Ashra had thought Fiedra was someone she had to worry about, but now she was wondering if Amethyst was a bigger predator. Making some excuse, Amethyst walked away.
"Nicely deflected," Roisen said, a look of amusement now on his features.
"Why, thank you, Lord Lorcan." With a nod, she took her leave, taking a deep breath and exhaled as she tried to find somewhere safe to place herself while she waited for the blasted dinner to start. She'd just survived an ambush, but she had made an enemy and she wasn't happy about it. If she could have managed it better, she didn't know, but she couldn't afford to make enemies left, right and center.
Perhaps it was time to start making friends in this forsaken place, if there was such a thing. Roisen Lorcan would certainly not be it. While his wife sought to discredit her in the eyes of this court, with as much maliciousness at possible, Roisen Lorcan sought to destroy her, and he would do it with much more elegance and probably a sympathetic smile on his face—however false. Nothing personal; she just stood in the way of what he wanted. She wasn't sure which one was worse, but if there was one family where she knew where they stood, it was the Lorcans. The rest of them, with their smiling deference, didn't have the courtesy to stab her in the front.
Chapter 14:
* * *
For quite a while, everything seemed calm. There were the usual underhanded and snide remarks every now and then, but no direct, perceived threats. She wasn't getting terribly far with the gathering friends objective. This wasn't a place for friends, apparently. In a way, she was starting to feel more settled. The frantic searching for the next threat was abating a little, leaving behind a new sense of loneliness. Tabain took up much of her days, but as adorable as he was, he didn't provide the most riveting conversation and Ashra felt as if her mind was atrophying.
They walked in the gardens almost every day, except in the wettest of weather. The days were growing shorter and the nights longer. Almost every night, they had to gather for some reason or another—usually in all their finery, for whatever amusement Raufasger wanted.
The fresh air of the garden did revive her, as it always did, although she was now aware that the Lorcans could observe them, which made this little garden less of a respite than it had been. She had thought of finding another one, but feared leaving the halls and corridors she actually knew.
"Come, Tabain. We must return for lunch."
All around her, people were meeting and gossiping during the day, and she was left out of it. Other than the odd proposal, no one met with her. Her eagerness to become part of this scene and to hold her own tended to fade away when she had a choice—especially now that her position was more secure. She was much happier on her own, than having to dress and meet with any of these awful people, unless she absolutely had to.
Returning to their apartments, Ashra undressed and the page associated with her household presented her with a note. Someone wanted to see her. No doubt it would be another inane proposal of marriage. But it wasn't. It was infinitely worse.
Your late husband left some books here if you wish to collect them.
Your Servant, RL
She didn't know what to make of the note. Why would Torunn leave books with Roisen Lorcan? Was this a ploy of some kind? She couldn't see a purpose for it. What books? Were they necessary? Why couldn't he be more specific?
For a moment, she wondered if she could ignore this. She really didn't want to go collect anything from Lorcan. Saying that, she would otherwise never neglect to collect Torunn’s things. Roisen Lorcan made her uncomfortable enough that she considered foregoing these books, which was madness and maybe a little cowardly.
They ate lunch and Ashra was considering when to go in search of the Lorcan apartments, but Tabain was fussy and refused to nap properly. In the end, it didn't happen. In fact, she'd been putting it off. Then it was time to get dressed and join the evening's festivities.
They were dining that night, one of Raufasger's more simple affairs—at least superficially. Nothing was simple with Raufasger, she was learning.
*
Ashra entered the reception room, which had been well lit with bright candles in every direction. She wore one of her satin gowns, which was passable for one of the less spectacular diversions. The fashion parade continued.
"Claim them or I'll throw them out. They are cluttering my space," Lorcan said, appearing when a group of people stepped out of the way. Ashra stopped to look over at him. He wore his typical black clothes, his blond hair shining in the light of the space.
"That's a bit unnecessary, isn't it?"
He shrugged, looking bored. "I am an impatient man."
"Fine, I will pick them up. Sweet fates forbid they were an imposition on you." Although he had never mentioned them before. Why the hurry all of a sudden?
"After dinner," he said and stepped away. His back was stiff when he walked. It must hurt to look down so much—on others.
With a sigh, she cleared away any residual negativity from their brief encounter. She would go; she would pick up these dratted books and she would say goodnight. Simple.
Still, the evening's obligations sat in her mind throughout dinner, making time passing seem both ludicrously slow and ticking away too quickly.
*
It was quite late when she knocked on what she thought was the Lorcan's main door. It had to be it as it was the largest and most opulent she could see. The corridor was darkly lit and the door itself was lacquered black with silver embellishments. It took some time before it opened, and it was Roisen Lorcan himself who did.
"They're in my study," he said and stepped aside. He was dressed more informally, his black jacket removed, leaving a white shirt. "This way."
His apartments were very different from her own. Black was again a predominant theme, as was heavy lacquer and a checkered marble floor. It was one of the most elegant apartments she'd ever seen. Cold and austere, though, but she expected that suited him.
He walked through the large entrance hall into a door on the far side, which was in a way more homely. Rich mahogany and red carpets. A desk stood along one of the walls and a bookcase took up the entire wall behind it. He spared no expense on the furniture. "Drink?" he said.
"No, I had better go."
"Impatient to get away," he said with a smile, his lips curving gently across his white teeth. Was he picking up on how nervous he made her?
"Where is your wife?" she asked as a way to change the subject.
"No doubt off with one of her paramours," he stated, sitting down heavily in one of the chairs. His typical formality seemed to have slipped away somewhat.
"Oh," she said with surprise, not knowing how to respond to that. He obviously knew about it, and even didn't mind. Again, the state of their relationship was on display.
"Does that shock you?"
"No," she lied.
"More common than dust around here. Everyone dabbles in beds they don't belong," he said in his laziest drawl. "Quite the thing. Does the prudish Lady Greve not approve?"
"Not my thing, really."
"Did you think Torunn was always loyal to you?"
The question was aggressive any way it was cut. She really didn't come here for him to throw aspersions on her marriage, or worse. "He was," she stated.
Roisen looked at her and took a sip of some dark liquid in a heavy glass, then stroked his finger along his temple. "You are so sure of him," he said. She noted he didn't contradict her.
"Yes."
Still holding his glass, he pointed to a pile of tomes on the desk. They must be the books he was referring to. For a moment, she'd wondered if there were any books at all. They looked old, ancient even. Dangers of Conquered Realms, one said along the spine. History of the Darkest Age, said another. Clearly uplifting reading.
"Thank you," she said. "I hadn't been aware that you and my husband were acquainted."
"Everyone here is acquainted."
"In such a studious way?"
; He watched her as if he was trying to determine what she was inferring. "We had some common interests."
His eyes on her made her nervous. They seemed to linger, to see the thing she didn’t want him to see.
"I should go," she said.
"What's the rush? So eager to be in your own company, or is it me you seek to get away from?"
Very much the latter, but it would appear spineless to say so.
"So how many proposals have you had now? Eight, nine?"
"Do you keep tabs on me?"
"Just guessing. Is my offer starting to look good yet?"
"To hand over everything I have? Hmm, still struggling to see the attraction."
"I could seduce you."
Abruptly, she looked over at him, but his face didn't indicate whether he was serious or not. "I'm fairly sure you couldn't."
"Don't underestimate me. If the empty bed and cold nights aren't starting to grate yet, they will soon. It's quite a long time now since you've had any company in it. Particularly if a new marital bed isn't going to be on the cards."
As if anyone who approached her remotely appealed, she thought with a mental snort. And really, why were they talking about this? It was too intimate a topic to discuss between them, but then he openly admitted his wife’s indiscretions.
Leaning back, Lorcan placed his boot on the desk and crossed his legs at the ankle.
"Do you really think so highly of yourself that a woman would hand over her family wealth for the privilege?" she said disbelievingly.
"You'll never know unless you try."
Was he toying with her? Surely in some way he was. Still, the mental images that tried to sneak into her mind made her blush. It seemed too outlandish to even consider the two of them entwined. "You're married, Lord Lorcan."
"Not in the way you were. Quite the curiosity, a woman who stirs complete loyalty."
So Torunn had been loyal. She felt awful that the doubts had threatened, even for a moment. Was Lorcan curious about loyalty? Perhaps to someone in his position, it seemed a strange notion.
A sound informed her that he'd risen from the chair and was walking over to her. Nervousness flared in her gut, but she refused to step back as she wanted to. He stood close, but didn't touch. Intensely aware of his presence, she refused to look at him, perhaps worried what she would see in his eyes. Slowly, he pushed the books over to her. "Let me know if you change your mind. Loyalty goes both ways, you know. Some tend to crave it, particularly in such a precarious environment."
How would you know? she wanted to say. He was saying he would be loyal. The idea was strange, but perhaps in some way, he knew what would appeal to her. Then again, she didn't think she could trust him to be. He was too consummate a player to bother about things like loyalty, especially if it at any point didn't serve him. "I won't change my mind."
She looked him straight in the eyes as she said it and his eyes sparkled as if he was amused. "Shame."
With a dry throat and holding her head high, she bundled the books into her arms. "Thank you." She felt funny saying it as if she was thanking him for propositioning her. He certainly did it in a different way than others, but then he was married—however unhappily. If he wasn't, would he be one in the queue waiting to propose to her. No, Roisen Lorcan waited in no queues. No doubt he would manipulate her to the alter if he had the choice, or maybe he thought he could steal her land from under her feet without bothering, or simply by having her under him. Embarrassment flared up her cheeks as she turned to leave. Hopefully, it would be an objective he would give up on.
Chapter 15:
* * *
Ashra couldn't help chuckling at Lorcan's ludicrous proposition. Although she could lie to herself and say it was stupendously ludicrous, there was the tiniest temptation there. Not him exactly, because he was too much… too fraught, too intense. She could never trust someone like him. But just the thought of not being alone for once, or simply physical intimacy. There was no point craving her husband any more. He was not coming back and that craving would never be fulfilled. She was accustomed to going long stretches without him, but had never got used to it.
The problem was that the ways of court were too complicated for a relationship. There was too much at stake and she would forever fear the reasons behind someone's actions. She could not conduct a relationship like that—not trusting and forever questioning the other person's intentions.
The thought of Lorcan snuck into her head, an intimate scene, but would she fear a knife being withdrawn from underneath the pillow? A fission of discomfort worked its way down her spine as she walked to the white hall, where the liege was holding audience tonight.
A slow night reading by the fire was what she wanted, but if she were honest, she didn't want a slow night reading on her own. She missed having a partner, someone to confide in—someone to just sit with. The thought that she might never have that again was terrifying. But around here, she saw it as an impossibility. There wasn't a single person she felt comfortable turning her back on, or letting her guard down. It seemed to be a thing that caused people's undoing.
The hall was bright, the mirrors adding to the brightness from the endless candles around the walls and in the chandeliers. Raufasger was sitting on his throne, surveying his court with a smug look on his face. This was his audience, in his city and they were all his courtiers.
Immediately, her eyes searched out Lorcan's dark form. Instinctively, she seemed to feel where he was and soon found him conferring with a group of men. He raised his glass to her, a slight smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He knew full well he unnerved her, which was probably his intention. She refused to play along.
Turning her attention away, she sought somewhere to place herself. Some backs were firmly turned to her, but perhaps not as many as when she'd first arrived.
A Lord Harl, who she didn’t really know, nodded to her and she grabbed a glass of champagne off a passing tray. "The liege seems in a good mood tonight," she said. "I'm not sure I have introduced myself." She knew full well some felt it was uncouth to be so direct and introduce oneself, feeling a person had to be introduced by a common acquaintance, but no one seemed to want to perform that function for her—at least without recompense of some kind. "I am Lady Greve."
"We must be grateful for that," the man said. "Lord Harl. I knew your husband."
"It seems we have something in common, then," she said with a smile.
The man considered her, not seemingly impressed with her jest. "I hope you are settling well here."
"I am learning to find my way around."
"It is a credit to you that you have managed to find your feet."
Ashra wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but got the feeling there was something unpleasant underneath. "One does what one must."
"Still, it is unusual to see persons of your ilk here."
"My ilk?" She got the feeling he wasn't speaking of her gender. She had found that persons with prejudices felt the need to state them, and this man was just about to.
"Someone from the lower orders," he said, his voice almost sugary, filled with condescending pity. "I find they tend to prefer other company." He made it sound as if the persons of the 'lower order' preferred to find other company, when they were effectively, but not explicitly excluded. But yes, it was also true, people who weren't naturally part of Raufasger's determination of ideal heritage did tend not to seek the company of this court. Raufasger's disregard for their lives and liberty was well known and often pronounced.
But this man was also setting a trap for her, pushing her to admit she didn't want to be here, that like everyone else—almost everyone else—she was here because she had to be. "I have found the court charming," she said as if she had no clue what he was talking about. It did break her policy of not lying, but with a person such as this, she felt she had to. This was definitely an enemy she had stumbled across, someone deliberately laying a trap. Most here were prejudiced against her kind, but
this Lord Harl had gone out of his way to ensure she knew, as if he was picking a fight.
She smiled. "So far, I have found my time here to be very fortuitous."
"I heard of your dealings with Lord Wierstoke," he said. "Inspired."
Ashra actually enjoyed making this man compliment someone 'of the lower orders.’ "Thank you. Kind of you to say."
The hardness in his eyes showed he was still wanting to tell her what he thought of her kind, waiting for something to pounce on. Part of her wanted to shut this down and move on as fast as possible, but she didn't want to give him the impression that anything he said bothered her—because it didn't, really. She knew most people here were prejudiced to some degree, so she was hardly shocked.
"And where does your family have their estates?" she asked.
"To the East of here. We have been there since the very beginning." He was telling her his family was tight with Raufasger. Still, he had never stood out as one of the powerhouses in this court. Perhaps why he was so adamant in his prejudices. Such bitterness could only be born out of beliefs his family had not received what they were due. Most likely, her estates were larger.
Obviously, she had the option to rub that in, which was probably how many in this court would act. "I haven't traveled East, but I hear it is beautiful."
The man raised his eyebrow in surprise, but he didn't say anything, refusing to be congenial. So, he wasn't giving up. Now it really was time to move on. "I hope it will be a pleasant evening. It was a pleasure to meet you," she lied. "I think I will see what nibbles we are honored with tonight."
Another person she was inordinately happy to walk away from. There was no reason to engage with him again. She wasn't surprised, but she had uncovered one of the people who resolutely felt she didn't belong here, in their midst. Yes, well, she understood well enough that the true game of this place was beyond petty racism. That wouldn't meet the bar.
Dark Court: The Summons Page 8
