Royal Airs (25 page)

He shook his head. “Siacett is kept sequestered on an estate far from the royal city. We cannot be destroyed by the same catastrophe, whether it is illness or fire or some other hazard.”

Sequestered
didn’t sound like very much fun, Josetta thought. “So you never get to see her?” she asked. “That’s a little sad. Don’t you miss her?”

He gave her a superior smile. “Hardly. She would do anything in her power to see me dead.”

“
What?
Why?”

“Because she wants to be queen, of course,” he said. “We are all bred to be very ambitious—it is what makes us so powerful and so dangerous. She has spies all over the kingdom. She undoubtedly knows that I am out of the country even now, and she is taking the chance to amass support. There are already those who would back her in a bid for the throne—her husband’s family, mostly, and their allies.”

“She is married, then?”

“Yes, and has three children.”

“And that’s how all of them live? On some isolated estate, under guard, because you’re afraid she might try to overthrow you someday? That seems like a wretched life.”

“Oh, once I marry and have children, she and her family will be put to death,” he said.

Josetta could only stare at him in mute horror.

“I can see you find our customs shocking, but I assure you our system is very sensible,” Ghyaneth went on. “Whoever is on the throne marries and produces several children. He usually has a living brother or sister, and that sibling also marries and produces children. As you say, a nation becomes uneasy when there is any doubt about the succession, and we want there to be plenty of heirs when they are young, because childhood is a chancy time.”

“It seems like adulthood is a chancy time in Berringey as well,” Josetta managed.

He permitted himself another of his superior smiles. “Once the children reach an age where they seem healthy, the king or queen picks the two likeliest, and the rest are put to death,” Ghyaneth continued. “At this time, if there are any other living heirs—siblings or cousins—they are expected to take their own lives as a gesture of fealty to the crown.”

Josetta was staring at him. “And they
do
this? Willingly?”

Ghyaneth seemed amazed by her stupefaction. “Of course they do. Their first loyalty is to the throne. They want to see Berringey strong, and it cannot be strong if there is constant war over who should rule the country.”

“But then—you said—” Josetta rubbed her index finger across her forehead. It was too difficult to comprehend. “Your cousin is plotting against you. It doesn’t sound like she is entirely committed to the idea of sacrificing herself.”

Ghyaneth’s face darkened. “No. She is greedy and ambitious, and she cares only for herself and her glory, not the good of Berringey.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t want to die,” Josetta suggested. “Have you told her you’ll let her live if she’ll just emigrate to Malinqua or Soeche-Tas?”

“She couldn’t be trusted,” he replied. “She would agree to exile, and then continue plotting to raise armies against me. Siacett is the perfect illustration of why it is dangerous for any kingdom to produce too many heirs. She is willing to tear Berringey in two just to see herself on the throne.”

Josetta took a deep breath. “Well. I have to admit my sympathies are with Siacett, just a little. But now
I’m
confused about
your
bloodlines. If everyone’s killed off when they’re just children, how can you have a cousin? Shouldn’t the only other heir be your brother or sister? Shouldn’t your aunt or uncle and all
their
children have been put to death once you and your siblings were born?”

“Yes, and they would have been, but my father was quite old before he sired me, and he never produced any other children,” Ghyaneth said. “Years before I was born, my grandmother insisted that my aunt and uncle both marry and have children, to make sure of the succession.”

“Aunt
and
uncle? There were three competing heirs? I’m shocked.”

“My aunt and uncle were twins. My grandmother couldn’t choose between them,” Ghyaneth said, sneering at her weakness. “But all of them are dead now, except for Siacett and me. And her family, of course.”

“I have to say, I’m a little surprised Siacett could find someone willing to marry her,” Josetta observed. “If he thought he
and
his children would all die once you started producing heirs.”

“He gambled that he might win it all instead of losing everything,” Ghyaneth explained. “If I drown at sea or die in some accident—if I fail to produce children of my own—my cousin will take the throne and he will sit beside her. An ambitious man would be willing to take that risk.”

“I’m not sure I would,” Josetta said.

He looked surprised. “Really? I would. If Siacett had been the crown princess and her sister her heir, I would have been willing to marry her sister. Yes, and I would have gladly taken my own life if it turned out Siacett was fertile and able to bear the next generation of rulers.”

“How unfortunate, then, that positions were not reversed,” she murmured.

He looked at her suspiciously, thinking he had been insulted again, but not sure how. Josetta wasted a moment hoping Darien or even Mirti would lean in and engage the prince in conversation, but they both seemed pleased to allow her to manage the bulk of the entertaining, so she cast about for other topics.

“Let’s talk about something else!” she said, trying for a light tone. “You mentioned that you had traveled to eighteen other countries. Tell me about them. Which ones did you like best and why?”

“I like Berringey best, of course.”

“Of course you do,” she replied, thinking:
You are the most tedious man!
“But certainly you must have found something to appreciate in the other places you visited. The food? The fashions? The landscape?”

“Cozique was quite striking, at least along the coastline,” Ghyaneth answered, almost unwillingly. “But the food was terrible.”

One of the first comments he had made to her when they met was that the countryside of Welce was dull; perhaps he was particularly sensitive to the beauty of his surroundings. “I’ve heard that Malinqua is a lovely place, especially in the spring.”

His handsome face chilled with anger. “We do not visit Malinqua, or even speak of it,” he said darkly.

Oh, she’d stumbled into that one! “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “As I told you, I’ve done so little travel that I don’t know what—”

“We
used
to trade with them,” he burst out. “Until their ambassadors proved to be completely untrustworthy. Utterly without honor.”

She was torn between the desire to change the subject and the hope of learning something useful. Darien had said he expected to entertain Malinquese visitors within the quintile; it would be good to know exactly how their dishonor manifested itself. “I’m horrified,” she exclaimed, hoping she didn’t overdo it, though Ghyaneth seemed immune to melodrama. “What did they do?”

He folded his lips and shook his head. “My father wouldn’t wish me to speak about it,” he said at last.

Too bad. Josetta sipped from her glass of fruited water and tried a smile. “Then let’s talk of more pleasant things,” she said. “Tell me what you do to entertain yourself in Berringey.”

 • • • 

T
he dinner finally ended, though there had been moments when Josetta had thought it might not. She escaped home with her mother to gossip for a couple of hours before going to bed. Unfortunately, there was a full slate of events lined up for the next day, but she thought it might not be so bad if she could manage to avoid any more one-on-one conversations with the sulky prince.

Ghyaneth had expressed a desire to tour Chialto, so Darien had arranged for a fleet of elaymotives to circle the Cinque and pause at some of the more interesting sights. Because they were to be in such public places, Ghyaneth insisted on being accompanied by twenty of his guards, so they formed quite a cavalcade as they made a slow circuit around the city. They also created a stir at the Plaza of Men when the prince decided to patronize a few of the booths, and his guards closed around him in a tight phalanx. Even so, he managed to visit some of the more famous attractions. He even wrote his name on a document at the booth of promises, though he refused to tell anyone what vow he had committed to paper. But he seemed pleased with himself when he emerged and climbed back into his
elaymotive
.

Josetta had managed to avoid being in the lead conveyance with Darien, Zoe, Ghyaneth and two of his advisors, which meant the trip was much less stressful than dinner had been, but also less interesting. She found herself staring out of the window a great deal and playing idly with the fish charms on the bracelet Rafe had given her. She probably should have been attempting conversation with Romelle, her carriage-mate, but the queen seemed just as happy to be left to her own thoughts.

A traffic snarl stopped them for nearly twenty minutes when they were traversing the southernmost leg of the Cinque, and Josetta amused herself by wondering how Darien was explaining away the ramshackle buildings and desolate alleys visible even this close to the road. Then she spent time wondering what Rafe Adova might be doing at this exact moment. Was he still sleeping at this early afternoon hour? Was he awake and carrying out the mundane tasks of ordinary life, mending clothes or laying in groceries? Or was he already sitting downstairs in Samson’s tavern, shuffling his cards and waiting for the first customer to arrive? The bar wasn’t that far away. She could slip from the carriage and walk there within fifteen minutes. It was possible no one would even notice she was gone.

Almost as soon as she had the thought, the smoker car jolted to life again and the caravan moved forward. Josetta sighed and leaned back against the cushions. It was starting to feel like a very long day.

 • • • 

Q
uinnahunti changeday was even longer, but at least it was more fun. The royal festivities were held at the palace, of course, where both the courtyard and the
kierten
had been transformed with banners, ribbons, flowers, colored lanterns, and other decorations. In fact, the courtyard seemed a miniature replica of the Plaza of Women because it had been filled overnight with dozens of merchant booths selling clothes and jewelry and other trinkets; dancers and jugglers moved through the crowd, offering entertainments. There was even a small stage that had been erected right beside the lake, and a dozen benches set up before it. Seterre told anyone who would listen that she had personally selected the actors who performed a series of short comedies to the delight of the crowd.

The nighttime light show was the best part of Quinnahunti changeday, though, and everyone happily gathered outside to watch the wild colors play over the sturdy canvas of the palace’s pale stone walls. The light show had been a tradition for six or seven years now, ever since Kayle Dochenza had invented a way to mix pigments into some kind of gaseous medium. Josetta knew Kayle considered it the most minor of his inventions, but she had to admit that it might be her favorite. Bright colors wreaking glorious havoc against the dour night—naturally such a contrast would appeal to her elay soul.

“There’s another dinner tomorrow,” Darien reminded her once the display was over and they were all bundling themselves back into carriages or heading inside, if they happened to be staying at the palace overnight. “A smaller group this time—we won’t even use the main dining hall. I’d like you to come a little early to talk to Ghyaneth.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I have a commitment tomorrow night.”

Darien looked at her as if she had just spoken in Soechin and he’d never learned a word of the language. “Then break it,” he said. “It couldn’t be more important than dinner with a visiting head of state.”

She just laughed at him. “It is to me.”

THIRTEEN

T
here had been any number of small crises at the shelter while Josetta had been trying to charm Ghyaneth Werbane Kolavar. Callie had handled most of them with her usual brisk efficiency, but there was a banking tangle that Josetta had to straighten out personally and a handful of thank-you notes she had to write to a few particularly generous donors. Then there were just the ordinary, everyday tasks that always piled up and never got done because there simply weren’t enough hands. So Josetta spent several hours restocking shelves in the main room, changing sheets in the infirmary, putting away laundry that someone else had washed and folded, and working beside Callie in the kitchen to assemble a particularly fine dinner.

Because it was firstday. And dinner on firstday was special.

 • • • 

A
s he had last time, Rafe Adova showed up early and stayed late. He spent the first two hours meekly doing Callie’s bidding, carrying pots and platters to and from the dining room, helping to serve the
masses
of people who must have come to the city for changeday and had not yet mustered the energy to head back to their homes. Rafe was more cheerful about the extra work than the rest of them, Josetta thought. She herself was tired and irritable, and the imperturbable Callie actually snapped at a little girl who asked for another piece of bread. But Rafe worked without pause and without complaint all through the long evening.

Eventually every person had been fed, every pan had been washed, and the workers could take the time to sit, relax, and devour their own meals. Josetta had to admire Rafe’s casual canniness: He waited until the others had clustered together at one of the tables before carrying his own food to a different one. When Josetta joined him a moment later, they finally had an opportunity to be alone. Well, alone in a large room with a half dozen people near enough to eavesdrop, if they were so inclined. But it still felt like privacy.

“If you ever decide to give up gambling, you can come work for me here,” Josetta told Rafe as they finished eating. “I don’t pay a lot, but you could live in the dorm, too. Think of all the money you’d save on rent.”