Ashes of Roses (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 4) (2 page)

Very noble of him, I supposed, save that his decision left my sister the Crown Princess in the unenviable position of being quite possibly the continent’s greatest matrimonial catch…with no one to claim her. Princes from South Eredor all the way east to Purth had been promised since birth, and although I had no doubt most of them would have cheerfully abandoned their intended brides the same way the earl’s son had discarded my sister, they did not have understanding fathers to deal with the way the earl had. At any rate, all but one of them were married already anyway.

Lyarris’ unattached state was another of Keldryn’s favorite topics when he wasn’t harping on me to find a suitable wife. But while there were other possibilities — several dukes without wives, or men of equal rank in Farendon and Purth — I found myself reluctant to hand her over so blithely. Her counsel was often better than that of my advisors, and I knew I would miss her terribly if I sent her away. If she had come to me with violent declarations of love for some noble or another, I suppose I would have made myself listen to them, but she seemed to have formed no real attachments as of yet, and so for the moment I was content to allow matters to remain as they were.

“Not a hopeless old maid,” I told her. “But I am not ashamed to admit that I would like my wife to be a few years younger than I. Besides, by limiting eligible young women to a four-year span, it makes the pool of candidates a bit more manageable. As it is, how many do you think might be suitable?”

A tilt of her head to one side as my sister considered my question. “I cannot say for certain, but I believe it might be as many as several hundred. What on earth are you going to do with them all?”

Good question. Once the word had gone out to all those young women of gentle birth, how was I to meet them all, to form any kind of opinion of their character…to determine which of them might be a match for me, not merely by accident of birth, but by temper and humor and intelligence?

“We are always hosting entertainments,” I said, speaking slowly as the plan formed in my mind. “Foolish parties and suppers and musicales and tournaments and hunts. Why not use one of those occasions to bring everyone together?”

“I suppose so.” My sister stood and moved away from me to look out the window, as if by seeing all of Iselfex spread out below her she could somehow better grasp what it was I proposed. “Not too lavish, though, Torric. Remember, some of these families, though noble, are not wealthy. Trying to outfit a daughter so she can catch the emperor’s eye might be enough to bankrupt them.”

Her words took me aback, for until she mentioned it, I hadn’t even considered such a thing. Those courtiers who maintained townhouses in the capital certainly seemed to have enough of the ready to throw about at a moment’s notice, but I supposed a country baronet might take a very different view of the expenses involved.

“Very well,” I said. “What do you propose?”

She turned away from the window, the late afternoon sunlight painting a golden outline around her sleek dark hair. “It will take more than a day or two for you to make your decision, I assume?”

“Well, yes, especially if there are very many young women for me to acquaint myself with.”

“All right. Then why not five days? A full week might be too much, but I should think five days would be manageable.”

That seemed sensible enough. “Very well. Five days it is.”

“And only one event each day. That is, perhaps start things with a tournament, and then have a dinner, and then a hunt, then a musicale, and finally end the five days with a grand ball.”

The progression also made sense to me. But… “Why only one event each day?”

A grin and a shake of her head, as if she were amused by my male ignorance. “Because at an affair such as this, no young woman will wish to be seen in the same gown twice. If there is more than one event each day, then that will double the number of new gowns required, and that would be quite a burden for each family.”

Reasoning like this was precisely why I had come to my sister for counsel. “Of course. As always, you are eminently sensible. I wouldn’t wish to create a hardship for anyone if it can be avoided.”

“Oh, it might still, if the family is poor enough, but that will be their decision to make. There will be no repercussions if a girl chooses not to participate, for whatever reason?”

“Of course not,” I said at once. “The whole point is to find someone willing, someone I enjoy spending time with, and who, I hope, will enjoy spending time with me.”

“Some may be more willing than others, depending on how insistent their families are, but I suppose you cannot control every aspect of the situation.” A wry little smile, and she added, “Although I am sure you will do what you can to manage things.”

I lifted my shoulders. Truly, now that I had come up with the plan, it would be on my advisors and my staff to arrange the thing. “When would be best? I was thinking the first week of Octevre.”

“I think that is a good plan. It should have cooled down by then, so the days will be pleasant, and it will also give everyone almost a month to prepare.”

“Excellent.” I went to her then and gave her a quick hug, catching a brief waft of rose perfume before I released her. “Now to go and tell Keldryn what I have planned. I can’t wait to see his expression.”

“
Y
ou mean to do
what
, Your Majesty?”

As I had hoped, my chancellor looked close to an explosion, one he was somehow managing to hold in, even though his eyes bulged and an apoplectic flush tinged his sagging cheeks. In tones of supreme unconcern, I replied, “I am going to choose my wife from among the good people of Sirlende. Surely you cannot find fault with that? Or do you think a Sirlendian girl is not fit to sit upon her own country’s throne?”

“I — no, that is — of course not, Your Majesty. I did not mean to imply — but — ”

“Very well, then. From here on it is merely a matter of logistics. We have five weeks until the first of Octevre. Surely that is enough time to plan such simple amusements, especially as we hold similar ones almost every night here in the palace? Well, perhaps not a tournament, but the last one was only a week ago, so I don’t imagine my seneschal can have completely forgotten how to organize one in so short a period.”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty, but — ”

Somehow I managed to keep myself from smiling, but it was quite difficult, as one corner of my mouth seemed to want to twitch at his discomfiture no matter what I did. “In fact, have him sent to me as soon as we’re done here, as I want to make sure he understands exactly what I intend. In the meantime, though, you can start the preparations to have the proclamations drawn up. I want criers sent to all the districts of Iselfex — ”

“
All
, Your Majesty?” Lord Keldryn inquired, a wealth of meaning in that one simple word.

True enough. There were several districts in my capital that couldn’t possibly possess any suitable candidates. “Very well, Keldryn, all the districts where noble houses are located. Then send messengers to any towns with a population of more than five hundred, and, well, you can manage the rest,” I added blithely, as I did not quite have a grasp of how this was all to be accomplished. “But I do want to make sure that word is sent to all the corners of the empire.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” my chancellor said, the words not quite a sigh, although close enough to one that I raised an eyebrow. His eyes widened, as he hastened to say, “It will be done with all haste, Your Majesty. I will make up a draft of the announcement and have it ready for your approval within the hour.”

“Excellent.” By then I was willing to be magnanimous, as it was clear Lord Keldryn would offer no further arguments. Perhaps he had told himself he should be happy, for at least he now knew that I planned to do something about getting a wife…even if my means of doing so were unorthodox, to say the least.

As to that, well, perhaps it was time to overturn some of those old traditions.

A
shara Millende

T
oday is going
to be a good day
.

It was a charm I had begun to repeat each morning, a few simple words to convince myself that things surely weren’t as bad as they had seemed the night before, when I had curled up on my mean little pallet in front of the remains of the kitchen fire and attempted to sleep. True, some days were better than others, and many far worse, but just as the sun rose each morning, my hopes would rise with it, the thought that perhaps this day something would be different, that something would change.

As for this particular morning on a bright day in early Sevendre, it did offer some promise, with no river mist to mute the sun’s rays, and make the air thick with moisture. It was a time of year when many of the great families who dwelt in Iselfex would retreat to their country manors and castles, escaping the damp heat. We, however, did no such thing. Indeed, my stepmother had fled the country for the city some ten years earlier, and showed no signs of ever wanting to return.

To be sure, part of my anticipation of its being a good day was that she and my two stepsisters would be gone for all of it, as they had departed the afternoon before to spend a few days at the house of a friend. Not exactly a country ramble, but Mistress Theldrin’s home was outside the borders of the capital, in a pleasant location at the edge of the River Silth…upstream from the capital, and so untouched by the waste any great city generates. While I might have entertained wistful thoughts of spending some time away from Iselfex, away from the noise and the smoke and the ever-present crowds, of rolling down my stockings and taking off my shoes and walking barefoot through the cool water, I knew I would never be allowed such liberty.

No, it was enough to look forward to the prospect of several days passing with no demands that I iron a chemise, or heat water for a bath, or fetch a hair ribbon, or blister a finger preparing the curling rods for my stepsisters’ hair, or — well, I will not bother to list all the tasks they could dream up to keep me running from morning to night. Yes, I would still have to dust, and mop, and empty the refuse bins, and peel the potatoes for the cook’s unending soups and stews, but at least I would not have to do all those things and attempt to fulfill my stepfamily’s unceasing demands.

At first glance anyone who saw me must think me the lowest of the small staff who kept the household going, but in truth, I had not been born to this life. This grand house, with its shining wooden floors and windows of stained glass and four marble fireplaces — all of which had to be cleaned regularly — should have been mine.

My stepmother, who loathed country life as much as my father had loved it, removed us all to Iselfex, to the townhouse my father had inherited along with his title and the lovely estate some three days’ ride north of the capital. The estate, I gathered, my stepmother leased to a prosperous wine merchant who had dreams of living the life of a landed gentleman, and it was the money from those rents, along with what she had inherited from my father, that enabled her to set herself up in some style in town.

As for myself…

I sometimes wondered, in the depths of the blackest nights, when sleep would not come and my thoughts went down dark pathways, whether my stepmother would have had me killed outright, if she thought she could get away with it. But although I was reduced to being the meanest of servants in my own home, she could count herself as being virtuous in that at least I still had a roof over my head, and was fed regularly. She constantly complained about being in debt, and how we all just barely struggled to get along, as if that were excuse enough for me to “earn my keep,” as she liked to put it. Never mind that my stepsisters had new gowns at least once a month, and that my stepmother hosted grand dinner parties every fortnight. No, she couldn’t possibly afford to give me the same treatment she lavished on her own daughters.

Ah, well. My pallet was a poor one, but the kitchen was generally warmer than the drafty bedrooms upstairs, and the cook, a good-hearted woman who spied the lay of the land, even if she did not have the courage to protest my treatment, tried to sneak me what morsels she could in addition to my own meager meals. With all that, she still sighed over how thin I was. I did not bother to point out that some extra scraps of cheese and a stolen bit of bread here and there were not enough to offset all the running about I had to do to keep my stepmother, if not precisely happy, at least quiescent.

It was time to draw water from the well. Our house was situated on a small cul-de-sac that it shared with four other homes, and in the center of the street where it dead-ended was the well where we got all our water. That was one thing about Iselfex — fresh water was easy enough to come by. Indeed, the very name of the city meant “place of the wells” in the language of those who had founded it.

I fetched the two heavy wooden buckets from their place by the back door and went out. At once the smells of the town met my nose — smoke, and spent grease, and beneath it the damp, warm scent of the river, which lay only a hundred yards or so from the house. The sun was already hot, despite it being barely the fourth hour of the morning. I could feel the perspiration start under the kerchief that bound my hair and begin to trickle down my neck.

Nothing for it, though. I grasped the buckets more tightly and made my way to the well, keeping my gaze studiously downcast. I had been scolded more times than I cared to recall over being what my stepmother called too “bold” — which apparently meant looking about me as I walked. Perhaps she wished me to be invisible altogether, and believed that if I did not gaze at other people, then they would not look at me.

Even so, only a few months earlier one of the footmen from the Marenhalls’ household had offered to carry the buckets for me, declaring I was far too frail for such a chore. I had tried to demur, for in fact I was stronger than I looked, but he had insisted, taking my burden from me and walking with me to the back door. Oh, what a row that caused! For my stepsister Jenaris saw the whole thing, and went tattling to her mother, and I was most vigorously chastised for encouraging male attention. Of course I had not, but I knew there was no point in trying to explain that to my stepmother.

She must have said something to Mistress Marenhall, for the tall young footman never approached me again. Perhaps in my heart I experienced a small pang, as kind words were few and far between for me, and that was the first time a young man had even dared to approach me, but any protests would have resulted in punishment far worse than a harsh scolding and a hungry night with no supper.

I went to the well, and attached my first bucket to the rope there and lowered it. A splash as the pail met water, and then I began to haul the heavy bucket upward, my hands hardened by now to the rough hemp rope, the dead weight of it as I slowly drew it back toward me — slowly, for if I spilled too much, I would only have to go back and fill it once again.

With care I set it down at my feet, and began to attach the second bucket. I had just dropped it over the side of the well when a rider on a fine blood bay came clattering down the street, unrolled a piece of heavy paper, and called out in a strong, commanding voice,

“Hear ye, good people of Iselfex! His Imperial Majesty, Torric Deveras, has let it be known that he wishes to seek a bride from among his own people. All young women of gentle birth between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two are hereby invited to attend a series of celebrations, beginning with a tournament on the first of Octevre, and culminating in a grand ball on the fifth of that month, so that his Majesty may make the acquaintance of these young women and make one of them his wife. So he has said, and so will it be done.”

And with that the rider dismounted. Only then did I realize he wore the silver and black of the Imperial house, his doublet of black velvet slashed with silver tissue, a brooch in the shape of the Imperial device, an eagle with wings outstretched, holding his cloak closed at his throat. All in all, it must have been an uncomfortably hot ensemble for such a warm day, and I found myself pitying the young man somewhat.

He went to the wood and stone wall that enclosed our property, and proceeded to nail the proclamation to one of the wooden posts there. I reflected that perhaps it was a good thing my stepmother was away and couldn’t see such defacement of her property, but then I realized she most likely would not consider such a thing to be an act of vandalism, but rather welcome attention from the Crown.

Even from where I stood I could see the flush on the rider’s brow. It had to be thirsty work, going from street to street and making his proclamation. I lifted my buckets and went toward him, barely staggering under my burden, as I had grown accustomed enough to it by that time.

“Some water, good sir?” I asked, and indicated the buckets I held. “I have no dipper, I fear, but — ”

A most unofficial grin spread across his lips, and he took the bucket from my left hand, drinking deeply. Indeed, he drank so much I feared I would have to go refill the bucket, but at length he set it down by my feet.

“Many thanks, miss,” he said, his smile even wider now, if that were possible. “I can only hope that the young woman His Majesty chooses is half as thoughtful as you.”

Not knowing what else to do, I bobbed a curtsey. “You are too kind, my lord.”

His gaze sharpened slightly. I knew my accent was not that of a servant girl, and I had been trained in manners and courtesies while my father was still alive. I held my breath, hoping he would make no further comment, and hoping I hadn’t attracted attention that might get me in trouble.

But the moment passed, and he shrugged. It was clear to me that he had many more stops to make, and the puzzle of a servant who sounded like a nobleman’s daughter was something he would have to leave aside for another day.

A nod, and “thank you again, miss,” and he turned away from me, going back to his horse and swinging up into the saddle with a smooth, practiced movement. Then he was gone, and I was left to stare at the paper nailed to the fencepost.

So the Emperor was seeking a bride. On the face of it, I met the requirements — I was nineteen, and of gentle birth, my father having been a baronet. But I knew there was no chance of participating in the planned festivities. Even if I had somehow managed to scrounge one halfway presentable gown, my stepmother would never allow me to leave the house and abandon my duties for a single day, let alone five in a row.

Indeed, she made sure that I did not venture beyond the little cul-de-sac where the house was located. Any errands were entrusted to Mari, the other maidservant, or Janks, the young man who performed everything from footman duties to minor repairs, as needed. My stepmother did not keep a carriage, hiring a coach as required, and had many of the household’s necessities delivered.

Perhaps in a perfect world Mari might have been a companion to me, someone I could commiserate with over my stepmother’s harsh treatment of us all. But Mari had adopted the general tone of the household toward me, thinking herself my superior because she had the lighter duties of managing the wardrobes of my stepsisters and stepmother, and doing their hair, and dusting the bric-a-brac with which my stepmother had cluttered the interior of what once had been quite an elegant house.

If I had not once caught Mari and Janks indulging in behavior that most likely would have gotten her dismissed — and which gave me an education in relations between men and women that I would not soon forget — she very likely would have treated me even worse than she did. Although I had sworn not to say anything, knowing how hard it would be for her to get a new situation with no reference, still I thought she did not completely believe me, and that I held the information in reserve against a day when I might have need of it.

So I sighed, and gathered up my buckets, and returned to the house. Mari had gone with my stepsisters and stepmother, leaving Janks and me to manage the place on our own. I actually rather liked him, even if I didn’t care much for his taste in young women. But he always treated me with a rough kindness that was a welcome respite from Mari’s cattiness and my stepsisters’ scorn.

He grinned at me now, and came to take the buckets from me, hoisting them easily and depositing them on the kitchen’s stone floor. “Heard the news, ay?” he asked, clearly ready for some gossip, with the lady of the house gone and not much to occupy his time…well, except keeping an eye on me. I had no doubt my stepmother had left strict instructions for him to make sure I ventured no farther than the well.

“I did,” I replied, and lifted one bucket to pour some water into the basin I used to scrub the vegetables. Claris, our cook, would be returning from her marketing soon, and I knew better than to not have things ready by her return, even if the meal she prepared would be modest enough, as it was only the three of us who would be eating it.

“Think they’ll try for it?”

I shrugged. “Most likely.” I did not want to say more than that. Just because I liked Janks didn’t mean I would trust him to keep my opinions between the two of us. I could have added that the preparations would send the house into an uproar, and that my stepsisters only had the barest claim to fit the parameters of the Emperor’s summons, as their own father had been merely a knight. However, I had no doubt that my stepmother would use my father’s title to get them in, even if such machinations stretched the borders of what was actually allowed.

Nor would I say that neither of my stepsisters was nearly pretty enough to catch the eye of the Emperor. He could have his pick from hundreds of eligible young women, after all. Although Shelynne, my junior by a year, was an attractive girl — taking after her mother, luckily, who was still handsome — she did have a tendency to wear an unfortunate expression half the time, owing to her extreme near-sightedness. And Jenaris, the elder, was really not pretty at all, although her mother tried to hide her shortcomings with elegant gowns and perfectly curled hair and the slightest touch of stain on her lips. Even so, Jenaris still looked to me like a pig wearing silk and curls…and her disposition did little to dispel that impression.