Blackveil (79 page)

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Authors: Kristen Britain

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #fantasy, #Epic

BOOK: Blackveil
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E
stora sank into the plush chair in her parlor in the royal apartments with a cup of her bedtime tea. Her new rooms were spacious and beautiful, but impersonal. With time, she’d transform them to her own tastes, make them her home.
Time,
she thought.
What time?
How could she consider fabrics and colors and furnishings when every waking moment brought visitors offering congratulations and seeking favors? Or Cummings with interminable lists of meetings and parties and requests? Or messengers bearing news of the land and correspondence from those who were now her vassals? Or Colin to discuss the business of the castle and the realm?
Or or or!
She sighed. The only quiet time she was able to claim were her visits with Zachary. Destarion expressed guarded optimism that there were some improvements in her husband’s condition. He rested more easily, his fevers were less intense, and his wound was healing well. There had been some brief awakenings, his dark brown eyes fluttering open, but it was difficult to know how aware he was at those times. All too soon he’d slip away again. Part of the reason, Destarion said, was because of a soporific they gave him to keep him relaxed, permitting his body the time and rest to heal itself.
Besides Estora’s visits with Zachary, the only other quiet time she had was when she went to bed. Usually she was so exhausted by the rigors of her day that she slept soundly and deeply. How could she not sleep well in the canopied monstrosity that had the softest down mattress on which she’d ever lain?
Ellen, her Weapon, entered the parlor. “Your Highness?”
“Yes?”
“Lord Spane has asked to see you.”
Richmont.
What did he want at this hour? She found she was displeased, but he was her cousin and had done much to help her. “I will see him.”
He had not been around much of late. She imagined he’d been intriguing his way about the castle and the noble quarter in the city, securing his newly elevated position in court. He hadn’t been given a formal office, but he’d taken it for granted he was her advisor and close confidant as he had been for her father. She did not favor him, but at the moment he was all she had.
“My lady,” he drawled as he entered the parlor and swiftly bowed. “May we speak privately?” He cast a significant look at Ellen.
Estora nodded a dismissal and the Weapon exited to resume her vigil from outside. “What is it, Richmont? It’s been a wearisome day and I’m ready for my bed.”
He gave her a silky smile she did not like.
“Your readiness for bed is precisely why I’m here,” he said. “There is more yet for you to attend to this night.”
“Can’t it wait? Early tomorrow morning ought to be soon enough. Unless it is an emergency?”
Richmont’s smile deepened. “But
now
is bedtime. Should you not be going to your husband’s bed as is befitting a new bride?”
She set the teacup aside and it rattled into its saucer. “He’s injured—not well. You know that. He’ll rest better without my presence.”
“Even so, the marriage of a king and queen dictates certain traditions be followed. The witnesses have already assembled.”
“You can’t possibly be suggesting . . . the rite of consummation? He’s
ill,
Richmont.”
“All the kings and queens before you have observed the ritual, as must the lord-governors, including your mother and father, who did so unreservedly. Of course we are well-acquainted with the king’s condition, so the act will be more . . . symbolic. Still, it must be done to ensure the further appeasement of the lord-governors to make your transition to regnant unimpeachable.”
“Oh, gods,” she murmured, shaking her head.
Estora was certain that most couples naturally desired to spend their marriage night, and subsequent nights, together doing their duty, but in front of others? She could only surmise that the whole tradition of witnesses was carried on by those who were titillated by watching their rulers perform the act.
“I could proclaim a new law revoking the rite,” Estora mused, and as she thought about it, it did not seem a bad idea.
“You could,” Richmont agreed, “but then the lord-governors would definitely challenge your right to reign.”
She stood and paced, gown and robe flowing about her feet. Then she halted. “There is no way Zachary is able. He’s not even conscious.”
“Destarion says he’s had moments of awareness. And you underestimate the male drive. But as I’ve said earlier, Zachary’s condition is being taken into consideration and tonight will be symbolic. We merely ask that you sleep beside him.”
“And this will satisfy your witnesses?”
“For the purposes of the rite, yes. For their personal enjoyment? Doubtful.”
“Of all the maddening things. I’m supposed to be queen, but everyone else is telling me what to do. And even that which is most sacred and private must be performed before an audience.”
“I suggest you accustom yourself to it. It is your life now. So, will you do this thing or must I throw you into his bed myself?”
“Richmont, I do not care for your tone. You do not have the command of me, and in fact, I am not sure I even wish you to take part in my court.”
He closed in on her and grasped her wrist, wrenching it. “Think again,” he hissed.
“You’re hurting me,” Estora protested.
He drew her close, close enough that she felt the heat of his body. His face was twisted in an ugly way she’d never seen before.
“I have labored hard and long to bring this all to pass,” he said in a harsh whisper. “You will not upset my plans.”
“What are you talking about?” She tried to wrest her arm away from him but his hand was like a cuff of steel.
“You will not ruin everything I’ve labored for all these years, for you, your father, and myself.” He released her, and shocked, she stepped away from him rubbing her wrist.
“I believe,” he continued, “willing or no, I can make you comply with my wishes.”
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying, my dear cousin, there are things I know about you that could irreparably harm you and your standing both in the realm and with your clan. I know about you and a Green Rider named F’ryan Coblebay.”
“Zachary already knows about F’ryan and me.”
Richmont smirked. “Yes, and Coblebay is dead and gone, but there are still influential persons who know nothing of Zachary’s acceptance of your . . . soiled virtue, and Zachary is in no condition, and may never be, to come to your defense. There are still others of more traditional leanings who’d frown upon your dalliances with a commoner. They’d be all too eager to use the information to discredit your standing across the realm. The people expect their king to be marrying a maiden pure and unbesmirched by some lowly messenger. If you do not obey my wishes, I can expand the story, add salacious details, and send it out into the world.”
Estora grew cold. He was right about the traditionalists and how they’d react. Her father had been one of them so she was well acquainted with the mind-set. There were many people who’d go from celebrating her marriage to condemning her. She could be exiled, or worse. And where would that leave the realm? In the very turmoil they were trying to avoid by having moved up the wedding.
“Wouldn’t that ruin all the plans you’ve made for yourself?” she demanded.
“I have plans for every contingency,” he replied, seeming to enjoy himself immensely. “I can destroy not just your reputation, but that of your family’s as well. Perhaps I could breed doubt about your parentage.”
“My parentage!”
He gazed at her as if trying to discern something. “You favor your mother, but I don’t see your father in you. Have you ever noticed how your sisters aren’t quite the same in looks as you?”
“Richmont!”
“I seem to recall your mother having her eye on a handsome minstrel a certain number of years ago. He’d come to play and sing at the Day of Aeryon feast. Hmm, the timing is about right for—”
“How
dare
you!”
“Oh, I dare. As I question your paternity, I can call into question everything your father ever did. Or in this case, did not do.” He laughed. “Or maybe it is your sisters who are the bastards. Will your sister prove strong enough to hold the reins of Coutre Province once I begin leaking my little stories? Even the hint of rumor, even innuendo, could bring her down. People will come to their own conclusions. And, once I’ve succeeded in tearing down your father’s bloodline, they will come to me, to my line, to govern the province.”
Estora clenched her hands at her sides in an effort to keep from clawing out his eyes. She seethed within. It was true that if her father’s line failed, Richmont would succeed as lord-governor of Coutre Province.
“Tell me,” she said, trying to master her voice, “why I should not direct my guards to arrest you for threatening the queen? I could call my Weapon in here right this instant.”
“You won’t because I’ve been busy making friends, important and powerful friends. Friends who are favorable toward me, but not necessarily toward you, and I’ve a trusted and loyal servant with letters in his keeping that will go to these friends of mine should anything happen to me. The letters are filled with my little stories and my friends will immediately spread them around.
“Of course,” he added as if an afterthought, “theirs is not necessarily a friendship based on trust, for I know their secrets, too. A simple whisper in the right person’s ear is a powerful thing, you know. It can ruin many lives, tear down entire governments.
“Just know, my dear cousin, that one misstep on your part and the whole realm will not only know of the depravities of your bloodline, but will
believe
them.”
Estora refused to weep or show weakness. She wished to scream, but she had to remain calm. She lifted her chin. “My father loved you like the son he never had, and you’ve betrayed him.”
“His feelings for me made him easier to manipulate. For instance, if not for me convincing him to hold out for the king, he’d have wed you to Alton D’Yer, or that whelp of a lord-governor from Penburn. And can you say that I’ve betrayed him? Truly, I am carrying out his wishes that you be queen of the realm. I will only change tactics if
you
betray him by ruining everything we’ve done for you. If you obey my wishes, then we both benefit. If you do not? Then I will just benefit in a different way.
“Now it is time to see your husband. You understand me, don’t you?”
“I believe I understand all too well.” Estora shuddered with revulsion. “You have enlightened me on many things this evening, Richmont.” He in fact had allowed his mask of the good cousin to slip, and now that she saw him for who he really was, she could watch him. Eventually his self-interest would conflict with her concern for the well-being of the realm. Had he not revealed himself and his machinations this night, she’d never know what he was up to until it was too late.
He gave her a mocking bow.
“Very well,” she said. “Let’s have this done.”
Estora led the way out into the corridor that connected her private chambers with Zachary’s. Awaiting her there was Colin, Ellen, and her maid. Estora turned to the Weapon.
“Ellen,” she said, “please see to it that you and the others who guard me do not permit Lord Spane into my private rooms. If he wishes to see me, he may make an appointment through Cummings like everyone else.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the Weapon said.
The murderous look Richmont passed her made her tremble, but she walked down the corridor with back straight and chin held high. It was only a small act of defiance, but she had to show her cousin he did not have complete power over her. Now that she knew his true nature, she would have to find a way to protect herself, and Zachary and her family, too. But how could one shield oneself from lies that would spread faster than wildfire? He even had her doubting her own parentage. Could there be some truth to the story about the minstrel? The idea of her mother straying . . . No, inconceivable. Not her conservative, conscientious mother who had loved her husband.
As Estora entered Zachary’s dressing room, she had to put aside her worries for there was another task before her this night. She led the way into his bedchamber to perform her duty as his wife.
RITUAL AND WAKENING

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