Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (33 page)

“I don’t think it’s just the princess, your Imperial Highness,” Conall explained quickly. “King Corros seems to have a passionate hatred for all of you, if his expression was anything to go on. Why don’t you all catch up while I go listen?” He grinned. “Shall I bring Allegra back over with me?”

“You’d better,” Jenevra noted dryly, watching the auburn-haired Princess chewing through her fingernails.

 CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

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Absolutely no sense of propriety…no decorum. Just like her mother.” Corros was fuming as Conall reached the group, standing quietly behind them.

“What are you talking about, Corros?” Queen Daneshka gave him an exasperated glance. “Jenevra Couressime is nothing like her mother, other than in her looks. Saphila was far more easy going, lively … altogether more fun!”

“But Jenevra’s really funny, Mother,” Allegra defended her new friend. “And she’s clever too.”

“Women have no place being clever.” Alexsander didn’t endear himself to his wife or daughter with that comment.

“The whole Couressime family is infected with the same lack of regard for everyone else,” Corros was still ranting. “This Empire is tainted by their arrogance!”

Even King Aleksander was perturbed by Corros’s lack of discretion. “For the gods’ sakes, Corros, are you quite mad? Half of the Imperial family is sitting in this room and you pick now to criticize them? Do you want to cause a war in the Empire?”

“Why not?” Cieren butted in. “What do the Marissuns and Couressimes have that we don’t? I have as much ability to be Emperor as that idiot, Phillip does!”

Aleksander turned on the Prince. “Prince Cieren,” he said, with barely contained anger. “You are a guest at my son’s wedding, and too young to speak with any real knowledge of what you suggest, so I will overlook your treasonous comments this time; but rest assured, the loyalties of the Dhorani family lie with the Emperor, and will always do so … willful Princesses notwithstanding. I will not permit such disrespect for the Imperial family within my Kingdom. Do I make myself clear?”

Cieren bowed his head, eyes glinting angrily. Muttering an apology with ill-grace he asked leave to retire for the night.

Queen Daneshka hadn’t finished though. Turning to Corros she reminded him that she had been friends with Arrilia Neilla and Arrilia Saphila for years, before any of them had been married. “What did either of them ever do to you, Corros?”

With a venomous glance at the two blonde-haired men apparently deep in conversation with their sister, Corros spat, “She married that huge buffoon, Couressime, didn’t she?” Pulling himself together with a visible effort, Corros managed to paste a passable smile onto his face. “Still, you’re right, Daneshka, my dear. That’s all in the past now.” Rising to his feet he decided to go find his son, apologizing once more for the Crown Prince. “He’s still a little prone to angry outbursts—ever since his dear mother left this world. I suppose he will get over it in time.”

“Well, well,” Queen Daneshka sat down again, tapping her finger against her cheek thoughtfully. “So Corros fancied himself in love with Saphila?”

“And apparently still holds a grudge that she chose Stephan Couressime over him,” Prime Minister Menegri noted. “Your Majesty could not lose by keeping on the right side of the princess, I assure you, and maybe even an alliance with the Imperial family could keep them reassured of your enduring friendship. I think it may not be too long before the King of Diruthia overreaches himself, and I don’t see the new Emperor hesitating to squash him like a bug.”

“Princess Allegra,” Conall spoke up. “Prince Stephan was wondering if you would care to join us?” He held his arm out to her as Aleksander’s face creased into a craftily benevolent smile.

“Yes, my dear child, go join the young people.” He waved them off to join Jenevra, Stephan and Richard. “So you think the elder brother may be a possibility, Menegri?”

Menegri leaned forward to whisper quietly into the King’s ear. “I think Princess Allegra is already making a strong impression on Prince Stephan, Majesty. And, if you will permit the candor, I think it a shame that you set yourself so strongly against the princess. She and Prince Mikhail were already at least partly smitten with each other if I’m not mistaken. But you will need this Imperial alliance to offset the marriage to Diruthia. Thank Tore it was the daughter of their house you went for. If you’d sent Princess Allegra to marry that oaf Cieren, things would be much more difficult to smooth over with Corros and the Emperor.”

Catching only part of the conversation between her husband and his most trusted advisor, Queen Daneshka looked over at her son, still sitting quietly with his bride to be. Finally able to put a name to the lost look she had noticed on his face, she closed her own eyes wearily, sadness coursing through her. As she opened her eyes, she happened to catch Kian Menzetti looking at her. “You know?” she said softly.

Kian nodded. “I think most of us know now. Although I don’t think their feelings are exactly what either of them thinks they are. Mikhail seems to be having slightly more trouble understanding his duty to your House than Jenevra does, which isn’t helping.” He motioned to her to walk a little with him, and they met at the wine table, nursing a goblet each.

“And the Emperor still sent her here? Is he hoping Aleksander will change his mind and let them marry?”

Kian shook his head. “No, he was just trying to get her as far away from Diruthia as possible. I don’t think he really thought about how hard it would be for them, he was too wrapped up in his own wedded bliss to notice.”

“How typically male,” Daneshka sighed. “I’m surprised Neilla let him send her, though. She would know what it means.”

Kian looked at her puzzled. “How so, Your Majesty? Surely she’s just another guest?”

“Not just any guest, my Lord. Jenevra is the sole female representative of the Imperial family, yes?”

Kian nodded, none the wiser.

“So, the highest ranked lady and gentleman will be expected to witness the married couple being put to bed together. The princess will have to accompany Artela to her bedchamber. You can guarantee Corros will insist on the full protocol being followed at his daughter’s wedding.”

Kian was startled. “Surely they don’t expect an unmarried girl to be a witness?”

“Normally, no; but she is the only female member of the Imperial family in attendance.” Daneshka took a long drink. “Do you think she knows?”

“I’d guarantee not, your Majesty. After all, she left her own sister’s wedding before they reached that point, and before that she would only have been thirteen; unlikely to have been included in any such thing.” Kian voice was filled with deep feeling for his young charge. “Is there nothing we can do to avoid this?” Straightening his shoulders as the Queen shook her head sadly, Kian drained his goblet of wine. “Your Majesty, could you possibly occupy Princess Artela so that I can talk to Jenna and Misha together? I cannot let them face this without any warning. If they have time to prepare themselves, I know they’ll deal with it appropriately. Can you let them know to meet me in my room?”

Queen Daneshka nodded. “Of course; that’s a wonderful idea. Thank you, Lord Menzetti.” She swept into the middle of the room, clapping her hands together. “I think it’s time the ladies retired for the night,” she announced. “The bride needs to be rested for tomorrow, and the rest of us could probably use the beauty sleep!” Ushering the girls out of the room, Queen Daneshka hurried them along the hallway. “Princess Jenevra,” she hesitated, taking the princess’s hands into her own. “I think Lord Menzetti wanted to speak to you before you retire. He’ll be in his room shortly. Why don’t you wait for him there?” The Queen pulled Jenevra to her in a brief tight hug and moved rapidly away with Allegra and Artela: Allegra looking back over her shoulder in amazement.

Jenevra shrugged her shoulders at the princess, and then let herself in to Ki-Nimh’s room. Moments later the door opened and she turned, expecting to see Ki’s tall, lean form. It was Misha. Her stomach tightened. “I’m waiting for Ki-Nimh,” she explained unnecessarily.

“He asked me to meet him here too.” Misha remained by the door, not trusting himself any closer. All evening he had held on to Artela’s hand and thought of Jenevra.

They stood in silent awkwardness for several long minutes that felt like an eternity. Misha poured wine, and Jenevra moved across to the windows, gazing out again at the rippled silk of the lake, reflecting the two moons like a pair of half closed eyes. Misha’s heart pounded as he saw her profile etched by the silvered light. “Do you want a drink?” he asked.

“Please.” She didn’t turn back to him, just continued watching the water.

Carrying a crystal goblet to her, he felt an electric jolt as their fingers brushed. Retreating swiftly, Misha leaned against a solid desk, swallowing his drink straight down. “I wonder what he wants?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I just hope he hurries up.” She rubbed fingers against the tightness reasserting itself in her head—the talisman’s sharp warning of caution flaring again. Hastily, she strode across to the fireplace; placing her glass on the mantelpiece so that she wouldn’t drop it. Resting her head on her hands, leaning against the edge of the mantle, she sighed. “I have to go,” she said. “Tell Ki-Nimh I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Misha caught her arm as she made for the door. “Jenna!”

“Misha, please let go.” She wouldn’t look at him, just pulled against his grip.

Kian entered the room, a grim expression on his face. “Both of you sit down. We have to talk. Correction,” he said, filling three more glasses. “I have to talk, you two have to listen.” He drained his glass then carried the other two over to Jenna and Misha. Gesturing to the chairs by the fire, “Sit down,” he ordered.

Misha sat, absently accepting the wine Kian thrust at him.

“Nimh’a!”

“I’ll stand.” She stood defiantly by the mantle, retrieving the crystal goblet Misha had poured for her; holding the chilly glass to her aching head.

Mentally cursing her obstinacy, Kian drew a deep breath and began to explain to both of them the consequences of Jenevra’s rank at the wedding, and what it would mean at the end of the evening.

Misha groaned, sinking his head into his hands.

The princess had sunk, aghast, onto the chair. “No. Ki-Nimh, I can’t. You can’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not asking, Nimh’a,” Ki’s eyes were sympathetic, but his tone gave no quarter.

Jenevra raised her head. “Then I’ll leave tonight. I’ll find a reason and take the Flight north tonight.”

Kian looked down at her. “You can’t run away from this one, Nimh’a,” he said. “You have to stay, and you have to finish this.”

“Why, Ki-Nimh?” The question was tinged with all levels of meaning.

“My dear child,” Kian responded, gently. “You cannot allow Corros to have any grievance with the Empire; you cannot give him a reason to attack Phillip yet. Your position within the Empire is as vital as that within the Order. I wish I could protect you from all of it, but I can’t.”

Touched by this unusual display of affection from her mentor, Jenevra drew a deep shaking breath and nodded. “I really have to do this?” she asked softly.

Kian nodded, seeing the grieving acceptance in the depths of her eyes; knowing that duty would still come first for her … at least for now.

Misha’s hands reached out to hers and they rose to stand together, gazing into each other’s faces. A whispered, “Be happy, Misha,” and Jenevra turned away; Misha’s hands falling impotently to his sides as she left him forever.

Making her way out of the palace, Jenevra headed blindly down to the lake’s edge. Wandering the banks, she found a small jetty, walked to the end of it and sat down, alone again. Knowing she would never be with Misha hurt, but not quite as much as the understanding that was growing in her that she would never have anybody. Phillip might talk of marriage with other Princes, but she knew, from the voices she had heard in the mists at Mirizir, there would be no marriage for her. No personal commitment could be allowed to come between her duty to Order and Emperor. The realization that she would never be allowed to love suddenly cut the princess as it never had before. Leaning her head against one of the posts, she sat still, silent and lonely until the dawn’s pale fingers began to pull the night back revealing a day as perfect as any bride had ever wished for.

Out of sight, Farid Jatar kept the Flight’s careful watch over their captain.