“Your father asks—”
“Fine,” Cassandra said, hoping they would lead her there in silence.
She found it uncomfortable when people referred to Arkus as her father. It just didn’t feel real yet. Nor did it feel completely true, as if she wasn’t the baby girl who Darnuir had left behind in Aurisha. Nor did she feel settled within the palace or the city. She felt as if she might start running at any moment and never look back. Everything was too new. The boundaries of her new life had yet to be drawn and she was on the precipice between this new existence becoming either another prison or, possibly, very distantly, her home.
The trip to Arkus’ council chambers had passed her by and the Chevaliers led her inside. “The King will be with you shortly,” Gellick said as he closed the door.
In the bare room, the painting on the wall behind the desk stood out immediately to her. Cassandra blinked and rubbed at her eyes. For a second she thought she had seen herself in it. The woman in the painting had her hair and eyes; the only difference being the colour of their gowns – the woman’s was pale green, Cassandra’s white.
She looked happy, this woman in the painting.
“If only you could have met Ilana,” Arkus said. Cassandra had not heard him enter but kept looking at her mother. As though in a trance, she stepped closer to the frame. From here, Cassandra saw Ilana’s cheekbones were a little lower than her own; her eyebrows a touch thinner, and her hair parted differently. Ilana’s was to the right and Cassandra’s to the left. They might be small things, but they were there.
“I would have liked to meet her too,” Cassandra said. “But alas…”
“Cassandra, I am so sorry. I’ve tried to expla—”
“I know. I know… I’m sorry.” It had been a cheap dig at the man and spiteful. She’d heard the full story from Arkus on their journey back to Brevia. He hadn’t had much choice. Even so, it still stung.
“This is hard for me too,” Arkus said. He removed his crown and let his greying mane fall loosely behind his ears. Placing the crown on his desk, the King moved to sit behind it. “Making time for you is… difficult. I’d like nothing more than to get to know you, but I have a kingdom in tatters. The Cairlav Marshes are more desolate than ever; the Golden Crescent’s population is scattered or returning to fields crushed by running dragons; I have thousands of soldiers tied up in the Dales and a war still to wage. To top it all,” he added, sounding deathly tired, “Lord Boreac has disappeared.”
“One hiding lord seems the least of your worries.”
“Boreac’s actions show he was clearly involved in the plots against me,” Arkus said. “I can’t have any ringleaders still at large. He must be brought to justice or I risk it all again.”
“But you cannot find him?”
“We’ll comb the city for him. He won’t last long.”
“What makes you think he’s still in Brevia, this Lord Boreac?” Cassandra said. It seemed strange to her that, with everything else going on, this one man was on Arkus’ mind.
“For one, his regional seat lies abandoned and decimated,” said Arkus. “Additionally, it is likely he still has friends and sympathisers in the city. Castallan might be gone, but the networks he built must run deeper than I ever suspected. Then again, I rely so much on information from others who, as far as I know, were part of these plots. I find I am lacking in people I can trust.”
“Is that why you are telling me this?”
“No, I have simply been side-tracked,” said Arkus, regaining his authoritative air. “You are here on a different matter. One of marriage.”
“I think you have more important things to worry about,” said Cassandra.
“Were you not of noble birth it wouldn’t matter. But you are. In fact, you’re the eldest of my children. You could be heir if you wanted?” Cassandra let out a sound that might have been construed as a laugh, something between a snorting giggle and a choking gag of pain. Arkus’ expression remained flat. “It’s far from a laughing matter.”
“I don’t want to be queen.”
“Your brother had much the same attitude. Fighting me at every turn.” His face paled at that point and he cast his eyes on the floor. Cassandra hadn’t considered that Cosmo was her brother; her much older brother to be sure, but family still. It seemed so wrong, so untrue; and he’d died trying to save her from Scythe’s men. That memory suddenly took on a more painful meaning.
“He was a good man,” she said.
“So, I’m told,” said Arkus “But, to put your mind at ease, I don’t intend you shall ever be queen. Although if both Thane and Cullen die, things would get complicated.”
“So why must I marry then?”
“Politics. Thane will remain my heir. Not least because that is how the Kingdom has been carefully nurtured these last eight years and because he is promised to the daughter of Lord Esselmont of the Golden Crescent. Doubtless, that kept Esselmont loyal throughout the years.”
“So, you’re going to open up the bidding for me and gain another loyal house?”
“Do not look at me like I’m some monster. This is a time of war and the Assembly must be kept malleable. Your coming has upset the status quo and all will seek to gain from it. However, I do not intend to indulge any of my fine Lords.”
“Then, it is all some ruse?” She was hopeful. Oh, so naively, so desperately, hopeful.
“I’m taking you out of their sights. I would have you marry Balack.”
“Balack?” Cassandra said aghast. This she had not been expecting.
“He is the perfect candidate,” Arkus explained. “You see, should I grant one lord or rich merchant the honour, then I would face unrest and rebellion. Not openly, of course, not so soon after the Bastion. Yet I would face resistance all the same, particularly from the rivals of whichever family I picked. Choosing one would require me to placate the other in some form and I’d rather avoid playing a continual game of gift giving; as though all my lords were children, each demanding a sweet treat.”
“Surely Balack would offend them all, father.” She struggled with the word, as though learning it for the first time.
“Perhaps some will feel snubbed,” Arkus said. “However, they cannot complain too loudly. I have arranged for him to visit each district of the city. The people will be singing tales of his bravery before long. My lords might be discontent by the betrothal but they cannot openly object to someone so beloved by the people. And, as no one house will gain anything from it, it will cause no real damage within the Assembly. It’s perfect.”
“Except for me,” Cassandra said. “And Balack,” she added. “What does he think about this?”
“I haven’t brought it up yet,” Arkus said. “I thought you would prefer Balack over some stranger. He tells me that you grew close before you were recaptured.”
“Balack is a good friend,” Cassandra admitted. “That does not mean I want to marry him.”
“How about Grigayne Imar,” Arkus said. “Son of Lord Somerled. The two of you will be of an age – perhaps he’s a little older. This is Somerled’s idea of course. I think he feels it would help strengthen Grigayne’s position to take the islands to full independence one day.”
“Is nobody an option? I’m tired of having no control.”
“Cassandra,” Arkus said, becoming stern, “do you think any of us have full control of our lives? I am a King and yet I must do many things I’d rather avoid to maintain stability.”
“But—”
“I am a King,” Arkus continued, “and yet I must bow my head to a boy dragon. I am a King, and still I could not keep my son from leaving me; I could not bring you home from Aurisha with me; I could not heal your mother’s broken heart nor keep her in this world with me,” his voice cracked. “None of us are truly free, Cassandra.”
“I have been a prisoner all my life. Am I to swap one jailer for another?”
“You wound me,” Arkus said. “If you’d grown up here, you’d understand. B
ut you didn’t. So, it will be the hard way. It doesn’t matter to me if you love him or hate him. It does not matter to me whether you spend all your days together or merely show up arm in arm when required. But what I do need is the marriage – in ink on parchment.”
“You don’t care about me at all do you?” she said.
“I care about our family,” Arkus said. “This is the best thing for the family.”
“I’m not part of your family,” she seethed. She turned away, storming for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“For a very long walk.” She ripped the door open.
Arkus was calling after her. “I’ll have Gellick accompany—”
“I’d rather go alone.”
“Out of the question!” He appeared at the doorway to block her, moving fast for an older man. Furious, she faced him but his expression had softened. “I just got you back. I won’t lose you again.”
She shuffled her feet. “Very well. I won’t go alone.”
“Thank you,” Arkus said. He raised a hand as though to pat her shoulder but thought better of it. “He’ll be here shortly. I’m expecting him. But if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to attend to.” He walked back to his desk and Cassandra shut the door behind her. She waited on the comfy bench and when Gellick eventually appeared he had no fewer than ten Chevaliers and a large crate. She eyed it suspiciously but Gellick’s look told her not to ask.
Her hope that a walk through the city might cheer her up was soon dashed. The Chevaliers were a sullen lot, walking with their noses up in the air and clanking loudly with every step. She’d rather roam the streets alone and see the city as it truly was, not how a noble was supposed to see it, as little she saw was authentic. The people ducked or bowed their heads as she passed. Anyone who spoke did so with a nervous politeness. Merchants brought out special wares reserved only for the wealthy and some even tried to give her gifts for free if she would tell the others at court where she got this or that.
It was quite tiring.
At a crossroads, which was ripe with the smell of fish, Gellick came to a halt. “Might we venture down to the harbourside now, Princess?” Soldiers in chainmail and holding spears were trudging past.
“It looks busy,” Cassandra said. “I’m not sure I’m in the mood for it.”
“We also have business there.”
Cassandra looked to the sealed crate. “You’re very polite to make it seem like it’s my decision.”
“As you say, Princess.”
Down at the harbour proper, Cassandra took in the fullness of the vast horseshoe bay. A forest of ship masts stretched to the colossal white arch that spanned the distant banks. The wind whistled in the space between the ships, seagulls screeched and she could almost taste the salt in the air. Cassandra followed Gellick’s lead as they fought through the crowds. Before long, the rest of the aromas reached her: sweat, horse muck and fish guts. Gellick raised a white silk handkerchief heavily scented with lavender to his nose.
“Put it down over there,” he said beneath the handkerchief, pointing to a group of fairy warriors surrounding two easels. At one easel was Fidelm, brush in hand. Opposite him was another painter, a human in overalls with a long, hanging beard tucked into his belt. The Chevaliers carefully placed the crate down before the fairies. “General,” Gellick said. “I believe you were expecting this.”
Fidelm set his brush down and stretched his arms. “Your timely arrival is most appreciated, Chevalier. My people will take good care of it.”
“Take good care of what?” Cassandra asked.
“The scrying orb we recovered from the Bastion,” Fidelm said. “Arkus has the one that Blaine recovered. This will grant a method of communication with Aurisha when delivered.”
“If Aurisha is retaken,” Gellick sniffed.
“That would be a good thing, Chevalier,” Fidelm said. “My Queen will be sending all the dragons still in our forest onto Brevia soon. The quicker they can be sent home the better, I’d imagine.”
“More dragons, oh joyous,” Gellick said. He half-turned to leave but hesitated. “I hope your wing is on the mend, general?”
“Niceties aren’t required,” said Fidelm. “You’ve completed your task.”
“Very well,” Gellick said. “Come Chevaliers, Princess, back to the palace.”
“I’m not ready to return,” Cassandra said. She had no reason to stay other than to be rebellious and if she couldn’t fight Arkus just yet, then Gellick would do.
“I cannot allow you to remain without protection,” Gellick said.
“I can have her escorted back,” said Fidelm. “My fairies can be trusted. None of them joined Castallan.”
“I only accept orders from the royal family,” said Gellick.
“I’m the Princess.”
“Your father outranks even you,” Gellick said.
“And he said explicitly that I could not stay at the harbour and keep Fidelm company?”
“The General appears to have a companion already.”
The bearded painter nearly dropped his pallet at being brought into the discussion.
“Douglas isn’t much of a conversationalist when he works,” Fidelm said. “A true artist.”
“Have it your way,” Gellick said. “Bring the Princess safely back to the palace or you won’t leave this city.”
“I’m quaking at the thought,” Fidelm said. Gellick muttered something under his breath as he and the Chevaliers stalked off. The moment he was out of sight, Cassandra looked quizzically at Fidelm.
“Why help me?”
“Why stay here?” he asked.
“I just wanted to annoy him,” Cassandra said.
“Then we were of a mind,” said Fidelm.
“So, what are you doing?” she asked.
“I am acquainting myself with the latest Brevian fad,” Fidelm said.
“It is no fad,” Douglas squawked from behind his easel.
“I like to capture the scene perfectly,” Fidelm said. “These broken strokes you’ve asked me to attempt are making a mess.”
“Perfection is not my goal,” Douglas said. “I am studying how light affects the scene. The eye does not see everything in detail but focuses on a single point. The rest is blurred. A mere impression of what is there.”
“Ah Douglas, your skills are too great to waste on fleeting fancies. Alas, that is your kind.”
“Change can be worthwhile,” Cassandra said.
“Why change what does not need to be changed,” Fidelm said.
“But how will you know if things are better or worse without change?” said Douglas, sweeping his brush across the canvas until some yellow flicked off the side and splattered Cassandra’s white dress.
Change. Something has to change. Can I really settle into a life here?
“You look troubled, Cassandra,” Fidelm said.
“What? No. No. I’m fine—”
“May we have some privacy, Douglas?” Fidelm asked.
“And just when the light was at its best,” Douglas said glumly. He got up and shuffled off behind the wall of fairy warriors. Cassandra was left with the ink-skinned fairy, a little unsettled.
What does he want?
She found it hard to judge. His deep blue eyes gave nothing away.
“Well?” Fidelm asked, turning to face her. “Why bite at the Chevalier?”
“Why the concern? You don’t know me.”
“Curiosity,” Fidelm said.
“I’m not something to be studied.”
“I’m trying to decide whether to feel sympathy for you or not,” said Fidelm. “You’ve been in a foul mood since the Bastion.”
“I felt fine until today. Arkus is trying to marry me off.”
“So?” Fidelm said.
Cassandra could barely believe her ears. Rage pulsed inside her. She wanted to take his canvas and toss it into the water of the bay.
So? So! How would you like it if Kasselle forced yo
u into something?
Then she remembered that, as a fairy, Fidelm was selected for a role at birth and was stuck there. He likely wouldn’t complain.
“It hardly seems right that I should have no say in something like this,” Cassandra said, forcing herself to remain calm. “It doesn’t seem right either that I should work so hard for my freedom only to get stuck in this situation.”
“Then do something about it,” said Fidelm. “You’re resourceful enough.”
“It’s more a matter of principal,” she said. “Of freedom.”
Fidelm shrugged. “Freedom to me is having a choice and you have a choice here.”
“No, I don—”
“Yes, you do,” Fidelm interrupted. “You can try to act or you can do nothing and complain. At the Bastion, you could have done nothing, but you chose to act. You escaped and in doing so helped to bring about Castallan’s downfall. Freedom is relative, Cassandra.”
“Is that the fairy perspective?”
“I can see why you think that; however, I’ve lived for a fair time, and in ninety years you see enough to form a broad perspective. Darnuir, for example, might be the most powerful individual amongst the Three Races and yet he is not utterly free. He cannot do exactly as he pleases. Nor can your father, nor can I and nor can you. To think otherwise is childish. If you don’t want to go down the route Arkus has laid before you, find a way to alter it. As a human, you can.”
“I’m just not sure how,” Cassandra said. “I’ve lived my whole life for one thing and that’s over now…” She trailed off, lost for words.
Fidelm twisted his canvas around. On it was a half-finished picture of the Bay of Brevia, with a beautiful ship at the centre and an array of dashed strokes around it that helped to give a dream-like quality to it. “Before I started this sheet was blank. I could make it anything I wanted.” He picked up his colour pallet. “Look at yourself. You’re exactly the same.” Then he flicked a little green paint at her. Cassandra hadn’t the chance to react. The paint splashed across her dress, crossing paths with the yellow left there by Douglas. Fidelm swirled his brush on the pallet then painted a purple stroke along one of her sleeves.
Cassandra found herself laughing. Fidelm handed her the pallet and she started smearing paint all over her once pristine white gown. Red and blue, the brown that Fidelm had mixed for the wood of the ships; her hands rubbed it all over her white satin dress.
The Dragon's Blade_Veiled Intentions Page 26
