Quintana of Charyn (45 page)

Read Quintana of Charyn Online

Authors: Melina Marchetta

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Action & Adventure, #General

Lirah didn’t respond.

‘Would that stop you?’ she asked.

‘That means she doesn’t want to.’

‘I didn’t say that at all.’ Lirah sighed. ‘I think … I think Quintana believes you’ve forsaken her.’

‘Me?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been waiting for Gargarin to do something. He promised to do something! I’ve been waiting.’

‘Gargarin said he wrote,’ Lirah said.

‘Well, he didn’t. He lied.’

‘No,’ Lirah said firmly, ‘he doesn’t lie to me.’

Froi made a sound of disbelief.

‘Especially about our son!’

Froi was on his feet pacing.

‘Do you think you can get me into the palace without the Provincari’s people knowing?’ he asked

Arjuro chuckled. ‘It’s our favourite sport,’ he said, winking at Lirah. ‘And you’ve picked an easy night.’

An easy night, Froi learnt, was when Perabo was on watch. The keeper of the keys studied him intently at the gatehouse, a
lantern in his hand held up to Froi’s face.

‘You took your time,’ Perabo muttered as he escorted him to the second tower. ‘Head down. Let them think you’re Arjuro.’

It was Fekra who guarded the second level of the second tower. His eyes flashed with surprise to see Froi.

‘We have to be careful of the Provincari’s people,’ Fekra told him. ‘They don’t have a life of their own, so they’re fascinated with everyone else’s.’

Once they reached her chamber, Fekra poked his shoulder with a finger.

‘Don’t wake the boy. It took Dorcas all night to get him to sleep.’

Froi tiptoed into her room. At first he wondered why Gargarin would have kept her in this chamber and not a larger residence. Until he saw the fireplace and then the archway between Quintana’s chamber and the room Froi once shared with Gargarin. He crept to its entrance. He knew what was in there … who was in there. He could hear the steady breathing of the boy, the strange little sounds of sleepy satisfaction.

An arm was instantly around his neck. A dagger to his throat. A savage noise in his ear.
Sagra
. How he missed her.

‘You’ll only make a small hole there,’ he whispered. ‘Not fatal. Inconvenient, really.’

He leant his head back onto her shoulder, exposing his throat to her blade. He felt her arm linger, her cold cheek against his. They stayed there for a time with trembling bodies.

And then he turned to face her. How could he ever have thought this face plain? How could he ever have imagined that the savagery would leave her, just because she birthed a child?

‘You’re a stranger,’ she said coldly, but her body spoke of warmth, pressed so close that the thin fabric of her shift seemed not to exist.

He saw tears in her eyes, anger. Sadness. He searched her face in the light from the godshouse across the gravina, his fingers on her cheeks, mouth.

‘Who do you see?’ she demanded. ‘Am I a stranger in return?’

He took her hand and linked his fingers with hers.

‘Why say that?’ he asked.

‘Because I calculated,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ve become good with your counting. You and I have known each other for fewer days than we haven’t.’

‘Does that matter to you?’ he asked as she clenched their hands together. He sensed his arousal, knew she felt it strongly pressed against her.

‘I can live without you,’ she said. ‘I can live without a man I’ve only known for one hundred and eighty days.’

‘And how have those calculations helped?’ he demanded to know.

She didn’t respond except for a look down her nose at him and a curl of her lip. So much for the angry half-spirits being responsible for the savages within them both. This was pure Quintana.

‘Then step away,’ he taunted. ‘If you can live without me, step away.’

He felt her warm breath on his throat.

‘Because you can’t,’ he said. ‘You think you can, but we’re bound, and not just by the gods or by a curse or even by our son. We are bound by our free will. And you can’t step away, because you are not willing.’

He bent, his mouth close to hers.

‘Step away,’ he whispered. ‘If you step away I’ll learn from you. I’ll find the desire in me to live without you. Much the same as you want to live without me.’

‘I didn’t say I wanted to live without you,’ she said, angry
tears springing in her eyes. ‘Only that I can. I’ve practised. I’ve been very good in that way.’

She stepped away, but not too far and his eyes travelled down her nightdress, transparent in the moonlight. He could see the fullness of her beneath it all. He reached out a tentative hand to her breast, but she flinched and this time he stepped away.

‘It’s full of milk, fool,’ she said. ‘It’s tender. You’ll have to find another place to put your hand.’

‘You tell me where?’ he said, his voice soft. ‘Because it’s not in me to be gentle.’

‘Then you’ll just have to learn, won’t you?’

She swayed towards him, playing with him. Had she turned temptress, this cat of his? And then their mouths were fused, the cloth of her nightdress bunched in his hands, his arm a band around her body, lifting her to him as one tongue danced around the other, until her legs straddled his hips and he dragged the shift over her head, desperate to remove anything that lay between them, his mouth not wanting to leave hers as he fumbled with the drawstring of his trousers. Soon they were skin against skin and he tried to be gentle; chanting it inside his head while saying her name and they rocked into each other with a rhythm played out by the gods who had guided their wretched way.
Where have you been? Where have you been? I’ve lost our song,
he thought he heard her cry inside his heart, until finally Froi felt her shudder, her fingers gripping the place her name was etched across his shoulders.

‘Our bodies aren’t strangers,’ he said, his voice ragged. ‘Our spirits aren’t strangers.’ He held her face in his hands. ‘Tell me what part of me is stranger to you and I’ll destroy that part of me.’

And she wept to hear his words.

Later, as they lay in silence, Quintana kissed each one of his scars from the eight arrows.

‘Do you want to see him?’

He nodded like a hungry man, and they shivered naked in the cool night air as she led him into the other room.

‘We’re not to wake him,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m very strict about rules, you know.’

She lit a candle, and Froi stared into the cot and saw the most amazing creature he had ever seen, the babe facing them, his arms outstretched.

‘What kind of rules?’ he whispered.

‘Well, I don’t wake him just because I want to hold him. I wait until he wakes on his own. And I only give him four or five cuddles a day. Sometimes a few more if he’s fretful. We don’t want to spoil him.’

He smiled.

‘And look,’ she said. She pointed above the little King’s cot where a cut-out piece of parchment hung from the ceiling. Froi’s eyes followed her finger across the ceiling to the wall where the light from the moon made a shape of a rabbit.

And because Froi was overwhelmed with emotion, he buried his head into her shoulder.

‘Are you crying?’ she asked.

He didn’t respond, but his tears were wet against her and he felt her pat his back. ‘He likes me to do this,’ she said, her voice practical. ‘It calms him down if he wakes up with the night terrors.’

They watched Tariq for a long time until he woke and Quintana reached out to pick him up, and Froi’s son suckled as she fed him on her bed.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asked, fascinated.

‘It did to begin with.’

When she was finished and Tariq burped in a way that would have made Arjuro proud, she held him out to Froi. He took his son gently and Quintana placed his hand securely against Tariq’s head.

‘It used to roll all over the place if I didn’t put my hand there. Sometimes I fear it still will,’ she said and he stared in amazement as Tariq stared back at him.

‘Sagra,’ he muttered. ‘You’ve gone and stolen Lirah’s face, you thief.’

The three fell asleep in each other’s arms, and when the sun began to rise, Froi woke and kissed Quintana and Tariq, then dressed quickly. He stepped out into the hallway and found himself face to face with Gargarin.

‘So it is true,’ Gargarin said, furious. ‘I thought the guards were making up stories.’

Froi shoved past him. Six months without a word and that’s all Gargarin could say to him.

Gargarin dragged him back. ‘Where are the Lumaterans?’

‘In Lumatere! Where else?’ Froi said, pulling free and walking away.

‘So they had to have you all to themselves?’ Gargarin demanded. Froi stopped and turned back to face his father. There was no amount of counting that could control him.

‘They have me all to themselves because my real father doesn’t want me! He never did. He regrets not tossing me out –’

‘Don’t!’ Gargarin shook his head with disbelief. ‘Don’t say those words to me.’

‘If you weren’t a cripple, I’d beat you senseless,’ Froi said. ‘What would it have taken for you to acknowledge me? That’s what I wanted. To hear those words from you. And all you could say to me through Scarpo was that in weeks to come, not to make contact with the Charyn palace. “You wait,” Scarpo said. “Trust
me. These are his words.” I know them by heart, Gargarin. And I waited and waited.’

Gargarin gripped Froi’s cloak, pulling him closer, tears of anger in his eyes.

‘I begged them for you because I thought I found a way,’ Gargarin whispered. ‘That despite never being able to claim you as mine or Lirah’s, I found a way of my son getting everything he wanted. Here. In this palace.’

‘You’re lying.’

Gargarin shoved him away.

‘Go back to your greedy dishonourable people who’ll do anything to keep you away from those who love you. And you tell them that Lumatere has made an enemy of me, and they’ll regret that for the rest of their lives.’

 
 
 

P
haedra spent the next few days in the valley being visited by the Monts. Many of them. All expressing disappointment in Lucian.

‘He’s an idiot,’ Constance said to Phaedra. ‘I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again,’ she continued, taking one of the honey cakes Florenza had made. They were sitting inside Jorja and Harker’s cave with Tesadora and anyone who came to put their thoughts into the matter.

‘What’s she saying?’ Cora demanded.

‘Lucian’s an idiot,’ Tesadora translated with alacrity.

Cora sighed. ‘I’m biting my tongue because of a vow I made when he carried our little savage to safety,’ she said.

Phaedra had refused to condemn Lucian’s absence. She had made the choice to follow Quintana to the Citavita. It was Lucian who had been left behind. He owed her nothing.

‘I understood his pride,’ she told anyone who asked. ‘And I’ve changed. I’m a different Phaedra,’ she said with determination. ‘No more weeping. No more begging the gods for what I want and can’t have. We learn to live with our disappointments.
It’s one thing I’ve learnt from our brave Quintana.’

The others, Charynites and Lumateran alike, stared at her disbelievingly.

Goddess. Gods. Anyone listening
, she cried all the night long.
Let him come down the mountain tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and there were more Mont visitors. Jorja borrowed rations from the other valley dwellers because it was rude to have visitors, especially foreigners, and not feed them. They were all forced to move outside the cave where there was more room. Harker built a fire and everyone seemed happy enough discussing Lucian out in the open.

‘Is that Orly and Lotte?’ Sandrine exclaimed as they watched the Mont couple cross the stream, leading a cow.

‘Orly doesn’t come down the mountain,’ Constance said.

But today Orly and Lotte had decided to pay their respects.

‘A gift,’ Orly said to Phaedra. ‘She belongs to Gert and Bert.’

Phaedra embraced them both. She understood the significance and worth of this cow.

‘The milk will come in handy once you all start breeding like normal people,’ Orly said, pulling away from Phaedra, not liking the fuss. ‘I’ll be off now.’

‘Orly! Stay a while,’ Constance argued, rolling her eyes at the awkward ways of her kin.

‘We’re to go now,’ Lotte said woefully. ‘He’s feeling this very strongly, Phaedra. He thought the moment you returned, Lucian would take you back up to the mountain, but the lad’s gone to the palace village and we are fearing the worse, we are. The worse,’ Lotte cried.

‘What is she saying?’ Cora asked. ‘This one talks too much.’

‘That Lucian is still an idiot,’ Tesadora said.

Another day passed. Another set of visits from the Monts. The Charynite valley dwellers also joined the discussion. The men lay bets.

‘Five days,’ one said.

‘Ten,’ another argued. ‘She was the one who left him this time.’

‘But he sent her back the first time, so he’ll feel contrite for that. Seven.’

It was neither five nor ten nor seven days. Kasabian guessed it right.

‘When the lad sorts out what he needs to sort out, he’ll come for you, Phaedra.’

Everyone was on their feet in shock and surprise when Lucian appeared on the third day. Phaedra watched him cross the stream, his eyes taking in the large party staring his way with curiosity. She could see by the set of his shoulders that he was dreading whatever he was about to face.

He greeted them all politely with a nod of his head.

‘I want to speak to Phaedra,’ he said, his eyes firmly on hers. She could read nothing in them. No, there it was. Panic.

‘Alone,’ he said, holding out a hand to her.

No one moved.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Cora said, pulling Phaedra away. ‘Kasabian’s her chaperone in the place of her father.’

Florenza snorted out a laugh. ‘That is so not true –’

But Jorja hushed her daughter.

‘What you have to say to Phaedra you can say in front of everyone, cousin,’ Constance said. She received instant approval from the camp dwellers, who understood exactly what she was saying.

‘I agree,’ Pitts the cobbler said. He came down most days to enjoy Jorja’s hospitality.

Phaedra took pity on Lucian and held out her hand. He looked too nervous for any of this to turn out right and she had an awful feeling that she was going to cry in front of everyone.

‘This is a matter of privacy between two people,’ she said firmly.

There was a chorus of disapproval at the suggestion, but she could feel the tears burning her eyes and she wanted to leave. Lucian was staring down at her, horrified.

‘Enough!’ he shouted at the crowd. ‘You’ve all made her cry.’

‘I’m not crying,’ she cried.

‘You’re the one who made her cry, running off to the palace the moment she arrived,’ Constance said.

Lucian was shaking his head with exasperation.

‘I thought it best that we make our marriage official,’ he blurted out. ‘The first time it was in Alonso and … quite a miserable affair. My cousin insists we make it less miserable and I couldn’t agree more.’

‘Your cousin Jory?’ Phaedra asked, her heart hammering to hear the words.

‘No,’ he said with a sigh and Phaedra could see how uncomfortable he was under everyone’s scrutiny.

‘What cousin?’ Cora asked.

Lucian pointed across the stream. Isaboe of Lumatere stood on the other side of the stream with her child on her hip and her consort by her side, surrounded by the Lumateran Guard.

‘That one.’

The Queen looked annoyed. ‘
Lucian!
’ she called out. ‘What’s happening over there?’

Lucian turned back to Phaedra and the others. ‘The Priestking is coming too. To conduct the ceremony,’ he said.

Lucian waved the royal party over and suddenly Jorja was taking deep breaths from the shock of seeing the Queen of
Lumatere walking towards her cave.

‘I don’t want any fanfare,’ Lucian said gruffly when his cousin reached them. ‘Nor does Phaedra. Is that clear, everyone?’

‘You can’t speak for her,’ Constance said.

‘I don’t want any fanfare,’ Phaedra said, and she caught Lucian’s grateful smile.

‘No, none at all,’ the Queen of Lumatere joined in, accepting Jorja’s invitation to sit down. ‘Although we’ll have to wait for everyone on the mountain to come down. Balconio, too. They’ve all promised to travel up … and down for the wedding. As has August and Abian and their lot and Trevanion and the rest of the Guard. Very small. Compared to ours.’

The Queen turned to her consort.

‘I think the whole kingdom came to that one, didn’t they, my love?’

‘No, some of the Flatland lords boycotted it because they thought you were marrying beneath you,’ Finnikin of Lumatere advised her.

Jorja was looking flustered and Phaedra knew she had little to serve as refreshments.

‘The groom’s family is responsible for the feast,’ Isaboe of Lumatere said, ‘and they’ll be arriving with the food soon.’

Phaedra knew the tradition was the exact opposite in Lumatere, but she didn’t dare challenge the Queen.

‘While we wait for the arrivals, we thought we could take time to speak of matters,’ Finnikin said to Harker, and Phaedra watched everyone’s stillness as the valley dwellers gathered close.

‘To be honest, it’ll be a long time indeed before Charynites live in Lumatere. The wounds cut very deep. But we …’ Finnikin looked at the Queen. ‘My queen and I thought we’d speak to you about ideas for this valley. Perhaps it’s time to build and make
plans … for permanency.’

There was silence from the valley dwellers.

‘It needs a leader, Harker,’ Isaboe said. ‘And you seem to be that man.’

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what Harker and Jorja and the rest of the valley dwellers had journeyed here for, all that time ago, but they were interested in what the Queen and her consort had to say.

‘The way we see it, this valley will have the best that Lumatere and Charyn have to offer,’ the Queen said. ‘It could become a thriving place of progress. A place where both kingdoms meet.’

Jorja suddenly gasped and jumped to her feet. ‘How could we have forgotten? It’s a good thing you’ve visited, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘The Charyn palace has sent a letter. Go get it, Florenza. And then we’ll find you a pretty dress, Phaedra, for the ceremony.’

‘Well, if I may,’ the Queen of Lumatere said, ‘I brought a dress that belonged to my sister, Evestalina. Lucian was her favourite, do you remember that, cousin? She’d let you get away with anything. Even more than our brother Balthazar.’

Phaedra saw the emotion on Lucian’s face. The Queen rarely spoke of the past and everyone present knew the importance of her speaking her family’s names on the Charynite side of the stream.

‘Well, she would have wanted your wife to have it.’ The Queen looked at Phaedra. ‘It shames me that it has taken me so long to acknowledge you, Phaedra of Alonso.’

Phaedra shook her head. ‘It shames me to have spoken to you the way I did in the caves after you put your life at risk for Quintana of Charyn.’

‘Enough said.’ The Queen’s voice was brisk, but filled with emotion.

Florenza returned with the letter, handing it to the Queen. The Princess Jasmina cried to have it.

‘Jasmina likes the pretty seals on the letters,’ the Queen explained, ‘especially those that are red.’ There was much oohing and aahing from the valley dwellers, who were besotted by the little princess.

The Princess Jasmina took a liking to Florenza, gripping her hand tightly, trying to drag her away.

‘Be careful,’ the Queen said firmly. ‘She’ll try to control you.’

‘Has she a gift?’ Florenza asked.

‘Yes,’ the Queen said, her tone dry. ‘The gift for …’

‘… stubbornness,’ Finnikin said.

More people arrived from over the mountain, and on a cold night under a full moon, Phaedra found herself wed to Lucian for the second time. He wore a royal-blue doublet and his trousers tucked into his buskins and Phaedra’s dress was fitted to the waist in soft pink. She wore flowers from
Yata
’s garden in her hair. He was very solemn; she wasn’t. Phaedra couldn’t stop smiling.

While the celebrations continued well into the night, they sat by the stream alone.

‘I think this party will last for days,’ he said. ‘And we’ll never be alone together.’

‘Soon enough,’ she said. ‘I don’t think tonight is just about us.’

He pressed a kiss to her lips.

‘We’ll have to visit my father, Lucian. There’s too much anger between us all and I can’t begin my life with you this way.’

He nodded. ‘Then we’ll visit your father soon,’ he promised.

Suddenly Finnikin was at Lucian’s shoulder.

‘Lucian, we have a problem,’ the Queen’s Consort said,
holding the letter from the Charynite palace in his hand. ‘A big one.’

‘Can it not wait until the morning?’ Lucian asked.

‘Apparently some of our mail has gone astray.’

Lucian laughed, his eyes never leaving Phaedra’s.

‘Finnikin, unless it affects the future of this kingdom, I’m going to have to say no to whatever you’re about to ask me to do,’ her husband said firmly.

Finnikin placed an arm around them both.

‘Cousins, I’m afraid it affects the future of both our kingdoms.’

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