Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (47 page)

Tristian nodded, and Scarlett knew that
Arrahbella wasn’t telling him anything that he didn’t already know.
If there was anyone in Tay that rivaled Scarlett’s sharp memory and
ever growing knowledge of things, it was Tristian.

“Fi signifies a female descendent of a royal
family,” Arrahbella continued. “Fu signifies a male
descendent.”

“Hence your name,” Tristian said, “fi
Cipio.”

A look of surprise crossed Arrahbella’s
face. “You know my language?”

“Not as fluently as you know mine,” Tristian
said. “I have spent a great majority of my life confined to beds
and chairs with little else to do but read. One learns much when he
consumes all the books in the castle and reads them again until he
acquires more which he reads again and again.” He smiled at the end
so she wouldn’t take him too seriously, which she didn’t.

“Please don’t mistake my meaning,”
Arrahbella said. “I do admire your country very much. I admit I
have often envied the princesses of your land. To be a princess
must be an amazing thing.”

“Well, if I understand the social structure
of your people, and I believe I do, a princess is exactly what you
are.”

“My lord?”

“Even if you are not considered such on
Efferous, now that you are here, seeing a prince, as unrefined as
this one may be, you are, I’m afraid, a princess.”

Scarlett couldn’t be sure, but she thought
she saw the young woman blush.

The two of them sat for some time discussing
the differences between Edhen and Efferous, their likes and
dislikes of sweet cakes and wines.

Scarlett sat down in the grass to work on
her embroidery, listening as the two of them danced around the
topic most prominent on Scarlett’s mind.

Tristian finally broached the subject. “If I
ask you a personal question will you be honest with me?”

Arrahbella looked almost offended. “I would
never be less than completely honest with you, my lord.”

“I’m curious to know how you feel about
traveling half a world away from your home to marry a man you’ve
never met.”

Arrahbella’s answer came before no
hesitation. “My mother and father have prepared me well for this
day. It is my duty as ficept to my father, adjucept of Konia. I
honor them by fulfilling my part in this arrangement.”

“And is that what this is to you? Fulfilling
an
arrangement
?”

She looked down at her lap where she had
been toying with the pleats of her gown.

“Let us speak plainly,” she said, and when
she looked up the sweetness had vanished from her face. She looked
like a woman of business conducting a transaction.

Tristian gestured with an open hand for her
to continue.

“This marriage is born from our parents,”
she said, her tone going hollow. “It is mutually beneficial for
both of our families for us to wed. For the Elles, my father has
pledged his support of King Dagart’s war efforts. For the Cipios
this union will mend decades of hostility between our great
kingdoms. Having a daughter married to one of the great kings of
Edhen will give my family much prestige on Efferous. I hold no
illusions, my lord. I will provide you with an heir, and serve your
family with loyalty.”

“What about love?”

Arahbella looked shocked. She blinked, her
eyes softening. When she spoke, her voice was tinged with grief. “I
don’t think people like you and I have the luxury of love, my
lord.”

If her words affected Tristian at all, he
didn’t show it. “So after the wedding there will be war. Tay and
Glencoe…” He stopped, shaking his head. “The two kingdoms have been
at each other’s throats for several generations. Now they compete
for the support of the high king. You and I are nothing except
pawns in their schemes, which I care nothing for.” His words were
blunt, but they didn’t seem to phase Arrahbella in the
slightest.

“Perhaps,” she said, “but Tay is on the
verge of a radical growth that will benefit many if its campaign
against Glencoe is successful.”

Tristian smirked. “You sound like my
father.”

“Does that please, my lord?”

Tristian shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“My father cares more about impressing the high king than he does
about you or me, which is something else I care nothing about.”

“Such passivity is dangerous…” She stopped
and bowed her head. “Forgive me, my lord. It was impolite to
criticize you.”

Tristian waved his hand. “There is nothing
to forgive. We were speaking plainly, remember. Thank you for your
honesty.”

“May I ask what my lord does care about?”
Arrahbella asked.

Tristian leaned back in his chair and
thought for a moment. “Well, I would like to care about you,
miss.”

If Arrahbella wasn’t blushing before, she
was now. “Me?”

“Truthfully, I find my life rather
meaningless. To love someone, I think, would be a great
fulfillment.”

Arrahbella considered this for a moment, but
Scarlett couldn’t tell by the blank expression on her face if she
was moved or revolted by the notion. Then she said, “I think that
would be lovely,” and Tristian smiled.

Their conversation moved on to lighter
topics. Tristian regaled Arrahbella with stories about the great
sea captains of Tay and the battles they had fought in the waters
before the city. Arrahbella told him tales of her home land and
answered many questions he had about the strange creatures there,
including the one he found most fascinating: the basilisk. Edhen
had no such creature, but many believed that on Efferous it could
grew big enough to swallow a man whole. Arrahbella explained that
if the basilisks ever did grow that large it was a long time ago,
and that today they were no wider than a man’s leg.

Finally she serenaded him with a song from
her homeland. Scarlett didn’t understand any of the words, but the
young woman’s voice was remarkable.

As evening began to close in around them,
Tristian stood and said, “You have had a long trip, and I wish to
give you plenty of time this evening to refresh yourself, indulge
in the castle’s hot baths, and make yourself at home.”

Arrahbella dipped her head. “My lord is too
kind.”

Her eyes then went to Scarlett, which made
her tense. Scarlett was much more used to being ignored, taken as
one of Tristian’s servants, and though that was a role she often
played for appearances sake, there was little truth to it.

Arrahbella walked over to her. She bent down
and said, “Hello. And who might you be?”

“Oh,” Tristian said, “my apologies. This is
Red, my friend. She doesn’t speak.”

“Red. What an interesting name.” Arrahbella
looked down at Scarlett’s embroidery. “What lovely work.”

Scarlett smiled in thanks.

When Arrahbella stood up, she asked, “Is she
your sister?”

“No. A friend.”

Arrahbella looked at Scarlett once again and
her confusion was evident.

“Oh,” she said. “I see.”

The three of them rode together in
Tristian’s carriage back to the castle. This discouraged Scarlett
who had planned on asking Tristian what he thought of the beautiful
princess, having already written,
Do you like her?
on her
chalkboard. Out of fear that Arrahbella might see it, Scarlett
erased it before climbing into the carriage.

Two Efferousian maidservants were waiting
for the princess on the castle’s front steps. After Tristian had
bid her farewell, they escorted Arrahbella to a private area of the
castle that had been reserved for her.

Scarlett noticed Aamor lingering just inside
the entryway eyeing the foreign princess as she and her small
entourage glided past.

Scarlett hurried up the steps to meet Aamor,
eager to fill her in on all that had transpired. When she noticed
that Tristian had not followed, she stopped and turned around. He
was walking down the street into town, limping along with the
assistance of his cane. She started to go after him when Aamor
reached out and touched her shoulder.

“Let’s leave him be for now, love,” she
said.

While Aamor went off to attend to other
tasks throughout the castle, Scarlett made herself comfortable atop
the front steps where the late summer sun had warmed the stone. She
sewed for a while on her embroidery, recalling Arrahbella’s kind
compliment about her work. Scarlett didn’t think it was anything
that special, just an image of a bear on beige fabric, and not even
a very good one. She wondered if the young woman had been genuine
with her compliment.

Bickering from inside the castle caught
Scarlett’s attention. She listened for several moments from the
castle steps, but the voices were too hushed to make them out. She
stood and tiptoed toward the open front doors.

Peering into the entryway she noticed King
Dagart and Queen Catherina having a fiery, but hushed, discussion.
Their voices echoed down the corridor to Scarlett’s ears.

“And here I was daring to think you’d come
back after three years with a little more fondness in your heart,”
Dagart said.

“Please,” Catherina moaned. “Of all the
things you ever wanted from me fondness wasn’t one of them.”

“So what do you expect? Do you want them to
marry tomorrow?”

“No, but perhaps a little sooner than two
years.”

“A year and a half. Enough time for me to
see how genuine she is.”

“What, you don’t trust her?”

“Not entirely.”

Catherina giggled. “And what part of you is
so distrustful?” She reached down and grabbed his crotch. “Are you
sure you’re not just stalling the wedding so you can break the mare
on your own?”

Dagart slapped her hard across the cheek.
Scarlett had witnessed him do the same to Tristian earlier in the
day, but this blow had made the queen stagger. To Scarlett’s
surprise, however, Catherina came up smiling.

“I see time hasn’t changed you much either,”
she said.

“Tristian will marry the whore when I deem
it necessary.”

Catherina looked at him and smiled.
“Whatever you say,
my dear
.”

The king turned in a huff and disappeared
into a room at the end of the hallway.

Catherina glanced toward the entrance. She
locked eyes with Scarlett, a glare that startled her and sent her
ducking back behind the door. She stood there a moment, heaving,
terrified of being noticed by the queen. In the two years she’d
spent in Tay, Scarlett had heard nothing but horror stories about
Lady Catherina’s explosive temper. They said the queen was a woman
to be either pitied or feared, but Scarlett had yet to make up her
mind about which.

“Don’t be afraid, child,” Catherina said.
“Come to me.”

With her heart thumping like a rabbit in her
chest, Scarlett moved out from behind the door. The queen was
standing in the middle of the stone entry court, her thin frame
draped in lush silk and lace. Despite how small she was, the woman
emanated power and menace.

“My, my,” Catherina said. “I had heard of
the resemblance, but, by the gods, you look just like her, the
daughter I lost all those years ago. Please, come closer. Let me
look at you.”

Scarlett walked toward the queen with
unhurried steps, trying to be obedient, but craving nothing more
than to run the other way.

“Is it also true that you cannot speak?”
Catherina asked.

Scarlett nodded.

“Good,” she said. The queen looked off to
the left as though speaking to someone else, someone who Scarlett
couldn’t see. “I do not ever whish to hear this ghost child speak.”
Her eyes blinked and refocused on Scarlett.

“You saw the king hit me, didn’t you? It’s
all right, you know, to allow a man to hit you. It makes them feel
in control. He thinks he’s running this kingdom, and so I endure
his abuse. It’s a trick all women must learn, but it takes time,
patience, and determination because men are stupid and stubborn.”
She caressed Scarlett’s cheek. “You see much in this castle, don’t
you, little one?”

Scarlett decided not to answer that
question.

“One thing I do not wish you to see is me,”
Catherina said, her tone icing. “And I do not wish to see you. Keep
your,” she paused, shivering, “disgusting face out of my presence,
for the pain I feel looking upon you is… is…” Her voice faded
away.

“Mother?”

The queen jerked her hand away from
Scarlett’s face, blinking her teary eyes as she looked toward the
entryway where Tristian stood with his cane.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“Yes, quite,” Catherina said. “Just speaking
with this child.”

“Her name is—”

“I care not about her foolish name!”
Catherina snapped. She cleared her throat, smoothed out the front
of her dress, and walked away.

Tristian watched her go before looking
toward Scarlett. She tried to appear brave, but she knew the
fearful impression Catherina had left on her face lingered bold
enough for Tristian to see it.

“You’ll have to forgive my mother, Red,” he
said. “She has not been well for many years.” He ambled over to
her. “Father sent her away for some care, but…” He grimaced. After
a breath he said, “I fear it has all been in vain.”

Without another word he climbed the steps to
the second floor.

Scarlett ran outside to collect her
embroidery, and then pattered after him up the stairs and down the
main corridor. Through the last door on the right was Tristian’s
bedroom. She found him there seated on the edge of his bed, a
downhearted expression upon his face.

“Please close the door,” he asked.

Scarlett obeyed. She walked to her bed that
was situated in a small veiled cove across from Tristian’s. She sat
down on the mattress, watching him, her insides burning with
questions she wanted to ask.

Tristian started to unbutton his shirt when
he noticed her looking at him. He shrugged. “Well, I guess this
will be my story then,” he said. “A pawn in my father’s
warmongering.” He peeled off the gambeson, and then went for his
boots. “Love? Humph. You can forget about love. We have nothing in
common, her and I. She shares my father’s ideals, not mine.” He
hunched over his knees, staring at the floor. “Love was never meant
to find me.”