Holo grimaced. “Nothing will ever convince Orkid Gravespear to view the Twenty Houses with anything but spite.”
“We may work on him through Sendarus. Win over the prince consort, and we may in time win over both the queen and the chancellor. But first we must prove our loyalty.”
Holo looked offended. “No one has ever doubted our loyalty to Kendra!”
“True, but many have doubted our loyalty to Usharna and her family. We must rectify that. What is a kingdom without a throne? And what is a throne without a monarch?” He smiled easily at his father. “And what is a monarch without nobles?”
Father Powl had left his position of honor among the invited guests soon after Areava and Sendarus’ entrance. He strolled among the common people who had made it to the throne room, listening to their excited babbling. They were so proud of their queen, and more than one was already making comparison between Areava and her mother.
The priest could not help feeling a sense of pride at the queen’s popularity. He had been her confessor for a long time and liked to think he had helped her mature into adulthood. Their relationship had been a formal one, but for all that he had learned intimate details about her life, and had a good idea about how her mind worked. He knew she was good at heart, strict with herself and others, disciplined, short-tempered, with few vices. True, her capacity for hatred had been unknown to him until Lynan had killed Berayma, and he was surprised how much her prejudice against her brother had fed that hatred. But he was certain that in her core she was a good woman of noble purpose.
He watched farmers and tanners, cooks and cleaners, carpenters and clothmakers all bustling among one another to get a glimpse of their beautiful monarch and her handsome consort. They liked the idea of her marrying outside of the Twenty Houses, just as they had been overjoyed when Usharna had married a commoner like them. It gave them the feeling that they, too, shared in some of the queen’s power, had some stake in the kingdom.
Father Powl was not so naive to think Areava did not realize the political advantage of courting the commoners, but he knew she also had a deep affection for and pride in them. Theirs was a happy union that not only predated her marriage to Sendarus but one that may ultimately prove more important for her reign.
He stopped his wandering, lost for a moment in his reflections. Power could came from the most unlikely source, but only those with the wisdom and perspicacity to seize it would profit by it. He studied his hands and wished he had endured a harder youth. There was something wrong in such soft palms, such uncallused fingers, holding the influence he knew he now possessed. He should have been raised in a logging camp or in a fishing village or on a farm; perhaps he would have been if his unknown parents had not left him as a swaddling babe at the door of a chapel of the Righteous God. But all his life he had been cloistered from such labor, protected from the toil and danger the common people endured to support the state. He was not feeling guilt, it was deeper than that. He felt undeserving.
Favored by circumstance, once patroned by the Primate himself, made Areava’s confessor, and now with the ear of the chancellor and holder of secrets that placed him near the middle of an intricate political web, he felt utterly undeserving.
Olio refused the wine a servant offered him.
That’s twice this afternoon. I must be doing all right. His hands shook a little, and he would have done almost anything for a drink, but seeing his sister’s happiness made it easier for him.
Don’t make the effort for yourself. Make it for her.
People said things to him, and he said things in return, but only moments afterward he could not remember what words had been spoken. He hoped he had not promised half the kingdom to some supplicant from Lurisia or Hume. It seemed to him he was drifting through the throne room, walking on air. He wondered if the light-headedness was caused by his deprivation of alcohol or some side effect of the Key of Healing. He fingered the amulet. It rested cold against his skin. Cold and heavy.
At one point the burly King Marin put his arm around him and gave him a bear hug. “If your sister is now my daughter-in-law, does that make you my son-in-law?”
“As m—m—much as the idea appeals to me,” Olio replied gently, “I don’t think it works quite like that.”
“Ah, I think you’re right. Pity. You could have called me ‘father.’ ” Marin laughed suddenly, and Olio pretended to join him. Marin went off, looking for someone else to grin at.
I wonder if he’s had too much to drink? Olio wondered. He suspected Marin never got drunk, and he felt a twinge of envy.
He saw Areava and Sendarus walking from group to group, thanking them for their wishes. They leaned against each other the whole time, holding hands, giving each other a kiss now and then, their eyes as bright as lamps. A feeling of relief washed through him.
Areava has him now to draw on for strength. My failures are diminished.
The thought made him feel edgy, as if he was giving in too easily to his own demons. Without thinking, he glanced around for the rest of his family; the realization that he and Areava were all that were left sent a ripple of nausea through his stomach.
No, there is still Lynan. Somewhere.
The nausea did not go away.
Afterward, Marin invited Orkid to his rooms. There, with the servants sent away, the two brothers and Amemun sat in deep comfortable chairs with some bottles of fine Storian wine on a small table between them. As soon as they had sat, Orkid and Amemun started talking about the new political situation now that Sendarus was married to the ruler of Grenda Lear. Marin sat silent, pretending to listen, content to gaze quietly at the face of his only brother, a man he had not seen for many, many years. When Orkid asked the king a question without receiving a reply, Amemun told Marin to stop being so maudlin.
“You haven’t lost Sendarus, your Majesty. And soon, if the union is blessed, you will have grandchildren to worry about.”
“I am not feeling maudlin, old friend,” Marin said seriously. He looked around the room. “I do not like this place.”
Orkid glanced up in surprise. “I must be used to it,” he said.
“It is not the palace, brother. It is who lives in and around it. All day I have been feeling the stares of a hundred Kendrans bore into my back. I have an itch I cannot reach right between my shoulder blades.” He leaned forward suddenly and grasped one of Orkid’s hands. “My son will be safe here?”
Orkid sighed deeply. “As safe as anywhere except Pila itself. I will protect him, Marin, although I suspect Areava herself will make sure my protection is unnecessary.”
Marin rested back in his seat and nodded glumly. “She is a fine-looking woman, and strong,” he admitted. “But I don’t like the nobles, and some of the officials—like that mayor whatsisname—”
“Shant Tenor.”
“—Mayor Shant Tenor and his ilk make me want to take to them with my ax.”
“Would it help if I told you that Areava feels the same way?”
Marin waved his hand. “I know all that. I read your reports myself, Orkid, whatever you may think.”
“I never doubted it.”
“This place is askew,” Marin said urgently, his body stiffening. “There is something wrong about it, something deep.”
“It is an ancient place of intrigues and plots,” Orkid said. Berayma’s dead face flickered in his memory and he could not help wincing. “Nothing here is ever quite what it seems.”
“They must come to Pila,” Marin said.
“Who?”
“Sendarus and his bride, of course.”
“Need I remind you that this is the capital of the kingdom, not Pila.”