The Singer's Crown (20 page)

Brianna shrugged, still not looking at him as if she utterly refused his presence.

“Perhaps you would meet me in the garden after court, my lady? I shall bring a chaperone so you need not fear.” So saying, he sat down heavily in his throne. Brianna turned and walked from the room. Once the door was shut, the duchess returned to her chair.

“I am afraid you did not see her at her best, Your Majesty; she has not been well.”

“I look forward to a more private reunion with my cousin,” he murmured, scanning the room as if in thought. “I think I will ask my lord Fionvar duNormand to serve as chaperone. He doesn't even like me, so he will be an apt guardian of the lady's honor.” His eyes flared briefly to life at this, meeting Fionvar's astonished gaze.

She nodded. “I believe that is all the business of today. I shall have supper laid out in your chambers before your rendezvous.” She rose and the audience followed suit, bowing the king out of his throne room. “If my lord Fionvar would attend the king?”

Fionvar gave a brief, graceful bow and trailed after the servants toward the king's chamber. A pair of maids arrived from the other direction, bearing food-laden trays, and began to fuss over the table. With a weary sigh, Kattanan loosed the cape from his shoulders and fell into a chair. Setting a goblet at his elbow, the maid curtsied, flashed a smile at Fionvar, and, with her companion, left the pair alone. Fionvar stood by the door, wearing a puzzled frown. The young man opposite shrank back into his chair, sipping from the goblet. “Don't look at me like that,” he whispered. “I planned none of this.”

The frown deepened. “I know, Your Majesty.”

The singer winced. “I'm not a king, please don't address me as one. I'm not even—I don't know what I am.”

“To these people you are the king, or will be, once the battles are fought.”

“In name only, and not even a name I recognize.” He picked at a piece of bread. “My grandmother is the true ruler.”

“The duchess knows what she is about; she will do what's best for Lochalyn. I may be willing to put the kingdom in her hands, even if it must be through you.”

“And Brianna?” Kattanan looked at him then. “Would you put her in my hands?”

“It is against my conscience to condone your marrying anyone, but the choice is not mine.” He crossed his arms.

“I'm not sure it's mine, either. Clearly she has already chosen. The duchess told me she is with child.” He watched for some surprise, but Fionvar only gave him a curious look.

“Would you refuse her because of that?”

“I have always wished for children, knowing that I could never have them, and it could ease many doubts if the duchess gave out that the child was mine.”

Fionvar snorted. “I don't like building a kingdom on lies, however useful they might be.”

“Is that the reason?”

“No lady should have to submit to a marriage of convenience, a marriage that denies her choice and does not even leave her with a proper husband, especially when—” He broke off and turned back to Kattanan. “I have said too much, Majesty. I am not here to insult you.”

“It is hard to see the woman you love offered to another man.”

Fionvar did start at that. “I think I misunderstand you.”

Kattanan took a deep breath and plunged in. “When the lady was brought in, everyone was surprised by her appearance. She wished that to be my first impression of her.” Fionvar's eyes narrowed. “So, she doesn't want to marry me but won't refuse me outright. However, she's wearing a marriage bracelet already—it's under her chemise, so I assume the union is not formal, but I caught a glimpse during court. I believe the band was made from the hair of a violin bow.”

“If you saw all this, why ask me to be your chaperone? Perhaps you brought me here to see how long I would suffer your courting my lady?”

“Great Goddess, no! I couldn't deny her in court, so I had to agree to see her. In front of any other witness, she would go on as she was today and only make her family even more upset. I am sure you want to spend more time together.” His hands were clasped before him, the strange new voice pleading.

“My loyalty cannot be bought, neither can hers.”

“That's not it.” He faltered and looked away. “I already have enough enemies here, and outside. I don't want her to hate me, too.”

Fionvar looked down at the singer's bowed head. “I don't hate you. All I know of you is that you are willing to live this lie, that you are not who I was led to believe, and that you have been offered the one thing I want more than anything in this world, yet say you will turn it down. I don't understand you, I'm not sure I can trust you, but I do not hate you.”

“Thank you for that.” Kattanan glanced sidelong up at him. “Are you hungry? I don't feel much like eating.”

“I ate on the ride over. Besides”—he nodded toward the window—“the lady is waiting.”

Kattanan looked out into the garden, a small patch of hedges and trees between the manor and the forest. On a bench nearly concealed by branches, Brianna sat with a maidservant. She was reading from a small volume, swatting at the maid's hands when she made as if to braid the lady's hair.

“She really isn't like that,” Fionvar commented.

“Well, let's go find out.” Kattanan straightened his tunic and let Fionvar lead the way out to the garden. As they approached, Brianna shoved the book under the bench and jumped up. She gasped a little, meeting Fionvar's gaze, but quickly folded into an awkward curtsy. The maid rolled her eyes and eagerly left them alone.

“My lady,” Kattanan said, bowing his head, “I think my lord Fionvar has some things to say. I will await your leisure.” He turned away and crossed to the other side of the little pond. Fionvar took her arm as if to lead her over, then ducked behind a hedge, dropping them both to their knees. He buried his fingers in her hair and kissed her. Brianna pulled back.

“What are you doing? With the king right there!”

“He knows, Brie. He saw the bracelet.”

“Oh, no. I thought it strange that he chose you. So we are discovered.” She sat back on her heels.

“Discovered, but not revealed.” He stroked her cheek and smiled.

“It would better serve his interests to be rid of you. Isn't that why we've been so careful?”

“He said he does not want to make an enemy of you.”

She glanced at Kattanan. “One would think I was already against him, from his expression earlier. I've been greeted in many ways—especially in this outfit—but never before with anything so close to terror. Do I look so fearsome as that?”

He laughed. “Almost. If this were our first meeting, I would have refused you myself.”

“If this were our first meeting,” she murmured in his ear, “we would not be kissing in the bushes discussing my betrothed. Does he really think I could hate him?”

“He thinks I already do, even before he met you.”

“You don't, do you?”

Fionvar tilted his head to look at her. “Why the concern?”

“He just seems so sad and lonely.”

“You are attracted to him.”

“I am drawn to any lost creature in need of comfort,” she said, watching the figure of the king. Eyes wide, she turned back to her lover. “Fion! You're jealous! I hardly know him.”

“It's just that I can find so many reasons why you should marry him instead of me.” He stared down at his tanned, callused hand enfolding hers so pale and smooth.

“Fion, my heart's desire, I love you, and there is no other on earth or in the stars who could take your place in my life.” She kissed his forehead, then his lips.

“Let's run away, right now. I've a horse in the stables, we could—”

“We could leave all our responsibilities and a cause we have both struggled for that is on the verge of fulfillment. I promise you we will find a way to be together. If this king is to be trusted, he may even help us.” Brianna stood and shook out her garments. “We shouldn't leave the king waiting.”

“Very well, then,” Fionvar grumbled, “but not too much comforting.”

Kattanan looked up at their approach, then stood. “My lady.”

“My lord King,” she returned, with a small curtsy, “I fear I have presented myself in a way less than honest. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Only if you don't serve me mud pies, my lady.”

Brianna shouted with laughter. “You remember!” Fionvar glowered until she squeezed his hand and explained. “Rhys was my favorite cousin; we used to play together in the palace gardens. I am the older by three years, though, and I admit I abused my position. Perhaps two months before the Usurper, I made mud pies, and convinced him they were good to eat. If I'd known—” She fell silent as Kattanan looked away. “I'm sorry, Your Majesty.”

“Please don't call me that,” he said with unusual force. “I feel many things, but majestic has never been one of them.”

“Well, what, then?”

“‘Kattanan.' It's what I'm used to.”

“As you wish.” Her brow furrowed, and Fionvar again sought her hand. “Shall we walk, or would you rather sit?”

“Oh, no, I have had enough of sitting.”

“You did seem…uncomfortable.” The three headed for a trail into the woods.

“It isn't right. I don't know what to do up there.”

“I'm sure it will feel right someday. Strello Gamel wrote that we each know all we need to, but that the knowledge lies silent until most needed.”

“A little training never hurt, though,” Fionvar commented. “It's hard for people to put their faith in a leader whose knowledge still lies silent.”

“Fion, there's no need for that,” Brianna said.

“He's right, my lady. I have no business here, and we are not the only ones who think so.” Kattanan sighed.

“Unless you assert yourself as king, you never will. We defer to the duchess because she clearly intends action on behalf her people.” Fionvar moved a bit ahead and looked back over his shoulder, meeting Kattanan's gaze until the singer looked away.

“I had no idea you idolized my grandmother,” Brianna snapped, stopping in the path.

“At least she takes action when she sees that something needs doing. I respect that.” His dark eyes still searched Kattanan. “She is an old woman, though, and I fear what will happen when she dies.”

Brianna scowled, taking another step toward him. “Why are you bringing this up now? Kattanan has already had a difficult day, the last thing he needs is you badgering him.”

Fionvar leaned over to her, whispering, “All he has to do is tell me to stop. That is the least of his powers as a king.” She continued to glare. “Trust me, please.”

“Leave it!” Brianna hissed. “There is a time and a place, and now is neither.” She turned back to Kattanan with a smile. “My lord is infamous for speaking his mind, with utter disregard for the feelings of others.” When he did not respond, she brushed his arm and pointed. “This manor was the refuge of an ancient order of warrior-priestesses—the Sisters of the Sword. There's an old temple this way. Fionvar's sister and some others have revived the order.”

Falling in step, Kattanan nodded vaguely. Fionvar brought up the rear, examining the young man intently. Brianna chattered on and finally brought them to the overgrown ruin. At this, Kattanan took an interest, brushing aside the vines to touch the inscriptions. “Can we go in? Is it safe?”

“Well, I suppose so. The door is over here.” The mound rose not much taller than Fionvar, but its foundation looked to be somewhere farther below. Small trees sprouted from the roof, their roots gripping the ancient stone. Squirrels, crying out indignantly, scattered to the treetops. A tangle of leaves encroached on the door from all sides. Brianna grabbed hold and started clearing the path, but Fionvar laid a hand on hers. “I'll do it.”

“I am perfectly capable—”

“You are more than capable, but I'm still in my old riding garb.”

“As if my dress were so much to look at.” She moved back and watched as he pulled the vines away, revealing a low arch. He squinted, then shrugged, and stooped through. A loud crash followed, and the pair outside stuck their heads in to see Fionvar seated on a floor some four feet lower than the outside ground.

“Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride, love.” He picked himself up and looked back at the edge he had tumbled over. “Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounded.” He lifted Brianna down beside him and offered a hand to Kattanan, who refused it to scramble in on his own. Kattanan picked his way to the wall and ran his fingers over it. Standing on the altar, Fionvar cleared the roots that cluttered the Strellezza, shedding the afternoon sun on the crumbling inscriptions. While Kattanan frowned over them, Brianna pulled Fionvar into an alcove, whispering, “Where is your head today? He may be an orphaned singer to you, but he is both my king and my cousin.”

“And a pawn to whoever asks it. I try to reserve judgment until I know someone, but I can't respect him as anything but a singer.”

“You were as eager as the rest of us to find the rightful king, in spite of the fact I am to marry him; now that we've found him, you can't even be civil.”

“Yes, I wanted to find the king, but I didn't expect him to be like this.”

“You knew what was done to him, just what did you expect? I thought you were different, that you helped people rather than just throwing them aside when they got hurt. What happened to patience and compassion?”

“Patience? If the duchess has her way, we go to war in less than a month. I know these soldiers; right now they believe in their cause. How long will that last when they see that their king does not believe? That he is scared to wear his own crown? They might be better off with Thorgir; he's a tyrant, but at least he cares!”