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Early Fall, 357 M.E.
Lots of messengers visited the Pradivani Palace. Very few of them stayed longer than a single night.
As summer turned to autumn, the Earl of Hyrne was hard at work planning for the liberation of Myrcia and the overthrow of the usurper, and he needed to keep in contact with their friends over the border. So it was no wonder that knights and nobles and rogues in dark cloaks came and went at all hours. Elwyn barely noticed their presence, most of the time. But when one of them showed up and wouldn’t leave, that caught her attention.
One morning, as she returned from a ride down the valley, she saw Edwin walking in the garden with a tall blond man in a worn leather jerkin. Elwyn knew the fellow had to be a knight or an officer, because Edwin was miming sword and spear thrusts, and the man would make the same motions, as if giving the boy a brief lesson in fighting.
Edwin saw her watching and tried to wave her over, but at that moment, Rada appeared on the veranda and called out that Elwyn’s uncle (well, step uncle), the Earl of Hyrne, wanted “a brief word.” Technically, a summons from the king trumped a summons from an earl, but Edwin would excuse her for ignoring him, while Uncle Lawrence certainly wouldn’t.
Inside, she found her uncle studying a map. He was always doing that now. A huge map of all Myrcia lay on his desk, half-covered in messages and books and broken quills. Behind the desk, pinned over several tall windows, were more detailed maps of Keneshire, Keelshire, and the Crown Lands. The route back to Formacaster—the route back home. As Elwyn entered, the earl was measuring the scale with his fingers and making notes in pencil on the Keneshire map.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked.
“What?” He turned, brow creased with annoyance. “Oh, right. Are you busy?”
“Not at the moment. No more so than usual.”
“I need you to visit some of the Myrcian families in town here.”
“I often do.”
Her uncle made a dismissive little snort. “I mean that I’d like you to ask them for money, not drink their wine and sleep with their sons. And their daughters, too.”
“Do you really think I haven’t been doing my part?” Elwyn crossed her arms. “Rada and I go to—”
“When Lady Davies goes to meet with the knights and nobles here, everyone knows she goes on behalf of the king and not for her own pleasure. I don’t know that anyone can say the same of you.”
“Are you asking for my help? Because this is a funny way of asking for help.”
“I shouldn’t need to ask. You should know what to do without any prompting. Of course, if you did, then you’d already be married to Andras Byrne, and we’d probably be in Formacaster now.”
Elwyn positively bristled, but she knew there was no point in having this argument again. The fact that she and Andras would have been miserable together didn’t matter to the earl. The fact that Andras was in love with Elwyn’s cousin Donella, daughter of the usurper, mattered even less.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll go around and pass the hat for money. Just so you shut up about it.”
The next evening, she and Rada made an appearance at the rented palace of Lady Odilia Dowell, widow of a knight killed at the fall of Leornian. Though Dowell had been unlucky in battle, he and his wife had wisely invested a great deal of money in merchant houses on this side of the border, so Lady Odilia still had the funds to support herself in style. She also helped support less fortunate exiles, and of course she was happy to pledge even more to restore Edwin to his rightful throne.
“We won’t forget this,” Elwyn assured her.
“Be sure you win, your royal highness,” said Lady Odilia. “You and Lord Andras, of course. He’s so lovely and brave. You must be so happy.”
“H’m...yes,” said Elwyn, scanning the crowd around the little fountain courtyard. Suddenly, she spotted that same big blond fellow—the one who had been talking to Edwin earlier. He had on a green and red silk tabard and a big sword in a bejeweled scabbard. Elwyn couldn’t help noticing that he was very handsome.
“How is Lord Andras? Have you had word from him?”
“He’s fine, I’m sure,” said Elwyn distractedly. “Pardon me, but who is that tall man over there?”
Her ladyship turned. “Oh, him. That’s Sir Franklin Porcher. Don’t you know him? He’s from Newshire.”
“Porcher...Porcher.” The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Not related to Quin and Gloria Porcher, the famous tournament champions, is he?”
“Their grandson,” said Odilia, smiling. “I didn’t think people your age even remembered those days anymore.”
“My father studied swordsmanship under them,” said Elwyn. “He told me about it.”
Odd that she would remember that. Or perhaps not so odd. Her father hadn’t spent a lot of time talking to her, over the years. So of course the few things he had said would stick with her.
“Should I introduce you?”
Elwyn considered the offer for a second. He was quite good looking. But then she saw her uncle watching her from across the courtyard.
“Perhaps later,” she said, turning to point at an older couple at a nearby card table. “For now, let’s go talk to Sir Gilbert and Lady Torrance. They might appreciate the opportunity to contribute to the cause, the way you have. Particularly if you help me convince them.”
She succeeded in getting a sizeable contribution from the Torrances. And she won a little off them at cards, as well, which was a nice bonus. She completely forgot about the lovely Sir Franklin Porcher, in fact, until the next week when she saw him at an entirely different party at a different expatriate mansion.
From an upper balcony, she saw him down in the torch-lit garden, talking to Edwin again. They seemed to be getting on quite well. A little later, when she ran into her brother at the dessert table, she asked him about the tall knight.
“Oh, he’s good fun,” said Edwin, smiling. “He came here with a message from Duchess Flora of Keneburg.”
“Ah, I see.” Elwyn paused for a bite of iced almond cake. “Um...doesn’t he need to go back with an answer?”
“No idea. But he’s got all sorts of great war stories. And he tells all sorts of stories about his grandparents, too. And he loves to talk about our war plans.”
“Our war plans? He asks about our war plans, does he?”
“You should talk to him. I could introduce you.”
“Sure, I.... Actually, perhaps later. I need to have a word with someone.”
She had seen Sir Walter Davies, Rada’s husband, over by the drinks table, and she hurried over to join him. Elwyn didn’t like to think of herself as being overly paranoid. She thought she was exactly the right amount of paranoid. It struck her as suspicious that this newcomer was suddenly worming his way into the confidence of her brother.
“Walter, do you know Sir Franklin Porcher?” she asked.
“A bit, my lady, yes,” he said. “Did you want me to introduce—”
“Not yet. Is it true he’s here as a messenger for Duchess Flora?”
“I believe so, yes, my lady.”
“And he doesn’t need to get back with a return message from my uncle?”
Walter shrugged his big shoulders. “Perhaps the reply was sent with someone else.”
“What do you know about him?”
“I know he was a squire around the same time I was. We saw service in some of the same campaigns in the Loshadnarodski War, but I never knew him especially well.”
“And who did he squire for?”
Walter’s face reddened slightly. “Well, my lady, he, er...he squired for Duke Lukas of Severn.”
“Oh, really, now?” Elwyn raised an eyebrow. Duke Lukas was the usurper’s captain general and brother-in-law, as well as the sworn enemy of her whole family.
“But he’s definitely a Sigor man, through and through,” protested Walter. “I mean, his father and his brother, Alan, fought at Leornian on our side. His family have been in the service of your cousin, Duke Aldrick of Newshire, for many years now.”
Ah, yes. Cousin Aldrick. The one who had surrendered to the usurper and was now trusted with imprisoning Elwyn’s stepmother and her sister, Alice. Half to herself, Elwyn muttered, “This gets better and better.” Then, to Walter, she said, “I believe I’d like to meet Sir Franklin now, if you don’t mind.”
Walter took her over to the far end of the garden, where a long balcony jutted out over the roofs of the mansions below, offering a splendid view of the old city to the north, all aglow with lights, and the mist of the falls drifting into the twilight of the Shikander Valley. Sir Franklin sat on the balustrade there, talking to some young squires and a curvaceous young Sahasran noblewoman who was the granddaughter of the Grand Vizier himself.
Elwyn didn’t know either of the squires very well, but she had tried a brief fling with the girl the previous year. Elwyn had found her dull as dirt when they were in bed and annoyingly clingy when they were out of it. When she saw Elwyn coming, she curtsied quickly to Sir Franklin and left, taking one of the squires with her.
Elwyn ignored her and put on her brightest, most welcoming smile. Walter effected the introductions, and Elwyn allowed Sir Franklin to kiss her hand.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to welcome you to Briddobad earlier, Sir Franklin,” she said.
“And I am sorry, as well, to have missed the honor of being introduced to your royal highness.” His voice was soft and deep. “I am pleased to learn the rumors of your fame are well deserved.”
“Rumors?” Elwyn couldn’t help laughing. “You have piqued my curiosity. Which rumors have you heard?”
“That you are the most beautiful woman in Myrcia, even when you are not in Myrcia.”
He was laying it on a bit thick, she thought. “Is that really the rumor you’ve heard about me, Sir Franklin?”
“I will admit I have heard...others.” He met her eye directly, without a hint of a blush on his chiseled features.
She held his gaze, then said, “I find myself tiring of all the noise of this party. I think I might like a walk in the moonlight.”
“May I accompany you?” he asked, holding out a big, muscular arm.
“I believe you may,” she said, taking it. “Sir Walter, good evening.” She nodded to the squire whose name she didn’t know. “And you, too, my dear boy.”
They left the party by a side gate, framed by a huge bougainvillea tree, and came out into Nilakanth Road, one of the narrow, twisting lanes of the Chamalee District. High walls ran down either side, whitewashed or painted in vibrant colors that were all muted and gray in the moonlight. Branches of weeping cherry and plum trees peeked over the tops of the walls, casting darker pools of shadow on the cobbled street.
“How do you find Briddobad?” she asked.
“Lovely, my lady. It’s a relief to be able to speak the name of the true king openly.”
“I imagine so. Anything else you like about this place?”
“The food is good. I’ve always liked lamb curry. But it is not home. I’m sure your royal highness must long to return to Myrcia.”
“Don’t we all. I notice that you’ve become rather a favorite with my brother.”
Sir Franklin chuckled. “His majesty is a very enthusiastic student of chivalry. If I had the means—and if there were enough flat space in this city—I would love to put on a joust for him. His majesty has so many questions.”
“Did he tell you...? Well, Edwin may not even remember, but our father was a student of your grandparents. He always spoke very highly of them.”
“They will be gratified to hear that. They are still alive, you know—living in retirement on their estate outside Rawdon. And...,” he lowered his voice, “they are staunch supporters of your family’s cause, my lady. I believe my grandfather would have ridden off to fight at Osricksburg and Leornian if my grandmother had let him.”
They reached the end of Nilakanth Road, at the intersection with Santee Road. “This way.” Elwyn tugged at his arm, dragging him left. “It’s interesting you mention Leornian, Sir Franklin. I understand your father and brother fought there.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“But you did not.”
He let out a sigh. “No, my lady. I was sworn to the service of the Duchy of Keneburg.”
“Ah. So you were on the other side, then.”
“I was not at the battle, my lady. But yes, I served according to my oath. And yes, that means that I served in the army of the usurper.”
He sounded a bit disheartened, as if he worried he had caused offense. But his honesty had actually impressed her. She had expected him to prevaricate somehow.
At the next intersection, she pulled him into a sharp right turn, heading along Bandar Road. There was another party happening here, behind one of the high walls, and the sounds of music and laughter drifted into the lane. They had to skirt a long line of carriages waiting to take the partygoers home.
“Where are we going, my lady?” Sir Franklin asked.
“A little place I know,” she answered, turning to grin up at him. “Now tell me, since you were on the other side for a while, what do you honestly think of my Gramiren cousins?”
“They have no honor or decency. I can’t tell you, my lady, how happy I was when I learned Keneburg would be coming over to your side again. They are all horrible people.”
“All of them? What do you think of Young Broderick? Or his sister, Donella?”
“They are not fit to wipe the dust of your shoes, my lady. They are worse than their parents.”
He could not have known it, but he had roused all her suspicion again. Elwyn despised her cousin, the usurper. And everyone knew the usurper’s wife, “Queen” Muriel, was one of the most horrible women ever to live. But curiously enough, their two children, Broderick and Donella, had turned out good and decent and thoroughly honest. Elwyn liked and admired both of them, and considered them her friends.
“Why are you staying here in Briddobad?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be on your way back with another message by now?”
The big muscles of his arm tensed; he was clearly startled by the question. Then he leaned his head down, so that his lips were almost brushing her hair. “Is it so strange to think, my lady, that I might have found reasons to remain?” With his free hand, he reached over and caressed her cheek.
Now he was being ridiculous. They had only been introduced minutes earlier. How could he expect her to believe that he was staying in Briddobad for her? He was a proven liar now, and he was almost certainly an agent of the enemy.
She needed a little bit more, though. She had to gain his trust. And it didn’t hurt that he was so handsome, and his voice was so deep, reverberating against her chest whenever he spoke. Certain parts of her were starting to respond to his touch in ways that had nothing to do with state policy or the plan for her brother’s restoration.
At the next turn, she pulled him down a sharp left into Ghidya Road, and a few hundred feet on, they came to the intersection with Biyar Road. A tiny civic garden stood there, with a fountain, a war memorial, and some kind of monument thanking Lord so-and-so for putting up the fountain centuries earlier. The whole area, a triangle barely fifty feet on either side, was overshadowed by a huge old plum tree, with long, thick branches that were only held up now with stakes set into the ground.
Elwyn dragged him through the foliage into the shadowy heart of the tree. She kissed him hard, grabbing his tunic and twisting it in her fists. She bit his lip and, with one hand, undid the laces of his trousers. He was already hard, as she had expected he would be. He tried to unlace her bodice, but she shook her head and whispered, “Later.” Then she turned and braced herself over one of the big, low branches. He saw what she was doing, and started pulling up her dress in the back, even as she tugged down her lacy undergarments.
That time it was quick and messy, but when they finished and had their clothes straight again, she took him down Biyar Road to Madyan Road. And from there, they had a quick stroll to the Pradivani Palace and her own bedroom.
Some hours later, as they lay together, slick with oil and sweat, she asked him again, “Why are you staying in Briddobad?”
“Because I wanted you.”
“You didn’t know me before tonight.”
“Yes, but I had heard of you.”
Perhaps he meant that to be flattering, or to sound romantic. But for a moment, it made Elwyn feel very small and pathetic, even though she had done everything possible to live up to those rumors. Then she said to herself, “This wasn’t really for me. This was for Edwin. I have to keep him safe.”
She rolled over and faced Sir Franklin, running a finger over the big muscles of his chest. “What if I told you that I like Donella Gramiren? And her brother, too. What if I said I wanted someone very special—someone I can trust completely—to get messages to them?”
That was the hook; she had already laid out the bait, as it were. Now she had to see if he could be trapped.
“My lady,” he said, “it’s very good of you to speak well of your relations, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m not talking about them as my relatives,” she whispered, moving closer and sliding her thigh between his legs. “I want to work with them. I want to find a way to make peace. My brother and my uncle don’t ever need to know.”
“What?” His eyes flashed in anger, and for the first time that evening, after all the depraved things they had done, he blushed. “My...my lady, you can’t be serious!”
So much bluster. She felt she was almost painfully close to a confession.
“You needn’t pretend to be shocked. I know you were squire to Duke Lukas. I’m sure you must know certain ways to contact the usurper, if you really needed to do it.”
He drew back farther, sitting at the edge of the bed. “My lady, it is true that I served Duke Lukas in my youth. My grandparents were lifelong friends with his late father, Duke Baldwin. The three of them were part of the same team during the grand tournament in the year 300. For many years, there was a close friendship between our families. But trust me when I say, I am no friend to the Gramirens or their cause.”
“My dear Sir Franklin, you must know that here, in this room, you are among friends.” She stretched out on the bed, kicking the covers away so he could get a good, long look at her.
The color drained from his face, and he jumped off the bed, grabbing for his clothes. “Is...is this some kind of joke?” He started pulling his trousers up, then let them fall absentmindedly back to the floor. “No. Wait. This was a trap, wasn’t it? You think I’m a spy.”
“I know you’re a spy,” she purred. “I wanted to find out if—”
“Fuck you!” he cried, pulling the pants up again. He tugged on his tunic and, with the rest of his clothes under his arm, he started for the door. When he was nearly there, however, he turned and shook a finger at her. “Honestly, I never thought the rumors were true. I was sure when people said you were a whore, they must be lying.”
She sat up, pulling the blankets over herself. “So, now you think I’m a whore, do you?”
“No. At least whores are honest.” And with that, he stormed out of her room.
For several minutes, she was so furious at him that all she could do was twist her bed sheets in angry knots. Then, slightly calmer, she went to her sideboard, under the mounted heads of various deer and antelope she had shot, and poured herself a nice, big cup of whiskey. She couldn’t finish it, though. She felt slightly nauseous. And then, finally, as she started getting dressed, she settled into a deep sense of shame and self-loathing, which was at least familiar territory for her.
“He was never a spy,” she thought. “I made it all up, because I wanted to do something to help. And because I’m a complete idiot. And I was attracted to him. Like an idiot.”
She took a long, hot bath, and then she tried to sleep. But she couldn’t. So she went down to the kitchens as the sky started to grow brighter, and she made herself a big pot of hot coffee. Then she took it out in the back garden and watched the sun come up over the back wall and the old, ruined fountain. This wasn’t the first time she had done this, and it always made her feel a little bit better.
After an hour or two, she heard footsteps coming over the back lawn, and she turned to see her brother, still in his dressing gown and slippers.
“Why are you up so late?” he asked.
“What are you doing out of bed so early?” she asked.
“I heard people arguing down in the study. I went to see what was going on, and it was Sir Franklin and Uncle Lawrence. Your name came up. So, I guess Sir Franklin is going back to Myrcia. And, um...I think our uncle wants to talk to you.”
“Of course he does.”
She stood slowly and dumped the last of the coffee into the flowerbed. “Edwin, dear, you know I’d do anything for you, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He swallowed and looked at the ground. “If that’s true, then once in a while, could you try to be....”
“Good?”
“No. Could you try to be happy?”
For a few seconds, she couldn’t find her voice, but then she patted him on the head, and she managed to say, “Yes. I will try. Just for you.”