Royal Airs

  Their small parade wound through Taro’s warm and welcoming house. There were flowers everywhere, and small nooks holding statues of laughing children, and window seats covered with tumbles of books. Josetta could understand why Romelle frequently refused invitations to come to court; if she lived here, she might always want to stay, too. It felt nourishing, somehow—safe. A place where you could stay forever and not be afraid.

  They traversed the entire bottom story and headed up a polished wood stairwell to the third floor. The wide landing looked much like the kierten; it was an open, sunny place brightened even more with buckets of fresh flowers. A couple of hallways led to what appeared to be smaller rooms, probably bedrooms, but most of this level was taken up by a large chamber directly in front of them, guarded by a half-open door.

  “This is where Odelia spends most of her time,” Taro said quietly. “Mally has rooms downstairs, where the rest of the family lives, but Odelia prefers solitude and silence.”

  Romelle had hurried ahead of them into the big room. Josetta saw her confer briefly with a woman inside—a nursemaid or tutor, perhaps—and then turn back to give Taro one brief, despairing look.

  “She’s inside?” Darien asked, and, when Taro nodded, he strode forward. The rest of them followed, dragging their feet, not sure what they would find on the other side of the door.

  At first, Josetta thought it was nothing out of the ordinary. The room was large and bright, with sunlight pouring through banks of wide windows. There were furniture groupings and piles of toys lining the walls, but the majority of the room was given over to open space—just polished hardwood flooring and great squares of sunlight. It took a moment to realize that the windows were a little higher than you might expect them to be, that all the furniture was soft, upholstered, without a sharp edge on any table or armrest.

  Odelia knelt in the middle of the open space, her eyes closed, maybe humming a song to herself. She looked very much as Mally had the last time Josetta had seen her—she had the same dark hair that twisted into natural curls, the same milky-rose complexion that looked so much like Romelle’s. She probably had the same dark eyes, but it was impossible to tell, since her lids remained closed even once they all stepped into the room.

  Darien started forward, as if he would crouch down and interrogate her, but Taro flung out a hand to hold him in place. “Wait,” he said, and his quiet voice was so forceful that even Darien obeyed.

  Romelle had approached Odelia cautiously and dropped to her knees. “Hey, baby,” she said in a low tone. “There are some people here who’d like to meet you.”

  Odelia didn’t answer or open her eyes. If anything, she seemed to rock a little faster.

  Romelle tried again. “Do you think you could stand up and be introduced to them? It’s your sisters Corene and Josetta. And Zoe. Do you remember Zoe?”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Darien asked Taro in an undervoice, but Taro just shook his head.

  Romelle put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and spoke in a firmer voice. “Odelia. Do you hear me? I want you to come meet some people.”

  Odelia lifted her hands to cover her ears, and began humming loudly enough for them to hear. Except she wasn’t producing a song—it was more like a thin, high wail that trembled over a couple of notes, and she only stopped long enough to take a breath and then resume.

  Romelle came abruptly to her feet, pulling Odelia up with her. “Stop that. You know how to behave when there’s company. Come meet our guests.”

  Without answering, Odelia jerked her head and pulled free. Still keeping her hands over her ears, still singing that atonal song, she began spinning around in a tight spiral, not looking at her mother, at the nursemaid, or at the strangers clustered in the doorway, who were staring at her in slowly growing consternation and dread.

  Romelle pressed her lips together, and then gazed hopelessly at Taro. He turned to Darien. “When she gets like this, it’s sometimes an hour before she stops,” he said quietly. “Sometimes she gets so dizzy she falls to the floor, and then she curls in on herself and cries until she falls asleep. And when she wakes up, she stands up and starts spinning again. This can go on for days.”

  “But she—what causes this behavior? How often does it occur?” Darien asked. “Was she simply nervous because she realized strangers were in the house?”

  Taro stared at him. “This is her behavior,” he said. “Some days less extreme. Some days she will tolerate having others in the room, though she won’t speak to us or meet our eyes. We’ve thought that perhaps she doesn’t realize we’re actually present. Other days, she’s like this. Like one raw exposed nerve, and any noises, any rapid movements, certain kinds of light, make her frantic. She sings and spins, I think, to shut out those sounds and motions. Sometimes she can’t endure the feel of clothing on her body. Sometimes she can’t endure the taste of food. And she never speaks.”

  “Taro—how long has she been this way?” Zoe asked, her voice full of wretchedness and compassion.

  “Maybe two years. She wasn’t quite two when she started developing these behaviors. Before then, she seemed like every other child I have ever held, and I have known hundreds. Clever and engaged and happy enough. But she gradually began to withdraw from us, more and more every quintile, every nineday, and now I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the Odelia that I remember.”

  There was a long silence while Darien watched Odelia make her ceaseless clumsy pirouettes in the oblivious sunshine.

  “You should have told me,” Darien said at last.

  “Should I?” Taro replied. “When I didn’t understand why the change had started and I didn’t know if it might reverse itself? To tell you would have been to raise doubts about her status as heir. I did not want to take away her birthright for what might be a condition that healed itself.”

  Darien gave him one long, stern look. “And do you acknowledge now that the passage of two or more years argues against the possibility that this is temporary?”

  “I believe she still might improve,” Taro began, but when Darien’s face showed incredulity, he nodded, and bowed his big head. “I believe she might,” he went on, “but not enough to assume the duties that would fall to the queen.”

  “Then we have some hard decisions to make,” Darien said.

  Josetta was amazed that he could move on so quickly from shock and sadness, where she was currently mired, and begin focusing on future considerations. But she supposed he had no choice. None of them did.

  “We need to assemble the other primes and discuss what needs to be done next,” Zoe said in a subdued voice.

  “Which leads me to the next question,” Darien said. “Besides the people in this room, who knows of her condition?”

  “My wife and three women from my estate who share the primary burden of watching her. No one else.”

  “Mally? Natalie?” Zoe asked.

  Taro shook his head. “We have kept them segregated from her for more than a year. We have been too afraid of what they might in all innocence say about Odelia when they are at public functions. Mally is too shy and obedient to ask many questions, but Natalie has been very vocal about wanting to know where her sister is. At least—she used to be.” He sighed and rubbed a big hand across his face. “Now Natalie has gotten used to calling Mally ‘Odelia’ and she sometimes seems to forget there are two different girls. But twice in the past quintile we have found her coming up these stairs, so I believe she knows there is something strange in the house. She just doesn’t know how strange.”

  As they spoke, they continued watching Odelia spin and sing, completely lost in her own private world. Josetta watched Romelle as the queen watched her daughter, her face a study in loss and devastation. When Odelia overbalanced and tipped to the floor, making no attempt to get up again, Romelle looked as if she couldn’t bear it any longer. Instead of sitting down to com
fort the girl, Romelle turned away, covering her face with her hands.

  It was, strangely, Corene who stepped forward, ignoring Zoe’s outstretched hand and Darien’s “Corene, no.” Her face solemn, her approach gradual and unalarming, she drew closer, then dropped to her hands and knees and crawled the last few yards to Odelia’s side. She seemed to be speaking, but her voice was so low, Josetta couldn’t catch a word. When she put her arms around Odelia, the little girl first started a wordless shrieking, flapping her hands as if to fly away. But Corene persisted, picking her up, pulling Odelia into her lap, wrapping her arms around the girl and bending her red head over the dark one. Enclosing her, almost, in a living cocoon of warmth and safety.

  Josetta could hardly believe it, but within a few minutes, Odelia stopped wailing, grew almost calm in Corene’s arms. She still wouldn’t speak. She still wouldn’t glance up at Corene, or even seem to acknowledge that the other girl was present. But she settled against her sister as if she had found a haven when it had seemed no such thing as a haven existed.

  • • •

  They moved the conversation back to the lower level of the mansion, to one of those big cheerful rooms with soft furniture and plenty of light. Taro’s wife—an ample, smiling woman of great serenity—joined them only long enough to order refreshments and tell them she was having servants carry in their luggage.

  Zoe exclaimed, “Oh—and Celia—I left her with the nursemaid in our elaymotive, but if she’s fussy—”

  Taro’s wife patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and said, “I’m usually pretty handy with a baby.”

  “We have some decisions to make,” Darien said again as soon as she was gone. “And we must make them quickly.”

  Taro gave him an inquiring look. “I don’t understand the hurry. You did not expect Odelia to inherit the throne for almost twenty years. Surely we have time to consider our course.”

  “The empress of Malinqua will be here within the quintile and she is a stickler for protocol. She has expressed an interest in meeting all the princesses—and she has already familiarized herself with their names and likenesses.”

  “Mally may still stand in for Odelia until we come to a decision,” Taro said.

  Romelle had joined them, her eyes red with weeping, and some of her defiance rekindled. “Mally!” she exclaimed with bitterness. “The only good that will come of this whole disaster is knowing that I will no longer have to pretend she is my daughter!”

  Josetta and Corene exchanged looks. Corene had been right when she declared that Romelle loathed Mally, though the reasons were far more complicated than they’d imagined.

  “I suppose she will have to,” Darien said, answering Taro. “Until we have decided what to do about Odelia.”

  “What to do about her!” Romelle responded with great affront. “You don’t need to do anything about my daughter. She’s beautiful. She’s perfect. And I love her with all my heart, just as she is.” Zoe reached over to hug her, but Romelle shook her off, glowering at Darien. “You can’t come here and tell me that she doesn’t deserve the best possible life.”

  “No,” Darien said. “I would want her to be happy and cared for as long as she lives. But she isn’t fit to be queen.”

  Romelle still seemed to be feeling belligerent. “Well, who wants to be queen anyway? All those gossips, all those terrible people trying to catch you out in a lie—it’s a miserable existence.”

  “I agree in some respects, but that’s not the point at issue here,” Darien said. “Odelia was named heir by virtue of being Vernon’s true daughter. If she cannot rule, we need to publicly say so. And then we need to determine who will be in line to take the throne.”

  Taro glanced around the room. “The other three heirs are all on the property,” he said. “I suppose that’s not an accident. Shall I bring Natalie into the room as well?”

  Which was when Josetta realized exactly why Darien had wanted her to accompany him on this trip. We miss you, he had said. What he had meant was, It is your duty as an heir to the crown. Trust Darien to only give you partial information no matter how much you wanted to know the whole truth. She would have glared at him across the room except she knew he wouldn’t care.

  “We do not need Natalie’s presence in the room, but, yes, I thought there might be some value in having all the princesses in one place,” Darien answered. “When the primes certified Odelia as heir, they also determined the order of the succession. First Natalie, as Odelia’s half sister by blood—then Josetta, as the eldest of Vernon’s supposed daughters—then Corene. If that order still stands, do we need to begin more intensive preparation for Natalie? Do we need to find a decoy princess to occasionally substitute for her? Do we reconsider Josetta, who is so close to her majority? What is our course of action?”

  Now Josetta looked straight at Rafe. He had been so silent since this whole strange interlude began, keeping himself so effortlessly out of the way, that even she had started to forget he was present. But she felt his sudden involuntary spasm when Darien put her forward as the likely queen. His face was flooded with dismay, and she could practically read the thought in his mind. I might be a prince in hiding, but I’m not fit for a queen. She gave him a small smile and nodded. Oh yes, you are. Wouldn’t that be the biggest gamble of your life?

  “Darien,” Zoe said, and there was a note of urgency in her voice that made everyone in the room sit up straighter. “Yes—that was the original plan—but not everybody was satisfied by it.”

  Taro nodded. “I remember. The thinking was that if we had gone to so much trouble to make sure the heir was definitely Vernon’s daughter—flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone—that Odelia’s heir should also be from Vernon’s line.”

  For a moment, Darien lost his usual look of calm certainty. “That’s inconvenient,” he snapped. “Whose idea was this?”

  Taro and Zoe frowned at each other, as if trying to remember. “Nelson’s, I think,” Taro said. “It’s a sweela sort of argument.”

  Darien put his hand to his temple as if his head hurt. “Then Nelson must have thought there was some advantage to his own family to promote such a plan,” he said, sounding weary. “For instance, was Vernon in some way related to the Ardelays? That would explain Nelson’s eagerness.”

  “Of course Vernon was related to the Ardelays—all the Five Families have intermarried over the generations,” Zoe said. “I can tell you that the Lalindars and the Frothens and the Serlasts also carry some blood from that line, but it’s very diluted. That can’t be why Nelson would push for Vernon’s heir.”

  Taro glanced at Josetta. “In fact, I would have expected Nelson to have favored Josetta’s claim, since she is his brother’s daughter.”

  “If it matters,” Josetta said, “I don’t want the throne.”

  “It doesn’t,” Darien told her. “Well, who would be Vernon’s closest kin? He didn’t have siblings or even first cousins—it was one of the reasons his advisors were so concerned when he failed to produce children of his own. But he must have relatives somewhere. This must all have been researched before Josetta was even born.”

  “It was,” Zoe said faintly. She had a hand across her mouth and looked as if she had seen smiling death dancing around her wedding dress. “Oh no. Oh no no no no no.”

  “That could hardly be more ominous,” Darien said. “Tell us.”

  “I touched his arm. At some function back in Quinnelay. And I noticed it then, but it was faint—Vernon’s ancestry, yes, and a healthy percentage of Ardelay blood. I can’t believe that Nelson—but the Ardelays were out of favor for so long that maybe he thought this was a way to right the balance—”

  “Zoe,” Darien said sharply.

  Her expression was wretched as she glanced at him, at Corene, and back to Darien. “Dominic Wollimer. Alys’s husband. He’s Vernon’s closest living relative—that I know about, anyway
.”

  “I won’t have that imbecile taking the throne of Welce no matter how many primes certify him!” Darien exploded.

  Zoe shook her head. “Not him. His child. Alys’s baby.”

  • • •

  Darien stared at Zoe a moment. Josetta could almost see him putting the puzzle together, piece by piece. “She knew,” he said flatly, and Zoe just nodded.

  “She knew what? What are you talking about?” Taro demanded.

  Darien was having a hard time controlling his anger as he returned his attention to the torz prime. “You told me that only a handful of people were aware of the situation with Odelia, but you lied,” he said. “Obviously, Alys knew as well.”

  Taro clearly resented the tone. His voice was cool when he answered, “As far as I know, she didn’t.”

  “Then why would she marry a man with nothing to recommend him but his distant connection to the late king? And why would she choose to have his child?”

  “Alys is pregnant?” Romelle exclaimed. “She didn’t tell me that!”

  Darien swung his attention her way. “You and Alys are in the habit of confiding in each other, are you? I thought you disliked her.”

  Romelle looked a little guilty. “I used to. When we lived at the palace. She could be so cruel. But we’ve become much closer since Vernon died and we don’t have to play all those political games.”

  “You might not be playing them, but she is,” Darien replied. “Alys never stops intriguing.”

  Taro put a hand on Romelle’s shoulder. “She knew about Odelia?” he asked, his voice gentler than Darien’s.

  Romelle nodded. “I didn’t tell her—she found out. It was almost two years ago, and everything with Odelia was so new and raw. She stopped by one day—just like you, Darien!—on her way somewhere else. And she found us in the playroom, and she saw Odelia and she—she—I was so afraid! I begged her not to tell anyone, I said I was sure Odelia would get better, and she was so kind to me! She said only a mother could ever understand how terrifying it was to watch a child grow up and worry about all the dreadful things that could happen. She said she would never tell a soul. And she hasn’t. Every time she sees me, though, she asks after Odelia, and it’s such a relief to have one person I can confide in, one person I can be honest with.”