The Rose Throne (26 page)

But the ambassador was no assassin. He was at least a foot shorter than she was, and Ailsbet was fairly certain that she could protect herself against him without any assistance. If the prince of Aristonne wished her dead, he would have sent someone else.

Perhaps the ambassador meant to propose marriage to her before Duke Kellin did, to take her away from her father’s court and offer her a place at his side when he returned to the continent. She would have her chance to escape. It was surprisingly tempting.

Whatever weyr she held would end as soon as she crossed the ocean to Aristonne. She would not be forever holding back the taweyr to prevent its discovery, nor wishing she had the neweyr. She would find Master Lukacs. She would be in a world where music mattered to everyone as it did to her, where her talent would be truly appreciated and allowed to grow.

Two hours after midnight, she went to the wall behind the kitchen and found the ambassador holding a scroll in his hands.

“It is a gift from Prince William of Aristonne,” said Belram with a bow.

“And what does Prince William of Aristonne want in return for this?” asked Ailsbet suspiciously.

“He wants only your happiness,” said Belram, his voice revealing nothing.

Ailsbet eyed the man. “Do you think I am a fool?”

“No, Princess.”

“What has Prince William heard of me?” she demanded.

“He has heard that you are mistreated by your father and overlooked by all in your father’s court,” the ambassador responded. “Even Duke Kellin does not see your true worth.”

Ailsbet was taken aback. Kellin was the one who had suggested she could become queen. What more could Prince William see in her? “Does Prince William expect me to send information to him?”

The ambassador fingered his beard. “Prince William has no need of a spy,” he said.

Ailsbet shook her head. “Do not expect me to believe that Prince William has forgiven all that has gone in the past.” Prince William had been only three years old when his father and his kingdom’s whole fighting force had been destroyed in battle by her father’s army.

“I did not say that Prince William has forgiven anyone. But you are not to blame for your father’s war.”

“I am princess of Rurik,” said Ailsbet.

“You are that,” said Belram. “Though I think it brings you more pain than happiness.”

Ailsbet did not dispute this. “My father—”

“Prince William despises your father and would sooner see him dead than standing in the same room with him. That is not in question.”

“But he sent you to sit with my father at his court and act as his emissary?”

Belram shrugged. “Your father is king of Rurik. I could hardly come and ask to speak with you without first speaking to him. And if ever I paid you attention openly, what would your father do?”

Ailsbet was not sure she knew the answer.

The ambassador continued, “He would make Prince William pay a ransom to send you a note, and then ask him for half his kingdom for your hand in marriage.”

Ailsbet put a hand to her throat. “I shall not marry Prince William,” she said. She was nearly betrothed to Duke Kellin, and while she did not love him, at least she knew him. She knew nothing about Prince William.

Ambassador Belram tilted his head to one side. “Prince William does not ask you to marry him, Princess Ailsbet. Please, open the scroll.”

Ailsbet pulled off the ribbon and unrolled the scroll. It was written on rougher paper than the earlier note, with splotches of darker color, and the writing was not as fine, instead seeming rather hurried. And familiar. In the dim light from the torches on the wall behind her, she scanned the contents.

It was not a formal letter or a poem as she had expected.

It was a song, purely instrumental. A song for the flute, in fact.

The notations were written in the coded marks of Aristonne’s system of music, which Ailsbet had learned from Master Lukacs.

This was the last song that she had learned from Master Lukacs, the one she had mastered just before he left more than four years ago. She had no need to read the music. It was all here, every change she had made to the original song when she had played it that last time with Master Lukacs, marked in his impatient hand.

“Prince William waits for you. For Ailsbet, the musician. Not Princess Ailsbet of Rurik. Do you understand?”

She nodded. Could she leave behind her place as princess, give up all power and political intrigue and be only a musician? Or was this just a way to get her to Aristonne, where she might be forced into a marriage with Prince William, despite his protestations to the contrary? It might be much worse than her situation here in Rurik. But it might also be much, much better. How could she assess the risk when such a prize was dangling before her?

“You have only to send a message,” continued the ambassador. “I shall wait for you with a small vessel, on the dock at the wide end of the river. There will be a black-and-white flag flying the swan of Aristonne.”

Ailsbet nodded. She had been there a few times, watching the boats from the continent unload their goods with the help of the unweyr, who were not affected by the ocean.

Ailsbet rolled up the scroll and held it against her chest.

“You must give no hint of what I have said to you,” warned Belram. “You must not speak to me or look at me differently. Your father might suspect something, and if he were to find out the truth—”

Ailsbet knew as well as he did what the consequences might be. The ambassador could end up in the Tower himself, and her own life would be in danger.

“Tell me of Prince William. Are you his friend?” asked Ailsbet. Before now she had thought of Kellin as her only hope for a refuge within her father’s court, her only way of surviving. But perhaps Prince William was not such a terrible alternative.

Belram stared at her. “I was his father’s friend. But
Prince William would not call me the same. He has been heard to say that a prince cannot afford to have friends. The moment he has a friend, he will look at that man differently, will favor him over others without noticing it, or will punish him in order to be seen not to favor him. A prince who has a friend is inviting others to twist him one way or another. A friend is a hostage at best and at worst is an invitation to betrayal.”

Prince William sounded like a man whom she might honor for his principles. A cold man, as cold and dispassionate as she was herself. Could she make a marriage with him if she had to?

“Is Master Lukacs not his friend, then?”

The ambassador smiled. “Ah, Master Lukacs is his fellow musical enthusiast. The prince allows himself this one weakness, you see. But I tell you the truth when I say that Prince William would throw all his musical instruments and scrolls into the fire if he had to, to save his kingdom.”

“And Master Lukacs?” Ailsbet was imagining a fire of scrolls, and Master Lukacs jumping into it to save them.

“The prince would throw him into the fire, too. And me. And you,” said the ambassador.

Ailsbet looked into his face, and she saw that he
was entirely serious. “He sounds a harsh man. You serve him anyway?”

“With all my heart,” said the ambassador, without hesitation. Then he slipped away, and Ailsbet walked back to her own rooms, humming to herself.

I
N THE WEEKS FOLLOWING
the groomsmen’s executions, the king grew more enthusiastic than ever in the pursuit of the ekhono. There had been two more servants accused who fled, and she heard of more than a dozen burnings in the city of Skorosa. No one from the palace attended these, and Issa was both relieved and guilty about this. She wished she could talk to Edik. She had tried to bring up the subject of his groomsmen’s execution, but he had simply walked away from her and refused to speak. He did not say much about any other subject, either, and had become so quiet at court that the king
mocked him for it. But even this did not change him.

At last, it was less than a week until the first day of autumn, when Issa would make her final oath of betrothal to Prince Edik. Issa spent all day being fitted by a seamstress for her betrothal gown, feeling hot and irritated and trying not to take her frustration out on the hapless woman, who kept pinning her through the fabric of the gown. Though she thought she had accepted her choice, Issa still felt a pang that evening, as she watched Kellin and Ailsbet with their heads together, laughing intimately.

Was it just a game between them? They seemed so happy in love, yet she felt as if she were being stabbed with thorns with every word they spoke. Was this what she would have to endure every day? Could she fall enough in love with Edik to take away the pain of this?

Now King Haikor called Kellin to him. “Shall we have a double ceremony, then? A prince and a princess of my house officially betrothed on the same day?”

Issa steeled herself to show no emotion. She found a bit of mold growing along a crack in the floor, and pressed some neweyr into it. The mold blossomed in green and white until Issa withdrew her neweyr entirely, and it crumbled to dust.

There was a long moment’s silence. Then Duke Kellin said, “If all can be made ready in so short a time?”

“If I command it so, it will be. After all, there will already be food prepared and the invitations sent,” said King Haikor.

Duke Kellin glanced at Issa, and then his face went blank. “You honor me, Your Majesty.”

“Princess Ailsbet?” said King Haikor. “Is this your wish, as well?”

Ailsbet bowed her head and came to kneel at Kellin’s side before her father. She glanced up at Issa, who had to turn away.

“Are there any who object to this?” the king asked the court.

Of course, no one objected.

“The wedding date will be decided later, but not too far off. Anyone who looks at you two can see that you are eager. And there is no reason to wait, since you both are of age.”

No reason at all, thought Issa.

“I assure you, there will be a handsome dowry laid upon her, Duke Kellin,” King Haikor added. He clapped his hands and declared that it was time for dancing. Soon there were feet stamping in rhythm as Kellin and Ailsbet twirled around the room.

Issa felt ill. She could see Edik across the room, staring at her. She knew that she must congratulate Kellin and Ailsbet properly, as a princess should.

Before she could, Prince Edik came after her and asked to dance with her.

She should do it, she knew. But she could not bear it. “I request leave to go to my room and rest. These past few weeks have been very trying for me,” she said, her voice unsteady.

“Are you ill?” asked Edik kindly.

“No, only tired,” said Issa. “Very tired. Please excuse me.” She did not wait for Edik’s response, but fled down the corridors toward her rooms, where she flung herself onto her bed and wept.

A few moments later, the door opened behind her. She thought it would be one of her servants and was a little ashamed of how she must look, her hair in disarray, her face ravaged by tears.

She looked up and saw Kellin.

He closed the door behind him. “What do you think you are doing to me?” he demanded.

“What I am doing to you?” Issa echoed.

He crossed the room in two steps. “You retreat from the Throne Room nearly in tears after the mention of my betrothal to Ailsbet, daring me to come after you in private. Did you think once of the
danger to me? To yourself? To Ailsbet? You tease me and taunt me with your eyes, and so I have to come, knowing that every minute you wait here for me is another minute that we shall never have again.”

“I—” Issa tried to begin, but she could not finish. Not when he was looking at her like that, his eyes angry and condemning. He had never said anything to her of his feelings before now. She had begun to believe that she was the only one who felt anything.

“I hate him,” said Kellin. “Do you know that? The boy whom I pity and hope will one day make every sacrifice worthwhile, I hate. Because he has the right to dance with you, to stand by you, to whisper to you. He will be married to you all too soon. If I had the hope of that for even one day, I should not care about any other day.”

Issa had nothing to say. Kellin was the one who had come to Weirland as King Haikor’s emissary. He was the one who had proposed the betrothal and had pressed on her the importance of her seeing Edik truly, as the man he might one day become. And now he threw that in her face?

“You will kill us,” he said, and then he leaned closer to her, inch by inch, until at the last it was she who had to cross the distance between them.

The kiss was hot and hard. Issa found her hands
were in his hair, pulling at it, and his fingers were on her neck, pressing her back against the wall, until she was pinned against it and could not move except for her lips against his.

It should have been wonderful. It should have been perfect. Instead, it was the most exquisitely painful thing she had ever experienced. Because she knew it had to end.

Every moment she tasted his lips against hers, the strength behind his embrace, the honesty that cost him so much, she knew she would have to let him go.