The Tears of the Rose
Page 13
“I shall go with Her Highness.” The White Monk’s words broke into our scene. Kir physically startled, because he’d not seen what I’d seen.
“I shall accompany Her Highness and take the midwife’s education upon myself. I see that this must be why Glorianna called upon me to journey with you at this time. It is the perfect solution.” He intoned a prayer, drawing Glorianna’s circle, and Kir was compelled to follow along.
“I shall think upon it, but this might be the best solution,” Kir reluctantly agreed.
“I am not without martial skill,” the White Monk told him, “so I shall be of double benefit to our holy mission.”
I studied him with an eye for that surprising disclosure. The White Monk, though tallish, lacked Hugh’s broad shoulders and the physique that had allowed him to wield his heavy sword so well. Though Ursula could best most fighters, even those who outweighed her, as so many did, given her long, lean frame. She always said that cleverness, agility, and speed could win out over brute strength, if the fighter trained in those aspects enough. If they can beat you with strength, don’t let the match become a contest of strength. Andi used to mimic her saying that, especially when she returned from fighting practice with a new bruise.
One of those bits of advice that sounded much easier in theory than it was in practice.
It applied to my situation. I was not the strategist Ursula was or all full of special witchy magic as it turned out Andi possessed. So I shouldn’t get into those contests. Unfortunately my only talents lay in being beautiful, and no one held contests for that. I suspected I could throw only so many temper tantrums before they lost potency.
Maybe being Glorianna’s living, dancing doll was all I had to offer. That and being mother of the next High King. Both of those things came from others, though. Still not me.
What power of your own do you possess?
“Will that be agreeable to you, Princess Amelia?” Kir startled me from my thoughts. The White Monk observed me with a cynical expression, his eyes mocking me, as if he’d followed my train of thought, that I understood I was as without power and worth as he’d accused me of being. No, it wasn’t agreeable. I didn’t want him around me with his hateful glares and taunting remarks. But I’d won my chance to find my purpose, to serve Glorianna and the High King both.
“I accept the mission.” I declared, hoping I sounded noble and self-sacrificing. “And the subpriest may accompany me, so long as he doesn’t make a nuisance of himself.” That should put him in his place. That mouth, cruelly bisected by the scar, twisted in a wry imitation of a smile. He seemed uncowed but pulled his cowl over his forehead so I could no longer see his face.
“I shall speak with King Erich, then.” Kir straightened his robes.
“No. I shall.” I moved to the door and called my ladies to attend me, effectively ending our private meeting. “It’s so good of you, High Priest Kir, to have offered my midwife the many benefits of Glorianna’s Temple. I’ll wait here for her immediate return, so she can tell me all about what she’s learned.”
Kir’s stiff bow transmitted his intense displeasure, but he murmured agreement. The White Monk inclined his cowl in my direction; a flash of his eyes seemed to hold . . . surely not approval? Then the men were gone and my ladies were fussing over me that I’d be late for the feast. But I waited for Marin’s return.
It was the right thing to do.
13
We left Ordnung with far less fanfare than our arrival had garnered. Neither my father nor my sister saw us off, sending the excuse that they were deep in strategy meetings. Ursula was likely still angry with me. Not that I cared.
I didn’t mind a bit not having to discuss anything further. We both knew where we stood.
If it pained me a little that Uorsin didn’t come to say good-bye, well, he was the High King, after all. After I succeeded in penetrating Annfwn, then he’d see me in a different light.
The caravan ostentatiously set off for Windroven. No one had yet told me the plan, which rankled somewhat. After all, we embarked on my holy mission. But when I’d spoken with Old Erich at the feast—discreetly, I thought—he’d acted vaguer than usual and told me only that he looked forward to my riding in his coach in the morning.
At first I nearly protested, because his old coach bounced something awful. It had been the one he’d used in the Great War and had never been intended for comfort. Not the opulently cushioned carriage Hugh had commissioned for one of my bridal gifts. Even as I opened my mouth, though, I caught on. Clever of Erich to make sure we’d speak privately.
The four of us jounced along, even on the perfectly planed and level road that led out of Ordnung. King Erich muttered about too much wine and appeared to settle in for a nap. Marin knitted furiously, still not speaking to me except to inquire after my well-being. The White Monk stayed true to his order and said nothing, simply sat with his cowled head bowed. Dafne should have ridden with us—at least she talked to me and usually had interesting things to say.
I really didn’t see what the point had been of me riding with Erich if we weren’t going to confer on the mission. If there would be a mission, as we were going entirely in the wrong direction. Perhaps I’d misread him and he’d simply wanted my company, as he’d said.
Well into midmorning, I sighed, thoroughly bored.
As if this had been a signal, the caravan turned off the main thoroughfare and onto a side road. Soldiers, ladies, and servants milled about. I made a move to exit the coach, if only to relieve my sore bottom for a bit, when Erich’s head snapped up and he fixed me with his aging summer-blue eyes, an older echo of Hugh’s, like when the sky seems to get worn-out and pale in the afternoon.
“So, my brave heart-daughter, you propose to cross into Annfwn.”
“Yes, my king,” I answered, sounding brave and noble, indeed. Marin cast me a black look.
“Are you certain you will be able to undertake what may be an arduous journey?”
Couldn’t be more arduous than riding in this disaster of a coach.
“I’ll be fine—my midwife assures me the babe is strong and healthy, as am I. There will be no risk.” We hadn’t actually discussed it, but there really hadn’t been an opportunity. She glowered at me but didn’t disagree.
Erich cleared his throat, an old man’s too-loud coughing harrumph, then gave me a kindly smile. “I meant more, my dear, if you’re certain you’ll be up to riding or perhaps even hiking, as it may be necessary.”
“Oh! Um . . .” Ride? Hike? Belatedly I remembered what Ursula had said about the way into Annfwn. The narrow trail. The attacks along the way.
The White Monk raised his head slightly, so his smirking travesty of a smile clearly showed. He seemed to be daring me to back out. Awful, awful man. Ursula would have been prepared for this. Okay, if pretending was my talent . . .
“Of course! I love to ride, and long walks, too.”
“Good, good.” Erich nodded with his words, though I thought I heard a muffled snort from the not-so-silent White Monk. “We would not risk you, were not the situation so dire. We must ascertain if you can indeed enter Annfwn. That is all your mission entails—attempt to cross the border and test to see whether the others in your party can or cannot—then return to Avonlidgh.”
I pushed my finger against the knot between my eyebrows. “But I should do more than that. I planned to—”
“What?” Erich barked it, sounding like the great general he’d once been. “Confront your sister, the traitor? Drag her to Ordnung by the hair? How do you propose to do that—lure her with tea cakes and a chance to play dolls?”
The reference to dolls jerked me out of my building sulk. Did he know about my personal quest to complete the doll? No. I could read in his face that he didn’t—he was simply needling me about my silly feminine ways. Erich had always been distantly kind to me, treating me with offhanded affection, much more keenly interested in what advantage I brought to Avonlidgh than anything else.
Maybe if we’d had more time together, we would have gotten to those stories. But I hadn’t liked when Hugh turned somber, as he often did when he spoke of his father, so I’d always teased and distracted him. Now, facing Erich’s contempt, I wished I’d paid more attention.
The regrets seemed to be piling up lately.
He reached over and patted my hand. “There, I’ve frightened you. I’m sorry, but you need to be more wary. You may remember Queen Andromeda as your childhood playmate, but she has changed. She has become fully Tala, a witch with possibly greater power than Salena even had, and look what she accomplished.” He shook his head.
“What did she accomplish?” I asked the question timidly, certain he wouldn’t answer, but he cocked a bushy brow at me.
“Uorsin loves to spin the tale to his own advantage, doesn’t he? You’d do well to remember that, daughter of the man who did not bother to say farewell. Did you never wonder why High King Uorsin succeeded in uniting the Twelve Kingdoms where countless others failed?”
Others like Erich himself, I suddenly realized. I shook my head. I hadn’t ever wondered. Uorsin won the Great War because he was Uorsin, hero, conqueror, and a king for the ages. So said all the songs and stories.
Erich laughed, a harsh sound not unlike Lady Zevondeth’s cackle, as if their ability to laugh had dried up with age and bitterness. “Ah, that is ever Uorsin’s talent—he plays the part and no one ever wonders how he came by it in the first place. Somehow he enlisted Salena of the Tala to his cause. He made a bargain with her—the same bargain that resulted in your sister being promised to them, more fool Uorsin for agreeing to those terms—and Salena won the Great War for him.”
“How?” My question fell into the center of the coach, sitting there heavily while they all three regarded me with varying degrees of astonishment for my ignorance.
“Magic, Princess Amelia,” Erich intoned. “Black, dark, and bloody magic. Shape-shifting and the bending of hearts and minds. None were safe. None shall be while the Tala remain a free people.”
A soft sigh as the White Monk turned his gaze out the window.
“It seems that sister of yours has inherited that legacy,” Erich continued. “Had I realized she could, we would have stopped her ever marrying Rayfe. We were fools.”
“We tried to stop it,” I pointed out. “The entire Siege at Windroven was all about preventing that marriage, but—”
Erich was shaking his head at me. “No, you pretty idiot. Not with the siege. The siege was doomed and my empty-headed son too full of noble heroism to see it. It was a waste of Avonlidgh’s great people.”
“Hugh died trying to retrieve Andi!” I cried, determined to defend him. Hugh had never been stupid. Full of grand and good intentions perhaps, but he’d been smart and strong and he’d tried to save Andi because he knew I loved her.
“I believe, Princess,” the White Monk spoke, still gazing out the coach window at the busy people, his cowl in profile, “that King Erich is attempting to make you understand that the simplest, most direct method of preventing the Tala from accessing your sister and the power she holds would have been to kill her.”
“You overstep yourself, Priest.” Erich pointed at the coach door. “Both of you, out. I will speak privately with my heart-daughter.”
The White Monk bowed, apparently with solemn respect, but a scent of cynicism like pine sap ran beneath it that Old Erich seemed unaware of. Marin scrambled out after him, giving Glorianna’s priest a wide berth and moving with a speed that spoke of her gratitude to escape.
Erich stared at me as they left. When the door clicked, he leaned over, hands on his knees. I shrank into the hard seat.
“Could you do it?” Erich demanded of me. “Do you hate her enough for what she did to Hugh, to her own sister, to cut her throat, to plunge the knife in her breast before she used her magic on you?”
“Wait . . . what?” My gorge rose and I pressed a hand to my belly, covering the babe.
“No, you couldn’t.” King Erich said it as a condemnation of my character. “So you will follow orders. Attempt a border crossing only. Do not make contact. Once we verify the information that you can cross, you will turn around and return to Avonlidgh for your lying-in. We will use the time to make plans and assemble our allies.”
“Allies?” Did he mean Aerron, Duranor, and the others, as Ursula suspected?
“I am not without resources.” Erich coughed again, a dark, rattling sound. “Consider this a test of your loyalty, heart-daughter. And a test of your strength and determination. Cross the border. Return. If you follow orders exactly and no word of any of this leaks to those at Ordnung, then, once you have safely divested yourself of my heir, you will have your opportunity for revenge. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure.” In truth, I wasn’t entirely clear, but this conversation had been illuminating. Playing the silly airhead did encourage people to spell things out. “What if Glorianna asks more of me?”
The old king huffed with impatience. “I will guide you. If you can cross that thrice-damned magical border, we will return in force and you will escort my army over it. I will do what Uorsin could not: Annfwn will be mine. With Annfwn’s rich resources, Avonlidgh will reign supreme. Your son, my blood, will follow me as High King—in Avonlidgh, as it should have been all along. Your traitorous sister will be thrown at your feet, with no way to defend herself. You will do as you wish with her then.”
“Oh.”
“It will be a cold revenge, but all the more satisfying for that.” The mad light in Erich’s eyes transformed into that grandfatherly twinkle that no longer deceived me. “Won’t that be a fine moment, Princess? She robbed you of so much. You will have everything of hers. This shall be your reward—if you perform perfectly. Everything you want shall be yours.”
I couldn’t swallow past the ball in my throat. Was this what I wanted? I no longer knew. If I’d ever known. Still I nodded and smiled, though my lips trembled with some unnamed emotion and my jaw clenched. “I shall strive to do my very best.”
“Do that.” Erich reached over and patted my knee again, his hand sliding farther up my thigh. Fortunately, I could feel nothing through my cloak and heavy gown, but I wanted to draw away. “Your loyalty to Hugh does you great credit. No doubt he is looking down from Glorianna’s arms, full of pride and love.”
I nodded again, one of those puppet people, my chin jerking up and down. I wanted to yell at him that he didn’t get to tell me how Hugh felt about me, whether he watched me. Hugh was mine, and I remembered more and more the comments he’d made about his father, how he’d hated him. He’d asked for Windroven because he didn’t want us living at Castle Avonlidgh. As Erich’s hand moved with greasy familiarity on my thigh, I understood why. Hugh had been protecting me. He’d just never told me so.
“I’ll do this, King Erich. I’ll make Hugh—and you—so proud.”
“See that you do. I can be a kind man, Amelia. Kinder than Uorsin. Show me that you belong to Avonlidgh and I shall make you Queen of Annfwn and you shall rule through your son. You will have more power than you ever dreamed of.” His breath washed sour over my face, and my stomach, so settled until now, turned over ominously. “Reach out and take the power I offer you.”
“It wouldn’t really be mine.” I swallowed against the sick. “It would be only borrowed from you and my son.” Just as I’d borrowed power from Hugh. Even he had treated me as something to be protected. A beautiful ninny who couldn’t be told the cold truth.
“Such is the way of the world for women. But you have your ways of pleasing men.” His hard hand caressed my cheek. I turned my face away, strug
gling to master the nausea as it rose with violent urgency.
“No, beautiful Amelia.” He grasped my chin in a firm grip and made me face him. “Don’t be shy.”
“I’m going to be sick!” I squeaked, pressing my lips together as fast upon the words as I could, blindly groping for the door handle.
Erich looked horrified and jerked back. He was quick enough to avoid most of it, but his boots were not so lucky. A veteran of far worse gore, he merely looked disgusted. Embarrassed, but also with a teensy feeling of retribution, I wiped my mouth with the cloth Marin had pressed into my hand before she exited.
“I apologize, King Erich.” The smell of my puke filled the coach and I thrust open the door, lest the odor make me barf again. “I’ll send a servant to clean it up straightaway.”
Outside the coach, the White Monk leaned against a tree, hands folded into his sleeves, only his scarred mouth visible beneath the cowl. Still, it curved in a more genuine smile than I’d yet seen from him.
“Well done, Princess,” he said. “Very well done. I shall check upon our traveling companions.”
I glanced at the coach. The White Monk should have been too far away to hear anything. How had he known?
Our small party waited in an abandoned barn while Erich’s caravan pulled out again, bound for Avonlidgh. Marin, of course, knitted, having long since made sure my stomach had settled. I was learning not to confuse her solicitude for my health with actual caring for me. Her anger brewed, chilly and implacable. If I addressed her on any topic other than my pregnancy, she acted as if she didn’t hear.
The White Monk sat meditating, apart from Erich’s soldiers from Castle Avonlidgh. Wearing full armor and Avonlidgh’s colors, they played some sort of game of chance that involved carved tokens of animals. They laughed and talked quietly among themselves, their lieutenant alternately watching them and me.