Royal Airs

  The words hung between them as they watched each other long enough for Josetta to experience a little dizziness of her own. Then he looked down at his hands again.

  “I’ve been away from my familiar life too long. I’ve lost the usual rhythm of my days,” he went on. “I need to settle back in. Think things through.”

  Josetta nodded, showing a face of calm. “Of course. But I hope you’ll come see us from time to time. Just to visit. Or to pull another blessing.”

  He shuffled the cards again. “I’d be glad to. If it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

  “You’d be welcome.”

  “I could do something to earn a meal or two,” he suggested. “Cook or clean. I don’t mind scrubbing the floors.”

  “There’s always work to do here.”

  “And if Steff comes to the city, I might bring him by.”

  It took her a moment to remember who Steff was. The half brother with the hardworking torz father. “I’d be happy to meet him.”

  “And if you need me—I mean, I can’t imagine you would, but—you know where I keep my quarters. You can always find me there.”

  It was worse than the conversation with Foley two years ago. Each of them was breathless and nervous; each of them was trying to say something without saying it. Or maybe that made it better. At least this time she wasn’t the only one struggling to understand an emotion.

  “Deal a card,” she said suddenly. “One to me, one to you.”

  His hands stilled completely. “Why?”

  She smiled. “Whoever gets the high card gets to ask the other one a favor.”

  His eyes narrowed, half in amusement, half in speculation. “What kind of favor?”

  She kept her face prim. “I think we can both be trusted not to request anything too outrageous.”

  Now the amusement deepened. She thought he might want to say I’m not sure I can. But he merely flicked one card to each of them. “Do you know what favor you have in mind?” he asked.

  “Yes. Do you?”

  He didn’t answer, merely turned his card faceup. Four of roses. Josetta displayed her own card and started laughing. Four of skulls.

  “We seem to have the oddest luck with runes and portents,” she said.

  “Two cards this time. High card or trump takes the hand.”

  Rafe turned up the five of horseshoes and the five of fish, while Josetta held the same cards in roses and flutes. “You’re doing this on purpose,” she accused. “Just to extend the game.”

  “I’m not,” he protested. He squared the deck and set it between them on the table. “Let’s just keep drawing cards one at a time until someone wins.”

  She cut the deck first and reordered it. “Just to be sure,” she said, and he laughed. The first thing she pulled from the stack was a wildcard. “Oh, I think I’ve got you!” she crowed—but he turned over a wildcard of his own.

  “I know you did something to the deck,” she said.

  “I wish I knew how to arrange it this well,” he answered. “I’d never lose another game.”

  They drew, and drew again, matched over and over until only about a third of the deck was left. They hadn’t drawn a single trump. “This one will do it,” Rafe said under his breath as Josetta reached out a hand.

  She gave him an inquiring look. “How do you know? I’ve started to believe we’ll be tied to the very end.”

  “All that’s left are the single cards that don’t have a pair because we’ve already drawn all the matches—the five of skulls, the two of roses and so on. And the trumps. And one wildcard.”

  “Really? You remember that?”

  He shrugged. “I always remember every card that’s played in any game. So pick yours.”

  She turned up the high trump. “Ha! I win!”

  But he had the last remaining wildcard. “I match you.”

  Laughing, she folded her hands before her on the table. “Perhaps neither of us is supposed to win. Or we both are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We each get to ask the other one a favor. Or perhaps it’s not a favor, it’s a gift.”

  He considered that. “I admit I’m curious what you have in mind.”

  “Then it’s a deal?”

  He nodded.

  She tried to speak nonchalantly, though she felt she was being bold as a harlot. “Come back once every nineday. Have dinner with us. I’m afraid if you just say, ‘Sure, I’ll stop by sometime,’ you really won’t. But if you promise to eat with us every firstday, for instance, you’ll feel more obligated.”

  His eyes narrowed; he watched her again with a look that was half speculation and half surprise. Trying to decide how much to read into her offer, no doubt. Then he smiled. “You’re right. I probably would have convinced myself that you were only being polite when you told me to stay in touch.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  “You’ll get tired of me if I’m here that often,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said. “If I promise to tell you when I get tired of you, will you agree to a schedule?”

  Now he laughed. “You’re different from other girls,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “But I’d like to know that I’m going to see you again,” he added. “Firstday it is.”

  Josetta tried not to show just how delighted she was by his response. “Excellent! We always have our best meals on firstday—still nothing fancy, but Callie makes a special effort.”

  “I’m not coming for the food,” Rafe said.

  She smiled. “Of course not. For the companionship.” He looked like he might add something, but when he didn’t, she prompted, “And what was the favor you were going to ask me?”

  Now his smile was a little wicked, a little rueful. “I have to think of a new one. The old one was predicated on the belief that I’d probably never see you again.”

  That pulled her eyebrows right up to her hairline. “Really. Well, now you have to tell me what it was, even if you ask for something else.”

  He seemed to think it over a moment, the smile lingering. Then he shrugged and stood up, motioning her to her feet. “Can’t think of anything else I’d want,” he said, and stepped forward and kissed her. His mouth was brief and gentle against hers. She felt his finger under her chin, tipping her face up, but other than that he didn’t touch her.

  When he stepped back, he was no longer smiling. “Still want me to drop by for dinner?” he asked in a husky voice.

  For a minute, she was that most curious of creatures, an elay woman who couldn’t draw breath. But she managed to get the words out anyway. “Even more.”

  That made him laugh again. He scooped up his cards, dropped them in a pocket, and shook his head. “Then I’ll see you on firstday,” he said. “Looking forward to the visit.” And he sauntered back to the infirmary without a backward glance.

  In the morning, Rafe Adova was gone.

  NINE

  Every time Josetta stepped inside the palace, she had a moment where she succumbed to black depression. Even in the huge, high-ceilinged kierten with its white-stone floors and its bubbling fountain, its gracious proportions and its echoing emptiness, she felt trapped. She felt desperate. She felt lonely and afraid.

  Until her circumstances had changed, until she was no longer the eldest heir who had to live at the palace, Josetta hadn’t realized that there were any other ways to feel.

  These days she was still figuring out what she wanted her life to be, but she knew it would be better than it had been five years ago.

  Now, at least, she only had to return to court life for special occasions, like today’s events to celebrate Romelle’s visit. Josetta had spent the night at her mother’s, and they had hired a smoker car to carry them up the steep road to the palace. It was situated in a natural plateau ha
lfway up the mountain that stood guard over Chialto, and it was visible from almost any vantage point in the city. It was sublimely picturesque, with the severe peaks behind it and the spectacular waterfall of the Marisi River beside it. Outside it was constructed of warm, golden stone and fluted turrets; inside it was neatly divided into public and private spaces, residential wings, kitchens, large ballrooms, small studies, and, of course, that magnificent kierten. It was a beautiful, welcoming place, stocked with every luxury, and Josetta hoped she never had to spend another night there in her life.

  “Very nice,” Seterre murmured as they strolled through the kierten, sampling the refreshments and assessing the decorations. “I might have brought in more of those small flowering trees—it will be Quinnahunti changeday, after all; you have to play up the symbolism. And the colors are a little restrained. Elidon never did have much sense of style. But still. Very nice. And the food is quite good.”

  There were probably three hundred other people milling around inside and another hundred outside in the courtyard, or strolling around the nearby lake that had been formed by the falling water. For once even Seterre’s flamboyant costuming did not look out of place, Josetta thought. Every visitor wore clothing worthy of a coronation; the glitter of jewels could have illuminated an underground passage.

  “How long do we have to stay?” Josetta asked.

  “Well, since we’re attending the dinner after all the public events this afternoon, I’d say quite a long time.”

  Josetta groaned.

  She brightened up a few minutes later when Zoe picked through the crowd to greet them. “I hate these events,” she announced, pushing her dark hair behind her ear. “I only came today because Taro Frothen accompanied Romelle, and Darien says if the torz prime can haul himself all the way in from the western provinces, the coru prime can drag herself two miles.”

  “Josetta has been complaining, too, but I rather like all the extravagance,” Seterre said, waving her hands. “I don’t miss living here, but I do miss the excitement sometimes. Have you seen Romelle?”

  Zoe nodded. “Yes, Darien and I were up here last night for a much quieter dinner with Romelle and Taro and Elidon.”

  “Talking politics,” Seterre said. She sounded a touch wistful.

  “Well, they did. I was just bored.”

  “How is she?” Seterre asked. “I was always so fond of her, and I haven’t seen her in a quintile, at least. She’s the only one of the other wives I actually miss.”

  “I thought she seemed a little harried. Natalie doesn’t travel well and Odelia was getting over some kind of stomach ailment, so I think the journey was taxing. And Romelle is not overfond of court life, either, so she wasn’t entirely happy.”

  “So is it really Odelia?” Josetta asked. “Or Mally?”

  “I don’t know. Both girls were paraded through the dining room, but neither of them climbed into my lap, and if I can’t touch them—” Zoe shrugged.

  “Surely it’s Odelia. She brought Mally last time,” Josetta said. “The last two times.”

  “Well, it better be Odelia at least some of the time,” Seterre said. “If that girl is going to be queen, she has to learn court rules and court etiquette. Romelle can’t just keep her there on Taro’s farm, learning about nothing but hay and corn.”

  Zoe was amused. “She’s not even five yet. Plenty of time to learn.”

  Seterre looked a little superior. “A princess is never too young to start preparing herself for her responsibilities, and her mother should know that.”

  Zoe didn’t reply; she never bothered to compete with Seterre, who still, after all this time, drew great satisfaction from knowing she had once been the wife of a king. Zoe was a prime, of course, and that was all very well, but Seterre made it clear it was much more impressive to be royalty.

  Josetta always suspected it was only her existence that convinced Zoe to make any effort with Seterre at all. Zoe was always friendly enough to Seterrre, but Josetta didn’t think her sister really liked her mother. She never asked.

  The crowd shifted and parted, and a low murmur rippled from the front of the room to the back. Josetta stood on tiptoe to get a better look at the hallway that led to what used to be the king’s quarters. It was now the wing of the palace where visitors stayed and Romelle took rooms whenever she was in town.

  “There they are,” Josetta said. She could just glimpse a knot of people emerging from the hallway and moving slowly through the mass of people. She could make out Elidon, Darien, Romelle, two nursemaids, two little girls, and a handful of guards holding the crowd in check. “It’s going to take forever for them to make it around this whole room.”

  “Well, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to gawk at the queen and her daughters,” Zoe said. “I think I’ll wait in the courtyard. There’s going to be music. And entertainment, Darien said.”

  “Yes! A few of the actors I know are doing comedy sketches—just silly little scenes, you know, to keep people amused. When Darien asked if I was acquainted with anyone who might be suitable, I could hardly pick from all my friends!”

  “What fun,” Zoe said. Josetta was sure she was trying to hold back a laugh. “Let’s go see them.”

  • • •

  The weather was fine, the actors were entertaining, and there was more food outside, so Zoe and Josetta didn’t go back into the palace for the next two hours. Seterre had elected to stay in the kierten, where there was a better chance that someone important might see her, but Corene joined them about twenty minutes after they’d stepped outside.

  “I still don’t like Natalie,” she remarked. “She’s just so irritating.”

  “I don’t remember you being a very pleasant little girl,” Josetta said without heat.

  “I didn’t whine.”

  “You were mean.”

  Corene rolled her eyes. “And you were always afraid of everybody.”

  “With pretty good reason, as it turned out,” Zoe said.

  “Do you like Odelia?” Josetta asked.

  Corene wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. She’s not as cute as Celia.”

  “Well, nobody’s as cute as my darling little girl,” Zoe said.

  “I don’t think Romelle likes her, either,” Corene added.

  “What a thing to say!” Josetta exclaimed. “Of course she likes her own daughter.”

  “Then why doesn’t she ever hold her?” Corene demanded. “Did you ever notice that? It’s always the nursemaid carrying Odelia everywhere. Never Romelle.”

  “She has to greet people and shake hands and all that,” Josetta said. “Hard to do if she’s holding a child. Or even just holding her hand.”

  “She did it with Natalie,” Corene said positively. “She never put that girl down. Don’t you remember?”

  “Well, Natalie cried a lot,” Josetta said. “Romelle was always picking her up to comfort her.”

  “I bet Odelia cries, too,” Corene said. “But Romelle doesn’t hold her.”

  Josetta glanced at Zoe, expecting her to say, Don’t be ridiculous. Or Things were different back then. Or Natalie was just a baby, and Odelia’s four years old. But Zoe was frowning. Zoe was thinking it over.

  “Corene has a point,” Zoe said slowly. “Last night at dinner, Odelia dumped a whole plate of food in her lap and started crying. Romelle didn’t even look over. The nurse is the one who took care of her.”

  “Then it must be Mally,” Josetta said.

  “Even so,” Corene said. “She should pretend to like her. I mean, isn’t that the point? So that no one knows if it’s the real heir or not?”

  Zoe nodded. “I’ll mention it to Darien and see what he thinks.”

  “Better be sure,” Josetta suggested. “Try to find a chance to touch Mally—and make sure she is Mally.”

  Corene’s voice was hard. “Right. B
ecause who would ever believe a mother wouldn’t like her own daughter?”

  • • •

  The long public day was followed by a long private reception—well, “private” in the sense that there were only about fifty people in the room and it was actually possible to find someone to talk to that you knew.

  Although not necessarily someone that you liked. For more than a half hour, Josetta was trapped in the type of conversation she hated the most, with two young men from rich and prominent families. They spent the whole time vying with each other to see who could pay her the most extravagant compliment or impress her the most with his wealth and possessions.

  “I told my father, ‘I don’t need my own elaymotive,’ but I’m glad to have it, of course. He turned over a little property to me last year—it’s small, hardly more than a hunting lodge, but now I can drive out there anytime I want,” said the one she thought was remotely related to Kayle Dochenza.

  “Oh, you’ve got a country house?” said the one who might be part Lalindar. “I’ve got a place in the city, not far from the Plaza. Well, you know, my father brought me into the firm last Quinnelay. It seemed the right time to set up my own household.”

  You’re wasting your time, she wanted to tell them. I don’t care about your cars or your properties or your bags of gold. What have you done with your life? What are you going to do with it? That’s all that matters.

  But she smiled politely and offered the appropriate responses and escaped the first chance she could. She spent a much happier half hour talking with the sweela prime, a big, bluff, outgoing man whose boundless energy seemed only slightly dampened by the fact that he was pushing seventy. Nelson Ardelay was her uncle and fond of her for his brother’s sake. Though, really, Nelson had such a warm personality that he could manage to be fond of almost anybody, she thought.

  Except, as it turned out, one of the king’s former wives. “Ah, excuse me, my dear, I have to go perform an unpleasant chore,” Nelson said regretfully. “I see Alys headed in Corene’s direction, and I promised the regent I would help keep them apart.”