The Godspeaker Trilogy (124 page)

The duke looked at him. “Ask it.”

“Is Alasdair duke friend?”

Birds warbled in the woodland. Voices on the breeze, belonging to the manor’s farm-workers going about their business. Not slaves, but servants . A stupid Ethrean difference.

Alasdair duke looked at the distant trees. “I wed Rhian today. Did you know?”

This highsun? So soon. “Wei.”

“But you do know what ‘wed’ means? To become man and wife?”

“ Zho . I know wed.” Laughter and loving and a heart so full .

“That’s why she’s not down here, dancing your hotas . Women’s business. Dresses and so forth.” The duke almost smiled. “If you’ve been married you must know.”

He had no idea what the man meant. It was safest not to say so. “Zho.”

“Once the marriage is done, Rhian becomes Ethrea’s queen,” said the duke, his brief amusement fled. His stare was a challenge. “I become its king. Did you know that ?”

Queen was like Empress. “I know queen.”

Alasdair duke frowned. “She says when she is married she will still dance your hotas . She says Ethrea has need of a warrior queen. She says you are a warrior, the only man who can teach her.”

He nodded. “I teach Rhian hotas . Queen must be strong.”

Alasdair duke stepped close. “I wish to God you’d never come here. You can’t help keep Ethrea together, it’s a matter for Rhian and me and the dukes and the Church to resolve. It’s Ethrea’s business, it’s not the provenance of foreigners. Especially foreigners who don’t even know where they come from!”

He held his ground against the duke. He would not step backwards for this man. “I teach Rhian hotas .”

The duke’s eyes were hot, his bony face savage. “She is more than Rhian, Zandakar. After today she’ll be my wife . And I will have a care for her, I promise. Now. Tell me you understand.”

“Zho,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

“Rhian believes in you,” said Alasdair duke. “You saved her life, stood up to Helfred for her. Whatever you tell her, she believes. You and your sad story, they’ve touched her tender heart. She thinks you’re … romantic . Trust me, Zandakar. I don’t. If you endanger Rhian, if you hurt her, believe this: your hotas won’t save you. Rhian won’t save you. I’ll see you dead if knowing you brings her harm. Tell me you know those words, Zandakar. Show me you understand that .”

I understand I have no place here. I understand I am lost in the god’s eye. I understand I must find my purpose or I will go mad in this green, godless place.

“Zho,” he told the man who would wed with Rhian. “ Zho, Alasdair duke. I understand.”

Rhian looked at herself in the full-length mirror. It felt peculiar to be in a dress again. After so long in boys’ garb the skirts were cloying. A hindrance. The dress was too heavy. An anchor, weighing her down.

It’s also some twenty years out of fashion … but I suppose it’s churlish of me to even consider that.

The gown had belonged to Alasdair’s late mother Arlys, the last Duchess of Linfoi. His father’s second-best choice. This meant there was a certain breeziness beneath the jewel-encrusted brocade, since Duchess Arlys had been more generously endowed. But that didn’t matter either. It was a dress, it fitted her well enough for the purpose, and once she was married she could take it off again.

She watched her pale cheeks flush pink.

I’m not going to think about clothes coming off. I’ve enough to worry about without thinking of that.

In the mirror, Ursa’s wrinkled reflection smiled. “You look lovely, Your Highness,” she said, a most unlikely new Dinsy. “That blue really becomes you.”

“Thank you, Ursa. Ursa—”

“Your Highness?”

She sighed, and turned away from her overdressed image. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“The duke seems a fine man,” said Ursa, after the smallest hesitation. “As far as I can tell on so short an acquaintance.”

“Oh he is. He is.” I know he is. Even if he does seem oddly like a stranger . “He’s a splendid man, Ursa. And he’ll make a fine king.”

Ursa nodded. “He will. There’s not so many men I know who’d willingly stand behind a woman so she could rule as queen in her own right.”

“Dexterity would.”

“Yes, well, Jones, ” said Ursa, and shook her head. “He’s another rare one. Which is probably for the best. Too many men in the world like your duke and that Jones, we’d never know whether to laugh or cry.”

Rhian looked at the softly ticking clock on the bedroom mantel. Twenty minutes to go. Twenty minutes until her life changed forever. Again.

Every time I turn around it seems my life changes. Will it ever be settled? Will I ever just … be?

Ursa unboxed the diamond tiara that had come with the dress. “The servants have polished it as best they could,” she said. “It should’ve gone to a jeweller for cleaning, but of course there’s no time for that. Or a jeweller, as it happens. Your duke’s very rural . I expected he’d live in the duchy’s capital.”

“There’s a ducal residence in town, but the late duke hardly went there,” she said. “He loved the country. Alasdair’s the same.”

She took the tiara from Ursa, blinking away a sting of tears. At home in the castle were her mother’s wedding jewels. She’d always planned on wearing them, as her mother had the day she and Papa stood before God in Kingseat’s grandest Church.

Mama’s jewels. A cloth-of-gold wedding dress made especially for me. Papa at my side, proud enough to burst. Ranald and Simon pulling faces. Poking fun. Pretending they didn’t think I was beautiful. And a grand party afterwards with dancing in the streets. That was how my wedding was supposed to be. Not this cobbled-together, clandestine affair.

Without the slightest warning she was swamped by a dreadful wave of fear.

Oh, God. Am I doing the right thing? What if Alasdair’s changed his mind and doesn’t love me any more? What if he’s only doing this because he thinks he should? Because he said he would? Because he’s tired of being duke of the poorest duchy in Ethrea?

“All brides are nervous,” said Ursa, gently. “Being a princess doesn’t save you from that.”

Speechless, she stared at the old woman. Then she found her voice. “It’s not just the wedding, Ursa. It’s—it’s everything . What am I starting? When Marlan learns what I’ve done—when the other dukes arrive and find out—”

“There’ll be a ruction,” said Ursa. “We might hear the prolate’s bellowing all the way from Kingseat. And the dukes? They’ll likely kick up their heels too. But you knew that, Rhian. When you ran from the clerica and set your course for duchy Linfoi, you knew there’d be serious repercussions. Married or not you must know you wouldn’t be handed the crown, that you’d have to fight for it. Are you trying to tell me you’ve changed your mind?”

“No!” She took a deep breath, seeking her balance. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. How can I? An entire kingdom’s depending on me. It’s just—since my brothers came home sick, nothing’s seemed real. Too much awfulness too quickly. It’s like I’m living someone else’s life and it’s a terrible mistake but I can’t escape it. And now—”

“Your Highness,” said Helfred, entering without announcement or even a knock on the door. “A few words, if you please.”

‘I’ll leave you,’ said Ursa, and closed the bedroom door behind her.

Helfred’s official robe was looking the worse for wear. He was looking the worse for wear, with dark circles imprinted under his eyes, his cheeks pale and hollow, his shoulders tense.

Swallowing a sigh, Rhian put down the tiara. Oh Helfred, Helfred. This would be much easier if I liked you .

“Don’t tell me, Chaplain. Let me guess. You’ve changed your mind and the wedding is off.”

Helfred’s set expression didn’t change. “No, Your Highness.”

She felt her heart stutter. “ Alasdair’s changed his mind?”

“No-one has changed their mind, Princess Rhian,” said Helfred, close to snapping. “Unless—”

“No,” she said, and shook her head. “I’m determined to do this. I don’t have a choice. But there is still time for you to change your mind. I’m completely—”

“Please, Your Highness, I—”

“ No . Let me finish.” She smoothed down her borrowed, ill-fitting dress, waiting until she could trust her voice. “You mustn’t think I don’t know what this is costing you. I doubt there’s another chaplain in Ethrea who’d dare to thwart the prolate’s will.”

“That’s not your concern, Highness.”

“Of course it’s my concern! Without you I remain an unmarried princess. I’m in your power, Chaplain. Let’s not pretend we don’t know that.”

Helfred nodded. “Very well.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m doing this lightly, or taking your sacrifice for granted. I’m not a reckless child, Helfred, chasing a pretty bauble. I know there’ll be consequences, for both of us. But if I hadn’t run from the clerica …”

“My uncle would have won,” said Helfred. “He would have seen you beaten daily until you conformed to his will … or married you off to Lord Rulf by proxy and had you locked away as mentally infirm. Prostrated to madness by the loss of your father and brothers. He would have given the council documents in which you bade them accept Rulf as king. Forged, if he couldn’t coerce you into signing them.”

“He would have, wouldn’t he?” she whispered. “Helfred, he’s your family . You must have known what he is!”

Helfred turned away and stared out of the chamber window. “I knew him as arrogant. I believe even as a small boy he expected instant obedience to his demands. He was raised for the Church. A brilliant scholar. An energetic chaplain. The youngest venerable ever consecrated. A most venerable at thirty. At thirty-eight he headed the Court Ecclesiastica. And at fifty-six he became the kingdom’s prolate. How could he do any of that if God weren’t on his side?” He swallowed. “No. I never questioned. I wondered, when he suggested you marry Rulf. But it wasn’t until the clerica …”

“That you realised he was evil?”

Helfred turned back. “Evil? It’s not my place or yours to judge him so. But I will stand against him, because I believe he’s wrong.”

Damn. And now he’d humbled her. “Helfred—”

He raised his hand. “I know you find me a prosing bore, Your Highness. Pretentious. Condescending. In the way. Perhaps you’re right, perhaps I am all those things. But I am also a dedicated man of God. I have faith in divine guidance. And no matter my reservations about Zandakar—which are grave—I cannot deny there is some power at work here.”

“You said last night you feared it wasn’t benign. Have you changed that opinion?”

“No. But neither am I sure. If it is malign I must fight for God. If God is in this I must fight for him. I will not desert you, Rhian. I will not permit myself to be such a man.”

Rhian . He had never called her by her first name before.

She took a step towards him, thoughts and feelings an uncomfortable jumble. “Helfred—thank you. I’m sorry I’m so impatient. I’m sorry for being rude. I swear on my father’s tomb, I won’t let any harm come to you. I won’t let Marlan punish you for helping me.”

Surprisingly, Helfred managed a small smile. “The sentiment is appreciated, Highness. But I suspect that God alone is capable of protecting me from my uncle. So I shall leave that in his hands if it’s all the same to you. Now … we should take a moment to pray before I wed you to Duke Alasdair.”

Awkwardly, she knelt. Helfred stood over her and let his palm rest on her close-cropped hair.

“God, whose infinite wisdom and kindness we can never deny, look upon this proud child and see into her heart,” he intoned. “God, who sees all and knows all and forgives when we are penitent, hear now your daughter’s heartfelt admission of wrong-doing that she might meet her ordained husband with no stain upon her soul …”

The manor-house chapel was small and spare. The Living Flame burned in an ungilded sconce. The ceiling was white, with no elaborate frescoes proclaiming Rollin and his miracles. Serviceable rugs, threadbare in places, covered the polished timber floor. The windows were stained-glass, but plain in design. The late duke’s bier still occupied a goodly space, which was unfortunate but couldn’t be helped.

“Are you sure Rhian’s all right?” Dexterity whispered to Ursa, sitting beside him on the leading pew. “I can’t imagine she won’t be nervous. I was, the day of my wedding.”

“She’s fine, Jones,” Ursa whispered in reply.

He sighed and took another look around the chapel. Some of the other pews were occupied by manor-house staff. The cook. Some housemaids. The housemaster, Sardre. They sat in stiff silence. It was hard to tell if they approved or not.

If we were in Kingseat we’d be in the High Chapel. The gilded pews would be overflowing with nobles and ambassadors from every great nation in the world. Ursa and I would never have been invited. Like the rest of the populace we’d have heard about it from the heralds.

He turned again to Ursa. “Not the wedding a girl dreams of, is it? Not the wedding you think of for a princess who’s about to become queen. Do you think she minds? She’s such a practical girl, I thought perhaps she might not mind but … it’s her wedding. I remember how excited Hettie was.”

Ursa shrugged. “I don’t know, Jones. I didn’t ask. Whatever she did or didn’t dream of, this is the wedding God’s seen fit to give her. And it’s more of a wedding than some people get.”

That made him stare. “Ursa … did you ever—”

“No,” she said shortly. “Besides, we’re not talking about me.”

He knew so little about the life of young Ursa. She told him what she wanted him to know and bit his head off if he touched on memories she’d decided were none of his affair. He’d long since made his peace with that.

He turned to Zandakar, seated on his other side. “How were you married, Zandakar? Do you remember?”

A wary look came into Zandakar’s eyes. “Wei.”

“Oh. That’s a shame,” he said … and tried to ignore a stab of doubt.

Stop being so suspicious, Jones. Most likely he just doesn’t want to talk of it. The screaming dreams have stopped but that doesn’t mean he’s not still grieving. When he thinks no-one’s looking I see such sadness in his face …

Footsteps sounded outside the chapel. Dexterity looked behind them and saw the duke enter. Dressed in black velvet with pearls and rubies sewn sparsely on his sleeves and collar, his bony face was pale and set.