The Trouble With Kings

  My head hurt, my hand faltered, and a false note shocked me. I clutched the lute against me. Tears burned my eyes.

  I turned around, and dizziness made the room gently revolve.

  Jason disengaged the lute from my fingers and laid it aside. “Come. I will take you back. You had better resume your rest.”

  “All right. Why can’t I remember?” I whispered.

  Jason did not answer. He carried me back upstairs. I tried to feel whatever I was supposed to feel, but all I was aware of was headache. Jason didn’t speak as he set me on the bed, near which Netta waited, her face anxious.

  She covered me, and I didn’t hear Jason go out.

  When I woke, I was alone. The dizziness was gone; the blue curtains stayed still. The windows had been closed against rain. Near the bed someone had placed a side table on which rested a water pitcher, glass and an apple. Above hung a bell cord.

  Netta brought me a tray, stayed to watch me eat. Then she lit some candles, and left.

  I sat in bed with a glass of water in my hands, watching the candle light on it, not really thinking—until I realized I was seeing a face in the water.

  Water splashed onto my quilt as I jerked the glass up. I held it close to my eyes and shook it, but all I saw was the golden gleam that liquid and light make together.

  The headache crashed on me. Did I cry out? I dropped the glass and flopped back onto the pillows. Netta reappeared, and I heard her gasp. “My lady?”

  “Saw a face. In the glass,” I muttered, my eyes closed.

  “I-I’ll get another quilt.” Her voice shook.

  I lay where I was, not even feeling cold or wet. When the door opened, Netta entered, with Garian behind her.

  Garian came close, still dressed, the candle glow outlining him. “You experienced some sort of vision, I am to understand. Whose face?”

  “I don’t know. I think—” I rubbed my eyes, trying to remember. “Jason’s?”

  He took my shoulders. “Jason,” he repeated.

  I plucked ineffectively at his fingers. “I don’t know. Ow. That hurts.”

  “Your pardon.” He loosened his grasp. “I don’t want to find out that any evil mage hired by your father is trying to get at your mind.”

  “Evil? Mage?” I shuddered. “Oh, I hope not.”

  Garian straightened up. “Sleep.” To Netta, “Bring water when she needs it, then take it away again.”

  He left, I lay back down, and slid into dreams—but not for long.

  When I woke this time, it was from a cold breeze. One of the windows stood open. And outlined in front of it, a silhouette.

  I opened my mouth to scream as the figure dashed across the room. Before I got out much more than a squeak, a hand clapped over my mouth.

  “Don’t squawk, Flian. It’s only me.” It sounded like a young man.

  “Who’s that?” I tried to say, but it came out sounding like “Grmph?”

  The hand lifted, a tentative movement, and a male voice said, “I know I’m not much of a bargain in your eyes, but you have to realize by now that I’m preferable to them.”

  “Well, who are you?”

  I heard him draw in his breath. “You don’t recognize me? I’m Jaim.”

  “Jaim who? I ought to add that I managed to misplace my memory—”

  He stilled, profile outlined against the glass, then slid out the window and was gone.

  My door slammed open. One of the liveried men entered, his sword drawn, and behind him Netta, a lamp swinging in her hand.

  “My lady?” Netta gasped. “Did you cry out?”

  “He went out the window.” I pointed.

  The guard ran out, bent over the balcony rail, and peered in all directions. Then he ran back in and through the door, boots and weapons clattering, a contrast to Jaim’s silent step.

  Garian and Jason appeared, fully dressed, each carrying a weapon. Netta hadn’t been idle; the room was lit by then, and I had my nightcap off and shawl on.

  “Seems to be a night for excitement,” Garian commented, grinning. “Someone was here?”

  I shrugged. “Seems odd to me too. He said his name was Jaim.”

  “Damnation.” Garian sent a look at Jason, who did not react.

  Several more armed men appeared at the door, and Garian gave out commands for a search.

  When they were gone, Jason said, “It has to be Jaim. No one else could get past your guard. I trained him myself.” That last with a sort of wry smile.

  Garian opened his mouth, then glanced my way. They both did.

  Garian forced a hearty smile. “Go back to sleep. The, ah, thief will be apprehended. Not to worry.”

  “What did he want in here?” I asked. “Jewels?”

  Jason turned away, but not before I saw that he was on the verge of laughter.

  “What did Jaim say to you?” Garian asked.

  “Nothing that made any sense.”

  Jason’s stone face was back. “He’s an enemy of mine. No one for you to concern yourself with. Good night.”

  They left, and soon after I heard footsteps outside the door—a posted guard. Poor soul, I thought as Netta fussed about me. What a boring job.

  She offered to stay with me. I apologized for waking her and assured her that whatever guarding I needed could best be done by the fellow outside the door, and I lay back down.

  This time I made it all the way to morning without incident.

  After breakfast, Netta brought me a pale green silken underdress and fine, dark green cotton-wool gown that laced over it. In the corner was a cleaning frame; I did not feel like insisting on a bath, so I stepped through, and the magic sparked over me, leaving me fresh and clean.

  As I dressed and she combed out my hair, we chattered about little things: birdsong, the season. She told me about her daughter, who was a hairdresser.

  Once I was dressed I walked to the window, which opened onto a balcony. I stepped out into summery air, which was filled with the delicious scent of flowers and trees after a rain. My headache had receded to a distant throb, only nasty if I moved or turned quickly.

  Below the balcony lay a garden, which sloped away down a steep hill to a stone wall with sentries walking along it. Adjacent to me were the corners and towers of a fairly large castle. The rest of the mountain the castle was built on was hidden in forest and morning shadows. Above the castle, snowy peaks etched jagged tooth-shapes against the blue sky.

  Remembering my unknown visitor, I tried to figure his route: up a smooth, white-boled tree to the adjacent balcony, over the vine-covered wall to mine. Not an easy journey at night, in the rain.

  He must have had some fairly urgent purpose. And what was that about preferences?

  I remembered the mirror, then discovered that it had been taken out. I really must look terrible!

  I opened the door, found myself face to face with a huge man of determined mien.

  “Can you show me to the dining room?” I asked.

  “Prince’s orders are, you can’t negotiate the stairs.”

  “Oh, I can walk, I feel perfectly fine—except for this great bruise on my head. And I do really want to leave this room.”

  “I can carry you, my lady,” the man offered, his gaze lowered.

  “Well, I have no objection if you don’t.”

  And so the man picked me up and carried me down two flights of curving stone stairs, directly to a dining room. This room was long and narrow, made of stone, with a high ceiling. Halfway up the walls banners hung, new and old, a variety of colors and designs, none of which looked familiar to me. The table was long, with a short high table set perpendicular at the fireplace end. The room was cold, the fireplace bare. Despite the wall of tall diamond-paned windows that looked over a terrace, it was not a very inviting chamber; I couldn’t say why, since there was nothing ugly about it. But I misliked the atmosphere.

  The guard set me gently on my feet, and I heard Garian’s voice. “Good morning, Flian. How do you feel?
Essaying the rest of the house?”

  “I’m bored,” I admitted. “As for how I feel, I am fine—except for a pang here, if I move too quickly, but a slow walk takes care of that.” I touched the side of my head. “I wish you’d return the mirror. I can’t imagine that the sight of a black eye and a few bruises and scrapes will kill me—but it might jar my memory back.”

  “That’s exactly why we won’t.” He took my elbow and escorted me out again. “I consulted a healer. He said you might try so hard it will make your head feel worse, and your recovery will be twice as long.” He smiled. “I feel obliged to tell you that you’re somewhat, ah, stubborn, often preferring immediate gratification over sense.”

  I grimaced, resenting his words. I had to remind myself that he was my favorite cousin, and so we must have been honest with one another.

  “We usually eat in here.” He led me along another stone-floored corridor. “Less drafty than that blasted room, which I only use for formal occasions.”

  We entered the library I’d seen the day before. I looked around—but the lute was gone.

  Jason sat in one of the chairs, dressed much as he’d been the day before. He greeted me, I greeted him, and the conversation foundered there until servants came in bearing covered trays.

  Garian dismissed the servants. He prepared my plate first and served me himself, saying easily, “I’d propose a topic for conversation, but I suspect you won’t have much to contribute about the latest fashions or plays.”

  I gave a laugh at the joke, then sighed. “I apologize for being so boring. I bore myself, lying up in that room and not knowing what I ought to be doing.”

  “Resting.” Jason’s voice was flat.

  “He’s right.” Garian made an elaborate gesture to Jason to help himself.

  Jason looked over at the three trays of fresh food, some of it steaming invitingly, but all he took was a roll. He stood on the other side of the fireplace, tossing the bread up and down on his palm as he watched me eat. Garian shrugged, loaded a plate and sat in the chair opposite mine.

  For a time there was no sound but that of cutlery on porcelain and the snapping of the fire. I’d happily worked my way through braised chicken, rice-and-cabbage and a tart before Jason appeared to remember his bread, which he ate.

  Garian finished first, got up and went somewhere behind me. As I set my plate onto a side table, I felt warmth spread through me again, and the headache dissipated. I felt great. Maybe I could take a walk. Fresh air, I was certain, would thoroughly restore me.

  Then Garian appeared at my side with a small gilt-edged goblet. “Here. A sip of spiced wine.”

  “In the morning?” I made a face. Though I didn’t remember who I was or what my life had been like, this suggestion did not seem even remotely part of my habits.

  “Healer said it would be good for you. Get rid of the headache. Help you to sleep better.”

  “All right.”

  He pressed the cup into my hands, and I raised it to my lips. Over its rim I saw Jason’s pale blue eyes watching, their expression impossible to interpret.

  The wine, despite the cinnamon and other fine spices, had a bitter edge. I shuddered, then drank it all off in a quick gulp.

  “There.” I shivered again.

  Garian put his hands on his hips. “A comment on the quality of our Drath wine?”

  “Pardon.” I got to my feet and curtseyed. “I really wasn’t ready for wine in the morning.”

  “Never mind. I was teasing.” He held out his arm. “Shall I walk you back upstairs?”

  I rose. My head felt odd—light, almost. “I think—I fear I’d better.”

  It was a long journey, but Garian talked the entire time. Inconsequential chat, mostly, at least I found it increasingly difficult to focus on his words, which were about horses, and a ride, and the menu for dinner on the wedding day, and he really believed the dressmaker would have something for my inspection that evening.

  When we reached my room, I made for the nearest chair, which was set by the open balcony window. Garian bent, kissed my fingers with light, easy grace and departed.

  I don’t think I was aware of him going. I meant to look out at the whispering trees, but sank into sleep.

  Chapter Three

  Netta woke me. My neck ached, and my mouth was horribly dry.

  “Oh, my lady, are you well?”

  “I—” I swallowed, determined to say I was well, and what’s more, to be well. I had no idea what sort of person I’d been before, but right now I was very tired of being an invalid. “Yes. I am.”

  Netta smiled. “The gown is here. His highness sent me to seek your approval. He said any adjustments can be made by morning.”

  “That’s all-night work.” I rose, no longer bothering to wonder how I knew that. “If you see the seamstresses, please convey my appreciation.”

  Netta bowed. “I shall.” She gave me a troubled glance.

  My head swam nastily, then righted. “May I have water, please?”

  Netta went out again. Once I’d drunk a full glass of water I felt measurably better. Soon I stood in the middle of the floor while she laced up a very fine gown of cream lace and green ribbons over a green silk underdress. Netta frowned, twitching the folds and clucking to herself about the laces, while I admired the pearls sewn along the edges of the long sleeves and the hem.

  At last she stood back. “What shall I say, my lady?”

  “That I approve. But I wish they’d permit me a mirror. Heyo, the black eye must be a fetching green by now—matching the gown.”

  My attempt at humor only made her cluck louder as she helped me out of the wedding dress. When it was laid aside, she brought the nightgown. So it was to be another long evening alone, then? I pulled it on, and moments later a quiet maid brought in a tray on which there was, besides the handsome gilt porcelain dishes, another glass of wine. Netta sat down with me as I ate, and when I was finished, she looked at me with faint worry. “His highness insists that you drink the wine, my lady. I’m to stay and see it done.”

  I made a face. “Either I don’t care for this grape, or else the healer gave him some sort of draught to put in. Latter, most likely.” I sipped the bitter drink. “Eugh!”

  But I finished it, then climbed into bed, wondering what I ought to do, as Netta took away the tray. I considered asking Netta to bring me something to read, but dozed off listening to the sound of the trees rustling outside the balcony.

  I woke with the usual dry mouth and lassitude. The windows were dark. Rain was on the way, but someone had lit a fire.

  With an inward jolt, I remembered that this was to be my wedding day.

  To the library I was taken, where I found Garian waiting. He greeted me with a broad smile, his hazel eyes very green against the splendid emerald velvet tunic he wore, all embroidered over in gold.

  “The guests are beginning to arrive.” He made a grand gesture toward the windows. “Jason’s doing the honors as bridegroom. Since you have ventured forth, let’s have this last meal together, you and I, if you’ve no objection, Cousin?”

  “None,” I said.

  He sauntered to the bell-cord and pulled it. On his hand a great square emerald glittered in the light of the fire. “Are you delighted with the prospect of your wedding?”

  “To speak truly, I don’t feel anything at all. I know that’s scarcely fair to Jason. I do wish we could wait.”

  “Alas.” Garian made an airy gesture and smiled. “There is the little matter of politics. Great matter.”

  “Politics?” I repeated. “Oh. Well, he’s a king, that I remember. King of—”

  “Ralanor Veleth.” Garian’s eyes were narrowed in mirth. “You don’t remember?”

  “Ralanor Veleth.” I shook my head slightly. “Means nothing.”

  “It will all come back soon. I promise that much.”

  A tap at the door.

  “Enter.”

  And in came a steward carrying a meal on trays.
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  The food was excellent and did much to revive me. But as before, Garian gave me spiced wine, and stood before me until I had drunk it all. Afterward he summoned another servant. “Send Alem down.”

  The guard appeared as I began feeling that weird floaty sensation and he offered his arm.

  “See you this evening, Flian,” Garian said, now grinning. “I fear I have to resume my duties as host.”

  He watched the guard escort me out. The man matched his pace to mine. We proceeded slowly up the stairs. On the first landing, I was vaguely aware of footfalls, and a dark shadow appeared on the edge of my vision.

  I looked up to see Jason standing on the lowest step of the next stairway.

  “Flian.”

  The voice was quiet enough to take a moment to register. I thought I had imagined it, paused, and nearly lost my balance. Waves blurred my vision, as though I were swimming underwater, sinking down farther by the moment. I staggered.

  “I came,” he said, “for a last interview. Are you ready to go forward with the plans?”

  My mind sank deeper into the shadowy depths of my underwater hideaway. “As you wish…” Like a silver eel, a stray thought appeared, one I’d worked at all the day before, and I grasped it, endeavoring to express it before it vanished again. “I don’t—I wish we needn’t be in haste. But our troth. It means you once had my trust. I must trust you again. Must I not? Isn’t that part of the vows?”

  I tipped my head back to look into his face. There was no reaction to be seen at all.

  “I don’t make sense, do I?” I swayed. A fierce yawn took me.

  Jason stepped aside and gestured to the guard.

  He picked me up and bore me the rest of the way upstairs.

  I think I was asleep before we reached my room.

  When I woke, I felt worse than I had that first day in the cottage when I came to with my memory gone. Night had fallen, but two branches of candles had been lit, as well as the fire.

  Netta had fresh listerblossom leaf, which she gave me in such a furtive way that I was confused. It wasn’t until after I’d drunk it all down and she poured water into the cup that I wondered if she’d sneaked it to me, and why. Perhaps she did not have the faith in Prince Garian’s healer that he had.