Reign of the eagle, p.166
Reign of the Eagle, page 166
“Thank you. I had a lovely childhood, up to a point. I had all sorts of music lessons, and my father would come every few weeks and tell me how marvelous I was. I got to meet all the great singers and actors of the capital.” There was a long pause, before Callista added, “But then....”
An even longer pause went by, and finally Elwyn asked, “But then, what?”
“I...I wanted to be like my father more than anything. When I was 14, I showed him some of my compositions.” Tears started rolling down Callista’s face. “He...he told me they were ‘pedestrian’ and ‘derivative.’ He heard me play and sing, and said I didn’t have the talent to bother with further lessons. Imagine that: the greatest composer of a generation telling you that you had no business being a musician.” Callista let out a long, shuddering sigh over her mug of ale. “Imagine your father saying that.”
Elwyn thought of all the unpleasant things her stepmother, Rohesia, had said to her over the years. She thought of her late father, King Edgar, and all the ways he had sometimes made her feel small and worthless. All those awful things he had said to her in anger that he had never said to her half-siblings, Edwin and Alice.
“I can completely imagine what that would be like,” she said, taking Callista’s hand and kissing it. “And I’m so sorry.”
They ordered another bottle, but they took it up to Elwyn’s room, where very soon they were in each other’s arms, and they had forgotten their families entirely.
PRINCE BRODERICK
In the distance, the Prince’s Palace looked as Broderick always remembered it. The gray, sober walls, all the columns, and the soaring dome against the shimmering blue of Lake Newlin. The air was still and cold, but the sun was bright, and daffodils bloomed along the roadsides as the royal party approached the city gates.
The knights there had Sigor livery, but that was only to be expected. The duke here was a Sigor—a cousin of Broderick’s, and of Elwyn’s. His grace, Duke Aldrick, was waiting under the gatehouse and raised his sword in salute.
“Your majesty,” he said, bowing to Broderick’s mother. “Your royal highness,” he said, nodding at Broderick.
He and his knights wore black armbands, not for Duchess Carrine of Severn, but for his mother, the dowager Duchess Cynthia, who had passed away earlier in the year. “A bad year for duchesses,” Broderick’s mother had called it, grinning over her wineglass in the carriage. A bad year for dukes, too: Karl Rode, Duke of Dunkelshire, had gone to the Light a few weeks before Duchess Cynthia. And poor Hildred Stenburg, daughter of the Duke of Keelshire, had died in childbirth, as well, this past year. And Edwin Barras, younger brother of Duke Roger of Pinshire, had died in battle just before the duke surrendered to Broderick’s father.
All of which showed that death came for everyone, no matter how lofty one’s title. And that was why this trip was so important to Broderick, his parents, and the kingdom. There had to be a clear line of succession. As Broderick’s mother kept reminding him, he needed a wife, and he needed to produce an heir.
He still didn’t think producing an heir with Elwyn Sigor would work out, though.
“I have a message for your majesty,” Duke Aldrick said, interrupting Broderick’s thoughts as they turned up East Marrethstryde toward the palace. He handed Broderick’s mother a letter.
She laughed, broke the seal, and glanced over it before handing it to Broderick.
It was from his Uncle Lukas, Duke of Severn. Broderick skipped past the pleasantries and found the meat of the matter pretty quickly:
I cannot imagine why neither you nor your son saw fit to attend the dedication of the memorial for Carrine. I know you never liked my wife, but common Ivich decency should tell you to honor the woman in death.
“Uncle Lukas seems...upset,” said Broderick, passing the letter to his mother again.
She was still laughing. “Yes, you and I certainly need lessons in Ivich morality from a man who has planted his seed in dozens of girls from Terminium to Flodmund. I’m so pleased he’s remembered his wife, now that she’s dead. Let’s give him something to really whine about.”
Broderick pondered this as they rode along through the straight, arcaded streets. Here and there, people gathered to wave little black Gramiren banners, and Broderick smiled and waved back at them. But for the most part, he was left to his thoughts. It seemed to him that his mother was trying to deliberately antagonize her brother, Duke Lukas. And yet, the Gramiren family couldn’t possibly stay on the throne without the Ostensens’ soldiers and money.
If he married his cousin Elwyn, then Uncle Lukas would be furious. It might even start a new civil war in the south, in fact. There was no reason for it. No one needed a new war as the old one was ending. But the alternative to Elwyn was Anna Ostensen.
Broderick let out a little sigh.
The girl was...fine, as far as it went. Like Elwyn, she was a cousin, though on his mother’s side instead of his father’s. But he didn’t know her well, and he didn’t know how she felt about him. He didn’t like the idea of her being forced into something she hated. Something both of them would hate.
No, beyond that, there was a third possibility: Therese Halifax. She wasn’t an Ostensen, but she was from the south. And she was a cousin, too, though more distantly related than Elwyn and Anna. Was there some chance Uncle Lukas would see her as more acceptable than Elwyn? Broderick tried to think how to ask his mother, but before he could put it into words, they were at the massive Prince’s Palace, and he had to supervise the servants in putting their clothes away and stabling the horses.
The duke’s chamberlain said that Elwyn hadn’t arrived yet—thank Earstien! So, Broderick had time to walk out on the beach of Lake Newlin, behind the palace, and try to compose his thoughts again. But he’d no sooner started down the sand, than he was hailed by a slim little dark-haired girl. She was sitting on a blanket with a pile of books, but she jumped up and ran, smiling, to greet him.
“You’re Cousin Broderick!” she cried.
He mentally reviewed his family tree and made an educated guess. “And you’re...Lady Lily, aren’t you?”
“Naturally, your royal highness” she said, dropping into a low, formal curtsy—exactly like her dancing master had probably taught her.
“You’re out here reading?” he asked, casting about for a topic of conversation.
“Oh, yes! I’m going to Atherton this autumn, and I wanted to make sure I had the right texts.”
Broderick had been to Atherton, of course. He couldn’t resist the chance to look at her books and give her the benefit of his experience. “No, you don’t want this one,” he said, in his airiest tone. “The translation of Claudius is shockingly bad. But this one...,” he picked up another book, “is exactly what all the masters at Atherton use. Pay attention to the footnotes.”
“You must have been a very good student,” she said, wide-eyed.
“No, I was a terrible student. But I learned very quickly how to make work easier for myself.”
He promised to send her some of his old books, and he was about to help her with her Immani translation, when there was a sudden fanfare from the front gate. And then bugle calls from within the palace. The chapel bells started tolling, too.
Broderick carefully set down the book he was holding. “I’m sorry, but I think I should see what’s going on.”
What was going on was the arrival of the Sigor party from the Empire. Their procession was far more impressive than the one he had arrived with. First came a troop of Immani cavalry with blue and gold surcoats, followed by another company of Immani infantry, in their famous red tunics, carrying the gold eagle banners that were known and feared throughout the world.
Then came a dozen knights in Sigor livery, and a carriage done up in blue and silver. Not the livery of the Dukes of Newshire, but that of the Sigor kings—open and unafraid. Anywhere else in Myrcia, those surcoats would have made the men targets for slaughter. But here, behind a wall of Immani military might, they could show themselves openly.
The carriage stopped, and footmen rushed up to supply steps and to roll out a carpet. Broderick felt, rather than saw, his mother sidle up next to him. “Be kind, darling,” she whispered.
The door of the carriage creaked open, and two massive men-at-arms climbed down, their muscles straining against their Sigor surcoats, and the swords and bucklers and knives clattering. Broderick bowed to them, and—after a few seconds of frigid silence—they bowed back.
And finally, there she was, descending the carriage in a slim blue riding dress. Her dark hair was up in a blue hair net. A little crown of pale gold, set with diamonds, glittered on her brow.
Broderick’s heart nearly stopped. She was so lovely. He’d forgotten how lovely she was—how could he have forgotten this? Those blazing blue eyes. Those marble-hard cheekbones, like a sculptor would make.
She was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Except Therese, obviously, but that went without saying.
She turned her cold glare on him, like a blast of winter snow in spring. And then she smiled, like all the heat of summer at once. “Oh, Broderick!” She took his hand. “I’m so happy you’re here!”
ELWYN
He had a neatly-trimmed beard over his strong jaw, and he had let his brown hair grow longer. The look suited him. She hadn’t remembered that Broderick was quite this handsome, but then again, it had been nine years, and he had barely been a man then. What she did remember was how he had helped her and Rohesia, Edwin, and Alice escape from Wealdan Castle the day his father seized the throne. That was the last time they had actually seen each other. Lily Serrana had been with them, too. Strange to think that so much time had passed, and here they were again, almost like all those years of war had never happened.
She took his arm and they went up into the rotunda together. Servants had laid out food and drinks on big silver platters. Broderick took a mug of mulled cider, and Elwyn did the same. When she looked at him, he blushed and turned his head.
“He’s nervous,” she thought. “Nervous around me.” In fairness, a lot of people were, but when he blushed like that, she saw the little boy she had known.
She tried to put him at ease, asking about his trip from Formacaster. He told her it had been uneventful, then he asked about her journey.
“Nothing terribly exciting happened,” she said, though she glanced briefly at Callista.
“How are you liking Teperum?” he asked. “You just recently moved there, didn’t you?”
As if they had gone to the Empire by choice, and not because they were fleeing for their lives. As if they had chosen Teperum deliberately, and not because that was where the Immani Emperor had deigned to give them shelter. But she knew he was trying to be polite, so she answered politely.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Sir Presley Kemp arranged the move and found our new home, so everything went perfectly.”
“Ah, Sir Presley.” Broderick nodded. “My father always speaks very highly of him.”
Elwyn felt pretty sure his father would have executed Presley for treason if he’d had the chance, but again, Broderick was trying to be polite.
Conversation became easier when they went out on the beach together, away from the courtiers, and talked about old times. “Do you remember when you tried to teach me the Mt. Nellis Reel in Severn?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I ended up kicking you in the balls. I’m not sure if I’ve ever said ‘sorry’ for that, but if I haven’t, then I do apologize.”
“As I recall, that was my fault. I accidentally grabbed your, um...chest.”
“That was probably very impressive for you. Your hands were a lot smaller back then.”
They both laughed, and they talked about the days at court before the civil war, carefully avoiding any mention of people who had died. Or of Rohesia’s brother, the Earl of Hyrne, who was still rotting in the Wealdan Castle dungeon at that very moment. Then a bell rang, summoning them in for some sort of musical entertainment.
That afternoon, while everyone was bathing and napping before supper, Callista slipped into Elwyn’s room, and Elwyn told her about her conversation with Broderick.
“It sounds as if you like him,” the Immani spy said, grinning, as she started unlacing Elwyn’s bodice.
Elwyn sighed. “I’ve liked him for years. I’ve just never wanted to marry him. Especially not now.”
Callista put a hand up Elwyn’s dress. “Because of me?”
“No. Because it would destroy Edwin’s claim to the.... Oh, Earstien. Do that again.”
She did, and then she did some other things that were even more pleasant, all while they slowly removed each other’s clothes.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and the girls had to race to make themselves presentable. Elwyn was almost decent again when the door swung open, revealing Legate Talius and her cousin Aldrick Sigor, Duke of Newshire.
“Um...Callista here was helping me dress,” said Elwyn quickly, as she finished lacing her bodice.
“H’m...I see,” said the duke. “Right. I needed to, um...send some messages. Miss Callista, could I have a word with you?”
Callista didn’t usually blush, but her face was growing pink as she stepped out into the hall with the duke. The legate shut the door after them and cleared his throat. And then he shuffled his feet. Then cleared his throat again.
“Your royal highness, I was fully aware of your...um, reputation. I assumed the stories I heard were gross exaggerations spread by your family’s enemies.”
Elwyn crossed her arms and glared defiantly at him. “I hope you’re not expecting me to apologize.”
“A great deal of effort has been expended in preparing for this meeting between you and the prince. Not only by me, but by your family and the Gramirens. Not to mention the family of my son-in-law, Lord Pedr Byrne.”
“Duchess Flora is involved in this, too? I might have known. You can tell that bitch from both me and my stepmother that—”
“Do you not understand that once your betrothal is formalized, there will be a fatal rift between Severn and the Gramiren king? Then, under the auspices of the Byrne family, we will negotiate a treaty with the disaffected Ostensen clan, which will allow—”
“So, not only are we going to trust Duchess Flora again, we’re going to trust Duke Lukas, too? Are you completely mad?”
“A great many people are counting on you, your royal highness. Would it really be too much to ask that you keep your clothes on for a few days?”
“I don’t know. I can’t make any promises. You never know when I might start blowing the footmen in the middle of supper.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he said gravely. “But please try to behave with some measure of decorum. Please.”
After that, Callista was moved to another room in an entirely different wing of the palace, which annoyed Elwyn so much that she barely spoke to anyone all evening. She had trouble sleeping, too, and eventually went out to walk on the beach as the sun came up.
She was about to head back in, when a small, brown-haired girl came out of the library with a book under one arm and a blanket under the other. She was trying to spread the blanket on the sand without having to put the book down first, and a slight wind over the lake was making things difficult for her. So Elwyn went over and lent a hand.
“You’re Cousin Elwyn, aren’t you?” said the girl, after thanking her for the help. She put out her hand. “I’m Lily.”
The name took Elwyn aback for a second. Then she rallied and shook the girl’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ve heard all sorts of stories about you.”
“Oh?” Elwyn cringed. “Um...what sort of stories?”
“I’ve heard how you saved your brother’s life at Leornian and Pinburg and a dozen other times, and how you saved him from an assassin in Sahasra Deva.” The girl’s eyes were wide with admiration. “Did all that really happen?”
“It might be exaggerated a bit. I only did what any sister would do for her brother, I imagine.”
Lily leaned forward, resting her head on her arms. “I’ve always wished I could do something like that for my brothers. Not that I want them to be in danger, of course.” She looked up. “And they annoy me sometimes.”
“Yes, brothers will do that,” Elwyn said, nodding. She let out a long sigh and thought of Edwin. She still hadn’t decided whether she was going to forgive him for sending her on this stupid trip, but she was starting to feel that she probably would.
“Lily?” A man’s voice came out from the library. “Lily, what are you doing out here?” Another of the big glass doors swung open, and Aldrick Sigor, Duke of Newshire looked out.
“Hi, Papa!” cried the girl. “I was talking to Cousin Elwyn.”
His face flushed as he looked from Lily to Elwyn, and back again. Then, with a forced smile, he said, “My dear girl, your governess is looking for you. And the princess is a very busy woman. You mustn’t take up too much of her time.”
Elwyn helped Lily fold the blanket, and the girl went back inside with her book. The duke put out a hand to stop Elwyn, though. “Just a moment,” he said in a low voice. He waited until Lily was out of earshot before continuing. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to stay away from my daughter.”
“Are you...,” Elwyn gasped. “Are you suggesting that I would...?”
“I don’t know what you’d do, and I don’t care. But I know what I saw up in your room, and we all know the stories. I would prefer that Lily not be mentioned in any of them.”
“Go fuck yourself straight to the Void,” said Elwyn, pushing past him and into the palace. She stormed upstairs and went to find where Callista was staying now.
After a frantic, vigorous tumble in bed, when they stopped to catch their breath, the Emissaria observed, “You really seemed to need to take out your frustrations. Even more so than usual, I mean.”
Elwyn told her what Duke Aldrick had said, and as she related the conversation, she started getting angry all over again.
