Tournament of Ruses

by Kate Stradling

  Flora slept fitfully that night, her dreams plagued with dark, smoky creatures that chased her from her old garden greenhouse. She awoke with a start more than once, and each time she had to reorient her senses to the hotel room’s unfamiliarity.

  When dawn broke at long last, she was grateful to see it. Breakfast awaited in the parlor that adjoined her room with her father’s. She started without him: she’d had no appetite the night before, for very good reason, but she was famished now and saw no point in allowing the food to get cold.

  Lord Dalton appeared as Flora buttered her first piece of toast. From the bags under his eyes she surmised that he had gotten about as much sleep as her. He was dressed to go up to the palace; she wondered if he meant to leave her alone with Mrs. Finch at the hotel. She did not relish the prospect of such a day.

  A page knocked on their door. Her father answered it and received a sealed envelope.

  “This is for you, Flora” said Lord Dalton as he shut the door again. He handed the envelope to her. “What does it say?”

  Vague misgivings descended upon her as she broke the seal and read aloud its contents:

  Dear Miss Dalton,

  Prime Minister Moreland requests your presence at 9:00 this morning for an appointment in his office. Please bring with you the application files for the Eternal Prince’s prospective consorts.

  The Prime Minister looks forward to meeting with you and hopes that this communication finds you in good health.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Roger Sterling, Secretary to the Prime Minister.

  Lord Dalton heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”

  “What? Why?” asked Flora.

  “I hope you know I’ve only ever wanted the best for you, Flora,” he told her, his expression suddenly earnest. “This whole business of the Prince seeking a consort, I knew you wouldn’t want to be involved in such a thing, and yet I thrust you straight into it, not because I expected he would choose you—there’s no reason he shouldn’t, for you’re certainly worthy of the position, but it’s fairly well known among members of Parliament that he’s already attached to the Prime Minister’s daughter—but I wanted you to have an opportunity to shine. I mean… Well, how do I put this correctly? To me, you’re the whole world, Flora. I guess I wanted others to see and acknowledge what a wonderful girl you are. I only wanted the Eternal Prince to consider you, but what a load of trouble my simple desire has brought! I’m so sorry! This is all my fault, all of it!”

  “All of what?” Flora asked cautiously.

  “This business of you getting entangled in the Prince’s affairs,” said her father. “Really, I had no notion that he would reward my efforts—my impertinence, as he likely saw it—by shouldering you with the duty of organizing the applications. And thanks to this terrible business yesterday, you’re only getting more entangled now than ever, and that’s my fault as well!”

  “What exactly did the Prime Minister tell you, Dad?” she inquired.

  He hemmed for a moment before venturing a reply. “You know those stories that people tell about Lenore, don’t you? That it’s rich in magic—rubbishy little stories, I always thought, but then the Dalton family’s always been made up of country folk, for generations and generations. We’ve never lived this near the forest before, so the stories of all the magic there never really held any meaning to me, and likely not to you either. I mean, I lived in the capital when I came up to the Royal Academy to finish my education, but those were very peaceful days. We saw the Prince on occasion, but he never performed any magic that I recall. There was no political unrest like this business we had last summer, either.”

  She wondered if he realized that he was babbling. “So what did the Prime Minister tell you?” she bluntly asked.

  Again he hedged, and in a manner that Flora associated with guilt rather than plain uncertainty.

  “Dad?” she prompted.

  “You’re going to get angry with me again,” he said.

  Her heart plummeted. If Prime Minister Moreland had told her father the truth, he would be the angry one, not her. “What did he tell you?” she solemnly asked.

  “It seems that Lenore really does sit upon a reservoir of magic,” her father replied, much to her surprise. “Every so often, that reservoir finds its way to the surface—Prime Minister Moreland called it a ‘well,’—and becomes vulnerable. He said that the well must have a guardian, and that in this case, the magic seems to have fixed on you for that role, Flora.”

  She knew this much already and could not understand why he thought she would be angry with him. “And?” she prompted.

  “And those creatures yesterday were looking for the guardian—that is, they were looking for you. Prime Minister Moreland said that he discussed the matter with the Eternal Prince and recommended that they change the guardian. He offered to relocate us to a new house in roughly the same area and alleviate you of such a troublesome role.”

  Flora’s heart grew lighter as he spoke, hope dawning within her. “Why on earth did you think I would get angry with you over that?”

  “Because I refused.”

  Her jaw dropped. Her father, too, seemed to understand that he had done something astounding, for he shrank back into his chair and watched her warily.

  “You—did—what?” Flora managed to say. She felt like a rug had been pulled out from under her feet.

  “Flora, you have to understand,” he replied defensively. “I have no political clout whatsoever! I’m the most junior member of Parliament, and I earned my position through reputation rather than any connections. Half the lords would barely even acknowledge my existence when I first came.”

  “What’s that got to do with me being a guardian to a well of magic?” Flora demanded.

  “It gives us clout with the Prince, Flora,” he replied. “If the Dalton family is confederate to the Eternal Prince himself, I may actually be able to accomplish something with my position! As it is, I’m an ineffectual member—it usually takes two or three generations to build up any sort of influence in the House of Parliament. All of the other newly established lords came from noble families, cousins of the rogue lords that were ousted last summer. The House of Conrad alone was eliminated from the natural succession, and the House of Dalton was established, but to what end? I have no sons! My position will fall to one of your cousins when I retire, and I’ll have accomplished nothing if I can’t establish some sort of influence!”

  “But Dad! I don’t know the first thing about magic!”

  He leaned forward, eager. “You can learn! You’re a smart girl! I know it’s selfish of me, but I told the Prime Minister that I thought you were up for the job, and that if the well of magic chose you then I would support that choice. And he said that the Eternal Prince holds the same opinion! Flora, do you know how these lords usually gain clout with one another?”

  “How?” she asked resentfully.

  “They marry their daughters off in political alliances. I’ve had three offers for your hand already. Would you prefer that I took that route?”

  Her eyes grew wide in horror. “Dad!”

  “I knew you would hate something like that, so I’ve refused them all,” he said. “Besides that, I think they were just trying to get you out of the way in the Prince’s search for a consort. Conniving back-stabbers, most of them are. Do you understand that if we become indispensable to the Prince himself that we will be indispensable to Parliament? Him entrusting you with those applications has already enabled me to voice my opinions on matters of policy when no one would’ve listened to me otherwise.”

  She slumped back into her chair and glared sullenly at him.

  “I know, sweetheart. You despise me,” he said penitently. “But if I want to establish our family and ensure your future, I’m going to need your help in the matter.”

  “Why couldn’t we have just stayed home in the countryside?” she grumbled, but she knew the answer to that already. Her father had l
abored all his life to administrate laws that were crafted in Parliament by the real men in power. Now, through a stroke of luck, he had been elevated into their ranks, able to craft the laws as well as administer them. He brought with him a fresh perspective, too. While most of these lords were insulated within the heart of the city, her father had lived among the common people of Lenore and knew better what needs they had. He had been one of them—still was one of them at heart—and the opportunity to legislate on their behalf was too precious to abandon.

  “I’m sorry, Flora,” he told her with all sincerity. “I know I should’ve consulted you before I rejected the Prime Minister’s offer outright, but I didn’t know if I’d get the opportunity. Besides, you are intelligent, much more so than some of these idiot sons of the other lords. If you’d been a boy you’d be receiving top marks at the Royal Academy. You’d also be looking forward to three years’ conscription in the army,” he added with a frown. “It’s mostly symbolic, but with the recent upheaval, I don’t think my nerves could’ve handled it. I’m glad you’re not a boy,” he finished bluntly. “I still think you’re more capable than any of them, though. You’ll pick up this guardian business in a snap, I’m sure of it.”

  Flora wasn’t sure at all, but after such a speech, she could hardly say so.

  Thus, she accompanied him to the palace to keep her appointment. She carried the consort applications with her, wondering if Prime Minister Moreland wanted her to return them now or if he had some new instruction to issue. She didn’t know how to read that man at all. He presented a very pleasant, civil face, but she suspected that he was manipulating a lot of strings when no one was watching him.

  Lord Dalton escorted her as far as Mr. Sterling’s desk and left her there with an encouraging squeeze of the hand. Flora reminded herself that whatever she was asked to do in this meeting, it was for her dad’s sake.

  He was a good man and would make a fine lord if anyone gave him half a chance. If she had to learn a little magic to give him some extra clout with Parliament, so be it. It certainly beat an arranged marriage.

  “The Prime Minister will see you now, Miss Dalton,” said Mr. Sterling. He gestured to an open door behind him. Flora quietly rose and, shouldering the canvas bag, entered.

  Prime Minister Moreland sat behind his desk. He was writing a letter with a very neat hand, but he paused to look up when she appeared. “Good morning, Miss Dalton. Please have a seat and I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

  Flora gingerly perched on the edge of the chair across from him. She watched him scrawl his signature and stamped the letter with the Prime Minister’s seal.

  “How did you sleep last night?” he asked as he set this note aside.

  “Poorly,” she replied. Her hands in her lap clenched and unclenched.

  “Well, that’s to be expected. I suppose your father informed you of our conversation yesterday?”

  She met his curious gaze. “You told him about the well and that it’s chosen me as a guardian. He declined your offer to instate a new guardian.”

  A smile cracked across his face. “That’s the long and short of it. How do you feel about that, Miss Dalton?”

  She replied with reserve. “I’ll support my dad’s decision.”

  “Spoken like a true politician’s daughter,” he said, and if she was not mistaken, there was a note of admiration in his voice. Suddenly he rose from his chair. “Come along, then.”

  Flora stared. “Come along where?”

  “It’s time for you to start your training as a guardian.”

  She looked to the canvas bag at her feet. “What about the applications?”

  “Bring them along. They’ll give you something to fiddle with after you’ve finished your first lesson. The Prince has advised that you not be left alone today, and since your father is here at the palace, here at the palace you too shall remain.”

  He exited his office. Flora swiftly picked up her bag and followed, down the hall and out of the administrative wing. She had never been this direction in the palace and had not the slightest idea where he was taking her. She walked two paces behind him the whole way, her steps quick to keep up with his longer stride. The sentries along the way watched curiously as she passed.

  At last they came to a pair of tall double-doors, much like the ones that set apart the Parliament on the ground floor. These doors were shut, and their surface was covered with ornate carvings and scrollwork, so much so that Flora thought she could stare for hours and still find new little details to distract her.

  Two sentries guarded the doors. Prime Minister Moreland addressed one.

  “Are my boys within, by any chance?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Viola?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Very good. Miss Dalton, come this way.” Then, to the soldiers’ astonishment, he opened the door and motioned her through. Flora passed, self-consciously aware of the two incredulous stares that followed her.

  The interior was a small vestibule with a pair of closed doors to the left and another pair to the right. Prime Minister Moreland went right. As he opened the doors there, Flora heard a couple of voices within. Their conversation immediately stopped. He motioned for her to enter ahead of him.

  The room was a library, two stories tall with a balcony that overlooked the lower floor. Shelves lined every wall, crammed full of books upon books. At the center of the room, on a long, comfortable couch, Charlie and Edmund Moreland both stared at Flora with wide eyes.

  “Is he here?” the Prime Minister asked his older son.

  The question jarred Charlie from his stupor. “N-no,” he stammered. He glanced nervously at Flora and then back to his father. “He slipped out to have a look at things.”

  “He took Gregor with him,” Edmund added sourly.

  “Did he take Viola with him?” Prime Minister Moreland asked in a dangerously calm voice.

  “Nuh-uh,” said Edmund. “She’s still with Mother—I just came from there.”

  “He left early,” said Charlie, and again he glanced in Flora’s direction. He seemed particularly uneasy about her presence. “He wanted to inspect the area and make sure nothing else tried to cross the city walls last night. He should be back before ten—that’s when Viola’s due.”

  “Hmm,” said Prime Minister Moreland. “Charles, I’ve brought along your newest pupil, as you can see. I rather wonder whether I should cart you all down to one of the basement rooms for now.”

  “I rather think you should,” Charlie replied plainly. “You’re going to cause trouble, bringing a visitor into the Prince’s private rooms.”

  Flora’s insides twisted uncomfortably. She’d suspected their present location since the Prime Minister had motioned her through those first double-doors, but to have it formally identified was something else.

  Prime Minister Moreland simply smiled. “I’ve already caused trouble by bringing her here. At least half a dozen soldiers saw us enter. Since they have no reason to believe the Prince himself isn’t present, the story that Miss Dalton was brought to meet him will have spread across the palace by lunchtime.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Charlie inquired skeptically.

  Prime Minister Moreland merely smiled again. Then, he tipped his head back toward the exit. “Let’s take your lessons to the basement. Grab a couple of beginning books for Miss Dalton. Edmund, you come along now and Charles will catch up as soon as he can.”

  “But the basement rooms are cold and damp,” Edmund protested.

  “You know how the Prince likes his privacy,” his father replied. “Besides that, I don’t think Miss Dalton was prepared to meet him this morning. Come along.”

  Flora ducked her head and fell in step behind the father and younger son, back through the grand double-doors, past the goggling sentries, and down several flights of a narrow staircase. The basement really was cold and clammy in comparison with the upper rooms. The lanterns along the wall provided the on
ly light, so that it seemed as though they had suddenly crossed into nighttime. She spotted a shadowed set of stairs that led even further underground and decided to be thankful they hadn’t gone down into the dungeons proper.

  “Here we are,” said Prime Minister Moreland, and he motioned the pair to enter a small, dark room. “Aduritote,” he added, and several lanterns suddenly blazed to life.

  “How d’you do that without working a seal first, Father?” asked Edmund curiously.

  “Who said I didn’t work a seal first?” the Prime Minister replied, and he ruffled his son’s hair fondly. “Have a seat, both of you. Charles should be with you any moment. Edmund, make sure he doesn’t teach Miss Dalton anything reckless.”

  “Don’t mistake me for Will,” said Charlie, who suddenly appeared on the threshold.

  “Trust me when I say I never could,” his father replied dryly. He moved to exit the room, but Charlie caught his sleeve.

  “You might’ve warned me you were bringing Miss Dalton this morning,” he said under his breath—reproachfully, Flora thought.

  “I didn’t know she would come,” the Prime Minister replied. “Does it matter? You know where she should begin her lessons—and I’ll remind you that there’s to be absolutely no magic for either of them today.”

  “Hey!” Edmund cried in outrage.

  “You’re still grounded for spying up on the balcony,” Charlie retorted. “I wasn’t going to give you any anyway.”

  Prime Minister Moreland went on his way and Charlie shut the door tight behind him. “Right,” he said, and he slammed the books in his arms down on the table where Flora and Edmund obediently waited. “Ed, you’re working on your seal patterns. Get to it.”

  Edmund sullenly dragged a workbook from the pile. Charlie handed him a pencil and then turned his attention upon Flora. “You get to start at the very beginning, Miss Dalton,” he said, “with the language.”

  Her heart dropped. “What language?”