"Would you like to go down to the garden? Maybe we can bring the little sailboat and we can launch it on the pond. The wind would be good for sailing today."
Tabain nodded, his large, clear hazel eyes eager and excited.
"Marie," Ashra called and stood. "We must dress to go to down to the garden."
The girl appeared and took Tabain away to dress, while Ashra went to her wardrobe to grab her cloak.
Before long, they assembled again, Tabain holding Marie's hand, tightly buttoned up in his little coat. They walked out into the hallway and Ashra prayed she wouldn't run into either of the Lorcans on the way. Roisen made her uncomfortable and Amethyst hadn't left a particularly good impression either. What a horrendous pairing. They were both beautiful, but so remote and distant it chilled to the bone. From what she'd heard, they chilled each other as well, but perhaps they preferred it that way.
Her luck held and she didn't encounter anyone in the cavernous corridors, that still managed to feel unwelcoming and oppressive. They walked down staircases of mahogany, at one point seeing out over the garden through a small window. Did anyone other than her use these staircases, she wondered. The craftsmen had worked to create this complex and little of it was of use to anyone.
The door to Mr. Liesdal's apartments were open and Ashra paused, turning back to Marie. "Go ahead. I'll be a moment."
An unctuous smell fleeted out of the doorway. "Mr. Liesdal?" she called, hoping that smell didn't indicate something unfortunate had happened. No response came back. "Mr. Liesdal?" she called louder.
After a moment, a rustle sounded. She stepped inside the apartment. Books and other materials stacked up the side of the walls, leaving a little walkway into the bowls of the apartment.
"Who's there?" he called and Ashra sighed her relief that everything seemed fine.
"It's Ashra Greve," she called. "What is that smell?"
"What smell?"
"It's really pungent," she said, trying to clear it from her nose with her hand.
"Oh, that. It's nothing."
Mr. Liesdal appeared around the corner, dressed in a worn coat, which she didn't care to guess when it had last been cleaned. "Just a potion," he said. "It is in that awkward phase. Who are you again?"
"Ashra Greve. I came to visit you a week or so back, remember?"
Nodding absently, he went to rummage through a pile of things, obviously searching for something. "How can I help you?" he said.
"I saw your door was open and just came to say hello, but I see that you are busy." It really did stink in there. Maybe she should leave. "Actually, Mr. Liesdal, I am wondering if you can help me answer something. Is it possible to prove the parentage of a child?"
He stopped what he was doing for a moment. "There is a spell, a very old one that can do so. It involves water as a conduit. Rarely used these days."
"So it can be done? What if the parent is deceased?"
"That would be trickier; it would require deeper magics."
"But it can be done?"
"With a skilled sorcerer."
"Can you do it?"
He paused for a moment. "I have read about it somewhere, but I don't remember where."
Ashra looked at the mountain of jumbled parchment, books and other things. "It's just that someone is threatening my son by spreading doubt about his heritage."
"That isn't very nice. Is it true?"
"No!" she said, trying to not be offended. "Of course not."
"Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? The truth always comes out," he said as if warning her.
"I want the truth to come out."
The man shrugged and adjusted the waistband on this trousers before moving to another pile of material. "Give me a few days and I'll find the spell. If not, you might have to remind me."
He started sorting, finding some brass contraption he obviously wasn't expecting, holding it up to examine it.
Ashra turned and made her way out, glad to find fresh air again. She hated to admit it, but she was eager to get away. Mr. Liesdal, although not grasping and backstabbing like others here, wasn't necessarily friendly either. But that had been a fruitful excursion. She now had a means of dealing with this rumor if she had to. She felt assured this didn't pose a real threat anymore. No matter how it unfolded, she had a means of proving them wrong.
*
A note came in the afternoon, informing her that Alfrey Tilley wished to call. As far as Ashra knew, she couldn't recall meeting this man. The card was plain and crisp, written on heavy paper. Someone had taken time choosing this, she would guess.
She decided to accept it, primarily as she had no clue why this person was calling on her. They would be there eminently and Ashra sat in the formal seating area and waited. There was a sofa and a set of chairs that were distinctly for this purpose—receiving callers.
Tabain was asleep, having his afternoon nap. Hopefully this, whatever it was, wouldn't take too long.
She heard some shuffling sounds, then two men and a woman were shown in. There was a younger man, and two older persons. The family resemblance made her sure this was a son and his parents. Ashra stood as they approached and the men bowed while the woman curtseyed.
"We are honored that you have taken the time to receive us," the son said. "Delighted, actually."
The man seemed nervous as he sat down and then quickly readjusted his seat.
"These are beautiful apartments," the woman said with a bright smile. "Very nicely decorated."
"Thank you," Ashra said, not sure if it would serve to say she'd had no hand in the decoration.
In fact, they all looked nervous. The woman's beaming smile didn't budge and the young man was still not comfortable in his seat.
"We have lands north of here," the woman started. "A quite sizeable portion, and the Tilley family is old and well respected."
That's nice, Ashra thought to herself, still trying to discern the purpose of this visit.
The son seemed to take over, staring at her intently. "An alignment between our families would be a tremendous benefit to both, hence the reason we come here today."
"Oh?" Ashra asked, still not clear what he was referring to.
The mother spoke up again. "It would be a considerable honor if you would join our Alfrey here in matrimony."
Realization struck Ashra, an entirely unexpected development. Her eyebrows raised, she was too astonished to speak for a moment. This man was a complete stranger to her—how could they propose they marry? It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard, and now she didn't know how to react. "Uhm," she started, still not grasping at anything to say. "I am very recently widowed, and am still grieving the loss of my husband."
"It's too soon," the woman said, looking flustered. "I told you it would be too soon," she muttered sharply to the men in her family.
"It's just that we're thinking of the future," the son said. "While your sorrow for your late husband is commendable, one must turn one's thoughts to the future. An opportunity to ensure an alignment must be seized upon."
Ashra just stared at them, not knowing what to say. The woman hissed, obviously realizing this was going disastrously. "I am so pleased to hear you find my grief for my husband… commendable, Mr. Tilley. It will also preclude me from considering joining myself to any man for the foreseeable future."
"But that is irresponsible," the father, who had been silent up until now, pitched in.
"Marin," the woman warned.
"In light of my apparent and persistent irresponsibility, perhaps you should seek a wife for your son elsewhere," Ashra said as coolly as if dismissing a bothersome interruption. "I'm afraid an alignment between the Tilley House and the House of Greve won't be possible."
Perhaps she shouldn't have outright dismissed it, but these people really annoyed her. And the son persistently riding roughshod over her perspective said quite clearly she would have to be in absolute dire straits to even consider marrying someone like him. Also,
the estimable House of Tilley was one she had never heard of, which suggested these people were trying their luck—probably hoping to catch her off kilter and confused enough to consider such a proposal.
With fluster, they bid farewell and were shown out.
Ashra still couldn't believe their impertinence, and hoped they weren't simply the first in a line of others, hoping to succeed by getting their proposal before the others. With a deep sigh, she rubbed her temples.
Chapter 11:
* * *
Ideally, she would never have to go through something as painfully embarrassing as the Tilley proposal again. The gall of the people. Perhaps they were the vanguard, the ones too insensitive to believe there was no time too soon for such a suggestion—which indicated that more would come. In fact, anyone who wanted to add to their land, and hence power, would see a benefit in marriage to her.
This all made her feel trapped, as well as disgusted. Was she to endure more of this? And the fact that the Tilley's had seemed unwilling to take no for an answer had made it so much worse. It all made her feel queasy.
It did make it clear though, that the expectation was that something would give, that her land would be claimed one way or another.
Perhaps there was some way she could fight, could gain the influence she obviously needed—without having to tie herself to some family, and an unwanted husband. She couldn't imagine having to marry someone as a business transaction. That was not what marriage was, in her book, but these people saw things differently.
The ache to get away from the citadel sat like a cinder in her chest. What she wouldn't give to just head out on the road, away from here to never look back, but she couldn't. She would lose everything. This game wouldn't stop if she refused to play.
Tabain wandered out of the bedroom where he had been playing, having grown bored and now sought diversion. "Hello, my little man," she said and squatted down to his level, looking into his lovely, clear eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Sail," he said, holding up the little sailing boat.
"You want to go sail? Well, you will have to find your coat if you want to go down to the garden. Is that what you want?"
He nodded and headed off to the bedroom to search for a coat. Ashra smiled at his obvious determination, although he returned with his dressing gown, making her laugh.
"Well, we might have to go with something a little more rain proof. I wouldn't be surprised if there is a shower when we're down there."
Seeking the wardrobe, she pulled out a small coat and helped him put it on. The fires of the apartments kept their space warm, but the halls outside weren't much warmer than the outside air.
"You hold the boat tightly when we walk down the stairs," she said, taking his warm little hand in hers. They walked along the corridor, knowing exactly where to go now. As per usual, she met no one on the way.
The garden was deserted as well, and Tabain walked over and launched the small wooden boat at the edge of the pond, where the wind carried it out along the large, rectangular body of water. If the wind died, she would have to go out there and fetch it, but with the gusts rustling the branches over their heads, that was unlikely to happen. Still, she prayed it wouldn’t happen, particularly as there were fish in the pond, occasionally splashing their tails along the surface.
A movement appeared in the corner of her eye. Someone was with them, and that had never happened before. Immediately, her heart rate increased.
"Lady Greve," she heard and looked over to see Roisen Lorcan appearing from behind a cypress across the other side of the pond.
"Lord Lorcan," she said, forming an abrupt curtsey, feeling her palms itch with nervousness. They had never really spoken before. Against his black coat, his pale skin glowed in stark contrast. What did he want? Had he been here and they just didn’t see him?
"I trust you are well," he said, his voice smooth and deep. His eyes pierced through her and she hated the intensity of his attention.
"Of course, just getting some outside air."
He didn't say anything further for a moment, then his eyes shifted to Tabain who was now pushing the little sailboat along the water with a stick. "Seems you are settling in well."
Was that an accusation? She couldn't read him as there was a blankness on his face that could hide anything.
"My son is fond of sailing, it seems."
"Your lands are too far from the sea to capitalize on such a preference."
Again, discomfort worked its way up along her spine. He obviously knew where her land was, maybe all about her lands and holdings. "Just taking a round in the garden?" she asked, diverting the conversation away from what could be his objective.
His icy blue eyes returned to her again, slightly raised. No, she'd never seen him in the garden before, so she suspected he'd come specifically to speak to her. At least a proposal was out of the running. "I understand your wife has joined you. We were briefly introduced the other night." She had never been formally introduced to him, but they'd made their acquaintance when they’d ended up partners in that dance.
"Yes, she has," he said. There was no emotion on his face with the statement.
Ashra wondered what their marriage had achieved. It would have been a transaction of strength and benefit. One not involving love. Had he never loved anyone, an errand thought snuck into her mind.
There was no natural progression in this conversation, and this was the perfect point to say something meaningless before walking away, but he made no move to. She would have to do it. "By your leave," she finally said with a slight bow of her head.
He smiled as if she was being foolish and stupid. Annoyance flashed through her. "I thought we should perhaps have a little conversation," he said.
No, there was no reason they needed to have a conversation, but this showed that he had specifically come down to see her, probably seeing her from his apartments above the garden. "Oh? What concerning?"
"You handing your lands over to me." He said it so casually, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.
Blinking, she was astounded. "And why would I do that?"
"Well, now, I suspect you are a woman who would rather circumvent the whole nasty business that will ensue and go straight to the conclusion."
"Which is that you will acquire my lands?"
"Naturally." He moved along slightly, his hands clasped behind his back.
She didn't actually know what to say. The gall of the man robbed her of words. Well, he certainly didn't hide what his intentions were. There were a million things that were rushing up her throat, but she had to check herself. Her gut reaction wasn't perhaps as ladylike as it should be. Was this some kind of test? He couldn't be serious.
Crossing her arms, she was still trying to decide how to proceed with this. The serene expression on his face suggested he was serious. "I'm not sure that's in the Greve family's best interests," she finally said.
"Best interest is a tricky thing. Sometimes a small victory is better than a large loss."
"Assuming large loss."
He smiled again. Perfect white teeth underneath those full lips. There was no denying he was beautiful, disturbingly so, but he also couldn't quite hide the blackness of the heart underneath. He was the consummate player of this game, and perhaps that was what he was trying to convey. "I don't think you understand how precarious your situation is." He tsked and took another few steps along the side of the pond before pausing again and turning to her. "In return for your land, I will pledge you my protection."
There was probably no point conveying her ignorance by questioning what she needed protection from. True, she might not know, but would it serve her to appear utterly clueless?
"It is not an offer to scoff at, Lady Greve."
"A price I am unable to pay."
He considered her for a moment. "Your alternative means you will find yourself in a much worse position. The only safety in these lands requires protection from someone powerful, and yo
u are alone here, set to weather a storm that will tear your house down."
"You will never have my lands, Lord Lorcan." With her own expression, she conveyed how serious she was.
He snorted as if she was a petulant child. "If you truly wish to ensure the safety of your son, you should consider my offer. I can be a generous protector—and I certainly have more power than you would gather in an alliance with someone like Tilley." The look he gave her was supposed to communicate she was gravely miscalculating—not that she for a moment would consider marrying someone like Tilley. More importantly, Lorcan knew of the proposal, and she was fairly sure the Tilley's hadn't taken him into their confidence. "Be careful, because someone like Tilley would have his house torn down in the process if you choose your alliance wrong. I offer you protection, true protection. You will live well and will never want for anything."
As much as she hated it, the words were seductive. It was what she wanted, what she ached for, but the cost would be Tabain's future. It was the means out of this game she so desperately wished for. But that was the point of temptation, to make you harm yourself in exchange for your desire.
"Never," she said. Truth be told, she couldn't even allow herself to consider it for a moment. Her job was to protect Tabain, not to seek an easy way out. She smiled tightly.
"I suggest you reconsider. The option will only be on the table for a short time. Then you will be fair game. If I must wrench it from you, I will show you no mercy." With a last look, he stepped away, strolled down the path at a measured and leisurely pace. The white gravel crunched under his feet until he disappeared.
"It's sailing," Tabain said with excitement. Ashra turned to see the boat moving at some speed down the length of the pond.
The tension sat even tighter in her shoulders now. Lorcan had been open with his intentions—to take her land any way he could. But she wasn't entirely powerless in this. She had power. Her marriage was the obvious one, and maybe Lorcan was right that if it wasn't strong enough, they would go down with her. Marriage couldn't be the only alliance that could be forged, though. Powerful families protected their interests and maybe there was a way to align interests—economic interests. At the heart, that's what drove this place, and she had to find some way of recruiting someone who Lorcan couldn't budge. She had to exhaust any other price for protection than her land or her hand in marriage. Now, she just had to figure a way to achieve it.
Dark Court: The Summons Page 6
