Troubled Waters (39 page)

Zoe laughed softly. “I did not realize you disliked her as much as I do.”

“Even more,” he said with a certain grimness. “And I say that without even knowing how deep your animosity runs.”

“Then if not Alys, who?”

“If I knew that, I would have brought the scoundrel to justice and you would not have had to flee the palace to ask me uncomfortable questions.”

She smiled a little and dropped back into the chair. “I am glad you realize I have more than one question.”

“I was sure you would. I am nerving myself for the possibility that each one is worse than the last.”

“That may very well be,” she said. “My second question is: How many people know who Josetta’s father is?”

Staring at her, Darien was so completely silent for so long that she could hear the occasional bright
pop
of the fire over the continuous low ruffle of flame. Finally, to prod him into speaking, she added, “I presume
you
know?”

“Why would you have any reason to suspect it is not Vernon?”

“The man has four wives and three children,” she said. “It takes no great leap of imagination to deduce that he either has no desire for women—or little ability with them.”

“Even so—I’m not sure why you think—”

She extended her right hand, fingers spread, and turned it this way and that as if examining it for blemishes. She was still cold; her rings were loose around her icy fingers. “Something I learned once I became prime of Lalindar,” she said in a conversational voice. “Something perhaps Christara would have told me if she had had a chance to prepare me for my role.” She leaned forward suddenly and placed her hand across his arm where it lay, tense and immobile, on the armrest of his chair. Through his silk and wool she could feel his
hunti
bones and his
coru
pulse. He did not move so much as an inch. “I can touch every man and woman in the city—
every
man and woman—and tell you something about their blood. I can identify them. I can sort them into families.”

She tightened her fingers around his wrist. Even if she hadn’t been able to tell it by the expression on his face, his clamoring heartbeat would have told her he was horrified. “Josetta came to my room last night and took my hand,” Zoe said, her voice almost a whisper. “And I knew instantly that she was Navarr Ardelay’s daughter.”

“Ahhhhhhhhh—” he breathed, and dropped his head heavily against the back of his chair. Otherwise, he sat unmoving; he did not try to pull his hand away. “I knew that was how Christara had learned the truth, but it had not even occurred to me that you—” He seemed unable to finish.

She was relieved that he did not try to deny it. She did not blame him—much—for trying to conceal the truth from her, but she would have been bitterly disappointed if he had kept trying to pretend at this juncture. “I have made some strange discoveries since I became prime,” she said. “I hope this one is the most astonishing—but I entertain fears that something worse will reveal itself at a not too distant date.”

He opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on her again. “And do you, like Christara, now despise Navarr for what you have learned about his royal infidelity?”

“A little,” she admitted. She released him and settled back against the cushions of her chair. “I am furious with him for so many reasons, and more reasons accrue almost every day! He lied to me on so many fronts, on matters great and petty, that I am beginning to think I did not know him at all. I can understand why he did not want to discuss with me his liaison with the king’s wife and the child it produced—but I am not sure how quickly I will be able to forgive him for thinking it was acceptable to have such a liaison in the first place.”

“Which I think is exactly where Christara came in,” Darien murmured. “And she did
not
forgive him. She destroyed him. But you do not have that option.”

“If he was alive, I might have abandoned him at this point, tired of one too many betrayals,” she said. “But I do not have that luxury now. I must understand him and accept him, or lose even my memories of him. And I am not prepared to do that—not now. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.”

“I do not think,” Darien said, “you should consider it a weakness if you still love him. But I am sorry you had to learn something about your father so greatly to his discredit.”

“Which brings me again to the question you have not answered,” Zoe said. “How many people know the truth?”

He hesitated a moment, as if thinking even now he might avoid answering her, and then shrugged and capitulated. “It might be no more than five still living,” he said. “The king, Seterre, Elidon, me—and now you.”

“It is obvious why the king and Seterre know,” she said. “But I am not certain why you were included in the knowledge. Or even Elidon.”

He rubbed a fist against his forehead, as though his head hurt. She wouldn’t be surprised if it did; she wouldn’t even be sorry. “It’s complicated,” he said.

“Let me tell you what I have surmised,” she said. “At some point—whether during his first marriage or his second—the king comes to realize that
he
is the one who is sterile, not his brides. But he wants children—he wants his subjects to perceive him as a virile, vital man. So he enlists the aid of a trusted advisor to act as his substitute in the marriage bed. It would not have been difficult to gain my father’s consent to such a project. Quickly enough, the queen becomes pregnant. Elidon’s status as barren wife is cemented, while Seterre and Vernon celebrate their fertility. Josetta is born and all seems well. Until Christara discovers the truth and threatens to publish it. The king appeases her by banishing Navarr.”

“That outline is generally correct,” Darien replied.

“But it doesn’t make
sense
,” Zoe said. “If the king was complicit in the affair, he would have found a way to protect my father. He would have found a way to silence Christara. If nothing else, by telling her the truth!”

He eyed her soberly. “What you don’t realize is that the truth would not have mattered to Christara. Navarr Ardelay had been unfaithful to her daughter—one last time—and her daughter was dead. She could not forgive that, and the urgent necessity behind the infidelity was lost on her. The queen needed a lover to produce a child? Very well, there were any number of men in the city who could have fulfilled that role, men who were
not
married to Alieta Lalindar. Christara was filled with spite and rage, and she was determined to bring Navarr down. She began to criticize him publicly and privately—she opposed his every political proposal, she cast doubt on his character. But it wasn’t until she began whispering of treason that the king was forced to act.”

Zoe stared at him. “
Treason?
My
father
?”

He nodded. “The king’s only child was in fact Navarr Ardelay’s daughter. What if he made a bid for power? Tried to depose the king, set himself up as regent? It wasn’t so far-fetched. At first, Christara whispered these accusations only to Vernon and Elidon. But as her whispers grew louder—and she threatened to reveal the truth about Josetta to the rest of the court—Vernon finally had no choice but to send Navarr away.”

“I’m surprised no one thought my father would strike back by revealing the truth about Josetta anyway.”

“It was a risk,” Darien admitted. “But everyone knows a discredited man is liable to lie, and Seterre had no incentive to corroborate him. No, it seemed safe enough to banish him, despite the great service he had rendered his king.”

Zoe drew a long breath. She felt as if her mind had been shattered into fragments that would not be reassembled anytime soon, and once they were, the images in her head would bear little relation to the ones she had carried with her since childhood. Everything was changed; every
one
was changed.

“Given all the trouble it caused him to sire Josetta,” she said, “why would the king go through it all again to give Alys a child? And then Romelle?”

The look on his face was almost comically alarmed. “Have you made any discoveries regarding Corene and Natalie?” he demanded.

“No,” she said, and was annoyed to see him relax as if he had been reprieved from death. “But I cannot imagine that
they
are Vernon’s any more than Josetta is. So, after all the trouble surrounding my father’s disgrace, why did the king again take the risk of finding lovers for his wives?”

“That was Elidon’s influence, I think,” Darien replied. “She didn’t like the idea that Seterre would be the only queen to bear an heir. She also didn’t like the thought that Navarr might tell his brother the truth, and Nelson would try to force concessions for the Ardelays. Elidon has always been very interested in maintaining a balance of power, and she did not want Seterre—or the Ardelays—to wield too much.”

“It still surprises me that Elidon was included in this conversation at all.”

“Elidon has always been the king’s closest confidante,” Darien replied. “I think it is she who urged him to share his queens with proxies in the first place.”

“Did she also pick the proxies?” Zoe asked. “Who were the others? Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

Again he was silent a moment, as if he wanted to disclaim any knowledge, and then he made a tiny gesture of surrender. “In fact, I am not certain, but I can tell you the likeliest candidates,” he said. “I have always thought Wald Dochenza might be Corene’s father. He was much at court during that time, and clearly infatuated with Alys. Shortly after Corene was born, the Dochenzas entered a period of unparalleled prosperity. The king extended for another hundred years their property rights to a stretch of land where they mine their compressed gas—which has made the Dochenzas extraordinarily wealthy.”

If Wald had been Alys’s lover, it explained why the queen had so much hatred for poor Gildis Fairley, whose only crime had been a rumored liaison with the Dochenza man. But at the moment, Zoe had little interest in Alys or sympathy for her victims. She could think only of her father and the injustice done to him. She could not keep the bitter tone from her voice when she said, “So
this
time, the man who is presumed to have bedded the queen is considered to have rendered a valuable service to the crown,” Zoe said. “
This
time his family is rewarded, not banished.”

“It is very unfair, I know. If it mollifies you at all, the king was very grateful to your father until Christara took a hand.”

She shook her head, as if to say it didn’t matter, though it did. “Who is Wald Dochenza?” she asked. “Kayle’s son?”

“His nephew. A dreamy young romantic who didn’t realize that Alys would discard him once she had achieved her purpose.”

“I don’t think I’ve met him in Chialto.”

“Perhaps not. He comes to the city only rarely. Alys claims she never sees him, but, of course, I always assume everything she says is a lie, so who knows?”

“What about Princess Natalie?” Zoe asked. “Who is
her
father?”

“I don’t even have a good guess for her,” Darien said. “But I have always thought it was a man picked out by Taro Frothen. If you want to make sure someone conceives a child with a minimum of fuss, you could hardly do better than ask the
torz
prime to find her the right partner.”

“It makes sense,” Zoe said. “Since Seterre is
hunti
and my father and Alys are
sweela
—this would be a very good time to bring
elay
and
torz
men into the mix.”

“Yes, I have always thought that was Elidon’s reasoning,” he replied. “If she indeed had a say in determining the queens’ lovers. I find it hard to believe Alys, at least, would bed any man on Elidon’s recommendation. In fact, I heard whispers that Alys enjoyed her extramarital relations a little
too
much, not confining herself to one man.”

“Then no one can be certain Wald Dochenza is truly Corene’s father.”

Darien studied her a moment in silence. “I beg you will not take it upon yourself to discover the truth one way or another. As Corene cannot possibly be your father’s child—and neither can Natalie—I do not see that it can matter to you at all.”

She almost smiled. “I have an affinity for blood, which gives me an interest in bloodlines,” she said. “But Corene is even less open to casual contact than Josetta, so I do not imagine she will be allowing me to touch her hand anytime soon. And I have no interest in holding Natalie, who is always throwing a tantrum.”

“I wish I could say that put me at ease.”

Now she did laugh, very slightly. She was feeling so crushed it was hard to allow herself to expand to humor. “One thing I still don’t understand,” she said. “Why are
you
among the ones who knows the truth about Josetta?”

“Because my father knew,” he said wearily. “He helped set up the assignations in the palace. Your father would arrive on the pretext of visiting mine.” He shrugged. “I was a young idealist then—barely eighteen—and I believed that our secret work was essential to the preservation of the crown. Who knows? Maybe it was. But I would not be so eager to pursue such activities now.”

“Another thing surprises me, at least a little,” she said. “Seterre does not behave oddly around me at all. Oh, she pretends to want to be my friend, and she brings up my father’s name now and then, but she does not seem—
self-conscious
, I suppose I mean. If
I
was trying to make idle conversation with my former lover’s daughter, I think I would be nervous and strange. And if I had truly loved him, I would be affectionate and emotional. But that is not the sense I get from her at all.”

“As to that—” He hesitated, then spread his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “As to that, it is possible she does not know that Navarr Ardelay was the man in her bed,” he said.

“But surely—”

“My father said that Navarr was brought to her in a great deal of stealth and that Elidon impressed on both of them the value of secrecy. He said that Seterre played along, agreeing to wear a blindfold and never ask her lover’s name, but—well—no one was in the room with them when they . . . when they carried out their task.” He risked a quick look at her; she was surprised to see him blushing, embarrassed by the specifics of the conversation. “I don’t know if Navarr was the kind of man who would enter into the spirit of such intrigue—”