After the twelve nobles had kissed the new king’s hand and sworn their oaths, Evard named Tomas Champion of Leire, the most coveted honor in the realm. The Champion answered any personal challenge made to the king. It was perhaps the only royal office awarded on merit alone. My heart swelled with pride. How I wished my father had lived to see him so honored.
Tomas, dressed in white and gold, quite looked the part. He was as tall and commanding a presence as our father had been, who had been considered the epitome of the gallant soldier. My brother’s hair was the same deep red-brown color as my own, shining and thick as it framed his handsome features: straight nose, dark brown eyes, and a battle scar on his jaw just large enough to make court ladies sigh at his bravery. Maybe there was a little too much of the indulged boy-child in his curling lip, but he was intelligent. He would grow into his power and see Evard’s flaws. Perhaps his influence with the new king would help moderate those flaws.
When Tomas took his place beside Evard, he leaned over and whispered in his friend and liege’s ear. Evard smiled indulgently. He sprawled on the gilded throne as if it had been his from the moment of his birth instead of for a mere quarter of an hour. He waved his hand to get the attention of the assembly, then nodded in my direction. “This fair young lady has asked for public audience upon this occasion, and it is our delight to hear her.”
Now to me. There would be no turning back. I could be queen if I wanted. I could submit to the authority of my brother and the desires of his friend, and no one would ever take me to task for it. It was the singular expectation of a woman of privilege—to marry according to her family’s wishes rather than her own. I would not be held responsible for Evard’s character except in my own mind. After a few years I could most likely take a lover. Evard wasn’t single-minded in that regard even now, and I knew how things worked in royal circles. But that was not the life I wanted. Martin had opened up the world to me, and I was not willing to abandon his gift.
So I stepped forward and curtsied, pulled a manuscript from my sleeve, and proclaimed to the assembly that I was making petition of His Most Gracious Majesty King Evard upon his Coronation Day, according to the provision of the Westover Codex known as the Grant of the Favored Ten. Because my parents who would guard the welfare of their only daughter were dead, and because my brother, whom I honored, was almost of an age with me, I petitioned that I be freed from the traditional duties of a subordinate female and be allowed to choose my life’s partner for myself.
Evard had to grant my petition. No one at court could fail to know that I had been intended for him and that my petition was a product of my disdain. But for that very reason, he had to be magnanimous. Better to be thought spurned by a proud and willful female than to let anyone know he cared. Many a man in the same position would bully the woman he desired into marriage, but I knew how Evard’s mind worked. He would get his revenge some subtler way.
With strained good humor, the king proclaimed, “It is difficult for us to imagine a determined young lady such as yourself ever entering into an arrangement counter to your desires. The unlucky gentleman would rue the day, we have no doubt.” The assembly laughed uneasily. “As an impartial observer and your longtime friend and well-wisher,” he continued, “we would caution you to heed the advice of your brother, who is perhaps wiser in the ways of the world than a sheltered young lady such as yourself. Whims such as this one can have consequences beyond a moment’s gratification. But we can see no reason to deny your petition. Let it be so written.”
With a flick of his hand I was dismissed. It was a good thing I had no designs on any courtier. Evard had surely dampened my prospects with his remarks. I had a gracious response prepared, but someone else was already making his obeisance, speaking of dispatching messengers to the Leiran troops to pass on the joyous news of King Evard’s ascension to the throne. The line of petitioners, grovelers, and well-wishers stretched all the way through the hall and into the outer ward.
My eyes cast down, I curtsied deeply and backed away into the murmuring crowd. I felt like flying to the ceiling with the pigeons, like leaping atop the long, curved Council tables and crowing like the gold and russet hawks who soared above the roofs at Comigor. I dared not look at Martin or Tennice, lest I burst out laughing or fling myself into their arms and bless them for their gifts. After a suitable time of humble attention to the proceedings—of which I heard not a single word—I worked my way to the back of the crowd and slipped out one of the many side doors to the hall. People were jammed up to every door, willing to suffer crushed toes and bruised elbows to provide themselves with a glimpse of history to carry though their lives— or at least through the next dinner party. I had scarcely made my way through the door when I felt a firm hand on my elbow. “Darzid!”
“Your brother requires your presence, my lady.” To my surprise, the dark, deep-set eyes of Tomas’s aide glittered with amusement. Did Tomas know his aide took so light a view of my rebellion?
“I’d have thought Tomas would be too busy with his new duties to have time for family visits.”
“Oh, no. He’s asked me especially to bring you to him. Need I say that he has a most ah… pressing… desire to have a word with you? Would this be a good time for us to run away together, do you think? You will reap his wrath for an hour, but I have to fight beside the man!”
Despite his smiles and mischievous humor, Darzid’s gentlemanly touch brought me back to earth. My visions fled. My wings felt ripped away, my hawk’s feathers plucked. I jerked loose from him and smoothed my gown, disheveled by the press of the crowd. “If Tomas thinks to change my mind, he’s mistaken.”
“I make no estimates of his expectations, my lady. I’ll confess that after this day’s events, I would not set myself up to predict any action of yours. You’re even more interesting than the young woman I’ve come to admire so deeply over the past years.” He swept his hand indicating a path down a broad corridor to the left, and then offered me his arm.
Somehow, I could not bear the thought of touching him again, and so I shoved past him. “Remember your place, Captain.”
Darzid bowed and led me to a small, luxuriously furnished sitting room. “I’d recommend you remain here until the duke is able to attend to you.” His expression did not register my rudeness. His smile did not change, nor the amused glint in his eyes. He bowed again and closed the door behind him.
I was left to occupy myself with an ivory and jade chessboard. Fingering the exquisite pieces, lost in thoughts of Windham and those who played there, I wondered what I might have to do to keep my friends out of harm’s way. If naught else, Darzid had wakened caution. No attention must be directed anywhere near Karon.
An hour later, Tomas burst through the gilded door. “There you are.” His face convulsed with fury. “What damnable perversity has made you do this to me?”
I was prepared to hold my tongue, to do whatever I could to mend the rift I’d caused or at least do nothing to make it unmendable. Tomas and I had no family but each other, no aunts or uncles, no one any closer than distant cousins like Martin. But my brother was not to be placated.
“Have I not let you have your way all these years? Have I been extraordinarily cruel or brutal, that you should humiliate me so despicably? Our father must be crying out from the grave at the disgrace you’ve brought on our house this day.” He strode to the center of the room, spun on his heel, and glared at me. “It’s Martin, isn’t it? He’s put you up to it. The Westover Codex… faugh! The self-righteous prig, thinking he’s got the only mote of intelligence in the universe. This is how he takes his pitiful revenge, befouling all of us because the better man won. He’s not strong enough or brave enough to face Evard on his own, so he manipulates a fool of a girl to do his dirty work for him.”