The Other Lands (42 page)

“Who is that?” Corinn asked, gesturing with her chin.

Her maid answered that this was King Grae of Aushenia. The woman continued to explain that he would have been announced more formally, but he had arrived just a few hours earlier and asked to be in attendance this evening, even if just to watch the court from the—

“I know,” she said. “Summon him.” She glanced at the priest, smiling. “I’m sure the Vadayan will offer his seat to foreign royalty.”

As she sat watching the messenger sent by the maid make his way through the crowd, Corinn wondered why she had done that. The words just came out of her mouth. She had claimed indifference to Grae to Rhrenna earlier; now she called him to her after a glance. The Meinish woman would find ways to poke fun at her for this, she was sure. It was done now, so she sat straight backed and waited, making a point of not watching the messenger interact with the king.

And just like that, before she knew it, a maid announced the monarch with a whisper in her ear. Corinn looked down the steps leading up to the dais and there he was, head bowed. His turbulent hair sported no crown, but that was a reasonable deference here in the heart of the empire. It wasn’t that he really looked like Igguldan had, years before when Corinn first met him, but the sight of Grae came bearing more import than she had expected. First love, she thought. That’s what it was. Foolishness. So thinking, she cursed herself for asking him over. What emotions would show on her face if she thought of such things here, with all the court’s eyes on her? But she could do nothing now but go forward, composed.

The Aushenian straightened. Tall then. His shoulders broad and his form slim beneath them. He wore the loose-fitting shirt his nation favored, open at the collar, partially revealing the lean muscle beneath his coppery chest hairs. “Your Majesty,” he said, smiling. “I am honored. I did not wish to disturb you, only to watch this wonderful occasion from the fringes.”

Ah, that Aushenian accent. She had heard it often over the years, but it still had a strange effect on her. Its bold tones and clipped edges had poetry in their very nature. She felt her cheeks threatening to flush, but quelled it. “It wouldn’t do to have a king sit among the merchant class. There are so few kings of note these days. I couldn’t help but ask you to sit beside me. Please do.”

“I’m honored.” He pressed his lips to the rings of her proffered hand and then took the seat recently vacated by the priest. Grae’s face was dangerously reminiscent of Igguldan’s, though of slightly more masculine cut, just a little bit heavier in the jaw and bolder in the cheekbones. Even his freckles contributed, as if they had been splashed there playfully, intentionally. He was handsome. Corinn admitted Rhrenna was right about that.

He passed a few moments spouting the usual expressions of respect, and then sat grinning at the gathering before them. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I’m ever amazed at the spectacle that is an Acacian banquet. The food alone is amazing. The music entrancing. The guests both dignified and courteous. The women are the most beautiful I’ve yet discovered in the world.”

“Have you made a thorough survey of beauty in the world?”

“I have traveled, and I have eyes.”

Certainly you do, Corinn thought. The kind of blue eyes that adolescent girls swoon over. “Detail your findings for me, then.”

Grae laughed and moved to dismiss the subject with a motion of his fingers.

“No, I mean it, sir. Tell me.”

She held him to the point until he began an awkward description of the empire’s races and descriptions of their women’s qualities. He fumbled at first, but picking up on Corinn’s projected good humor he soon made a game of it. Halfway through his discourse, Corinn joked that he seemed to have found beauty everywhere he looked. He did not dispute it, but by the end he circled back to where he had begun. He concluded that Acacian beauty is superior because it contained so much of the world within it. “All the virtues of the races, none of the flaws. Your beauty, my queen, is that of the center point of the world.”

Corinn’s brow wrinkled with skepticism. “Indeed.” She took a wineglass offered her by a servant. Grae did the same. “Where’s your brother?” she asked. “I heard you two travel together frequently.”

“We do,” Grae said, “but he’s off studying agricultural techniques on the Mainland. He likes to be industrious, my little brother.”

“I know the type. You were close to him when you were young?”

They were, Grae agreed. At Corinn’s prompting, he told her several tales of their youth, hiding in the far north of Aushenia. Such a wild country, he made it seem, though that might have been because he still imagined it with a frightened child’s eyes. She could picture those mountains and thick forests and white bears and snowstorms and swarms of insects as thick as flocks of migrating birds.

“We could not hide forever, though,” Grae said. “So I did eventually come back into the world. Only it was a world in which my father and older brother no longer lived. It was a world in which my nation was overrun with foreigners, carved up, a playground for the Numrek. Dire times. Better that they are behind us now.”

“You didn’t fight for my brother, did you?”

“For Aliver?” Grae looked uneasy, but then regained his composure and answered with what appeared to be simple honesty. “No, I didn’t, but I would have. Proudly, I would have. When he was massing to press his battle against Maeander in Talay, I was fighting for the life of my nation. I fought the remnants of the Numrek still on my soil, and I expelled the Mein and closed the Gradthic Gap. It was bloody, and … Well, I would argue that Aliver and I were fighting common enemies, even if we did not do so together.”

Corinn did not comment on the later statement. “Tell me, when you say that you fought, what does that mean exactly? I mean, I fought Hanish himself, right here in Acacia, but that doesn’t mean I actually drew his blood with my own blade. My sister does that sort of thing, not me. But you, when you fight, do you fight yourself, or do you instruct others to fight in your name?”

“My sword is no virgin blade,” Grae said. Corinn noted a flare of arrogance held back. “I never sent men into battle. I led them into battle. I will not brag to you, Your Majesty. That would be unseemly. But I invite you to ask others of my character. I think you will find my reputation is sound.”

No doubt, Corinn thought. He did look the part of a leader of men. She could imagine him in armor, sword in hand, inspiring others to acts of bravery. Outwardly, he was the type of man both men and women would follow. She made a note mentally to look into his reputation, as he himself had suggested.

Beneath them the banquet continued. At some point, Wren entered. Corinn followed her with her eyes for some time, believing she could just see the first signs of her pregnancy at her waist, not enough that others would notice, but it was there. Lady Wren, secretly carrying Dariel’s child. What did she intend? Delivegu had learned that she planned to announce the child once the prince had returned. Doesn’t trust me to react with joy to the news, is that it? Corinn wondered. You may be shrewder than I credit. I’ll figure out what to do with you yet.

Different courses came and went from the tables. The musicians played. On several occasions Corinn and Grae had to pause to acknowledge some toast or to chat briefly with those who had the temerity to approach the dais. Once a storyteller told of how King Standish put down the revolt and kept peace in the world, an elaborate tale that Corinn knew had little truth in it. She had enough of the early king’s private journals to know how much the official record differed from the confessions of the monarch behind the myth.

She was not listening much, for Grae made for diverting company. Praise for her horse culture plans rolled off his tongue. Aushenians, he said, considered their equine traditions part of what had nurtured their independent spirit. To imagine such a connection with noble beasts near the heart of mighty empire like Acacia excited him greatly. He offered his countrymen’s expertise, if Acacia had use for it. Corinn said she likely did, half forgetting that she had started the whole business just to keep her ambitious councillors busy.

Grae was almost too diverting. She sensed something held back in him, an arrogance that hid beneath his genial façade. It wasn’t exactly unattractive—especially as he controlled it—but it did make her wonder.

Perhaps she had absorbed too many breaths of her own spell, for she asked, “King Grae, just what is it you’re really after?”

Grae jerked his glass of wine away from his lips in midsip, spilling a bit. “My lady?”

Feeling as playful about it as she appeared, she leaned close and, knowing the posture pressed her breasts together and that Grae had to keep his eyes from straying to them, asked, “No man comes to me without wanting something—not even a king. What is it you want?”

“I won’t try to hide the truth from you,” Grae said, losing his relaxed demeanor for a moment. “I’d fail if I did. I’m an admirer. I always have been, but … perhaps I’ve matured enough to understand it.”

“And become brave enough to voice it, at least vaguely.”

Grae dipped his head, but kept his eyes on her. “I’ll happily get more specific if you—”

“Would like? Well, I would. Indulge me.” She stretched out the last sentence, using her lips and the tilt of her head to add allure. She still did not know quite what had gotten into her. When was the last time she had flirted with a man? Ages. Since Hanish, but what sort of flirting was that? Mostly, she had attacked him with her sharp tongue. Strange method of courting. No, she had not batted her eyes at a man since adolescence, since Igguldan. But whereas that had seemed a memory too painful to approach before, Grae seemed a version of the same things she had admired in his brother—a living version, sitting beside her.

“You really wish to know?” he asked. “For me to say it outright? That’s not Aushenian style. Normally, I’d have to compose a poem—”

“Which would be very entertaining, I’m sure. Do compose one and recite it for me later. At present, though, be direct.”

The king sat a minute looking like a perplexed child, and then he shrugged and regained his charm. “As you wish, Your Majesty. The truth is, I’ve come in the hope that I might court you, and that if the signs seemed favorable I might offer myself for marriage. With all the respect due your elevated position.”

Ah … So there it is. At least he speaks plainly. “You want to make me your wife?”

“I’d be content for you to make me your husband, Your Majesty.” He leaned toward her. “Look, I am a proud man, content to fight for my honor, to rebuff any insult. And Aushenia is a proud nation. But I’m also a reasonable man. You, Queen Corinn, are a woman—and ruler—of both grace and immense power. You can’t be surprised that I’d wish us and our nations joined. I trust this doesn’t offend you. You did ask for me—”

“To be straightforward. No, no, I’m not so easily offended. Certainly not by such reasonable flattery. You do catch me off guard, though. I had no idea my marital status was so much on the mind of Aushenia.”

“Oh, it is, believe me. At least in so far as I am Aushenia.”

Corinn remembered then that she once professed no fondness for blue eyes. Who wants to look into water? she had teased Rhrenna. She would hardly be able to say that now, with Grae’s eyes so intent on her, so refreshing. That’s what they were: the promise of a cool drink of water to a thirsty mouth. She almost laughed outright at the metaphor. It was the Aushenians who gamed at poetry. She should leave it to them.

“You know that no such union would be on equal terms,” she said, straightening and speaking with the hint of royal detachment. “We would swallow you. I don’t say there aren’t advantages to that, but we’ve trod near this path before.”

“I know,” Grae said, responding with a similarly aloof tone. “And I know you won my brother’s heart before mine. But that was not to be. We who remain, however, still have our lives to live. My father and brother both wanted an Acacian-Aushenian union. It is usually the case that great ideas are delayed. The early prophets are slain or maligned. Often we see the full wisdom of visionaries only in retrospect.”

“And the retrospective view of your queen Elena? She would not bless this union you propose, would she?”

Corinn did not get the chance to hear his answer. Someone shouted, a rough bark that had no place at a banquet. A second later a scream—high-pitched and feminine—cut through the revelry and left silence in its place. That did not last long, as people began to point and murmur and exclaim.

“What is that about?” Grae asked. He followed the pointing fingers—there were more each moment—and Corinn did the same.

For a few long seconds she did not believe what she saw. And then when she believed that her eyes did see the thing she wondered if it was not some elaborate hoax. And then she knew it was not, just as the crowd knew it and erupted in chaos. What she saw was a winged creature, its wings enormous, lit from underneath by the torchlight and bright against the screen of the night sky behind it, descending toward them. Its body was sinewy and curved, its head that of a reptilian beast, its tail whipping audibly beneath it. Hind legs lashed the air, and for a moment Corinn was certain the monster was going to fall on her.

“A dragon,” she whispered, and knew in that instant how quickly death could fall from the sky.

“Archers!” Grae called, on his feet now, shielding Corinn.

There were no archers, though. There never were at banquets. Guests were forbidden weapons, and the only arms allowed inside were those of high-ranked Marah and of her Numrek bodyguards. Both forces peeled away from the walls and pushed toward her, drawing their weapons and shouting for the crowd to make way. They surrounded her, shoving Grae aside. They formed a bristling buttress with their swords pointed skyward. The creature circled a few times above them. In one turn Corinn thought she saw—But that couldn’t be.

And then the creature landed. Its feet settled on the courtyard stones with a surprising lightness. With a strange rolling of its shoulders and quick clicking sound, it drew its wings in. Blinking its large, round eyes, it took in the cowering people and the sudden disarray it had caused. The creature held its two thin upper arms delicately before it, claw tips touching and eyes darting about with the nervous energy of a child who suspects she has done something either wonderful or punishable but awaits confirmation of which it is.