Chapter 2 The First Root
The east gallery, one minute after sunset.
“Lord Maeron.”
“Highness.” The Chief Advisor stopped mid stride, a lantern in one hand and two Silver Guards at his back. He was lean and grey and perfectly polite. “You are out late.”
“So are you. You look like a man hunting for someone.”
“In my position, someone is always being hunted.” His eyes were very mild. “Was there something?”
“It is probably nothing.” Athalia lowered her gaze. “My sister skipped lessons today. She said she had a headache, but she was not in her room.”
“Ah.”
“The stable boys have been strange with her. Grinning at their boots. I would not mention it, only...”
“Only you are worried.”
“Only I am worried.”
Maeron studied her a moment longer than courtesy allowed. “The stables,” he said.
“I would hate to be unkind.”
“You are not being unkind, Highness. You are being observant.” A small bow. “I will see she is found before anyone less discreet does.”
He walked away, lantern swinging. Athalia stayed at the window until his footsteps faded. Her hands were steady. That was the frightening part. It had felt exactly like breathing.
The stable, ten minutes later.
“You came,” said Fredric.
“I said I would.”
“You say a lot of things.” He took both her hands. His were warm, rough from reins. “I spent all afternoon sure you would change your mind.”
“I did. Twice.” Arianna tried to smile and failed. “Fredric, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer before you start joking.”
“That serious?”
“Run away with me.”
The words fell into the straw and lay there.
“Ari.”
“Anywhere. Seatopia. The southern coast. Somewhere nobody cares who we are.” She was talking too fast. “Your father will never allow it. He will marry you to some northern duchess and send me back to my kingdom and I'll be somebody’s useful wife, and I would rather...”
“Hey. Look at me.”
She looked.
“I will not run,” he said. “Not because I do not want you. Because if I run, you spend the rest of your life as the girl who made a prince abandon his family. I will not do that to you. I would rather go to my father tomorrow and ask him properly.”
“He will say no.”
“Then I will ask again. I am very stubborn when it matters. It is my one virtue.”
She laughed, wet and shaky, and pressed her forehead to his shoulder.
The lantern light swept across the doorway.
“Your Highnesses.”
Maeron stood in the door with two Silver Guards behind him. His voice was as smooth as a knife drawn slowly from a sheath. “I regret the interruption.”
Fredric stepped in front of Arianna. “Maeron, this is not what it looks like.”
“I am sure it is entirely innocent. But there are two guards here, and guards, Highness, are people who talk.”
“How did you know to look here?” Arianna whispered.
“A concerned member of the household.”
“Who?”
“I am afraid I am not at liberty to say.”
The throne room, next morning.
“Explain yourselves.”
King Jeremy sat on the dais gripping the arms of his chair. He was a big man gone heavy with age, with a grey beard and a famously short temper. Beside him sat Queen Elizabeth, pale and upright. Below them stood Fredric and Arianna, not touching. Adrian leaned against a pillar with his arms folded. Athalia stood beside him, hands folded, eyes down.
“It is my fault, Father,” Fredric began.
“I did not ask whose fault. I asked for an explanation.”
“I love her. I want to marry her. I was going to come to you today.”
“You were going to come to me. After sneaking into a stable with a ward of this house, at night, in front of the Silver Guard.” The king’s face went dark red. “Do you know what they will say? That the king’s son ruined a princess in a barn. That I cannot control my own household.”
“Nothing happened,” Arianna said, steadier than she felt. “We only talked, Your Majesty. I swear it.”
“Nobody will care what happened. They will care what it looks like.” He slumped. “Maeron. Advice.”
“Two options, Majesty. The princess may be sent away quietly and the scandal allowed to die. Or it may be answered with the one thing a scandal cannot survive.”
“Which is?”
“A betrothal.”
The word dropped like a stone into a well.
“The prince is the younger son,” Maeron went on, “and his brother is not yet betrothed. It would be improper for the younger to marry first. Unless both houses were bound at once.”
Athalia’s head came up.
“Both?” said the queen softly.
“The Lady Athalia is of age, and of equal rank. Two brothers. Two sisters. The court sees a union of houses, not a girl caught in a stable.” Maeron inclined his head. “It is tidy.”
She had expected Arianna to be sent away. She had expected an empty corridor and a clean break. She had not expected this, and for one frozen second she felt her whole plan slide out from under her feet.
“It is an insult,” said Adrian.
Every head turned. He had not spoken all morning.
“I mean no disrespect to Lady Athalia. But she should not be handed to me as a repair. Neither should I be handed to her.”
“Adrian.” The king’s voice was weary. “You are twenty one. Your brother made a mess and you are the one who cleans it. That is what an elder son is for.”
Athalia watched something go out of Adrian’s face, like a candle being quietly set down.
“Lady Athalia. Have you any objection?”
She could say yes. She could weep, or protest, or let her silence say it. A dozen choices lay open like cards on a table.
She looked at Fredric. He was gazing at her sister.
She looked at Adrian. He stared at the floor like a man handed a debt he never borrowed.
And something cold and quick and clear turned over in her chest and began to count. Fredric would marry Arianna. Nothing in this room could change that now. But Fredric was the younger son. He would never be king. Adrian would. And whoever stood beside Adrian would sit on that throne too.
“I have no objection, Your Majesty,” she said.
She was surprised how steady it sounded.
“I would be honoured.”
When she rose from her curtsy, she met Adrian’s eyes. He looked startled, like a man who had expected to be refused and did not know what to do with being wanted. She smiled at him the way you smile at a frightened horse.
The corridor, after.
“Athalia.” Arianna caught her sleeve. “I am so sorry. I never meant for you to be dragged into this.”
“I know.”
“Are you angry?”
“No.” Athalia kissed her forehead. Her lips were cool. “I am happy for you, darling. Truly.”
Arianna sagged with relief, hugged her hard, and went off smiling through tears.
Athalia let her face fall, just for a moment, into the shape it really wore.
“I will be queen,” she said, very softly. “And I will not let my sister take one more thing that belongs to me.”
“A fine ambition.”
She turned.
Maeron stood in the shadow of an archway with his hands folded behind his back. She had not heard him come.
“My lord?”
“I only wished to say that I have an excellent memory for useful information, Highness.” He smiled, thin and pleasant. “And an even better one for who provides it.”
Her blood went cold. “I do not know what you mean.”
“Exactly,” said Maeron. “That is why we shall get along.”
He bowed, and walked away, and left her alone in the empty hall with her own heartbeat.
