Trusted (17 page)

“You will never wed the king. He is only doing this to lure you into sleeping with him. Once he does it and finds you so sorely lacking, he will call off the wedding. There is no way he could be seriously considering a country girl for queen! Look at you! Covered in filth! That is what you will bring to that throne. Filth!”

Sarea stepped closer to Gersa. So close the other woman had to take a step back.

“Better filth on the outside than filth on the inside. My filth can be washed away clean. Yours cannot.”

Sarea turned and walked away.

Gersa entered her rooms and slammed the door shut, screeching in rage. Her maidservants all cringed and tried to make themselves small. They knew what happened when these moods came upon their mistress. Abuse often followed her furies.

“That miserable, low born, scum dwelling little whore!”

Gersa went to her vanity and with another screech she cleared it of all of its contents with one sweep of her arms. Glass hit stone and shattered. Ceramic paint pots broke. The smell of heavy perfume filled the air.

“I’m going to finish her once and for all!”

She turned to her closest maidservant who jumped and cringed when she pointed to her.

“Get me a messenger. Not one of the castle pages. I want no one from the castle to be able to trace this back to me.”

“Yes my lady!” the maid squeaked before hurrying away.

Gersa went to her writing desk and pulled out a piece of vellum. She quickly wrote a message, then sealed it without using the house crest of her father. When the messenger arrived she handed the boy the sealed parchment and a small sack, heavy with coin.

“Take this to the third house on Solvers Row, the one with the little red crescent painted on the door. Give the man there the letter and the coin and tell him the rest will come once the job is done.”

“Yes my lady,” the messenger said with a short bow.

The messenger left and Gersa finally took a deep, calming breath. She looked around at the mess she had made.

“Well?!” she snapped at her maids. “Clean it up! I have to get ready for the masque.” She smiled slyly. “It promises to be quite the event. Positively
everyone
will be coming.”

Including, she thought with satisfaction, one of the cleverest assassins known to man.

Chapter Sixteen

Garrick found Sarea in her rooms later that night. He had to put up with Tyron’s ranting about problems concerning his people, his farmers and his lands, none of which was anywhere near as serious as dealing with the southlands was. Most of what Tyron was complaining about were things that affected his wealth, not so much the well being of his people. But Garrick made note of the problems and would deal with them accordingly. Among the complaints was a squabble over borders. Apparent Tyron thought a certain lake was part of his lands and properties and Lord Harrigut thought that the lake belonged to his lands which bordered Tyron’s. Tyron wanted Garrick to find in favor of his claim.

Garrick would have to consider this carefully. He wanted to be fair, so he would hear each man out about why they felt the lake was part of their property. He would not find summarily in Tyron’s favor just to make him happy, although Tyron was well aware that Garrick had been in appeasement mode ever since he had announced the marriage that would end Tyron’s daughter’s bid for queen once and for all.

Reports had filtered down to Garrick that neither of them, father or daughter, had taken the news calmly. Oh, they were barely polite to Garrick’s face, but behind their backs they made known their discontent and their opinion of his choice for bride. But Garrick had never been the sort of ruler to punish people just for having an opinion. However, if he heard either of them abuse Sarea to his face, he would take steps…no matter what the consequences. Tyron thought his power gave him the right to make demands and choices for the king. He thought to tame Garrick to his side. But one would think that over time Tyron would have learned that nothing could tame the lion.

Garrick was admitted to Sarea’s rooms by Fere, her handmaiden, and he walked in on the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld.

Sarea. As the sun. The dress was flowing and elegant, draping off her body in sweeps of golden and blue fabric. She held her mask in her hand, so he could see the delicate golden paint that had been put around her eyes, setting off their lustrous blue color. Her lips had also been painted gold, which he wasn't sure he liked. She had such a lush, pink mouth, ripe for the kissing. He would not have it hidden from view.

But still it suited her. Suited her costume. She was radiant and beautiful and he counted himself one of the luckiest men in the world. Garrick held out a hand to her and she took it, her fingers sporting a dusting of gold powder as well. They were warm, as the sun should be. She had forgone her virgin’s noose and had dressed all of her hair up. For Sarea it was a daring thing to do. The noose was all important to her.

Garrick looked forward to the day when she would no longer be able to wear it. Once it was unbound from its noose, he swore to make her wear her hair down and loose every single day. Or maybe he would have her put it up and leave it unbound only for him, in the privacy of their rooms. The thought warmed him. Heated him. If not for Isobol’s diligent chaperoning, he would have seduced her already, he was certain of it. His impatience getting the better of him. But he was glad of Isobol. It would make their wedding night that much more special.

He took his bride-to-be’s hand and turned her about for inspection. Her dress laced up in the back in the new fashion, allowing her neckline to be smooth and elegant and unblemished by ribbons or bows. His gaze lingered on the ripe swells of her breasts.

“Fere, my mask,” Sarea instructed. Fere came up and put the mask in her mistress, tying the ribbons in the back and leaving the golden ends streaming down Sarea’s back and shoulders.

“My sun,” Garrick said, his voice thick with pride and an all consuming need for her.

“My moon,” she said, referring to his own silvery costume and moon mask. His mask was simple silver and grey, the edges around the tops of his eyes smooth and round like the rising moon. He clothing was also silver. Breeches, shirt and vest. His boots were black and highly polished. He wore a silver medallion at the spot where his shirt gaped at his throat. It was his family crest. He would be giving her one exactly like it on their wedding day.

“Shall we attend our guests? I can hear the music from here.”

“Yes, the party should be well started by now.”

“What, started without the king? It will only truly begin once we arrive.”

“We must send ahead telling the dancers to stop and await their arrogant king,” she said with a smile.

“How beautifully bold you have become,” he said, bringing her wrist to his lips and kissing the sensitive inside of it.

“Shall we go?” she said.

When they entered the ballroom, it was to a great fanfare. The dancers all stopped and bowed to the king, they applauded their beautiful costumes. With heady excitement, Sarea took in all of the costumes and tried to guess at what many of them were. Isobol had come as a beautiful white cloud. Sarea’s parents had dressed as the Joyous One and his first concubine.

She saw many plants and trees and birds of all kinds of plumage. Some wore feathers that reached high above their heads.

Gersa arrived in a sweeping gown…representative of the sun.

Gersa came up to them and tittered at Sarea.

“It seems we had similar costumes in mind. Oh dear.”

And that was when Garrick knew the other woman had matched Sarea’s costume on purpose. She had hoped to outshine Sarea by depicting a better version of the sun. But, in Garrick’s mind, Sarea’s costume and the presence she brought to it far outshone the other woman. He only hoped that Sarea saw that as well.

“It seems that we did,” Sarea said to Gersa. “I hope you don’t mind being outdone.”

Gersa’s smile became fake, plastered on. Garrick could almost hear her teeth grinding. He was proud Sarea was holding her own against the wicked bitch.

“Of course not. I think we shine equally,” Gersa said. “But will the moon chase us both?”

“There is but one sun in this moon’s universe,” Garrick said, lifting Sarea’s wrist to his lips.

After two setdowns in under a minute, Gersa was no longer smiling…at first. Then she smiled a sly, troublesome smile, a genuine smile.

“Well then, one can only hope your sun continues to shine so brightly.” Gersa curtseyed and left them.

“That was oddly gracious of her,” Sarea said.

“Gersa is very good at acting the part of a decent creature when she wants to. It is questionable if she ever feels the part. Besides, she dare not insult you in my presence.”

“Then you should stay by my side at all times tonight,” Sarea said. “Keep me safe from her barbs.”

“I will be glad to.” He kissed her wrist again and this time something very private, and very hot, passed between them.

It was obvious to anyone watching how enamored the king was of his lady. She shone on his arm, clearly thriving in his company. And why not? He was the king after all, and she was just a country girl about to live the dream of country girls everywhere.

The music started again and Garrick took her hand and walked her out to the dance floor. Nerves clutched at her, but she tried to calm them. Garrick had spent the past two shona teaching her how to dance whenever he could. There were many kinds of dances. The line dances she felt were the most difficult. The waltzes the easiest. For those she only had to settle in his arms and let him swirl her about the floor.

To her relief the first dance was a waltz and he smiled knowingly at her.

“The second will be a waltz as well. I have arranged it so. Then you will have performed your two dances and may retire to the edges of the room. Unless, of course, I can coax you out to do more.”

“Let us get through these first, and then we will see.”

In the end it was a flawless, easy dance. She simply released herself into his capable hands and let him guide her. It felt beyond good to feel his arms around her. She felt that the dance was very suggestive of an intimate embrace and being so intimate out in public where everyone was watching made her self-conscious. It was perfectly socially acceptable, but still…she felt everyone was looking at her.

And she wasn't wrong about that. Everyone had their eye on the king and his soon to be bride. Some were picking flaws, shaking their heads in disdain that a woman of such low breeding should aspire so high. Others, and this was the majority, thought they looked like a fairy couple, full of magic and joy and love. For it had to be love, didn’t it? Why else would the king have chosen her above all other women in the kingdom? Certainly not for political import. Her father was merely a man of the Order. A small landowner. He had no power to speak of.

No. It must be love, they decided. It certainly looked like love. The king could not take his eyes from her. Nor his hands. As the night wore on she never made it more than a foot away from his hands before he was calling her back again.

Across the room, Gersa was impatiently fanning herself and glaring at the couple.

“Where is he?” she hissed to her father.

“What? Did you think he would do it here? In this room? In front of everyone? He is good at his craft because he knows how to do it without getting caught,” her father said. “He may not even do it tonight. He may decide this is too public a venue.”

“But I want it to be tonight! I want her to pay!”

“What you want is to be queen,” Tyron snapped sharply. “That is the goal. Keep it in mind. It does not matter how you get there, only that you get there.”

“But if we could send a message as well, it will keep other upstarts out of my way. Maybe others should think the king’s queens are destined to be cursed with death, a rumor I will happily start and circulate. Then you will see very few women wanting anything to do with the king.”

“And I will work on my end, as I always have, to maneuver the king into having no choice but to marry you. Once Veddig starts his war against the Vena, we will be needed more than ever. He will not dare to make me unhappy for fear of me walking away with my power and my soldiers…leaving him to hang. Our lands are in the northeast, well away from Veddig and his borders. In our agreement with Veddig he will take the Red Forest, the west, and the southlands, leaving the north and east and the city to me.”

“But this was under the understanding that I became queen and then murdered the king once I had his son in my belly. Why does Veddig attack the south already?”

“They are just minor raids. Enough to make the king nervous and on edge. And Veddig grows impatient. He has heard of this wedding and your failure and grows even more so.”

“You must make him see reason. Buy some time.”

“I am Vena. Veddig only tolerates speaking to me because he thinks it can get him somewhere. He knows how much power I have and that without my support the city would fall to the Umam.”

“Would you really let that happen?”

“No. I want the city for myself. And if you can’t marry your way into the monarchy then I am going to have to steal it for myself.”

“Give me time, Father!”

“You’ve had time!” he spat out. “Do you know how long it’s going to take for him to mourn the loss of her? Then you have to try and step in again? No, we must start taking steps to owning the city.”

“But I want to be queen!” Gersa cried.

“Keep your voice down!” he hissed when someone looked their way. “There now, there's a good girl,” he soothed her. “You will be queen. If we take the city I will force Garrick to wed you, play stud for you. Once you have his son in your belly and have blood linkage to the throne, we will get rid of him.”

“But what if I want to keep him? It makes more sense to keep him for more than one heir…just in case something happens to the first.”

“We will discuss that when the time comes. For now, we will wait for your man to do his job and get rid of that lowborn bitch.”

Gersa nodded and affixed her eyes to her target. She was seething, but the idea of what was to come greatly soothed her.

Sarea swept out of Garrick’s arms at the end of the last dance of the night and they went to the dais where the king thanked everyone for attending the masque.

“In two shona we will enjoy winter feast, and I…I will enjoy a feast of my own,” he said with a broad wink at Sarea. She colored under her golden paint and mask and was glad for both that hid it. The crowd in the ballroom chuckled and tittered. “The wedding will be held that morning, the crowning the day after, once the marriage has been consummated. “But first we will feast!”

The crowd cheered the king in a roar of approval. The winter feast was much looked forward to every yana. It was the last event until the midwinter games, and there were a few misra between now and then. But to have a wedding on top of the feast? It meant wine and food would flow in huge abundance. The people, both high and lowborn, did so love it when the wine and food flowed. The king would order wine be distributed in the city squares for all to enjoy. Much to his accountant’s dismay. But the city was rich enough to bear up under the celebration, and it wasn't every day that the king got married.

Garrick then kissed his pretty bride-to-be on the cheek and said to her, “I have matters of state I need to tend to. I’m afraid I must leave you.”

“This late?” she asked, looking over at Jesso and the other Trusted who were waiting with seeming impatience for the king. “What has happened?”