The Rose Throne

by Mette Ivie Harrison

  Our two kingdoms have long been enemies, but it was not always so. Let us return to peace and prosperity together. Rurik will be greater with Weirland added to it, and Weirland will be greater, as well. Your neweyr is renowned as strong, and my taweyr will be as strong as my father’s. With them together, we shall look to the future. It will be the same with our two thrones, and with us.

  Prince Edik of Rurik.

  After she copied the final draft, Ailsbet left the letter in Edik’s chamber, curious to hear what happened to it. But when Edik had recovered, and the king and the court returned from the countryside, the letter was sent as she had written it. It seemed the king did not see the hints at the prophecy, or perhaps did not know the prophecy well enough to see them.

  On the contrary, King Haikor laughed over the letter’s length and teased Edik over his way with women. He seemed to think the letter was too short and very plainly written. But he announced officially that Duke Kellin had negotiated a betrothal between Edik and the Weirese princess and that the official binding ceremony would take place on the first day of autumn.

  This, at last, seemed to reach Lord Umber, and he reacted by becoming more obsequious around the king, more eager to please, and the sense of humor that Ailsbet had once enjoyed became a tool to make the king and court laugh often. Ailsbet once shared a glance with Duke Kellin in the midst of one such incident, and she thought she saw a warning in his eyes.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ailsbet

  “LET US HAVE A SPRING HUNT,” the king suggested one warm afternoon.

  “It is my pleasure to serve Your Majesty,” said Lord Umber humbly.

  “Of course,” said Duke Kellin.

  Ailsbet sometimes wondered if she had been mistaken when she saw Kellin in the south last summer. The man who dared to flout King Haikor’s orders and save an ekhono could not be the same nobleman who stood at the king’s side so quietly day in and out. He never seemed to look for any benefit to himself for his services, and though he was never fawning as Lord Umber had become, he was always carefully dutiful. “We will go into the forest tomorrow and see who brings back the greater prize,” said King Haikor to the court.

  “And what will the winner of this competition receive?” asked Lord Umber.

  “A hundred gold pieces,” said King Haikor. “And a favor granted by the king.”

  “If I should win, I would not ask for any gold, only my king’s ever-gracious goodwill,” said Lord Umber.

  “I am sure that you will do honor to your new king and kingdom, Lord Umber,” said Duke Kellin.

  “I shall do more than honor the king. I shall prove to him I am of such value that he may wish to have a new man as his favorite,” said Lord Umber.

  “That would indeed be a worthy prize for a man who proves the fiercest hunter,” said the king. But a look passed between Kellin and the king that made Ailsbet sure the two of them knew more than Lord Umber.

  Nonetheless, Lord Umber strutted about the rest of the day, unaware of any danger.

  Ailsbet did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned with images of Lord Umber being chased by her father on horseback, being caught and killed with the king’s taweyr stopping his heart. She woke early and lay in bed, wondering what her father intended for Lord Umber. Had he ever intended Ailsbet to marry him?

  In the end, Ailsbet went outside to see the men off. The other ladies of the court were already there. She had never made any close friends among them, and she held herself at a distance now. If they thought she was arrogant, she did not care. She did not intend to be distracted from what was happening between her father and Lord Umber.

  She watched as Lord Umber boasted about what he would do to the boar that day, how quickly they would all be returning. The king nodded and clapped him heartily on the back. Duke Kellin stood at the king’s side. His riding clothes were black, in contrast to the colorful raiment worn by all the others. It might have been his choice simply to remain in the background, or it might have been more than that.

  Once the men were gone, the other noblewomen went back into the palace to continue their gossip. But Ailsbet stayed outdoors, pacing in the courtyard, imagining the scents and smells of the royal forest and the feeling of her own taweyr allowed to go free, until the party returned. She half-expected that it would be not a dead boar that returned to the palace, but Lord Umber’s body.

  But late that afternoon, when the party returned, Lord Umber had indeed won the hunt. He had a boar over his horse’s flank, its eyes glassy with death, its tusks red with blood.

  When Ailsbet looked at her father, there was a sly smile on his face. “A hundred gold pieces,” he called out to a page. “Bring them to Lord Umber at once.”

  “But Your Majesty, I have no wish for such a reward,” said Lord Umber.

  The king would not hear him. “I shall not be known as a man who does not pay his debts,” he said.

  Ailsbet looked closely at Lord Umber, seeing his face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and his hunting jacket had been torn in several places. He limped a little and acquiesced to the king’s suggestion that the boar be cleaned and trussed for the evening’s dinner. She caught up to him as he headed to his own chambers. “What happened to you in the woods?” she asked. “Did my father attack you?”

  “Of course not. I am a better hunter than he could hope to be. Can you not see my strength in every motion?” he said.

  “You are injured,” said Ailsbet.

  He waved a hand at her. “A scratch. I am in no pain. There will be no lasting damage. The boar took me high.” He put a hand just below his ribs on his right side. Ailsbet could see no blood seeping through his tunic, and she assumed that he must have been bandaged after the boar was dead, for her father always took the palace physician along on the hunt.

  “But why is my father so pleased with himself?” asked Ailsbet.

  “Because I am soon to be his favorite, and you and I shall be married,” said Lord Umber easily, and he drew her close to him. “I hope that you have changed your mind at last, eh?” He stole a kiss before she could pull away, then laughed and stumbled down the hallway.

  Ailsbet hurried away from him, back to the courtyard. She tasted bitter and sweet at once in her mouth, and she felt a prick of pain in her throat. She swallowed again and again, but her throat grew hotter and more painful. She could feel sweat break out on her face and had to focus on her footsteps to keep herself from wandering. She did not know where she was, still inside the palace or out.

  She felt a hand on her neck, lifting her head. It felt cold and hard, and the pain in her throat worsened. She recognized her father’s face close to her own and would have pulled away, but she realized she did not have the strength.

  “What did you do? Did you touch his wound?” the king demanded.

  Ailsbet shook her head firmly, shuddering at the thought.

  But King Haikor seemed not to believe her. He pulled up her hands and examined them. “I see no blood.” Then he sniffed them. “No scent of it, either. Good.”

  She was in his royal chambers, Ailsbet realized. She could not remember if she had been here before. She gazed around at the sumptuous curtains in damask and silk, the braided hangings on the walls, and the great bed, the size of ten bears all lying together.

  Ailsbet concentrated on what she could remember, before she had become confused. Earlier in the day had been the spring hunt. Lord Umber had won. Her father had seemed cheerful.

  “What did you do?” asked Ailsbet, her words slurred. “To Lord Umber?”

  King Haikor answered, “He thought he would take my place as king. My place. And then he came willingly into my forest, where the animals have long been taught to fear me and to answer when I call.”

  “Did you use your taweyr on him?” Ailsbet asked.

  “I helped call the boar to him with my taweyr,” her father answered. “A generous act, do you not agree? At the last moment, the boar went wild and gored him. But lightly
, only lightly. I made sure of that.”

  It had all been staged. And Lord Umber did not understand any of it. “But why?” Ailsbet asked. “If you meant to kill him, why not do it openly? Why the hunt?” The man had already betrayed his own kingdom, and her father had killed other noblemen in court. Clearly Lord Umber’s fortunate arrival in Rurik had offered a second way to take Weirland and was unnecessary now that Marlissa was to marry Edik.

  Her father made a theater of answering her, walking slowly around her as he spoke, as if telling a story on a stage. “He thrust the spear straight into the boar’s eye. The creature died instantly and fell forward, pulling him with it. Only then did he notice that he was wounded, for he saw the blood on the tusk. What was I to do but send the palace physician to aid him?”

  Poison again, thought Ailsbet. It sent a message to others in his court who might consider crossing him in the future. If they ever believed that the king was showing weakness, it was likely just a ruse. He might be toying with them. They could never trust that he would not come for them when they least expected it.

  Her father pinched Ailsbet’s cheeks as if teasing her. “You kissed him, did you? Kissed him because you thought he had come back victorious, that you would sit in your mother’s place and he would sit across from you on my throne?”

  She did not know what to say. The king had arranged the betrothal. It had not been her choice. And now he blamed her for trying to make the best of it?

  “Well, it is no matter.” King Haikor said casually. “He did not want you, only my kingdom. And now he has what he deserves.”

  The sting of her father’s assessment was sharper than the pain of the poison. “He is dying,” she said, trying to decide if she should mourn or rejoice.

  “And what of yourself? Do you not care if you are dying?” asked King Haikor.

  She stared at him.

  “How well did he kiss you? For how long did you taste his tongue?”

  Ailsbet spat at her father’s vulgarity, but he had already turned away.

  He clapped his hands for his servants to remove her to her own chambers. As she left, he said, “It is not a fast-acting poison. He will die slowly. And you will not know if you are to die with him for weeks to come.”

  She did not die, but there were many hours when she wished she would. Her room stank of illness and sweat, and her maid came in often to wipe her brow and change her bedding. She did not know how much time had passed until she was nearly over the worst of it, and Prince Edik came to see her. He told her it had been three days.

  “You should not be here. He will be angry,” Ailsbet whispered to him.

  “You came when I was ill,” said Edik.

  “That was different,” Ailsbet said. She was not ill. She had been poisoned, by her father and by her own stupidity.

  “Umber?” asked Ailsbet.

  Edik shook his head

  So the man was dead. By now, she felt only relief.

  “She is coming,” said Edik suddenly.

  “Who?”

  “Princess Marlissa of Weirland is coming at midsummer to finalize the betrothal,” said Edik.

  And so Ailsbet would do what her mother had asked, and make sure that Edik and Marlissa were married and the two kingdoms were bound once more. What would happen to the weyrs she did not know. Perhaps it would not matter, if she went to Aristonne after the wedding. What place would she have here in Rurik then? Princess Marlissa would not want her there to threaten any heirs she and Edik had, and the other princess would have no use for a woman who had no neweyr.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Issa

  IN LATE WINTER, news came to Weirland that Queen Aske had died under mysterious circumstances, and Issa wondered if this would affect her betrothal to Prince Edik. But some weeks later, Issa received a letter from Prince Edik himself.

  “Read it and think on it. Then come back and tell me what you think he has revealed of himself,” said King Jaap. Their relationship, once so warm, had become rather distant. Issa did not know how to heal the breach or even if she wanted to.

  “Thank you for the privacy,” said Issa. She took the letter and went away from the castle to the Queen’s Garden. She sat on her favorite, moss-covered stone bench and read with only the scent of the lilacs to distract her.

  It was a good letter, far better than Issa had expected. He did not sound like a child, as he had seemed in his portrait. He did not sound like his father, either, at least as Issa had heard King Haikor described. There was no arrogance in the letter, and there was a hint of warmth, of need. Perhaps he was as lonely in his world as Issa now felt in hers.

  She looked up and realized it was nearly sunset. She was normally so connected to the neweyr that she did not lose track of time. She hurried back to her father in the Throne Room.

  “And what do you think?” he asked.

  “The handwriting is polished, the letters well formed,” said Issa.

  Her father made a face. “What else? We do not know if it was written in his own hand. He could have dictated it.”

  “Then it may be nothing is his,” said Issa.

  “That is possible. But I do not think that is a letter that King Haikor would have written himself, so I suspect the words, at least, are the young prince’s. Or something like.”

  “You have already decided yourself what it means,” said Issa. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Because I want to have your opinion. And be sure that you are able to make your own judgments before I send you off to another kingdom alone.”

  Before he sent her off, because he would send her off. “He spoke well of you,” said Issa.

  “Another proof that it was not King Haikor who wrote it. He would choke on his own tongue before he would say anything in my favor.”

  “Is he mocking you, do you think? It could be King Haikor’s sense of humor,” suggested Issa.

  “His sense of humor is not so subtle,” said King Jaap. “Now, what else?”

  “It seems humble,” said Issa. “He says he is not a scholar, and that he has no intention of flattering me.”

  “You are not offended that he does not praise your beauty?” asked King Jaap.

  “Are you?” asked Issa. But before he could answer, she shook her head. “No, I am not offended.

  “He speaks of matters of substance. Of our kingdoms, of the different styles of ruling, and of the hope for the future,” said Issa carefully.

  “Yes. What of that?”

  Issa thought for a moment. “The prophecy,” she said. “He hints at it.”

  “Are you sure?” asked King Jaap. “It is never clear.”

  “It could not be, if King Haikor was to allow it to come to us. He hates the prophecy, or so you have always told me.”

  “Yes. He threatens death to any who speak it on the street in the capital city, let alone the palace itself.”

  “But Edik knows of it and believes it,” said Issa. “It is part of why he looks to the betrothal with a happy heart.”

  King Jaap nodded. “Perhaps. I hope it is so. I hope that you and I shall find a meeting place in that, as well as in other things. But it is a good beginning.”

  “And the part about the hounds of the king—” Issa began. “Do you think that Duke Kellin told him of the gift I planned to offer him on my arrival?” She did not know if that would spoil the surprise.

  “I do not think so. I think it is a genuine confluence of interest,” said her father.

  “Well, then,” said Issa. She was not sure how to take that. It seemed a very good sign.

  “Can you love him?” her father asked.

  “I think I can,” said Issa. But as soon as she said it, she thought again of the portrait. Love was a word that had many meanings. She did not know if the boy she had seen would ever stir her heart to thump wildly in her chest or make her wish for the touch of his lips. But she could be his friend, his confidante. She could find a kind of happiness with him, even if it was not t
he kind of happiness she had seen her mother and father share.

  “Then can you forgive me?” her father asked.

  Issa did not like to admit how angry she had been. She bowed her head. “I understand why you did it.”

  Her father lifted her head and stared into her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “It will be difficult for you there. I understand that. You will have to learn to understand what is meant, and not what is said. Nothing is on the surface in Rurik. You will have to read faces and gestures and think ahead to survive. You will have to twist yourself into a new shape, one you have never conceived of before.” It seemed to Issa that this, too, was part of her father’s apology. Though it sounded a good deal like Duke Kellin’s advice to her on that last fateful day in the library, and for that she disliked it.

  “Streams twist, and when they do, they offer water to more places. Trees twist in the wind, and it strengthens their trunks,” said Issa.

  “If they do not break,” said her father. He kissed the top of her head, then sent her on her way.

  Back in her own chambers, Issa put the letter in her chest and locked it.

  When it was full spring, with the roads to the land bridge still too muddy to travel on, King Jaap called all the noblemen of Weirland to the castle for a jousting tournament to disperse any buildup of taweyr that had occurred over the winter when the weather had kept the men apart.

  The blue-and-green flag of Weirland that flew overhead was an old one and had been slashed and repaired multiple times. Her father was proud of it, since it had been made in the first year of his own reign. Issa felt a nostalgic twinge at the sight of it.

  Issa and the other ladies of the court sat in the shade of a willow tree, in a good position to watch the tournament. At her side were Lady Willa, Lady Sassa, Lady Neca, and Lady Hadda, all close to Issa in age and all adept in the neweyr.