Chapter Eleven

  Though it was rude to do so, I stared gaped mouth at the ambassador. He, in turn, stared past me and at Johai. I swiveled my head around. Johai had his arms folded over his chest.

  “Do you have nothing to say to your grandfather?” the ambassador said to him.

  The air in the room crackled with tension. “I don’t have a grandfather,” Johai replied.

  The ambassador’s expression was stoic, but I could feel his anger rolling off him like the tide. “I see,” he said.

  Johai turned stiffly towards Damara. “Please excuse me.” Johai walked past the ambassador, gave the queen a parting bow, and left. I watched the proceedings with my mouth hanging like a slacked-jawed fool. Damara came to my side.

  “My lord,” she addressed the ambassador, “I apologize for Johai’s manner.” She smiled without further explanation.

  My thoughts were in a jumble. Damara had invited Johai’s grandfather, a Jerauchian ambassador, to a secret rendezvous with the queen. What did it mean? Who was Johai?

  “It matters not. There are greater things at stake than the hurt feelings of a young man. Shall we?” He strode across the room towards a second door in the back. Hilliard waited there, holding it open. I met his gaze, but his expression gave nothing away.

  The queen rose and exited, followed by the ambassador, leaving only Damara, Hilliard and I.

  Damara turned to me. “Maea, will you go after Johai?”

  I glanced once more towards the door. This meeting was important. I wanted to know more, but I also knew there was no arguing with Damara on this. She had never intended for me to know what they were plotting.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  She patted me on the cheek before turning and heading out of the room. The door shut, leaving me alone once more. How was the ambassador involved in their plot to change the succession? I would much rather have stayed and tried to overhear their plotting, but I knew Damara would be careful now that she knew I was about. I took back my doubts. I was certain now she was just as vested as any of them.

  With no other choice, I left to find Johai. It did not take long to find him. I discovered him in the first place I thought to look, the library. I was startled to see him sitting there in the dim light. I did not think to find him so quickly. The sconces on the walls burned low, and long shadows cast upon the walls. He sat by a window, a book open on his lap, but he looked out the window unto the blue-black sky. A few stars twinkled beyond, but no moon lent any light.

  He spoke as I entered. “She sent you to fetch me, how ironic.”

  I stopped in the doorway, unsure of what to say. I was tempted to confront him, to ask him why he had done what he had to me, but his next words halted my tongue.

  He gazed out the window as he spoke. “He never recognized me before today. Not until I became useful to him.”

  “Then he is your grandfather?” I asked.

  He sighed and closed his book, then set it on a table nearby. “Yes, my mother’s father. She was also just a tool to him, and now he is the ambassador. Good for him.”

  After everything I knew, everything I was certain he had done, I should have despised him. I should have confronted him despite his moment of weakness, but I did not. I empathized with him because I, too, was a pawn in someone else’s game, and the deeper I got, the more unsure I was of who moved the pieces.

  I took a few tentative steps towards him. “Johai, who are you, really?”

  He whipped his head towards me, and his blue eyes bore through me. I met his gaze and tried to see past his prickly demeanor to see the hurt boy I suspected lay underneath. The little boy from Adair’s dreams stared back at me, hair the color of spun gold and large, sapphire eyes.

  “It was you!” I said. “You fell the day the Neaux attacked.”

  He jumped to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He stopped and watched me. A shadow fell over his face, and it made him look gaunt and frightening. I took a step back.

  “That boy is dead; forget you ever saw him.”

  Johai stormed out and left me alone with my tumultuous thoughts. I thought that boy had died, or I had assumed as much, but I knew now the third boy from Adair’s vision was Johai.

  What had happened to him that day? I wondered why he hated his grandfather, his mother’s father. His mother, what happened to her? I knew the fate of his father, but I never stopped to consider his mother. Mayhap I had misjudged him and he was that sad little boy, used and left behind.

  I shook my head. Why did I care? Even if he was, he and Damara were trying to use me. My heart did not agree. Perhaps somewhere in my missing past Johai had cared for me. I was willing to admit that much, but it did not change their betrayal. The diviner had said once I knew the truth, all would be revealed, and yet I was just as confused as the day I arrived in Keisan. I thought I knew the truth, but maybe I had been wrong. I had no evidence to support my theories, only my assumptions. My head felt like to split in two from a roaring headache. I sat down in a nearby chair and cradled my head in my hands. What if I never got my memories back, what then?

  The air turned cool and held the sweet smell of coming fall. No new revelations about my past had been forthcoming, and Damara and Johai had been strangely accommodating and liberal with my freedoms. Johai never mentioned our conversation that night, and I gave him a wide berth, fearing incurring his wrath.

  As per the plan, I continued to perform readings chosen at Damara’s discretion. There was no discernible pattern to them; nobles and merchants, Damara accepted them both.

  After the readings, Damara would call me into the study, where she would request a detailed report on what had transpired. I did not ask questions, though I wondered what she was after. She never asked about what I saw in the visions, only about the person. How they treated me, did their servants seem well cared for, was there anything of note in their chambers, and other strange things that I could not wrap my head around. I recited it all for her, playing at the obedient charge, just biding my time until I would be free.

  The time seemed to fly, and my service to Sabine was a great balm. I watched her as she drew her crimson needle through the white linen. Droplets of red bloomed on the fabric like blood. I watched, mesmerized, as she methodically tugged and pierced the linen.

  Sabine set aside her embroidery. “I must be incredibly dull.”

  I shook off my reverie. “Not at all, you have a gift for that.”

  She glanced down at her embroidery. The cascade of crimson petals she had designed was stunning. It would look wonderful on an oak table once it was finished. “These are simple domestic things. It is nothing special. I’m expected to be skilled at them.”

  “I still think it beautiful,” I replied. I picked up my own crooked embroidery and sighed.

  “If you are bored, we could go out?” Sabine’s eyes darted to the corner where her guard Beau hovered, his hand over his sword. His ominous presence never seemed to leave her side. I often wondered if he ever slept. The pair of them shared a look.

  “Perhaps, it has been a while since I’ve gone to the Hall of Entertainment,” I said.

  “If you like, we could go there and perhaps play a hand of cards?”

  I smiled at Sabine’s coy suggestion. “It sounds delightful.”

  With that decided, we headed to the Hall of Entertainment, our full entourage in tow. Earvin and Beau trailed furthest behind, competing for deepest scowl and lack of expression. The ladies Thelron followed behind Sabine and I, who took the lead.

  The Hall was emptier than I had recalled upon my last visit. A few groups lounged scattered about. In the far corner, Great Lady Hana and a cluster of Jerauchians spoke in hushed tones. I did not see the ambassador among them, for which I was grateful. I am not sure I could face him, not after our initial introduction.

  Along the periphery of their group, an older man I had not seen before hovered. He wor
e a crimson robe tied at the waist with a white sash; around his neck hung a gold pendant on a long chain. Our eyes met, yet it felt as if he saw deeper than the surface. It was as if he were sifting through my mind. I tried to pull my gaze away, but he kept me locked in place. A steady drumming filled my ears, and my vision narrowed onto him and only him.

  At his right shoulder, I could see a looming shadow, much taller than him. It was mad to think so, but it was if the shadow looked at me.

  “Maea!” Sabine shouted my name. The drumming stopped, and my vision cleared.

  “Yes?” I said, turning my attention back to her.

  “I was calling your name. Is everything all right?”

  Earvin had drawn near to me, and his eyebrows pulled together in concern. I touched my temple, where a mild ache remained. I am no stranger to unexplained things, but the encounter rattled me. Something about the man seemed familiar.

  “It’s nothing. I was just dizzy for a moment.”

  I looked back, and the man chatted pleasantly with Great Lady Hana. She smiled and tossed her golden mane. I suppressed a scowl that I threatened to shoot in Great Lady Hana’s direction.

  “My lady, you should sit,” Earvin said without inflection.

  I peeked over at the man, and he ignored me. It was as if I had imagined the entire thing. Even the shadow was gone. I acquiesced to Sabine’s and Earvin’s pleading. We found a table across the room with a cool breeze. Sabine dealt a hand for us to play, and for a time, I forgot about the strange man. However, my eyes did drift back in his direction on occasion.

  I was not surprised when a group of young men entered the Hall, among them, Adair and Jon. I tried to catch Adair’s eye, but he went straight for Great Lady Hana’s party. Sabine must have noticed because she reached across and rested her hand over mine. I slid my hand out from underneath hers and laid my cards upon the table.

  “I fold this round.”

  Sabine appeared to be preparing a retort, but Jon approached us and saved me from unwanted consolation. “Princess Sabine, Lady Maea, Ladies Thelron, well met.”

  We nodded our heads in acknowledgment as he drew up a chair to sit at our table.

  “What a fine day to see you ladies out in your entire splendor,” he remarked.

  “Sir Sixton is very kind,” Sabine said.

  “’Tis only the truth.” He smiled. “Lady Maea, have you seen any good fortunes for my future?”

  “Does my lord wish me to perform a reading?” The title I added as a courtesy; he held no real title.

  “Yes, I would have you read my palm and tell me where I might find true love.”

  Odell sniggered, and Sabine shot her a warning glance. She shrunk down in her seat.

  “I’m sorry, my lord, I’m not a palm-reader.”

  “Ah, then, what is it that you do?”

  “She sees into men’s hearts,” Adair said, having just approached from behind. I whirled in my seat to see him smirking down at me. “Maea.”

  Jon rose to bow to Adair. “Your Majesty, I meant no offense, but you’ve made quite a name of this young woman, who no one seems to know anything about.”

  “Perhaps if you want to know more, you should consign her yourself, Jon.”

  They measured one another for a moment, and I feared I would witness another brawl in the Hall of Entertainment. “Perhaps I will. Miladies.” He bowed to us and took his leave. I watched him go, wondering what game he played. It was Adair that had introduced us, and I thought they were companions.

  “I’m not one to idle in conversation, perhaps if we had something to do with our hands while we chatted.” A few of the scattered courtiers had drawn closer and laughed at his jest. I blushed at the insinuation, but Sabine remained composed.

  “Will you join us, Prince?” Sabine motioned to the empty seat. I envied her composure.

  I could not help but glance over towards Great Lady Hana. She had a pout upon her lip, which pleased me to see. I smiled to myself.

  “I’ve never been good at games of chance. I am willing to play, however.” He raised a brow towards Sabine. She met his gaze, and over her shoulder, I saw Beau take a step forward, a hand at his hip, hovering over his short sword.

  She set her cards aside. “On second thought, I’ve had my fill of games for today.”

  He laughed and then turned to me. “And you, Maea?”

  “I don’t know many games…” I glanced sidelong at Sabine, who looked between Adair and me with an odd expression.

  “I will teach you, then. Have you ever played chess?” He motioned to the same inlaid board I had played on with Hilliard.

  “Only a few times.” That I can remember, I added silently.

  “Then you will join me in a game?”

  Glancing towards Sabine, who I was supposed to be attending, she gave me a dismissive wave, and I took a seat across from Adair at the chess table. As he set the board, I watched him place the pieces along the table with nimble fingers. The white pieces were set before me, and I was to move first. Choosing a pawn, I slid it forward.

  “Chess is a bit like running a kingdom,” Adair remarked as he moved his knight forward.

  “Oh?”

  “Sacrifice, cunning, one must have these things to rule. Wouldn’t you say, Sabine?” he called to her.

  She looked over with a benign smile. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know.”

  Adair smirked, surveying the board like a seasoned general. He had been to battle, I recalled. It was strange to think of him that way. I thought of my vision, the dying men, and tried not to associate Adair with such an image.

  “And compassion, I would think,” I said, making my next move.

  He moved his knight. “I disagree. Let me ask you this: do you feel compassion for the pieces upon the board?”

  I looked at my arrayed pieces. “No, but you can hardly relate humans to carved pieces upon a board.”

  “But they are one and the same, don’t you see?” I shook my head, and he continued, “I’ll give you an example. With war, as the one against Neaux, the rulers were faced with difficult decisions. King Dallin had hard choices to make and certain sacrifices to take into consideration… Leaders cannot take into account the humanity of every soldier; they cannot think, this man I send to die, he may have a wife at home waiting or a son and a daughter. They must be ruthless; without doubt they send hundreds to their certain deaths because it is for the greater good.” He took my rook with cruel taciturnity.

  “A morbid thought,” I replied. From what I had seen of war, I knew if it were me, I could not make the choice. “But I have to disagree. Avoiding loss of life should be paramount no matter how insignificant or grand the ambition.”

  Adair regarded the board, his chin cupped by thumb and forefinger. “I can see your point, Maea. You will be a valued advisor, I am sure.”

  I let his words hang on the air between us. Had I understood the implication? Was he promising me a position among his advisors once he was king? My spirits dropped. That could be years from now. King Dallin was still hale, and I needed to be free of Damara and Johai soon, or I might lose myself entirely.

  I stared at the pawn on the board. I am just like you, I thought.

  I cleared my throat to break the silence. “As I see it, it seems it would be difficult to be king. To bear the weight of an entire country upon your shoulders, is any choice really your own?”

  His eyes widened as he looked at me. “No, not really.”

  I glanced over towards Great Lady Hana. She watched us play with narrowed eyes.

  His eyes flickered over to her as well. Their eyes met, and he waved to her. She waved back with a bright smile. He turned back to me and said, “I’m not going to marry her.”

  I choked on my surprise. “I never thought you would.”

  He laughed sharply. “Your relief is all over your face.” He brushed a stray hair from my face. “My uncle declined their offer. They are not nearly powerful enough for Danhad to align ourselves
with.”

  I did not deny it. “I see,” I said and tried to hide my pleased smile.

  “He will choose for me, in the end, and I’ve always known that.”

  My stomach dropped, but I tried to keep my expression neutral. Whom Adair married was none of my concern. “That makes sense.”

  He leaned in close, and I could feel his warm breath fan across my cheek. “If it were my right to choose, I think it would be a woman like you that I would wed,” he whispered.

  Crimson flooded my cheeks, and I could not meet his eyes.

  He laughed again and declared, “Check.”

  Shrugging off my embarrassment, I stared at the board in shock. “That was a dirty trick!”

  He leaned across the table once more and whispered in my ear, “Who said it was a trick? I would like to marry a girl like you, Maea.”

  I did not think it was possible, but it felt as if my skin flushed all over my entire body.

  Adair laughed again, louder yet, and drew a suspicious eye from Sabine. I smiled back at her, and she returned to chatting with the ladies Thelron. He jested, I knew. I was no one, most certainly not a bride for a future king. Deep down, however, I liked the idea as much as I hated to admit it and as silly as I was being.

  He stood and offered me his hand, which I took hesitantly, all too aware of the eyes on me around the room. A servant in royal livery manifested at his shoulder, and Adair bent his head down to him. I could hear the urgency in the servant’s tone but could not decipher the words. I did note the emblem on his breast was different from the usual royal livery. There was still the silver tree but encircled, like the pins I had seen the men around Adair wearing.

  “I’m sorry, Maea, something has come up, and I must cut our afternoon short.” He bowed and then hurried out of the room.

  I glanced up after he left. The man stared past me and towards Earvin, who stared back, arms crossed over his chest. He noticed me watching, smiled, and nodded his head in acknowledgement. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a shadow hovering over his shoulder, but when I blinked, it disappeared.