“You?” she exclaimed, and then she narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you ask in return?”
Rezkin shook his head. “Only that you not try to claim me.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! I would never. No, no, no. I have no intention of angering Queen Erisial.” Again, the suspicion entered her gaze, and she said, “Are you doing this to gain her favor, because it will not work. She cares nothing for me.”
Rezkin tilted his head. “You are a member of Erisial’s house?”
Celise shrugged. “It does not surprise me that you do not know. I am grateful that I am accepted as a member of her house, but she does not claim me otherwise. I am her eldest daughter. Her mother forced her to make a claim when she was only fifteen, and she hated the man. Serunius is not my father. That is why she does not like me. Queen Erisial says that Oledia is her only true daughter.”
“She makes you call her Queen?”
“I am just another servant in her house. She will not allow Serunius or any other member of the house to stand as champion for me if I am challenged—not unless the goal of the challenge is to damage the house standing. This”—she waved at the body on the floor—“she will blame on me. Even if she presented a champion on my behalf to preserve the house’s honor, she would still expel me. But, if you stand for me—I do not know.”
“Do you know what her plans are for me?”
“It seems obvious that she intends to claim you, but the queen would never speak to me, much less confide in me.”
“Why did Morlin think you held a position of power?” Rezkin said.
She looked at him pensively. “Some people think Queen Erisial loves me and that she only pretends otherwise in public to protect me. Some think she is trying to distance me from the house so that if she is killed, I might be spared. Others believe that she wants her enemies to think I hate her so that they will try to gain my confidence and assistance in overthrowing her. None of it is true; but their beliefs, and the fact that I am still a member of her house, mean that I am in a higher position of power, even though I am only a servant.”
“Yes, people’s perceptions are often more powerful than the truth,” Rezkin mused. “You could take advantage of those perceptions and declare your own house.”
Her face scrunched with worry. “Yes, but I would have to claim a consort for champion.” She glanced down. “Someone like him.”
Rezkin shook his head, knowing the guard from whom he borrowed the uniform might wake before he was able to return it and avoid suspicion. “I am out of time. Report this in a candle mark, and I will stand as champion.”
“Okay, but how do I know you will follow through?” she said.
“You will just have to trust me.” Even as he said it, he knew it was much to ask of any Leréshi.
A heavy knock sounded at the door. Wesson approached with confusion. It was not the soft, hesitant knock of the servant woman, Celise. Queen’s Consort Serunius and several guards stood beyond the portal, and he looked as if he would be all too pleased to dispense with them all. He did not even glance at Wesson as he pushed his way into the sitting room.
“We are here for your master,” he said. “I believe some call him Rezkin.”
Wesson shook his head slowly, glancing at Yserria and Nanessy who had come out of their rooms to investigate. Frisha and Reaylin followed, all looking equally concerned.
Wesson said, “Um, he, is not, exactly, here, I believe.” He drew out the words, stalling for a few extra seconds to think.
Serunius rounded on him, and Wesson understood what the Queen of Lon Lerésh saw in the man. He was a lion prepared to rip into his enemies, and he held himself with the confidence of a man who could.
“The journeyman means that I was in my private bedchamber,” Rezkin said from the doorway. “There is no need to intimidate the young man. He is only doing as I asked.”
Serunius glanced at Wesson with a viper’s gaze. “It is not difficult to intimidate a mouse. He had best hope he grows into some real power or he will never be claimed.”
Yserria straightened her spine and sauntered over to stand between Serunius and Wesson. “It is fortunate for the journeyman that our ways are different from yours.”
Wesson knew that Yserria was trying to do him a favor by redirecting the man’s attention, but the constant belittlement was causing his generally well-controlled anger to simmer hotter. He inhaled deeply to calm himself and then returned to the chair in the corner where he might go unnoticed.
The distraction worked. Serunius perused Yserria’s figure and said, “You, my lady, could claim any man you want.”
Yserria smiled sassily and placed her hand on her hip. “Any man?”
Wesson wanted to laugh. Reaylin had been working with Yserria on developing some skills in flirtation all afternoon, but it was comical since he knew how uncomfortable Yserria was with performing the act.
Serunius’s expression became stormy, and he turned to Rezkin. “You are summoned to the court. There has been some trouble, and you have been named a … person of interest.”
Rezkin smiled jovially and said, “Of course! I would be glad to assist with your investigation in any way I can.”
Serunius appeared thrown by the change in Rezkin’s demeanor. By the man’s tense stance and the number of guards he had brought, Wesson thought he had expected trouble. Wesson had no doubt that, no matter what had happened, Rezkin was involved.
The Queen’s Consort glanced at the others and said, “Your people will attend as well. We may have questions for them.”
Rezkin clapped his hands and rubbed them together with enthusiasm. He strode over and threw his arms around Yserria and Frisha’s shoulders. He said, “Excellent! Let us all go. It will be interesting to see your proceedings. None of us have been to a Leréshi court. Tell me, are they usually conducted at this late hour?”
Serunius gritted his teeth, apparently frustrated—whether at Rezkin’s ostensible lack of concern or his ridiculous behavior, Wesson was not sure. Remembering his part, Wesson rose lazily and sighed loud enough to get their attention.
“Do I have to go?” he whined. “I have been practicing all evening, and I am tired.”
Serunius frowned at him. “Pathetic. Everyone must go.” The man turned and imperiously strode through the doorway to await them in the corridor.
As they passed through the corridors, surrounded by guards, Rezkin waved his arms with enthusiasm for the tiniest things.
“Look at these colors,” he said. “We should get some of these colors for the citadel. Which do you prefer most, Yserria?”
Yserria blinked at him in surprise. “Me? Um, I don’t know—”
“What about you, Frisha?”
“Well, I guess I like the blue—”
“Blue it is! Your wing will be blue.” Rezkin laughed, ridiculously pleased with the pronouncement.
“My wing?” she said.
Rezkin laughed again. “Well, there so many, I have decided we must name them. I thought to name one after each of you.”
“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” Frisha said.
Wesson glanced at Serunius. The man appeared to be further bristling with Rezkin’s every word and chuckle. Although he did not understand the why of it, he realized what Rezkin was doing.
Wesson said, “I agree with Frisha. That could get a bit awkward. Hey Brandt, how about we go sleep in Frisha tonight, and then we can work out in Yserria?”
Rezkin giggled. It was not a manly laugh or even a chuckle. It was the kind of girly sound that should never be heard from a grown man, especially one of Rezkin’s size and build.
Serunius abruptly stopped and spun on his heel to face them. “Will you please be quiet? People are sleeping in these rooms, and you are disrupting them.”
Rezkin appeared momentarily chastised. Then, he smiled and made a booming announcement. “I apologize everyone! Sorry! It was my fault! Completely my fault!”
Through gritted teeth, Serunius said, “Lord Rezkin—”