Quintana of Charyn lc-3

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Quintana of Charyn lc-3 Page 18

by Melina Marchetta


  ‘You have no idea what it felt like that everyone knew the business of my spousal home!’ she cried out, because Phaedra failed at most instructions to herself.

  Quintana stared at her with disdain. ‘No idea? What a thing to say.’ She waved Phaedra off, as if an irritant. ‘One gets used to the whole kingdom knowing when you’re swiving,’ she said to Tesadora as if Phaedra wasn’t present. ‘If that’s the worst thing that’s going to happen to her, she’s fortunate indeed.’

  ‘Just go away, Your Majesty. Tesadora is right. You’re safer in the cave with Cora and the others.’

  Quintana’s lip curled with distaste. ‘I can’t bear another day with them. The hag was already at it with the slut this morning.’

  ‘Can she at least try to remember their names?’ Phaedra said to Tesadora.

  ‘I remember their names perfectly well.’ The Princess sent her a look of irritation. ‘Have I not told you about my memory for detail?’

  Phaedra wanted to scream with frustration. The delusion would have been amusing if she wasn’t speaking to the future heir’s mother.

  ‘No? Well, I should have mentioned it.’ Quintana spoke as if Phaedra had responded. ‘I know all their names. I know the names of every woman who slighted Ginny in her village and every lad who has so much as winked at Florenza and every person in the valley who irritates Cora. It’s all they speak of day in and day out.’

  ‘You do not,’ Phaedra said.

  ‘Oh, I do.’

  Phaedra looked out to where Tesadora was still crouched. ‘She does not.’

  ‘I think she does,’ Tesadora said with a sigh. ‘She’s quite extraordinary.’

  Phaedra bit her tongue, well and truly sick of Tesadora’s awe of the Queen of Uselessness.

  ‘Go on,’ Tesadora said to Quintana. ‘Let’s get this over and done with. Prove her wrong. Florenza’s suitors to begin with.’

  ‘Josslyn, Kent, Freshier, Arns, Mitcheloi, Samule, Talbot, Patroy, Idiotjoy.’

  Tesadora gave Phaedra a meaningful look. ‘Don’t get her started on how many bricks held up her chamber in the palace of the Citavita, or how many steps there are in the second tower, or how many leaves there are in this forest with a red-gold tinge.’

  ‘She made up that last name. Florenza has never mentioned an Idiotjoy.’

  Tesadora laughed and finally stood.

  ‘Look after each other, you silly fools. All this running around will end with someone getting caught. Rafuel insists that one of those men is onto him.’

  ‘Which one?’ Phaedra asked, her stomach twisting at the thought of being captured.

  ‘The squat one with fair hair,’ Quintana responded. ‘The hangman.’

  They both stared at her. Phaedra shivered to see the look of terror on Quintana’s face.

  Phaedra knew exactly who she was referring to. He was the one always whispering in Donashe’s ear.

  ‘He wants to impress Donashe and seems to resent our Matteo,’ Tesadora said. ‘You’ll protect yourselves in numbers. Not on your own.’

  With that she walked away.

  Phaedra felt Quintana studying her.

  ‘We’re going to need weapons,’ Quintana said.

  ‘And where will we get these weapons?’

  ‘I watched Froi.’ Quintana crawled outside. ‘We’re going to have to be practical. Come.’

  Phaedra followed reluctantly and watched the Princess collect sturdy tree limbs and scrounge for stone.

  ‘We can’t survive with only a dagger and bare hands to find us food,’ the now Princess of Practicality said. ‘We’re going to have to make spears. That way we can better catch the trout. Further downstream I saw an elk, too.’

  ‘Spears? An elk? You’ll never catch an elk,’ Phaedra said.

  ‘I’m hungry.’ There was the cold determination again. ‘If I’m hungry, so is this child and if I have to catch an elk to feed it, I’ll do it.’

  She ordered Phaedra to collect a certain type of stone, describing its features. Phaedra collected anything she could find, holding them up in her skirt to show her. Quintana chose carefully and made rude sounds of annoyance if Phaedra had collected one not to her liking.

  ‘It’s for a purpose, fool. We need to make a flint fuse. This,’ Quintana said, selecting a stone, ‘will not do. And we need a hammer stone to shape it.’

  Then they collected more branches and Quintana measured two to both their heights. And the more Phaedra watched the certainty in her movements, the more she found herself responding to the Princess’s orders.

  Once they were ready, they sat in the shelter working at creating a spearhead out of flint, using the hammer stone. Phaedra enjoyed hearing nothing but the sounds of their labour.

  Once or twice she felt Quintana’s eyes on her, but she didn’t want to look up. It was too small a space to endure her stare, so Phaedra kept her head down.

  ‘I only enjoyed it with the Lumateran … Froi,’ Quintana said quietly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It.’

  Phaedra’s peace was over. She felt an anger rise up inside her at the memory of her humiliation that day with Lucian and the Lumaterans.

  ‘You’re mocking me.’

  ‘I’m not at all.’

  Phaedra studied her suspiciously, hoping that any conversation about mating would not take place again. She was happy when they continued their work in silence. But not for long.

  ‘Even if he did live,’ Quintana said, her hands clenched fiercely around the hammer stone and flint spearhead, ‘there’s no life for us together.’

  Don’t let me want to like her, Phaedra pleaded with the gods. Don’t let her bewitch me like she’s bewitched Vestie of the Flatlands and Tesadora.

  The Princess glanced down at her belly. ‘One of the many blessings of this is that I don’t ever have to lie with a man again. If they don’t kill me, they’ll wed me to some idiot nobleman, and do you know what I’ll say on my wedding night? I’ll say, “Charyn already has an heir and cursebreaker. Leave me to my peace.”’

  Quintana sounded weary of the world, and her focus was back on her task.

  ‘How did you learn to do that?’ Phaedra asked quietly, watching her shape the stone.

  ‘I have a good head for detail. I watch. I learn.’

  There was arrogance in her voice, as if everyone else was a total fool.

  ‘Then if you watch and learn, why is it that you can’t do your hair? Something so simple?’ Phaedra tried to lighten the mood.

  Quintana looked up, questioningly.

  ‘I think you’re being mean.’

  ‘No, actually I spoke in jest,’ Phaedra said.

  ‘Well, you’re not very good at being funny, Phaedra. Don’t try it again.’

  And they left it at that.

  They worked for the rest of the afternoon, scraping stone against stone, sharpening the flint on each side. By the time the sky began to darken, Phaedra’s hands were bloody, every line and crevice filled with filth. Quintana stood, handed Phaedra the tree limb of her length, and they both forced the stone into the end of the branch until it was secure. Quintana gripped the branch at its centre and made a move to jab at Phaedra, her savage teeth showing a hint of glee. Phaedra stumbled back, her throat constricting. Their very mad princess was now armed. Apart from Donashe and his men finding them, Phaedra couldn’t think of anything more frightening.

  ‘You try,’ Quintana said and Phaedra held the weapon. Quintana adjusted Phaedra’s hand until her grip on the spear was firm.

  ‘If the Mont holds a dagger to your throat again,’ the Princess promised coldly, ‘I’ll rip him from crown to heel.’

  Phaedra shivered. She saw the vicious teeth appear again in a smile of satisfaction.

  ‘Let’s go slaughter something,’ Quintana said. ‘We’ll see if they call me useless with their bellies filled.’

  ‘You’ve got to stop saying that,’ Phaedra said quietly. ‘About the women thinking you’re useless.’
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br />   ‘You’re the one who’s said it yourself about both of us,’ Quintana taunted. ‘And I’m sure you and the women have called me other names. An abomination? A whore? Have I missed anything? Go on! Speak the truth.’

  Phaedra swallowed hard. Oh, all those words and more. Mad. Indulged. Delusional. Cold. Vicious. Broken.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what we’ve said in the past; you need to endear yourself to your people, Your Majesty,’ Phaedra said.

  Quintana leant forward conspiratorially, as if someone was close by. ‘I’m not too fussed about that title, really, Phaedra. It’s what they used to call my father, and I only stress the use of it when I’m dealing with the likes of those fishwives in the cave. You may refer to me as …’

  She thought for a moment, her brow creased in thought.

  ‘You may refer to me as Your Highness, instead.’

  Phaedra couldn’t stop a laugh.

  ‘I think I’m going to call you Quintana, actually.’

  Quintana’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Only because the Queen of Lumatere is referred to as Isaboe by those close to her.’ Phaedra nodded, enjoying herself. ‘Froi called her Isaboe as well. If the Queen of Lumatere discovers that those close to the Queen of Charyn use such a formal title … well, she’ll think that the Queen of Charyn can’t make friends.’

  Quintana’s contemplation was thorough.

  ‘She’s not as beautiful as people say, you know,’ Quintana said. ‘But the little person Vistie was.’

  ‘Vestie.’

  ‘The little person has a voice … much like someone I once knew … my sister, if you’d like to know.’

  Phaedra was surprised. ‘I didn’t realise you had a sister.’

  ‘In here I did,’ Quintana said, pointing to herself.

  Phaedra thought a moment. ‘I understand about Vestie. The little ones on the mountain … they made me feel a joy and sadness beyond reckoning.’

  ‘Is that how you feel about your Mont?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about him,’ Phaedra said quietly.

  ‘He’s very handsome.’

  Phaedra had to agree and, glancing at Quintana, she thought that perhaps the Princess wasn’t so bad after all.

  ‘It’s a pity about his swiving, though.’

  And Phaedra saw her smile with a hint of mischief in it and she couldn’t help smiling herself and then she was laughing. They both were, and the savage teeth were the most joyous sight Phaedra had seen for a long time. It was as if they were dancing. There it was. Suddenly the strangeness of Quintana of Charyn’s face made sense. Because it was a face meant for laughing, but it had never been given a chance. It robbed Phaedra of her breath.

  In the palace village, Lucian said his goodbyes to Lord Tascan. He had come to the capital for discussions with Finnikin and Sir Topher that had been a great success. Finnikin’s market day would be open to other kingdoms for the first time since the end of the curse. It would bring to Lumatere cloth merchants from Belegonia, drapers from Osteria, weavers from Sarnak. All interested in Mont fleece, which every Mont knew was second to none in the kingdom, even the land. Added to that was Lord Tascan’s suggestion of a possible exchange of goods. His villagers grew sugar beet and barley.

  ‘We’ll talk on market day,’ Lucian said. ‘I’m to judge the barley,’ he added. ‘A neutral eye is required, according to our consort.’

  Suddenly Lady Zarah was there beside her father.

  ‘What a surprise to see you here, Father,’ she trilled softly. She said something to Lucian, but he could hardly hear and was forced to move closer. There was too much noise in the palace village today.

  ‘Just saying my goodbyes to the lad here,’ Lord Tascan said, handing Lucian a flask.

  ‘The best wine this land has to offer,’ he promised. ‘A gift from the King of Osteria for my service to him.’

  Lucian thanked him and placed the wine in his pack.

  ‘I’ll walk you to your horse,’ Lady Zarah said. She held a hand to his sleeve and Lucian instantly felt every pair of eyes in the palace village on them.

  ‘Will you always live in your dark little cottage?’ she asked as they reached his mount. ‘It’s sweetly quaint.’

  ‘It suits me,’ he said. ‘And I love my yata, but I wouldn’t want to be living with her and the aunts in the big house.’ He chuckled at the thought.

  Lady Zarah laughed too, but it seemed forced. She was a pretty girl and he could grow to love her. He knew that. She was a Lumateran and he could grow to love any Lumateran girl. But he was already imagining himself trapped inside his cottage with no room to breathe and having to stand so close just to hear her voice. Sweet as it was.

  He saw Finnikin with Perri at the tannery and took Zarah’s hand.

  ‘I see my cousin,’ he said, kissing her hand gently because the Mont girls had taught him that a lady liked to have her hand kissed. ‘I’ll come visit the next time I’m in the village.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that, Lucian,’ she said.

  Not Lu-cien.

  ‘Sweet, sweet girl,’ Finnikin said politely when Lucian reached him. They watched as Zarah walked away, whispering to her father.

  ‘Oh yes, the sweetest.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Very sweet. I say it all the time. What a sweet girl.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  And then the discussion of Zarah was complete because there wasn’t much else to say and Finnikin mentioned a hunt and Lucian was relieved to speak of something that had his heart racing. Close by, Perri was saddling a horse that wasn’t his own.

  ‘He’s been strangely wounded in spirit since we returned,’ Finnikin said quietly about the guard. ‘First this thing with Froi, and then returning to find out about Tesadora’s estrangement from Isaboe. Why didn’t you put a stop to it, Lucian?’

  Lucian couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  ‘There were daggers, Finn. Women with daggers. Not just any women. Your wife. Tesadora.’

  They watched Perri walk the horse towards them, stopping to speak to the Priestess of the Lagrami novices. Through his ties with Tesadora, Perri had a friendship with the novices and the Priestess and it was known he visited both cloisters in the village and forest on occasion. It was strange to think of Perri sitting and drinking tea and eating cake with such women, as though he was civilised. But Perri had always been difficult to work out.

  ‘He’s on his way to the valley to see Tesadora, so finish your business and go with him,’ Finnikin whispered quickly as Perri approached. ‘It will be good for him not to be on his own.’

  As much as Lucian enjoyed Perri’s company, he had wanted serenity on his journey home. He desired nothing more than silence as a companion and truly hoped Perri wanted the same. Trips home to the mountain were long and there was nothing worse than someone chewing at his ears with words.

  ‘… and then, not only am I dealing with the fact that she feigned her own death,’ he said to Perri as they passed the inn of Balconio hours later, ‘I also find out that she discusses our marriage with her companions. Our spousal bed. And do you want to know the truth, Perri? Without going into infinite detail about what took place between us those nights … two nights … did I mention that it was only two times? Have you seen how small she is? She reaches here …’ Lucian said, pointing to his chest. ‘What was I to do? The first time she cried, and the second time, I know I hurt her. No woman had ever wept in my bed so I spent some nights at Yata’s to relieve her of the fear and now I discover that she believed I was lying with one of the Mont girls …’

  When they reached the mountain, all seemed calm among the Monts, so Lucian decided to accompany Perri down to the valley.

  ‘No, you stay. It’s fine,’ Perri said and Lucian heard weariness in his voice.

  ‘No, no. I’ll travel with you. It’s a good thing, because you seem quite drowsy.’

  ‘Pity … because I believe you’re needed on this mountain, Lucian,’ Perri said. ‘Here comes Potts.�


  ‘Ignore him.’

  They took the path down to the valley.

  ‘Anyway, what I was saying,’ Lucian continued, ‘is that this business with Lord Tascan’s family has now become an issue because when I started seeing his daughter Zarah, I believed that my wife was dead and now she’s not, and although I know that all I need to do is see my cousin Isaboe to speak of the marriage with the Charynite … do you notice how I say that now? How I don’t refer to her by her name? Well, I know that Cousin Isaboe can sever this marriage based on the grounds of our separation and the fact that the union brought no peace between our kingdoms.’

  ‘Then why don’t you do that?’ Perri finally spoke, bluntly.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Have the marriage severed?’

  Lucian stared at him, stunned. ‘With …’

  ‘With the Charynite,’ Perri said. ‘Have the marriage with the Charynite severed.’

  ‘Phaedra?’

  ‘I’d hate to refer to her by name, Lucian. Isn’t that what you want?’

  Lucian bristled. ‘I think you should keep silent now, Perri. You’ve said too much.’

  Lucian didn’t speak for the rest of the journey into the valley until they saw Tesadora’s tent in the hollow and he thought it wise to warn Perri.

  ‘She’s angry and she’s hurt,’ he said. ‘She’ll be very frosty in her response to you because of your duty to the Queen and you might just find yourself back up that mountain, because when Tesadora’s furious, you have to give her space.’

  Perri stared at Lucian, impassively.

  ‘Yes, we’ve actually become friends … almost,’ Lucian continued, ‘and I think she’s beginning to trust me. She’s not going to want to talk about what happened with the Queen and she’s especially not going to like the fact that you’ve come down this mountain with not so much as a note from Isaboe. So let me do the talking, Perri. This may not end well for you if you act too prematurely.’

  Lucian watched as Tesadora stepped out of her tent, having heard their horses. Perri leapt off his horse and a moment later she was in his arms and they were kissing in a way that had even the horses tossing their manes in surprise.

 

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