Queen of the Unwanted Read online

  “Especially when you know sensitive information that he fears you will share,” she said, nodding her understanding—although she still had the sense that there was more to the story.

  “He is testing the waters. Seeing if he can remove me from the equation and sever the bond he has belatedly realized I have formed with you.”

  “But why do that when you have sensitive information about him?” she pressed. “Surely he fears that you might retaliate by telling his secrets.”

  Zarsha shook his head. “He knows I cannot, will not take the risk unless under the most dire of circumstances.”

  Ellin rose from her chair and came to stand beside him, both of them staring into the fireplace instead of at each other. She could no longer avoid the issue. “If we are to marry,” she said quietly, “you will have to tell me what it is you know.”

  He shook his head again.

  “You say your first loyalty is now to me,” she insisted. “Prove it.”

  Rarely had she seen true anger on Zarsha’s face, but there was no missing it now as he turned to her, the muscles in his jaw working, his brows lowered. “There is a limit to how many loyalty tests I am willing to take. If you don’t believe in my loyalty now, after all the ways I’ve proven myself to you, then it is clearly an impossible task.”

  Ellin had to fight off the urge to cross her arms defensively, for though it was true he had demonstrated more loyalty than she could reasonably have expected of any man, she could think of no reason why he might insist so vehemently on keeping this one secret—except that it was something he didn’t want her to know.

  “How can it possibly hurt to tell me your uncle’s secret? Unless you don’t trust me to keep the knowledge to myself. If it is a secret of such significance that it will guide the course of nations—which it clearly is—then it is necessary that I know what it is. I am not asking out of idle curiosity or prurient interest. I am doing what I must and looking after the best interests of my kingdom.”

  Zarsha’s hands were clenched into fists beside him, his whole body taut with conflict. His usually lively face was dark and shuttered, and she couldn’t read all the emotions in his eyes.

  Her heart pounded at her breastbone, and there was a substantial part of her that wished she could just drop the subject and let the secret—whatever it was—lie. If the thought of telling her bothered Zarsha this much, she did not want to put herself through the pain of hearing it. And yet she couldn’t imagine marrying him with this hanging over them—assuming it was even possible for the marriage arrangement to happen, considering Waldmir’s first reaction to the proposal.

  “I’m sorry, Zarsha,” she said. “I owe you more than I can ever repay. I might not even be alive right now, much less sitting on the throne, if it weren’t for you. I will not say there can be no secrets between us if we are to marry. But this cannot be one of them.

  “The council is beginning to lose patience with me.” Which was perhaps something of an understatement. If it weren’t for Semsulin—and to a lesser extent, Kailindar, whose support would almost certainly vanish if Alysoon’s brother failed to marry his daughter—she suspected they would be only a step or two away from open revolt. “The only reason they accepted me as queen was because they saw me as the only way to restore our relationship with Nandel, and if I cannot produce…”

  He shook his head. “That doesn’t explain why you are suddenly pressing this issue.”

  “I need to understand what Waldmir wants and why he’s playing hard to get. My lord high treasurer today suggested that perhaps it was time to reconsider our decision to trade with Women’s Well in case that might be Waldmir’s primary objection to the match.”

  Several council members had given Kailindar odd looks when he’d surprised them by opposing the idea, for they did not yet know that Kailee was on her way to Women’s Well for a potential marriage. But thanks to King Delnamal’s erratic and hostile behavior, it hadn’t been too hard to convince everyone that letting him seize control of Women’s Well would be a bad idea. But if negotiations with Waldmir continued to drag on—or if it should seem Waldmir and Delnamal were inclined to form an alliance—the suggestion might gain traction, and even Kailindar’s support might not be enough to defeat it.

  “Don’t cancel those agreements,” Zarsha said. “I’m sure my uncle would be overjoyed if you did so—and that he has hopes his hedging might make it happen—but I promise you it is not necessary. All you have to do is stand firm, and he will eventually agree.”

  “That isn’t good enough. Tell me what you know about him.”

  But once again he shook his head. “You cannot use the information to force his hand. My own life and the lives of people I care about will be forfeit if you do.”

  “Then I won’t,” she said softly. “But I have to know. You’ve made it too obvious that there’s more involved than just protecting yourself and your loved ones. There’s something you don’t want to tell me, and though I’d like to trust you wholeheartedly, I’m afraid I just can’t do that.”

  He groaned, reaching up to rub his eyes as if suddenly exhausted. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  For a long time, he just stood there, his whole body clenched and tight as he struggled to find a way out. Then he huffed out a loud, heavy sigh.

  Still looking at the fireplace, his voice coming out uncharacteristically flat, he said, “Waldmir’s youngest daughter”—he cleared his throat—“may, uh, actually be mine.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Mairah was not entirely surprised when Jalzarnin received the news of Melred’s vision with something less than unbridled enthusiasm, though she tried to present it as if she had full confidence in its authenticity. It did not take a seer’s talent to predict the outcome of the conversation—even if Norah had been too dense to see it—but Mairah would make at least a token effort to avoid the inevitable conclusion.

  “Since when has Sister Norah been so…accommodating?” the lord high priest inquired.

  Mairah did not like the hint of suspicion she saw in his eyes, for she had the uncomfortable feeling it was aimed more at her than at Norah. Even more disturbing was the fact that when he’d entered her office, instead of giving her his usual warm greeting, he’d said immediately that he did not have time for anything more intimate than a simple business meeting. She couldn’t help worrying that even as Norah was ostensibly making a genuine effort to aid Mairah’s cause, she was undermining her with more secret letters behind her back.

  “Let’s just say I’ve given her a good reason to want to cooperate,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.

  But Jalzarnin was not in the mood to simply take her at her word. Instead of returning her smile, he frowned sternly. “I have neither the time nor the patience for word games today. Tell me why I should believe this a genuine vision. It sounds to me more like a desire to satisfy idle women’s curiosity.”

  Mairah stiffened in affront. Just as well he wasn’t staying for bed sport; she didn’t imagine she’d be terrifically eager to indulge him in his present humor. And, though she didn’t wish to admit it to herself, there was no small dose of hurt behind the affront. Jalzarnin had never spoken to her in that tone of voice before, and she feared she was losing his affection. How could she possibly remain abbess if she lost his support?

  Jalzarnin sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “My apologies, dearest,” he said. “The king is being especially peevish today, and it is unfair of me to take it out on you. It’s just when I received your message, I’d rather hoped you’d have something that sounded more promising.”

  It was no secret that King Khalvin was on the moody side, but then that had been the case for as long as she could remember. Surely the lord high priest ought to be used to it by now. “The most powerful seer in our Abbey has put herself through cons
iderable misery to find a solution to the unutterable horror of men not being able to force women to bear their children. What better sign of progress could you have hoped for?”

  Mairah instantly regretted her words, but there was no way to take them back. It seemed Norah’s impassioned argument for why the Curse was really the Blessing had affected her more than she’d realized. Jalzarnin’s gaze sharpened, and she raised her chin.

  “Be careful what you say, Mother Mairahsol,” he warned. “It would be unwise to give anyone the impression that you see the Curse as anything but an abomination that must be reversed as swiftly and decisively as possible. The king overheard a group of serving women referring to it as the Blessing, and he has declared any such appellation heresy. He is eager to make an example of someone.”

  Mairah couldn’t suppress a shiver of apprehension. If the king wanted heretics to burn as an example, he could hardly find more suitable victims than inmates of the Abbey, who had already long ago been disowned by their families. Mairah wondered briefly if her own family would object if the king ordered her to burn. Her mother and her older sister would grieve, she was sure—though of course she had set eyes on neither of them since she’d been shut up behind the Abbey walls. Her father and her younger sister, however, would likely be happy to join the throng to witness the public spectacle, for they had made no secret of how they despised her for ruining the family’s reputation with her wickedness.

  “That was not a threat, Mairah,” Jalzarnin said, though it obviously had been. “I would never share anything you revealed to me in confidence.” He grimaced. “Actually, I doubt I could ever find it in my heart to denounce anyone as a heretic. I became a priest out of a desire to help people, not condemn them to die in agony.”

  Mairah suspected his decision to join the priesthood had more to do with ambition than altruism, but she was hardly about to say so. “Then if I reveal a secret to you, will you promise not to speak a word of it to anyone?”

  The only leverage Mairah held over Norah and her cohorts was her ability to reveal them as heretics, and she’d have preferred to keep that knowledge all to herself. However, having spoken too freely to Jalzarnin about her troubles with Norah, she could see why he would be skeptical—as she herself was—about Norah’s attempts to help, and it seemed she would have to explain.

  “I believe I just gave you my word.”

  Mairah bit her lip, surprised at how reluctant she was to say her piece. She hated Norah, and it should give her nothing but pleasure to reveal the woman’s sins to the lord high priest—even if she couldn’t entirely trust him to keep the knowledge to himself. What did it matter to her if Norah and all her friends died? They knew what they risked when they chose to break the law and worship their false goddess.

  Annoyed with herself, she shoved her reluctance into a back corner of her mind. “I discovered that Norah is a Mother of All worshipper,” she said. She regarded Jalzarnin’s face closely, hoping to glean his reaction, but his expression remained determinedly unreadable. “She and a couple of the other abigails had not been putting their full efforts into helping me figure out how to reverse the Curse. I told Norah that if she and her followers didn’t help me find a way, I would reveal their heresy. So you see, they have ample motivation now, which they did not have before. Which is why I believe the vision is genuine.”

  Jalzarnin shook his head, unconvinced. “It’s not like a trip to Women’s Well is some quick, overnight jaunt. There would be considerable expense involved in getting you there. The king certainly wouldn’t allow the two of you to travel so far without an armed escort. Both to guard you and to ensure that you carry out your mission. And once you are there, you’ll all need food and lodging for however long your work takes.”

  He shook his head again and leaned back in his chair, frowning fiercely. “I’m sorry, but it’s just not possible. Even if we believe the seer’s report is entirely accurate, the king would never agree to such an extravagant expenditure.” His frown deepened further. “And why would Women’s Well even allow you to come? Surely the last thing they want is for the Curse to be reversed!”

  “They obviously could not be told our true purpose,” Mairah agreed. “But I hardly think they would be surprised that women of other abbeys would be interested in learning more about their magic. I see no reason why they wouldn’t—”

  “The king’s piousness is well known throughout Seven Wells,” Jalzarnin interrupted. “I very much doubt anyone expects warm relations between our two lands. In fact, the king ordered a very…forceful refusal when the so-called sovereign princess attempted to establish a diplomatic channel. A sudden reversal would be suspicious.”

  “Women’s Well is small and newly built,” she argued. “Surely we could arrive bearing a gift of some sort that would tempt them to overlook any questions they might have about our intentions. They must be desperate for trade goods.”

  He waved that off. “Even if we could tempt them, we still have the insurmountable problem of persuading the king to send you.”

  “Well, find a way to surmount it!” Mairah snapped. “If he wants the Curse reversed badly enough, he’ll send us. The Mother did not send Sister Melred that vision for no reason, and if it is the Creator’s will that we reverse the Curse, then we must heed His messenger.” She had little patience with all this talk of the Creator and the Mother, but she knew how to speak the language of the pious—especially once Norah had already shown her the way. “The Mother obeys the Creator, and we must obey the Mother. Isn’t that what you preach and what the king forcefully encourages all his subjects to believe?”

  Jalzarnin’s gaze sharpened, and Mairah tensed. She had always taken pains to conceal her lack of faith from him. He might not make the grand spectacle of his piety that the king did, and he was far from perfect in his obedience to the Devotional, but she sensed that his quiet faith was more genuine than that of most sermonizing priests she had met. His gaze said he was weighing her and judging her for her too-obvious skepticism. But though her tone had been less than respectful, it was only the words themselves he addressed out loud.

  “From the standpoint of doctrine,” he finally said, “your argument makes perfect sense. If your seer is telling the truth about her vision. It seems you have reason to believe her, but your reason is one we cannot share with the king. He would never give credence to the visions of a confessed heretic.”

  “Then we must find some other way to convince him she’s telling the truth,” Mairah said, and something inside her shriveled. Even knowing where this conversation would inevitably lead, some part of Mairah had hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. It was one thing to order Sister Norah to fast until she nearly fainted with hunger, and quite another to turn Sister Melred over to the royal inquisitor for questioning. Norah had earned her punishment through years of unkindness and petty torments, but Melred had never said or done anything to deserve what the inquisitor would do to her.

  Mairah shoved away the memory of fleeing the room while her seers suffered under the effects of the poisons they’d drunk. At least, she reassured herself, she would not be forced to watch whatever the inquisitor did to Sister Melred.

  Jalzarnin smiled, showing no sign that he noticed Mairah’s discomfort. Or that he felt any similar discomfort himself at the thought of ordering the torture of an innocent. “I suppose that could be arranged,” he said with a pensive nod. “We would not have any legal grounds to subject her to questioning, but I suspect if I explain the situation to the king, he will see the necessity of it and grant us a dispensation.”

  Mairah squirmed as she tried not to think about what Melred would suffer. But if it was a choice between allowing an innocent to suffer and suffering herself…Well, then that was no true choice. Besides, Melred was a heretic loyal to Sister Norah. She wasn’t really an innocent, no matter how sweet-natured she might seem. “I’m not very well acquainted with Sister
Melred,” she said in a voice that held the faintest of quavers. “It’s possible she would recant immediately under threat of torture.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Jalzarnin replied. Often in the past, she’d been warmed by how clearly he seemed to see her, to care about her thoughts and feelings, but if he noticed her disquiet, he showed no sign of it. “The inquisitor is very skilled at prying the truth out of people who would say anything to stop the pain. He is a true master at sorting truth from lies.”

  Mairah clasped her hands together tightly under her desk. She was under no illusion that Jalzarnin was an especially nice or kind man. He’d more than once demonstrated a ruthlessness Mairah had so far been unable to match. She would happily hurt those who had wronged her without feeling a hint of remorse, but Jalzarnin would just as remorselessly strike at those whose only crime was standing in his way. And yet he was still somehow generally well-liked and well-regarded, while Mairah was reviled and feared. The injustice of it burned.

  Mairah fully intended to keep her thoughts to herself, but somehow she found herself speaking. “It doesn’t trouble you at all? To order an innocent woman tortured?”

  Jalzarnin raised his eyebrows at her, and the look on his face was one of genuine surprise. “Is that not what you had in mind all along when you brought this situation to my attention?”

  “Yes, but…” Her voice trailed off helplessly.

  He nodded and leaned forward in his chair, reaching one of his hands over the length of the desk. Reluctantly, she wiped a sweaty palm over the skirt of her robes, then laid her hand in his. His touch was not as comforting as it had once been.

  “I take no pleasure in it,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. “But it is the king’s demand that the Curse be reversed, and I am the king’s loyal subject.”

  She frowned at him. “I was under the impression you didn’t agree the reversal of the Curse was such a pressing necessity.” He had all but said that all she needed to do was give the illusion she might be able to reverse it.