Closer to the Heart (24 page)

She was trying not to show her exasperation. It was one thing to appear to be harmless and even a little naïve in order to make others of the Court underestimate her; it was quite another when things like
this
happened. It made her long to pull the concealed poniard out of her bodice, stick it under the right young idiot's chin, and hiss
“This is the third time you've asked me. No means no!”
before slipping it back into concealment before anyone else noticed she'd threatened him.

But of course, she couldn't do that. That would be . . . probably disastrous. Someone would notice, because he'd probably shriek and wet himself. Heralds didn't do that sort of thing. Not even when provoked. And oh, how provoked she had been, tonight!

And these same young idiots weren't the least interested in me—in fact, they snubbed me entirely—back when I was just plain Amily, Nikolas's poor crippled daughter.
That rankled, actually. Not that she would have taken them up on whatever offer they'd made back then, or whatever condescending notice they'd given her. But it rankled that
now
they were all over her like flies on a honeycake, when
then,
she'd been something they literally did not see.

:And now, you are King's Own Amily and single, as far as they are aware, and the next best thing to marrying the King's daughter, if he had one, to get the ear of the King. Of course they're taking Mags' absence as the opportunity to try and work their wiles on you. When are they going to get another chance?:
Rolan said, sounding rather too amused for her liking right now.
:Like it or not, you are a honeycake. No one takes you seriously as a guard, and this looks like a good chance to draw you off and try and test the waters. You can't blame them for trying.:

Well, there Rolan was wrong. She
could
blame them for trying. They should know better, all of them. They all knew what the duties of the King's Own were! And if they thought that a Herald of any stripe could be lured away from those duties, they were idiots!

:And mind your temper,:
he added, which . . . even though he was right, made things worse for a moment, as her temper flared dangerously high, making her cheeks flush and her eyes narrow—which the damn fool took for
his
work, making her blush and simper. His self-satisfied little smirk nearly pushed her over the edge.

And then, finally, her wits woke up and she smiled sweetly at the young fool. “Besides,” she said, in dulcet tones, “I'm not stupid, my lord. No one who knows all about your special little pet at Mistress Bellamy's Crescent Moon is going to have a scrap of illusion that you are interested in
her,
and not the
potential access to the King that she represents.” She fluttered her eyelashes as he blanched. “Best that you retire gracefully, and drown your sorrows in her arms tonight. Do give Rosemiel my best, will you? I will say that at least you have exquisite taste. She's flawless.”

He got even whiter, if that was possible, bowed stiffly, and made a hasty retreat.

The satisfaction she felt was tempered . . . a very little . . . by a slight guilt that she had taken a lot of pleasure in humiliating a young man who had himself humiliated her more than once.

:An interesting ploy. If you are trying to seem harmless and naïve, why did you do that, may I ask?:

There didn't seem to be any hint of accusation in Rolan's Mindvoice, so she answered him quite as seriously and unemotionally as she could.
:Politically, he's a nonentity. His father, however, is quite a different kettle of fish. He's on the Greater Council. I killed two birds with one stone. I made it very clear to the young fool that I know far more than he dreams about his doings, and he'll make it clear to his father, without revealing his secret infatuation with a courtesan, that there's no point in dangling any sort of bait in my direction because I won't bite. He absolutely
cannot
tell his father about his kept woman, so only
he
will be aware that I am not as harmless or simple as I seem. The old man will be left wondering about me, but one thing he will be sure of, and that is I cannot be seduced either by his son's handsome face or the father's wealth. With the implication, of course, that I might be female, but I cannot be bribed any more than a male Herald can be.:

:Nicely done,:
said Rolan, and he went back to lurking in the back of her mind.

“Thank you, Soren,” Kyril said, just loudly enough to let her know that his private conversation was over. “That was
most entertaining.” Soren chuckled, and bowed, and rejoined the rest of the crowd.

“I don't think we'll extract anything more of any use out of the Court tonight, Amily,” the King said quietly. “Shall we retire?”

“Certainly, my lord King,” Amily replied obediently, and followed him to the door in the Great Hall that led to the passage to the Royal Suite. As she opened the door for him, the passage stretching before them was completely empty. Meant for servants, but generally used as much by members of the Royal Family, it was relatively narrow and very plain; wooden floor, plastered walls and ceiling.

As soon as the door closed behind him, leaving them in blessed, blessed silence, the King laughed quietly, and looked back over his shoulder at her. “Well done, by the way. Soren and I prolonged our discussion just to see how you'd handle him. There was silent applause from us by the way.”

Now she flushed, and not with anger. “Three times in one night is above enough, Highness. And that's not counting the last Court gathering. Or the one before that. Evidently . . . well I don't know what he thinks. Maybe that any young woman without a male attached to her in some way is fair game.”

“Soren thought you were going to take a dagger to him,” Kyril opined, as they reached the door to the King's Suite and waited for the Guard placed there to open it for him. She was awfully glad the King had decided to leave when he did. She was beginning to get a headache, and the next young fool who decided to try that game with her
might
have gotten a dagger.

“I was tempted,” she muttered, waiting for the King to enter and following behind him. The King's Suite was surprisingly subdued, given that it belonged to a reigning monarch. Everything was of the finest quality, but nothing was ostentatious.

When the door was closed, Kyril gestured to one of the
chairs next to the fire, where a light wine and two goblets were waiting. There was a very small fire in the fireplace, which seemed to be more for the ambience than the warmth. One of the chairs was already occupied by the Queen, who was embroidering; her hobby was to create book covers for gifts. Amily gratefully dropped down into the one next to the Queen. Standing for candlemarks at a time still made her leg ache.

“Nothing from Mags, I presume?” Kyril asked, as she poured him wine and handed it to him, then poured a goblet and offered it to the Queen, who waved it off with a smile, so she kept it for herself.

“Only that he's going to be in a Kirball game. Or games, he's not sure how many there will be.” She sighed a little, this time with exasperation. She knew she probably should not be exasperated, that there was probably a very good reason why he was getting embroiled in sport instead of . . . finding things out . . . but it seemed to
her
as if he was taking this mission as a sort of excursion, while she was here,
working.
Just because he was there with Lord Jorthun and Lady Keira, that did not mean he should be wasting his time on . . . a stupid game!

The King shook his head. “If he doesn't find a game, the game finds him, I swear. Well, I am sure that he has a very good reason for this. And I am sure that he's not doing this for any frivolous reason. After all, he can't possibly play on Dallen, and that will put him at real risk for being hurt. He wouldn't hazard that if there wasn't the possibility of exceptional reward. Despite the fact that people think the Collegium games are dangerous, I think being out there without Companions and Heralds is probably a lot more so.”

“Oh . . .” she said, chagrined that she hadn't thought of that herself. “No, of course he wouldn't.”
Idiot!
she scolded herself.
Of course he isn't doing this because he's a games-mad thistledown-brained bumbler who is doing this so he can relive his days as a Kirball champion. Especially since he
didn't particularly
like
being a champion, he just enjoyed the game itself.

“It's certainly a fine way to ingratiate himself with the locals, and make them want to come to him, after all,” Kyril pointed out. “Well, I have some word for you. Your father sent a message that he has visited the first of the armories on the list, and they have accounted for every weapon they sent out in the last year. He's moving on to the next. He said they seemed genuinely surprised that he should ask.” The King swirled the wine in his goblet and frowned.

An idea occurred to her. It might be a stupid idea, but it seemed to her that it was worth proposing. “Is it possible that the weapons are counterfeit?” Amily ventured. “How hard would that be to do? Would there be a reason anyone would want to?”

“Not especially difficult . . .” The King pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That is a good question. If I may think out loud for a moment . . . there might be several reasons why the weapons would have been counterfeited. The rebels themselves might have counterfeit them in order to embroil Menmellith with us and gain an advantage. There is always Karse, of course, who could have counterfeited the weapons
and
supplied them to the rebels in order to increase the chaos in Menmellith and cause
us
problems. I'll see about that right now.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and Amily knew that he was doing exactly that; having Mindspoken conversations with the Seneschal's Herald, the Lord Martial's Herald, and possibly some senior Heralds who were here at the Palace but had not yet been given field assignments. She bit her lip a little, wishing she could join in on those conversations. It was to her eternal regret that the only way she could, was second-hand, through Rolan. There were advantages, she supposed. If she ever lost control of her Gift, the only person who would be affected would be her. And no one could wake her up in the
middle of the night without
physically
coming to her door and knocking. But still, the disadvantages far outweighed the advantages. As far as she could tell, she was the
only
Monarch's Own never to have had Mindspeaking as a Gift.

Rolan laughed.
:You aren't missing anything. They're just deciding who is to go where. And apologizing to each other that none of them thought of the counterfeiting possibility.:

Amily glanced at the Queen, who kept on working on the goldwork embroidery she was doing, with a little smile on her face. It made Amily wish for something to do with her hands. But that probably wouldn't look proper, having a Herald fidgeting with something, as if she found the situation she was in dull and boring.
I guess she's used to this by now, watching her husband get a blank look on his face while he has a long conversation in his head. . . .

Her father had never done that, gone off into a Mindspeech conversation while she was in the same room. Then again, her father was not the King. Her father got brief respites from being the King's Own, even from being a Herald, in a way. Her father had probably been able to tell people, “Don't bother me, I'm spending a couple of candlemarks with my daughter, and she deserves all my attention.” The King was the King every candlemark of every day. There was no escaping the terrible burden of the crown.

The Queen, who obviously was more used to her husband's expressions than Amily was, spoke up into the quiet room. “Well, my love, who are we sending away, where, and will we need to recall anyone?” Amily guessed she must be able to tell when Kyril was done with his conversations better than she could.

“Herald Tarlin is already right on the Border with Karse, and his Gift is Farsight. He'll do some spying without having to put himself in danger of getting caught by Karsite demons. Herald Jacinth has relatives in Menmellith right on the border
with us and Karse; she's going to go visit them incognito and see if she can learn anything that way, either Karsites supplying the weapons, or the rebels counterfeiting them. I'm sending Herald Alissa with her, just in case she needs extraction.” Kyril picked up his wine and sipped it, looking as if he was relieved that all this had been sorted out so quickly. “All of them are either on or near the border now. We'll just need to send down replacements for Jacinth and Alissa. I left that to the others to work out.”

“I thought of another reason why the weapons might be counterfeit, Majesty,” she said, feeling as if she ought to be slapped for not thinking of it sooner. “What if they were poorly made weapons being passed off as good ones by an unscrupulous trader?”

“That is a very good point, but it is one we can settle immediately,” Kyril said, and chuckled. “We have samples in our hands. All we need to do is have one of our armorers test them to see if they are up to the purported source's standards. If a sword shatters at the first blow, we'll know that this was the simple reason, and we'll be able to call the Heralds back. It's better to get them on the job now and have to call them back, than wait and make a delay.”

When she knew the other Heralds and their capabilities better, Amily knew helping to decide who would be substituting for the Heralds pulled off their circuits would be her job, and the only way she would
learn
that would be to go speak with the others now. “I should go—” she said, standing. “Majesty—”

“Quite right. You should go consult with Ferrin, Lyle and Watsen. I'll let them know you're coming. Go to Ferrin's rooms, and they'll all meet you there.” The King smiled at her. “You can tell me the rest of what you had to say in the morning. I'm looking forward to hearing about your training and that odd fellow, Tuck. I have some requests of him I'd like you to make for me.”