Cornerstone (3 page)

“
Well,” Jessa said as she worked, “The girls down at the linen shop were saying how romantic it is. Little girls playing near the square seemed to be playing a game of 'princess in the tower,' and trying to get the little boys to be their princes, come to rescue them.”

Emariya groaned, “Romantic, to have no choice in whom to marry?” Perhaps they should go marry him instead then, and let her stay happily at Warren's Rest.

“
Riya, those girls will be lucky if they are given the chance to marry, and even luckier still if they do marry and their husbands live long enough to get them with child,” Jessa chided. “Your brother is sending a lot of the boys to Thandrel's Fjord to try and hold off Sheas. So yes,” she insisted, “To them, the idea of marrying is romantic, no matter the circumstances. And you get a real prince; they will be lucky if they get a blacksmith, or a carpenter, instead of a field hand.”

“
Yes, of course. I didn't think,” she could always count on Jessa's honesty. A tear threatened to escape. “I'm not ready.”

“
You could say no.” Jessa's fingers continued their unending battle with Emariya's hair, as Mairi had once done with Lady Valencia.

“
Reeve would be furious.”

“
Perhaps, but do you really think he wants to see you go? You are the only family he has left.”

Emariya grew quiet. Once she would have believed that her brother did not want her to go. Lately, though, they had grown apart.

Her father was supposed to help her choose a suitable husband. She knew without a doubt her father would have wanted her to marry for love. If only he were here. Longing for her father tingled at the back of her eyes, causing more tears to make their way down her cheeks. But what of her love for the people of Eltar? They were counting on her. Could she marry to save them; was that reason enough? She wasn't sure. If she left for Thalmas before her father returned, she might never see him again.

“
What else do they say?”

“
Norval says he hears from the traders that come through that the prince is very dashing. Supposedly, he has the most piercing gray eyes you will ever see. They say that many a fair maiden has attempted to catch his eye, but to no avail. He would scarcely give them even the briefest glance. But…” She hesitated.

“
Go on,” said Emariya, “What else did they say?” Norval was a distributor. He helped see to it that the goods coming in and out made it to where they should.

Emariya tried not to wince as Jessa attacked a rogue lock of her hair with the brush. Jessa continued, “Well, they say he can be rash. He threw a petitioner out of court once who told him he would be an embarrassment to his father.”

“
Does King Dellas no longer rule?” Emariya watched Jessa in the mirror. It always amazed her how the girl never failed to tame the chaos swirling around outside her head. If only she could work the same magic on the inside.

“
It is said to have something to do with his sight. I think he is losing it, and the loss of it is driving him mad. He is rarely seen in court any longer. His son sits in his stead.”

Although she'd never heard much regarding his son, Emariya was vaguely aware of tales concerning King Dellas Ahlen. He was said to be eccentric, but never unjust. Of course, the people of Eltar viewed any king as unjust. They believed no one man should be the law, that no one should be more than one voice in a conversation of many when the welfare of an entire people was at stake.

Given the whispers circulating that King Dellas had gone mad, and that Thalmas was now governed by Dellas's son, Torian, perhaps they were right. A country could suffer greatly under the rule of a single madman, without a Great Council to keep one’s fancies in order.

Emariya wondered of the fate of a land led by one so young. Torian and Emariya were of the same year and she was grateful that it had been her brother who had taken their father's place on the Great Council of Eltar. At seventeen, and having always had her father and brother to make decisions for her, she surely couldn't have been responsible for helping to make the decisions for her entire land. Not that she was sure her brother had been ready, either. He had been just sixteen at the time three years ago, when he had ascended to the Warrens’ seat at the head of the Great Council.

“
I suppose that's why here we govern with a Council that is not subject to the whims of a petulant boy. It keeps us fair.” As long as you considered it fair to request that a girl go off and marry a foreign prince, that is.

“
You could be a petulant girl, ruling with the petulant boy,” Jessa teased, finishing with Emariya's hair and going to the wardrobe to find her a gown. With all of the Council in attendance, dinner would be a formal affair.

The friends laughed, and for a moment one could have believed they were carefree girls. “Do you remember when we used to lie under the covers, hiding from the thunder, talking about the husbands we would have to distract ourselves from the storms?” Emariya asked.

Emariya would have liked to hide under the covers until the Council left. Maybe if she hid until she was an old maid, the prince would marry someone else instead.

“
Why, of course; how could I ever forget? You pretended you were going to marry a handsome prince from some far away kingdom no one had ever heard about, instead of just a Council-born son. He was going to swoop in on his white horse, sweep you off your feet, then carry you away to his castle, where you'd live happily ever after,” Jessa said.

“
Yes, and you were going to marry his equally handsome brother, who would declare you as his one true love, and you and I would be sisters for real.” Turning, she gave Jessa a tight hug. “I suppose the little girls in the square really are no different from us—little girls playing princess and dreaming of better days.”

“
But it seems one of us may get her prince,” Jessa said. Emariya detected a hint of wistfulness in her handmaiden's voice.

“
I'm not so sure I want him, after all,” she said. There would be time to be serious and make decisions later, but right now Emariya was simply thankful for the company of her friend. When she was with Jessa, she didn't have to be the Lord's daughter, Lady of Warren's Rest. She could just be a girl.

They were interrupted by urgent footsteps coming down the corridor outside Emariya's chambers. The door began to shake in protest at the insistent pounding from the other side.

CHAPTER THREE

The Ones We Know The Best We Hurt The Most

“
Emariya!”

Oh no—Garith must have heard. Oh, Garith.
She should have been the one to tell him, but she just hadn't been ready. Emariya gave Jessa a slight nod of permission, slipping back into her role as a Lady.

Emariya took a seat across the room by the little window. The fading sunlight bathed her pale features in a warm glow as Jessa deftly slid the latch and opened the door.

“
You shouldn't be here,” Jessa scolded. “How will it look—and with the Councilors here?” Garith must have come the moment he had heard; his simple tan shirt and deep brown trousers were coated with the soot from his father's shop.

“
You think I care what's proper?” he asked, sparing a brief look for Jessa before locking his eyes on Emariya.

Emariya studied the hem of her gown intently, not wanting to look him in the eye while she decided what she should say.

She had always been aware of Garith's feelings for her. It was nearly impossible not to be. She did her best not to encourage them. Garith was one of her truest and dearest friends. He was the friend that every girl needs, the one who made her feel special, and pretty. The one who made her feel safe. And the one she had tried desperately to love back, only to find that she couldn’t. But even if she could have, it wouldn't have mattered. Garith was the son of the blacksmith at Warren's Rest. As such, their social standing was so vastly different that a match between them would never have been possible.

Garith's honey hair was a mess as usual, reminding Emariya of a dirty, yet charming, mop. Combined with his slightly elongated nose, his hair gave him a jester-like appearance. It fit him well. The tiniest bit of fuzz had started to grow on his chin and upper lip. Even though he was starting to look less of a boy and more of a man to Emariya, to her he would always be the boy who had ridden a pudgy black pony with her during their adventures around the hills outside the estate walls.

As they got older, their adventures had come less often, as he had been expected to help his father at the shop. Still, their easy friendship had never ceased. Emariya's father tolerated her choice of friends, but since Oren's disappearance, Reeve was always reminding her that she had a certain level of dignity to maintain, which did not include the acquaintance of the blacksmith’s boy.

Jessa was right, however. It just wouldn't do for her to allow a man other than her brother into her private chambers. “Jessa, I think Garith and I will take a walk—would you get my cloak, please?”

“
Of course, Milady.” She disappeared and then returned a moment later with Emariya's black satin cloak. The cloak’s half-sleeves, embroidered with a delicate gold border, allowed her arms to go free, and it cinched demurely at her slight waist. She left the soft black hood off her head, allowing it to rest gently beneath her hair.

Taking Garith's offered arm, she was happy to see that he'd at least calmed enough for his courtesies to return. “Shall we walk?”

“
As you wish, Milady. Or is it 'Your Highness', now?”

“
It's just 'Riya', as its always been.”

“
Emariya,” he stopped and turned to look at her. “You've never been 'just Riya'. And now everything has changed.” His eyes pleaded with her, begging her to tell him he was wrong.

“
Nothing has been decided. I haven't agreed to anything yet.” She began to walk again, giving him no choice but to follow. She was overwhelmed as it was, with the decision looming ahead of her; Garith wasn't helping. She headed towards the little garden she kept near the wall. While the fertile fields outside the walls were used to plant food, her tiny personal garden was filled with aromatic herbs and flowers. “Not that I am sure I even have a choice. Reeve and the Councilors seemed to think I would be thrilled.” Mimicking Old Man Bosch, she said, “To think! A Queen!”

“
All hail Queen Emariya Ahlen,” Garith said with mock formality, bowing.

She punched him in the arm. “Stop!”

“
Now, now, is that very queen-like behavior?” They both laughed, unable to help themselves.

She grinned at him; this was exactly what she'd needed. Her friend, her best friend, making her laugh. “See, I told you nothing’s changed.”

“
Will you?”

“
Will I what—change?”

“
Marry him.” Garith stopped in front of her, watching her closely as he waited for a response. So much for making her laugh.

Stepping around him to continue walking, Emariya wouldn't make light of his worries by giving him anything other than a serious response. Finally, she said, “I don't know. I don't want to.”

“
Then don't. Your brother isn't your true guardian, as long as your father might be alive. You could say no.”

“
He'd be furious!” Of this Emariya had no doubt.

“
Yeah,” Garith shrugged. Apparently he didn't doubt it, either, but he wasn't the one who would have to live with him.

They had come to the edge of the garden. A few months before, it had been lush and green. Now, the edge of the garden was guarded by the last of the autumn wildflowers, and a few remaining herbs were persistently holding on through the cooler temperatures. Soon they would be hidden beneath a blanket of snow, where they would sleep until spring.

“
What do you think Thalmas is like?” she asked.

“
I don't know; you've traveled farther than I have. Does all of Eltar look like Warren's Rest?” Garith answered her.

“
Well, not really. It's all similar, but it has its differences, too. There is the old harbor at the Feltons’ estate. It’s very windy there, bordered by cliffs that drop to the sea. Plus, some of the estates have large herds of cattle, as well, where we have just a few for milk. We don't all plant the same harvests, either.”

As the daughter of the head of the Great Council, Emariya had been expected to learn the history of the land, but she had never actually experienced anything outside of Eltar. It was a strange thought to think that she might soon see a foreign land. From her lessons, she knew that The Three Corners had once been a united land.

Even though The Split had happened before the memories of anyone left alive, the stories had been passed down. The stories differed, depending who told them. Mothers, trying to teach their children not to fight amongst themselves, often told their children that it had been three warring brothers. Fathers traditionally told their sons that it had been over a woman, and that no woman was worth a war. The priests told everyone who would listen that it was the work of The Three, to teach man humility. It was possible that no one knew what had caused The Split. But everyone had heard at least one theory. Emariya was of a mind to believe the mothers were probably right. She had seen how boys could fight over the silliest things.