The twice cursed serpent, p.11
The Twice-Cursed Serpent, page 11
Chapter nine
A few days after the ball, Caes received the expected summons from Sabine. Of course—she’d want to see what Caes thought of Lady Flyntinia’s offer. It was too much to hope that Lady Flyntinia had become disillusioned with her after their meeting—Caes was never that lucky
Thus, Caes prepared herself to hear talk bordering on treason.
What she did not expect was to design Sabine’s wardrobe.
“What do you think of this one, Caes?” Sabine asked, placing a fabric swatch on the table in front of Caes. “It’s part of the latest shipment from Ardinan.” Caes dutifully inspected the piece of plum-colored fabric, holding it up to the light and turning it to various angles. “Speak truthfully,” Sabine said, apparently noticing something in Caes’s face.
“I think you may regret the sheen,” Caes said candidly. Two young maids in the corner, little more than girls, tittered. Great. As if she didn’t have enough to do, she had to deal with the mockery of children. The two girls wore the latest style in costly fabrics—they were not mere servants, for all they stood at attention.
Sabine frowned and flicked her wrist at the girls. “Out,” Sabine snapped. “I’ll call you back when you learn some manners.”
The girls left, but not before giving Caes snide backwards glances. “I’m sorry about them,” Sabine said after the girls left the room. “I hate that I have to keep them.”
“Why do you?”
“Tradition. And certain families pay my husband quite a bit for the privilege.”
Caes nodded. “In Ardinan they do something similar, but only members of the royal family host such well-born wards. It’s the only acceptable way for girls that age to be at court. Ones who are not in the immediate royal family, that is.”
“Oh, it’s not quite so strict here. But being in my service—if the nuisance they cause can be called that—does give the girls a certain...qualification they might not have had otherwise, whether I am a foreign-born hag or not.” Sabine smiled at Caes mischievously. Despite her penchant for political plots—and for getting Caes involved with them—it was hard not to like Sabine. “Tell me” —Sabine tapped the table— “tell me why you don’t like the fabric.”
“What event is this dress to be for?”
“Oh, nothing in particular, yet. I have a feeling there will be several functions this year that I’ll need something special for, since we...” Sabine trailed off, a rosy tint emerging on her cheeks.
“It’s alright,” Caes said, guessing, from what she had heard at court, just what the functions were. The emperor was appointing a new governor of Ardinan—the Ardinani royal family having been reduced to a figurehead—which meant there were going to be multiple ceremonies marking his departure. Though, it satisfied Caes more than a little that Queen Viessa’s attempt to keep her family in power had failed miserably. “I know Ardinan was conquered,” Caes said. “No need to hide it from me.”
Sabine nodded. “Still. Bad form.” Sabine took a short breath. “There will be balls with Ardinani diplomats, besides representatives from other kingdoms. My husband’s mother sent me a reminder this morning to be prepared, with a small book of pattern suggestions.” Sabine said the last part like she had been given a recommendation for cooking liver.
Caes inspected the fabric. “This is only my opinion, but I tend to be wary of this kind of fabric.”
“Go on.”
“If you spill anything—and I mean anything—there will be a dark splotch on your gown the rest of the evening and it will not come out.”
Sabine erupted into light musical laughter. “That’s why I’m glad I asked you,” Sabine said, covering her mouth with her hand. “Everyone else would have cared about the color—here you gave me advice I can actually use.”
“The color would be lovely on you,” Caes said sincerely.
“Hmm...maybe.” Sabine reached into the book, unattached a light blue swatch, and set it on the table. “What do you think of this one?”
“Beautiful. It will compliment your hair. With a white lace accent too?”
Sabine grinned. “We don’t wear white lace much here—but maybe that should change.” Sabine took back the swatch and set it on a small pile of other fabrics she had already chosen. “I wonder what Prince Desmin is going to think of this when he arrives.”
The blood drained from Caes’s face. There had to be a mistake. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Prince Desmin. Oh” —Sabine noted Caes’s expression— “did you know him?”
“He” —Caes covered her mouth and coughed— “he was my intended.”
Sabine’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. Oh no.” She reached out and grabbed Caes’s hand, still holding the book. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was him.”
“It’s alright. I doubt you had anything to do with him coming here.”
“Not at all,” Sabine said sternly. “I would have told you right away had I known…about your relationship.”
Caes nodded and Sabine let go of Caes’s hands. “Can I ask why he’s coming here?”
“Of course. He’s to be our hostage, for the Ardinani royal family’s good behavior. He will be here next week.”
“Oh.”
Sabine’s features softened. “You won’t have to see him much, if at all. He won’t be anywhere around you.”
“Except at the same court,” Caes said softly.
Sabine nodded reluctantly. “How did it end?” Sabine asked. “Do you still love him?”
“No!” Caes exclaimed, making Sabine startle. “No,” she said quieter. “I’m sorry, Sabine. It’s just...a lot.”
“Of course. That must have been heartbreaking.”
It was worse than mere heartbreak. The fire of the lashes, the turmoil of betrayal, her spirit crushed with the court’s laughter as Desmin auctioned her off himself. The way he ignored her cries for mercy. But that wasn’t something she was going to tell Sabine anytime soon. Or anyone.
“Tell me,” Sabine asked, “are things better for you now? As far as the Malithian court is concerned.”
Caes stiffened. Was she asking in general, or about Lady Flyntinia’s offer? “Things are...close to the same. I have little to complain of.”
Sabine made a short humming sound as if she expected as much.
“I have different Soul Carvers each day,” Caes said, desperate to talk about something other than Desmin and Lady Flyntinia. “Is there a reason why they keep changing? Other than boredom.”
Sabine shrugged. “Keeping track of a Soul Carver is like trying to keep watch on a butterfly on a windy field. Who knows where the emperor wants them or what they decide to do?” Sabine peered at Caes. “Why? Is there someone you don’t want to see again?”
Most of them.
“No—I was just curious.”
Sabine set the book down and gave Caes her full attention. “Bide your time, my friend. Things will get better.” Sabine lowered her voice. “Have you given any consideration to Lady Flyntinia’s offer?”
There it was—the real reason for her invitation. Caes paused, having rehearsed this scene several times. And now, she forgot what she had planned to say. “I have...concerns, Sabine. My position here is new.”
“Ah—you’re worried about treason. Why, there’s no reason to be concerned about that.”
“How…how could this not be treason?”
“Because we’re not doing a single thing to upset the emperor’s rule,” Sabine explained in a matter-of-fact voice. “You must understand—in Malithia, heirs are not given their empire like a child gets midsummer presents. It must be earned. And my husband, as well as others, have decided Althain will make a better ruler than Seda. Though some stubbornly cling to legitimacy, as if that has ever been a guarantee of a capable ruler.” Sabine may not have been born in Malithia, but the fierceness in Sabine’s eyes indicated that she had made Malithia her home in every respect.
“Convince me, then,” Caes said. “Explain why I should risk myself for this bastard prince.”
“Oh, there’s no risk to you.”
“Unlikely.”
“The emperor expects Seda and Althain to have their last battle at court—many are expecting him to invoke the Idici Sors.”
“The what?”
Sabine flicked her wrist. “Never mind. It’s only a formal contest—which won’t be happening. To my point, you have nothing to lose by supporting us. Seda already wants you dead, and if she ever becomes empress, you will be. To the contrary, you have only to gain by supporting Althain.” Sabine rattled on like she was explaining that the sun was bright. Though, Caes had to admit she was already becoming aware of the benefits to an Emperor Althain instead of Empress Seda.
“Althain is a just man,” Sabine said. “Capable. Has the loyalty of the army. What does Seda do? Hurt helpless prisoners?” Sabine gave Caes a pointed look.
“And Seda doesn’t think that Althain is the person referenced in her prophecy?”
“No. Unlike you, Althain has had a rather comfortable life. The prophecy doesn’t fit.”
“Oh.” Caes paused. “What exactly am I going to be expected to do for Althain?”
“Nothing—not until he comes back from Ardinan.” Sabine registered the confusion on Caes’s face. “Don’t let Lady Flyntinia worry you. She’s a bit imposing, but she just wanted to have you prepared.”
“She succeeded.”
Sabine stared intently. “So, you will help us?”
Caes stared her fate in the face. “Yes.”
Sabine smiled and went back to her book, satisfied. Caes watched Sabine turn the pages, humming a little children’s tune.
What had Caes gotten herself into now?
Chapter ten
Seda sat on a padded chair in her sitting room, inspecting the man in front of her. Prince Desmin was what she expected from an Ardinani—slight stature, dull light brown hair, and dainty, smooth hands. He probably never held anything more than a ceremonial weapon. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t…like Gren. Then again, few were. But what Desmin lacked in looks, he made up for with a cunning gaze that made her invite him to her sitting room after his first formal audience with her father. From how Desmin was not afraid to interject himself into the conversation with the emperor, Seda guessed this man was not going to sit idly at their court and eat sugared snowberries. It was up to Seda to make sure that once he did decide to start being active in court politics, that it be in her favor.
“Your Highness,” Prince Desmin said, bowing and swirling his cape behind him with a flourish that made Seda want to roll her eyes. Pretentious bastard.
“Prince Desmin,” Seda said, “would you please have a seat?” She motioned to the chair on the other side of the small table in front of her. “I would like us to have a chance to talk before you are thrown to the court. Away from excess eyes.”
“Of course. Your Highness is kind.” Desmin took the seat, while his eyes barely left Seda. So, he was weighing her as much as she was weighing him. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as much of an idiot as he seemed.
“How are you finding Malithia?”
“Cold.”
Seda smiled, amused. “Even now? It’s summer. Or is Ardinani blood really as thin as they say?”
“More like Malithian blood is almost too thick to flow.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Seda burst out laughing and moved to fill their wine goblets. “Thank the goddess—here I feared Ardinan would send another cowering simpleton to our court.”
“I may be many things, but I’ve never been called a ‘simpleton.’”
“No, I imagine not.” Would he take the bait and ask after Caesonia? Multiple courtiers had told her the two of them had been engaged, and Seda wanted to test what feelings remained. For the empire’s sake, the prince needed to be kept alive and well—a hazard of keeping a conquered kingdom under control. But that didn’t mean that Seda needed to be friendly to him—someone could be kept alive and well in a dungeon, after all.
When Desmin did not offer anything in reply, Seda launched into another topic. “Tell me, what do they do in Ardinan during the summer?”
“Oh, I imagine it’s much the same as it is at any other court.” With that, Desmin and Seda jumped into a light discussion on what their courts did to pass the time. Drinking, gambling, debauchery—the two courts had that in common, at least. While they spoke, Seda admired that Desmin had a quick tongue and was not afraid to say what he thought—respectfully, of course. She had to be careful, or she’d find she was starting to like him.
After they spoke for a while, Seda decided she was going to have to broach the unpleasant topic herself. “You know, we have another Ardinani subject here. Caesonia.”
Desmin’s face froze. Oh yes, they knew each other.
“She is no subject of Ardinan,” Desmin said, gripping his goblet hard.
“You know her well, then?”
Desmin set the goblet down. “You’re not stupid, Your Highness. We both know you’re aware of our prior relationship.”
“Forgive me,” Seda said, refilling their wine goblets. “It’s a sensitive topic—yet I could not avoid curiosity.”
Desmin snorted and took a long drink.
“I met her, you know,” Seda said. “She irritates me.”
Desmin set his now-empty goblet back on the table. “Irritates? Rumor is you’re obsessed with her.” Seda’s temper flared and she clenched her fist. A gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. Desmin smirked and leaned back in his chair. “What could she have done to you?”
“What did she do to you?”
Desmin’s eyes darkened. “That was different.”
“Is it?”
The two of them stared at each other. Yes, she did want this prince on her side. Anyone that hated her enemy this much could only be beneficial. And to win him over, she was going to have to be honest.
“Believe it or not, Prince Desmin, your former intended could undermine my claim for the throne.” Seda explained to Desmin the prophecy and why she believed Caesonia was the one it referred to, all while Desmin helped himself to more and more wine. Seda was not one to vent her weaknesses to those she didn’t know, but she gambled that the truth might make Desmin an ally. “Now, as the one who has assumed the curse, she could make things difficult for me. Especially when my bastard of a half-brother comes back to court.”
“Why would anyone believe her? Surely the court knows she’s a pawn.”
“The court is not who I’m worried about. What if she says something the temple decides is in their interest? And Malithians are superstitious—she could announce the world will crack next year and a not-insignificant number would believe her. Nothing is certain for a Malithian heir—especially not the crown.” Should she really be so candid with Desmin? Desmin could easily swing his allegiances. However, she was telling Desmin nothing the court didn’t already know, and by the time her brother returned she would have won Desmin over as completely as Gren. Besides, Althain was notoriously uptight, and would almost certainly not be willing to entertain Desmin—not like she would.
Desmin bit back a smile.
“You think this is funny?”
“No—not at all. I just think we have more in common than we thought.”
“Oh? Do tell.” It was Seda’s turn to fill her goblet again and drink.
“Oh, where to begin? Her father was a fraud.”
Seda almost choked on her wine. “What?” She coughed. “A fraud?”
Desmin nodded. “We found his sword—shattered like cheap metal. One of his companions admitted he had found the false hero practicing his magic at night—nothing but stage tricks. The worst part is that we found bottles of fire light in his bag.”
“Fire light?”
“From an Ardinani plant—it takes the right knowledge to prepare it, but if one drinks it, they glow. Like they have magic.” Desmin squeezed the arm of his chair so hard Seda could see his white skin taut against bone.
“A fraud. Does she know?”
“Of course, she did. There was no way he could’ve been so convincing without her help. She knows much about plants. I’m sure she helped her father create the fire light.”
Doubtful. Mainly because the Ardinani didn’t seem to have it in her to be that good of an actress. She decided to keep those thoughts to herself for now. “So, you hate her for lying?”
“Yes.” Desmin’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know what cult she has created in Ardinan, by people thinking her family is holy? We had to go to great lengths at court to show everyone that the goddess would not interfere for her. That she was a fraud. We couldn’t find her father’s body—which only created more rumors.”
“What? You think he is alive?” That could be a complication.
Desmin rubbed his temple. “Unlikely. But it’s something we have had to consider—he was a coward and may have run away. We were hoping that if her father heard of how she was being treated in Ardinan that might have drawn him out so we could take care of him for good—but nothing.”
Seda tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “That is a dilemma...I had wondered why you went through so much trouble to torment her. It seemed a bit drastic, for Ardinan. I had thought the people were angry at the failure.”
“That was the official reason, and we had several reasons of our own. I wanted more done to her—for lying to me. For lying to my family. There are still uprisings because of her. People are dying, because of her. My mother was toying with the idea of having her executed, if we hadn’t heard anything about Damek by the end of the year.”
“But we asked for her first,” Seda muttered. “My father wanted any focal point for an Ardinani rebellion to be well out of Ardinan.”
Desmin nodded. Seda considered this new information, playing with her bracelet. Desmin’s words made sense, but it seemed like there was more to Desmin’s anger. Was it pride? Humiliation? Seda would’ve felt sorry for Caesonia, if she didn’t have the potential to destroy her. But Seda had her own concerns—it was time to see if her gamble on Desmin had paid off.
