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The ride up the Trahern from Severn was like a dream. In the mornings, Molly could open the cabin windows and let in the warm spring air as she took her bath. She liked being able to sit in the big brass tub and wave to soldiers as the big barge passed them. No doubt it gave them a thrill to see her like that, even though she never exposed any more of herself than her head, an arm, and possibly her shoulders.
Nearly all of Lukas’s troops were going north this spring. The king wanted all his forces together, apparently, and that meant they would go to Formacaster first, before they set out in one massive army to punish the rebellious dukes of Leornian and Pinshire, and the wicked Duchess Flora. Molly still had nightmares sometimes about being trapped in a burning cart, but going to war this way, on Lukas’s big, gilded barge, was so luxurious that she didn’t feel afraid of the enemy. Traveling this way felt like a honeymoon, not a campaign.
She developed a habit of sleeping in late, leaving breakfast to the men. They always looked so serious over their coffee and scones as they passed around dispatches and maps. At lunch and supper, though, she joined them all in one of the dozen bright new silk dresses that Lukas had bought her.
She presided over the tea and wine, and she kept the conversation going with jokes and questions about their homes and families. They appealed to her to settle questions of fashion and etiquette, and she gave them the benefit of her highly biased opinions. She felt almost like a queen whenever there was a dance on the quarterdeck, and all the officers clamored for her to join them.
But of course she was Lukas’s girl, completely and without reservation. She told him that he was free to do whatever he liked with her, and so he did. But it seemed that what made him happiest was to bring her pleasure. The night before they were to arrive in Formacaster, she lay on the big bunk as he used his tongue and fingers on her. As she felt the climax building, she put her head back, looking out the open window at the stars, and wondered how, of all the girls in Myrcia, she had been the one lucky enough to catch his eye.
Then the next day—the last day of April—they reached the capital, and everything changed. Huge camps of western troops had sprung up around the city, and Lukas suddenly seemed very serious and businesslike again. As captain general, he was responsible for these new armies now, and it looked like he had many days of inspections and meetings to look forward to, while at the same time he tried to get his own men settled into camp.
At the dock, he gave Molly a quick kiss and told her to “Go on up to the castle with the luggage and wait for me.” Then he rode off with the Duke of Oaseshire and two dozen knights, including Quincy.
This wasn’t quite the entry in triumph that Molly had imagined—riding up the long, twisting road to the castle in a luggage cart. She had hoped to enter the Palm Court on Lukas’s arm, with all the ladies of the court looking on, green with envy. All those snobbish ladies who hadn’t said two words to her when she and Quincy had been here before. She was someone of consequence now, and she wanted them to feel that she had gotten her revenge.
She didn’t get her grand entrance—at least not right away. She and the servants of Lukas’s household stopped at the castle kitchen, entered the palace by a side door, and went up to their guest suite by way of a whole labyrinth of back corridors and hidden servants’ stairways.
The king’s deputy chamberlain, who was there to greet them, knew who she was, at least, and was rather polite. “You’ll have a room adjoining his grace’s,” the man said. “Of course, if her grace, Duchess Carrine, should decide to join the duke here, we might need to move you elsewhere. But I think this will be acceptable for the time being.”
They were on the fourth floor—the same as the royal family—and Molly had to fight the urge to go take a peek into the king’s private study or look through Princess Donella’s wardrobes. She sat on the outside balcony for a while, watching ships sailing on the rivers. Then, when she was bored with that, she sat on the inside balcony, overlooking the Palm Court, and watched courtiers and soldiers scurry around down there.
At last, well after lunch (which the servants brought up), Lukas returned. His clothes were dusty and he looked exhausted, so Molly had the servants bring a bath, after which he dressed in his finest gold-embroidered court clothes. He told her to pick her best dress, too. She opted for a blue one with yellow and gold embroidery on the bodice. There was a little gold belt that went with it, too, and together, it probably made up the most expensive outfit she’d ever owned in her life.
They went down to the Palm Court together, Molly on Lukas’s arm like she was his lawful wife. He introduced her to a great many knights whose names she promptly forgot. When he got to men and women with higher titles, she started paying attention. Some of the women were visibly uncomfortable talking to her. But she didn’t care. Fuck them. She was here, and they couldn’t ignore her any longer.
At last they got to the throne room, where Lukas presented Molly to his sister, Queen Muriel. The queen had on a silver gown of shimmering silk, with black beads and lace at the collar and cuffs. Molly felt suddenly very self-conscious about her own dress, which was nowhere near as lovely.
“So this is your new girl, Lukas?” asked the queen. Her cold blue eyes scoured Molly from head to foot. Then she looked at her brother. “I hadn’t realized your tastes had gotten so...provincial in your old age. Tell me, Miss Coburn, do you have any accomplishments?”
“I...I can dance rather well, your majesty.”
“She can dance,” chuckled the queen. “How utterly charming. Well done, Lukas. She is, at least, of genteel birth, which is a step up from all those bar wenches you’ve impregnated. What about you, Miss Coburn? Has my brother knocked you up yet?”
Molly felt her face burn. “I don’t believe so, your majesty.”
“You ‘don’t believe so.’ Well, Lukas, perhaps that’s something else that’s failing in your old age. Welcome back to court, Miss Coburn. Don’t get too comfortable. My brother has a roving eye.”
Molly had never felt so utterly humiliated in her entire life. As Lukas led her back to the Palm Court for a drink, she almost wanted to punch him in the face for exposing her to insults like that. “You could have warned me at least,” she fumed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“No warning is sufficient for Muriel,” said Lukas. “You have to experience her first-hand. If it makes you feel any better, she seems to like you.”
“She likes me?” cried Molly. “She said the most horrid things about me.”
“Her barbs were aimed at me,” he said gently, “not at you. Muriel and I have a...complicated relationship. No, if she’d hated you, she would have had you thrown out of the castle immediately.”
Molly wasn’t sure that her fate was any better than being tossed out. The humiliations kept going on and on. That evening, at the welcome feast out in the festival pavilion, she was placed at the very lowest table, as far from Lukas as she could possibly be. Even Lukas’s squires were seated higher than she was. Yes, both of them were the sons and heirs of noblemen, but they were barely old enough to shave. Surely she ought to rank higher than boys who hadn’t even been knighted yet.
Her companions at the lowest table were a silk merchant who was related to the lord mayor somehow, a professor from the university, and two nuns. Only the silk merchant did much talking—Molly got the feeling that he didn’t get invited to feasts at the castle very often, and that this was a big treat for him. The professor and the nuns ate in stolid silence, not looking up and not trying to engage anyone in conversation.
After dessert, people got up and circulated a bit, and Molly wondered if it would be appropriate for her to go up to the high table and join Lukas now. He was laughing with a countess to his right. Was that something she should be concerned about?
Her eye fell on a handsome, bearded young man in a silver surcoat making his way down the rows of tables, carrying a pitcher of wine in his hand and offering refills to any who needed them. Here and there, he engaged the guests in conversation, always laughing and chatting happily. To her surprise, she realized it was the crown prince, Broderick the Younger.
She expected the prince to stop his tour of the tables long before he got to hers, but in a minute, he was standing before her, offering a drink.
“I’d love one,” she said, holding out her cup.
He filled it, then set down the pitcher. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”
“Um...no, not at all, your royal highness. This is your home, after all.”
“It’s just that we haven’t been formally introduced, Miss Coburn, and I wouldn’t like you to think I’m being rude.” He smiled. “I heard you were here with my Uncle Lukas, and I wanted to meet you.”
“You did?” she said warily. Was he about to insult her the way his mother had?
“Yes. I wanted to make sure you feel welcome. My mother can be a bit brusque, and I wanted you to know that any friend of my uncle’s is a friend of mine.”
He held out his hand and, after a moment, she shook it.
“Thank you, your royal highness.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve heard very good things about your brother, Sir Quincy. He’s quite the soldier, apparently.”
“Thank you. It’s very kind of you to remember him.”
“Now, I think Lukas is supposed to be meeting with my father after supper, but if you’d like, I can take you around and introduce you to some people—to the good people, I mean. The ones who won’t sneer at you for not being rich or noble enough for them.” His eyes drifted away from hers, and he took in the other people near them. Then his eyebrows went up. “Speaking of which....” He leaned across the table and waved his hand to attract the attention of one of the nuns. “Hello, Morwen. I didn’t know you were here!”
The nun looked up, startled, and Molly saw that she was quite pretty, in spite of that awful veil and wimple.
“Hello, your royal highness,” said the nun, with a modest bow of her head. Then she smiled at Molly and said, “I’m Sister Morwen Byrne.”
Molly didn’t have much of a memory, even for court gossip, but she remembered someone mentioning once that the eldest daughter of the Duchess of Keneburg had gone into a convent for some reason.
The prince introduced Molly to Morwen as “a friend of the family,” and told Molly that he and Morwen had gone to Atherton together.
Apparently the nuns were at the castle to clear up some sort of tax dispute with the lord treasurer’s office. The prince offered to have a word with the treasurer personally, and the nun said that would be very kind, “although I think our account books will make the case more than adequately.”
For some minutes, they all talked about the nun’s convent, which was somewhere in Keneshire called Erstenwell. The prince seemed fascinated by the descriptions of life there, but it bored Molly. It was very nice that some women found solace in places like that, but thank Earstien she wasn’t one of them. She was relieved when the other nun, who was older and much less pretty, put her foot down and said that she and Morwen needed to go say their prayers or something. The two of them left, and Molly felt a bit like someone had opened a window in a stuffy room.
“Amazing woman,” said Prince Broderick, watching as the nuns made their way out of the festival pavilion. “I’ve never quite understood why she went into that convent, but I suppose as long as she’s happy there, that’s the important thing.”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t understand how anyone could be happy, living like that.”
“Me either. But luckily, we don’t have to.” He stood up and held out a hand. “Well, I did promise to introduce you around. Care to join me?”
“Nothing would please me more,” she said, standing and taking his arm.
As he had promised, he was much better than Lukas at introducing her to people who weren’t so blasted stuck up. Mostly they were artists and musicians and actors—people who hadn’t even been invited into the festival pavilion and were obliged to eat standing from trestle tables in the garden. Broderick was clearly well-liked and smart, and he had a wide variety of interests. Not to mention the fact that he was quite handsome and well-built.
The thought occurred to Molly, somewhere in the middle of her fourth glass of wine, that she might try to trade in the uncle for the nephew. With a sly smile, she even asked the prince for a tour of his apartments at the castle.
He chuckled, patted her hand, and said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’ve got dirty laundry everywhere.” After that, he pretended she hadn’t mentioned it, and she decided it might be best if she pretended, as well.
Much later, when she was finally getting ready for bed and Lukas returned from his meeting with the king, she told him about her evening with the prince.
“Ah, Broderick,” said Lukas. “He was my squire for a while. Nice boy, but a bit of a prude. He and his sister, both. I have no idea where they get it from.” Then he grabbed Molly and pulled her into bed.