Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
The House of Roet has ruled Alvion for five generations. William Roet, a man with a dubious claim to the throne through his great-uncle, a royal bastard, won the Battle of Stanich with the help of his Jupiter magician and his army of giants.
—THOMAS FEYDON, A HISTORY OF MAGIC IN ALVION
Bess squinted into the dark. “Mistress Bianca?”
I grunted, stretched out a hand and unlatched the wardrobe. Her annoyance flared when she saw me tumble out. A relief, at least, to have my magic again. Tracks of tears had dried onto my cheeks and my eyes were swollen, my body stiff.
Instead of explaining myself, I asked her to help me pack a trunk.
“Where are we going?”
“Lionesse.”
“But why?” She would be silent the entire journey, I was sure, bitter at being separated from the queen. Roland would surely bring all the members of his household, but I had only frowning Bess to accompany me.
“Because Roland said so.” I knew she would accept his authority over mine. With quiet resentment and a curious glint in her eye, she began packing my things.
I sat on a bench in the garden, waiting for him. It was another cold morning. Knee-high fog unfurled along the paths. He parted it when he arrived, the sound of his footsteps scattering birds into high branches.
I felt a tug on my earlobe. “So, how was it? Being me?”
I said nothing. Only pulled my ermine mantle tighter around my shoulders.
But his eyes pinned me down and held me, as if my hands were tied behind my back, my head being lowered slowly onto the block. His magic was dangerous, his beauty a trap that would clench its teeth around me if I lingered too long. When I was a girl, I’d never allowed myself to forget it.
Trusting him might still prove fatal. And yet, I longed to show him the past I’d buried deep. I had never spoken of Hal, never felt safe enough to indulge in memories of him. I struggled to admit the depth of my loss even to myself.
Until the wardrobe, wrapped in the warmth of Roland’s coat.
“Well, Mouse? I’m held in suspense.”
“I was caught,” I said bitterly. “It was a new Moon last night and I forgot. Somehow, I forgot.”
“Kitty saw you?”
I nodded, lowering my head to breathe into my palms for warmth, but he sat beside me and took my hands in his instead. Rubbing them together, he created such friction I no longer shivered. “What happened?”
“I hid in my wardrobe until morning.” I paused, my mind turning to the moment my face had slipped, to the story Kitty had been about to tell. “Why does Fulke despise you?”
“Oh. That.” His tone was dull. “Fulke Roet’s sister, Edith, was one of Gertrude’s ladies. Do you remember her?”
Fair hair like Fulke’s was all I could recall.
“I had just returned from Lionesse,” explained Roland.
“The king, in the early days of our friendship, would give me…” He hesitated with his wording, grinding his teeth.
“Targets. My task was to sense what they wanted most, so he could withhold or twist it to his advantage. Some only wanted ambassadorships, a certain income a year.” Another beat of hesitation.
“And some wanted me. Edith was unfortunate enough to desire me above all else. Before you ask: No, I didn’t love her, and she knew it.
She knew the king ordered me to her bed as a spy, as a way to humiliate Fulke and the faction supporting him.
But she was in a cold, fruitless union, so she sought me out often, despite the danger.
When her husband found us together, arranged by the king, of course, he publicly shamed her and cast her out.
Fulke has never forgiven me for the ruination of his sister, the smear on his family’s name.
My only consolation is that I never used a drop of my magic to do it. ”
He rested his elbows against his knees, hanging his head.
I said his name. Said it again. Finally, he lifted his gaze.
I poured my sorrow and my horror into him.
Words were not enough for what he’d endured—and what he endured still.
For I remembered all the lewd tales. Stories of Roland, chewing the king’s food like a mother bird.
All along, he’d been the king’s instrument. I’d felt slighted when Prospero sent me away to the Staffords, but what if he’d spared me instead?
When I leaned my head against Roland’s shoulder, a low, contented sound rose from his throat. He wrapped his arms around me, pulled me closer. Had we ever touched like this, even as children? No. I would have remembered if we had.
“We are not only devices,” I said against his chest. “We are not only for kings to spin, to learn how they will achieve greatness.”
He glanced down, mouth twitching. His breath stirred my hair. “I have taken lovers simply because I wanted them, you know. The king doesn’t dictate everything I do. And it is easy to see why my acclaim persists. I am, by all accounts, irresistible, chivalrous—”
“Beautiful,” I added, as a guess.
“Beautiful?” He fought against a grin and lost, tucking it into my hair. “Beautiful. Really? Tell me more.”
“I have eyes. I am not saying this partially. I am describing you the way I would—” I pushed out of his embrace and glanced around. “A flower. A statue. Haven’t you been called beautiful your entire life?”
“I’ve never heard it from you.”
“Why must you hear it from me?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Because I value your opinion. There are only a few whose judgment I truly care for, and I think yours is often correct. Most of the time.” He shrugged. “There are many councilors who will heed a loud voice over someone quiet and watchful. I know better.”
“I value your opinion, too,” I said shyly. “Most of the time.”
“We have made strides, haven’t we?”
I composed myself by fiddling with my sleeves. He tracked the motion and made a face, but said nothing of it. “May we discuss Kitty Seton now?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. I’d nearly forgotten. Who did she accuse? I know she accused somebody.”
The subtle accusation lingered still. The name she’d planted so skillfully. “Prospero.”
“Whatever she implied, forget it. She was born under the Scorpion. Her barbs are sharp and for her protection alone.”
“I don’t put much faith in charts anymore. Hal’s was wrong.” I looked up. Through the mist, to the dim constellations, the sky that had blessed us. This morning, Roland’s eyes were just as luminous as Venus—his power stoked and fed by its glow.
“No,” he argued. “We were wrong in our interpretation of it.”
“If we know the future,” I countered, “we won’t react the same way when we’re confronted by it.”
A snort. “Did Prospero tell you that?”
“I told myself that.”
“Yes, along with—what was it? It was so lovely, I shall never forget it. I’d like to carve everything you say into stone. ‘We are not only devices,’” he recited. “‘We are not only—’”
I elbowed his side. Though I’d lent no strength to it, he still mouthed “Ow.”
“Kitty was telling the truth. Prospero and Hal argued the night before Hal’s death.”
Roland frowned. “Hal didn’t want to marry the Bastian princess. I don’t know what else that could have been about.”
“And that’s why I’m convinced Prospero wouldn’t have plotted against Hal. He wanted that alliance desperately. Hal was the key to it. Yet—it is strange. I wonder when Prospero started researching exaltation. If Hal knew what Prospero was up to before he died, or if it all began after Hal was gone.”
He cocked his head. “Whatever do you mean?”
“If his father lived forever, Hal would never be king. Do you think he would have been very happy about that?”
Roland only made an affirming sound, but inside of him, glowing faintly, was admiration. “I need the privy council’s blessing to travel to Lionesse. We’ll hold a meeting at noon. You’ll come?”
“The council room is Saturn-barred. It only allows councilors through. I haven’t said the king’s oath.”
“Oh, I suppose there is an oath, isn’t there?” It took him several moments to recall it. “Kneel.”
I nearly choked. “Now?”
“On your knees, yes.”
I lowered myself to the grass, and he lifted my chin so I would meet his eyes.
When I licked my lips, his gaze wandered recklessly to my mouth.
“The oath is meant to be said alone, in a place sacred to you, but this will have to do. Repeat after me. ‘For Alvion, I take up my sword. For love of King, I become his armor.’” He removed his signet ring and slipped it on my finger.
I held it in place with my thumb. “‘For his Magician, I offer my future. For his issue, I take my axe and clear a path. For Alvion, for love of King, for his Magician, for his issue, I bind myself.’ Say it.”
Chin raised, I recited it. His eyes darkened as he watched. When I finished, a chill, ancient breath moved through my body. The Mercury who had crafted this oath must have done so a thousand years ago.
“Good. It is done,” he said, tearing himself away, releasing my chin. He held out his hand. “Now, I’ll have my ring back.”
Roland sat at the head of the table, sunlight cast behind him like a heavenly throne. Every inch the Venus King, the only flaw purple stains beneath his eyes. Still, he looked so handsome my breath caught in my throat.
A smile played on his lips as he bent to whisper to his treasurer.
The other councilors wore feathered caps and doublets stitched with their family’s sigil and ruling planet—red Mars and azure Jupiter and quicksilver Mercury the most common.
Many were of the old guard who had served the king since he was a boy.
Others were closer to Roland’s age. Tom Guildford looked shocked to see me enter the chamber, but Wyatt Francis welcomed me with a grin and pulled out the chair beside his.
Neither gesture matched their shared suspicion.
“Roland wants to cause a scandal, it seems,” Wyatt said.
“I’m only his advisor.”
“Are you now? That was rather quick.” He leaned closer to study me, draping a hand over the back of my chair. “Roland does like to surround himself with beauty.”
My cheeks reddened. Across the room, Roland cleared his throat.