Quintana of Charyn

  ‘So it is true,’ Gargarin said, furious. ‘I thought the guards were making up stories.’

  Froi shoved past him. Six months without a word and that’s all Gargarin could say to him.

  Gargarin dragged him back. ‘Where are the Lumaterans?’

  ‘In Lumatere! Where else?’ Froi said, pulling free and walking away.

  ‘So they had to have you all to themselves?’ Gargarin demanded. Froi stopped and turned back to face his father. There was no amount of counting that could control him.

  ‘They have me all to themselves because my real father doesn’t want me! He never did. He regrets not tossing me out –’

  ‘Don’t!’ Gargarin shook his head with disbelief. ‘Don’t say those words to me.’

  ‘If you weren’t a cripple, I’d beat you senseless,’ Froi said. ‘What would it have taken for you to acknowledge me? That’s what I wanted. To hear those words from you. And all you could say to me through Scarpo was that in weeks to come, not to make contact with the Charyn palace. “You wait,” Scarpo said. “Trust me. These are his words.” I know them by heart, Gargarin. And I waited and waited.’

  Gargarin gripped Froi’s cloak, pulling him closer, tears of anger in his eyes.

  ‘I begged them for you because I thought I found a way,’ Gargarin whispered. ‘That despite never being able to claim you as mine or Lirah’s, I found a way of my son getting everything he wanted. Here. In this palace.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  Gargarin shoved him away.

  ‘Go back to your greedy dishonourable people who’ll do anything to keep you away from those who love you. And you tell them that Lumatere has made an enemy of me, and they’ll regret that for the rest of their lives.’

  Phaedra spent the next few days in the valley being visited by the Monts. Many of them. All expressing disappointment in Lucian.

  ‘He’s an idiot,’ Constance said to Phaedra. ‘I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again,’ she continued, taking one of the honey cakes Florenza had made. They were sitting inside Jorja and Harker’s cave with Tesadora and anyone who came to put their thoughts into the matter.

  ‘What’s she saying?’ Cora demanded.

  ‘Lucian’s an idiot,’ Tesadora translated with alacrity.

  Cora sighed. ‘I’m biting my tongue because of a vow I made when he carried our little savage to safety,’ she said.

  Phaedra had refused to condemn Lucian’s absence. She had made the choice to follow Quintana to the Citavita. It was Lucian who had been left behind. He owed her nothing.

  ‘I understood his pride,’ she told anyone who asked. ‘And I’ve changed. I’m a different Phaedra,’ she said with determination. ‘No more weeping. No more begging the gods for what I want and can’t have. We learn to live with our disappointments. It’s one thing I’ve learnt from our brave Quintana.’

  The others, Charynites and Lumateran alike, stared at her disbelievingly.

  Goddess. Gods. Anyone listening, she cried all the night long. Let him come down the mountain tomorrow.

  Tomorrow came and there were more Mont visitors. Jorja borrowed rations from the other valley dwellers because it was rude to have visitors, especially foreigners, and not feed them. They were all forced to move outside the cave where there was more room. Harker built a fire and everyone seemed happy enough discussing Lucian out in the open.

  ‘Is that Orly and Lotte?’ Sandrine exclaimed as they watched the Mont couple cross the stream, leading a cow.

  ‘Orly doesn’t come down the mountain,’ Constance said.

  But today Orly and Lotte had decided to pay their respects.

  ‘A gift,’ Orly said to Phaedra. ‘She belongs to Gert and Bert.’

  Phaedra embraced them both. She understood the significance and worth of this cow.

  ‘The milk will come in handy once you all start breeding like normal people,’ Orly said, pulling away from Phaedra, not liking the fuss. ‘I’ll be off now.’

  ‘Orly! Stay a while,’ Constance argued, rolling her eyes at the awkward ways of her kin.

  ‘We’re to go now,’ Lotte said woefully. ‘He’s feeling this very strongly, Phaedra. He thought the moment you returned, Lucian would take you back up to the mountain, but the lad’s gone to the palace village and we are fearing the worse, we are. The worse,’ Lotte cried.

  ‘What is she saying?’ Cora asked. ‘This one talks too much.’

  ‘That Lucian is still an idiot,’ Tesadora said.

  Another day passed. Another set of visits from the Monts. The Charynite valley dwellers also joined the discussion. The men lay bets.

  ‘Five days,’ one said.

  ‘Ten,’ another argued. ‘She was the one who left him this time.’

  ‘But he sent her back the first time, so he’ll feel contrite for that. Seven.’

  It was neither five nor ten nor seven days. Kasabian guessed it right.

  ‘When the lad sorts out what he needs to sort out, he’ll come for you, Phaedra.’

  Everyone was on their feet in shock and surprise when Lucian appeared on the third day. Phaedra watched him cross the stream, his eyes taking in the large party staring his way with curiosity. She could see by the set of his shoulders that he was dreading whatever he was about to face.

  He greeted them all politely with a nod of his head.

  ‘I want to speak to Phaedra,’ he said, his eyes firmly on hers. She could read nothing in them. No, there it was. Panic.

  ‘Alone,’ he said, holding out a hand to her.

  No one moved.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Cora said, pulling Phaedra away. ‘Kasabian’s her chaperone in the place of her father.’

  Florenza snorted out a laugh. ‘That is so not true –’

  But Jorja hushed her daughter.

  ‘What you have to say to Phaedra you can say in front of everyone, cousin,’ Constance said. She received instant approval from the camp dwellers, who understood exactly what she was saying.

  ‘I agree,’ Pitts the cobbler said. He came down most days to enjoy Jorja’s hospitality.

  Phaedra took pity on Lucian and held out her hand. He looked too nervous for any of this to turn out right and she had an awful feeling that she was going to cry in front of everyone.

  ‘This is a matter of privacy between two people,’ she said firmly.

  There was a chorus of disapproval at the suggestion, but she could feel the tears burning her eyes and she wanted to leave. Lucian was staring down at her, horrified.

  ‘Enough!’ he shouted at the crowd. ‘You’ve all made her cry.’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ she cried.

  ‘You’re the one who made her cry, running off to the palace the moment she arrived,’ Constance said.

  Lucian was shaking his head with exasperation.

  ‘I thought it best that we make our marriage official,’ he blurted out. ‘The first time it was in Alonso and … quite a miserable affair. My cousin insists we make it less miserable and I couldn’t agree more.’

  ‘Your cousin Jory?’ Phaedra asked, her heart hammering to hear the words.

  ‘No,’ he said with a sigh and Phaedra could see how uncomfortable he was under everyone’s scrutiny.

  ‘What cousin?’ Cora asked.

  Lucian pointed across the stream. Isaboe of Lumatere stood on the other side of the stream with her child on her hip and her consort by her side, surrounded by the Lumateran Guard.

  ‘That one.’

  The Queen looked annoyed. ‘Lucian!’ she called out. ‘What’s happening over there?’

  Lucian turned back to Phaedra and the others. ‘The Priestking is coming too. To conduct the ceremony,’ he said.

  Lucian waved the royal party over and suddenly Jorja was taking deep breaths from the shock of seeing the Queen of Lumatere walking towards her cave.

  ‘I don’t want any fanfare,’ Lucian said gruffly when his cousin reached them. ‘Nor does Phaedra. Is that clear, everyone?’


  ‘You can’t speak for her,’ Constance said.

  ‘I don’t want any fanfare,’ Phaedra said, and she caught Lucian’s grateful smile.

  ‘No, none at all,’ the Queen of Lumatere joined in, accepting Jorja’s invitation to sit down. ‘Although we’ll have to wait for everyone on the mountain to come down. Balconio, too. They’ve all promised to travel up … and down for the wedding. As has August and Abian and their lot and Trevanion and the rest of the Guard. Very small. Compared to ours.’

  The Queen turned to her consort.

  ‘I think the whole kingdom came to that one, didn’t they, my love?’

  ‘No, some of the Flatland lords boycotted it because they thought you were marrying beneath you,’ Finnikin of Lumatere advised her.

  Jorja was looking flustered and Phaedra knew she had little to serve as refreshments.

  ‘The groom’s family is responsible for the feast,’ Isaboe of Lumatere said, ‘and they’ll be arriving with the food soon.’

  Phaedra knew the tradition was the exact opposite in Lumatere, but she didn’t dare challenge the Queen.

  ‘While we wait for the arrivals, we thought we could take time to speak of matters,’ Finnikin said to Harker, and Phaedra watched everyone’s stillness as the valley dwellers gathered close.

  ‘To be honest, it’ll be a long time indeed before Charynites live in Lumatere. The wounds cut very deep. But we …’ Finnikin looked at the Queen. ‘My queen and I thought we’d speak to you about ideas for this valley. Perhaps it’s time to build and make plans … for permanency.’

  There was silence from the valley dwellers.

  ‘It needs a leader, Harker,’ Isaboe said. ‘And you seem to be that man.’

  Perhaps it wasn’t exactly what Harker and Jorja and the rest of the valley dwellers had journeyed here for, all that time ago, but they were interested in what the Queen and her consort had to say.

  ‘The way we see it, this valley will have the best that Lumatere and Charyn have to offer,’ the Queen said. ‘It could become a thriving place of progress. A place where both kingdoms meet.’

  Jorja suddenly gasped and jumped to her feet. ‘How could we have forgotten? It’s a good thing you’ve visited, Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘The Charyn palace has sent a letter. Go get it, Florenza. And then we’ll find you a pretty dress, Phaedra, for the ceremony.’

  ‘Well, if I may,’ the Queen of Lumatere said, ‘I brought a dress that belonged to my sister, Evestalina. Lucian was her favourite, do you remember that, cousin? She’d let you get away with anything. Even more than our brother Balthazar.’

  Phaedra saw the emotion on Lucian’s face. The Queen rarely spoke of the past and everyone present knew the importance of her speaking her family’s names on the Charynite side of the stream.

  ‘Well, she would have wanted your wife to have it.’ The Queen looked at Phaedra. ‘It shames me that it has taken me so long to acknowledge you, Phaedra of Alonso.’

  Phaedra shook her head. ‘It shames me to have spoken to you the way I did in the caves after you put your life at risk for Quintana of Charyn.’

  ‘Enough said.’ The Queen’s voice was brisk, but filled with emotion.

  Florenza returned with the letter, handing it to the Queen. The Princess Jasmina cried to have it.

  ‘Jasmina likes the pretty seals on the letters,’ the Queen explained, ‘especially those that are red.’ There was much oohing and aahing from the valley dwellers, who were besotted by the little princess.

  The Princess Jasmina took a liking to Florenza, gripping her hand tightly, trying to drag her away.

  ‘Be careful,’ the Queen said firmly. ‘She’ll try to control you.’

  ‘Has she a gift?’ Florenza asked.

  ‘Yes,’ the Queen said, her tone dry. ‘The gift for …’

  ‘… stubbornness,’ Finnikin said.

  More people arrived from over the mountain, and on a cold night under a full moon, Phaedra found herself wed to Lucian for the second time. He wore a royal-blue doublet and his trousers tucked into his buskins and Phaedra’s dress was fitted to the waist in soft pink. She wore flowers from Yata’s garden in her hair. He was very solemn; she wasn’t. Phaedra couldn’t stop smiling.

  While the celebrations continued well into the night, they sat by the stream alone.

  ‘I think this party will last for days,’ he said. ‘And we’ll never be alone together.’

  ‘Soon enough,’ she said. ‘I don’t think tonight is just about us.’

  He pressed a kiss to her lips.

  ‘We’ll have to visit my father, Lucian. There’s too much anger between us all and I can’t begin my life with you this way.’

  He nodded. ‘Then we’ll visit your father soon,’ he promised.

  Suddenly Finnikin was at Lucian’s shoulder.

  ‘Lucian, we have a problem,’ the Queen’s Consort said, holding the letter from the Charynite palace in his hand. ‘A big one.’

  ‘Can it not wait until the morning?’ Lucian asked.

  ‘Apparently some of our mail has gone astray.’

  Lucian laughed, his eyes never leaving Phaedra’s.

  ‘Finnikin, unless it affects the future of this kingdom, I’m going to have to say no to whatever you’re about to ask me to do,’ her husband said firmly.

  Finnikin placed an arm around them both.

  ‘Cousins, I’m afraid it affects the future of both our kingdoms.’

  On the day the Provincari of Charyn were to choose Quintana’s consort, Froi sat on the roof of the Crow’s Inn with Mort and Florik, the lads staring down at every potential suitor who arrived in the Citavita. Each candidate brought with them a large enough entourage to impress, and Froi’s heart sank with every step they took closer to Quintana and his son.

  ‘The Osterians,’ Florik said sombrely, indicating the procession crossing the bridge with great ceremony. Froi had come to realise that the more banners a kingdom had, the more useless they were.

  ‘They say he could be the one,’ Froi said. ‘The Osterian.’

  ‘Why?’ Mort asked.

  ‘Apparently no mad blood or inbreeding for the past hundred years.’ Froi watched the Osterian prince as he stepped onto the rock of the Citavita.

  Mort stood and walked to the edge of the roof. ‘Easy if a bolt flew out of my longbow right between Osterian’s legs. Accidents happen, lads.’

  ‘You’d start a war with the only kingdom who hasn’t gone to war for its whole existence,’ Florik said. ‘Not your best idea, Mort.’

  Mort looked back at Froi and managed a grin. ‘Gods are smiling, Froi. Think I see our Grij.’

  It was both Grij and Satch who arrived, and Froi had never been so happy for their company.

  ‘Why did you stay, Froi?’ Grij begged to know as they made their way up to the castle, arms around each other’s shoulders.

  ‘She w … w … won’t want you th … th … there,’ Satch said. ‘T … too painful.’

  ‘Then what are you both doing here?’ he asked.

  Satch shrugged.

  ‘C … couldn’t bear for her to b … be alone this day.’

  When they reached the drawbridge they lined up behind a crowd of foreigners, waiting to enter. They had left their weapons with Mort and the lads, knowing only the little King’s palace guards would be allowed into the palace armed. Everyone who travelled through the gates, whether prince or servant, was checked for weapons. Today, every soldier in the palace was on guard and tension was high among Scarpo and his men. Froi finally reached the portcullis, but Olivier appeared before him. He had seen glimpses of the lastborn since his arrival five days ago, but it was the first time they had come face to face.

  ‘Let me pass,’ Froi said, his tone cold.

  Oliver looked beyond Froi to where Satch and Grijio stood.

  ‘You call yourself his friends and you bring him here?’ Olivier demanded.

  ‘You try stopping him,’ Grij said.

  ‘I
t’s not right!’ Olivier said.

  ‘Let me pass,’ Froi said again, but he couldn’t find the anger anymore. He just felt the tears biting at his eyes.

  Inside the great hall, there was barely room to move. Froi and the lads found themselves close to the back, fighting for space among horses and hounds. Some of the suitors had animals with them, until Perabo ordered anything on four legs to be taken to the stables or their two-legged owners would be removed themselves. The fool Feliciano of Avanosh joined them soon after, and Grijio, always diplomatic, allowed him to stay.

  When Quintana entered the great hall holding the little King, a hush came over the room. Some had never seen Tariq before. As the only babe in Charyn, people were in awe of him wherever he went. The Provincari followed and each acknowledged Quintana and the boy with a bow before being seated on a raised platform. Froi was pleased to see Ariston and Dolyn there to represent the rights of Turla and Lascow. He watched Tariq squirm in Quintana’s arms and she placed him on the ground and Dorcas and Fekra had a hard time trying to keep up with him as he crawled between the Provincari’s feet.

  ‘They’re saying the Prince from Osteria will win the day,’ Feliciano said.

  ‘We’ve heard,’ Froi muttered.

  ‘He’s brainless, according to my father,’ Grij explained.

  ‘Exactly what the P … Provincaro wants,’ Satch said. ‘Someone they can all control.’

  ‘And why aren’t you in contention?’ Froi asked Feliciano coldly.

  ‘My uncle owes money,’ Feliciano admitted. ‘A lot of it. He believes we have a better chance of paying his debts if I marry the daughter of the Osterian archduke. We’re in with a very strong chance. They’re taking marriage requests for her in three days’ time.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’ Froi asked.

  ‘Avanosh has been accepted as a province. My uncle will have a vote in the decision.’

  Another candidate and his entourage entered through the great doors behind Froi and his friends. They were from Sarnak. Froi would know a Sarnak in his sleep. They had ruddy cheeks and high foreheads. And they married young.

  ‘I don’t have much experience determining the age of people younger than us,’ Grij said, catching a glimpse of the new arrivals, ‘but is he …’