Half of her expected Romar to send a message to her room, begging her to meet him somewhere so they could talk in private. But such a summons would be risky, she knew, so half of her was convinced he would find no way to communicate. She was equally conflicted about whether she should stay in her room, hoping to hear from him—or leave, so that he had no way to reach her.
When the knock fell on the door, her heart clambered to her throat. But it was only Milo with a note from Baryn.
Can you see me at your earliest convenience? I am available at this very moment, if you are.
A strange day when you were disappointed to learn that your king wanted your company, she thought as she followed the steward down the stately halls.
Baryn was waiting for her in a relatively small study, a cluttered but friendly room where he clearly did much of the real work of governing the kingdom. He greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek.
“Kirra! Such a marvelous thing. I send one sister off on a tour with my daughter, and a second sister comes back in her place.” He grinned at her over his spectacles. A tuft of his white hair had come uncombed and was sticking up on the back of his head. He looked like a mad librarian.
“You know Casserah,” Kirra said with a laugh. “Not a very sociable girl.”
“Well, I hope you will tell her, and your father, how very highly my wife and daughter think of her,” he said a little more seriously. She was not certain if he had figured out the deception and was really complimenting her, or if he actually wanted to convey his appreciation to Casserah. “They said she was intelligent, self-possessed, and always interesting, even when she did not appear to be enjoying herself.”
Kirra laughed again. “Sounds like Casserah.”
His smile quickly faded. “A bad business about your uncle, Kirra. I’m so very sorry.”
Her own face turned grave. “What will happen to him?”
“For now he has been imprisoned. He is being questioned. We are hoping he can tell us if links exist between him and Halchon Gisseltess, and what other lesser lords might be involved in plans for small uprisings. So far he has chosen not to be very communicative.”
“He has some shape-shifting skill,” she forced herself to say. “So be careful. It is possible he will try to make himself look like someone else so he can flee the prison.”
Baryn watched her with his faded blue eyes. “Do you want to see him?”
Kirra felt a chill settle around her heart. She should see him. She should ask him if he had ever loved her or if he had spent the last twenty-five years pretending. And if he had loved her, if he was able to convince her that he had—well, then, she should offer him something—forgiveness, some understanding, a willingness to listen to the bitter litany of how hatred had slowly driven him to treason. She owed that to him, if he had loved her. Because she had loved him.
But she didn’t think she could bear it. Not on top of all the other betrayals.
“Maybe in a few months,” she said. “When I’m not so angry with him. He will still be here, I presume.” There had not been an execution in Gillengaria for the past hundred years. Surely Baryn was not going to revive the tradition.
“I fear he will be here most of the rest of his life.”
“I will tell my father.”
Baryn nodded briskly and turned the subject. “Did you meet either of the ambassadors last night?”
“No, I am hoping to manage that at tonight’s dinner. What do you think of them?”
He moved his head back and forth in an equivocating motion. “I think they have some potential to be friends and allies. Trading partners, certainly. But I think the people of Karyndein are looking to start a war with some of their near neighbors, and as much as anything they’re interested in friends who can supply armies. I am not much of an imperialist, as you know. And I think I will have plenty of use for my armies here at home in upcoming months. So I do not think I will be signing any except commercial treaties.”
“I don’t understand why people go to war,” Kirra said.
“Don’t you?” he said, a little rueful and a little amused. “Because they want something they don’t have. Most trouble in this world is caused by people wanting something not currently in their possession.”
She instantly wondered if anyone had been gossiping to the king about Casserah’s possible affair with the regent. Valri was the most likely culprit—though the young queen had not seemed to think about or care about anyone except Amalie.
Red and silver hell,
Kirra thought. “Well, then,” she said, as lightly as she could. “I suppose I have caused a few wars myself from time to time.”
He looked at her sadly. “All of us have, my dear.” He sighed and, for a moment, looked his full sixty-five years. “And Coralinda Gisseltess seems determined to start the next one.”
Thank the gods. A change of subject. “What’s she done now?”
“It’s still only rumor. Apparently one of Els Nocklyn’s vassals was overheard disparaging the Daughters of the Pale Mother and accusing some of his fellow lords of being fools for so eagerly accepting Coralinda’s doctrine. A few days later, his house and grounds were burned. There’s no sign of the man, his wife, his children—not even their bodies.”
“Coralinda did that?” Kirra breathed.
Baryn shrugged. “Some say they saw a troop of men riding by that very day, dressed all in black and silver—the colors of the Lumanen Convent. Others say, no, they were wearing black and red. Gisseltess livery. I have sent a delegation to question the Lestra and do some further investigation, but I do not think I will discover anything conclusive.”
“What has Els said?”
“He is too sick to send a message. His son-in-law wrote me a very cold letter saying that Nocklyn would take care of its own and that I need not launch any investigation. I think I shall have to find a way to establish a presence in Nocklyn—in stealth.”
“If Coralinda really did such a thing—”
“Yes. I know. Inexcusable.”
“Terrifying.”
“Yes,” he said again. “I know.”
“I will tell my father that as well.”
“When do you return to Danalustrous?”
This very minute, if I didn’t have your damned dinner to attend.
“Tomorrow morning, I think. I find myself feeling as Casserah must have felt for the first few stops along the circuit. Homesick.”
“Then if you leave before I have a chance to speak to you again, travel safely. And thank you for all you have done for Ghosenhall.”
IT was too wet to go outside, and Kirra found herself uninterested in participating in whatever indoor activities Valri had put together for the guests, so she went back to her room. Senneth had left a note, but only to mention that she’d be gone for a few hours on a trip into the city with Cammon. Melly was also gone, presumably running errands of her own.
There was literally nothing to do but sleep. Kirra lay herself rather gingerly on the bed, scowling because she wasn’t tired in the least, and surprised herself by almost instantly dropping into dreaming.
A knock on the door woke her about an hour later. She sat up quickly, her hands going to her hair, and tried to convince herself that it could not possibly be Romar. The room was dim with the half-light of a rainy afternoon, but Kirra could see herself in the mirror well enough when she scrambled from the bed. A bit rumpled but flushed from her nap. Pretty. Sweet.
The knock came again, a little more hesitant. Kirra hurried across the floor to throw open the door.
Belinda Brendyn was standing there.
For a moment they just stared at each other, Kirra stupid from sleep and a sudden wild dread.
Why is she here, what does she know?
For her part, dark little Belinda Brendyn looked uncertain herself. The expression on her face could have been embarrassment, could have been worry. Could have been desperate determination.
“My lady,” Kirra said at last, her voice utterly neutral.
“I’m sorry, serra. I hope I didn’t come at an inconvenient time,” the other woman replied. “I thought—I wanted to—I had something I wanted to ask you.”
Are you in love with my husband?
“I suppose it’s something quite confidential,” Kirra said, stepping back. “Come in, then.” She shut the door behind her most unexpected visitor, and the two of them stood there a moment, looking at each other. Kirra decided she would not be the first to speak, no matter how uncomfortable the silence grew.
Belinda took a deep breath and Kirra braced herself. “They told me you were a healer,” Belinda said.
The dead last thing Kirra had expected. “Yes. I am.” Then, since that sounded so bald, “Are you sick?”
Belinda opened her mouth as if to speak, and then turned away to begin an aimless pacing of the room. Kirra stayed where she was, just inside the door. “I don’t know. Perhaps not. It’s just that I—it seems that I should have—and I’ve never dealt with mystics before. I have nothing against them, truly I don’t, it’s just that—they haven’t come my way. I don’t know if you can help me even if you would.”
Bright Mother burn me in ashes to the ground.
“I don’t know, either,” Kirra said as gently as she could. “Some hurts and illnesses I can cure. Some I cannot. What exactly do you suffer from?”
“I’m barren,” Belinda whispered, and stopped her pacing.
What?
“Barren?” Kirra repeated stupidly.
Belinda turned to face her. “I’ve been married more than a year now and I haven’t conceived. I know that one of the reasons my husband wed me was so that I could bear him children, sons and daughters to inherit the property. And I’ve always wanted children. I was eager to have them, so I—but I haven’t gotten pregnant. I’m so afraid there’s something wrong with me. I don’t want to disappoint Romar.”
Oh gods, great gods, dreadful gods, how was it possible she would have to have this conversation? “Sometimes, my lady, it does take a little time before—”
“I know. That’s what my mother says. And Romar has been gone a great deal, so we have not had as many opportunities as we—but still. I should have had a baby by now. I’m afraid something in my body is broken.” She lifted her dark eyes and Kirra could see that she was crying silently. The expression on the pointed face sharpened to one of determined bravery, and Belinda said, “It is so important that I have Romar’s baby. And I don’t know how many more chances I will have.”
“Why wouldn’t you have many more chances?” Kirra forced herself to ask.
“Because I think—I’m afraid—I think it’s possible he’s fallen in love with someone else.”
It seemed like a full minute before Kirra could bring herself to speak. “Is your husband a dishonorable man, my lady?” she asked finally in a very soft voice. “Would he abandon you for some other woman?”
Belinda shook her head so fiercely a few of her tears came flying off her cheeks like wet diamonds. “No. No. He would never do anything to shame me. He is—he is such a good man, serra. He is not—he is not the warm and gentle sort of person I always imagined I would marry. He is intense, and impatient, and full of this restless energy. Nothing slows him down, nothing holds him in place very long. But he is so passionate. He cares for so many people. You should see him with his mother, the lengths he will go to in order to make her happy. All his tenants would lay down their plows and die for him—he is such a good master. His estates are the best-run in all of Merrenstow. He would not desert the people who depend on him. He certainly would not cast me aside. But I think—I’m afraid—if he loves someone else . . . Serra, I don’t think he’s the kind of man who will be able to bring himself to love me, too.”
Gods, gods, gods, gods. Kirra felt her heart shrink to a hard ball and then shatter inside her chest. The shards nicked the bowed ribs as they went careening out. She could feel the tiny welts, leaking blood and growing larger. “Do you know—do you have any idea—”
Belinda nodded. She put her hands up to wipe away the tears and stood there, trying to look very composed. “I got letters from some malicious
friends
while he was on the road,” she said. “People couldn’t wait to write and tell me how Romar danced with this woman in Kianlever, with that one in Coravann. But one name came up over and over again. Casserah Danalustrous.”