The Rose Throne, Page 3

  “I think you are trying to make me do your job for you,” Ailsbet said angrily. “I told you I saw no man. If you know where he went, why do you not follow him? Perhaps I should be the one to send a message to the king, telling him that you expect women to hunt for you,” she finished.

  With a closer look at her face and gown, the hunter seemed to reappraise his initial assessment of her. He bowed and spoke more gently. “If you please, then, good lady. Have you seen anyone? A man and a girl, perhaps? Who might have looked suspicious?”

  Ailsbet glanced over the heads of the hunters and saw a fox scurry by on the road behind. The creature stopped for a moment and glanced at her. It was as if she could hear its thoughts, not in words, but in feelings, fear and anger and hatred toward the hunters. And the lust it felt for life, for the females of its own kind, for the taste of fresh food in its mouth.

  The anger Ailsbet had felt toward the ekhono hunters suddenly surged away from her, like an extra limb, growing and extending. She could feel it lurch toward the fox, but she could not stop it. Like a flame drawn by the wind, the heat of her anger encompassed the fox, which gave a cry of pain and fell dead on the ground.

  Ailsbet felt a moment of cool relief, her anger gone. Then her heart sped up in her chest. She felt a rush of sound in her ears, and she nearly fainted.

  The lead ekhono hunter turned and saw the dead fox, then gave a whoop of excitement. “She must be nearby!” he shouted to his men. “This is her taweyr, surely. It is newly come to her, and she cannot control it. Spread out and find her!” Ignoring Ailsbet, he leaped onto his horse and led his men away.

  Ailsbet was left with the sick realization that she, and not the young girl, had killed the fox. Which meant she was the one who could not control her taweyr.

  The anger that she had felt so many times over the last few years, the same hot anger that had led to the fox’s death—it had not been anger at all. It was the taweyr. It had always been the taweyr.

  She was not unweyr. She was ekhono.

  She had felt the fury of the ocean because it had tried to pull her taweyr from her.

  But when had it come to her? Her mother had tried to teach her neweyr when she was twelve, to no avail. But many girls developed their neweyr later than that. Ailsbet had held out hope that she had neweyr until she turned sixteen, when even late-blooming girls would have shown their magic. But it seemed that she had followed the path of men, who came into their taweyr later than women came into their neweyr.

  She felt a rush of sympathy for the ekhono, who were forced to flee Rurik for Weirland when they could no longer hide what they were. In Weirland, the ekhono were accepted, or at least tolerated. And before King Haikor came to power, the ekhono were part of Rurik, as well. They had been seen as different, but as useful, men who could speak to other men about the female magic, and women who could be warriors. There had been no need to burn their bodies to keep their taint from spreading, and no public burnings of those ekhono who were unfortunate enough to be captured alive.

  Oh, there had always been stories about the evil that the ekhono could do, stealing weyr from others, tainting it. Ekhono women who killed their husbands on their wedding nights to feast on their magic. Ekhono men who disguised themselves in the clothes of the other sex so they could work in a noble household and take advantage of the women there. Ridiculous stories that Ailsbet had never believed, not even as a child. She thought them as likely as stories about the continentals who could fly through the air while singing and attack her father’s men in the battle with Aristonne.

  Even before her father’s laws against them, the ekhono in the far reaches of the kingdom were sometimes killed by angry mobs, blamed for plague or illness, blamed for wives who had been unfaithful, for falling stars, for wishes gone awry, and even for disobedient children. But as far as Ailsbet could tell, throughout the history of Rurik, the ekhono had been law-abiding citizens, contributing to their communities in the same ways that those with the more common weyr did.

  Now Ailsbet wished desperately she had learned more stories of the ekhono, true or not. She certainly could not dare to ask for them now, when even the slightest hint of the truth could end her life. As someone who helped the ekhono, Duke Kellin had a deadly secret, and that gave her power over him. But her own secret was far worse. If she were found out, her father would have no mercy. He would gladly stand and watch while she burned.

  And after she was dead, he would do worse to her memory. Her name would never be spoken. Her mother and Prince Edik might be implicated in her disgrace. Her servants might be killed for helping her hide the truth, whether or not there was any proof of their guilt. The whole palace would be turned upside down as her father searched for other hidden ekhono.

  Ailsbet mounted the horse and rode it back to Baron Bartel’s estate. She returned to her bedroom, where she was lectured by Queen Aske about her responsibilities as a princess, and how she had worried everyone by leaving without a word. On a horse, the queen added, which might have thrown her and left her lying dead in a ditch somewhere in the vast countryside.

  Ailsbet listened and said nothing, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. The queen might be stupid not to see the truth, but some part of her must know that there was something truly wrong with Ailsbet, even if she did not name it. For once in her life, Ailsbet was glad that her mother was not given to seeking the truth or to speaking it aloud.

  At last, the queen left and Ailsbet turned to her flute for solace. But even music did not soothe her now. It could not change the truth of what she was, and the danger that would lurk at every turn, as long as she lived.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Issa

  PRINCESS MARLISSA OF WEIRLAND stood on the ramparts above the castle at noon, looking out on the craggy hills that surrounded her in all directions. Summer was waning, and soon Issa would use her part of the neweyr to bank the growth and fertility of the season, so that next year would be even more abundant than this one. But now, the neweyr of summer and life was at its height, and there was nothing in Issa’s mind as beautiful as the land. She could feel the harvest plants growing fat and heavy, the warmth of the air settling deep into the black soil. It was as delicious to her as any taste on her tongue, as sweet as any imagined kiss.

  “Issa, there is an emissary come from Rurik, waiting to speak to you in the Throne Room,” said her father, King Jaap, coming up behind her.

  “I am sure he would rather speak to you than me, Father,” said Issa. Since her mother’s death, she had taken the queen’s place in guarding the neweyr. But she had not yet decided if she would encourage the distant cousin who was her father’s heir to propose marriage to her. She had once considered marrying Lord Umber, whose lands were near the land bridge, but he had disappeared only a few weeks ago and was suspected of going to Rurik to give information to King Haikor. Whether he expected coins or new lands or a title for this betrayal, no one knew.

  “His name is Duke Kellin of Falcorn. He is one of King Haikor’s court favorites. He has come to offer a betrothal.”

  “A betrothal?” said Issa. Well, this would be interesting, at least. A duke of Rurik had never been to the kingdom before. In fact, Issa could not remember any official emissary ever coming from Rurik, only spies. She might have fun with this.

  Issa climbed down and made her way to the Throne Room in the other wing of the castle. Before she entered, her father touched her arm and she turned back to him.

  “I have sheltered you,” the king said. “Kept you from your responsibilities as princess.”

  “I have been guiding the neweyr in my mother’s place since I was eleven years old,” Issa protested. “How is that sheltering me from my responsibilities?”

  “Not the responsibilities of the neweyr, but the responsibilities of the throne. You are a princess, Issa, and it is time that you were used as one.”

  Issa still did not understand what her father meant, but she puzzled over it as he led her into the Throne Room
. A man stood when they entered. He was tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. He was dressed in a long, thick, wool cloak that was adorned with pearls along the edge, and he seemed utterly untouched by the wear of the weeks of travel he would have endured on the journey here. It made Issa more conscious of her own worn tweed gown, the edges of her sleeves dirty from her work in the garden early that morning, the skirt with a tear to one side.

  Issa glanced back up and saw Duke Kellin observing her every movement. There was a kind of arrogance in the set of his mouth and in the point of his chin. He seemed to Issa everything that she would have expected from a nobleman of King Haikor’s court. He was younger than she had expected, but perhaps King Haikor had run out of older, more experienced men. It was said that his favorites died with a frightening regularity.

  “King Jaap,” said Kellin with a formal bow. Then he turned to her. “Princess Marlissa.” He bowed again, and held out his hand.

  Issa gave him her own hand. When he kissed it, the sensation was strangely cold. Did he think she would marry him because he was handsome and powerful in King Haikor’s court?

  “I come to you with gifts from King Haikor.” The duke offered Issa a small velvet bag. “To match the shine of your eyes,” he added.

  Inside the bag was an emerald the size of a hummingbird’s egg. Issa had never seen anything so valuable. Despite herself, she was impressed with the gift. King Haikor must truly value Duke Kellin, if he was willing to send such a gift to the woman Kellin hoped to marry.

  Issa could have used her neweyr to reach inside the faint veins of life inside of the emerald and expand the flaws that lay deep within. It would crumble to dust in her hands if she wished it. But she resisted the impulse and instead glanced at her father to see if she should accept it.

  King Jaap nodded, so Issa held the emerald in the palm of her hand, moving it this way and that to see the facets shimmer. It was beautiful indeed, and it was worth half the castle, she had no doubt. Kellin was handsome, to be sure, but she did not know if she liked the brooding look of his.

  “And this,” Kellin said, “to bring you the sweetest smell of summer even in the dark of winter.” He handed her a tiny box, which, when opened, let out a strong scent of lavender. It was not soap, but a candle.

  A gift from a man who knew nothing of the neweyr, she thought. If she wished to have the scent of any summer flower in winter, she could bring it up from the banked neweyr in the earth herself. She set the candle gently on the table.

  “Finally, a gift from Prince Edik himself,” said Duke Kellin, holding out a tiny metal figure.

  From Prince Edik? Issa took the gift at her father’s nod and held it up to the light. It was a female figure, dressed in a simple shift, holding a peace lantern. The details were exquisite.

  “I thank you,” said Issa politely. “I shall keep these gifts close to my heart.” Though she did not understand why Duke Kellin had brought a gift from the king, as well as the young prince. Why would Kellin not bring something from his own estate, if he wished to offer her a personal touch?

  “Perhaps you should begin at the beginning, Duke Kellin,” King Jaap suggested. He took this all more seriously than Issa did, it seemed. “The princess would like to tend to all of the details of the betrothal.”

  Duke Kellin glanced at Issa. “Of course,” he said. “I have come to offer a betrothal between you and young Prince Edik of Rurik, Your Highness.”

  And suddenly, Issa was no longer amused or puzzled. A betrothal with Prince Edik of Rurik? Her father might have warned her. She glanced at him and saw a hint of apology in his eyes. But it was her fault, for not thinking more carefully. Her father had been all seriousness. This was not a betrothal she could simply refuse out of hand. She dared not insult King Haikor, who had threatened before this to come across the land bridge and, with his superior army and taweyr, take Weirland for himself.

  “Prince Edik is a child,” Issa said, struggling to keep her voice calm. She knew that much of the ruling family of Rurik.

  “He is twelve years old and will soon be thirteen,” Duke Kellin answered. “He has already begun to show the wealth of taweyr that is his inheritance as the son of King Haikor, and his father believes that he is ready to be betrothed. Of course, the wedding will not take place until he is of age, at eighteen.”

  “Of course,” echoed Issa. Though there had been stranger marriages than this one in the history of the two kingdoms.

  “Your father has a portrait of the prince, which King Haikor also sent to you,” added Duke Kellin.

  At this, Issa looked up, and King Jaap passed her a miniature portrait, small enough to hold in the palm of her hand, the decorative wooden frame around it dwarfing the subject.

  Issa saw a boy with dark hair and small features. She hoped that the grim expression was the painter’s attempt to make him look martial, for it did not seem to fit the rest of the figure at all.

  “He is every inch his father’s son,” said Duke Kellin, as if that were something that would sway Issa in the boy’s favor.

  In her own mind, Issa was glad to see that Prince Edik looked little like the descriptions of King Haikor she had heard. The king was supposed to be an enormous man, in height and girth, known in his youth for his red hair, though now it was streaked with gray. It was said that he was capricious, ruthless, very canny, and had not an ounce of loyalty to anyone but himself. How could she marry the son of that man, however unlike him? How could her father expect that of her?

  She looked at King Jaap, but his expression told her nothing. “What else can you tell me of the prince?” Issa asked, turning to Duke Kellin.

  “He is well mannered, a little shy of court as yet, though he is still young and will grow into his place. He reads widely and has a good hand. I’m sure you will see that when you receive his letters. He has already learned the elements of combining sword-play with taweyr and practices daily with the king’s guard.”

  All these were things that Issa would expect the emissary to say about the prince and future king of Rurik. Duke Kellin could hardly say anything other than what would be complimentary, whether or not it was true.

  “When would the betrothal take place?” asked Issa.

  “On the first day of autumn in the new year,” said Kellin. “That would give enough time for the preparations to take place, and for the negotiations to be complete.”

  In little more than a year’s time, she would be betrothed to a thirteen-year-old boy? Issa could not imagine it. “And it will be in Rurik? Not in Weirland?” said Issa.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Of course, because Rurik was the more powerful kingdom and because King Haikor would not allow anything to happen to his son that was not in his direct control.

  “So I shall be coming to Rurik before the betrothal?” asked Issa.

  “You will come next summer, so that you and Prince Edik will have a few months to become acquainted with each other.”

  Though by then the arrangements for the betrothal would be done. There would be no chance for either of them to change his or her mind.

  No, this was the moment of decision. Once Issa gave Duke Kellin her agreement, there would be no turning back, no matter how she found the prince in person. If he was disgusting or mute or an idiot, he would be her husband even so. Because she was the princess, and in the end, she must do what her father asked her to do.

  This is what he meant when he had told her he had sheltered her from responsibilities. Since her mother had died when she was eleven and Issa had come into her own neweyr, she had done everything she could to fulfill the responsibilities of the queen with regard to the neweyr. But Issa had always believed she might marry for love, as her father and mother had. Her father had hinted at the changes in Weirland’s position as King Haikor grew more powerful and wealthier in his trade with the continent. He had allowed her to hear stories of the king’s spies sent to Weirland to discover its weaknesses. But he had not come out and told her
that she would be sacrificed to protect Weirland. He had waited until Duke Kellin had come to bring the difficult news to her, and she had no time to prepare herself for this.

  “Will my father not come with me?” asked Issa.

  Duke Kellin’s eyes flickered toward her father. “King Haikor believes your father would prefer to stay in his own kingdom, to keep it safe.”

  Of course, King Haikor did not want King Jaap in Rurik. The betrothal and the wedding were to be all in his control, and King Jaap was not to be seen as a different sort of king to the example King Haikor himself presented.

  “If you agree to this, Princess Marlissa, I can tell you of all the details at some length.”

  Issa nodded. It was not Kellin’s fault that her father had not told her of the news he’d brought. “Thank you. I shall think on the betrothal and give you an answer on the morrow.”

  Duke Kellin bowed and departed.

  Now Issa was alone with her father. “How long have you known?” she asked.

  “King Haikor sent an official letter early in the spring,” King Jaap admitted.

  “Lord Umber?”

  Her father shook his head. “He did not know if it.”

  “I suppose he will have plans of his own in Rurik. And I must accept the offer,” said Issa. Did she want her father to treat her as a child again, tell her a comfortable lie instead of the real truth?

  “There would be consequences if you insulted King Haikor,” said King Jaap.

  “Perhaps that is what he truly wants, to be given an excuse to invade us and take Weirland for his own.”

  Her father shook his head. “If he wanted to have an excuse to invade, there are easier ways of arranging it. No, I think he has decided that this is the easiest way to get Weirland. No more need for spies, no need to expend either armies or taweyr. Only his son.”