I read through the poetry book; they were mostly love poems and a few war sagas. There was little enough about the poet in the book but a short description of his life. Artor Oakhem was beloved of his king and would often write poems to please his majesty and his queen. He chronicled the rise of the Danhad Empire and the founding of many of the great houses. At the back of the book there was a poem where a majority of the page was missing. All that remained was the title: “The True King”. It sounded like a war saga or some other thing meant to flatter a ruler. It seemed my search here was as fruitless as any other inquiry I had made thus far.
I was squinting at a volume of ancient houses when someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped up, knocking over a pile of books in the process. I whirled in place to see who had touched me.
Tomas grinned down at me. “Did I startle you?”
I pressed my hand to my chest and felt my heartbeat racing. The room had gone dark around me. When did the sun go down? Have I been here all day?
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He picked up Sir Oakhem’s book of poetry. It was open on the table to the poem about the oak tree. He held my place with a finger and looked at the cover. His eyes grew wide for a second before he smiled to cover up his reaction. “I should ask the same of you. I came to call, and your maid told me you were in the library. What can possibly hold such a fascination for you?”
I brushed my thumb against the chain of my necklace. “I was looking for something.”
He leaned on the table in front of me. His mouth was near mine. “You need look no further; I am right here.”
I turned away from him. No, once was enough. I was weak; I will not continue this affair. He may have answers, but I was not willing to pay with my integrity to get them.
“Are you? Then tell me, do you know this symbol?” I pulled my necklace out from within my bodice.
He took it lightly between thumb and forefinger. He studied it for quite a while before looking back at me. “Why are you interested in this symbol?” His tone was soft and coaxing.
“My husband gave it to me. I was reading this poetry book and saw the same symbol on it. Have you seen it before?”
He stood up and regarded me for a moment. I wiped all expression from my face. He knows something about this symbol.
“I have,” he said, “but I will not speak of it here. Come with me.” He held his hand out to me, and I took it hesitantly.
He led me out of the library and down the halls. He did not say anything more but smiled back at me as he led me to my own apartments. My maid let us in, and she smiled at Tomas and offered him refreshment.
“We would like to be left alone,” I told her with a look that was not to be disobeyed. I did not need my maid fawning over Tomas, not when it seemed he was willing to talk.
She flushed, nodded her understanding and left us.
“What is this all about? It’s just a symbol, is it not?” I asked Tomas.
He sat down and crossed his legs. He set his cane to one side. “I think you know it is more than a symbol, your grace.” He loved to say your grace, as if it were some pet name between us. His lips turned up at the corners, and I thought of his kiss and the way his hands had slid over my body. That was a mistake. I should not have let him do that.
I decided to dissemble. “It has something to do with the Order of the Oak. What is this order?”
“Artor said you were clever, but I must admit, I am surprised how quickly you put the pieces together. Then, I should have known you would find us out eventually after you talked to Hilliard.”
“You sent me to him; you led me to the Hall of Entertainment.” I sat forward in my seat, inching closer to him. I felt a rush of excitement as if everything were falling into place.
“That I did, but I did not intend for you to speak to that broken man. I wanted you to meet Prince Garrison, and I wanted to see you again.” He smirked at me.
“You say you know Artor; how?”
“He was part of our Order. He was a founding member alongside Prince Garrison and me.”
I found that difficult to believe. Idella said Artor was looking into some sort of treason; could it have been the Order? “What are the aims of this order?”
He chuckled. “Nothing unseemly, I can assure you. We are merely supporters of the crown. We work to maintain peace in the realm at His Majesty’s behest.”
“Why have I heard nothing of this before?”
He stood up and came to sit on the couch beside me. I scooted away. He only laughed. “You did not fear my touch that night at my villa, your grace.” He brushed a hand along my arm. I shivered, remembering all the touches he had bestowed upon me that night. Don’t let his charm cloud your judgment.
“That was then, and this is now.” I have more resolve now. I will not be wooed a second time.
He sighed and sat back on the couch. “You would not have heard of us because it is a secret order. We can work more effectively from the shadows. Those who would plot against the rightful king do whatever they can to stop us, and so we hide.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Artor was a dear friend, and before he was killed, he asked me to protect you.”
I inhaled sharply. Artor had sent this man to protect me. That was why he had come to me the day I arrived at the palace. He had pointed out Idella’s pets to me and introduced me to the prince. He had been helping me every step of the way while Idella had only hindered my search. A terrible thought was creeping into the back of my mind. “Do you know who killed him?”
“I do.”
“Tell me!” I grabbed his hand and squeezed. I knew the truth, though I was trying to convince myself it was not true.
“It was his sister, Idella.”
Chapter Nine
Idella summoned me after that. Once more she sent a secret messenger; this time it was a washing woman with red-stained hands and missing teeth. She said a woman had given her the note. I burned the note without reading it. Idella had ruined my reputation and stolen my son. I could only assume that she had lied to me as well. What benefit did Tomas have in lying to me? Tomas promised to help me save my son. He swore we could get him away from Idella’s clutches, and I believed him. I became his paramour after that. Many nights he snuck into my apartments and into my bed, and I welcomed him there. I drowned my grief in his arms. I was drunk on his kisses and his sweet words. Let Idella see me with him, and let her think I am doing her bidding when I am working to destroy her. I cared not who knew about our affair. I had lost everything: my husband, my son, my freedom. I knew eventually I would have to face Idella or else she would become suspicious.
Tomas took me to dinner parties every night of the week. I was his acknowledged paramour. No one seemed to care. I was treated kindly, perhaps better than I had been when I was Artor’s wife. Tomas helped me search for proof of Idella’s involvement in my husband’s murder, some cat’s-paw that she had used to turn the tide and bring the attack down upon Artor and the other soldiers, but everyone was dead but Hilliard, and he had disappeared as if he never existed.
Some weeks later, Prince Garrison was holding a fete for his son’s natality. I came with Tomas. He had bedecked me in emeralds and a gown of a similar hue. I wore my hair loose and flowing over my shoulders. I felt like a queen in my own right.
“You look beautiful, your grace,” Tomas purred in my ear as we marched our way up to greet Prince Garrison and his son. He nipped at my neck, and I batted him away playfully. I still had reservations about public affection, even if I was his recognized paramour.
We were next to meet the prince and his son. The boy was a scrawny child. He was older than Layton by a few years, but it was difficult to tell. He had large blue eyes and light golden hair. He was pale. I wondered if he got out in the sun often enough. It made me think of Layton playing in the garden at White Crest. Layton loved to sword fight and climb trees. This child looked as if he hardly ever saw the
light of day. He shared little resemblance to his father other than the blue Raleban eyes he had inherited. His mother had been Jerauchian. The country of Jerauch was north of us in the mountains, where it was snowy nine months out of the year. The child had inherited his mother’s fair complexion and the blond hair their people were known for. He appears more Jerauchian than Danhadine.
He bowed in a courtly manner. “Your grace,” he said in a soft voice, his eyes cast down. He seems so gentle. His father would do better not to bring him to court. They will devour him whole here.
“Happy natality, Lord Johai, did you get everything you wished for?” I kneeled down so I was at eye level with him.
He looked to his father briefly, his face sad and drawn. “Yes. Father gave me a pony and my own sword.”
He looked as pleased with a sword as if he had been given a bowl of maggots. Definitely not a swordsman, this one.
“How very nice.” I smiled at the child. I got the impression he did not see much kindness. Prince Garrison was busy with the war, and I imagined he had little time for his son. “There is lots of land up north where I come from, and my son Layton has his own pony. Mayhap you can come visit sometime.”
He smiled politely. “Thank you, your grace.”
I stood back up and greeted his father. “Your Highness.” I bowed to him. Prince Garrison was handsomely dressed in a doublet of Raleban blue and silver.
“Duchess, it is an honor to have you in my home.” His words were spoken in a flat tone without feeling. I took it as a compliment; he was not a man of much emotion, I had learned.
The gathering was held at the palace proper, and I was not surprised to see King Dallen and Queen Idella among the revelers. I danced with Tomas and avoided Idella’s glare as she watched us move about the room. She would not risk the charade and approach me in public. She would expect me to leave to keep up the charade, but I will not be cowed. We danced until dinner was announced, and then, laughing and breathless, Tomas and I entered the dining room. We were sat at a table near Prince Garrison. He sat at the head table with his brother and the queen. The king had the same look as his brother, with chestnut hair and a beard trimmed to a point. He wore the Raleban blue and silver as well while Idella wore a gown of silver. She had pearls in her hair that glimmered in the candlelight.
Beside the queen sat King Dallen and Prince Garrison’s sister, Princess Florian, my son’s foster mother. She was newly returned to court from her country home. She was a comely woman, with dark hair that bordered on black, and lighter blue eyes than her brother’s. She had brought Layton back with her, and he was seated beside her son, Prince Adair. The prince had a similar cast to his mother with the blue Raleban eyes and chestnut hair. Across from Princess Florian was her husband, Jon Ilore, the Duke of House Ilore. He had light brown hair and a clean-shaven face. Beside Idella was a petite blonde child who I took to be Queen Idella’s only daughter, Princess Sarelle. She looked much like her mother, with golden curls, but she smiled prettily. Johai sat beside his father but removed from his royal cousins. He pushed his food around his plate and only looked up when someone came by to wish him a happy natality.
There were several courses served, from rosemary soups to a shaved ice with cream for the final sweet course. I ate and laughed with my companions. Every so often I would look up and see Idella glowering at me. I would smile in return and let Tomas feed me a bite off his fork.
When dinner finished, Prince Garrison opened up the dancing once more, and the guests returned to the ballroom. I motioned to follow them, seeing Idella go that way. Tomas stopped me, however.
“Not yet, your grace, I have some people I would have you meet.”
“Oh?”
He led me through a side door into a hallway attached to the dining hall. We made our way down the hall to a large wooden door. Tomas knocked three times, and a man poked his head out.
“Were you followed?” the man asked. He had mousy flyaway hair and a pinched red face.
“No, we were not. Let us in,” Tomas replied.
The man stepped aside and let us in. It was a plain room, with wood paneling and a fireplace roaring at one end of the room. Prince Garrison was sitting in a chair by the fire. I had not even seen him leave the fete. Tomas led me to a seat. I took a seat, and Tomas joined me on the couch. He grabbed my hand and squeezed. The prince turned to face us. The door behind us opened and closed, but I did not look to see if someone was entering or leaving.
“Thomas tells me you have been asking questions about the Order of the Oak.”
I had been expecting this moment for some time. I asked Tomas about the Order often enough, but he always put me off, saying the time was not right. It seemed the time had come at last. “Yes, my husband left me this necklace after his death. In my grief, I thought there was a message he had left me, some love note beyond the grave, so I looked into the meaning of this symbol and discovered the Order.” I took off my necklace and handed it to the prince.
He held it up to the light, letting the charm spin. The flames glinted off the silver charm, streaking it with orange and red.
“Tomas has suggested you join our ranks,” the prince said. He handed me back the necklace, and I clasped my hand around the cool metal.
“If your highness would agree, I would be honored to join your ranks. The realm’s safety is my number one priority.” And getting revenge against Idella.
“Is that true?” Prince Garrison’s gaze flickered to Tomas. “Well, we shall see.”
I was suddenly plunged into darkness as a bag was thrust over my head. I shouted in surprise. Someone grabbed me from behind and tried to drag me to my feet.
“What are you doing? I was going to join your Order!” I shouted.
Someone groped for my hand and squeezed. “Shh, your grace. We must make sure your heart is true before we can allow you to join us. This is just the initiation.”
My heart was hammering. I was wild with panic. What does he mean see into my heart? Will they see that I am harboring ill will to Idella?
I went along meekly. I had no choice. I needed the Order to help me find proof of what Idella had done to Artor. They could have asked me to walk through fire, and I would have done it if it meant I would get my vengeance.
Tomas led me out of the room once more, and we went down a long corridor, which seemed to twist and turn endlessly. More than once, he stopped to open locked doors. I heard the jingling of keys, and my own breathing echoed back at me through the burlap over my eyes. I deduced Tomas and I were alone. I heard no other voices, and no other footsteps echoed around us. He did not speak, and I did not ask questions. He would stop me with a touch and then urge me on with a gentle nudge.
We stopped, and he worked with the keys for several moments. I felt a cold breeze tickle at my ankles. Are we outside? Where is he taking me? A door swung open with a groan, and he nudged me forward.
“I’m going to hold onto you. We’ll be taking stairs downwards for quite a ways,” he whispered to me.
I moved my feet along the steps, trusting Tomas to guide me safely. I put one hand along the stone wall and felt the rough stone scratch at my palms. Our footsteps echoed back at us, and we seemed to descend downwards for an eternity. With each step it grew colder, and the flickering light I could see through the burlap faded.
“We’re near the bottom now,” Tomas said. At the bottom of the steps, we stopped after a hundred yards or so. “Wait a moment,” he murmured. He clinked with the keys, and the light flickered as wind whipped through the place we stood. I shivered and rubbed my arms to try to keep warm. He removed the sack, and I was staring at a rough wooden door. It was falling apart with decay. There was one rusty handle and hinges that looked ready to break apart. “Here we are,” Tomas announced.
“What is this place?” I asked. A tingling of foreboding crawled up my spine.
He only laughed and pushed open a rough wooden door. It screamed in protest, and I thought it would fall off it
s hinges, but by some miracle it stayed in place. Inside was a circular room made up of stone. It appeared to have been carved from the cliff that the palace sat upon. In the center of the room was a stone basin set upon a pillar. Water dripped from the ceiling and into the basin.
“What is this place?” I asked again.
This time he answered, “Where our kingdom began.” He held my hand palm up. He pressed a kiss to my palm and looked at me. Then before I realized what he was doing, he brought up a dagger and slashed my palm.
I cried out and tried to pull away, but he held me fast. “We need to see inside your heart, your grace.” He had placed the torch in a sconce by the door, and the light fell on his face and cast his features in shadow. He looked manic and sinister.
I shook my head to try to tell him no, but my protests had shriveled up in my throat. He tugged me gently to the basin. Blood was pooling in my hand. The place where he had cut me burned from the sting of the blade.
“Put your blood into the water,” he instructed.
I tilted my hand, doing as I was told. The water was dark as night. The light from the torch reached the basin, and it seemed that the water drank it up, leaving darkness behind. The water swallowed up my blood; three drops fell in before Tomas took my hand away.
“Not too much or else the darkness will grow hungry for more.” He wrapped my hand in a bandage.
“What now?” I trembled but managed to keep my fear from my voice.
“Look in the water.” He motioned me to the basin. I glanced into the water. It was dark, but I saw my face reflected on the surface. My eyes were large and frightened, and I hardly recognized myself with the shadows the torch threw over my features.
Dark shapes danced across the water’s surface. I saw what appeared to be a masked face before it disappeared behind a curtain of darkness. There were other images beneath the murky depths of the water, but I could not clearly say what. For a moment I thought I saw a company of men, banners flapping in the wind. I could not see the sigils on their banners, but I knew instinctively that they were our enemies. They marched over a hill and disappeared. The water returned to inky blackness.
Duchess Page 6
