Champion of the Rose - Kobo Ebook (33 page)

He took a while to answer, and thinking about it made him
look oppressed. "Yes," he
said, eventually. "Like every other
Rathen in the past thousand ages, I have always entertained the heartfelt
belief that I know the best way to everything. Being King indulges that fantasy – for all it teaches me my limits. I'm familiar with the issues, but I wasn't
overmuch trained for rule, never expected to have the weight of that responsibility. And I suffer from not knowing everything
that's changed, two hundred years from the Darest I understood. Most of the decisions have been Aristide's,
though he makes a nice game of leading me to feed him back what he wants to
do." Strake's mouth
compressed. "Where is he?"

"His breakfast room."

"And the Fae?"

"Casting. Communication, I think. He's
holding someone's sigil."

"Is he?" Hostility radiated through the lean body half wrapped around Soren. Then it broke, or was put away, and he sighed
and pulled her closer. "They can
wait an hour. Tell me about something
else, something which has nothing to do with any of this. Your family, your home. I saw Carn Keep just after it was built. Talk to me about – oh, Sun, anything but that
creature on the beach."

-
oOo
-

Half the morning had been lost by the time Soren returned to
her bedroom. She could hear voices from
her receiving room, knew perfectly well it was
Halcean
and Aspen. Aspen had planted himself
there, no doubt hot to tease her about the morning's gossip, and
Halcean
had been unsuccessfully shooing him for rather too
long judging from the tone of her voice.

Soren watched them joust while she washed and dressed and
thought that despite
Halcean's
irritable manner she
was in truth enjoying the game. Then she
had to laugh at herself. Soren didn't
know if what she and Strake had could become love – it was such a damaged thing
– but it had felt so good to be able to touch him, to talk about innocuous
things, to part with a caress. If that
painted everyone else with a rosy glow, then so be it.

It also made it easier to walk into her receiving room and
face the first of the many who would see her now as King's lover.

"I'm devastated, Champion," Aspen said as she
emerged, starting in style. "Simply
shattered. I don't know how you could do
this to me." He smirked at her even
as he complained.

"It was oddly simple," Soren said, "since I
don't recall thinking of you at all this past day."

Aspen made a show of taking a wound to the heart, then
rolled his shoulders to set teasing aside and said: "Well, I'm all over
envy, but I always suspected myself out of the running. Outclassed in the competition? I will, as ever, declare myself entirely
eager should you want something with more variety than a simple pairing."

"You're too kind, Aspen." Soren sat down, adjusting Kittredge's
sword. Still too big and tiresomely
awkward, but after last night she was far more inclined to wear it. "I'll be breakfasting with the King,
Halcean
," she added. "No Court business till this afternoon."

Halcean
made the appropriate
obedient murmurs and left. She'd spent a
part of the morning writing a letter to her mother, relaying the news of
Soren's pregnancy, but had otherwise shown no sign of sharing that most delicious
piece of gossip. And she had not at all
liked it when Soren had returned from yesterday's walk pale and unwilling to
talk. Feeling slighted, with Soren's
secrets standing between them.

"Kindness has nothing to do with it," Aspen was
saying. "I've been marked
positively seer-like for having had the good sense to cultivate you before you
were important. You're a boon to my
reputation, Champion."

Soren shook her head, wondering how to extract him without
risking another friendship. Though Aspen
was hard to bruise. "Dangling about
my apartment, you're not doing a great deal for mine," she replied.

"If only I could convince them of that." He grinned outright, then turned serious,
glancing to the door
Halcean
had closed behind
her. "But it's not your reputation
I wanted to talk about. Do you know
what's been whispered this morning?"

"Other than the obvious?"

Aspen nodded. "I
know rumours, Soren. I've started them
often enough, embroidered them, countered them. They have a life of their own, a way of behaving that you grow to
recognise. That
fribble
Fisk set yours off this morning, and it's gone the usual rounds. Champion in King's bed. Wedding in Spring, baby in Summer, all the
rest. They'll have you naming your
grandchildren before you can blink."

"This is all very interesting, Aspen–"

But he held up his hand with enough authority to silence
her. "Last night, after that very
creditable explosion, I heard a whisper which was new. The meaning of the black rose has been going
around these past few days, and naturally people are tying that to Princess
Sethane's
death near Teraman, and whatever it is stalking
Dariens
. Predictable
and unavoidable talk because it's very probably true. I'm not so sure about last night – of a
sudden there was a new twist, talk of an offence against The Deeping, or the
Moon herself. That these past two
hundred years Darest has failed because our delectable
Aluster
had not paid debt with life. And that
our troubles won't be over until he has."

Soren couldn't answer that. "You said a rumour this morning."

"Quite so. Evidently, trysting with you has led our King to a falling out with the
Diamond. A noted chill, when half the
Court was of the firm opinion that this Spring festival they're planning will
see the Diamond given a truly royal reward."

"Oh yes?" Soren merely raised her brows and looked to where Aristide sat beside a
sunny window, drawing intricate patterns in one of his books. He did not do this often, but displayed
considerable talent, and was quite absorbed. No sign of brooding pique.

"Oh yes." Aspen shook his head at her. "There's all sorts of talk of due justice, an insult to the
Diamond. But it's not the content of the
rumour, my lovely, though that has its interesting factors. It's the distribution. After last night, I made sure to pay
particular attention, and sure enough, soon after Fisk had let the cat out of
the bag this little item turned up. From
nowhere to everywhere. It's not
unnatural for people to speculate about the Diamond's love life and
ambitions. Sun knows, I've contributed
to that body of work. But everyone
doesn't come up with the same idea within moments. It was fed to them, Soren, just as I'd wager
that piece about blood price was. There's a few busy little mouths out there."

"Lord Aristide does have enemies."

"Many. And,
well, the throne was as good as his. The
question of whether he'd try and take it back is something even I mulled
over. But though I may be the laziest
creature that
e'er
was birthed, I do have precocious
talent. I know the implications of that
pretty knot of lines our Diamond has in the palm of his hand and I can feel the
power of it even before he walks into a room. But that won't do him much good if King
Aluster
is killed, because a
saecstra's
bound to the one who takes the oath, and the Diamond wouldn't be able to prove
it was genuine, after the fact."

"It's not something we haven't anticipated, Aspen. We're keeping an eye on that quarter."

He snorted. "You
refer, no doubt, to the twisted schemes of Lady Arista? Please. If our less-than-beloved Lady Regent had the least intention of seeing
her son as gallows-bait, it would have happened long ago. That's not her point at all."

"What is then?" Soren asked impatiently.

"To make him
fail
,
of course. To put his utmost into
something, just as she did, and watch it slowly sour." He gave her a pitying expression which was a
too-emphatic reproduction of Aristide's sweetest smile. "Sun and Sky, Soren! The last thing Lady Arista would do is kill
our delectable King, even if that left the Diamond locked away for the
crime. The situation's too perfect the
way it is. Aristide never able to take
the throne and permanently in service to a Rathen King? I don't say that she was entirely ready to
step down, but she is getting old and these past few years she's been looking
about almost obviously for ways to keep the Diamond from power. If I might be so crude, I'd bet our White
Lady creamed herself when she heard about that rose."

Gloating pleasure had indeed been the impression Soren had
taken during her interview with the Regent. "I have a feeling I should start paying you, Aspen."

"A detailed description would go some way to settling
accounts."

Soren shook her head, exasperated. "But why not just disinherit
Aristide? Appoint someone else her
heir? It can be done. It's not as if the Regency was dictated by
the Rose."

"My darling innocent. You don't understand the game at all, do you? Why not chop off his head and spike it on a
pole by the palace gate? The point isn't
to be expedient."

"Do you think Aristide knows this?"

He looked at her. "I'm not even going to dignify that."

It was, in fact, almost exactly what Soren recalled Aristide
telling them, with merely the emphasis shifted. He'd never claimed that his mother would try to kill Strake, had simply
stated that if it came to that, blame would fall to him. He'd said her goal would be to ruin their
plans.

Because it had been
Jansette
who
had warned them about the knife, Soren had been assuming Lady Arista was
plotting assassination. There were
others she watched, true, but she'd kept Lady Arista at the back of her mind,
pictured her pulling strings from behind the scenes. Maybe she was, but Aspen made good
sense. Someone else was orchestrating an
end for her Rathen.

"Who? Who's
behind it?"

"Now if I knew that, I would have at least dropped a
hint already. I'm calling in my
favours."

"Thank you."

"Ah." He
waved a hand negligently. "Fors
tells me that now he's no longer Court Mage he can't 'prentice me. Told me to refer myself to the Councillor of
Mages. Which is a simply delightful
thought, but I didn't get very far before. Unless I improve myself in the Diamond's estimation I'll have to face
some less than inspiring choices." He grimaced. "Though I can
just imagine the amount of work I'd be buying into. The Diamond's such a perfectionist. Oh, and one last thing..."

"Yes?" Soren turned her attention away from Strake, who was already at his
breakfast table and looking more worried than impatient. Imagining her dead in the next room?

"The Diamond's heard these rumours too. This morning's and last night's. Usually he'd have them countered, or at least
probed. Keeping track of this sort of
thing is part and parcel. But my source
says he hasn't. Listened, yes. Caught at least some of the implications,
almost certainly. Done nothing. Lingers over breakfast. Puts off a practice session with the Captain
of the Guard."

Goes into a sunny room and draws patterns in a book. His face was perfectly composed, the
expression very like that he wore when staring at the ceiling each
morning. And as ever, Soren had no idea
what was going on behind it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The book was neatly face down, pen and inkwell beside
it. Aristide had not risen, but gestured
toward the seat opposite him before speaking. "What can I do for you, Champion?"

"The King is planning to speak to the Tzel Aviar
shortly, and would appreciate you joining him," Soren said, formally
passing on a message. She decided then
that with Aristide it was best to be direct. "And I wanted to ask you about trump knives. You said you could not steal one. Do you know who could?"

He studied her, as ever seeming faintly amused by her
questions. "It would have been more
correct of me to say I don't know a way to accomplish it," he said. "Or did not. I have considered the matter, and suspect
that if a person knew me very well, or I had some strong link to them, there
might be a way. Not easy, especially in
not alerting me, but as with any kind of magic little is impossible if only you
know the method. I am not entirely
certain I could bring it off, which should give you some guide to the calibre
of the thief. Or their luck."

"Who in Darest could?"

"There are some possibilities in the latest batch of
spies, few of whom are without some casting ability." Aristide's lips curled, derisive. "Darest has not previously warranted
such talent. The ambassadors, too –
Celaury
is well-known, and
Kindraffen
. Among
Dariens
, I
would not rate more than a handful so high.
Frid
Calder is the strongest I've seen outside
The Deeping, but directs all her focus into Shaping and has barely met me
besides.
Choraide
,
Baron
Mirallon
,
Lessitar
–
all have the base ability, but I would doubt the learning and the skill.
Saman
Kitreggar
I imagine would be possible, if only barely. But the only method I can see requires not
just skill and strength, but a tangible connection to or exacting knowledge of
the subject. There is of course my
mother."

Mockery gleamed as he refrained from pointing out blood tie
and long enmity. Soren just nodded. "Do you have any idea how long the
knife's been gone?"

"I reset the casting some two months ago, and would
need to do so again in another month."

"And could stealing it be accomplished from a
distance?"

"Now that I doubt. You are, I collect, wondering whether they may have been visible to
you?" He paused, then reached for
his book and turned to an early page before handing it to her. "This is the knife. Convenient, I must admit, if you should
happen to see it lying about."