The Rose Throne (15 page)

“And what are womanly things, then?” she asked in return, smiling faintly.

“Jewels,” said Edik with an impatient wave of the hand. “And gowns. Sweet words and a gentle touch.” He said this with the disdain with which King
Haikor spoke of the neweyr and all things womanly, though the king offered such things freely enough to Lady Pippa.

“Those things will show you that Rurik itself is strong, but nothing about you,” said Ailsbet.

“Maybe I should tell her a joke and make her laugh,” said Edik after a moment’s thought.

But Ailsbet shook her head, thinking dubiously of the jokes Edik might have heard in her father’s court.

“Then what?” asked Edik. “How can I possibly fill a letter?”

Ailsbet thought of the Weirese prophecy her mother had spoken of. Surely, Princess Marlissa knew of it, as well. “Let her know that you think of both kingdoms, that you wish them both to prosper together. And the two weyrs, as well. She should believe you understand a little about the neweyr.”

“The neweyr? Why should I think of that? It is the taweyr that matters. And Weirland should be glad to be part of Rurik. It will be much better served that way,” said Edik.

Ailsbet was sure it was what their father thought, though she doubted Princess Marlissa felt the same way.

“Do you think she will have read many books?” asked Edik suddenly.

“I should think so,” said Ailsbet, remembering what Lord Umber had told her of King Jaap’s extensive library.

Edik’s face fell.

“But perhaps she is bored by books,” Ailsbet went on. “She already has people she can talk to of books around her. She will want to hear something different from you.” She hoped that this was true, for Edik’s sake.

“What, then?” asked Edik.

And so it went, suggestion by suggestion.

In the end, despite her earlier intentions, Ailsbet wrote the letter almost entirely on her own. When she read it aloud to him, she found that Edik had no more interest in it, as long as it was finished and he could pretend to his father it was his. Instead, feeling slightly better, he asked Ailsbet to play metal soldiers with him. She did so while her mind turned over the words of the letter again and again:

After she copied the final draft, Ailsbet left the letter in Edik’s chamber, curious to hear what happened to it. But when Edik had recovered, and the king and the court returned from the countryside, the letter was sent as she had written it. It seemed the king did not see the hints at the prophecy, or perhaps did not know the prophecy well enough to see them.

On the contrary, King Haikor laughed over the letter’s length and teased Edik over his way with women. He seemed to think the letter was too short and very plainly written. But he announced officially that Duke Kellin had negotiated a betrothal between Edik and the Weirese princess and that the official binding ceremony would take place on the first day of autumn.

This, at last, seemed to reach Lord Umber, and he reacted by becoming more obsequious around the king, more eager to please, and the sense of humor that Ailsbet had once enjoyed became a tool to make
the king and court laugh often. Ailsbet once shared a glance with Duke Kellin in the midst of one such incident, and she thought she saw a warning in his eyes.

“L
ET US HAVE A SPRING HUNT,”
the king suggested one warm afternoon.

“It is my pleasure to serve Your Majesty,” said Lord Umber humbly.

“Of course,” said Duke Kellin.

Ailsbet sometimes wondered if she had been mistaken when she saw Kellin in the south last summer. The man who dared to flout King Haikor’s orders and save an ekhono could not be the same nobleman who stood at the king’s side so quietly day in and out. He never seemed to look for any benefit to himself for his services, and though he was never fawning
as Lord Umber had become, he was always carefully dutiful. “We will go into the forest tomorrow and see who brings back the greater prize,” said King Haikor to the court.

“And what will the winner of this competition receive?” asked Lord Umber.

“A hundred gold pieces,” said King Haikor. “And a favor granted by the king.”

“If I should win, I would not ask for any gold, only my king’s ever-gracious goodwill,” said Lord Umber.

“I am sure that you will do honor to your new king and kingdom, Lord Umber,” said Duke Kellin.

“I shall do more than honor the king. I shall prove to him I am of such value that he may wish to have a new man as his favorite,” said Lord Umber.

“That would indeed be a worthy prize for a man who proves the fiercest hunter,” said the king. But a look passed between Kellin and the king that made Ailsbet sure the two of them knew more than Lord Umber.

Nonetheless, Lord Umber strutted about the rest of the day, unaware of any danger.

Ailsbet did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned with images of Lord Umber being chased by her father on horseback, being caught and killed with
the king’s taweyr stopping his heart. She woke early and lay in bed, wondering what her father intended for Lord Umber. Had he ever intended Ailsbet to marry him?

In the end, Ailsbet went outside to see the men off. The other ladies of the court were already there. She had never made any close friends among them, and she held herself at a distance now. If they thought she was arrogant, she did not care. She did not intend to be distracted from what was happening between her father and Lord Umber.

She watched as Lord Umber boasted about what he would do to the boar that day, how quickly they would all be returning. The king nodded and clapped him heartily on the back. Duke Kellin stood at the king’s side. His riding clothes were black, in contrast to the colorful raiment worn by all the others. It might have been his choice simply to remain in the background, or it might have been more than that.

Once the men were gone, the other noblewomen went back into the palace to continue their gossip. But Ailsbet stayed outdoors, pacing in the courtyard, imagining the scents and smells of the royal forest and the feeling of her own taweyr allowed to go free, until the party returned. She half-expected that it
would be not a dead boar that returned to the palace, but Lord Umber’s body.

But late that afternoon, when the party returned, Lord Umber had indeed won the hunt. He had a boar over his horse’s flank, its eyes glassy with death, its tusks red with blood.

When Ailsbet looked at her father, there was a sly smile on his face. “A hundred gold pieces,” he called out to a page. “Bring them to Lord Umber at once.”

“But Your Majesty, I have no wish for such a reward,” said Lord Umber.

The king would not hear him. “I shall not be known as a man who does not pay his debts,” he said.

Ailsbet looked closely at Lord Umber, seeing his face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and his hunting jacket had been torn in several places. He limped a little and acquiesced to the king’s suggestion that the boar be cleaned and trussed for the evening’s dinner. She caught up to him as he headed to his own chambers. “What happened to you in the woods?” she asked. “Did my father attack you?”

“Of course not. I am a better hunter than he could hope to be. Can you not see my strength in every motion?” he said.

“You are injured,” said Ailsbet.

He waved a hand at her. “A scratch. I am in no pain. There will be no lasting damage. The boar took me high.” He put a hand just below his ribs on his right side. Ailsbet could see no blood seeping through his tunic, and she assumed that he must have been bandaged after the boar was dead, for her father always took the palace physician along on the hunt.

“But why is my father so pleased with himself?” asked Ailsbet.

“Because I am soon to be his favorite, and you and I shall be married,” said Lord Umber easily, and he drew her close to him. “I hope that you have changed your mind at last, eh?” He stole a kiss before she could pull away, then laughed and stumbled down the hallway.

Ailsbet hurried away from him, back to the courtyard. She tasted bitter and sweet at once in her mouth, and she felt a prick of pain in her throat. She swallowed again and again, but her throat grew hotter and more painful. She could feel sweat break out on her face and had to focus on her footsteps to keep herself from wandering. She did not know where she was, still inside the palace or out.

She felt a hand on her neck, lifting her head. It felt cold and hard, and the pain in her throat worsened.
She recognized her father’s face close to her own and would have pulled away, but she realized she did not have the strength.

“What did you do? Did you touch his wound?” the king demanded.

Ailsbet shook her head firmly, shuddering at the thought.

But King Haikor seemed not to believe her. He pulled up her hands and examined them. “I see no blood.” Then he sniffed them. “No scent of it, either. Good.”

She was in his royal chambers, Ailsbet realized. She could not remember if she had been here before. She gazed around at the sumptuous curtains in damask and silk, the braided hangings on the walls, and the great bed, the size of ten bears all lying together.

Ailsbet concentrated on what she could remember, before she had become confused. Earlier in the day had been the spring hunt. Lord Umber had won. Her father had seemed cheerful.

“What did you do?” asked Ailsbet, her words slurred. “To Lord Umber?”

King Haikor answered, “He thought he would take my place as king. My place. And then he came willingly into my forest, where the animals have long been taught to fear me and to answer when I call.”

“Did you use your taweyr on him?” Ailsbet asked.

“I helped call the boar to him with my taweyr,” her father answered. “A generous act, do you not agree? At the last moment, the boar went wild and gored him. But lightly, only lightly. I made sure of that.”

It had all been staged. And Lord Umber did not understand any of it. “But why?” Ailsbet asked. “If you meant to kill him, why not do it openly? Why the hunt?” The man had already betrayed his own kingdom, and her father had killed other noblemen in court. Clearly Lord Umber’s fortunate arrival in Rurik had offered a second way to take Weirland and was unnecessary now that Marlissa was to marry Edik.

Her father made a theater of answering her, walking slowly around her as he spoke, as if telling a story on a stage. “He thrust the spear straight into the boar’s eye. The creature died instantly and fell forward, pulling him with it. Only then did he notice that he was wounded, for he saw the blood on the tusk. What was I to do but send the palace physician to aid him?”

Poison again, thought Ailsbet. It sent a message to others in his court who might consider crossing him in the future. If they ever believed that the king was showing weakness, it was likely just a ruse. He might
be toying with them. They could never trust that he would not come for them when they least expected it.

Her father pinched Ailsbet’s cheeks as if teasing her. “You kissed him, did you? Kissed him because you thought he had come back victorious, that you would sit in your mother’s place and he would sit across from you on my throne?”

She did not know what to say. The king had arranged the betrothal. It had not been her choice. And now he blamed her for trying to make the best of it?

“Well, it is no matter.” King Haikor said casually. “He did not want you, only my kingdom. And now he has what he deserves.”