The princess’s voice was devoid of emotion as she said, “Of course, father.”
Vaelin went to one knee, accepting her hand when she offered it, pressing another kiss to the warmth of her skin. Even the untrustworthy can be useful. “Highness,” he addressed her rising, all too aware of the King’s presence, “I’m not sure you are correct.”
“Correct?”
It was wrong in many ways, an appalling breach of etiquette, but he stepped closer and planted a kiss on her cheek, whispering in her ear. “The Dark is not superstition. Look in the western quarter for the tale of the One Eyed Man.”
“Do you seek to test me, Young Hawk?”
They were walking from the rear of the pavilion, alone but for two guards. The king trudged through the mud, the hem of his ermine robes heavily stained. He seemed shorter somehow, stunted by age, his head barely reaching Vaelin’s shoulder.
“Test you, Highness?” Vaelin asked.
The King rounded on him. “Do not play with me, boy!” His eyes bore into him. “Do not!”
Vaelin met his gaze squarely. The King may still be an owl but he was no longer a mouse. “My friendship with Princess Lyrna offends you, Highness?”
“You have no friendship with her. You cannot stand the sight of her, with good reason.” The King angled his head, eyes narrowed in contemplation. “She wanted to show you the shiny boy, arouse your jealousy. Yes?”
Keschet, Vaelin recalled her words in Al Hestian’s garden. The Liar’s Attack. Hide one stratagem within another. Lord Darnel was a distraction, something her father expected. You must refuse to do what my father asks of you this day.
He shrugged. “I expect so.”
“What did you say to her? I know you weren’t stealing a kiss.”
He gave a tight, sheepish smile. “I told her that beauty fades, along with opportunity.”
The king grunted, resuming his stooped trudge through the mud. “You shouldn’t bait her so. It’s necessary that you don’t become enemies. For the Realm, you understand?”
“I understand, Highness.”
“She’s not going to marry him, is she?”
“I very much doubt it.”
“Knew she wouldn’t.” The king sighed in weary frustration. “If only the fellow wasn’t such a dolt. What a burden it is to have an intelligent daughter. It goes against nature for wit to be bound up in so much beauty. It’s my experience that truly beautiful women are either bestowed with great charm or mountainous spite. Her mother, my dear departed queen, was a renowned beauty and had all the spite you could ever need, but mercifully little brain.”
This isn’t candour, Vaelin surmised. Just another mask. He makes a lie of honesty to trap me in another design.
They came to an ornately decorated carriage, intricately carved wood shining with gold leaf, its windows curtained in black velvet. A team of four dappled greys waited at the tethers. The king gestured for him to open the door and climbed inside, groaning with the effort, beckoning him to follow. The king settled himself into a soft leather couch and rapped his bony fist against the wall behind. “Palace! Not too fast.”
From outside came the snap of a whip, the carriage jerking into motion as the four greys took the strain. “It was a gift,” the king explained. “The carriage, the horses. From Lord Al Telnar, you remember him?”
Vaelin recalled the finely dressed man from the Council Chamber. “The Minister of Works.”
“Yes, snide little bastard wasn’t he? Wanted me to seize a quarter of the Cumbraelin Fief Lord’s lands, punishment for his brother’s rebellion. Of course, he would generously take on the burden of stewardship, together with all the attendant rents. I thanked him for his carriage and seized a quarter of his own lands, gave the rents to Fief Lord Mustor. Should keep him in wine and whores for a while. A reminder to Lord Al Telnar that a true king cannot be bought.”
The king fished inside his cloak, coming out with a leather pouch about the size of an apple. “Here.” He tossed the pouch to Vaelin. “Know what this is?”
Vaelin tugged the pouch open to find a large stone of blue, veined with grey. “Bluestone. A big one.”
“Yes, the largest ever found, dug out of the mines in the Northern Reaches seventy-odd years ago when my grandfather, the twentieth Lord of Asrael, built the tower and established the first colony. Know what it’s worth?”
Vaelin glanced at the stone again, the lamplight gleamed on its smooth surface. “A large amount of money, Highness.” He closed the bag and held it out to the king.
The old man kept his hands within his cloak. “Keep it. A King’s gift to his most valued sword.”
“I have no need of riches, Highness.” I can’t be bought either.
“Even a brother of the Sixth Order may one day find himself in need of riches. Please, think of it as a talisman.”