Royal Airs (56 page)

“We have been a monarchy too long to throw it aside because one generation is problematic,” Mirti said gravely.

“Kayle’s right. We discussed all this,” Zoe said impatiently. “We’ve managed just fine for the past seven years, when we didn’t have a king at all.”

“That’s just it. We did,” Nelson said. “We just didn’t realize it.”

“But we
didn’t
have a king,” Kayle protested. “It was Darien acting on Vernon’s behalf and—
oh
. Darien! Oh, of course, I see that now. You want to name him king.” He nodded.

It was the first time Josetta had ever seen Darien taken wholly by surprise. “You
what
? Nelson, what nonsense is this?”

“It’s hardly nonsense,” the sweela prime said. He was grinning widely. “You were the de facto ruler during the last two years of Vernon’s life and the first five years of Odelia’s. I’ll tell you, watching you negotiate with Filomara and Ghyaneth gave me a whole new appreciation for your intelligence. Are you sure you aren’t part sweela?”

“Hunti through and through,” Darien snapped. “And this is preposterous.”

“I agree with Nelson,” Mirti said. “You possess every skill a king needs and you’ve had years of experience on the job. You’ve treated with foreign nations, kept civil order, helped the economy flourish—and produced an heir.”

At this point in the conversation, Zoe started laughing uncontrollably. Josetta felt a smile curve her own lips; oh, this would be so much better than being named queen herself!

Darien still appeared to be shocked. “You cannot just—pick a man at random and stick him on the throne,” he said. “What about all the posturing of the past nineday? Vernon’s heritage and all that! How will you get around the requirements of blood?”

“Well, all you really have to do is persuade the primes to ratify you, and that should be easy enough,” Mirti retorted. “You come from one of the Five Families and your wife comes from two of them, so your daughter has the blood of
three
primes running in her veins. If we can convince Kayle and Taro—”

“I’m convinced!” Kayle exclaimed. “If that means we’re done with conversations about the crown, I’m happy to name
anybody
king.”

“That’s hardly civic minded,” Darien retorted.

“Taro might be harder to win over, though,” Nelson said thoughtfully.

Zoe had dropped her head to her hands, but now she looked up, showing them a face suffused with merriment. “Oh, surely we can find a way to prove Frothen blood runs in Darien’s veins!” she cried. “I’m convinced I’ve noticed it in the past. I just wasn’t paying attention.”

Darien smiled at her reluctantly. “Maybe if we go back far enough on the genealogy charts—”

“
All
the Five Families are related,” Nelson said firmly. “Somewhere there will be a convenient bloodline.”

“Or marry Celia off to someone who’s related to both the Dochenzas and the Frothens,” Josetta suggested. “And
her
son or daughter will be related to all the primes.”

“Excellent plan!” Nelson exclaimed, beaming at her. “Kayle, you and Taro get some heirs together and start making babies.”

“I was joking,” Josetta said. “Celia might want to find her own husband.”

“It doesn’t matter who Celia wants to marry because she’s not going to be heir to the throne,” Darien said firmly.

“Oh, I think she will,” Nelson said. “There might be a few details to clear up—”

“A
few
!” Zoe wailed, still laughing. “Here’s one you haven’t thought of! Whoever marries the king or queen gives up all their own property rights. But I’m prime and I can’t give up
my
property. And if my daughter is queen, she can’t be prime after me—”

“Well, you can have another child, can’t you?” Kayle said. “Or three or five or eight.”

“Yes, of course, but the land—”

“We will have to figure out how to account for the property,” Mirti admitted. “The laws were written to prevent the crown from gathering too much power—to keep a king from marrying all the primes, for instance, and controlling the elements as well as the throne. But we can come up with some kind of amendment. Perhaps we simply don’t allow Zoe to be named queen. These are
our
laws, after all. They are here to serve our purposes.”

“But—” Zoe started.

“As Nelson said, there will be many details to take care of,” Mirti interrupted. “But the solution itself feels right. It feels solid. I vote in favor of Darien Serlast as king.”

“As do I,” Nelson said immediately. “Kayle?”

“I already said I was in favor of it! Yes, yes, I say yes! But what about Zoe?”

Everyone in the room looked at Zoe, who was still trying to compose herself. Josetta saw her pat her cheeks and bite her lips before she reached over to take Darien’s hand.

“The day I met you, you invited me to come with you to Chialto to marry the king,” she said, keeping her voice reasonably steady. She was still smiling, but the expression had grown tender instead of hysterical. “I knew fairly quickly that I didn’t want to marry Vernon—but I
did
want to marry you. As coru prime, I agree with the others that you would make a splendid king. I vote in favor of Darien Serlast, too.”

 • • • 

A
fter the day’s exhausting events, no one was particularly interested in one last lavish state dinner, but no one wanted to send Filomara off without a formal farewell. So they compromised with a modest buffet in one of Kayle’s smaller dining rooms, and anyone who wanted a chance to say goodbye to the Malinqua contingent had a chance to do so.

Rafe sent his regrets, but Steff was there. He stuck close to his grandmother all night and seemed to be listening carefully whenever Darien or one of the primes stopped to talk to her. Josetta thought he might be practicing to be a prince, but he seemed to be enjoying the apprenticeship. It took her a moment to identify what seemed different about him, but eventually she realized that he was dressed in Malinqua clothing, more fitted and formal than the flowing tunics and trousers the Welchins wore. It made him seem taller and older somehow.

“I’ll miss Steff, won’t you?” Josetta said to Corene as the two of them sat together at the end of the table and finished their meals.

Corene lifted her eyes and studied the young man across the room. “I’m not sure I know him well enough to miss him.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I thought you liked him.”

Corene shrugged. “I’d miss
Rafe
. I know him better.”

“I wonder how Steff feels knowing that he might never see his brother or his father again.”

“Well, of
course
he can see them,” Corene said irritably. “He just has to come back here for visits. And Bors can sail out to Malinqua anytime he wants. It’s Steff’s own fault if he gets so caught up in his new life that he forgets his old one.”

Corene seemed determined to be more than ordinarily contrary, which made Josetta think her first guess was right. Corene liked Steff more than she wanted to admit. Josetta changed the subject. “Have you talked to your father since the meeting with the primes? Has he gotten over the shock of being nominated king?”

Corene’s expression grew even more remote, and Josetta wondered what was wrong now. “Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll get used to the idea quickly enough. It only makes sense, since, of course, he’ll make an excellent king.”

“And he’s already been doing the job for seven years.”

“And he’s already produced
one heir
,” Corene said with heavy emphasis.

Which was when Josetta figured it out. “Wait. Of course. The primes didn’t even think of that! Darien has
two
daughters! That makes him an even better prospect!”

Corene’s dark eyes were unreadable; she seemed to be struggling to speak in a light voice. “It doesn’t matter if my
pretend
father or my
real
father is sitting on the throne, no one seems to think I should be the next one in line,” she said.

“I think Nelson and Mirti were just so focused on the fact that Celia is related to three primes,” Josetta said awkwardly. “They weren’t thinking about
Celia
so much as the bloodlines.”

“And my blood is always wrong.”

“Corene—”

Corene stood up abruptly. “It’s all right. I’m getting used to being the one nobody ever remembers.”

Josetta jumped to her feet and caught Corene’s arm. “
I
remember you. You’re my sister. You’re my closest friend in the world.”

Corene wrenched away and opened her mouth as if to spit out a recrimination, but then she hesitated, and the bitter line of her mouth softened. “And you’re the best sister I could have ever had,” she said. “I’d miss
you
if you sailed hundreds of miles away.” She leaned forward to kiss Josetta on the cheek, then practically ran from the table, through the room, and out the door.

Josetta stared after her, then wended her way to Zoe’s side. “I think you should check on Corene when you get a chance. She seems to be having a rough day.”

“It’s been a strange one for all of us,” Zoe agreed. “I, for one, am ready for it to be over.”

“Well, I’m going to make my goodbyes to Filomara and leave,” Josetta said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Darien wants to leave for Chialto no later than noon. We’ll send the elaymotive to pick you up.”

“Oh no,” Josetta said, smiling. “I’m not going back to Darien’s house. I’m heading to the shelter. And to my own life. And not even Darien will be able to change my mind.”

When Josetta presented herself to Filomara, the empress was passably gracious and claimed she had enjoyed getting to know her. “Come visit Malinqua sometime,” Filomara invited, keeping Josetta’s hand in hers for a moment. “You’d like it, I think.”

“Perhaps I will,” Josetta said.

“I’ll introduce you to all my nephews,” the empress said with a speculative glance. “Maybe you’d like one of them more than you expect.”

“I like your grandson Lerafi,” Josetta said. “Is that good enough for you?”

Filomara laughed and dropped her hand. “Maybe,” she said.

Josetta turned to Steff, standing in Filomara’s shadow. “I hate to see you go, but I wish you all the best in your new life,” she said, giving him a hug. “Come visit us often.”

“I’ll try,” he said. “Take care of Rafe.”

“I’ll try.”

Josetta knew she should make a quick round of the room, bid farewell to Darien and the primes, but she simply couldn’t stand any more polite conversation. She slipped out of the room and through the cool high-ceilinged corridors of Kayle’s house, stepping out the front door into night air that was still dense and sticky with heat. Instantly, Foley was at her side.

“Heading back to the lodgings?” he asked. “Do you want to walk or shall I find an elaymotive?”

“It’s not that far. Let’s walk.”

They had traveled about five blocks in companionable silence when she realized Foley was her only guard. “Did Darien send Caze and Sorbin and the others ahead with Rafe, then? Or—”

“He’s decided the prince is safe,” Foley confirmed. “The Berringese boats sailed out of the harbor as soon as the tide was favorable, and the regent truly believes Ghyaneth will abide by his promise.”

Josetta took a deep breath. “Wonderful! I can hardly imagine what that will be like—not to be trailed by a dozen soldiers every time I take a step.”

Foley sent her a sideways glance. In the gaslights intermittently lining the streets, it was easy to see his amused expression. “Now you no longer have to keep him safe by pretending to be in love with him.”

That made her laugh. “What a relief that will be!”

There was a moment when the only sound between them was the light patter of their footsteps. “I think you are in love with him, though,” Foley said.

She couldn’t entirely read the tone of his voice, but he didn’t sound sad or bitter or lost or angry. He was merely making an observation. So she said, “I think I am, too.”

“And that means the task of looking after you falls to someone else now. Not me,” he said.

She came to a halt right there, one foot on an uneven section of brick, one on a carefully graded stretch of pavement. “You’re leaving the royal service? Or just leaving the task of guarding me?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “There’s someone else I need to watch over.”

She felt a complex surge of delight, curiosity, and the tiniest, smallest, least attractive tendril of jealousy. Foley had cared for her so long it was hard to imagine him giving all of his attention to someone else. “You’ve fallen in love? Oh, tell me about this person!”

He shook his head. “It’s not love. It’s—responsibility. I believe someone else needs me more than you do.”

She lifted a hand and pressed it against his heart. “Then whoever that person is, he or she will always be safe, because no one could be a better guard than you. I will miss you—but I am glad to see you moving on with your life.”

“We both are,” he said. “Everybody has to.”

 • • • 

J
osetta was close to tears by the time she let herself into Rafe’s room. It was almost completely dark, with only a little light glancing up through the open windows from the gaslight below. She could tell by the even sound of his breathing that Rafe was already asleep, so she moved as quietly as she could while she readied herself for bed.

But when she lay down next to him, he stirred and came half awake. “All done with pomp and statesmanship?” he asked through a yawn.

“Yes, finally,” she said, snuggling against him. The room was warm but not unbearably so, and she wanted to feel his particular heat against her skin. She wanted to be reassured that he was alive, that he had survived yet another dire adventure. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and headachy and a little dizzy,” he admitted. “But I’m not complaining! I could so easily be drowned. Or lying on the deck of a Berringese ship with my throat cut.”

“Don’t say such terrible things,” she begged, clinging even closer. “I’m going to have nightmares as it is. Every scene from this terrible day is printed on my mind like paintings on a wall. I’ll never forget a single one of them.”