by Jaine Fenn
An interesting twist on the truth, but from Francin she expected nothing less.
“Our esteemed judge-viscount, on hearing these facts, did not insist on custodial or corporal punishment for the nobles involved, a lenient judgment we should all be thankful for.” Because, the duke did not say, being noble will only save your neck up to a point. “However, both guilty Houses are to pay fines: five hundred marks each to the girl’s family, and two thousand marks apiece to House Harlyn.”
Rhia was tempted to request the entire fine be paid to the girl’s family. A month ago she might have. But leaving aside the consequences of suddenly making an ordinary craftsman rich beyond reason, the other Houses would be insulted by this gesture. She would instead ask Markave, when he recovered, about non-Church-affiliated charities in the lower city to which anonymous donations might be made.
Francin concluded, “I leave it up to the heads of House Escar and House Callorn what punishment, if any, they choose to visit upon their errant sons.”
None, Rhia suspected, given the two boys had acted with the sanction of their elders, possibly even at their suggestion. The unseemly haste with which House Callorn put their marriage proposal to her confirmed that; no doubt they would have preferred Etyan tried, disgraced and punished, but they had been desperate enough to settle for self-exile. And then there was Alharet’s involvement.
Oh yes, Alharet.
“The matter is now closed.” With that, the duke swept down the stairs to cross the hall, scattering courtiers.
And that would be that, publicly. Francin had told her the hearing would “resolve what can be resolved whilst minimizing disruption”. The guilty parties would get off lightly. All of them, including Etyan. Even in private Francin had not mentioned the full extent of the girl’s ordeal.
Etyan and Dej were holding hands now, oblivious of the looks that got them. Did this skykin girl, who obviously loved her brother, need to know what he had done that night, what he was capable of? Should I tell her? How would she react? No: I can’t face it. Not right now.
No mention was made of the impersonation of militiamen by the hired criminals. Their orders had been to make sure Lord Harlyn’s side of the story remained unheard after his unexpected return from Zekt; once Rhia went to see the duke they had tried to take Etyan from the house. Had they succeeded that would have been the last anyone saw of him; perhaps they would have made his death look like suicide or perhaps he would just have disappeared without trace. When Rhia had asked the duke who had given them their orders, he had told her, in a typically patronizing tone, that as such matters were handled by intermediaries there was no way to know for sure. Rhia resisted the temptation to ask how, if this was the case, he could be sure the young Lords of Houses Callorn and Escar were ultimately to blame, but she knew better.
The exit from the hall was a disorganized scrum. Rhia stuck close to Etyan and Dej. When their path brought them close to members of House Callorn, Rhia spotted a half-bowed head amongst the Callorn nobles. “Lord Mercal?” she called.
The viscount turned, surprised. Rhia probably should not be doing this in public, but he too had been badly used. “I am sorry, but I do not think I can accept your kind offer of marriage, under the circumstances.”
He nodded his over-heavy head. “I u-understand, Countess.”
He looked so miserable that she did not add the obvious addendum; that it would never have worked anyway.
Chapter 67
I could stay here forever.
But Etyan had got up, leaving Dej alone in his bed. When he was gone she became aware of the wrongness in the light and the seething mass of strangers at the edge of thought. She should get up too and leave this comforting nest, even though it was the first place she’d ever been truly happy. The world was still out there, with all its shit and trouble.
The door opened and Etyan came in. Dej loved the way her heart flipped when she saw his face. “A letter’s been delivered,” he said, holding out a folded parchment, still sealed. She wasn’t sure why he was telling her this until he added, his tone puzzled, “It’s for you.”
Dej knew what this must be. Etyan came over, but hesitated before handing the paper over. “Um, is there something I don’t know?”
“No. Yes. Sorry. I asked the duke to write to my old crèche for news of someone I once cared for there.”
“A boy?”
Was that jealousy? “No, a girl in my dorm.”
He passed her the letter, and sat on the edge of the bed. The address was “Dej, of the skykin, under the protection of Francin, Duke of Shen.” The writing was neat and even; Dej wondered if Mam Gerisa had used her newly recovered bronze-nibbed pen.
She broke the seal and read the letter:
Dej,
I was touched and delighted to receive a direct missive from our noble duke.
Dej smiled. More like stunned, then smug as a cat with stolen cream.
Min went to the farmstead of East Grain, a quarter-day south from the crèche. The mistress of the house was sympathetic to her unfortunate condition and had taken on another girl in a similar state some years back. She is a midwife and after the birth Min was to stay on, with her baby, as a servant on the farm.
Dej’s smile became a smirk at the phrase “unfortunate condition”, then settled back to contentment. Some part of her had doubted the she-goat would keep her word, that Min would be sent off to be a whore, or a slave, or some other vile fate as punishment for her disobedience. But the crèche-mother had kept her word. Then she read the final sentence.
Sadly, the baby came too early, and died. Despite the midwife’s efforts Min also went to the First.
Yours,
Mam Gerisa
Dej let the letter fall. Min had seen something in Dej others missed, and taught her that it was all right to be different, and that you had to stand up for yourself. She’d been her rock. She’d also been a fallible, ordinary, scared girl. And she’d made her choice. It was no one’s fault that, in the end, that choice killed her. Under her breath Dej murmured, “Oh Min. I forgive you.”
“Dej? Are you all right?”
The hollowness Min had left in Dej’s soul was gone now, filled by this boy right here, looking at her with concern and love. “It wasn’t good news, but I can deal with it. I’ll be fine.”
“Come here.” Etyan hugged her, careful of her damaged arm. Dej clung to him until her eyes stopped stinging, then murmured, “Come back to bed.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got House stuff to do.”
“Like what?” He’d spent some of the day since the hearing talking with his sister in the parlour, but when Dej showed an interest he’d said it was nothing worth boring her with.
“Just stuff Ree can’t do.”
“Is there anything your sister can’t do?”
“She’d like to think not. But some of the guilds and counting houses disagree. Now the man of the House is back they need me to look over the papers she’s been dealing with on my behalf.”
“So she can’t do certain things without a man approving them, even though she knows what she’s doing?” This struck Dej as a stupid arrangement.
“That’s right.”
“Does that mean you’re going back to your old life?” Dej had been too busy enjoying the present to give the future much thought.
“No. I can’t. I’m not that person anymore.”
And Dej wasn’t the same person who’d left the crèche. She was free, though that freedom frightened her. Min was gone, Kir was gone. But Etyan was here. And “here” was his home. But not hers. “So will you stay in this house, in the city?”
“I don’t know, Dej. I just don’t.” She realized he was upset too, for different reasons. She hugged him again.
When they sat back he got up to go. “Wait.” She put a hand on his arm. “We need to think about the future.”
He sighed. “I don’t want to.”
“Me neither. But we have to.”
&n
bsp; They found Rhia in the room Dej had fled through when she first came to the townhouse. Rhia’s study, Etyan called it, adding that she spent a lot of time in there.
Etyan knocked on the door. From inside Rhia called, “What is it?”
“It’s me, Ree. Us.”
“I’m a little busy. Can it wait?”
“Not really.” Part of Dej still wished it could, wished she could retreat into the warm cocoon of Etyan’s love and forget everything else. But then, she didn’t want him to fall back into the routine of his life here, a life she hadn’t been part of.
“Come in, then.”
The room was even untidier than the first time she’d seen it, with almost every surface covered in paper. The only clear surface was a massive ironwood chest, near the door. “Sit there if you like,” said Rhia, turning in her seat. They sat on the chest.
She shuffled her chair around further. “What’s so urgent?”
Etyan said, “I need to think about my future. I never have, before now. It’s always been about the moment, or trying to escape the past. But the past makes the future.”
Dej had come up with that phrase, in their discussions.
“A perceptive assessment,” said Rhia. “But I know you. You’re working up to asking me something. Please, whatever it is, just say it.”
“It’s not asking, so much as telling. I, we, are leaving.”
“No!” Rhia’s face fell. “You can’t. I only just got you back!”
“I know. What you did, coming to get me… it’s amazing. But I can’t stay here. I’ve changed. I mean, everyone can see that…” he held out the hand Dej wasn’t holding, with its patterning of scales, “… but it’s not just physical. I can’t go back to the way things were.”
Rhia’s shoulders dropped. “What about your obligations? You’re running away from them. Again.”
“I’ll finish all the paperwork. And I’ll write letters, saying you’re authorized to carry out House business in my name. Hopefully at least some of the people we deal with will accept that.”
“And what about you? What will you do, if you’re not being the head of House Harlyn?”
“Whatever happened left me able to survive in the skyland. So I want to explore it, with Dej.” He squeezed her hand.
“It’s not safe. Even for skykin, proper skykin like Dej, it’s dangerous out there.”
“I know,” said Dej. “Which is why we’re going to visit but not live there.” She’d kept a straight face when Rhia said “proper” skykin. Etyan’s sister didn’t need to know that Dej wasn’t one. She’d have to tell Etyan, at some point. But not yet.
“Then where will you live?” Rhia stared at Etyan.
“Not in the city. Dej hates it here. And I’m not sure it’s somewhere I want to be right now. In fact, we’ll leave as soon as I’m done with the House business, assuming the rain lets us. By the end of the week, hopefully.”
“So soon! Where will you go?”
“To the villa, out on our estate. At least at first. Then to the umbral. From there I can get out, and see the world.”
“But you’ll come back, sometimes, to visit.”
“Sometimes, yes.”
Rhia turned to Dej. “And you’ll be with him?”
Dej had an inkling that Rhia wanted to ask if this was her idea – which it was, originally. “Etyan has made his own choice.”
“Which just happens to be the same as yours.” She looked back at her brother. “Then I won’t stop you, Etyan. Just… please take care. And don’t go too far, not without letting me know.” She frowned. “You’re not considering going back to Zekt, are you?”
“Never.”
“That’s something, at least.”
Dej’d had enough of this conversation. She wouldn’t put it past Rhia to come up with some great new reason why Etyan had to stay. “We’ll let you get back to your papers, then.”
“Yes. Thank you. Etyan, please tell Nerilyn I’ll come down for supper today. It looks like we won’t have many more meals together.”
On the landing Etyan turned to her. Dej put her good arm around him, and he returned her embrace. They kissed, and nothing else mattered.
They’d make this work.
Chapter 68
It could almost be a social visit on a twoday. Except this was not twoday, and Rhia had needed the duke’s permission to see the woman who had once been her best friend.
Even so, Alharet greeted her at the door to her chambers with a smile. She did not look at the pair of guards posted outside the door and instead exclaimed, “How delightful to see you!”
“May I come in?” Did the duchess not know Rhia was responsible for her imprisonment?
“Of course. I can even send a guard for tisane and biscuits. I am not being starved or beaten.” Her smiled widened as though she had made a joke.
“No, not on my account.” As Rhia followed the duchess through to her parlour she questioned her decision to visit. But the longer she left it, the harder this conversation would be.
They sat in their usual chairs. Rhia did not look at the duchess’s caged bird. She decided to start with the obvious question. “How much do you know? About your situation, I mean?”
“Guards came five days ago and told me I was to be confined to these rooms for my own safety. They also searched my chambers, presumably also for my safety. My husband visited me two days ago and said he believed I had been plotting against his nation and that I would therefore be kept under house arrest for the foreseeable future.”
“And have you?”
“Have I ‘been plotting against his nation’? What do you think, Rhia?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“So it was pure coincidence that my arrest came immediately after your return to Shen?” Though the duchess’s smile did not waver her words were hard as ironwood. Francin had offered Rhia an escort for this visit; she half wished she had accepted one now.
“Perhaps not.” Rhia fought to hold onto the calm fury Alharet’s treachery evoked in her. It was hard, now she was face-to-face with the woman. “Or perhaps it was just time for what you did to come into the light.”
“And what precisely have I done?” Alharet appeared interested in Rhia’s opinion.
Rhia refused to let herself be pressured. “For a start I believe you tried to steal my papers.”
Alharet’s pale brow furrowed. “Your papers? Oh, you mean that break-in at your house, a month or two back? I thought you said it was lower city types.”
“Who you might well have hired.”
“What an accusation!” Alharet looked genuinely hurt. Then she smiled, “And completely unprovable.”
Rhia hoped her shock did not show on her face. Keeping her voice even she said, “Just as my housekeeper’s foreign lover will never be found, and just as I may never know who tried to abduct me in Zekt, or why.”
Alharet laid one hand on top of the other in her lap. Her fan had, apparently, been one of the items confiscated. “Just so,” she said, then looked at Rhia with a friendly smile, “You should realize your own value, my dear. Perhaps now you do. If you were not so enquiring you would be more innocuous, less of a threat – or prize. If you were happily married off, to a decent, quiet man your life would be safe and happy, and that would make me happy.”
Rhia ignored the last part of that sentence, focusing instead on Alharet’s near-admission. “There was a plot to discredit my brother. I believe you had a hand in it.”
And Alharet ignored the last part of her reply, saying instead, “A plot, you say? Is Etyan all right?”
“He’s fine, and the hearing–” Rhia bit off her words, realizing Alharet might not know there had been a hearing; perhaps she did not even know Etyan had survived the attempt on his life.
Alharet inclined her head, as though acknowledging a minor victory in a board game.
Rhia would need to admit one more thing to confirm the last part of the puzzle. “Men came to my
house on my return. They wore militia uniforms. Your maid gave these uniforms to them.”
Alharet looked thoughtful at this latest accusation. “You know where my servants are now.”
Rhia realized it was a question. “No. I don’t.” Most likely they were being questioned by the duke’s men.
“Nor I, except the girl I had to dismiss.”
“Dismiss? When?”
“Five days back, shortly before,” Alharet spread her hands, “all this. Stealing palace property indeed. So hard to get good staff.”
Rhia stared. Had Alharet known the rope was shortening? If so, how? She was suddenly sick of the games the duke and duchess played with each other, and with everyone else around them. “Why do you do it, Alharet?”
She did not expect an answer, but Alharet said, “Because our early life makes us what we are.” She looked Rhia in the face. “Your father has been dead over a decade, but you still think of him a lot, yes.”
“Yes.” Rhia was unsure where this was going.
“And your brother; he is far younger than you, and causes you much stress, yet you love him.”
“I do.” An unpleasant possibility was suggesting itself.
“My father was a cold and distant figure; I am not sure I ever loved him. But my brother and I were born within moments of each other. Mekteph and I are two halves of the same being. Despite having married others since, we were, and in our hearts remain, as close as two people can ever be.”
Rhia felt sick. She had always assumed that the books on Zekt exaggerated when they spoke of the ancient tradition of the Zekti royals taking their sisters as wives. She stood up on stiff legs.
“I wanted to hate you,” said Alharet, her voice showing emotion for the first time, “because your selfishness ripped me from everything, and everyone, that I loved. From Mekteph, though time and distance cannot kill love like ours. But you are honest and smart – too smart for your own good – and I found I liked you. I still do, believe it or not.”
Rhia looked away, determined to show neither anger nor revulsion. To the wall she said, “The feeling is no longer mutual.”
