Voyager of the Crown
Page 31
Mistress Falken pursed her lips again. “I’ll consider it. Send Miss Stouffer to meet with me this afternoon. I’ll expect the return of your fare at the same time.”
“Certainly.” Zara rose and offered Mistress Falken her hand. “Thank you for being so accommodating.”
Out on the docks, Zara drew in a deep breath of briny air. It had been six days since they’d retrieved the Device, and she’d needed every one of them to put her affairs in order. She missed Ransom, who’d left with Kossrek Tamun’s boat only hours after the ordeal. He ought to be back any day now, with his affairs in order so they could begin their journey together. In his absence, she’d begun to worry about the decision. Yes, she cared about him, and yes, she wanted to get to know him better, but was a four-week journey aboard ship really the best way to do so? Suppose they got tired of each other? Suppose she’d made the wrong decision?
Her eye was caught by the movement of someone running across the docks toward her. It took her a moment to remember the girl—Cerise, the one who’d taken her to Manachen when she had to rescue Ransom. “Miss Farrell,” Cerise said when she came panting up to her. “I’ve a message from Miss Blackwood. She wants you to report to her at the embassy immediately.”
“Immediately?” Zara felt no urgency to obey that summons, but she wasn’t going to deliberately ignore it just to irritate Blackwood. “All right. Thank you, Cerise.”
The young woman beamed. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
No way to explain Zara had spent a long lifetime remembering people she might have need of later. “You have a distinctive hat,” she said, making Cerise laugh.
Zara took a carriage to the embassy, not wanting to be wilting and sweaty when she arrived. She hadn’t seen Blackwood in the six days since last leaving her office, and she didn’t want to be at a disadvantage when she already didn’t know why the woman wanted to see her. It certainly wasn’t to thank her.
The foyer was empty when Zara arrived at the embassy, so she strode down the hall toward Blackwood’s office, not feeling inclined to wait on James’s schedule. She knocked, and entered at Blackwood’s muffled, “Come in.”
Blackwood concealed the briefest look of irritation when she saw who her visitor was. “Miss Farrell,” she said. “The King would like a word with you.”
“The communicator is repaired?”
“My Deviser is a crafty woman.” Blackwood removed the communicator from a drawer and turned and pressed the stem in a complicated series of movements. The communicator glowed green, then purple, then green again, and Blackwood set it on the desk. “Miss Farrell for his Majesty,” she said, her voice a little too loud as if she were speaking to someone hard of hearing.
“One moment,” a voice said. Blackwood stood and nodded to Zara, then left the room. Zara waited. It was longer than a moment before Jeffrey said, “Rowena?”
“It’s me, Jeffrey.”
“I’m not sure where to begin. Thank you for retrieving the Device. It’s more than I asked of you.”
“Someone convinced me it was my duty. You’re welcome.”
“I hope I didn’t make you feel obligated. I know you’ve left that behind you.”
“Well, I hope you don’t feel I usurped your authority. You’re the King, Jeffrey, and I…well, you wouldn’t believe me if I said I’d obey your orders.” Jeffrey laughed, an odd, hollow barking sound. “But I don’t second-guess your decisions. That’s not my job.”
“I’m grateful for it. Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if you…hadn’t left. I hope you’ve had a good life, and you don’t regret anything.”
“No more than anyone does.” She thought of Ransom, and for the first time in nearly a week did so without any reservations.
“Is there anything I can do for you? By proxy, that is. Anything you need?”
“I could use some money. I’ve decided to travel and I need to repay my fare for getting here.”
“I’ll tell Calliope to make some of the embassy funds available to you. Anything else?”
“I…don’t think so. But thank you.”
“Let me know if that changes. I regret that you had to leave Longbourne. It’s small comfort that Mother was able to see you before she died. I know she missed you, all those years.”
“I missed her, too. Missed all of you.”
“If there were a way—”
“I know, Jeffrey. Don’t you think I’ve given it thought?”
“I want you to know you’re not forgotten. Imogen and I know where you are, and Telaine and Ben. You don’t have to be alone.”
She thought of Ransom again. “I’m not. I’m starting a new life. And for the first time…I don’t feel resentful of losing the old one.”
She left Blackwood’s office in possession of a purse full of guilders and went in search of Belinda at the lodging house they’d both taken rooms in. “Mistress Falken is agreeable to meeting you,” she said when Belinda opened her door. “The rest is up to you.”
“No worries,” Belinda said. “I’m good at making people like me. And the job sounds interesting.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you worked your way up to partner someday. Working in Dineh-Karit has its challenges, but you’re more than a match for them.”
“So long as they don’t involve sleeping on the jungle floor and eating snake, I’m sure that’s true.” Belinda gestured to the room’s lone chair and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Ransom’s not back yet?”
“He had a lot to do. He should be back any day now.”
“I can’t believe you’re traveling to Veribold together. It’s so romantic.”
“I hope so. That is, I hope it’s romantic and not stupid.”
“You’re well suited, for all you were at each other’s throats at the beginning.”
Zara smiled in memory. “Only room for one queen in a hive, was it? Fortunately, we realized we weren’t in competition.”
“Oh, you’re still the queen,” Belinda said. Zara coughed and waved away Belinda’s concern and the offer of a glass of water. “I mean,” she continued, “Ransom’s used to doing things his way, but you’re used to other people doing things your way. I almost wish I could go with you to see who you end up being.”
“Maybe we’ll come back here someday,” Zara said, and let Belinda hug her. She was getting better at displaying affection, but friendly hugs still made her uncomfortable. Past time she got over that.
She introduced Belinda to Mistress Falken a few hours later, when she brought the money for her fare, then strolled back to the lodging house along the docks. That was Belinda settled; Zara had no doubt Mistress Falken would see the benefit of hiring her. She was probably a better choice than Zara, who had no experience with the business. It was tempting to think this was all how heaven had intended it to be, but Zara didn’t think heaven was quite so bloodthirsty as to have wanted it all to play out with so much loss of life.
Theo was happily ensconced in his aunt’s home, taking up his interrupted apprenticeship. Mistress Jenkins had been thrilled with his tales of adventure and hadn’t begrudged them the loan of her gems, once she knew to what use they’d been put. Zara had seen him several times when the affable lady had invited all of them to supper. It was a relief to know he’d found his footing, and she hoped it would be a good long time before he had to set foot on a ship again.
The Zakharis, on the other hand, had disappeared into the Tremontanan enclave. “We dare not be Eskandelic,” Cantara had said, “for fear someone will recognize us.”
“But you’ll stand out among the Tremontanans,” Belinda had countered. “Isn’t that just as bad?”
“There nowhere safe is,” Arjan said, “but Tremontane is better than Veribold, who does not accept foreigners easily. We will make our way as best we can.”
“Good luck,” Zara had said. She hadn’t seen them since. She prayed Dineh-Karit was, in fact, far enough to hide them from the wrath of the Takjashi.
Smiling, Zara took his hand. “You’ve already done it.”
Ransom kissed her lightly on the lips. “I have returned the boat, sold my supplies, found a home for Nettles, and sent off a dozen messages. I am entirely free of responsibilities and am ready to take on an ocean voyage with you.”
“Funny, I was just thinking my responsibilities here are at an end. Shall we inquire after fares to Veribold?”
“I did that when I arrived. There’s a ship to Veribold leaving on the evening tide. I hope that’s not too soon. It’s a cargo ship, but they have a few berths free.”
“You are eager.”
“I just don’t believe in wasting time. What about it, Rowena? Are you ready for another voyage?”
Rowena. The name hung in the air between them. There was one more thing she had to do, that she wasn’t going to do standing on the docks of Goudge’s Folly surrounded by hundreds of people. “Let me pack my bag,” she said, “and we can leave.”
***
Zara packed her spare shirt into her new bag and fastened the toggles. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d done this the first time, back in Kingsport. All her possessions in a single bag, a purse full of enough coin to take her through Veribold—she probably could have gotten more out of Jeffrey, but that would have felt like being beholden to him. So soon, to start a new life, this one with a companion who might turn out to be something more. But if it didn’t, what then? Her old doubts resurfaced. Would he resent her for dragging him away from the jungles where he was so needed? He hadn’t seemed at all put out by the idea of going off to Veribold, where he didn’t speak the language, but anything could happen in four weeks—
A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie. “The ship’s leaving in two hours,” Ransom said through the door. “Are you ready?”
Zara took a deep breath. No more cowardice. “I am,” she said, opening the door, “but—”
He stopped her words with a kiss. “That’s in case you were about to tell me you’d changed your mind. Just a reminder of why we’re doing this.”
“That’s not it. Will you come in and shut the door? I need to tell you something.”
“That sounds ominous.” He was still smiling, but there was uncertainty in his eyes. What would he think, when she told him? He was clearly expecting something awful.
“You wanted to know my original name,” she said, and relief replaced uncertainty.
“I didn’t think it was such a serious thing,” he said. “Well?”
Zara took another deep breath. “My name is Zara.”
To her astonishment, Ransom laughed. “That was my maternal grandmother’s name. I think there must be half a million Zaras in that generation, named after the infant princess. Zara North left her mark…” His voice trailed off. “You were part of that generation, weren’t you?”
“I was.” Her throat was too dry for more. She didn’t know how to go on. “They—I wasn’t named after the Queen, though. They were all…named after me.”
Ransom blinked. His mouth went slack with astonishment. “Queen Zara died,” he said.
“Queen Zara was shot through the head. No one could survive that.”
“No one,” Ransom said. He took a lock of her black hair in his fingers. “Sweet holy heaven. No wonder the King trusted you. You’re Zara North.”
“You can see why I couldn’t just tell you my name.”
“I do. Rowena—Zara—”
“Rowena. I can’t use the other name, even now.”
Ransom sat down heavily on the bed. “You weren’t aging,” he said.
“Imagine if I were still Queen.”
“I am. What a nightmare. Everyone would know—sweet heaven, are you the only one in the North family with inherent magic?”
“That’s irrelevant. All it takes is one, and the people start to question our fitness to rule. And then there’s chaos as the provincial lords go to war over who should rule instead.”
“I know. Did you—you must have faked your death. How?”
“I can’t answer all your questions until you’ve answered one of mine.” She swallowed again. Was her throat going to be dry forever? “Does this…change anything?”
“What—you mean, about you and me?” He looked up at her. “Aside from how I am now incredibly intimidated by you?”
It felt like a blow to the chest. “I see,” she said, feeling her eyes begin to ache.
Ransom stood and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “That was a stupid joke. I’m sorry. Of course it doesn’t change anything. I think you’ve never stopped being Zara North just because you’ve changed your name. It explains absolutely everything about who you are.”
She returned his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told this to. Everyone else who knew found out by accident.”
“Like your grandniece. The King’s daughter?”
“No. Princess Elspeth’s only child.”
“That’s Telaine North Hunter. I had a crush on her when I was young. Sweet heaven. You haven’t seen history, you are history.”
“That makes me feel very old, Ransom.”
“Sorry. Is it all right if it takes me a while to get used to this?”
“Just so long as you don’t start looking at me in a funny way.”
Ransom drew back enough that she could see his face. “Just this way,” he said, and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers.
Epilogue
Four months later
The narrow stairwell was dark enough Zara had to tread carefully as she climbed, lifting her enveloping robe out of the way of her feet. She ascended the last flight of stairs and, slightly out of breath, pushed the door open. It creaked as it always did—she kept meaning to oil the hinges, but there were always other things to do, and she didn’t come up here very often, anyway.
The fragrance of desert flowers, heated by the early summer sun now dipping below the horizon, wafted over her as she crossed the rooftop garden to look out over Haizea. It reminded her of Aurilien, at least what she remembered of it—all those tiny light Devices outlining streets and making the larger buildings, like the opera house and the Jaixante, the residence of the Veriboldan King, look as if they were burning with color. Unlike Aurilien, Haizea’s lights were dozens of colors so the city sparkled like a dowager Countess’s jewelry cabinet, and while Zara retained a loyalty to her home city, her eye was seduced by the Veriboldan capital’s beauty.
She leaned against the wall and looked down the five stories at the street below. It was busy with pedestrians, none of whom looked up or noticed her at all. It was fun to watch them pass by and try to guess where they were going, though most of them were no doubt going home to supper. She ought to make supper before Ransom returned, but she was an indifferent cook and had never wanted to improve, so they were likely going to the restaurant down the street again. It wasn’t fair to make him cook when he’d had such a long day.
Faint music drifted to her ears from a couple of streets over. One of the large families that lived there was celebrating someone’s birthday. They should stop by, say hello; ordinary Veriboldans weren’t as standoffish as the ruling class, but it was good to maintain those friendships nevertheless, remind them that foreign didn’t have to mean alien. And Ransom had tended to the grandmother, who had an illness healing couldn’t fix but medicine could. Watching him work…it filled her with such love for him.
It should have been a surprise, falling in love with him on the ship going north after only two weeks of travel. Two weeks in which they’d spent nearly every minute together. She’d never been bored. She’d never been sick of his presence, never found excuses to get away from him.
It wasn’t just the kissing—there hadn’t been much of that, really, what with limited p
rivacy and her feeling that they shouldn’t be alone together in her berth. It was the joy of talking to him, of telling him things she’d never told another soul and letting him do the same for her. It was finding out all the things they had in common and arguing over the things they didn’t. And now she couldn’t imagine being without him. That he’d fallen in love with her just as quickly…Zara didn’t believe in destiny, not after the life she’d led, but it was hard not to think of their love as meant to be, whoever or whatever it was that did the meaning.
She saw Ransom approaching then, moving against the tide of the crowds. She always recognized him no matter how far away he was, though his blond hair wasn’t uncommon in Haizea and he wasn’t taller than the average man. She just knew him, knew the way he held his shoulders, the way he greeted people, even strangers. The confidence that set him apart from other men, self-assured without being cocky.
She leaned out farther and watched him approach. He wasn’t moving as if he were tired, though he’d seemed distracted earlier that day, when she was translating for him at a new mother’s bedside. Supper, then the party, then an early bed if not a shared one.
Zara bowed her head and closed her eyes. What did she want? If she loved him, and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him, why didn’t she propose marriage? It wasn’t Hank’s specter; he wouldn’t have wanted her to pass on happiness out of remembered loyalty to him. It wasn’t fear of being rejected, because she could feel Ransom’s love for her in his kiss and in the look in his eyes, every day they were together.
She clenched her fists and her eyes tight shut. He was going to die someday, and she wouldn’t. That was it. She liked to tell herself she was no coward, but the plain truth was she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him the way she’d lost Hank. He’s not leaving, even if you never marry, she told herself, you’ll outlive him no matter what vows you do or don’t make, but her heart quailed at the thought, as if marriage would make the loss greater.
The door squealed, startling her. “I thought you might be here, when your room was empty,” Ransom said. He crossed the garden to stand beside her and kiss her, a light, welcoming kiss. “Anything wrong?”