The Exile's Curse

by M. J. Scott

  Lucien looked less than enthusiastic, but he had given her his word. He stood, crossed to the door, and took down the ward.

  * * *

  "Well?" Honore asked after everyone was seated again at the table. Irina had returned with a tall, rangy blonde woman who Chloe assumed was Royve Ava. The healer ignored everyone and came over to her, gesturing for her to raise her arm. She held it out obediently and watched Lucien instead of the bandage being unwound yet again. She'd caught a glimpse of the wound when Irina cleaned it earlier, and, while she wasn't generally squeamish, it was always different when it was her own flesh and blood. Irina gave her a sideways look and rolled her eyes toward the sejerin as if asking what was going on, but she didn't ask outright.

  "We will do as the sejerin has requested," Lucien said.

  The king looked relieved. The seer more triumphant. What exactly was she up to? She shouldn't want to disrupt the negotiations if she truly wanted balance restored. Unless she had another game to play. Was she trying to help House Elannon? Or did her allegiance fall elsewhere?

  Silya rapped the table. "Good. We should proceed with haste. Restore the balance."

  "No," Ava said bluntly. She spoke at the same time as the king. Royve Ava gestured at Mikvel, her focus still mostly on Chloe's arm. "My apologies, Your Majesty. Please continue."

  "I would hear your reason first, Royve," Mikvel said.

  The healer lifted her gaze. Her green eyes were steady and undisturbed by the glare Silya directed at her. "Lady de Montesse's arm needs attention. After which she will need to rest. She and Lord Castaigne both need sleep and food and warmth to recover after a night in the mountains. There is no balance in rushing them into sickness, Your Majesty. They will be well enough in the morning for things to proceed."

  The king nodded. "Thank you, Royve. I agree. Sejerin, they have agreed to hold to our customs. Which means we must hold to them, too. They must wed according to the rites. There is perhaps not time for a tscherov and such, and, of course, they are far from home. But the priests must be informed and the marriage marks exchanged, at least. You wish to uphold balance, so we must do things properly. Lord Castaigne and his betrothed will rest today. Tomorrow we will do the pre-wedding ceremonies and then the wedding the day after. The queen and I aren't due to complete another ritual until the day after that. All will be back in balance and satisfied. Does anyone have anything else to say?"

  Irina, who was holding Ava’s bag of supplies for her, said, "We could organize a tscherov. Katiya and I, some of the others, and the Illvyan women. If you can spare my sister for a few hours tomorrow. The lieutenant has been very kind to both of us. Katiya will want to celebrate with her."

  Chloe didn't know whether that was true—or, indeed, if there was much to truly celebrate—or whether Irina was testing her new brother-in-law to see how far he was willing to indulge her. But she didn’t care if it would buy her a little more time to understand what she’d just agreed to do.

  Mikvel nodded and waved a hand. "Talk to Katiya. Lord Castaigne and I have other business to discuss."

  More meetings with Elannon, Chloe thought. Which she would not be part of.

  Chapter 25

  Chloe had barely finished bathing the next morning when Allita knocked on the bathroom door.

  "Come in." She eased herself into a robe. Her rib was still slightly sore. Soaking in the warm water helped, but she’d need more of Allita’s assistance than usual to dress to avoid straining them more than necessary. And because she had no idea where most of her wardrobe was.

  She’d been moved to a new room in the royal family’s wing after the meeting with the king yesterday. Katiya had said it would make it easier for the wedding celebrations to be held and for Chloe to relax, but she suspected the real reason was to remove any chance that she and Lucien would break any more rules and upset the seers more before they could be safely married.

  Married. Goddess. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, still not quite believing it.

  Allita slipped through the door bearing a bowl holding a glass container of some sort of salve and some linen cloths. "Royve Ava sent this for your arm, my lady. Do you want me to apply it for you?"

  "No, thank you. I think I can manage, if you just open the jar." The healer had closed the wound on her arm, but the scar was still fresh and tender.

  Allita nodded, put the jar down on the counter, and opened it before bustling back out into the bedroom. Chloe applied the salve to her scar cautiously. It was an odd shade of green but smelled pleasant enough, and the ache under the skin eased as she rubbed it in.

  When she was finished, she scowled again at her reflection. What had she gotten herself into? She hadn't been allowed to talk to Lucien again yet. Once she and Lucien had announced they were willing to marry, Irina, Katiya, and Royve Ava had brought her to this room, the healer had worked on her arm some more, and then plied her with food and several cups of herbal tea that had sent her to sleep.

  She'd woken when Honore arrived to check on her. Not the most comfortable conversation. Honore had delivered a gentle but clear lecture on all the ways Chloe had been foolish in sleeping with Lucien and then by getting caught with him in the cave. Not to mention forming a bond with him. She couldn't argue with the former part and had bitten her tongue about the latter. She understood Honore was duty bound, as her superior officer, to tell a junior when they had screwed things up, but the storm and what came after were not Chloe's fault, and the bond had been necessary.

  Just as marrying Lucien was necessary if she wanted to survive this mission with her chance at a career as a diplomat intact. At least Honore hadn't discharged her on the spot.

  After the colonel left, there'd been another round of healing and then more tea. She'd barely stirred until morning when Allita, who'd apparently been assigned with her in her new quarters, had woken her.

  There was no point scowling. She'd made her choices. Now she had to make the best of them. Even if that meant spending the day with Irina and Katiya and playing the radiant bride-to-be instead of doing any actual work.

  She left the bathroom to find Allita laying out clothes she didn't recognize on the bed. "Where did these come from?"

  Allita turned with a smile. "My lady, Her Majesty thought you might like to wear something traditional for the day. She sent these."

  A simple white gown and one of the long vests the Andalyssians wore lay on the covers. The vest was blue, its embroidery gold, similar to the colors in the gown that she'd worn to the wedding ball. Du Laq colors. Well, better that than de Montesse colors. Those would hardly be appropriate when she was about to marry Charl's best friend.

  She didn't want to think about what Charl would think. He was dead. Imogene, on the other hand...well, after she stopped laughing, she might be sympathetic, but the laughter would come first. Rightly so. It was ridiculous. Chloe had survived ten years in Anglion without falling foul of any rules, but a week in Andalyssia and she was a ruined woman unless she married the man most of Lumia assumed was her mortal enemy.

  Which he had been. But now...now she didn’t know what Lucien was to her. Temporary husband. Lover for a night. Those were not things that usually went along with being mortal enemies.

  Not to mention he'd saved her life. And had only agreed to this marriage to save her from the consequences. Hard to believe she should still hate him after that. It took effort to hold on to her anger. And she was tired of it. Tired of nursing old wounds and wishing she could fix old mistakes. Especially when it seemed she was still adding new ones to her tally.

  So yes, Imogene would laugh and then stand beside her as she divorced her second husband. One step up from widowhood, she supposed. But two marriages and no husbands to show for it before her thirty-fifth birthday felt careless. And really, this entire business had only reinforced her resolve not to try for a third.

  But first, she had to marry the second.

  She stroked a finger over an embroidered flower. "Of cour
se I'll wear them. That was very kind of Her Majesty. Will you do my hair in an Andalyssian style?" If she was going through with this, she might as well look the part. Maybe it would make it easier to continue down this path if she did.

  "Of course, my lady." Allita lifted a small fabric pouch from beside the dress. "This came for you, too. From Lord Castaigne."

  "It did?" She took the pouch, trying to hide her surprise. She hadn't expected anything from Lucien. Maybe a note. But the pouch was too heavy for just a note. She untied the laces that held it closed and tipped it upside down. A familiar gold ring fell out into her hand along with a folded sheet of paper. She put the note aside and stared at the ring.

  Lucien's signet ring. Not the one he had inherited from his father and now wore as Marq. This was a smaller one that he wore on the little finger of his right hand. A gift from his grandfather for his Ascension. She didn’t think she’d ever seen his hands without it, even though he wasn’t a man who wore much in the way of jewels. And now he was giving it to her?

  "A betrothal ring, my lady?" Allita peered at it. "Is that the customary style in Illvya? It looks like very good gold," she added, as though worried Chloe might take her comment the wrong way.

  "It is the custom to have a betrothal ring, yes," Chloe said, still staring down at the ring. Why had he sent her this? To keep up appearances? That would be like him. Not wanting her to have to answer questions. Though, honestly, she was far more likely to get questions about why they were marrying so quickly than why she didn't have a betrothal ring.

  Charl had given her a diamond. A family ring she'd left behind when she went to Anglion. She’d taken her wedding band. It had been proof of her widowhood in those early days. Eventually she'd stopped wearing it, and no one seemed to notice. She'd never quite been able to bring herself to sell it. Charl had commissioned it himself, so it was hers free and clear. Along with the memories it carried.

  It was hidden in one of her dresser drawers in her bedroom back in Lumia.

  And now, for a time at least, she would wear a new ring. Make new complicated memories of it and a man. Hopefully less tragic ones.

  She slipped the ring on. It fit, more or less, and she curled her fingers closed to admire it in the light. It was, as Allita had said, good gold, the band gleaming in the sunshine. The face of the signet was etched with the tower of the Castaigne family, three stars arching above it.

  What would Lucien’s family say if they knew what he was about to do? Goddess. She hoped Aristides would cooperate with a quick and quiet divorce when they returned. She didn’t need more disapproving in-laws to deal with.

  "It suits you," Allita declared. "But we must make haste. You are due to speak with the patrarch and Sejerin Silya in an hour, and then Lady Irina will take charge of the rest of the day."

  The patrarch wasn't as intimidating as she had feared. The priest kept his questions brief and seemed satisfied when she said she was marrying Lucien of her own free will. She resisted the urge to look at Silya as she answered, afraid she wouldn't be able to resist rolling her eyes. But the patrarch took her answer at face value and didn't offer any objections to the wedding occurring the next day. Of course, that might have been the presence of the queen, Honore, and Irina who’d accompanied her. A reminder that whatever the goddess and the balance might think about things, the more earthly powers in the kingdom wanted the marriage to be done with quickly so they could all return to more pressing matters.

  The patrarch and two of the svasyas performed a blessing rite, speaking seer tongue. Chloe risked a tiny thread of magic to see if she could see their magic, but despite a faint glow around the three men, she couldn't really tell what the purpose of the magic they used was. She decided to take it as goodwill and leave it at that.

  After the priests stepped back from the small altar fire, Silya took a turn. Chloe kept her eyes downcast to avoid more disapproval from the seer, though she didn’t entirely let go of her magic. Silya’s part of the rite didn’t seem to take long and ended with her proclaiming, "The balance will be restored."

  The words rang true. She’d forgotten about that, that she had a taste of Lucien’s power. She kept her face still, not wanting to give herself away. He’d told her not to use the power, but she hadn’t actually been trying to. So, at least, Silya believed what she was saying. Did that mean her concern was genuine? Though belief in the balance and Chloe and Lucien providing an opportunity for her to interfere with the negotiations weren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

  Chloe let go of her thread of magic again, feeling slightly guilty. Lucien had told her not to use the power. Hopefully he couldn't feel that she had. But still, unlike him, she'd sworn no oaths not to use it, and, frankly, when there were unknown people trying to manipulate her and him, she was going to use all means at her disposal to try and resist them.

  The small party Katiya and Irina arranged was far more enjoyable than the rites before it. Chloe even forgot for a time why exactly it was happening and relaxed. The Andalyssian women invited were mostly Uleniskas, Katiya and Irina’s mother and aunt and a few cousins. Along with the other Illvyan women. Lady Cela wasn’t included, to Chloe’s relief. Honore stayed for a time before leaving for yet another meeting, but Giane and the others stayed.

  They ate and played silly games and drank wine and admired Chloe's dress and the ring on her hand. There wasn't a tscherov as such, though Katiya and Irina had both produced one of the woven bands and slipped them over Chloe's wrists. Katiya's was white and silver and then paler versions of the colors of the balance. Icy green and blue and blossom pink and yellow. Irina's was bolder—she'd woven black and a red similar to Chloe's hair with emerald green, then silver, blue, and gold.

  "Like your dress at the wedding," she said, running her finger along the band.

  The wave and swirl design was lovely and Chloe smiled at Irina. The party and the tscherov may have been frivolous, but they were a comfort. A reminder she had made friends here, even if there were some amongst the court who didn't wish her well.

  After a few hours, Sejerin Neni arrived, accompanying a young woman dressed in indigo blue who carried a square basket covered with a cloth of the same color.

  Irina's face lit at the sight of the two of them, and she went to greet them, hurrying them back over to Chloe and Katiya.

  "Chloe, this is Mila. She's the Tintzmach. Come to do your marriage marks."

  "Oh," Chloe said, blinking. She'd forgotten those. Part of Mikvel’s reasoning for at least a short delay, that she and Lucien needed the marks. "Here?"

  "No, there's a smaller room next door. We thought you'd be more comfortable with that given you don't know us well. You can have company with you—Lieutenant Giane, perhaps, or one of us if you'd like, or just you and Mila," Katiya said. "And remember, this is just indigo. No needles." She touched her own chest as though seeking the mark over her own heart. "It doesn't hurt, I promise."

  Chloe nodded. It wasn't pain she was worried about. Well, not the kind of pain Katiya was trying to reassure her about. A few symbols drawn with dye weren't going to harm her.

  Getting through this marriage and a divorce would likely do some damage. But she had pushed Lucien into this, so there was no point in borrowing trouble against the future, as Madame Simsa would say. She wasn't a seer—Andalyssian or Illvyan—and she didn't know what would come. She just had to handle the present.

  "Maybe you could come with me? Tell me how this is all supposed to work," she said to Katiya. "After all, you've just gone through it yourself." She didn't want to mess part of the ceremony up and make things worse. Sejerin Neni wasn't as intimidating as Silya, but she seemed less friendly than she had at Katiya’s tscherov. What did the seers see when they looked at her that worried them?

  Hopefully nothing after tomorrow.

  The smaller parlor was warm, the fire burning steadily.

  The Tintzmach busied herself laying the indigo cloth over the white one laid on the tiny table and setting out
her supplies. No needles, as promised. Just a jar of pigment, a couple bottles, several delicate brushes, sheets of paper, and a pencil.

  "Now, my lady," she said in a surprisingly deep voice, "if you come and sit here with me, we can discuss the design."

  "Discuss?” Chloe said, looking to Katiya.

  "You get to choose," Katiya said with an encouraging smile.

  "There aren't particular runes or something I should choose?

  "No, we keep those for seers and priests. For weddings, it is the intention that matters, not so much the symbols. The marks are there to remind you of the intention behind your wedding vows." The sejerin looked meaningfully at Chloe.

  "I see," Chloe said. What was the symbol for “I intend this to be temporary”? Not a question to ask aloud. So she took the seat that Mila had indicated. "But what kind of thing do people usually choose?"

  "For nobles, usually the choice is between the common symbols of the two houses," Katiya said. "One each for the husband and the wife. Some add additional elements if they wish to include something personally meaningful."

  "What is yours?" Chloe asked, then shook her head. "Sorry, was that rude? To ask? You don't need to answer me."

  "No," Katiya said. "Not rude. Though most people probably wouldn't ask the queen. Mine is Misha's mountain and a deer. The deer is one of the symbols of my family. And I added a ring of starflowers. The first flowers Misha ever gave me. He picked them out of my mother's garden on a visit to our family home. He got in trouble for it, but I thought it was very kind. I believe I was six and he was eight." Her smile was both nostalgic and pleased.

  The smile of a woman well satisfied with her love. It was a long time since Chloe had seen anything close to that look on her own face, let alone felt the emotion.