The Scrivener's Tale #1

TWENTY-FOUR

King Tamas frowned. He had been given a suite of chambers in one of the wings of Stoneheart that clustered around a charming courtyard dedicated to herbs. From where he was now sitting, it looked to him like a work of art, a living sculpture in green. He was enchanted by the well-tended and clearly constantly replenished garden, for even the hedrill looked young, with tender leaves. At home the hedrill in the kitchen herb gardens turned woody within a season.
He found it intriguing that this palace, known for its imposing mass and dull, dark stone, was innately feminine at its heart. It was a lovely discovery, given that his own capital was pale and beautiful, often compared to a nymph. He was thoroughly enjoying some quiet time, made all the more pleasant by the fact that he had banished the ever-present retinue of servants and counsellors from his side.
So now he sat in the thaw sun of a Morgravian morning and inhaled the scent from the herbs; together they formed a new fragrance, with wafts of rosemary and shirl twisting around hedrill and thyme, jessamy and mint. He looked at the small posy of colourful flowers he’d picked and wondered why herbs were not used more often in the more lavish floral displays around Cipres.
He’d grown up learning about herbs and food, having spent a lot of his days lurking around the Ciprean palace kitchens. His closest friend in those childhood years had been Lacey, one of the scullery maids, so pretty she made most others appear dull. And despite her natural radiance she seemed to possess a limitless grasp on all things practical and worldly — from finding herbs in the garden to knowing how to bring out a bruise quickly. Lacey could run as fast as Tamas, sling a punch as quickly and take a black eye without more than a whimper. Whenever he could slip away from weapons and fighting drills, or horse training, or the dreaded academic studies, they were together. She was the first girl to kiss him and the last one he had truly loved. At ten summers his parents had thought it time he leave behind his childhood friends, especially those not of the same social standing, and he was removed to live in Tallinor.
When he returned fourteen moons later, Lacey was gone from the palace and he had no doubt his mother had made sure it happened. His father expected him to make his own way while he, something of an adventurer and learned man, travelled constantly on long voyages, leaving much of the raising of the three boys to their mother. The queen was a powerful figure, possessing a drive and ambition that their quieter father fed off. His mother essentially ran the realm while the king disappeared on his adventures. One couldn’t criticise the king too loudly, since his travels yielded advances in so many areas of knowledge that Cipres, despite its size, seemed to be at the forefront of everything from farming methods to education, as well as creating new industries in varied fields such as perfume and fruit preserving; and in developing its famed blue paint, toolook — with a lustre like no other — and also a pure and iridescent green known as ferge. These became so eye-poppingly expensive that the Crown had to take control of production as people killed each other for the right to collect the raw material.
And then the plague had come. It was believed to have arrived with the flotilla of ships that had sailed his father back to Cipres in Tamas’s eighteenth summer. The king’s gift to Cipres included far more than the silver pearls, a raft of new medicines and a beverage called dinch.
None of the medicines he’d acquired could touch the disease, which had travelled with the insects that made their way off the ship on the backs of the rats they infested, as well as in the hair and beards of the men who then carried them into homes, taverns, even the palace.
People had begun to die at a chaotic, tragic rate. Each day yielded a hundred more corpses. Royalty was not immune. The ‘Venturer’ plague, as it became known, claimed the lives of his mother and both brothers; he was spared, although he never understood why.
His sensitive father had died not long after from what was officially recorded as a fall. Tamas suspected, however, that King Wurt could not bear the guilt and had thrown himself from the cliffs.
Despite the depth of his grief, Tamas had risen to the challenge of taking charge of the realm. Cipres was small but advanced, and Tamas knew that he must work to the kingdom’s strengths to lift it out of grief. Education was the key and Lacey was his motivation; he could only imagine what she might have achieved if she’d had the benefit of his teachers to complement her ability to absorb information and extend her practical skills. Maybe their love could have been kindled rather than destroyed. Tamas implemented a new system to teach the young to read, to write, to calculate in their heads — no matter their family’s position in society.
Cipres had been right in its forward-thinking approach and, as a result, even its farms used methods that were ahead of their time, and yields from smallholdings soon tripled the grain harvests achieved by much larger pastures in neighbouring lands.
The young king had also travelled to every town, village and hamlet to comfort, offer support and generally see to the wellbeing of his people. He opened up the palace coffers to give aid to those in serious need — to families who’d lost their livelihood, to children who’d lost parents, to convents and monasteries that were taking care of the sick, lonely, needy, heartbroken. He built three new centres of medicine, strategically placed up and down the realm so their restoratives and knowledge were accessible to most people within a few days’ ride. And he built another wing to the learning academy specifically for physics. His schools — perhaps his greatest achievement and modelled on those of Cailech, when he was a young king in the Razors — were established in every major town over a certain size. He implemented a new system of rewards to families whose children achieved seven full cycles of consistent attendance at school — summer to summer. Cipres now had a new generation of educated farmers, smiths, bakers, millers.
Change was catching up with Tamas too; he was reaching the end of his fourth decade. He was nearly thirty-nine summers, more than twenty of them given to a feverish commitment to the Ciprean cause. In doing so he’d overlooked the most important aspect of what it is to be the sovereign: he’d neglected to take a queen, to give the Crown heirs, to give his people what they probably needed most … the future that children alone could provide.
As if in answer to his realisation, Princess Darcelle had arrived in his life like a breath of fresh, golden promise, brought to him under sail for a gathering of monarchs, but he was sure she was actually delivered to him by benevolent gods. He’d been charmed by her on sight for her beauty, but he appreciated her far more for her strength.
He’d since learned that there were sides to Darcelle’s personality he had to overlook. She was wealthy beyond most royals’ dreams and was addicted to having only the best; she took power for granted, revelling in the attention it won her, and she liked to use it to manipulate people. Darcelle was used to getting her way as the highly indulged youngest royal of Morgravia.
Thinking strategically, he was convinced she would make a fabulous Queen of Cipres. She was young and could bear him children for many years; a special bonus was that she was surprisingly politically astute, despite her delight in frippery, as he liked to call it. If he could use her manipulative skills for the benefit of furthering the Ciprean good, all the better. And if she were used to getting her way then he should put her in charge of some of his duties where her charm, beauty and skills could persuade people to support the Crown, where perhaps they might be criticising it.
What surprised him most about Darcelle was her affection for him and his sense that it was genuine. He had always believed the better-looking Ciprean princes had perished with the plague. His serious, handsome elder brother would have made a fine king, while the dashing younger brother would have charmed everyone into doing anything he asked of them. Tamas smiled at their memory — even so many years later, he missed them.
He was not so na?ve he didn’t appreciate that Darcelle’s fondness for him was partly fuelled by the crown he would place on her head at the same time as he put his ring on her finger. This didn’t matter to him — or so he’d convinced himself — as long as she cared enough for him that they might be good friends, good partners, a good royal team. The Cipreans were demanding a royal family, some even questioning his leanings. Did he love Darcelle? He didn’t know. Apart from Lacey and one other — a child he had no right to love from afar — he’d never felt anything for any woman other than lust, and he could do so much worse than beautiful Darcelle. Besides, there was no question that to marry Darcelle and link Cipres to Morgravia and the great empire that stretched beyond her boundaries would be a dream come true in every respect.
As if she knew he’d been thinking about her, the double doors into the courtyard burst open and the weeping bride-to-be flung herself into his arms. Tamas waited, knowing the tears would dry and she would explain herself. He was right and realised he would have to get used to this theatrical behaviour from now on. Not every girl had Lacey’s attitude.
Tamas listened, filtering her scorn through his own more balanced view. The drama, it seemed, was that Queen Florentyna had cancelled all festivities relating to the engagement. True, the news of so many curious deaths was deeply troubling and brought memories of the plague that had hit Cipres. He made a mental note to do a head count of his soldiers. He didn’t believe anyone from his retinue within the palace had suffered.
Darcelle calmed. ‘I could sail with you today and we could elope.’
He stroked her hair, which looked and felt like it was spun from golden silk. ‘You don’t mean that —’
‘I do, Tamas, I —’
‘Stop, my love. Give an older man some credit,’ he jested. ‘You would always live to regret such a decision, and besides, why cheat your people of their rightful celebrations?’
‘I’m not! She is!’
‘She has good reason … certainly I can see it from Florentyna’s point of view. If this was Cipres, I too would put this matter ahead of celebrations. She is entirely within her rights to pursue what is killing her people.’
‘Putting off our events will not raise the dead.’ He gave her a look of mild admonishment at such a heartless comment and Darcelle shrugged. ‘Tamas, I’m furious!’
‘I can see that and I understand it.’
‘She’s so angered me. Talking to me like I’m a servant.’
‘A servant of the Crown, perhaps?’
She slapped him — not hard, but not playfully either. ‘You know exactly what I mean. I deserve more respect. I’m not a child, but she still treats me as one. Florentyna should censure her haughty attitude. What’s more, she attacked me publicly. It was humiliating.’
‘Would you like me to talk with her?’
‘She’s being unreasonable — her usual obstinate and superior self!’
She hadn’t said nay to him having a word with Florentyna. ‘It was only a picnic … a feast or two,’ he reasoned, shrugging deeply to make her smile. ‘On the journey of life, it’s not that important.’
But Darcelle was not amused. ‘You’re not understanding, are you, my love? It’s not the celebrations to which I refer. She has effectively cancelled the marriage.’
Tamas’s humour left him. He blinked at her while the words sunk in. ‘I don’t understand.’
Darcelle became more animated the moment she sensed his confusion. ‘No, I didn’t think you had. Listen to me, Tamas. You and your Ciprean contingent will likely be told to climb aboard your ships and sail home. She brooks no discussion on when or where any wedding will take place — if at all. She’s claiming she’s too busy with matters of state, but is too short-sighted to take care of something that’s going to do more for Morgravia in the wearing of one small golden ring than she might achieve in a lifetime.’ Darcelle gave a bitter smirk. ‘She’s never been comfortable with me marrying before she does. Let’s face it, I don’t see a tower of marriage betrothals on her desk. If Florentyna’s not careful, our children are all she’ll have to pass her precious crown on to.’
‘That would suit me,’ Tamas thought, not realising he’d expressed it aloud.
‘And me,’ Darcelle echoed. ‘She can’t take this away from us.’
Tamas felt on shaky ground for the first time. It had not occurred to him that his happiness could be taken away on Queen Florentyna’s whim. Still, he tempered his mood; even in their brief conversation he’d found the queen to be level-headed and charming, and surprisingly beautiful, despite her sister’s claims of plainness. ‘Let’s not jump to any wrong conclusions, my love. I promise you,’ he said, taking her hands and kissing them gently, ‘nothing will stop me making you my queen.’
She nestled herself into his arms and kissed him hard. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘and I want it more than anything.’
‘Be patient then. Let me talk with Florentyna.’ As she opened her mouth to interject, he placed his fingertips to her lips. ‘Sovereign to sovereign,’ he said, with a knowing smile. ‘Be still for a while. Wait here for me. I’ve sent my people away, so I could have some peace. You will not be disturbed, although guards will be posted outside. Listen to the song of birds, the hum of busy bees and enjoy the sunshine. I shall be back shortly with good news. You will have your ring, your crown, your very own realm — that I promise you.’
Darcelle embraced him, and he felt her trust in him. He would not let her down.
Florentyna stared, ashen-faced, at the body of Burrage. He had died on his balcony. It was only on the second search that people had discovered the chancellor slumped outside the windows of his chamber, and had laid him out on his bed.
He looked younger, now that his expression was no longer pulled into its permanent frown of worry.
‘… As though his heart just gave out, your majesty. Same as the others. Master Clem, who helped me to move him to the bed, took the liberty of closing his eyes,’ a servant prattled.
‘Thank you, Fay,’ the queen said. Florentyna dabbed at a helpless tear and sniffed. ‘Forgive me. He will be missed. I wish I understood what has happened to us. Struck down like this; no sign of disease or struggle.’ She noticed Cassien, who had been standing silently by the door observing. ‘Leave us, please,’ she ordered and the three other people in the room gladly departed.
Cassien presumed she wished the door closed and obliged. He waited.
‘Is this the demon’s work?’ she mused unhappily. ‘Is this how he plans to hurt the Crown? Is he going to pick us all off one by one?’
‘No, your majesty. This is not the work of a demon,’ he answered truthfully.
‘How can you know that?’
‘I know.’
He said it with such quiet force that she took a step away to scrutinise him. ‘Then what is this? Disease? Do I have to cordon off Stoneheart?’
He shook his head.
‘And you know this for sure as well?’ she said. Her tone was bitter, rather than mocking.
‘Your majesty, it will not occur again.’ He didn’t believe Florentyna would ever trust him if she knew he had caused this through carelessness. ‘I trust my instincts implicitly. I’m asking you to do the same. What has happened here is not an attack in any traditional sense.’
‘Then what is it?’ she demanded in such an agonised voice that he felt her pain.
‘An aberration,’ he offered.
She stared at him in stunned disbelief. ‘Oh, that’s going to sound convincing when I have to stand before my people to reassure them.’
‘Then don’t,’ he said. ‘Follow the plan to contain it. No-one on the outside of Stoneheart need know. Burrage died of a heart attack, some of old age, the rest of poison from the filligo greens cooked last night and not boiled long enough to take away their toxicity.’
Now she looked at him in undisguised horror. ‘Lie?’ she said baldly.
‘Not entirely a lie if you don’t know what the truth is.’
She folded her arms and the set of her mouth told him that his reasoning was not going to wash.
He sighed. ‘Offer an explanation to appease the worry and prevent panic. Gather up your staff, hunt down anyone who is aware of the deaths and find out if they only know about isolated ones. If so, let it be. Anyone aware of multiple deaths, counsel them. Do it directly. They will be in awe that the queen is addressing them. Assure them you will find out what caused this, but that you need their silence until you do. Appeal to them, your majesty … tell them their quiet tongues will prevent panic and more deaths, and that’s exactly what you’re facing if word begins to get out.’
She nodded. He despised himself for making his lie sound so sensible, when he knew the true culprit.
‘Cassien, here lies my chancellor. A very good man. I can’t even spare the time to grieve for him because lots of other very good men and women, and some children, have also died equally mysteriously. And he is the second chancellor I have lost in a short period, and both have left me under mysterious circumstances. Something is happening here. I don’t understand it and I don’t know what to do. I’m under siege. My counsel is dead, my sister suddenly hates me, I have a king under my roof — to whom we’re not giving proper respect — and an attempt was made on my life yesterday morning. Can you appreciate how unravelled I am feeling?’
He nodded.
‘And you’re here, calm as cake, suggesting this is all an aberration, when you yourself are perhaps the strangest of the bizarre happenings. You arrive out of nowhere, save my life, take charge, speak about demons and have knowledge I need yet you won’t share because you belong to a secret society.’ Her voice had risen but not become louder.
‘My queen, I come to you with only your safety and the preservation of the Crown as my single duty. I will not let you down, but you have to listen to me above any other, and perhaps even against your instincts. Burrage is dead. I am sorry for you, but let him go. Let the dead go and do as I say, for a greater threat is coming.’
‘I do trust you, Cassien. Curiously, you seem to be the only bit of sanity I can cling to.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, glancing over at the desk. ‘May I?’
She nodded. Cassien read out a list that Burrage had obviously been swiftly scrawling before he died. The chancellor must have been working into the early morning on this, for Cassien knew his roaming had only begun in the hours before dawn. Burrage had just finished presumably and had gone out onto the balcony. He was convinced now that only those outside of Stoneheart’s walls at the time of his roaming were affected by it.
The queen joined him, sighing as she read her chancellor’s notes.
‘Burrage worked tirelessly for the Crown. I don’t think I recall ever asking him about his family or his early life. How selfish of me. And how sad that his last thought was “visit by Merchant Tentrell with Princess Darcelle and King Tamas at fifth bell”,’ she read. ‘It doesn’t do him justice that he was concerned with such minutiae while his life was in the balance.’ She sounded bereft.
Cassien scanned the list again and focused the queen. ‘This is a checklist he was making for today’s picnic, I gather?’
She shrugged. ‘Looks like it. He dropped dead while working. He was so loyal.’
‘Who is Tentrell?’ he said, pointing again to the final entry.
‘A wealthy merchant from Robissun Marth, as I understand. He has a wedding gift to present. Why? Is it important?’
He gave a small shake of his head. Burrage had died because of Cassien; there was no reason to be looking for clues here. And still something nagged. ‘Not important. However, everything on his list relates to the picnic arrangements, except this last entry. Presumably lots of people will be presented to them. Why is this man special?’
She gave a small frowning shake of her head. ‘It’s not that he is so special. More that his gift is extraordinarily generous. Darcelle would cut off a limb to own it.’
‘So Tentrell’s personal presentation is considered important,’ he qualified.
Florentyna nodded. ‘It was important enough for Burrage to write it down. Which meant the request came through him. Burrage is … was,’ she corrected in a voice laced with sadness, ‘always thorough. Always worried he wouldn’t live up to how well Chancellor Reynard took care of us all.’ She turned to look at the body again, noting his ink-stained fingers, which she held, as if in farewell.
Cassien could see her mind was turning to maudlin thoughts. ‘Let’s get Burrage moved to the chapel, majesty. You’ll feel better to know he’s in Shar’s house.’
Nevertheless, having left Burrage to the servants, Cassien still had a nagging feeling that he had missed something.

TWENTY-FIVE

Darcelle was still fuming in the king’s courtyard, when she heard someone clear his throat.
‘Your highness, please forgive my interruption.’
She leapt up, startled. ‘Who let you in?’
The man before her didn’t move, clearly not wanting to frighten her. ‘The guards permitted me, your highness, and I was told to come by at fifth bell to meet with the king.’
Darcelle looked at him confused. ‘Fifth bell?’ she repeated. ‘The king said nothing to me — in fact I got the impression he was expecting no-one. You absolutely should not be here. I am calling a guard.’
‘Please wait, Princess Darcelle. Either King Tamas might have forgotten, or perhaps was never told of the arrangement.’
‘Arrangement?’
‘I have royal permission,’ he said, shaking a small roll of parchment at her. ‘It’s signed by Chancellor Burrage, delivered to me early last evening. I … I’m here to see King Tamas. It’s about a jewel for you,’ the man said hastily, bowing and backing away. ‘Please forgive me. I shall leave. I want no trouble.’
‘Wait!’ Darcelle commanded. ‘A jewel, you say?’
‘For King Tamas,’ the man repeated. ‘I was told you would be here as well. I was to expect both of you so I’m sure it’s not wrong of me to mention the jewel …’ His voice trailed off.
‘Your name?’ she demanded, but Darcelle’s voice was far less shrill now. She was intrigued. Tamas had failed to mention the visitor, had explicitly said she’d be left in peace. Perhaps this was meant to be a surprise for her from her betrothed. And Burrage … odd that he hadn’t arranged for this man to present his gift to them at the picnic. Even odder that he be given access to the royal rooms. However, she couldn’t pass up the chance of a jewel from her beloved.
‘I am Merchant Tentrell.’
She frowned, only now registering how good-looking he was, with that dark hair and smoky, dark blue eyes that seemed to hold amusement. He carried himself tall and was dressed in fine clothes, she could see. ‘Your name is familiar. You’re Morgravian?’
‘Oh, through and through, highness,’ he said, flashing a bright smile, although he lowered his eyes once more. ‘I’m not seen often in Pearlis. I do all my trading in the exotic ports … cities like Percheron.’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure I’ve heard of you now. Merchant Tentrell … of Robissun Marth, is that right?’
‘It is. But we have not met, surely?’
‘No, your reputation precedes you, sir,’ she giggled, choosing to flirt now with the handsome merchant. Why she held an image of an older, paunchier man, she couldn’t recall. ‘Percheron. My sister has a horse from there.’
‘Does she?’
‘A gift from its zar. The most magnificent Pearl mare. She’s beautiful. I often wish she were mine. Florentyna has been generous to lend Pearl — as she was predictably named — to King Tamas for his stay. He loves to ride, you see.’ Tentrell smiled broadly and she noted his white, even teeth. A truly handsome man. Darcelle sighed. ‘It has been a long-held dream of mine to visit the wondrous city of Percheron.’
‘Perfect, your highness, because the jewel I bring for King Tamas is called the Star of Percheron.’
She sucked in a breath. ‘You jest, Master Tentrell.’
‘Not at all, your highness. But forgive me, I thought you knew. Where is the king, may I ask?’
‘He is with my sister. An unexpected meeting.’
‘Well, as I say, perhaps he’s forgotten. Or maybe he hasn’t been told of our meeting. Chancellor Burrage was to arrange it. Oh dear, I feel embarrassed now for it must feel like trespass.’
‘No, no, Master Tentrell. Please don’t feel badly,’ she said. ‘The truth is Master Burrage is …’ She hesitated. He looked at her in enquiry and she couldn’t help herself but admit that this Tentrell was disarmingly attractive; she felt vaguely guilty for thinking it on the brink of her engagement. He watched her with intensity, almost hungrily, which was confusing because something in the back of her mind suggested that this man’s tastes did not run to women; the rumours must have been wrong. Probably jealously. Perhaps like all men he was helpless in the face of her beauty. ‘Please, join me,’ she said, gesturing for him to walk deeper into the garden. ‘I was enjoying this long-awaited spring sunshine while the king is absent.’
He obliged but kept his distance. ‘Your highness, you were going to say something …?’ he queried.
‘Yes … yes, that’s right,’ she said. ‘The truth is, Chancellor Burrage died through the night, and that’s likely why I hadn’t been told of your meeting. I don’t believe the king is aware of it either.’
‘Shar’s breath! Burrage looked hale yesterday.’
‘Indeed, it is a shock for all of us.’
‘Heart?’ Tentrell wondered.
She shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. I was only told on my way here. May I offer you some refreshment, Master Tentrell? Or perhaps some cherries? They are the violets — the best Morgravia’s southern orchards can provide.’ She gestured at the untouched plate of fruit that had been provided for Tamas earlier. The cherries gleamed plump and ripe, shining beneath the soft sunlight, vividly violet.
‘I haven’t tasted cherries in centuries,’ he said, winning a smile from her at his exaggeration. ‘And the violets have such a short life. I always seem to be on a voyage in this season and this time is no different. I’ll be leaving shortly. But how lucky you are to have them so early.’
She grinned. ‘One of the rights of being a royal is the end-of-thaw, early-blossomtide fruits. I tasted some when I broke my fast this morning. They are sweet and tender. Please, help yourself or perhaps you’ll miss out again.’
He did sample a handful, she was glad to see. ‘My, so juicy,’ he said, eating three at once and licking the telltale liquid from his fingers. He politely blew the stones into his hand before tossing them into the bushes.
Darcelle giggled. ‘And now your lips are blue. You know it can linger, don’t you? I had to virtually scrub mine clean this morning.’
He tittered with effeminate affectation. It sounded false but, even so, this is what she’d expected the Tentrell she’d heard about would be, and yet it contradicted that hungry look of earlier. ‘I shall proudly wear it,’ he teased. ‘My royal violet lip balm.’ She grinned, liking his uninhibited way; around Stoneheart this was refreshing behaviour. ‘Well, your highness. As you’ve given me a special treat of prized Morgravian cherries, perhaps I might be permitted to show you this glorious jewel. I may have misled you. King Tamas is not buying this jewel.’
‘Oh?’ she said, mystified and deeply disappointed.
‘No, it is from the people of Robissun Marth as our wedding gift. We can’t think of a more beautiful person to show off this magnificent gem than our own Princess Darcelle as she becomes a queen in her own right.’
She gave a small gasp of pleasure. He was certainly speaking to her heart. ‘But how did …?’ she began.
He laughed, producing a velvet sack. ‘Your highness, this stone is mine. I acquired it and have had it a long time. I owe a lot to the Crown — your father was always generous to me — and this is one way of showing my gratitude, and I am also doing this on behalf of my fellow townsfolk. This is a gift that I can afford to give from us to you. I hope you’ll wear it with pride when the Cipreans first glimpse the beauty of their new queen.’
She held her breath as he tipped the magnificent teardrop-shaped gem into his palm. Even from that distance it looked to be on fire.
‘The Star of Percheron was worn by the favourite wife of the zar many centuries previously. While it was once worn by the famous royal woman around her belly, I have had it fashioned to be worn on a gold chain hung around the forehead,’ he said, miming placing it around his own.
Darcelle could only watch, fascinated.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of having a special golden loop provided, so should you prefer, you may wear it dangling from a circlet, your highness. Then it can be worn as part of a crown or alone, as you choose.’
He held it up so its fire caught the sunlight and danced for her. Darcelle’s eyes grew wide with intense pleasure. She was already imagining herself naked in the king’s bed on their wedding night, wearing only this jewel. She would need nothing else.
‘Master Tentrell, you’ve taken my breath away.’
He looked pleased. ‘That was my intention,’ he said. ‘The Star of Percheron deserves to be worn on the most beautiful forehead in the empire.’
She giggled as he stepped forward, the huge, heavy jewel glittering as the light bounced off its facets and sent rainbow rays arcing against a mirror set into the courtyard wall.
‘May I, your highness?’ he asked, his manners gracious. He bowed.
‘Why not?’ she said, turning and allowing Tentrell to clasp the chain around her head.
‘There,’ he said and stepped back as she turned once more to face him. He gave a soft sigh of what sounded like disbelief. ‘Princess, someone should paint you just as you stand there, in this garden, more radiant and gorgeous than any woman alive, I’d wager.’
She felt herself blush. She was used to flattery but it had been a long time since it could affect her. Darcelle felt a fresh energy beneath his praise.
‘See for yourself, your highness,’ he said, gesturing at the bird fountain, where the still waters would show her reflection. ‘King Tamas is going to catch his breath to see it on you. You’ll need no other adornment on your wedding night,’ he confided with a knowing wink.
She felt the heat rush to her cheeks again, wondering if he had dropped in on her thoughts. ‘You’re very kind, Master Tentrell,’ she said, stealing a glimpse of herself. She had to admit, it looked far more glorious than she’d imagined.
‘On behalf of the people of Robissun Marth, may we wish you our love, our blessing on your marriage and only happiness for all your days and your new life in Cipres. Come visit us sometime and wear the Star of Percheron for us.’
Darcelle stepped forward. ‘Master Tentrell, can you not wait to meet Tamas?’ They were close enough now to embrace. He seemed aware of this, she sensed, and she liked him for being so careful in her company. He was superbly handsome, she thought again, in spite of his blue lips. What a senseless waste if he did prefer men.
‘Forgive me, highness, but I am leaving on a ship tomorrow, bound for faraway lands, beyond Percheron. It’s why Master Burrage permitted me this special appointment, or I might have had to queue with all the other well-wishers. I know you will pass on to King Tamas my respectful felicitations.’
‘Pity.’ She was genuinely sorry that Tamas would not meet Tentrell. Besides, she would have liked his company a little longer. She was also feeling vaguely irritated; having admitted to herself that Tentrell was handsome, he suddenly reminded her of that stranger, Cassien, who was hanging around Florentyna like a constant cloud of darkness.
‘Well, beautiful princess,’ he said, sketching the lowest and most elegant of bows just a breath away from her, ‘perhaps you will allow me to kiss your hand in farewell. I will treasure the memory throughout my long and no doubt arduous voyage. But frankly, Princess Darcelle, should the great water serpent rise up and take my ship, I shall be able to die happy because of this moment.’
‘Oh, you wicked flirt, Master Tentrell,’ she joked, waving a hand at him. She wished she’d met him a long time ago, for she was sure he would have provided her with lots of interesting trinkets.
‘Please, you must call me Layne,’ he offered.
‘Well then, Layne, you must promise to come to Cipres. Spend some time at our court, as our guest, on your return,’ she urged.
His eyes widened with pleasure. ‘I won’t even bother to come home with that invitation waiting for me, highness. I shall sail straight for Cipres, bringing with me all the treasures of the east so you can view them first.’
She gave a smiling nod to show she was impressed, then held out her hand with an even broader smile. ‘Farewell, dear Layne. I am in awe of your gift and will wear it on my wedding day with pride.’
‘You do the people of Robissun Marth a great honour,’ Tentrell said, reaching for her hand, bending over it and laying his lips against her skin.
She shivered at his touch, and then he was no longer kissing the back of her hand as she felt his mouth on her palm and his tongue licking it and she’d never felt anything so lustful. Now his warm lips moved up her arm, making the hairs on the back of her neck wake up in tingling response to a new sort of awakening deep within. He was rapidly working his way up to her face and she was helpless to stop him.
‘Master Tentrell,’ she murmured, scared but at the same time lost in the moment of passion. She had lied to Florentyna about lying with Tamas. He was far too correct to have taken advantage of her presence or her youth and na?vety. She had just wanted to shock her conservative, stuffy sister … and had. She knew that Tamas wanted both her youth and virginity. He had been prepared to wait for it and would give her a realm for it.
She loved Tamas, but she’d never had a lover. Now handsome Layne Tentrell, who clearly was not a half-man, was kissing her in an intimate way she had never experienced. She’d truly never felt anything so sensual. Suitors had been part of her life, but while the ardour had been there, the kisses were perfunctory as there had been chaperones at every turn. Here she was, for the first time truly alone with a man who obviously had no inhibitions about what may or not be regally prudent, and she was all but melting beneath him like a bitch on heat. His warm breath on her neck was making her gasp, the way he bit at her ear made her see sparkling lights beneath her closed eyelids and all the while she felt a throb of need … of desire.
Tentrell pulled away. ‘Your highness,’ he began, his voice throaty and full of longing.
‘Don’t stop,’ she uttered, horrified and yet unable to help herself. ‘Kiss me,’ she begged.
Cassien had withdrawn to stand some distance from the two sovereigns. Tamas had only just managed to corner Florentyna in her solar for a brief private meeting when a messenger ran in wide-eyed, not bothering to knock or present himself properly.
The queen looked appropriately mystified at this break in protocol.
‘Your majesty, forgive me,’ he blurted, ‘but I was sent in all haste. It’s Princess Darcelle.’
‘Shar, no!’ Florentyna exclaimed, her mind clearly winging to the worst scenario. ‘Not dead, please Shar. Not the magic on her.’
Cassien gave her a frowning look. When had she made the leap to magic? Her remark, however, had been lost in the chaos of the moment.
‘She’s fine, your majesty,’ the messenger assured her. ‘It’s her visitor. He dropped dead before her. She says she needs you.’
‘Oh, my precious girl,’ Florentyna uttered. ‘Tamas …’
But the king was already moving. ‘I told them no visitors when I left,’ he growled, and only just managed to stop himself pushing the queen aside. Cassien realised Tamas wasn’t used to anyone going before him.
‘Where is she?’ Florentyna demanded of the servant.
‘In my suite?’ Tamas roared, and the servant nodded.
Cassien blinked. It wasn’t possible for someone to die after the roaming. This didn’t make sense. ‘Let’s go,’ he said and, with the queen between himself and Tamas, they ran after the servant through the twists and turns of corridors. They seemed to gather people along the way — guards followed and so did other servants. Cassien left everyone else waiting in the king’s entrance chamber while he, Florentyna and Tamas continued through the suite into the herb garden. They found Darcelle sitting beneath a mosaic set in the wall, a linen handkerchief dabbing at her nose. Her two senior maids were with her, offering comfort. They stood and immediately dropped into low curtsies on sighting the two sovereigns. Darcelle didn’t bother to even look up.
‘I’m all right, I’m all right,’ she said, holding up a hand.
‘Thank Shar’s blessings,’ Florentyna said and Cassien could hear the tightness and terror in her voice. She sat on the bench beside Darcelle and put her arms around her sister and hugged her, all previous offence forgotten. ‘What happened, dear one? Why were you alone?’
Over the top of the queen’s words, Tamas was demanding to know about the corpse at his feet. ‘Who in hell’s flames is this?’ he demanded of his own personal guards, standing by the doorway, shocked and embarrassed.
‘The man had papers, my liege,’ his senior guard said. ‘Chancellor Burrage had granted him access. The queen’s seal was upon it.’ They pointed to where the parchment lay on the ground, near Tentrell’s corpse, which lay face down.
‘I wasn’t here,’ Tamas roared at the man.
The guard shrank and Cassien felt sorry for him. ‘We changed watch, my king, from Morgravian to Ciprean. I was not told that you’d left. I was simply informed that Princess Darcelle was within. We doubled the guard as a result. Her own servants waited alongside.’
Tamas’s shoulders dropped. Cassien reckoned the king had wisely decided to cool his rage and not create a scene when more important matters were at stake. ‘My princess is safe. That’s what matters,’ Tamas said. The king turned back to Darcelle. ‘Did he touch you, my love?’
She shook her head, emerging from Florentyna’s embrace. ‘No, no, not at all,’ she said, now dabbing at her eyes. She pointed at the jewel in her hand. ‘But he did give me this.’ At everyone’s noises of surprise she explained all about Tentrell’s visit. By its end, her somewhat forced tears had dried and her sniffs were getting less frequent, Cassien noticed. ‘He was kind and funny,’ she added.
‘And what actually happened, Princess Darcelle?’ Cassien said, speaking for the first time. As was usual for him he stood aside from everyone.
‘What do you mean?’ she said, frowning at him.
Her eyes were not even red, he noted. ‘Did he make a sound, clutch his heart, call out to you for help?’
‘All of those,’ she answered, growing haughty at having to answer his questions. ‘His eyes grew wide as if in pain and then he put his hand here,’ she said, mimicking the motion by touching her chest. ‘He groaned and then he cried out for help.’
‘And then he fell here?’ Cassien pointed.
She nodded, frowning. ‘Why is he asking these questions, Florentyna?’
The queen stood, giving Cassien a glare to halt his questions. She moved to the entrance of the courtyard, where it led into the king’s guest rooms, and beckoned. Two maids emerged.
‘Take my sister to her chambers and wait for me there. Make up a warm bath for her. She is in shock. Tamas, will you send some of your guards with ours, please? It might reassure you to have some of your people around Darcelle,’ she offered. It was a kind gesture, Cassien thought. ‘No-one is to go in or out of Darcelle’s rooms without my permission other than you two,’ she said to the maids, both of them senior, and taking in the guards with her glare as well. ‘Understood? No-one. I don’t care if they’re waving a paper with my personal signature on it.’
They both dropped obediently into a low curtsey in answer and the guards bowed low to show they understood too.
‘Go now, dear one,’ she urged Darcelle gently.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ the princess whimpered.
‘Soon enough,’ Florentyna assured her. ‘We have a few things to sort and find out. But you’ll be safe now.’
Darcelle looked to her king. ‘Tamas?’ she asked wearily, expecting him to follow.
‘King Tamas,’ Cassien said quietly. ‘Er, forgive me, your majesty, but it may be helpful if you stayed.’
Tamas frowned, glanced at Florentyna, who shook her head, unsure. Cassien added. ‘Please, your majesty. We should get to the bottom of this.’
The king shrugged. ‘Of course, however I can help. Go on, my love. Your sister’s quite right. This has been a shock and you need to rest; have some quiet time.’
Darcelle threw Cassien a sharp glance he couldn’t decipher but she allowed herself to be led quietly away.
Cassien asked everyone else to leave the courtyard, save the three guards. Word had obviously got around the palace that his orders should be obeyed.
Florentyna looked at him as he closed the doors and walked back into the garden. ‘What’s going on?’
Cassien sighed. ‘Something’s not right.’
‘Something?’ Tamas mocked. ‘Nothing’s right! Anything could have happened to her. People have been dying in the palace overnight from some strange phenomenon, including your own chancellor, plus festivities have been cancelled …’ He held up his hands in defence. ‘Believe me, Queen Florentyna, I would do the same under the circumstances but these are strange times.’
‘Cassien?’ she urged.
‘Let’s have the body moved to the chapel and have it put somewhere separate. I want to look at Tentrell properly. But not here.’
‘I’ve had all the dead taken to the crypt of the cathedral. There were too many for our chapel; only Burrage is there, together with the dowager.’
‘Then there’s room for Tentrell.’
She nodded at the remaining men. ‘Take this man to Stoneheart’s chapel. No-one is to go in or out until Master Cassien gives permission.’
They bowed and silently removed him. Cassien picked up the fallen parchment, glanced at it.
‘Tamas, I’ve just realised you haven’t been properly introduced. Forgive me. This is Cassien Figaret, my champion, or more rightly, my shadow.’ She smiled faintly at her jest. ‘He’s now entirely in charge of my security.’
‘That’s wise. I think you should do the same for Darcelle.’
‘Perhaps that will be your role, sir, soon enough,’ Florentyna said gently. ‘I’m thinking it might be best for her to sail with you to Cipres on the morrow.’
‘But …’ His gaze narrowed. ‘What about the Pearlis wedding?’
‘I realise this is a hasty decision but in light of what’s happening, I think it will prove unwise. Better she be married in Cipres. Morgravia is not a safe place at present.’
‘Do you really mean that? Not about the safety … about the wedding being held in Cipres?’ Tamas asked, astonished.
‘I do,’ she said. ‘I just want her to be happy and I think you can do that for her. I know she would love to be married as a queen in front of her new people. It makes sense.’
‘But your tradition, Florentyna?’
She made a soft sound of dismissal. ‘Tradition should be broken every now and then … for the right reasons,’ she said and treated him to one of her rare smiles.
Cassien watched the exchange between the two monarchs. It looked effortless and sounded honest. They were going to make a sound strategic ‘marriage’, given that both were keen to find solutions. It was a pity that they weren’t the betrothed.
‘You make me proud to call you sister, Queen Florentyna. I’m sorry that Darcelle painted you in such a poor light — she said you’d cancelled the wedding plans.’
Florentyna sighed. ‘My sister is wound rather tight at present, sir. Forgive her, as I do.’
He nodded. ‘Such pragmatism is rare.’ She dipped her head at the compliment, although both of their gazes lingered a little longer on each other than Cassien thought politic.
‘So, Cassien,’ Tamas said, clearing his throat and turning from the queen, ‘I sensed an undercurrent earlier. Why don’t you say what’s on your mind?’
Cassien was impressed. He found himself liking Tamas more by the moment, but the king would not like him shortly. He took a breath. ‘Forgive me, both of you, but I don’t believe that what Princess Darcelle told us is what actually occurred here.’
He felt the former warmth chill around him as though blossomtide had forgotten her place and sneaked back behind her cooler cousin.
‘You think my sister lied?’ Florentyna said.
‘Let me just tell you what I saw. Forgive me, please, if I offend.’ He didn’t wait for their response for there was no easy way to say what he wanted and not offend both royals. ‘I saw a mark on her forehead and through her hair. She had worn that heavy jewel he’d brought. I doubt very much that she could have put it on easily without help, and she would have needed to ask and give permission for him to approach. I think Tentrell did touch the princess at her behest. When he fell, I suspect she pulled the jewel and its chain off, which might explain the telltale strands of hair that had come loose from her otherwise perfect styling.’
Florentyna was as still as ice and looked at him with a gaze to match. ‘Go on.’
‘Her lips, your majesty.’
‘Stained with cherry juice,’ the queen finished, looking unimpressed by this observation.
‘She ate the cherries, man!’ Tamas growled. ‘What’s your point?’
‘Perhaps. Your guest did too,’ Cassien said. ‘I noted his lips and fingers were stained as well. I’ll wager his tongue is blackened from the juice.’
‘So?’ Florentyna said.
‘Your sister’s tongue was clean, her teeth white, her fingers unstained. If she ate cherries, she swallowed them whole. Did you see your sister’s neck?’
‘No … I —’
‘Oh, this is preposterous,’ Tamas said, losing patience. ‘What are you suggesting?’
Cassien cleared his throat again and forced himself to say it. ‘Forgive me, your majesties, but I believe Tentrell kissed Princess Darcelle, or so the telltale cherry juice suggests.’ He expected howls but he was given only frigid silence. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added.
Tamas growled and launched himself at Cassien, but fell into the yielding softness of air; the champion had leapt nimbly, dancing back silently.
‘I’m going to flay the very skin from your frame for that accusation.’
Cassien shook his head. ‘And pigs might fly, your majesty. You won’t even get close enough to reach me with that Ciprean sword.’
Tamas yelled and drew his sword with a rasping sound of iron. He looked astonished to see a magnificent sword, already drawn, already poised to strike, just a hair’s breadth from his throat.
‘I serve the Queen of Morgravia. I have no duty to the King of Cipres, so put your blade away, majesty. I alone have permission to draw a weapon in her company.’ Cassien’s tone was chilling.
‘Stop! Both of you!’ Florentyna commanded. ‘Kill each other later. I have more important matters than watching you two making each other’s hackles rise. We’re all on the same side here. And Cassien, you’d better be prepared to back up your alarming claim with fact. Why would Darcelle lie for Tentrell? And what has that got to do with his death?’
The men stared angrily at each other. It was Tamas who sheathed his sword first, which again impressed Cassien. Only a confident king would do so in service of the common good. So he apologised, bowing low to the sovereign of Cipres. ‘Forgive me, your majesty. As you say, these are strange times and if I’m overly protective of our queen, you can surely understand why.’
‘Answer Florentyna’s question.’
‘I sense Darcelle’s protecting him.’
‘He’s a stranger. I can say with all confidence that she has never met the man previously. Please, Tamas, believe me,’ Florentyna offered.
The king glanced at Cassien. ‘Be very careful.’
‘Let’s go to the chapel,’ Cassien said. ‘I’ll show you what I saw. Make up your own minds. One more thing.’ They both looked expectantly at him. ‘This permission from Burrage,’ he waved the parchment, ‘makes it very clear that it was for the picnic only.’ He looked between them. ‘Tentrell took it upon himself to ease his way past the guards and into this courtyard.’
In her bath, Princess Darcelle allowed the warm suds to soothe away her fears … at least that’s what she conveyed to her maids, begging them to leave her alone so she could have just a few moments of peace to gather her thoughts.
They agreed, but said they would be standing on the other side of her chamber door. When the door latch clicked and she heard the key turn in that lock — for they were taking no chances on this strange day — a smile stretched across Princess Darcelle’s cherry-stained mouth.
And her smile was heavy with old cunning.
I didn’t know you could do that, my love, Aphra said, her voice full of awe. The magic has evolved.
Not really, Cyricus replied, amused. It’s taken my knowledge to change it. You don’t give me enough credit, Aphra.
Change it? Then why did my form as Angelina have to die? I rather liked it and I know you would have.
You’re not thinking, are you? We couldn’t have a disturbance in the worlds. The body of Angelina belonged there, not here. I’m more likely to grieve the loss of Gabriel’s body. I don’t like being female — makes me think of Lyana,’ Cyricus said and spat at the bathwater.
But the kiss. How did you do it? It’s so clean; no messy death.
Cyricus chuckled, his hate for the goddess instantly set aside. Well, you see, in Myrren’s view, when she first cast this spell, she was so full of anger, her need for vengeance so raw, she designed her magic to be spiteful. In every way it was harmful … to its host and to the victims it worked on. It was such a cynical magic, I continue to be impressed by it. But I’ve had centuries to lick my wounds, Aphra. My anger is so cold, it has turned white in my mind. It’s now a thing of pure, hard beauty. It feels nothing but the satisfaction of seeing itself coming to fruition. And it is patient. My revenge will be taken slowly, painfully and without the mistakes that anger prompts. Myrren’s magic demanded pain and blood. I don’t need to hurt people like Darcelle … she’s irrelevant — nothing more than a host. I just want her dead — her spirit gone. Did you feel her fright?
I did, my love. I revelled in her fear.
And she fled to her god, allowing us to enter her body — so much neater, don’t you think, than how we entered Gabe, or you entered Angelina, leaving our former hosts bloodied? This way is neat, painless, soundless. And imagine, the last physical sensation she felt was a kiss … infinitely more subtle than a blade.
I wonder what they’ll make of Gabriel’s death? Aphra remarked. What if someone knows he’s not the real Tentrell?
It was time to leave Gabe’s body. I had hoped to hang on to it a little longer, but I have a grander plan about my ultimate host, so I can wait. I suspect Gabe’s body will be laid out somewhere and hopefully forgotten about for the time being as the queen has much to deal with. The news of Tentrell’s death will still be filtering through and it will be assumed the gardener killed him. Now we have a beautiful new host. It’s odd to be a woman, I’ll admit, but it makes the cunning of this magic so much more fun. They have no idea who is among them!
That bodyguard of the queen was suspicious.
I noticed. Cassien is his name. I won’t forget it either. But he’s suspicious of only things mortal, my love. He has no idea what has come to visit Morgravia.
He laughed and Aphra joined him as Cyricus dipped Darcelle’s beautiful body even deeper into the warm depths of the bath.