“It is all right. I am a fat girl. What did she say?”
“Oh. She said she thought you were too young for the position and the Kirkellan were disrespecting Veribold in sending you. And he told her to go on pretending Veribold cares about the Kirkellan, because they need your trade.”
“I think they need us more than they say.”
“I agree. Then he said, when you talked about mutual aid, that you were bold. He didn’t sound upset about it. I don’t know why; he usually hates it when people talk back to him. Then you said the thing about undergarments, and he told the Voice he had always wondered what the Kirkellan did with the silk they traded for. Apparently it has never occurred to the Veriboldans to use it for that purpose. And then he said if you were so clever, it would be interesting to see what uses you came up with for other Veriboldan trade items. So congratulations, madam ambassador, on your first diplomatic victory.”
Imogen blushed. “It was an accident.”
“Sometimes diplomacy is about capitalizing on those kinds of accidents.”
“Then…thank you, your Majesty.”
“I thought I asked you to call me Jeffrey.”
“But I am ambassador.”
“Yes, but we’re dancing. We’re allowed to be informal. Friendly, even.” He winked at her, and she laughed.
“You are friendly to…Bixhenta, do I say it right?” she asked.
“It’s a ‘sh’ before the ‘ch’ in the middle, but close enough.”
“Bixhenta. But you say your countries are tense.”
“I’m friendly because I don’t want things to get worse. There are Veriboldan rebels along their eastern border we think are actually funded by the government. Now that Ruskald isn’t a barrier between us, the danger that they might try to do more than just rattle their swords in our direction has increased.”
“What is it you have that they want?”
“Devices. Tremontane has more magical source than any other country and we make better and more Devices. Bixhenta is here ostensibly to negotiate for freer trade, but I think he might be evaluating our internal stability. This conflict with Ruskald makes us look weak, and I’m friendly with Bixhenta so he won’t realize how weakened the war has left us.”
“And that is why you need rulers for the new territory.”
“Exactly. We need to show a strong, united front.”
“Then I do not understand why you took over territory from Ruskald when it was a barrier that protected you.”
“Ruskald has always been more of a danger than Veribold. Having a shorter border with them is worth sharing a longer border with Veribold.”
“Then they are afraid of you because you are the…the aggressor when you take this land.”
“Too afraid to attack us, I hope.”
“That is not a safe hope. It is when people are most afraid they forget to be afraid.” She remembered saying the same thing to Hrovald, about his chiefs, and wondered if it had come true for him yet.
“Good insight. As long as I can keep friendly with Bixhenta and play along with his need to be superior and in control, Veribold can maintain its self-image and not fear Tremontane will take its preeminence away.”
“Unless the government pays the rebels to be its secret standing army.”
Jeffrey laughed. “Are you sure you’ve only been a diplomat for a week? You certainly seem to understand the situation well.”
Imogen opened her mouth, closed it again, then after a moment said, “It seemed clear to me. I did not think it was diplomacy.”
“Diplomacy is also about understanding the people you’re treating with. I think—” He went silent and looked away past her ear.
“You think what?”
“It’s not my place to say.”
“Now you must say or I will step on your foot and pretend it is you who are clumsy.”
Startled, he met her eyes again, then chuckled. “Your mother told me she thought there was a part of you that was no warrior. I’m beginning to see what that part is.”
It was Imogen’s turn to look away. His words disquieted her. Her mother had said much the same thing to her, that she was a warrior because it was the only part of her she knew. But she’d felt confident, talking to Jeffrey about his political situation and understanding it, as if something were waking up inside her. She pushed it aside and hoped it would fall asleep again.
“You continue to astonish me, madam ambassador,” Jeffrey added. They turned away from each other, came back together, and the music ended. “And you dance very well.” Imogen realized she hadn’t tripped or lost count or done anything embarrassing or awkward. Jeffrey was an excellent partner. They bowed to each other, smiling, and Imogen let go of his hand. He immediately offered her his arm. “It’s custom for the gentleman to escort the lady back to her friends.”
“Then I should obey custom,” she said, accepting the gesture without a hint of the discomfort she felt at having her freedom of movement impeded. It wasn’t as if Jeffrey was going to lead her into an ambush.
“Oh, Jeffrey, I’ve been looking for you,” said Diana Ashmore, emerging from the crowd. She laid her hand on his other arm. “Have you made a decision about the new territory?”
“Diana, is that really what you want to discuss?” Jeffrey said, amused. “At a wedding reception?”
“Why not? It’s not as if it’s your wedding.” She laughed and squeezed his arm gently. “I know Howard Spencer is looking—oh, there he is.” A tall, thin man with very sharp cheekbones was approaching at speed, as if he were racing some invisible opponent. He was followed by a woman whose attractive violet gown, embroidered all over the substantial bodice with crystals that caught the light and winked at Imogen, clashed with her red hair.
“No private discourse, Diana, we agreed on that,” the man said. He sounded slightly out of breath.
“You agreed on that, Howard, and it’s not as if we’re in competition,” said Diana. She released Jeffrey’s arm. “Now we’re both here, Jeffrey, you can stop being coy and tell us what you’ve decided.”
“I was under the impression you were the one who answered to me,” Jeffrey said. His words were pleasant enough, but there was a steely undertone to them. “Micheline, Howard, let me introduce the ambassador from the Kirkellan, Imogen. Imogen, this is Micheline Branston, chief of Internal Affairs, and Howard Spencer, Baron of Avory.”
“I am pleased to meet you,” Imogen said. Branston smiled politely. Spencer ignored Imogen. “It’s obvious what the decision should be, Jeffrey,” he said.
“That territory will take years to pacify fully,” Jeffrey said. “I can’t make this decision lightly. I appreciate your arguments that experienced leadership will benefit that process. I’m also conscious of your current responsibilities and have to consider whether adding the new territory to yours, making Daxtry and Avory counties, will stretch your resources too thin.”
“I know I’m capable of increased responsibility,” Diana said. “I’ve served Tremontane for many years—”
“And will continue to do so regardless of my decision, I’m sure.”
“I don’t suppose our desires have any weight with you,” Spencer said.
“My decisions are based on what is best for Tremontane, not what is best for one man. Or woman.” The steely note was back in his voice. “This discussion is over. I do not intend to turn my sister’s celebration into a Council meeting, so I hope the two of you will enjoy yourselves. Micheline, I’ll speak to you tomorrow morning in my office. Imogen, will you walk with me?” He strode away without waiting for her assent, making her take a few stumbling steps before matching his long stride.
“Sorry about that,” he said in a low voice, though they’d quickly left Spencer and Diana behind. Imogen wished she could see both their faces, but turning around was awkward, so she just tried to keep up with her escort. “Howard and Diana will be the most affected by this decision, and I’m afraid they sometimes let their eagerness ove
rcome their good sense.”
“They wish more land?”
“The territory we took from Ruskald extends westward from their Baronies. They want their boundary lines extended. It’s a possibility, but I’m still considering other options.”
“You will make the right decision.”
“I certainly hope so. Nothing I decide is going to make everyone happy.”
“No, it is…” They stopped near the King’s seat, and Imogen struggled to find the right words. “It will be the right decision because you are strong and will not let it be the wrong one.”
Jeffrey put his hand over Imogen’s where it rested on his sleeve and squeezed gently. “I thank you for your faith in me, madam ambassador.”
His eyes were very blue and very intent on her, and Imogen blushed without knowing why. She looked away and saw Diana approaching them, smiling. Surely she wasn’t going to bring up the territory decision again?
“Oh, Jeffrey,” she said, “you’re right, and I’m sorry for bringing business into this celebration. Can you forgive me?” She put her hand on his free arm again and smiled up at him. Imogen released him, feeling reluctant to let go.
“Of course, Diana,” Jeffrey said. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”
“I will be, once you dance with me,” she said, winking at him. “It is our dance, after all. I promise not to bring up politics if you promise not to back out. I know how you feel about dancing.”
“Is it?” Jeffrey said. “I’d forgotten. Imogen, thank you for the dance, and please excuse me.” He took Diana’s other hand and moved into the figures of the next dance. Imogen watched them go. She had no trouble at all reading that interaction. Diana thought Jeffrey was hers, or wanted him to be. Jeffrey seemed oblivious to her attachment. Diana would be in for a huge disappointment, unless Jeffrey had a sudden change of heart. Imogen felt a little sorry for her.
Imogen saw Alison sitting alone, watching the dancers, and went to join her. “Would you care to sit?” Alison asked. “All the ambassadors have seats here, away from the crowds.”
Imogen looked out at the chattering, dancing people and felt courage rise up in her. “I think I must be a diplomat now,” she said, “but I will return again later.” She’d faced down the Veriboldan ambassador. She could face anything now.
She danced, and talked, and danced again, and went into one of the small rooms lining the ballroom for some quiet only to back out quickly when she realized two other people were already using it. Diplomacy was exhausting work. She didn’t know how many hours had passed when she began to feel tired and hungry for food that wouldn’t try to explode all over her. She wondered if she was allowed to leave yet. That was something she could ask Jeffrey. She made her way to where he was sitting next to Alison. Diana stood near him, talking and laughing and occasionally touching his arm. Imogen wondered if Alison had left her seat all night. She didn’t look as if she were having fun. As Imogen approached, Alison straightened up and smiled, a strained smile that looked as tired as Imogen felt.
“I do not know when it is all right for me to leave,” she said.
Jeffrey pulled a watch Device from inside his coat. “It’s rather late, isn’t it?” he said. “But you can leave any time you like. One of the benefits of being an ambassador.”
“Unlike being a King, which means you have to stay much later than you’d like,” Diana teased, leaning close to Jeffrey. “Or a Consort, naturally,” she added, nodding in Alison’s direction.
“As I am merely a Dowager Consort, however, I can leave whenever I choose,” Alison said coolly, directing an indifferent look at Diana that Imogen thought might conceal a different emotion. “Let me escort you to the door and summon your carriages, Imogen.” She stood and kissed her son on the cheek. Diana had to move back to let her do it, and Imogen caught a glimpse of her face, which said she wasn’t any fonder of Alison than Alison was of her. Yet another mark against Diana’s chances with Jeffrey; he loved his mother very much.
Imogen circled the room quickly, gathering her tiermatha, then left the ballroom with Alison, who seemed more lively now. In the hallway, she said, “I think you like to dance but you do not. Why is that?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alison said sharply. Imogen, abashed, went silent. After a moment, Alison sighed and said, “I apologize, Imogen. The truth is my husband was an excellent dancer and it was something we both loved. It’s been three years, and the pain of his loss is mostly gone, but I still can’t bear to dance without him.”
“You loved him,” Imogen said.
“More than I can say. Our love had a rocky start, which is why I never took it for granted. I think of him every day—fondly, not sadly, thank heaven.”
“My parents are like that. My mother is sharp and hard and my father is softer and more gentle. And I think they make each other better because they have differences.”
“That’s very wise, Imogen. I hope Elspeth and Owen have that kind of marriage, and I hope it lasts a good long time.”
“Why is Jeffrey not married? He is not too young?”
“He is rather plagued by women who would like to be the Consort. There are fewer women who would like to be the wife of Jeffrey North and none who see him for who he is. I wish he would marry. I know he feels the burden of having only one heir, and he and I both know Elspeth—and do not say a word of this to her, I don’t want to hurt her or frighten her—Elspeth is not very strong and the odds of her having a child are not good. But having had the marriage I did, I can’t encourage him to simply pick a healthy woman of the right temperament and do his duty.” Alison sighed. “I have hope that someday he’ll find the right woman. I’m not sure if he does.”
“And I think Diana Ashmore is not the right woman even if she would like to be,” Imogen said, daringly.
Alison looked at her, startled, then laughed. “Yes, she would, wouldn’t she? Thank heaven Jeffrey doesn’t see her that way. Doesn’t see her at all, for which I should pity her, but I dislike her so much I only feel gratitude.”
“You have not told him.”
“Would you? Dislike her or not, I wouldn’t embarrass any woman that way. And I fear, just a little, if I tell him she is interested in a relationship somewhat closer than the friendship they already have, it might incline him to think of her in the same way. Better for all concerned that he remain oblivious.”
They reached the courtyard, where Alison said a few words to one of the runners lounging about the steps, then said, “I’m glad you’re a friend to my children. There are so few people who can ignore their rank and form a more natural attachment.”
“It does not—I do not think of that. I am glad it is not wrong to not think of them as better because they are King and Princess.”
“Not at all. Respect is one thing, but servility is vile. I hope you think of me as a friend as well.”
“I do,” Imogen said, and impulsively hugged her. Alison hugged her back.
On the way home, Dorenna said, “Made friends with his mother, have you?”
“Dor, just shut up about it, all right?” Imogen knew she sounded harsh and didn’t care. “I’m tired of hearing about how we look good together or that he’s interested in me or whatever else you might come up with.” Dorenna went silent, and Imogen instantly felt contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”
“No, you’re right,” Dorenna said from her dark corner. “No more.”
Imogen settled into her own corner. Having told Dorenna off, now she found herself thinking about Jeffrey and how handsome he was, those blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how he always seemed happy to see her. It wouldn’t be so bad if he were interested in me, would it? she wondered, and answered herself, Not bad at all. But it was foolish, because he looked at Elspeth and Alison and Owen the same way and he was certainly not interested in a romantic relationship with any of them. And even if he were, she was leaving in a year and
, she realized with surprise, she wasn’t interested in something temporary; she wanted to find a partner and ultimately a husband to build a family with. Jeffrey North was definitely not that man.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Veriboldan embassy was a four-story townhouse on a quiet street near the palace. Linden trees surrounded by tiny iron fences grew as if from the stony pavement, amazing Imogen. They were almost in full leaf now and cast fluttering shadows over her as she dismounted from her carriage. She spared a wave for the horses drawing the carriage, who didn’t seem quite as unhappy as many of their fellows. Perhaps it was the driver, who was cheerful and friendly and asked after Victory’s health. He agreed to wait for her, and she walked up the embassy steps, her strides awkward thanks to the full-skirted cotton dress she wore. Its several petticoats had been a point of contention between herself and Alison, and she’d only acquiesced to the dress because Alison had uncharacteristically stomped her foot and said, “Imogen, I am not going to be able to explain everything we do in a way you’ll like, so just wear the dress and stop complaining!”
Now, even constrained by her skirt, she felt like a diplomat as she rang the embassy bell and was admitted by a short woman wearing a white robe over a black tunic and skirt. The high, arched ceiling of the entrance hall was supported by slim black pillars with capitals and plinths carved to look like crashing waves. The floor was tiled with irregularly-shaped tesserae in variegated shades of blue and green that made the floor appear to be moving, as if water flowed over it, which made Imogen feel a little nauseated. The white walls bore paintings that to Imogen’s untrained eye looked like nothing more than blotches of color, albeit interesting blotches, all framed in the same black wood the pillars were made of. An archway at the far end of the hall revealed a wide staircase, its risers lacquered bronze, that led upward out of sight.
The small woman silently turned and walked toward the stairs, and Imogen followed, ascending about twenty steps before coming out on a landing. The floor here was plain, unvarnished wood, and while the walls were still white, they bore no decorations of any kind. A narrow hallway lined with white painted doors led straight ahead, while two other identical hallways extended right and left. The woman pointed to the left, and about halfway down the hall Imogen saw a doorway that was open just a crack. She went to it and let herself in.
Rider of the Crown Page 22
