Queen of the Unwanted Page 25

  “Kailee Rah-Kailindar is on her way,” Alys said, and Tynthanal stiffened even more, his whole body tight and tense. Unable to bear her brother’s poorly hidden emotions, Alys focused on Chanlix instead. “I presume you have seen no success with the potions as of yet?”

  Without looking at him, Chanlix placed a calming hand on Tynthanal’s arm. He did not pull away, but he didn’t relax, either. “Not yet, I’m afraid,” she responded. “But we have more yet to try. And we can quicken the pace.”

  “I don’t want to risk making him ill,” Alys said, remembering all too well what had happened to Shelvon when Delnamal had forced her to keep taking fertility potions despite their obvious failure. She had become thin and wan, her sleep shattered by the stimulant effects of the Shel in the potions.

  Chanlix smiled at her ruefully. “As a former abigail, I am well aware of the effects of too much fertility potion. I promise I will take good care of him.”

  Tynthanal snorted. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If the girl is on her way already, then I must risk becoming ill if necessary. I’ll take one every day if I have to.” He met Alys’s eyes for the first time. “I cannot pretend I am happy about my duty, no matter what Chanlix might prefer, but I will do it nonetheless.”

  “I hope you know I’m not happy about it, either,” she retorted.

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I know, Alys. I know. But you’ve always been better at pretending than I have.”

  She shook her head slightly, reminding herself that he’d had a very different upbringing than she. His entry into the Citadel at fourteen meant that he had never learned the intricate steps of the court dance, which required a great deal of hiding true feelings behind a practiced smile.

  “Kailee will have to take a roundabout route to get here,” she said. “Aaltah, of course, has denied her passage, so she will have to travel by sea to Grunir. We have some time, but I don’t know what we will do if she arrives and we have not cured your…condition. We have at least to some extent invited her here under false pretenses, and I don’t imagine her father or Queen Ellinsoltah will be very pleased if we are forced to confess that.”

  “If we cannot find a cure,” Chanlix said, “then our only option is to feign ignorance. If Lord Kailindar—and Kailee, of course—agree to the match, then we will test the bloodlines and profess surprise when they turn out not to be compatible.”

  “That might save us from the perceived offense,” Alysoon countered, “but it would leave us no better off than we are now. With Ellinsoltah’s hold of her throne in jeopardy and with the difficulties we’ve had in delivering trade goods, we become an unattractive ally, to say the least.”

  “So we find Kailee a different husband,” Tynthanal said. “As long as she is here in Women’s Well, Lord Kailindar will want to maintain the alliance, whether Ellinsoltah remains on the throne or he takes it himself.”

  He said it with little hope in his voice, for he had to know that if there were another suitable match for Kailee, he would not be in his current situation.

  “There is no one else in all of Women’s Well who would be a tempting match for a woman of Kailee’s pedigree,” Chanlix said. “I can count on one hand the number of unmarried gentlemen in our midst, and you are the only one of sufficient rank for a girl only two steps removed from the throne of Rhozinolm.”

  Chanlix was, of course, right. Women’s Well had grown enormously since its foundation, but it seemed they only attracted those whose circumstances were desperate. Theirs was a land of poor and unwanted commoners, of people who could not find a comfortable place for themselves in one of the established kingdoms or principalities. Most especially, theirs was a land of women, for Women’s Well offered freedom and opportunities for unmarried—or unhappily married—women that no other land could give. Alys had once bitterly referred to her mother as the “Queen of the Unwanted,” but the moniker now seemed to apply to herself, as well.

  “Then we must find some other means to keep her here,” Tynthanal argued.

  “I hope you’re not suggesting reviving the reprehensible practice of keeping hostages,” Alys said, glaring at her brother. The practice of keeping royal hostages had been outlawed across all kingdoms and principalities more than a century ago, though of course such arrangements still occurred in a less formalized—and unacknowledged—manner.

  She was relieved at the look of horror on her brother’s face. “That wasn’t what I meant at all!” he exclaimed. “I merely meant we must find ways to tempt her with the freedom that could be hers here. In Rhozinolm, she will always have to fear being relegated to the Abbey, and here such is not the case. Surely that might make Women’s Well attractive to her even if I can’t be her husband.”

  Alys made a noncommittal sound that might be taken as agreement, but she very much doubted Kailee would have the freedom to choose her fate. Ellin said Kailindar doted on his daughter, and as such he likely wanted her happiness. However, as a father, he would want her safety even more. Without the legal protections and treaties that would come from an alliance by marriage between two royal houses, Alys doubted he’d trust his daughter’s safety in Women’s Well. By far their best hope of survival was curing Tynthanal’s deficiency and arranging that marriage.

  “If nothing else,” Chanlix said, and Alys thought she could read the same thoughts in her grand magus’s eyes, “we can at least try to find a cure for her blindness. It’s probably too much to hope that Lord Kailindar would become our staunch ally out of gratitude, but it might at least win us some short-term goodwill.”

  “I suppose,” Alys agreed doubtfully. “But we will all be better off if I can make that fertility potion work.”

  She hated the bleak look that colored her brother’s eyes as he nodded his silent agreement.

  * * *

  —

  Ellin opened the secret door in her bedroom, and Zarsha gave her his usual respectful bow—which on the surface was a little absurd for a man sneaking into a queen’s bedroom at night.

  “Do you not think it slightly ironic, Your Majesty,” he said, “that after having thoroughly schooled me on my dreadful habit of instigating too many clandestine meetings in your room you should soon thereafter initiate one yourself?” This mouthful was said with a perfectly straight and serious expression that might almost have been convincing were it not followed by the habitual grin.

  Ellin huffed and shook her head at him. “I believe it was Star who took you to task, and not I.”

  Zarsha cast a furtive look both left and right. “And just where might your lady’s maid be at the moment?”

  Ellin smiled at his familiar wit, hoping to keep her nerves firmly under control. Today’s council meeting had convinced her that this conversation was of vital importance, but she was under no illusion that Zarsha would be happy with her when he found out why she’d asked him to her rooms.

  “I told her I would ring for her when I was ready. I promise she will not burst through the door to swat you with a broom, though it might amuse me to watch her do so.”

  He laughed. “Don’t think me such a gentleman that I won’t use you as a shield to protect myself.”

  She laughed and gestured him to the pair of chairs by the fireplace. They had sat in those chairs often enough that even when she was alone in the room, Ellin hesitated to sit in the one she thought of as Zarsha’s. Which might suggest she was allowing herself to become too comfortable.

  There was a decanter of sweet cherry cordial on the side table, and Zarsha paused to fill a tiny glass and offer it to her before pouring another for himself. She realized belatedly that it had been some sort of a test on Zarsha’s part, trying to determine the nature of her summons. Drinking cordials together suggested something of a social nature, and she was glad she had unwittingly agreed, for it should set just the kind of relaxed tone she desired. It was perhaps not
especially sporting of her to try to catch him off guard, but she would need every advantage.

  Ellin fidgeted with her glass, then took a small sip. Her mouth flooded with sweetness and the lovely tart tang that followed. She licked her lips, and then, still looking demurely at the liquor, asked the question she had never quite dared put into words. “I know we’ve danced around this a couple of times, but now that I am out of mourning and the question is no longer theoretical, I have to ask: why do you want to marry me?”

  The question was something of a front, a way to step sideways into what she really wanted to talk about, but she was not disinterested in the answer. She was fairly certain Zarsha was fond of her—perhaps even more than merely fond—but she wasn’t sure that fondness was enough to explain his single-minded pursuit over the course of more than a year.

  Zarsha thought about the question for a surprisingly long time, turning the cordial glass around and around absently as he stared into the glowing embers of the fire, which had been banked for the night. Then he turned and looked at her, the intensity in those icy blue eyes of his nearly taking her breath away.

  “I’ve known you long enough to realize that you won’t believe me, but I’ll tell you the truth anyway. I want to marry you because I’m in love with you.”

  There was a part of Ellin that wanted to believe that; however, she was not the starry-eyed girl she used to be, and life had already taught her that what you wanted to believe was rarely the truth. “You were willing to look the other way when I slept with another man. That is not something I can imagine a man in love would do.”

  Zarsha took another sip of his cordial. “It will come as no great surprise to you to hear that I, in my arrogance, was convinced I would win you away from him. I imagined it would be with the force of my personality and charm, not because he would act like a witless fool, but I had enough ego to consider myself capable of it.” He looked up at her once more. “He was never going to be enough for you, Ellin. You need a man who can be your partner in life, who can be your equal in marriage, if not in rank. Graesan was not capable of that, could not see in you the things I did. That I do.”

  Her heart gave a gentle squeeze as she realized that, dear as Graesan had been to her, Zarsha was right. Graesan had had no grasp of—or interest in—the politics of the court, and though she was sure he had genuinely loved her as she had loved him, he had seen her as a naïve young woman in need of his protection, not as an equal. He had tried to kill Zarsha to “protect” his fragile, innocent queen from her own folly. Zarsha had many faults, but he’d never presume he had the right to make her decisions for her.

  “He’s doing fine, you know,” Zarsha said. “I’m sure he’s less than thrilled with his new position, but he is adjusting.”

  Ellin closed her eyes and ordered herself not to cry. That Zarsha had not only let his would-be murderer live but had even spirited him away to Nandel and provided him employment—all to spare Ellin the pain of her former lover’s death—was an extraordinary act of kindness. But she wasn’t certain whether sparing Graesan had been an act of love or merely another attempt to win her hand for his secret purposes.

  “Love is about putting someone else’s needs above your own,” Zarsha added softly. “It’s a concept very few truly grasp, but I believe in it with all my heart. I will be a good husband to you, Ellin. And I hope that someday you will come to love me as I love you.”

  He reached across the space between them and took her free hand in his, twining his fingers with hers. She felt no particular need to pull away, the touch of his hand like an anchor, holding her in the here and now.

  She had allowed the conversation to drift, allowed Zarsha to steer it when she had meant to do so herself. It was necessary that she shutter her emotions and allow her intellect to direct her.

  “Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know,” she said, aware the question was coming out of nowhere. But Zarsha would not be surprised by her attempt to change the subject at this moment. She gave him a shy glance from below her lashes. “I know so little about your life before I first met you.”

  Between the stilted courtship that had taken place between them when her father had contracted her to marry him over her objections and the need to fight to protect her throne, she and Zarsha had had very few truly intimate conversations despite having known each other more than a year now.

  “I know your father was a diplomat,” she continued, “and that you traveled with him from court to court, but I know very little else.”

  He gave her hand another squeeze, then let go and sat back in his chair. Ellin found herself missing the warmth of the contact. His eyes turned inward as he thought, and Ellin took another sip of her cordial to fight the urge to prod him. She did not want him to feel as if this were an interrogation.

  “It is not uncommon for diplomats to travel to their assignments without their families,” Zarsha said, once more staring into the embers. “In fact, I’d say that is the more usual practice, so that diplomats often see very little of their wives and children. I don’t know for sure why my father chose to do it differently—I never could get him to give me a straight answer while he lived, and my mother professes ignorance. But I have my own guesses, built on snippets of information I gleaned over the years.

  “I believe there was some competition between my father and my uncle for my mother’s affections.”

  Ellin raised an eyebrow. “Surely the sovereign prince needn’t fear competition from a younger brother.”

  “The rivalry began after my parents’ marriage, not before.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think my father did not trust Waldmir to honor the bonds of matrimony, and that is why my mother and I and eventually my brother all traveled with him.”

  Which meant that the enmity between Waldmir and Zarsha had likely started when Zarsha was very young—possibly even too young to understand just why his father had such poor relations with his brother.

  “That must have been…difficult,” she ventured.

  He shrugged. “I knew no different. And as I said, I had to piece together this theory from a series of hints. It was clear to me from a young age that there was tension between my father and my uncle, but my father would always deny it.”

  “So which courts did you grow up in?”

  Zarsha smiled. “I spent at least a year or two in all of them, but I spent the majority of my youth living either in Par or Khalpar.”

  “As far away from Nandel as is physically possible, you mean.”

  His smile broadened, and there was no hint of bitterness in his eyes. “Indeed.”

  “Wasn’t that…hard? To spend so much time away from home?”

  He shook his head and finished his cordial, setting the glass down. “It was always returning to Nandel that was hard. I was brought up with the bright colors and gaiety of foreign courts, living always in homes that were opulent in comparison even to the royal palace in Nandel. I was used to temperate winters and easy travel. Every return to Nandel was a slap in the face. My parents both missed it when we were away, but I certainly never did.”

  That explained why he was perfectly at ease committing himself to a life in Rhozinolm when it was usually expected that a woman move to her husband’s homeland rather than vice versa. And now it was time to try to nudge the conversation closer to its purpose.

  “So how did you go from being a diplomat’s son who was not especially fond of his homeland to serving as your uncle’s spy in Rhozinolm?”

  His eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensing, but she had the instant impression he was not surprised by the question, that he had perhaps seen through her from the beginning and known where she was leading.

  “Are you under the impression that I don’t know Lord Kailindar has been in contact with my uncle or that I don’t have a good idea how initial inquiries were recei
ved?” he asked. He might have anticipated her line of inquiry, but his sharp undertone said he did not much appreciate her attempt at subterfuge. She might even have felt chastened, were it not of great importance that she learn whatever he was hiding.

  “You would be a very poor spy indeed if you did not. And I don’t think you’re a poor spy.”

  “I never said I was a spy.”

  “You never said you weren’t, either.”

  “All right, I’ll say it now: I’m not a spy.”

  Ellin put down the glass of cordial, still more than half full. Zarsha had always made a point of not lying to her, of simply refusing to answer questions he could not answer truthfully. But this, she was sure, was an outright lie, and it was like a slap to her face.

  Zarsha huffed and rose to his feet, turning his back to her slightly as he faced what was left of the fire. The fingers of one hand drummed restlessly against his leg, and he spoke to the embers rather than to her.

  “I wanted to win you, and I knew I could not do it if I returned home to Nandel. My uncle is painfully aware of my propensity for learning secrets, and so I offered my talents in his service if he would appoint me as special envoy. He preferred placing his nosy nephew in a foreign court than in his own.”

  Ellin shook her head. “How does that make you not a spy?”

  He turned back to her. “A spy works on his master’s behalf to further his master’s cause. I work to further your cause. I have sent sensitive information to my uncle—but it was all regarding Tamzin and Kailindar. I told him I was certain one or both would make a try for the throne, and I sent everything I could find about them. Tamzin, especially, had a lot of dirty little secrets. But I sent nothing about you, and I stopped sending any information at all after Tamzin died. Which is why my uncle is now especially unhappy with me. I have blatantly shifted my loyalties to you, and that is a bitter pill for a man of Nandel to swallow.”