Singer's Sword

by Cassandra Boyson

  As she completed her first stitch, a peculiar stiffness drew her attention to her right hand. A smear of gold gleamed back at her. She worked to wipe it away, but it would not budge. What could it be that it refused to part with her skin? It was unpleasantly tight. She would have to scrub it away later.

  She stopped short as something the maids in the hall had said resurfaced to her memory. “Have you ladies heard anything about how things are going with the alliance negotiations?”

  Stacia’s brows rose. “You do not know? The king of Bashtii has unceremoniously taken his leave of us. We’re all hoping it was because things went that smoothly, but… there are rumors Armond may have bungled things.”

  Hazel leaped to her feet. “I must see to this.”

  Entering the hall, her eyes fell on the very man she wished to see. “Gunther!” she called after him. “Is it true King Fredrick has taken his leave?”

  He nodded. “King Armond has just sent me to fetch you.”

  “But why was I not sent for the instant King Fredrick elected to depart from us?”

  “It was unannounced and, therefore, not discovered until he was quite gone.”

  “How I wish you were joking. Well, perhaps… perhaps things aren’t as they seem. I shall go to Armond.”

  But the sight of the king with hands wrung through his hair as he sat at his desk did little to soothe her.

  She took a step toward him. “He’s left then?”

  He looked up as if he had not even noticed her enter “He has?”

  Her brows rose. “Some hours ago. You’ve not been told?”

  “Nay, well, I supposed he would be leaving when he stormed out in that absurd fit, but I’d not thought so soon.”

  “So, he stormed out? Why should he do such a thing? That isn’t at all stately.”

  He shrugged. “The man is arrogant, won’t see reason and won’t compromise. We didn’t get on at all.”

  “I understand, but… we cannot afford to lose Bashtii. Something must be done.”

  His eyes darted back and forth as his mind raced. Finally, he looked to her. “What if I should promote you to royal diplomat, send you on to meet with him in Bashtii?”

  “Well, I…” It was precisely what she’d been thinking. She’d be hanged before she’d let that stuck-up prig of a Bashtiian king run off without a new agreement. She’d never have let him march from the room. “I suppose that would do just fine.”

  He sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Well, to send you away… to him.”

  It was difficult not to smile. In the end, she failed. “You will have the priest, and Dorian.”

  “You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

  “Well,” she said, desperately working to conceal her grin, “when do I leave, oh, king?”

  “With all those horses, they must take the Dreyen Peninsula. It’s a much longer journey than simply crossing the sea by ship. Upon their return, we shall send a messenger to request a welcome for you. Once we’ve received it, you may be on your way—in a few days, I suppose.”

  “That should do very well. Gives me time to pack and leave instructions with the servants. Speaking of, I wonder if you should appoint me head of staff. That way, anytime I direct them, it will be by your order.”

  He nodded. “You may be Kierelian emissary, my chief advisor and head of staff. I shall have it written up and signed before the day is out.”

  “You don’t think that’s too much?”

  “Not for you,” he said with a smirk.

  Eyes shining, she curtsied and pulled open the door.

  “Hazel,” he called.

  She turned.

  “Has it never occurred to you to just go ahead and take the throne like everyone wishes?”

  It stunned her that he was aware of the talk. Furthermore, she was saddened that he knew he was not wanted. “Of course not.”

  His brow rose. “You know that makes you something of an eccentric, Lady Hazel?”

  With a chuckle, she curtsied again. “You certainly know how to charm a maiden.”

  “Hazel, you… you won’t go falling for him, will you?”

  She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling before swiftly turning about to conceal her failure. She played at straightening the tapestry on the wall. “There is little chance of my falling for that pompous so and so, I assure you.” She gave it a final tug, then turned to search his face.

  He looked to her with a stunning grin. “And I suppose they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  She rolled her eyes and bounded through the door. “I suppose I’ll see you this evening,” she said over her shoulder.

  “You can be certain of that.”

  Hazel retreated happily but stopped short as the cleaning maid outside returned her smile. It was rather pointed… to the extent of making Hazel uncomfortable. Had the woman overheard Armond, er…paying her special attention?

  18

  Hazel breathed deeply of the sea air that rifled through her hair. Never in her life had she been aboard a ship, let alone a royal voyager. She closed her eyes and soaked up the overwhelming scent of salt, so fresh and obscure compared to anything she’d experienced. Not only was she traveling across the sea to the popular Bashtiian kingdom of which she’d heard so much about, but she went as an ambassador for her kingdom. So much had changed for her in the last year. She’d gone from a rejected, miserable caged bird to royal dignitary on her way to negotiate an alliance. She was at her leisure.

  Guardsman Gunther pointed to the forward horizon. Goosebumps of excitement flooded her skin as the white and gold flags of the harbor rippled in dramatic welcome. The closer they drew, the more eager she became until she was leaping up and down at the hull of the ship and leaning so far forward, Gunther begged her to step back. Reminded that she had a job to do for king and country, she worked to settle herself. She gathered all the stubbornness within her for her meeting with Fredrick.

  At last, they entered the frenzied port. Gunther directed her to retire to her cabin until he was prepared to escort her from the ship. Immediately, her maid scrambled her into new garments—a sophisticated gown in burgundy with a veiled headpiece to match. This, she easily recognized, had been designed by Dianna’s adept fingers. But even that fact could not bring her down.

  Thrilled to finally explore the docks, she was disappointed by the scarce peek she attained before being ducked into a closed carriage that started off with haste. When she turned to peer through the back window, she was certain the large party waving after her chanted, “Lady Fortune!” Could it be that the driver thought it wise to get her away from them? If so, what danger did they afford? They looked like a friendly lot. Even so, her driver sped swiftly onward until they had entered more private paths.

  “Gunther,” she began, “were those people—”

  “The driver informed me that the city has been celebrating since they heard of your coming. Their excitement was so great, King Fredrick thought it wise you were spirited from the public posthaste.”

  “As in… their eagerness might cause me harm? But I have not heard of such a thing except in books! And I cannot imagine they’ve never received a visitor from Kierelia before.”

  He raised a brow. “It is not that you are Kierelian but that you are Lady Fortune. Seems you’re a legend on these shores.”

  Her eyes grew wide as she gazed outside the window with embarrassment. How exaggerated had her story become that this was her reception? It was clear some mistake had been made.

  Soon they were passing through a populated street. This was where those of the middle class dwelled, or so she guessed by the edifices. It struck her how much freer these people were than those of her kingdom. Kierelians were a self-possessed, decorous lot. But many of these went barefooted. They laughed boisterously, argued in public streets, cried in public streets. Well-dressed children ran about as Kierelian urchins did.


  As they continued, it became clear that even their poorest lived by fairly comfortable means. They were a wealthy country, after all. This made them relaxed and, therefore, carefree—like a lot of children. But then, there was a sturdiness about them. It was in the way they were bodily built but also in how they worked. Those who went about tasks did so with determination, with a satisfaction in what they lay their hands to. Yes, they were undomesticated compared to Kierelians, but they were content with their lot and happy to do their duty… or so she imagined as she passed.

  With a gasp, she caught sight of what had to be the illustrious Illuminas Palace, standing erect and gleaming in a polished, terracotta-hued sandstone. Featuring dozens of grand, sparkling windows, it was further adorned with chiseled etchings in an ancient pattern, alluding to the kingdom’s boasted maturity. The structure easily dwarfed Kierelia’s new, swiftly built fortress. The wheels in her mind began to spin with plans for further construction, but she fairly gave it up as she noted the fountains lining the main drive that sent blue water soaring to the very heights of the castle itself.

  “Gunther, have you ever seen the like?”

  “I have not,” he murmured almost enviously.

  At last, the carriage halted before the marble steps of the imposing entry. Hazel was promptly aided from the carriage by a man who introduced himself as Harrin, a high-ranking member of staff. She was a little disconcerted by this, as she’d expected to be welcomed by Fredrick.

  “Lady Hazel,” he said with a low-sweeping bow, “what an honor to have you within our gates… truly.”

  With a small smile, she nodded, unsure of what might be expected of her.

  “Please, follow me and I will escort you to your chambers until his majesty returns.”

  Returns? With a brow raised, she did as directed but had to inquire, “When can I expect to meet with King Fredrick?”

  “Almost directly after you have made yourself comfortable, my lady. He had every intention of welcoming you himself but was called into the city to settle a matter of importance to its citizens.”

  Well, she could not blame him for being concerned for his people. She often wished the trait came more naturally to Armond. But if she knew him at all, it would come in time. After all, the way the two kings had come into their crowns differed vastly.

  “Oh…” Hazel sighed out as she was shown into her chambers.

  Harrin turned. “Is this not adequate for your needs, my lady?”

  She nearly laughed but shook her head instead. “It is perfectly suitable.”

  Her rooms in Kierelia were but a bedchamber and a closet of a sitting room. Here, she was afforded a three-room accommodation, all oversized and luxuriously decorated in a style utterly foreign to the simplicity of Kierelian convention. In fact, she’d have called the suite too extravagant if she weren’t eager to spend time in it. The space made her feel like a real royal (even if she was but a distant one) and revealed that Bashtii meant to honor their Kierelian guest.

  After Harrin departed to show Gunther and her maid, Anna, to their accommodations, she further surveyed the rooms that were superbly adorned in the terracotta palette and accented in periwinkle and ivory. But it was the view of the Bashtiian Sea outside her sizable windows that made her grin. Yes, she could bide her time here until Fredrick was prepared to meet with her.

  * * *

  “Lady Fortune!” Fredrick cried merrily upon entering his study.

  Hazel had been made to wait far longer than she felt was appropriate, but she merely stood unsmilingly to offer her hand. Her frown deepened when his gloved one easily took hers, reminding of the last time she’d seen him.

  His openness diminished as he released her, clearly picking up on her ill mood. “I must convey my deepest apologies for returning so late to meet you. I assure you we’d have had chaos in the streets had I not soothed matters between our merchants.”

  Hazel humbled. “I understand. I do hope all came to rights.”

  “It did,” he said confidently. “This has been a matter I’d been hoping would work itself out, but there comes a point when one must become more involved. In any case, I do beg your pardon and hope your welcome was gratifying.”

  “It was,” she admitted. “The rooms are… more than adequate. I thank you.”

  “Oh, please do not. It is no less than you merit.”

  This was spoken so genuinely it made her blush. Even so, she recalled her purpose. “I must say,” she said, lowering her voice, “I am astonished you so easily revoked the alliance between our kingdoms.”

  “Oh, the alliance isn’t revoked,” he said almost tiredly. “Should Kierelia ever regain its former strength, it would be too significant an ally to lose. But I’m afraid I must stress what a petulant, childish king you have placed on the throne. Brought me to the absolute end of my patience.”

  Her temper flared at his insults, but she gulped it down. “In the time I’ve known you, that hasn’t seemed entirely difficult to do.”

  He laughed easily. “I’m sure it does seem that way. But I assure you, I am known for my patience. Even so, I do not stand for extended disrespect and that is all I ever seem to receive from your kings.”

  “So, you let me come all this way just to tell me you do not mean to end the treaty?”

  “I let you come here so you and I could negotiate the arrangements of that agreement, something King Armond and I cannot do.”

  She sighed. “We already had an alliance between the previous kings. I do not understand what can have been so difficult for the two of you to sort out.”

  “For starters, he wants a fourth of my military at his disposal indefinitely… with nothing in return but promises for a bright future between our kingdoms. He would accept no less.”

  She froze as she felt her face flush red. She should never have trusted Armond to handle this on his own. His management of the southern tribal leaders had shown her that. But he’d displayed such confidence when making Dorian part of his guard, it had gotten into her head that the officiality of the coronation had put things to rights in his head. Unhappily, she recalled how people used to say he was too handsome to be of much use, but she would not give up so easily. “I think we should be able to negotiate something much more amenable to both countries.”

  “I rather thought as much,” he said with a grin.

  They spent the remainder of the day working on the treaty. Hazel was pleased to find it much less difficult than anticipated, as Fredrick was more generous than Armond would have had her believe. Well, she supposed not everyone could be expected to get along, but when it came to the leaders of neighboring monarchies, something would eventually have to be done. She would not tolerate their tantrums forever.

  As she peered above the plans Fredrick explained to her, she studied his expressions, absorbed his intonations. She recalled the way he’d arrived to protect Armond’s coronation even after he had been so dishonored in his prior visit. Could it be that Armond alone had been in the wrong? Yet, he was a feeling man. Surely, he had shown some reason. And after all, Fredrick had revealed his arrogance in his treatment of her at the coronation ball. No matter how polite he was with her now, she must assume it was all for the good of himself and his own kingdom.

  “I suppose we should stop here for now,” he suggested, “so our aids do not throw their backs out readying us for this evening.”

  “This evening?”

  His brows rose. “Surely you were informed about the ball to be held in your honor?”

  She shook her head, her mind racing as to what that may entail. She had hoped for a quiet dinner and then early to bed in her comfortable rooms.

  “So many of my people were anxious to make your acquaintance that it was resolved you would be received with a ball. I’m terribly sorry you were not informed. I suppose I’m the one who ought to have done it. But I am certain your servants will know all about it.”

  She nodded, dearly hoping this was the case.

 
On her way back through the halls, she was astonished to find the rumors about nobles who did not bother with footwear were true. In fact, she began to feel out of place in her slippers. Could it be she was expected to dance with exposed feet that evening?

  She rather hoped so.

  19

  Upon the landing of the ballroom staircase, Hazel stood in a gold gown, her hair curled and cascading down her back. Her frothy skirts sparkled with golden dust and her hair glittered with Bashtiian crystals. Not even for Armond’s coronation had she been so elaborately attired. But the gown had been selected to honor the “golden king” of Bashtii, so wear it she must. Shakily, she took her first step onto the case.

  To her horror, she nearly lost her footing when the room suddenly broke into applause. Whistles and shouts of “Lady Fortune!” besieged her so that it was all she could do to bite her lip, ignore her burning cheeks and survive the remainder of the stairs without tripping. She had nearly reached the bottom when she glanced up in time to find King Fredrick grinning up at her, clapping his own gloved hands as he released a sort of breathless huff. A sigh of admiration? She would not fall for that again. He appeared supportive merely to appease his country’s perplexing adoration of her.

  At last, her bare foot hit the floor and her fear of tripping down the stairs was behind her. But after righting her skirts, she looked up to find Fredrick standing over her with glimmering eyes. Upon noting her annoyance at his presence, he sobered. Yet, it was with a scarcely concealed smirk that he said, “As I am certain you relish no further compliment from me, I merely say you do your kingdom credit.”

  What was that supposed to mean? That he was amazed she hadn’t fallen down the stairs? That the clothing she’d been provided with aided her façade as a royal emissary?

  “Er, well, thank you,” she replied self-consciously, lifting her skirts in readiness to escape him.

  He held out a hand. “Won’t you share a dance with me?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you. I am certain there are far more suitable partners to be had here.”