Royal Airs (16 page)

Foley bowed them out of the
kierten
and then disappeared—to the kitchen, Josetta supposed, or to the room that Seterre maintained here for his private use. It was off an odd little hallway that fell between the servants’ quarters and the guest chambers, but a considerable distance from the rooms set aside for Seterre and Josetta. Like everyone else, Seterre wasn’t exactly sure of Foley’s place in her daughter’s life.

Though that didn’t keep her from trying to find out. In fact, he was her first topic of conversation once they were settled in a small, cheerful dining room that was relatively free of clutter. Food had been laid out and the servants had already withdrawn. Time for mother and daughter to share secrets.

“So?” Seterre inquired, arching her delicate brows over her blue eyes. “How’s the situation between you and Foley these days?”

Josetta served herself a portion of some poultry dish covered in thick sauce. “Mother, you know you would be scandalized to hear I’d become involved with Foley.”

Seterre made an equivocating motion with her head and spread her hands wide. She wore rings on every finger. “It might not be what I would want for you
permanently
, but if you took him for a lover one summer? Or even two? I don’t see that it would do you any harm. Once you’re married, you know, life can be very dull. You should take the chance to enjoy yourself while you’re still unencumbered.”

You took the chance to enjoy youself while
you
were married,
Josetta was tempted to say, but she knew how her mother would respond to that.
I was fulfilling my duty to give the king an heir! I did not sleep with Navarr Ardelay merely for the pleasure of it!
Maybe it was even true. Though from everything Josetta knew about Navarr Ardelay, Seterre probably
had
enjoyed their nights together.

“No, nothing has changed between us,” Josetta said, spooning some spiced berries onto her plate.

“It’s strange. He’s so devoted to you. And yet—” Seterre took a sip of fruited water. “Do you think he just prefers the company of men?”

“Maybe. Though he was with us when Corene and I were traveling with Jaker and Barlow, and
they’re
a couple, and Foley didn’t seem particularly interested in
them
.”

“Maybe he’s been damaged somehow. You know. So he can’t quite function.”

Josetta strangled a laugh. “Mother, I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation.”

“Maybe you just need to encourage him,” Seterre said. “You’re a princess. He’s a guard. He doesn’t have the nerve to speak his love.”

Josetta toyed with her food. She had done just that two summers ago. Found a moment when she was alone with Foley and confronted him—practically offered herself to him, or so it had seemed at the time.
I’m not a princess anymore. I can choose who I want to be with. I trust you more than any man I know. If you want me, I will love you in return.
He had been almost appalled at the declaration—not, it seemed, by her boldness, but by the very notion that such a union could be possible.
I could not think of you in that way,
he had answered.
It would be like wanting a statue in the Plaza.

Josetta had been depressed about it for a quintile. Like her mother, she had had trouble finding her way once Vernon was dead and everything was changed. She had been lonely, unsure of her place, wanting simply to make a choice, any choice, and move forward with her life. She had thought that taking a husband and finding a house and producing babies would at least give her some direction.

Later, though, she was glad that Foley had turned her down, and surprised that there had been oddly little awkwardness between them because of it. Her life still might hold a husband and children someday—she hoped it did—but she had stumbled on a different kind of passion, and it was enough to sustain her for a good long while.

And she might meet more suitable men than Foley someday. Not, of course, that any of them had come her way in the past nineday or so . . .

“I don’t plan to encourage him,” she answered at last. “I don’t think Foley is the right man for me.”

“Well, don’t let Darien Serlast marry you off to someone
he
thinks is right for you. You know he’s a schemer. I worry about how much influence he has over you.”

Josetta smiled. “I think he would
like
to have influence over me.”

That made Seterre laugh. “Oh, good! Ignore him as much as possible! The man is entirely too arrogant.”

“He had an argument with Alys the other day, did you hear?”

Seterre was delighted. “Yes! You know my cook is friends with Zoe’s maid, and she must have
run
through the streets to bring the news.
Everybody
knows. But is it true she’s pregnant?”

“That’s what one of the blind sisters told Corene. How did
you
hear?”

Seterre looked mysterious. “I have my sources.”

“Do you suppose it was a mistake?”

“Alys doesn’t make mistakes.”

“But why would she want another baby?”

“She thinks it will be an asset somehow. She can marry it off to some heir or heiress of the Five Families, I don’t know. Use it as a pawn in some dark scheme.”

“What a repellent woman she is.”

“I know,” Seterre said cordially. “Some days when I’m feeling a little tired or unhappy, I think, ‘At least I’m not living at court anymore. At least I don’t have to see Alys every day.’ Cheers me right up. I don’t mind not seeing Elidon every day, either,” she added.

“I like Elidon,” Josetta said. “Although she’s very—” It was hard to find a single word that summed up the intelligent, strong-willed, and confident queen. “Sure of herself,” she ended lamely.

“I know! Can you believe she’s elay? You’d think she was all hunti, because she can be so
inflexible
.”

Josetta grinned, but said, “I think what makes her elay is her sense of vision. Elidon sees things—the whole world, all at once—in ways most of the rest of us never manage. She’s not as
flighty
as elay people can be, but she thinks on a different plane.”

Seterre sniffed and said, “Well, I’m just as glad to be living in a place where Elidon’s
vision
doesn’t have any bearing on my daily life.”

“You do seem happier these days,” Josetta agreed. “You seem like you’ve found the right place for yourself. Something all of us need to do.”

“I hope your place isn’t that dreadful little shelter in the city.”

“I think it is, though. That’s where
I’m
happy.”

“But, darling—you know I don’t like to criticize—but you can’t spend your whole life there. You have to be part of society some of the time.”

“I already promised Darien I’d come to court when Romelle visits.”

“Yes, but more than that. If you’re not going to run off with Foley, then you need to be thinking about other men. Wealthy men. Men from the Five Families.”

“I’m only twenty. I don’t have to marry for years and years.”

“You don’t even
have
to marry! But you will certainly want—companionship—and you’re not going to find it down in the slums.”

Josetta couldn’t help envisioning Rafe Adova’s smiling, roguish face. The man with a light heart, a curious mind, and the most extraordinary blessings. “Who knows?” she said. “Maybe I will.”

 • • • 

J
osetta stayed for the play, which her mother loved but Josetta found incomprehensible, then spent the night because Seterre seemed so woebegone at the thought that she wouldn’t. But in the morning she couldn’t be persuaded to linger past breakfast.

“There’s too much work to do back at the shelter,” she said firmly.
And too many interesting people to see. Unless they’ve already moved on.

Rafe Adova was still there when she returned, though she had been right to worry he might be gone. He had clearly grown well enough to be restless. Her day was so chaotic she didn’t have a chance to speak to him until after dinnertime, when he announced he planned to return to his own apartment above the bar where they’d met.

“I can feed myself, bathe myself, and tend to my own dressings,” he informed her. It was late in the evening and everyone else had gone upstairs except for Caze and Sorbin, who were making one last patrol around the block. “Callie’s given me some salve to take with me. I don’t need to be cared for anymore—I’m just taking up space. So I’m leaving in the morning.”

“We have plenty of beds. There’s only one other person in the infirmary—as you must know, since you heard him screaming when we tried to patch him up! You don’t have to leave if you’re feeling at all unsteady.”

It seemed his hands could never be idle. He shuffled his deck three times, four times, before looking up at her with a half-smile. “I’m not sure it’s the wounds making me feel unsteady,” he said.

The words hung between them as they watched each other long enough for Josetta to experience a little dizziness of her own. Then he looked down at his hands again.

“I’ve been away from my familiar life too long. I’ve lost the usual rhythm of my days,” he went on. “I need to settle back in. Think things through.”

Josetta nodded, showing a face of calm. “Of course. But I hope you’ll come see us from time to time. Just to visit. Or to pull another blessing.”

He shuffled the cards again. “I’d be glad to. If it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

“You’d be welcome.”

“I could do something to earn a meal or two,” he suggested. “Cook or clean. I don’t mind scrubbing the floors.”

“There’s always work to do here.”

“And if Steff comes to the city, I might bring him by.”

It took her a moment to remember who Steff was. The half brother with the hardworking torz father. “I’d be happy to meet him.”

“And if you need me—I mean, I can’t imagine you would, but—you know where I keep my quarters. You can always find me there.”

It was worse than the conversation with Foley two years ago. Each of them was breathless and nervous; each of them was trying to say something without saying it. Or maybe that made it better. At least this time she wasn’t the only one struggling to understand an emotion.

“Deal a card,” she said suddenly. “One to me, one to you.”

His hands stilled completely. “Why?”

She smiled. “Whoever gets the high card gets to ask the other one a favor.”

His eyes narrowed, half in amusement, half in speculation. “What kind of favor?”

She kept her face prim. “I think we can both be trusted not to request anything too outrageous.”

Now the amusement deepened. She thought he might want to say
I’m not sure I can
. But he merely flicked one card to each of them. “Do you know what favor you have in mind?” he asked.

“Yes. Do you?”

He didn’t answer, merely turned his card faceup. Four of roses. Josetta displayed her own card and started laughing. Four of skulls.

“We seem to have the oddest luck with runes and portents,” she said.

“Two cards this time. High card or trump takes the hand.”

Rafe turned up the five of horseshoes and the five of fish, while Josetta held the same cards in roses and flutes. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she accused. “Just to extend the game.”

“I’m not,” he protested. He squared the deck and set it between them on the table. “Let’s just keep drawing cards one at a time until someone wins.”

She cut the deck first and reordered it. “Just to be sure,” she said, and he laughed. The first thing she pulled from the stack was a wildcard. “Oh, I think I’ve got you!” she crowed—but he turned over a wildcard of his own.

“I
know
you did something to the deck,” she said.

“I wish I knew how to arrange it
this
well,” he answered. “I’d never lose another game.”

They drew, and drew again, matched over and over until only about a third of the deck was left. They hadn’t drawn a single trump. “This one will do it,” Rafe said under his breath as Josetta reached out a hand.

She gave him an inquiring look. “How do you know? I’ve started to believe we’ll be tied to the very end.”

“All that’s left are the single cards that don’t have a pair because we’ve already drawn all the matches—the five of skulls, the two of roses and so on. And the trumps. And one wildcard.”

“Really? You remember that?”

He shrugged. “I always remember every card that’s played in any game. So pick yours.”

She turned up the high trump. “Ha! I win!”

But he had the last remaining wildcard. “I match you.”

Laughing, she folded her hands before her on the table. “Perhaps neither of us is supposed to win. Or we both are.”

“What do you mean?”

“We each get to ask the other one a favor. Or perhaps it’s not a favor, it’s a gift.”

He considered that. “I admit I’m curious what you have in mind.”

“Then it’s a deal?”

He nodded.

She tried to speak nonchalantly, though she felt she was being bold as a harlot. “Come back once every nineday. Have dinner with us. I’m afraid if you just say, ‘Sure, I’ll stop by sometime,’ you really won’t. But if you promise to eat with us every firstday, for instance, you’ll feel more obligated.”

His eyes narrowed; he watched her again with a look that was half speculation and half surprise. Trying to decide how much to read into her offer, no doubt. Then he smiled. “You’re right. I probably would have convinced myself that you were only being polite when you told me to stay in touch.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“You’ll get tired of me if I’m here that often,” he said.

“Maybe,” she said. “If I promise to
tell
you when I get tired of you, will you agree to a schedule?”

Now he laughed. “You’re different from other girls,” he said.

“I know.”

“But I’d like to know that I’m going to see you again,” he added. “Firstday it is.”

Josetta tried not to show just how delighted she was by his response. “Excellent! We always have our best meals on firstday—still nothing fancy, but Callie makes a special effort.”