The Tears of the Rose (7 page)

“High King Uorsin,” Erich said, “these matters concern us all. Avonlidgh awaits these same answers.”

I hadn't thought Old Erich could be so stubborn. Despite his stooped profile and white hair, he seemed like a hunting dog on the scent. He would not give up.

“Speak!” Uorsin demanded, and the midwife braced her shoulders and caught my eye. An apology. How odd that she understood. “Princess Amelia, despite the great emotional blows she has suffered, is healthy and strong. There's every reason to expect a vital babe, born about a month after Danu's midsummer feast—as long as Her Highness is careful to remain rested and at peace.”

“And is the child a boy or girl?” One of Erich's retainers this time.

“Only Glorianna knows,” Marin answered. “It's not for us to guess such things, especially so early on.”

“The princess was ill on the journey—that's a sign of a boy,” someone said.

“The witch Salena cursed Uorsin's get to throw only girls!” another shouted, from the dubious anonymity of the crowd.

“Glorianna may know, but so do I.” Lady Zevondeth tottered forward from where she'd been sitting in a chair to the side. She leaned heavily on her cane and took Marin's measure. From the corner of my eye, I caught Ursula stepping forward, then checking herself.

Lady Zevondeth hitched her way toward me, the gold-wrapped oak cane thumping on the marble tiles, and my skin crawled. Suddenly I didn't want her to touch me, which made no sense. She'd always been kindly to me. But the acute way her nearly blind, milky eyes shone, the greedy reach of her hand—and the way Ursula deftly inserted herself between us—upset my mind much as my gut had been.

“Lady Zevondeth,” Ursula greeted her, formally, as if our father hadn't disgraced her.

“Your Highness.” Lady Zevondeth dropped a deep curtsy, showing more respect than the situation currently warranted. “How fares Queen Andromeda? I hope she discovered some answers to her questions.”

That hit me like a spark from the fireplace. Andi was a queen now. That is, if we acknowledged the sovereignty of the Tala and Rayfe's claim as king. How odd that Andi and I might both be queens and Ursula forever a princess.

“What questions?” Uorsin growled, and Zevondeth beamed at him, unafraid.

“I cannot answer that, Your Highness.”

“You can if I command it.” His tone held menace, but it seemed to roll off her.

“Not if you've previously commanded us all never to speak of it in this court.” She grinned, showing a few missing teeth. Horrible. Especially when she turned it on me. “I need only to touch your hand, Princess Amelia. Remember—I was there when you came into this world. I meant you no harm then or now.”

“Do it,” Uorsin ordered, likely to both of us.

Ursula gave way but rested her hand on her sword hilt. Bizarrely, it comforted me, the way she stuck by my side even still. As if she would cut down Lady Zevondeth in the midst of court. Really she shouldn't be wearing her sword with that dress—the lines were all wrong—but no one short of Uorsin could make Ursula take off her sword.

Thus all the jokes about her sword being Ursula's only lover. Not looking in Zevondeth's black gaps, I held out my hand and gazed up at Glorianna's window, praying to Her for strength. I wished that if Glorianna was whispering Her will to me, She'd speak more loudly. Though I'd claimed to have visions of Glorianna—mostly when I was younger—I'd never gotten a real message from Her. Part of me felt fragile, like that brittle glass about to be smashed. She offered me none of Her strength now.

Zevondeth's hand grasped mine, tight enough that the palsy that shook her spread up my arm. Hopefully it was from age, not disease. I imagined my skin shriveling like hers, my eyes turning into white marbles. The rose window seemed to mock me with Glorianna's silence, and I scanned the sea of faces avidly watching the spectacle.

My gaze snagged on an apple-green stare. The White Monk, with his face hidden by his monk's cowl, but somehow that color penetrated the shadows, laying me open with his hatred and scorn.

“It is a boy,” Zevondeth declared. And, oddly, she winked at me.

Rather than looking devastated by the news, Ursula furrowed her brow in confusion. Why she'd believed Andi could predict the future, I didn't know.

I was getting tired of this.

“Then my grandson shall be born here, at the seat of my power,” Uorsin declared. “Princess Amelia shall stay by my side, where she belongs.” He took my hand and held it, strangely making me feel more captured than cherished.

“And what of Avonlidgh and justice, High King?” Erich demanded. Several angry voices joined in, forming a chorus of unrest. “Are we to remain a defeated people, continually plagued by our enemy?”

“We are at peace with the Tala,” Derodotur spoke firmly. “The alliance of the royal houses is intact and all treaties hold. There is no defeat.”

“Then my son gave his life for a treaty that did not change?” Erich made it sound absurd. “I find it hard to believe, High King Uorsin—and remember that I was there when you sacked Aerron and gave no quarter to your enemy—that you would accept this so calmly.”

The regal ambassador from Aerron, of an age to have been there also, inclined her head, a bitter line to her mouth.

“You were also there when I took Castle Avonlidgh, weren't you, Erich?” Uorsin's tone held deadly threat. “You fought me and failed then. Do you care to pit yourself against me a second time, now that I have all the might of the eleven other kingdoms behind me?”

Erich made a show of looking around the court room, which had fallen mostly silent, save a few whispers here and there, to better hear every word of this exchange. Then Old Erich's gaze fell on my mother's empty throne. “It seems to me that you lack certain . . . assistance you enjoyed then. How will you keep what you hold, with Salena gone and the Tala in possession of the heir to
her
power?”

6

T
he great hall reverberated with the hush of utter shock and apprehension. No one dared move, lest they draw Uorsin's mighty rage upon themselves.

Old Erich—not so stooped, icy-blue eyes glittering with challenge—faced the High King without fear. Did he have a death wish? Had Hugh's loss so unbalanced him?

“ 'Tis treason to speak those names in this noble hall,” Uorsin replied, as if musing over a riddle. “What game do you play with me, my old enemy? Surely you don't believe this bear has lost his teeth.”

“Don't I?” Erich returned calmly. “I see no bites taken out of our enemy. Instead my people and yours lick their wounds this winter. We looked to the High King for the protection he promised, and what did we receive? Nothing. Only war with demons who seek to destroy us. You promised us bounty greater than Annfwn's, and what do we see? The borders to paradise locked against us and our people starving at the gates. You made a vassal kingdom of noble Avonlidgh. You've made a cripple of her. Which kingdom is next, I wonder?”

More of the other kings had ranged themselves behind Erich, rebellion in their faces. This was what Andi had seen. People fighting over her. Death and destruction. All those burned-out farms we'd seen. There would be more of that. Uorsin's peace would fail. The White Monk caught my eye, pulling the cowl back a bit, so the bright light of the marble hall illuminated the twisting shadows of scars on his face. His eerie gaze seemed to carry a message.

“What do you mean, the borders of Annfwn are closed to us? What superstitious nonsense is this?” This from the Aerron ambassador.

Old Erich fixed her with a sharp eye. “Not superstition, Lady Laurenne. Her Majesty and the High King's heir, Princess Ursula herself, confirmed the truth of this.”

I nearly groaned aloud and even caught Ursula rolling her eyes up in a grimace, a rare break in her composure. She was spared a reply—to any of the shouted questions—by the sheer cacophony of the response. Even Derodotur seemed at a loss to control the situation.

I stood, and everyone gaped at me, their demands for information falling into a confused jumble of murmurs. I was tired and suddenly starving. Having no idea what I should say next, I quickly descended the steps, so as not to be taller than Uorsin for longer than necessary, compounding my already unforgiveable breach of etiquette. To make up for it—though, judging by the astonished insult contorting Uorsin's face, nothing could—I sank into a deep and respectful curtsy. “Forgive me, Father. I know you'll think me weak, and indeed my frail woman's body begs for rest at this moment, lest I endanger my child, but I must honor my vow to my late husband.”

Once I could have worked up pretty tears to sway him, but no. I'd never wept out of true sorrow in my life, and now that I had reason, I couldn't. Instead I gazed up at my King and father with wide eyes. The color of pansies, he'd always said.

“I took a vow and I mean to keep it. Please don't be angry, but I fell in love with Hugh because I knew he was the only man”—my voice broke suddenly—“the only one who came close to your honor and integrity in my estimation. Hugh would have wanted his son born at Windroven, like his fathers before him. I cannot fail his memory.”

Uorsin visibly softened and gestured at me to rise. Erich assisted me himself, blue gaze assessing me. I wasn't sure if I'd helped or hindered whatever game he played—or which I should try to do. If only Glorianna would speak to me! I felt truly ill and pressed a hand to my lips. Might as well make it clear to all. “I fear for my child. For this babe who will be the hope of lasting peace in the Twelve Kingdoms, if I can't be at Windroven, near the poor, entombed body of Prince Hugh, who was the best of us all. Glorianna keep him.”

High Priest Kir echoed my prayer, stepping forward to sketch Glorianna's circle in the air. “Let us all pray,” he intoned, “for the passing of Prince Hugh and his reception into Glorianna's loving arms.”

Even Uorsin bowed his head then, murmuring along with the prayer. He seemed genuinely grieved, and I wondered what to believe. Still, he emerged from the moment with a different look about him. No less angry, but more his usual kingly self. Perhaps my invocation of Glorianna had enabled Her to reach out to him, to soothe his destructive rage. He nodded at me, as if answering my thought.

“You have always been loyal and selfless, my Amelia. Fine, then—have the babe at Windroven, but then he shall come here, to be raised by me and to rule as High King from this throne. I have decided. Go rest yourself and the burden you carry. King Erich, attend me in my study and we shall discuss this in private.”

I did not mind at all being essentially sent to my rooms. Ursula fell into step beside me, but I ignored her. We didn't speak until we reached the rooms I'd been assigned. My childhood chambers had been refurbished after my wedding. Still I'd expected to return to the rooms I'd shared with Hugh those fateful few nights we'd stayed until the Tala attacked.

Instead, they showed me to my mother's old suite.

Marin bustled in, finding a space to brew her teas for me. As always, anticipating my need. Ursula stayed beside me in the doorway, equally astonished, I think. The rooms had been cleaned but otherwise were much the same. So far as I could tell—I'd been in here only a few times, when the three of us snuck in to poke around, to learn what we could of our mother.

Until Uorsin had found us out and ordered them locked and sealed.

“Did you know about this?” I asked Ursula under my breath.

“No. I would have warned you.”

“It was my idea,” Lady Zevondeth cackled out behind us, making us both jump like the guilty girls we'd been so long ago. “I informed the chatelaine that these rooms should be prepared for you, Princess Amelia. As a widow and the future Queen of Avonlidgh, no others are worthy of your rank. Let it never be said that Ordnung does not follow proper etiquette. Especially for our own.”

“Until our father finds out,” Ursula observed in a dry tone.

“I'll handle Uorsin,” Zevondeth said, painfully hobbling the circuit of the outer room, examining the few artifacts of our mother that remained. Like Andi, our mother had never been much for books—something I knew because Ursula used to tease Andi so about it—but there the shelves held a surprising number of them. Zevondeth pulled a chair up to the newly kindled fire and bade a serving girl to build the blaze hotter and to give her an extra lap blanket. Oh, and to bring her tea. Then she cocked her head at us, milky eyes finding us unerringly. “Come, come, girls. We have things to discuss and I don't want to miss my regular afternoon nap.”

Obediently, as if we
were
still girls and attending her for lessons in manners and elocution, we settled ourselves in chairs near her, Ursula perching on the edge of one to accommodate her sword. Zevondeth scowled at her.

“It's unladylike to wear a sword in the first place, Miss Ursula—much less indoors, and with a gown.”

Ursula smiled, affection in it that surprised me. “I cannot wear pants in court and I cannot appear as less than any of the men or I lose their respect. This is my compromise. If you have another that meets the same criteria, I'll entertain it.”

Zevondeth snorted. “By the sound of it, losing the men's respect is the least of your worries. Uorsin barely stopped short of disinheriting you entirely.”

Ursula lightly brushed the jewel in the hilt of her sword. That was her other reason for wearing it all the time, I knew. It was her talisman, that jewel that had belonged to Salena. Ursula thought I didn't know, but bratty little sisters have ways of finding out such things. I'd kept the secret, biding my time until I could use it against her. Then I grew up and the moment never came.

Or had it?

“He'll come around.” Ursula spoke reflectively, almost more to herself than to Zevondeth. “This is a difficult time—losing Andi to the Tala, the implications that she and Annfwn might be forever beyond his reach, on top of the crop failures and various forms of unrest. The advent of this new, male heir came at exactly the right moment for him to seize upon this as the road to a better era.”

“Uorsin never did get over Salena's providing him with only girls,” Zevondeth agreed. “In you, Amelia, he sees his chance to thwart her machinations.”

“What do you mean?” Her redemption, surely, not her machinations? “No woman can control the sex of her babe.”

“Can't she?” Zevondeth laughed that cackling sound that put my small hairs on end. Marin handed me her special tea and a plate of thin toasts with fruit spread. “Salena was no ordinary woman; make no mistake of that, little Ami.”

“You speak of power that belongs to Glorianna alone—not to any human. Or demon.”

“I speak of what Andromeda is learning, following in her mother's very powerful footsteps. Watch that you're not left in the dust.”

“I wish for nothing more to do with her. Except justice.” The tea scalded my tongue and I almost welcomed the burn. Everyone saw me as worthless, powerless. And here Zevondeth was talking like Andi was so wonderful when she was nothing more than a murderess and traitor. “She killed Hugh.”

“Did she?” Zevondeth cast a white-eyeballed glance in Ursula's direction, and to my surprise, Ursula fidgeted. Was that . . . guilt? The sour scent of it drifted through the air.

“What aren't you two telling me?” I demanded, setting the plate aside. Then I snagged one of the toasts anyway, so ravenous for food, I couldn't resist.

“Is Ami's babe truly a boy?” Ursula asked. She wasn't avoiding the subject, however. I could see that much. She seemed to need the answer.

“Why? Did you have other intelligence?” Zevondeth smiled, the sweet old granny no one would ever mistake her for.

I snorted. “Andi seems to think she's some sort of prophetess now—she told Ursula that I was pregnant with a girl.”

Ursula focused her keen gaze on me, raising her hawklike brows at me gobbling more of the toast. Glorianna help me—if I wasn't puking, I was eating.

“A little fact she knew before you did, I might point out.”

“What else did Andromeda tell you?”

“We didn't have much time to talk,” Ursula hedged.

“Ami, dear, would you send your midwife and ladies away?”

I nearly refused Zevondeth her demand, though we both pretended it was a request. In truth, however, the old woman scared me. Some things you never outgrow.

After the ladies withdrew, Ursula stood and moved away from the fire. Always more comfortable moving, she paced the chamber as she spoke. “She showed me the border to Annfwn and bade me—”

“Fancy name for a dismal place,” I remarked. “It just means the Wild Lands. It's not even a real word.”

“It means ‘paradise,' in the old language.” Zevondeth folded her hands over the top of her cane. “Make no mistake, Princess—Uorsin's appetite for the place has never diminished, though Salena led him away from it. And a man does not hunger for the undesirable.”

“Well, it
sounds
dismal.” They ignored me, as if I hadn't spoken.

“She bade me to try to cross the border,” Ursula continued.

“And?” Zevondeth licked her brittle old lips. “What happened when you tried?”

Ursula shrugged, holding up her palms in bewilderment. “I could not.”

“But the Tala could.”

“Yes.”

Zevondeth thumped her cane on the floor, face flushed with triumph. “That's my girl. She's truly taken the reins of her mother's power, then.”

“I wouldn't have believed such a thing was possible if I hadn't experienced it myself,” Ursula said.

“Well, I don't believe it.” I poured myself more tea, to give myself something to do. All of this was absurd. “Need I remind you that she's a traitor and a murderess? Our mother would disown her if she could.”

Zevondeth reached over and patted my knee. “You have been through much, young Amelia, and you are distraught.”

“That doesn't mean I've lost my wits!” I looked accusingly at Ursula. “Surely you don't expect us to believe such a wild tale.”

Ursula tucked her hands behind her back, spreading her legs into a solid stance—all wrong for the way she was dressed. She regarded me gravely. “I do expect you to believe it. It is the truth, whether the High King wishes it to be so or not.”

I snorted, sipping the much cooler tea. I was not so empty-headed, and I knew things they did not. “He'll find a way. If not him, King Erich will. We
will
have justice. It's Glorianna's will that we reclaim Annfwn for Her. A goddess is far more powerful than some Tala trickster.”