gestures. She didn't care if she looked like a madwoman. She only wanted Gavin out of her sight.

  None of this can be true, she insisted to herself. But as she looked again at Gavin, whose eyes seemed to pity her, she felt her faith in him and Emmerich shrink even more.

  Two of the guards took Gavin by the arms to lead him away. He went without resistance. She turned away from him, staring at the surface of the desk as she listened to them leave.

  But just as she heard the doors open, Gavin called over his shoulder, “No matter what happens, never doubt that I love you.”

  After shuffling of chain and feet, the doors closed and with a voiceless gasp, Clara began to cry. She pressed both hands to her mouth as she shook with sobs.

  The doors behind her opened again and after a few moments, someone turned her around and enveloped her in an embrace. The person rubbed her back in soothing circles. She pulled away enough to look up.

  Marduk looked down at her. “My dear, are you all right?”

  Horrified, she stepped out of his embrace and rubbed her tears away even as more sobs threatened.

  Marduk started to say something but changed his mind at the last moment. Licking his lips, he said, “Your rooms are ready. You must be very tired.”


  She nodded and took his arm when he offered it.

  He didn't speak as they walked, going through two or three wings and up flights of stairs. In a dim part of her mind, she felt amazed at the immensity of the Royal Palace.

  Finally, they came to a set of large double doors, decorated with carvings of roses and lilies. Four guards flanked them.

  “These are your rooms,” Marduk said as two of the guards opened them.

  They stepped into an opulent sitting room. The floor was grey-white marble overlaid with rugs woven with pinks, whites, pale greens and lavender. The walls were painted in beautiful murals depicting forests, streams, and waterfalls in which frolicked unicorns, nymphs, sprites, and fairies. The furniture was done in the same colors as the rugs only a few shades darker and plump cushions were scattered on the couches and chairs.

  To her right was a large archway in which hung rose-colored curtains tied back with golden ropes. Beyond the archway stood a canopied bed finer than even the one in Orlind. To her left was a closed door and she could only assume it led to the bathing room.

  “These are only part of your rooms, actually,” said Marduk. “Several rooms are yours, forming a private wing of sorts, for as long as you choose to stay here.”

  Clara stared at him in disbelief. What need did she have for an entire wing?

  “But, I'm afraid it isn't entirely ready. Your library isn't finished, for example. But that's if you wish to stay, of course. You don't have to decide yet.” He dropped her arm, though he seemed reluctant. “I will leave you to rest now. I've given strict orders that you be not disturbed. This evening, I will send a woman to act as your lady's maid. Will that suit you, my lady?”

  Numb, Clara nodded.

  “Then until tomorrow, my lady.” He took her hand and kissed it before leaving.

  The sound of the door latching seemed loud in the lush room. A wave of fatigue washed over her and she stumbled into the bathing room. It, too, was beautifully appointed in creams and blues, but she barely noticed as she stripped off her grimy clothing and washed in a basin.

  A thick white robe hung from hook. She wrapped herself in it before leaving the room to go into the bedchamber. Clara rarely slept in the nude but she felt so tired, suddenly, that she didn't care as she shucked off the robe, climbed the steps, and rolled in between the coverlet and thick feather mattress, falling asleep almost immediately.

  Chapter Thirty

  When Clara woke again, daylight streamed through the bedchamber window. She watched motes of dust floating in the shafts of light, feeling well rested. She must have slept all the preceding day and night, which seemed odd but she put it down as stress. Sitting up, she found she was still naked and she pulled the cover up over her chest against the chill of the air.

  A footfall in the archway drew her attention and she saw a young woman, with hair the color of straw, standing there.

  “My lady,” she said, “my name is Katerina. I am your new maid.” She curtsied. “Are you ready to rise, my lady?”

  Clara nodded, though she made no move to get up. She looked around for the robe from the day before.

  “Allow me to choose your clothes for today, my lady, and I will help you dress.”

  Katerina went to a large, white wardrobe and selected a bright blue gown, laying it on the bed. She selected several undergarments, including the corset so popular in the South, and laid those out.

  “Does this color please you?” she asked, indicating the dress.

  Clara nodded and slowly got out of the bed. As Katerina began to help her, she said, “My lady, though I know you must still be tired from your ordeal—you were sleeping very soundly when I came here last night with these clothes—the king has ordered for the Royal Tailors to attend you. The clothing in the wardrobe was given by ladies of the Court who did not need them, but her ladyship will need a suitable wardrobe of her own.

  “Then, his Majesty has requested the pleasure of your company at the noon meal. Please, take a deep breath and hold onto the bed post.”

  Clara wrapped her hands around the wood and took a deep breath.

  As soon as she did, Katerina tightened the corset, tying it tightly.

  “Is that too tight, my lady? You may release your breath. I'm told the corset is not generally worn in the North.”

  The corset was quite tight but Clara thought she could manage. She shook her head and stepped into the dress as Katerina held it open for her. More strings were tied in the back.

  “After the noon meal, her ladyship is free to do whatever pleases her. Perhaps a tour of the gardens?” She came around to stand in front of Clara and adjusted the bodice of the dress. “There also has been proposed a ball, to be held in your honor. Won't that be lovely, my lady?”

  Clara looked around for something to write upon, since she had no idea what a “ball” was.

  “I believe you are searching for this?” Katerina picked up a slate and piece of chalk from a nearby table.

  Clara took it with a smile of thanks and wrote out her question.

  “A ball, my lady, is a formal gathering where people eat, drink, and dance.”

  “I don't know how to dance,” she wrote.

  “I'm sure we can find someone to teach you. Balls are so wonderful. I know you will like it.”

  She felt skeptical but nodded.

  “If her ladyship will follow me, there is a breakfast laid out for you in the parlor.”

  Clara found herself to be just as hungry as she was yesterday and ate every crumb of what was put before her. The dishes were cleared away and a servant called to remove them to the kitchens.

  “If her ladyship will come with me,” said Katerina.

  Clara gathered up a handkerchief, the slate, and chalk and followed her maid out of the room. She looked around with avid interest as they left the wing. Glancing over her shoulder, she was elated to find no guards followed.

  They passed people who made no acknowledgment of her, going down into the lower levels of the Palace where there was more traffic. They came into a wing where they passed rooms where people were being fitted for shoes, seeing hairdressers, and meeting with tailors.

  They came into the very last room, where several men in matching scarlet and white garb awaited them.

  “Lady Clara,” said Katerina, “the Royal Tailors.”

  And so began one of the strangest mornings Clara had ever endured. She was shown dozens of bolts of cloth in a variety of shades, patterns, and kinds. Every inch of her was measured and re-measured, with and without her corset. When the tailors learned she enjoyed riding, a whole new set of bolts were brought out. Her mind swam with it all and, in the middle of choosing cloth for her ball gown, she thought, But I might not even stay here.

  After the tailors, they visited the cobblers and hairdressers. The hairdressers cooed over the length and thickness of her hair and they intricately styled it, piling it in braids on her head. By the time Katerina led her away, Clara was sick of the whole idea of clothing and appearance and wouldn't have cared if Marduk turned her out into the street wearing nothing but a potato sack.

  She also felt hot and out of breath. Her back pained her but she tried to show no discomfort as Katerina led her down the hall, chattering about something.

  The hall tilted, all of a sudden, and Clara felt lightheaded. The floor rose up to her meet her but strong arms caught her around the waist.

  “My lady,” cried her maid, coming to kneel beside her. “Are you all right?”

  “She looks ready to faint,” said a masculine voice. “Is there a couch nearby?”

  “Right this way.”

  The man lifted her in his arms and followed Katerina back into the wing, going into an empty fitting room. He laid her on a fainting couch and the incline helped her breathe a little better. The man, who she saw now was a soldier from his scarlet tunic and mail, knelt beside her. A golden double-headed eagle covered the chest of the tunic.

  “Are you all right,
my lady?” he asked.

  She nodded and smiled at him.

  “This is Lady Clara,” said Katerina, “newly arrived. His Majesty rescued her from men trying to sell her to the Tieran King.”

  “I have heard of her.” The soldier took her hand and kissed it. “My lady, I am Captain Jarrett, of His Majesty's Royal Guard, and I've been apprised of your situation. In fact, I came here searching for you, to speak with you on the particulars of your personal guard. My lady, if I may be so bold, but you are of the North, yes?”

  Clara nodded. Jarrett smiled, laugh lines crinkling around the corners of his lips and eyes. He had tanned skin, white teeth, and black hair.

  “Then, my lady, it's safe to say you aren't used to the, ah, Southern fashions?”

  He means the corset, Clara thought, and she shook her head.

  “Katerina, I believe you may need to make some adjustments for the sake of her ladyship's health.”

  “Yes, thank you, Captain Jarrett.” Katerina frowned at the soldier but he ignored her.

  “I will be waiting in the hall, then, my lady.” Jarrett stood, bowed, and left, closing the door behind him.

  Katerina helped her to her feet and neither of them spoke as she loosened the corset.

  “I am sorry, my lady,” she finally said after tying up the dress and coming around. “I should have realized it needed to be looser.”

  She looked upset and Clara gave her a little hug to show she was forgiven. Katerina looked surprised but returned the embrace before opening the door, allowing Jarrett to come in.

  “My lady,” he said, “I understand you're to meet the king for the noon meal. It is nearly that time. I will be happy to escort you, and we can talk along the way.” He offered his arm and Clara took it.

  As they left the wing and walked down the hall, he said, “As I said, as Captain of the Guard, I am in charge of your personal guard, my lady. If you feel threatened or frightened at any time, please tell me. I'm afraid you'll have to tell me or one of my lieutenants when you plan to leave the Palace, so I can make the proper arrangements. As things stand now, you will only have guards at your chamber door.”