One Thousand Nights (3 page)

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she laughed and gave an airy wave of one hand. “Oh, well, when the alternative is the Lady Brinda Aldrenne, that makes the choice somewhat easier, does it not?”

I gave a mock shudder. “I suppose that is true.”

Arlyn returned at that point with the tea, and we moved the conversation to more innocuous topics. I had no idea how much of the reason for the ambassadors’ visit had already begun to circulate through the palace, but I saw no reason to give the gossips any additional ammunition. And after an appropriate interval, Ashara excused herself — no doubt to return to Torric and gravely inform him that I was intractable when it came to the Hierarch’s suit, and that the ambassadors had made this long journey for nothing.

I loved her for that…but I also knew my brother would not give up so easily.

W
hat precisely passed
between Ashara and my brother, I did not know, but he did not renew his appeals for me to accept the ambassadors’ proxy proposal. They were, I could tell, getting anxious — sidelong glances sent in my direction when they thought I was not paying attention, overly florid panegyrics to the exotic beauties of their homeland. However, as they were, if nothing else, consummate professionals, they seemed willing to sit through the concerts and balls and lavish supper parties as if attending such events was the only reason they had traveled more than a thousand miles at the tail end of a long, cold winter.

I had sent the letter to Thani, and now I could only wait. Two days’ hard ride for a messenger to reach Marric’s Rest, and most likely three for the return trip. That meant I could expect my betrothed — for I did think of him in such a way, no matter what my brother might say — sometime the day after tomorrow. Although Torric had left the matter alone, his expression was eloquent enough. It spoke of his disappointment in me, that I could not see past the folly of my heart to make the decision that would be in the service of my homeland.

From time to time, I would withdraw the miniature portrait of the Hierarch from its pouch and gaze on his features. Why I did such a thing, I was not sure. Perhaps to somehow apologize for rejecting him? Despite the foreign cast to his features, he did have very kind eyes. They appeared to watch me and understand the reasons for my refusal. And I seemed to note a certain sadness there, which I supposed was to be expected, as he had recently lost his wife. Torric had not said why; I assumed she must have died in childbirth, or perhaps of some illness native to that fierce desert land.

I saw nothing of cruelty or dissipation in that face, and that was why I secretly hoped for him to find a bride among his own people, someone who could make him happy. Something about those calm, dark features made me wish him no further sadness.

Which was foolish, of course. A miniature portrait no larger than a few inches from top to bottom was not precisely a good measure of a man’s appearance, let alone his character. Most likely I had spent so many hours writing down stories and fairytales that I had begun to let my imagination run away with me. I had no doubt that the Hierarch viewed this whole transaction as merely that — a political arrangement, bartering favorable trade agreements and treaties for a high-born bride. It was the way of such things, after all.

Over the past few days, I had more or less managed to avoid being alone with the senior diplomat, Ambassador Sel-Trelazar. The junior ambassador, named Amil Nel-Karisoor, seemed more interested in sampling the delights of the imperial court — including its ladies — than pressing the suit of his monarch. But Sel-Trelazar, I feared, was not one to be so distracted, especially on an evening when my brother had decreed there should be cards, and dice. Gambling was one of the main pastimes of the court, but I had always disliked it. Too many disgraced themselves by falling into debt, all for foolish games. It was expected, though, and my brother, a canny and cautious gambler himself, had little pity for those who found themselves in difficulty.

“Should I outlaw the practice, simply because a few fools have no self-control?” he had snapped at me once when I had mentioned that perhaps more wholesome entertainments might be instituted at court.

And so I was feeling impatient, not merely because I disliked his choice for that evening’s diversion, but also because I was expecting Thani to be here on the morrow, a day that could not come soon enough. In the meantime, I knew I had to continue this charade, until at least such time when he and I could present a united front and declare to everyone, ambassadors included, that we were betrothed, and there would be no match made with the Hierarch.

As that thought passed through my mind, another came to supplant it.

I realized I had not even been told his given name. Perhaps that was something a prospective royal bride did not need to know.

“Your Highness.”

Startling slightly, I realized that Ambassador Sel-Trelazar had approached me as I stood there abstracted, my thoughts far away. And he had fairly caught me, for nearly everyone else was occupied with some game — the men gambling, the ladies watching, some openly encouraging, others laughing and gossiping amongst themselves whilst fortunes were lost and won.

“Ambassador,” I replied, once I had recovered myself.

“My lady, if it is not too much of an imposition, may I have a word in private?”

That sounded dangerous, but there was no way for me to demur without seeming rude. I arranged a gracious smile on my face and said, “But of course, Ambassador. If we step through those doors, we will be in one of the smaller salons. It should be quieter there.”

He pressed his hands together and bowed from the waist — a gesture of obeisance from his homeland, I supposed. I inclined my head in return, extending a hand to indicate the door through which we should pass. Ever polite, he opened it for me, then closed it behind the two of us once we stood in the salon.

It was cold in here, for, expecting this room to be ignored in favor of the gaming in the great hall, the servants had only kept a banked-down fire going, barely more than glowing embers. I saw Sel-Trelazar shiver, and thought of how uncomfortable it must be for him, used as he must be to far hotter climes.

But then he straightened, as if casting aside his discomfort, and said, “My lady, many thanks to you for agreeing to speak with me alone. There are some things I wish to say to you that I would prefer other ears not hear.”

This piqued my curiosity somewhat, and I replied, “It is no problem at all, Ambassador. Please, tell me what is on your mind.”

He smiled, teeth seeming very white in the half-light of the room and against his dark beard. “Truly, Highness, the tales of your beauty and graciousness were not exaggerated.”

Court speech, empty words. He had to have been trained in such things. But there was an odd diffidence to his stance, as if he did not quite know the best way to say what must be said.

“You are very gracious, Ambassador,” I said. “However, I do not think you drew me aside merely to pay me compliments.”

“And perceptive as well,” he said. “Yes, Your Highness, if my only aim was to praise you, then it would be easy to do so in the company of others.” A pause, and he watched me carefully, dark eyes intent on my face. “Your brother has told you why we have come here.”

“Yes.” Again the image of the face in the portrait flashed across my mind, those sad amber eyes.

“I understand your reticence, my lady. It is no small thing to give up everything one has known and travel more than a thousand miles to be with a man one has never met.”

“No, it is not,” I replied, wondering at his openness. Usually a diplomat would not have stated such a thing quite so baldly.

He gave me a knowing nod. “And I wonder, Your Highness — how much of the matter has His Majesty shared with you?”

The question puzzled me. “Not a great deal. That is, he said that the Hierarch’s wife has recently passed away, and so, after waiting a certain interval, he now seeks a new consort.” I hesitated, then added, “While I feel for his loss, I must tell you that I am not free to accept his suit. My understanding with the Duke of Marric’s Rest is known to all in Sirlende.”

“Yes, that.” He glanced away briefly, as if to take in the heavy dark furniture, the portraits and landscapes hanging on the paneled walls. “His Majesty seemed to indicate that it was not yet a formal betrothal.”

“In terms of announcing it publicly, no, but at Midwinter the Duke did ask me to be his wife, and I accepted his suit. Surely that should be straightforward enough.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I understand that. But….”

“But?”

“Perhaps it would be better if we sat down.” He swept a graceful hand toward a pair of velvet-upholstered chairs near enough the fire that we should be more or less comfortable there.

Well, I had agreed to this meeting, and so to refuse to take a seat in his company would be rude. I nodded, then moved toward one of the chairs and sat. As I had thought, it was warmer here, the faint scent of wood smoke somehow comforting, warm and homely, especially when contrasted with the melange of perfumes and colognes and hair rinses worn by the crowd of nobles in the hall next door.

Once I had arranged my skirts and folded my hands on my lap, Sel-Trelazar seated himself as well, his posture straight, hands set squarely on the arms of his chair. “My lady, I fear your brother tried to shield you from the facts of our Hierarch’s consort’s demise to protect you, but I believe you should know the truth of the matter, so that you may make your best decision.”

Curious. I recalled Torric’s strange hesitation when he said,
It appears the Hierarch’s consort has…died…
. Surely if it had been an ordinary death, he would have simply stated the facts. “And what is the truth of the matter, Ambassador?”

He sighed. Or rather, a long breath escaped his lips as his fingers tightened on the arms of his chair. “Hezia Kel-Alisaad, the consort of the Hierarch, was found to be an adulteress. The only penalty for such an act of gross treason is death, of course.”

“Of course,” I murmured, mind reeling. No simple death in childbirth or from a fever, then.

The gods only knew what was in my expression in that moment. Sel-Trelazar went on, the words coming quickly, quite unlike his usual measured, graceful delivery, “It was an arranged marriage, as such things are, but His Most High Majesty truly cared for her, so the betrayal was doubly cruel.”

Ah, well, that explained the unknown sadness I had seen in the painted eyes of the miniature portrait. A good artist, then, to catch that which the Hierarch no doubt wished to conceal. I said slowly, choosing my words with care, “Ambassador, while I truly feel for His Most High Majesty’s loss, I still do not see why the circumstances of her death should change my mind.”

A heavy nod, as if he had expected such a reply. “Your Highness, I know what it is I am asking of you. But I have also seen that you are a great and noble lady, one of a pure heart. Truly, when I came here, I thought only of securing a suitable wife for the Hierarch. But now I believe — I
know
— that to have such a consort such as you would do much to heal the hurt he has suffered.”

“I fear your confidence in me may be rather misplaced,” I replied lightly, but something in his words had evoked an odd ache somewhere within my breast. The stakes for refusing this offer might be higher than I had imagined.

For the first time he smiled. “I do not think so, my lady. I have had the very great honor of spending many years in His Most High Majesty’s service, from the time he ascended to the throne when he himself was little more than a boy, and — may God forgive my impertinence — I believe I know something of his nature. You are wise and beautiful and honorable. Surely you could never have even contemplated giving in to your baser desires the way Hezia did.”

The tone of his voice — and the informal manner in which he said her name, with no honorific — told me all I needed to know of his opinion regarding the late consort. Not that I could entirely blame him, for certainly adultery on its own was a terrible enough transgression, but adultery when your spouse also happened to be the ruler of your land was immeasurably worse. For of course the royal lineage was traced through the male line, and if a child was of uncertain parentage, then all would be thrown into chaos. It was, as the ambassador had said, the very worst kind of treason.

Perhaps it should have been within me to find some sympathy for this unknown Hezia, to wonder at a love so fierce that she was willing to risk death for it. However, I found I could not, for my mother, who had made no secret of her dislike for my father, nonetheless remained faithful until the day he died. Surely she had more reason than most to stray, as he certainly did not do anything much to hide his numerous affairs. But she hadn’t, had lived in such a way that it was impossible to think she would engage in such an activity.

Not that I mean to imply that I admired her, because her own disappointment in being denied the match of her heart in order to marry the Emperor had led her to develop the most bitter of tongues, a tongue she did not scruple to guard, even with her own children. Or perhaps especially with her own children.

“No,” I said at last. “I know nothing of the late consort’s character or family, but I was raised so that such a thing would be unthinkable to me.” As Sel-Trelazar began to give me an approving nod, I added quickly, “That is not to say I am in agreement that I would be the best match for your Hierarch. My heart is given to another. Surely the last thing you want is to have him married to yet another woman who is in love with someone else.”

“It is the last thing I want, Your Highness, and I thank you for being frank with me.”

My thoughts from earlier in the day, when I had gazed upon the Hierarch’s portrait, rose in my mind once again. “May I ask something, Ambassador?”

“Anything, most noble lady.”

“What is the Hierarch’s given name? I have not yet heard it spoken.”

A smile, and he replied, “It is Beshalim Kel-Alisaad. Those who have been granted the right to address him familiarly call him Besh.”

I nodded. It was simple, easy to recall. And I thought I liked how it sounded as I repeated it in my mind.
Besh
. “Thank you, Ambassador. It helps, I think, to know something of him beyond his title.”

My reply seemed to give Sel-Trelazar some hope, and I worried that in asking for the Hierarch’s name, I had allowed the ambassador to think that my mind was not yet completely settled on the subject. I opened my mouth to tell him it was not so, but he forestalled me by saying, his steepled his fingers under his bearded chin, “It is not for me to speak of where you have chosen to give your heart. All I can say is that His Most High Majesty is a man of a generous nature, and a man of learning and discernment. I have heard that you, too, my lady, are a scholar of some renown. I think you would find that you have more in common with the Hierarch than you might imagine. Truly — and I have traveled the world, and seen many wondrous things and met many people — I cannot think of anyone better suited to be his consort than your noble self. Would that circumstances had been different, and you had been free to become his wife long ago.”