Trusted (2 page)

Chapter Two

Sarea moved away from her elated brother and approached the social tent where those of wealth and status were milling about the king. Sarea moved to the outer edges of the crowd and observed her quarry for a moment. His hair was as black as soot, only much more glossy. It was pulled back in a warrior’s braid, the design high and intricate along the back of his head. Loose she had seen it brush the tops of his shoulders, but he rarely wore it loose in public.

He was a broad and powerful figure of a man, tan and tall…oh so much taller than Sarea. He was broad in the shoulders and his close cut clothing bragged incessantly of the fitness of his body. It was a little intimidating. Up against a man of such musculature and health she would be as a tiny little mote of dust on the grand table in the king’s dining hall.

Next she sized up her competition. She was a very beautiful woman. Tall and queenly in her bearing, her skin a perfect porcelain white, unlike Sarea’s tanned and slightly freckled complexion. She was a stunning golden blond, which was all the rage these days. Women washed the color from their hair using jinksom root in order to appear blonde. This was a stark contrast to Sarea’s own black hair, which was much like the king’s. But why would the king want a woman who looked exactly like him in coloring?

No. She would have to use other assets to gain his interest. She looked down at her straightly laced bodice, which held her moderately sized breasts up for modest display. The king’s present company had very large breasts and the tight lacing of her gown and low cut of her bodice made it seem as though they were about to spill forth any second.

Very well then, her breasts were definitely not an asset.

She had an otherwise shapely body, but again it was nothing in comparison to the king’s present consort.

So it would have to be the use of her wits that would maneuver her into place. And of those she had plenty, she was proud to say. Her father was a learned man as well as a warrior, and he had seen to it his daughter was just as savvy with the use of her brain as she was with keeping a house in comfort. This was rather contrary to standard belief, most men preferring to keep their women dull and uneducated…the thinking they would remain more satisfied that way. Learned women, it was thought, became unsatisfied with their position in life. It was best to keep them stupid and complacent.

She would bet a woman with those kinds of looks did not feel the need to exercise her brain in any real capacity.

Her course set in her mind, she came closer to the king. He was an incredibly handsome man. A dangerous thing, for handsome men thought the world owed them much. Dakon was a handsome man. But at only twenty yana in age, he still had much to learn and much life yet to live. Of course, she was only eighteen yana old, but she was far wiser than her brother she felt.

She moved to the punch bowl only a foot away from the king and poured herself a cup of punch. She wasn’t really thirsty, but everyone else had one and she needed to get closer to the king.

“I was telling Ando yesterday,” she heard his deep voice saying over the noise of the gathering, “that white corn is not an ideal crop in these climes. We are much better suited to oats and berries.”

“And sura cotton,” she heard herself piping in as loudly as she could without coming off abrasive.

The king turned to look at her and she felt the urge to blush. No, not the urge. She did flush under his curious regard. She had never noticed before, but he had purple eyes. The soft light purple of the hana flower.

“Sura cotton?” he asked. “Why would you say sura cotton? Does cotton not need warmer climes? We are more of a wet and fertile land.”

“Sura cotton can grow anywhere. True, warmer climes are best,” she said. “But our soil is so rich that it would make for abundant crops. And cotton is a high demand product. All of the neighboring regions require it and would pay a good price for it. Especially if they don’t have to pay for it to be trekked all the way up from the southlands. I have grown sura cotton in my garden and it does quite well.”

“There is a big difference between a little girl’s garden and massive fertile fields,” one of the Trusted said. All of the Trusted chuckled and the king joined them.

“This little girl also grows white corn and grim soy in her little garden,” she said, refusing to flush with embarrassment. It was true, her garden was small. But it was diversified and she could grow anything from anywhere. All it took was the right touch.

But when they heard her they quieted and the king arched a brow at her.

“Grim soy? No one can grow grim soy in this ground. Grim soy requires sand.”

“Grim soy requires a special touch,” she corrected. “Well drained fields. It doesn’t like to sit in water. But it can grow here. However, it is not the ideal crop and if you are looking for an ideal crop you choose sura cotton.”

“Is not cotton difficult to harvest?” the king persisted.

“No more or less than any crop. All you need is strong backs and willing fingers. You pick cotton just as you would pick corn or soy.”

“It would open up an entirely new market,” the king said. “No one grows sura cotton for leagues around.”

“There’s a reason for that,” one of the Trusted said. Jun, his name was. “Come now, are you going to let a little girl dictate our commerce?”

“That is twice now you’ve called me a little girl. Make it a third time and see what it gets you,” she said sharply.

“Ooo,” the rest of the Trusted cried in unison.

Jun did not back down. “What will you do to me,
little girl
?” he asked, turning to face her.

She did the first thing she thought of, although she knew it was foolish of her before the punch in her cup actually hit him in the face. But she could not recall the action once it had started. He stood in shock, pink punch running off his nose, as the rest of the Trusted howled with laughter.

She slammed her cup down on the table and turned her back on them, marching away, her temper boiling. She hated it when people didn’t take her seriously. Which was often because she was a female. People underestimated her all the time. Couple that with the infamous temper that ran hot in her family and things often spun out of her control.

Well, Dakon was just going to have to find another way to become Trusted. She had done her best.

“Wait! Stop right where you are young lady!”

That commanding voice clearly expected to be obeyed. Probably because he was the king. She wanted to ignore him, but one of the Trusted, Xan by name, grabbed her by the arm and drew her about to make her face the king.

“You’ve just attacked one of the king’s Trusted,” the king said as he came to tower over her.

She snorted out a laugh. “If a little dash of punch has hurt your man in any way other than his standing amongst his peers, then he doesn’t deserve to be Trusted.”

“And now she dictates who should be Trusted,” the king said, his tone astounded. “Next she will be calling herself queen!”

“I wouldn’t want to be queen if it meant being near such overbearing, pompous, arrogant—“

“Enough!” the king said, cutting off her tirade. “That is quite a bladed temper you have, my lady fire,” the king noted. He regarded her a moment. “I am curious how a little gir—woman,” he corrected himself quickly when she glared at him, “comes to be so knowledgable about crops and commerce.”

“My father taught me,” she said.

“Is your father a learned man?”

“And a knight of the Order,” she said proudly.

“What, both? This is rare indeed. Who is your father?”

Now Sarea began to worry. If she had offended, it could go badly for her father. She did not want him to get into trouble just because of Dakon’s ambition.

“I dare not say,” she said quietly. “You might take him to task for his daughter’s doing.”

“Hmm. What if I give you my word as a king it will not go ill for him?”

“I…I am afraid you may keep your word today, but remember him in future with a jaundiced eye.”

The king laughed. “By the Joyful One, you are quick of wit,” he marveled. “Very well, you need not tell us his name. But yours I must insist on.”

“Sarea,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Well, Sarea, come watch the games with me a while.”

“What, Garrick, you would reward her for what she’s done?” Jun exclaimed. He was mopping his face with a linen cloth someone had handed him.

“Hardly a reward to be in the company of you lot,” he said to the Trusted with a grin.

The king reached out and touched her, his hand cupping her elbow to guide her to his side. Sarea felt as though the world had just tumbled out from beneath her. The
king
was touching her! Sure, it was a little touch. A nothing touch. But still. She had never thought to ever be this close to him. Even when she had agreed to help Dakon, she had not thought she would succeed.

“But where will she sit?” the blonde who had been on the king’s arm whined.

“She will sit to my left, in Xan’s chair.”

Everyone grew quiet. The only woman allowed to sit to the king’s immediate left was his queen.

“No. Please. I would rather sit elsewhere. I do not want people to stare at me,” she said hurriedly.

The king seemed to think it over. “Dara, you will give up your seat a while,” he said to the blonde.

“I-I-I would gladly sit to your left,” the blonde said rapaciously. She had no such qualms about being stared at…or being treated like a queen.

“No. You will sit behind me for the time being Dara. But do not fret, pet,” he said, chucking her under the chin with a finger. “You will still sit beside me at table tonight.”

Dara did not look pleased, but then she smiled and was all cooing sweetness as she said, “Whatever makes my lord happy.”

And that was how Sarea got to sit to the king’s immediate right when the games commenced a short while later. She still felt as though she was on display and she nervously smoothed her hands down the simple vellan material of her gown. It was not the height of fashion as Dara’s gown was, it was from three yana past. But it was not threadbare or untidy looking. She still looked like a daughter of some wealth…if not a tremendous amount of it.

And her father was not tremendously wealthy. As a knight of the Order he was granted a stipend every misra, but her father’s wealth came from commerce. He was lord over some farmlands in the southernmost areas of the kingdom. The Vena city was in the northernmost region of the kingdom abutted against the Magefly Mountains. Those from the southlands were often looked upon as ‘less’ in the eyes of the wealthy. Which Sarea had always found odd since the southlands tended to be more prosperous than the rocky northlands.

Sarea sat gingerly on the seat to the king’s right, perched as if to fly away. Garrick, the king, watched her with amusement in his eyes. He could not make her out. She leapt into conversation with the king, yet when given a place of honor beside him she looked as though she wanted to be elsewhere. She was a bit of a small mystery…a diverting one at best. Jun had taken quite a blow to his pride thanks to her. But Jun had been rude and well deserving of the set down.

“What make you of my games?” he asked her, watching her expressions intently. She had a very mobile face, but her expressions changed so rapidly one had to pay close attention in order to make anything of them.

“They take up a great deal of time. But the people find them quite diverting,” she said succinctly.

Garrick tried not to smile.

“Yes, but what do
you
make of them?”

She seemed to think on it a moment. “There are many great warriors in your order. You are a very fortunate king.”

“Indeed I am,” he said, still watching her. “But I see my men at practice every day. Why do you think I issue these games?”

“Contest brings out the best and the worst in people, unlike practice. Here there are rules that must be obeyed. It would show how well your men behave within a set of restrictions.”

Damn but she was clever, Garrick marveled. Far more clever and diverting than…what was her name again? A pair of large breasts only got a woman so far before her company begins to lag for want of something between the ears. But he had been more set on the something between her legs so…it had not truly been necessary. Still, it was always nice to have. He looked down at Sarea’s breasts and contemplated them a moment. A perfect handful, he decided. They’d have nice dark nipples too. Like berries waiting to be nibbled on.

Hmm. Perhaps this had been her goal in all of this. To garner his attention and become his next mistress. He was constantly dodging a barrage of women vying for the seat at his right…and even more for the seat at his left. And as far as a mistress goes, she wasn’t at all unattractive. She had long, glossy black hair that hung in a braided virgin’s noose down her back. He was guessing based on what he could see, but he’d bet it would reach just below her buttocks…if not longer. It was hard to tell with a noose. Just as it was hard to tell if a woman was a virgin in actuality when wearing the noose. It was only supposed to be worn by women who were pure of a man’s touch. Anyone else would be sacrilege. The priests of the Joyful One would come down pretty hard on a woman who wore the noose out of turn.