Royal Airs (17 page)

“I’m not coming for the food,” Rafe said.

She smiled. “Of course not. For the companionship.” He looked like he might add something, but when he didn’t, she prompted, “And what was the favor you were going to ask me?”

Now his smile was a little wicked, a little rueful. “I have to think of a new one. The old one was predicated on the belief that I’d probably never see you again.”

That pulled her eyebrows right up to her hairline. “
Really.
Well, now you have to tell me what it was, even if you ask for something else.”

He seemed to think it over a moment, the smile lingering. Then he shrugged and stood up, motioning her to her feet. “Can’t think of anything else I’d want,” he said, and stepped forward and kissed her. His mouth was brief and gentle against hers. She felt his finger under her chin, tipping her face up, but other than that he didn’t touch her.

When he stepped back, he was no longer smiling. “Still want me to drop by for dinner?” he asked in a husky voice.

For a minute, she was that most curious of creatures, an elay woman who couldn’t draw breath. But she managed to get the words out anyway. “Even more.”

That made him laugh again. He scooped up his cards, dropped them in a pocket, and shook his head. “Then I’ll see you on firstday,” he said. “Looking forward to the visit.” And he sauntered back to the infirmary without a backward glance.

In the morning, Rafe Adova was gone.

NINE

E
very time Josetta stepped inside the palace, she had a moment where she succumbed to black depression. Even in the huge, high-ceilinged
kierten
with its white-stone floors and its bubbling fountain, its gracious proportions and its echoing emptiness, she felt trapped. She felt desperate. She felt lonely and afraid.

Until her circumstances had changed, until she was no longer the eldest heir who
had
to live at the palace, Josetta hadn’t realized that there were any other ways to feel.

These days she was still figuring out what she wanted her life to be, but she knew it would be better than it had been five years ago.

Now, at least, she only had to return to court life for special occasions, like today’s events to celebrate Romelle’s visit. Josetta had spent the night at her mother’s, and they had hired a smoker car to carry them up the steep road to the palace. It was situated in a natural plateau halfway up the mountain that stood guard over Chialto, and it was visible from almost any vantage point in the city. It was sublimely picturesque, with the severe peaks behind it and the spectacular waterfall of the Marisi River beside it. Outside it was constructed of warm, golden stone and fluted turrets; inside it was neatly divided into public and private spaces, residential wings, kitchens, large ballrooms, small studies, and, of course, that magnificent
kierten
. It was a beautiful, welcoming place, stocked with every luxury, and Josetta hoped she never had to spend another night there in her life.

“Very nice,” Seterre murmured as they strolled through the
kierten
, sampling the refreshments and assessing the decorations. “I might have brought in more of those small flowering trees—it
will
be Quinnahunti changeday, after all; you have to play up the symbolism. And the colors are a little restrained. Elidon never did have much sense of style. But still. Very nice. And the food is quite good.”

There were probably three hundred other people milling around inside and another hundred outside in the courtyard, or strolling around the nearby lake that had been formed by the falling water. For once even Seterre’s flamboyant costuming did not look out of place, Josetta thought. Every visitor wore clothing worthy of a coronation; the glitter of jewels could have illuminated an underground passage.

“How long do we have to stay?” Josetta asked.

“Well, since we’re attending the dinner after all the public events this afternoon, I’d say quite a long time.”

Josetta groaned.

She brightened up a few minutes later when Zoe picked through the crowd to greet them. “I hate these events,” she announced, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. “I only came today because Taro Frothen accompanied Romelle, and Darien says if the torz prime can haul himself all the way in from the western provinces, the coru prime can drag herself two miles.”

“Josetta has been complaining, too, but I rather like all the extravagance,” Seterre said, waving her hands. “I don’t miss living here, but I do miss the excitement sometimes. Have you seen Romelle?”

Zoe nodded. “Yes, Darien and I were up here last night for a much quieter dinner with Romelle and Taro and Elidon.”

“Talking politics,” Seterre said. She sounded a touch wistful.

“Well,
they
did. I was just bored.”

“How is she?” Seterre asked. “I was always so fond of her, and I haven’t seen her in a quintile, at least. She’s the only one of the other wives I actually miss.”

“I thought she seemed a little harried. Natalie doesn’t travel well and Odelia was getting over some kind of stomach ailment, so I think the journey was taxing. And Romelle is not overfond of court life, either, so she wasn’t entirely happy.”

“So is it really Odelia?” Josetta asked. “Or Mally?”

“I don’t know. Both girls were paraded through the dining room, but neither of them climbed into my lap, and if I can’t touch them—” Zoe shrugged.

“Surely it’s Odelia. She brought Mally last time,” Josetta said. “The last two times.”

“Well, it better be Odelia at least
some
of the time,” Seterre said. “If that girl is going to be queen, she has to learn court rules and court etiquette. Romelle can’t just keep her there on Taro’s farm, learning about nothing but hay and corn.”

Zoe was amused. “She’s not even five yet. Plenty of time to learn.”

Seterre looked a little superior. “A princess is never too young to start preparing herself for her responsibilities, and her mother should know that.”

Zoe didn’t reply; she never bothered to compete with Seterre, who still, after all this time, drew great satisfaction from knowing she had once been the wife of a king. Zoe was a prime, of course, and that was all very well, but Seterre made it clear it was much more impressive to be royalty.

Josetta always suspected it was only
her
existence that convinced Zoe to make any effort with Seterre at all. Zoe was always friendly enough to Seterrre, but Josetta didn’t think her sister really liked her mother. She never asked.

The crowd shifted and parted, and a low murmur rippled from the front of the room to the back. Josetta stood on tiptoe to get a better look at the hallway that led to what used to be the king’s quarters. It was now the wing of the palace where visitors stayed and Romelle took rooms whenever she was in town.

“There they are,” Josetta said. She could just glimpse a knot of people emerging from the hallway and moving slowly through the mass of people. She could make out Elidon, Darien, Romelle, two nursemaids, two little girls, and a handful of guards holding the crowd in check. “It’s going to take
forever
for them to make it around this whole room.”

“Well, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to gawk at the queen and her daughters,” Zoe said. “I think I’ll wait in the courtyard. There’s going to be music. And entertainment, Darien said.”

“Yes! A few of the actors I know are doing comedy sketches—just silly little scenes, you know, to keep people amused. When Darien asked if I was acquainted with anyone who might be suitable, I could hardly pick from all my friends!”

“What fun,” Zoe said. Josetta was sure she was trying to hold back a laugh. “Let’s go see them.”

 • • • 

T
he weather was fine, the actors were entertaining, and there was more food outside, so Zoe and Josetta didn’t go back into the palace for the next two hours. Seterre had elected to stay in the
kierten
, where there was a better chance that someone important might see her, but Corene joined them about twenty minutes after they’d stepped outside.

“I still don’t like Natalie,” she remarked. “She’s just so irritating.”

“I don’t remember
you
being a very pleasant little girl,” Josetta said without heat.

“I didn’t
whine
.”

“You were mean.”

Corene rolled her eyes. “And you were always afraid of everybody.”

“With pretty good reason, as it turned out,” Zoe said.

“Do you like Odelia?” Josetta asked.

Corene wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. She’s not as cute as Celia.”

“Well, nobody’s as cute as my darling little girl,” Zoe said.

“I don’t think Romelle likes her, either,” Corene added.

“What a thing to say!” Josetta exclaimed. “Of course she likes her own
daughter
.”

“Then why doesn’t she ever hold her?” Corene demanded. “Did you ever notice that? It’s always the nursemaid carrying Odelia everywhere. Never Romelle.”

“She has to greet people and shake hands and all that,” Josetta said. “Hard to do if she’s holding a child. Or even just holding her hand.”

“She did it with Natalie,” Corene said positively. “She never put that girl down. Don’t you remember?”

“Well, Natalie cried a lot,” Josetta said. “Romelle was always picking her up to comfort her.”

“I bet Odelia cries, too,” Corene said. “But Romelle doesn’t hold
her
.”

Josetta glanced at Zoe, expecting her to say,
Don’t be ridiculous
. Or
Things were different back then
. Or
Natalie was just a baby, and Odelia’s four years old
. But Zoe was frowning. Zoe was thinking it over.

“Corene has a point,” Zoe said slowly. “Last night at dinner, Odelia dumped a whole plate of food in her lap and started crying. Romelle didn’t even look over. The nurse is the one who took care of her.”

“Then it must be Mally,” Josetta said.

“Even so,” Corene said. “She should
pretend
to like her. I mean, isn’t that the point? So that no one knows if it’s the real heir or not?”

Zoe nodded. “I’ll mention it to Darien and see what he thinks.”

“Better be sure,” Josetta suggested. “Try to find a chance to touch Mally—and make sure she
is
Mally.”

Corene’s voice was hard. “Right. Because who would ever believe a mother wouldn’t like her own daughter?”

 • • • 

T
he long public day was followed by a long private reception—well, “private” in the sense that there were only about fifty people in the room and it was actually possible to find someone to talk to that you knew.

Although not necessarily someone that you liked. For more than a half hour, Josetta was trapped in the type of conversation she hated the most, with two young men from rich and prominent families. They spent the whole time vying with each other to see who could pay her the most extravagant compliment or impress her the most with his wealth and possessions.

“I told my father, ‘I don’t
need
my own elaymotive,’ but I’m glad to have it, of course. He turned over a little property to me last year—it’s small, hardly more than a hunting lodge, but now I can drive out there anytime I want,” said the one she thought was remotely related to Kayle Dochenza.

“Oh, you’ve got a country house?” said the one who might be part Lalindar. “I’ve got a place in the city, not far from the Plaza. Well, you know, my father brought me into the firm last Quinnelay. It seemed the right time to set up my own household.”

You’re wasting your time,
she wanted to tell them.
I don’t care about your cars or your properties or your bags of gold. What have you done with your life? What are you going to do with it? That’s all that matters.

But she smiled politely and offered the appropriate responses and escaped the first chance she could. She spent a much happier half hour talking with the sweela prime, a big, bluff, outgoing man whose boundless energy seemed only slightly dampened by the fact that he was pushing seventy. Nelson Ardelay was her uncle and fond of her for his brother’s sake. Though, really, Nelson had such a warm personality that he could manage to be fond of almost anybody, she thought.

Except, as it turned out, one of the king’s former wives. “Ah, excuse me, my dear, I have to go perform an unpleasant chore,” Nelson said regretfully. “I see Alys headed in Corene’s direction, and I promised the regent I would help keep them apart.”

Josetta quickly scanned the crowd; yes, there was Alys, angling through the throng to where Corene was laughing with Nelson’s sons. Like Corene, like Nelson, they were red-haired, headstrong, and sweela. Ever since Zoe had brought the Ardelays back into favor five years ago, Kurtis and Rhan had been popular at court, and Corene in particular had an affinity for them, despite the fact that they were twice her age.

“Alys will be furious if you stop her from talking to Corene.”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me to make a scene in public,” Nelson said cheerfully. “I think that’s why Darien asked me to be watchdog. I would purely love to drag that woman out of the room, cursing and shrieking.”

It didn’t come to that, though there was certainly a stir when Nelson intercepted Alys and she realized why. Corene realized it, too, Josetta could tell. The girl stood silently with Kurtis and Rhan, observing the low-voiced argument that ended with Alys stalking from the room. Rhan excused himself and went after her; he had always been the Ardelay who had the easiest relationship with Alys. He was the youngest of the brothers, just over thirty, with a reckless charm that made him the perfect man to soothe the feelings of the enraged queen.

Corene watched both of them until they disappeared out the main door. Her face was so fierce Josetta was sure she was fighting back tears. She pushed her way politely through the crowd to Corene’s side, arriving just as Zoe did. They knew better than to try to offer comfort or commiseration, and so did Kurtis. So instead they engaged in only slightly awkward banter until life came back into Corene’s expression.