| |
The Gemot put Lily in mind of certain lovers she’d had in the past—a lot of build-up, followed by a sudden and inconclusive disappointment. For weeks, everyone had speculated about what would happen. Everyone had tried to guess how the accusations against the queen might affect the vote. All the nobles of Myrcia (or at least a good many of them) had finally assembled, and then they had debated for less than an hour before adjourning again.
No one seemed to know when they’d be called back into session. Everyone agreed it had been a tremendous embarrassment, though people disagreed as to who had been most humiliated: Princess Elwyn, the Earl of Hyrne, Baron Broderick, or the nation in general.
Within hours, there were rumors, dark rumors spoken only in hushed whispers, that men were buying boats to sneak out of town and head upstream to Hamstowe. Someone said the Earl of Hyrne had been arrested by Colonel Rath’s men, but the next morning, as people gathered for services at the cathedral, Lily heard from Lady Gwenevir Dryhten that the Earl had escaped the city, possibly with the help of traitors within Colonel Rath’s militia. Gwenevir thought it “terribly romantic.” Other people said it meant the queen had lost, and Baron Broderick would be king in a week.
This was the first time since arriving in Myrcia that Lily had bothered going to one of their church services. She had asked Pellus if he wanted to go, too, but he had pulled the blanket over his head and told her that if this “Earstien” the Myrcians worshipped was a loving god, then he wouldn’t make his people get up so blasted early in the morning. So she went alone.
She didn’t understand the prayers, and the hymns all sounded alike to her, but before and after the service, she had a marvelous time visiting with all her friends from the court. Susana Barras, the Duchess of Pinshire, bustled over to intercept Lily on the front steps of the cathedral and ask her to tea, and Lily happily accepted.
The Barras family were said to be in the queen’s camp, though not fanatically so. And with the exception of Lily, nearly everyone there that morning seemed to be old friends of Elwyn and Rohesia. The mood, therefore, was almost funereal.
As Susana supervised the housemaids serving out the scones and tea, her mother-in-law, the old Dowager Duchess Emily, said, “I can’t believe Broderick is going through with this. I can’t believe he’s forcing that poor girl into marrying his son. It’s a damned outrage.”
“He’s not forcing her to do anything,” sniffed Duchess Susana. “You weren’t up at the castle, Mother. The two of them—Young Broderick and Elwyn—were out on her balcony together, in front of everyone, eating cakes and drinking coffee. Just the two of them. Alone.”
“I saw them, too,” said Baroness Sheehy, sounding shocked and appalled. “That’s the balcony off her private parlor you know. I’ve been up there. No respectable girl would entertain a boy out there unless they had some kind of...you know...understanding. I think it’s awful for that girl to abandon her mother and disgrace her father’s memory like that. She should be ashamed of herself.”
Lily looked around the parlor and saw quite a number of women nodding their heads in agreement, including Lady Gwenevir Dryhten and Lady Margaret Ethelmar, who were both ladies-in-waiting to the queen.
“Suppose the princess was forced into having tea out there,” suggested Lily. “Or suppose she didn’t realize people were watching.”
“Then she’s a blasted fool,” said Duchess Susana grimly. “I always said that girl needed to spend more time learning how to behave at court, and less time out hunting wild bears.”
“Wild boar,” muttered the dowager duchess. “Elwyn never hunted bears that I ever heard.” She sighed. “It’s not as if either of them looked happy out there. I’d keep that in mind.”
Lily did her best to stand up for the princess, but feelings toward Elwyn at the party ranged from disappointed pity to outright disdain, and there was very little Lily could do to change anyone’s mind. She went back to the inn after tea, still worrying over the princess’s fate. Lily knew all too well how it felt to be forced to do things against her will. But she was used to it. She was...well, she was what she was. Poor Elwyn, on the other hand, was royalty, and the sense of helplessness and humiliation was probably new to her.
The next day, she went up to the castle. Prefect Moira had said the Empire didn’t want Elwyn and Young Broderick to get married. If Elwyn had decided to accept the marriage, if she had indeed abandoned her family and decided to—quite literally—get into bed with the Gramirens, then Moira needed to know as soon as possible.
And what if Elwyn really was a turncoat? In the back of Lily’s mind, terrifying thoughts lurked. Moira had told her that she was authorized to kill people if she had to. What would happen if the only way to stop the wedding was to kill the bride or the groom? Lily quickly decided, if it came to that, and she had no specific orders to the contrary, she would kill Young Broderick. Then she bent over and put her face in her hands.
“How is it that I’m even thinking about this?” she moaned.
The carriage pulled up in front of the palace, and Lily tried her charming, disarming best to get past the guards and into Elwyn’s apartment. The men were mostly polite in their refusals, though one took her aside and suggested a trade they might make. She turned him down. If it came to that, then she certainly wasn’t above that sort of thing. But she knew there had to be a better way. She went across the Palm Court to the southwest stairs, and then up to the apartment of Lady Anne Meriwether.
Lady Anne had apparently been partying quite late the night before. She lay sprawled on her window seat wearing a pained look, a disheveled dressing gown, and very little else. Her face was gray and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh, Earstien,” she groaned, when the housemaid showed Lily in. “What time is it?”
“Quarter past eleven, my lady,” said the housemaid.
“It’s that early?” grumbled Anne. “Bring me some coffee. No. Not coffee. Get me some more wine.”
“I can come back another time,” said Lily. She looked around the room, crammed full of ornamental plants and plaster statues and dusty musical instruments.
“Nonsense! Come drink with me,” said Anne. “The more the merrier.”
Lily had to shove a pile of crumpled undergarments off a chair in order to sit down. The maid brought some wine, and Lady Anne had two glasses before Lily had even finished half of her first one.
“I’ve always loved the Empire,” Anne said. “I always liked the idea of a place where there aren’t so many rules in life that stop you from having fun.”
“We have social rules, too,” said Lily. “They’re just different from the ones you have here.”
“Different and better,” said Anne, pouting. “Of course, I’ll probably never get to go there. Not as long as I’m seeing Broderick. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he really hates you people.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Lily. “Listen, I was wondering if you could help me. I want to see Princess Elwyn, to make sure she’s alright. Senator Pellus and I are a little worried about her.”
With the hand that wasn’t holding her wineglass, Anne covered her eyes. “Oh, Earstien. You’re one of those people who pities her, aren’t you? You think she’s so perfect, and it’s so sad that she can’t go out riding all the time like she used to.”
“Well, it is sad,” said Lily. “I feel sorry for her. Don’t you?”
“The last girl in Myrcia that anyone should feel sorry for is Elwyn Sigor. She’s a bitch.”
Lily shifted awkwardly in her chair, as the vision of Elwyn stalking angrily away in her black velvet dress came back to her, unbidden. “I didn’t say she’s always a pleasant person to be around. But she’s had a hard life.”
Anne burst out laughing, spilling some of her wine on her robe. “Oh, shit. Here, hand me that handkerchief. Thank you. Now look here—she’s had the easiest life of anyone in this country. And if it’s getting harder for her now, it’s her own damned fault. She’s stubborn and nasty and selfish. Go talk to her—go spend five fucking minutes in her presence—and you’ll see what I mean.”
“I would like to talk to her, actually,” said Lily, seizing her opportunity now that the conversation had come full circle. “And I’d appreciate it if you could help me do that.”
“What can you give me to make it worth my while?” said Anne, grinning.
Lily had ten Sovereigns in her purse, and more in secret compartments back in her trunk. She would have given it all to Anne, and other things, too. The girl was certainly attractive in that silk robe, falling off one shoulder and lying open up to her knees. If Anne wanted a little “Thessalian” adventure, if she wanted a taste of what Immani decadence was really like, Lily would have been happy to give it to her.
Anne pointed at Lily’s shoes—a graceful pair of bright red leather boots with gilded buckles up the side. “I love those. If I help you, would you let me have them?”
“I...I suppose so, yes.” Lily was very fond of them, but she could easily get another pair back in Albus Magnus.
Anne laughed and clapped her hands as Lily removed her boots. It turned out their feet were almost exactly the same size—something Anne claimed she had been able to tell by looking. Once the Myrcian girl had the boots on, she danced around the room, barely avoiding the piles of junk and fussy, brocaded furniture that filled it.
In return, Anne gave Lily a pair of plain brown shoes in a blocky, conservative style that no one had worn in the Empire for ten years. But Lily needed something to wear for the rest of the day, and they looked like they would be warm in the winter, at least.
“Now then, on the subject of the princess,” said Anne, still grinning at her new footwear as she spoke, “the truth is that my dear Broderick is thinking of letting her out, provided she sees reason about this wedding. Colonel Rath is over there right now, explaining the deal to her. Assuming she agrees to play her part—and I’m sure she will—then you’ll be able to see her whenever you want, Earstien help you.”
Lily frowned. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why exactly did I give you my boots, then?”
“You don’t want to sit in the Palm Court on the off chance she wanders by,” said Anne. “You’ll still have more luck getting up there to see her if I write you a letter of introduction for the guards. Though you’d better wait until tomorrow. I’m guessing she’ll be in a bit of a temper after Rath speaks to her. More so than usual, I mean.”
Anne wrote the letter, and Lily dutifully waited until the next day before returning to the castle. As she dressed back at the inn, she asked Pellus if he wanted to go with her.
“Go with you?” he said. “Whatever for? I’m going hunting with the Earl and Countess of Ardenford.”
This was news to Lily—the invitation must have been issued over some card game when she hadn’t been around. “The Lord Chancellor and his wife? Did you want me to come with you?”
“Gods, no. I don’t think they meant to include you.” He said it like she had some sort of loathsome skin disease, and for a moment, she felt about two feet tall.
Then she took a deep breath and, tossing back her hair, said, “Very well. Enjoy your time with the earl. I’m going to see a princess.”