Bloodkin (Jaseth of Jaelshead) (37 page)

“’Course not! Thomas will keep me in line, won’t you, old boy?”

Thomas sighed and raised his eyes to the heavens. “Try as I do, I am still only one man. It would take an army of Mentors to keep you in line ‘Geth.”

Lolitha giggled. “Come on, you silly boys, we’ve got a banquet to get to.”

We crossed the bridge to the castle in the midst of other clumps of guests, all dressed in their absolute finest. At the archway, a liveried official checked our names against a list of invitees he held in his hand. Satisfied we were supposed to be there, he waved us through.

Inside the castle gates, a great courtyard spread almost the entire width of the island. An abundance of torches hung in brackets from the walls, illuminating the watchful faces of the guards who patrolled along the top. More torches set into the ground created an avenue from the gateway to the huge open doors of the castle itself. Its massive stone walls stretched up against the black, starlit sky. It really was an imposing entrance. Round towers squatted at each end of the main façade, and light shone from slits of windows that stretched up many floors. Behind the square blocks at the top of the front of the castle, numerous smaller turrets poked upwards.

The castle had always been there, visible from my room at the Hall, but I had barely given it much thought since I had moved to Lille. Now, faced with the prospect of actually going inside, I rather wished I had.

Another official met us at the castle door, checking our names against another list and indicating which way we were to proceed. The entrance hall was huge, the walls were hung with glorious tapestries and rows of great pillars supported the roof. Down the end of the hall, we walked to the door on the far right side that the official had indicated and were met by a little female page that ushered us through and to our assigned seats.

The banquet hall was wide, with the tables set up along the walls. On the far side, the Queen’s table was on a slightly raised dais. Our table was tucked in the corner, about as far away from the royal table as it was possible to be. Although candelabra glowed down the middle of each table and large, free-standing versions lined the walls, the ceiling was hung with huge glowbes, shining down their soft ambience.

The other tables gradually filled as we sat and waited. More of the little pages had run around pouring glasses of wine and water, and conversation increased the noise level in the room to a steady hum.

Suddenly, the big doors behind the royal table swung open and the now-hushed crowd rose to its feet. There was the Queen, on the arm of her Advisor, followed by an expensively-dressed couple – the Lord and Lady of Lille, I guessed. Everyone sat as the Queen took her seat in the middle of the royal table, and conversation resumed.

I looked about the room as the first course was served – delicate slivers of spiced fish in a creamy sauce on a decorative bed of lettuce. I don’t know why, but I was surprised to see Hanniash at the next table along from the Queen’s dais. Silly, I told myself, of course she would be there, she
is
the High Priestess of Lille, after all. Among the numerous, faceless politicians and influential peoples of Lille I saw a striking blonde couple, the woman looked so much like Sallagh my heart skipped a beat, but I realised that they were probably her parents. Sallagh herself had apparently not received an invite. Man, she’ll kick herself when she realises she could have come if she’d stayed at the Hall, I thought to myself a little guiltily.

The plates were cleared and a second course, then a third and fourth were served. I tried to concentrate on my food and what the others were saying, but my eyes kept creeping up to stare at the Queen. She was wearing a Nea’thi-style robe in royal blue, edged with expensive gold thread, with a high, upturned collar instead of a hood. Her hair had been pulled back into a complicated knot and on her head sat a delicate gold crown, set with sapphires that winked in the candlelight. I could see her talking to the Lord of Lille – well, being talked
at
really, but her eyes discreetly roamed the room. Suddenly, she looked directly at me, hidden in the corner as I was, and I ducked my head, embarrassed that she had seen me staring. I chanced a look back up at her, but her gaze had moved on, although I think I detected the faintest smile tugging at her lips. Shit.

“Oi, what’s wrong Jas? You hot? You’ve gone all pink!”

Bloody Telgeth! “Um, nothing. The Queen just looked at me.”

Telgeth guffawed disbelievingly. “Yeah, sure she did. Hey, she was probably looking at me! Man, I wish I had seen, you should have waved.
I
would have waved!”

Like hell he would have, I thought. To be caught by those clear, slate-blue eyes was to be frozen in place, stupefied. I thought of Sallagh and the guilt twinged again. I shouldn’t be thinking about the Queen like that. Hell, I probably shouldn’t be thinking about her at all! But she was so immeasurably calm and regal and sort of otherworldly. She had been assessed by Nea’thi and voted into office by a majority of her people, and they can’t all have been wrong. This woman was
special
.

When the courses had been consumed and the dishes cleared away, the pages had circulated, offering coffees and sweet dessert wines. As the last little page had skipped from the banquet hall, Queen Thaelique rose and the assembly hushed expectantly.

“Dear people of Lille, firstly, on behalf of my Advisor, I would like to thank you all for this marvellous welcome.” Her voice was low and warm but carried over the polite applause of the gathered crowd. “As we saw the sun set on the old year this night, tomorrow will see it rise on a new one. My hope is that it will bring peace and prosperity to the people of the city and indeed, the whole country, and we are honoured to look forward to enjoying it with you, my people of Lille!” The applause was much less polite this time, so emphatic was the crowd in its approval of the Queen’s words. I felt something stir within me, a kind of hope, excitement maybe. This last year felt like it had only begun more than halfway through, when Charlie turned up at the Manor that fateful late-summer afternoon. The months at the Hall had been crazy, busy, overwhelming at times, but the weirdness that still lingered about the incident on Samhain and the still-raw wound of Odette’s death seemed momentarily to dissipate. I wondered briefly if the Queen was using Hầұeӣ to emphasise her words, but no, she was not Nea’thi-Blood. The sparks of hope I felt were simply from the power of her words. The Queen and her Advisor were here,
here!
This new year could not help but be amazing, I was suddenly sure of it.

“Please, let us all relax and enjoy some entertainment. Peace be with you all. So mote it be!” The Queen helped her Advisor to his feet and they led the Lord and Lady of Lille through the door behind the dais. Courtiers moved in and shifted their table back and out to the side, and through the door the Queen had just left by, a group of musicians entered and began to set up on the raised platform. I recognised them immediately as they began to play – they were O’Malley’s group of Nea’thi-Bloods from Allyon that had commanded the headlining slot at the Shivering Thistle for the past few months. It looked as if the party was going to stretch into the night, at least until midnight when we would officially celebrate the turning of the year.

Chairs were scraped back on the tiled floor as guests began to mingle. The Mentors went over to speak to an important-looking group of Nea’thi officials, and I leaned back in my chair, seriously full and possibly a little drunk, after the quantity of good Jaelshead wine that had been served with dinner.

“So, what do you think?” Telgeth asked me.

“Of what?”

“Of what?! The Queen, you idiot!”

“Oh, uh, she seems… nice.”

“Nice!” he exclaimed. “Fyar khanall, Jas, you certainly are a man of understatement, aren’t you. ‘Litha, your opinion of our beloved Monarch?”

Lolitha was clearly a bit drunk at this point too, because she sighed dreamily. “Well I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for farting.”

“Wow.” Telgeth gasped a laugh. “Well put, my friend, well put indeed.”

I noticed movement out in the banquet hall as from a side-door the Queen and her Advisor appeared with the Lord and Lady of Lille. They moved through the assembled crowd into the centre of the room, in front of the musicians. There they began to dance in their pairs, slow, formal movements. I couldn’t keep my eyes from the Queen as her blue robe swirled about her figure and light glinted off the crown on her head. Other couples went to join in the dance, and Jimmy bounded over.

“Lolitha, my pet, a dance for your dear old Mentor?” She shrugged and stood, taking Jimmy’s proffered hand.

“Right, your Mentor can have the first one, then you’re
mine
,” Telgeth warned her and she snorted.

“Not if I can help it, you’ll break all the bones in my feet!”

We watched as Jimmy led her out, placing one hand on her waist and guiding her in a graceful waltz. We sipped our wine and watched the pairs of dancers. Between every song they bowed to each other, then swapped partners. I caught glimpses of the Queen, after dancing with her Advisor she danced with the Lord of Lille, then the man who I thought was Sallagh’s father, then on and on. I saw Hanniash, conspicuous with her bald head and bright yellow robes, dancing with the city’s Lord, then the Queen’s Advisor, then Charlie, who had somehow eased his way into the thick of things.

The evening was getting late, and I realised that I was in dire need of a bathroom. I looked about and sighted one of the pages, a little girl of no more than ten, struggling to stay awake in a chair by the door. She pointed out the direction of the bathrooms to me and I staggered off gratefully.

When I returned, before I could get back to Telgeth and Dunkerle at our seats I heard someone call my name. I saw Hanniash staring at me and she waved me over.

“Lady, this is Lord’s heir Jaseth of Jaelshead.”

And then there I was, pinned by the full forces of those slate-blue eyes.

“Uh, your majesty,” I tried to bow. Queen Thaelique smiled at me and my right knee wobbled as I tried to stand up straight.

“Please, call me Thaelique.”

“Oh, yes, my apologies, er, Lady Thaelique.”

Her smile showed off straight, even teeth and she nodded, as if to acknowledge my reluctance to call her simply by her first name. She was the Queen, after all, I couldn’t just call her Thaelique, it wouldn’t be right!

Hanniash glowed her smile at me. “Now the Advisor and I have some things to discuss—” Hell, I hadn’t even noticed the tiny old man standing with the two women. Shit! I bowed at him quickly and his
lips puckered in a little octogenarian grin as Hanniash introduced him as Myr Serbastient. “So if you wouldn’t mind entertaining our lady, that would be most appreciated.” Hanniash took the arm of the Advisor and led him off to some seats, and although the room was full of people, I was suddenly alone with the Queen.

“Please, Lord Jaseth, if you wouldn’t mind, perhaps we could find some seating for ourselves. I fear all this dancing has rather worn my feet out.”

I blinked. “Uh, seriously, just Jaseth will do, your majesty.”

She glanced at me sideways as I stumbled a bit over her title and she smiled, her cheeks dimpling slightly. “Jaseth it is then. I understand you are studying at the Academy?”

Holy shit, Hanniash had told her about me? I was so not prepared for this.

“Uh, yes. I’m, um, Nea’thi-Blood, so…”

“So might I be so bold as to enquire whether you follow the Nea’thi custom of using moss?” Hell, she was the Queen, she could be as bold as she liked, but what was I supposed to say? Should I offer her some? Shit!

“Um, yeah, we all do really. Would… Would you like some?”

She smiled politely, but those clear eyes that held mine glittered with fun. “Yes, thank you Jaseth, that would be most kind. I would appreciate some Gold, if you have any.” I nodded and thanked the memory of Queen Lilbecz that I had thought to bring my pipe and pouches of moss. “Good, please, come with me, I believe there’s somewhere we can go this way.”

She led me through the crowd to a small door in the side wall. She murmured to the liveried guard standing beside it, and he opened it for us with a small bow. It led straight through an antechamber that opened onto a small walled garden. Perfectly clipped yew trees stood in each of the corners, and though it was open to the night air, the braziers that burned brightly between them meant that it was not unpleasantly cold. Elegant, wrought-iron chairs clustered around a small circular table. I remembered my manners and pulled one out for her, and she sat gracefully. I sat beside her and pulled out my pouch, setting down my pipe and packing it from the gold bag of moss before sparking it with Hầұeӣ and passing it to her. I have never been
so grateful I could do that as she accepted the pipe, her sculpted eyebrows raised, impressed.

“So, Lord’s heir of Jaelshead, I do hope you approved of the wine on offer here tonight,” she said as she exhaled delicately.

“Uh yes, very much so, thank you.”

She chuckled, a deep, sweet sound. “I am terribly sorry, how boring of me! You must get that all the time.”

“My lady?”

She looked at me straight as she held the pipe out to me and I shivered a little as my fingers brushed hers. What the hell was going on with me?

“It must be the first thing anyone says to you, when they learn you are from Jaelshead.”

“Oh, the wine thing. Yeah, I get that a lot. But I don’t mind it.” Not from her, anyway.

“So you’ve been in Lille almost half a year?” she guessed and I nodded. “Is your Mentor here tonight?”

“Um, Charlie? Yes, he’s here.”

“What’s he like?”

And Queen Thaelique drew me into the conversation. I told her all about Charlie, and when he had come to Jaelshead to collect me. She chuckled as I described my father’s reaction to the Nea’thi.

“Yes, the hereditary Lords of this land do tend to be a bit… traditional. But that’s what makes them so good at what they do.”

I had never heard anyone praise the rigid traditionalism of my father, which I had always found stuffily oppressive, but the Queen’s tacit approval made me feel something like pride for my father. She asked more questions in that low, honeyed voice, gently slurred with a hint of a western accent and undeniably sexy, and I found myself chattering animatedly. I told her about my friends at the Hall, the classes we had and our Hầұeӣ practice. When something piqued her curiosity she would question me about it, and I found myself telling her all about moss, how we had visited Fiona’s hydroponic setup, even pointing out on my pipe why it was made of wood and had a long mouthpiece.