Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

TRESSYA

Feeling unable to handle the choking confines of the ballroom, I walked further along the balcony. A thin sliver of glowing candlelight slanting across the ground drew me closer. I found a narrow gap in the heavy drapes and peered through. In the dim candlelight, I saw a large bookshelf reaching to the ceiling, crammed to bursting. A library was just the place I longed to be right now, so I tried the latch on the window and found it unlocked.

I was halfway through opening the window when a man inside the room spoke.

"We have the Earl's backing," the voice was dry and crackling.

"We need more than his backing. We need it written down. Leverage. That way, we're assured he'll fulfill his promise," the other voice was forceful and rough. The man sounded younger than the first.

"Getting it will delay our plans. He's unlikely to oblige."

"Then it's delayed. I refuse to take the risk. If there's the slightest problem, he'll betray us to save his skin."

"We can't delay." There was a third man in the room. "King Henricus is pushing the wedding forward. Juel and his bride will leave Tolum for their honeymoon. We must have our men in place before then."

Someone chuckled. "I doubt the prince will be willing to travel with his new bride. Unless he keeps that whore, Lady Astaria, hidden in his trunk somewhere to ease his aches." It was the forceful younger man.

The rest of them laughed.

I closed my eyes as I ground my jaw.

"Something must be wrong with the prince if they've stooped low enough to accept a bastard as a queen." It was an old, dry voice, coming from a man I envisioned to look little better than aged parchment.

I wrinkled my nose, then pressed my lips firmly. Curses, it hurt to hear that word, even if I'd heard it uttered repeatedly my entire life. Please, let its jabs fade from my heart.

"And one that isn't even fine to look at," said the younger man.

"That's easily fixed. You simply blow out the candle," came the third voice, and they all laughed.

The creak of the library door opening cut their laughter short.

"Forgive me, gentlemen, I had no idea you were all hiding away from the ball."

Andriet. My heart raced.

"Your Highness," came the voice of the third man. It sounded as though he was trying to rise from his seat.

"There's no need to leave on my behalf. I'm completely danced out. We can all share a brandy and have a good chat."

"Your Highness. I'm sorry, but I must head back to the ball."

"No need to apologize, Lord Dowel. Besides, I think your wife needs rescuing. Lord Trevel had her caught in his arms for most of the night, and he seems intent on refusing her a breath. She's still smiling and laughing, so I guess she's enjoying herself."

"'Er, what? Excuse me," Lord Dowel barked. His footsteps hurried from the room.

"What do you say, gentlemen, shall we?—"

"I have something I wish to say to the Earl. Good evening, Your Highness," said the younger man. And he too departed, along with the third older man with the dry, crackling voice, or so it sounded as more than one set of footfalls vacated the room. The door closed with a heavy clunk. Next, I heard Andriet's voice dimming as he disappeared with the two remaining noblemen.

I deliberated with myself about climbing through the window for two breaths, then I hiked up my layers of skirt and did just that. It wasn't easy, but I made it through with a good deal of fumbling and puffing.

Once inside, I headed for the hearth, only to hear fabric rip. I turned to see the trail of lace I left behind. Shrugging, I bent and finished dismantling my hem, then balled up the material and headed for the fire. The flames burned through the lace, fanning the flares into a welcoming glow.

Slumping into a large leather chair, I thought about all I'd overheard. It was a treasonous plot. No surprise. Every royal court had them. Such a shame I knew only one of their names, but I would remember their voices, and I was sure Andriet suspected something was going on between them.

And what was I to do about the Razohan?

"What is she doing in here? This library is a place for gentlemen," came the aggrieved male voice behind me.

"She is in my chair," announced another.

"Did you see how she got in here?" came a third. "Through the window. What sort of?—"

I lurched up from the chair and spun to find three spirits hovering behind my chair. Would I ever find time on my own tonight?

"She is looking at us," declared a reedy gentleman, dressed in richly adorned yet antiquated fashion.

"Do not be absurd," said the man next to him, half a head shorter than his companion, and half a body rounder. "The woman cannot be looking at us. She is simply looking in our direction, more likely something behind us has caught her attention."

"No. The lady is definitely looking at us," said the third, who was dressed less fine than the other two.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I am looking at you."

"Stars and fire," cried the third man. "She is talking to us."

I groaned as I slumped down into the chair once more. Spiritseeing was turning into an annoying talent. With time, I'm sure I would learn how to control my new ability by shutting them out of my mind to call upon them at will. That way, I would keep these pesky spirits from interfering with my peace.

It took the three noblemen little time to recover from their surprise. They drifted through the furniture to stand in front of me, staring down at me like I was the half-beast.

"Are you sure she—" said the third spirit.

"I can see you, hear you, and talk to you."

"Mercy. That is unheard of," cried the tall, reedy spirit.

"So too in Merania, for some time now. That I'm now a spiritseer is thanks to the Mother. I'm sure of it."

"What do you suppose she is talking about?" said the tall spirit.

"A spiritseer? I can see and talk to spirits. So, gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable. I have questions I want to ask."

"I beg your pardon," the shorter spirit huffed. "That is my chair. And this room is strictly?—"

"Shut up, Albert. The lady can speak to us. How that is, I cannot say. But after all this time…" The man with the less distinguished clothes sunk to the rug. If his lower half were better formed, he would be cross-legged on the floor. "This is a miracle."

"What's your name?" I said.

The man sitting in front of me wafted up to his full height again and bowed. "Forgive me, your ladyship, I am Sir Truett Monbasora. This is Earl Albert Elvistan. And finally, Lord Borrat Wickenbro. This is quite the honor."

"Do not fall all over yourself, man. Have some self-respect," Albert said as he lowered himself down into the seat next to me, his lower half sinking through the leather cushion.

I entwined my fingers and rested them on my lap. "Gentlemen, let's get down to business. What can you tell me about the discussion of the three men who recently vacated this room?"

"Wait. Wait. Wait. Your ladyship, with all respect, you must give us time to recover from our shock. This is a tremendous moment. We have been stuck here for centuries, or longer, without a chance to touch the world beyond. And here you are," Truett said.

Albert tutted and rolled his eyes. "Get a hold of yourself before the lady laughs at you." He drew a hand to his mouth, then sighed as he dropped his arm to his lap. "Oh, how I want my pipe. After all this time, it is the one thing I miss."

"Albert, old chap, you are a lucky dead man if that is all you crave," Borrat said.

"I'm sorry, but I can't fulfill that wish," I said to Albert as Truett floated across the floor toward me. He would be crawling if he had legs. Instead, it appeared as though he was dragging his lower half behind him.

"Stop right there," I held up a finger. "You'll keep your hands to yourself."

"Please, lady, I just want to see if I can feel you."

"You can't. But I can feel you when you touch me. And it's not pleasant." I shivered at the memory of passing through Scregs and the other spirits before I plunged into the ocean. "Talking to you is as close as we'll ever get."

The fire cracked and sent up a fine spray of red sparks up the chimney.

Borrat lowered himself onto the small wood table beside my chair. "What is your name, my lady?"

"Tressya."

Truett gasped. "The princess."

"Who is that? Why do I not know about this?" Albert demanded.

"You have buried your business for too long below the stairs with the servants. Namely one servant, to be exact," replied Truett. "You pervert."

"She is dishonest and disloyal and needs a firm hand. If I were?—"

"You are not. You are dead and have been so for a very long time," Truett rolled his eyes.

Borrat turned on Truett. "And you are little better. You did not even know who she was at first sight."

"Neither did you," Truett snapped back. "But you are her, am I right? The bride of Crown Prince Juel?"

"Yes. But, gentlemen, please. Have your arguments another time. I'm more interested in what Lord Dowel and his companions were talking about."

"We choose not to divulge such things," Albert settled himself back in his chair, only to partially sink through. It wasn't hard to guess that he was one of those noblemen who saw a clear line, forged by privilege alone, between the deserving and undeserving.

"Why not?"

"We do not interfere with the intrigues of the living."

"Because you haven't been able to until now."

"Huh. She has you there," Truett said.

"We simply allow them to play their games and watch each triumph or fall. It is the way of life. There are always winners and losers. As spirits, it is not our responsibility to govern their destinies."

As a spiritweaver, it would be within my power to command these spirits to answer me. Instead, I would have to win him to my side.

"I believe I'm in your seat, Lord Albert." I rose and strode to the fire, taking my time to stare into the flames. When I turned around, Albert had taken his seat and crossed his legs, staring up at me with a satisfied expression.

"As a woman, my head is full of balls and gowns and all manner of pretty things. What would I know about treasonous talk?"

"To be sure, princess, that is what it is," Borrat interjected.

"Lord Borrat, you are a fool," Albert drawled. "A lady, especially a princess, should never concern herself with the affairs of men." He shifted his gaze to me. "As the wife of the crown prince, your place is beside your husband, your duty to him likewise. It is unseemly to act otherwise."

"I see your wisdom, Lord Albert. But isn't it my duty to ensure the stability of my husband's reign and, therefore, do what I must, feeble as I may be, to protect the House of Tannard? A quiet word in my husband's ear, perhaps?"

"What she says has merit," Borrat said.

"Yes, but we cannot have women believing they can influence the ways of their husbands, especially when he is the crown prince. Imagine, next they will think to insert themselves within the council and dictate the laws. Mercy knows what would happen to the legacy my forefathers and I left behind were it to end up in the hands of women."

If I were a spiritweaver, I would force Lord Albert to choke on his words.

"I understand your fears. I can assure you I am ill-qualified and lack any interest in such responsibility. However, imagine the praise the Crown Prince would receive in uncovering a treasonous plot. I would, of course, ensure he stumbled on the information seemingly by chance, happy as I would be to remain in my husband's shadow."

Albert folded his arms as he eyed me.

"They are planning to force the king to abdicate," Truett said.

"Hold your tongue, man," barked Albert.

"Interesting, Sir Truett. Thank you for?—"

"The Earl of Vaelorin is of my line," Albert said.

"And a traitor," snapped Truett.

"Who is not a traitor?" Albert sighed. "It is how I lost my head."

Borrat huffed as he looked at me. "It is in the blood."

"Gentlemen, please. Such gossip is spinning my head." I moved over to the chair Albert had vacated in favor of his and eased myself into it. "For a treasonous plot, many would be involved. I may not be able to keep up with all you're saying, seeing as I'm unaccustomed to understanding such complex matters. Maybe you should start from the beginning."

Borrat leaned forward. "The king has gathered his fair share of dissenters. Many lords are fed up with his taxes, the unfair land laws, and the queen's gambling debts and expensive tastes. Need I go on? It is the curse of all who rule."

"Can you be specific about this treasonous plot? I fear too much talk will confuse me," I asked.

Albert sighed. "Their plan is quite simple. They wish to force the king's abdication by kidnapping his eldest and his bride and holding them ransom in the demesne of Burneside. That is Lord Dowel's lands. The king must give up his throne in favor of the Duke of Eerlie." He spoke matter-of-factly as if he had not recounted how I would be kidnapped.

Seeming to realize what he had said, he continued, "Oh dear. The bride-to-be is you, is it not? I am afraid you are going to lose your head."

"No, she is not," Truett snapped. "The princess will reveal the plot, and all will be dealt with." He glanced at me. "You get to keep your head."

"Come now, gentlemen," Borrat interrupted. "It would never have worked. Prince Juel and his bride," he dipped his head at me, "will never be far from the sight of the Salmun. I believe the lords have yet to come up with a solution to that problem."

"Have you not noticed? They are withdrawing more of late. I see little of them within the castle. Something has drawn their attention elsewhere," Truett said.

"It is a honeymoon, you fool," Albert continued, as if Truett had not mentioned the Salmun's unusual behavior. "Were you not listening? The Salmun cannot always be at their side. There is the matter of the..." He arched an eyebrow. "It is a delicate matter. Not to be mentioned in the lady's presence."

"Are you referring to our wedding night?"

Albert coughed. The other two glanced at each other.

I waved my hand to dismiss their awkwardness. "We can forget about that." Then I steepled my fingers and held them to my lips. I would have to think about what I did with this information. Obviously, I didn't fancy losing my head, but valuable secrets such as this were worth keeping close until I needed to use them. And there was my duty to the Mother I had to uphold. Bearing an heir to both the Tarragona throne and the Sistern came above all else.

"Tell me, what do any of you know about the Razohan?"

"That is not—" Albert began.

"Filthy beasts," Truett proclaimed.

"So you know of them?"

"Our lands were rarely plagued by them thanks to the Salmun. They were ruthless in their destruction when they dared to venture south. Then the Salmun created the Ashenlands, and now they do not cross."

"We have given the princess a lot to—" Albert said.

"They believe they have a rightful claim to the throne of Tarragona. Which is all hogwash," Borrat added.

Removing the House of Tannard was the northerner's aim, as I had suspected.

Truett snorted a laugh. "No more right than I."

"Then that is why Lord Bloodwyn took the risk of venturing this far south. But on his own? It makes little sense. Unless he's not on his own. And Bloodwyn is probably not his real name." I forgot about the spirits as I spoke aloud my thoughts.

"Lord Bloodwyn is an oaf," Borrat interrupted my thoughts.

"You know him?" I said.

"His great-great-grandfather swindled me out of half my lands, which Lord Bloodwyn has promptly lost because of his love for gambling and whoring. The crown prince will do the same as soon as he inherits his title. He and Bloodwyn are firm foes across the card table. But they often share the same women."

"But… how is it he lives in the south?"

"I beg your pardon, princess, I am missing the point of your question," Borrat said.

"I met… He said he was…" I stared into the fire, my mind whirling. Recalling the chaotic swirl of Bloodwyn's soul, the cries, I gasped. "Is the beast form the only form the Razohan can take?"

"Mercy no, princess," Truett said. "That's the Huungardred. The Razohan can take whichever form they choose. They are said to be true shapeshifters."

Curses . I was a fool for the things I'd said to him. Taking Bloodwyn's form was how he infiltrated the palace. I didn't know his face. How he must have laughed to himself at my naivety. Why had the Mother not prepared me well enough for this role? Because the only role I was supposed to take was that of the pregnant wife.

"It is the Salmun who protect the south from the Razohan. The rest of us are defenseless against them," Truett said.

I shifted my gaze back to the fire. "The Salmun are no longer the only ones."

"What did she say?" Truett said to his spirit companions.

"The princess says strange things indeed," Borrat said.

I rose to my feet. "Thank you, gentlemen. You have no idea how helpful you've been."

"No. Wait. We have much more to talk about." I was too slow to prevent Truett from reaching for me. His hand grazed down my arm to my fingers. I snatched my hand away on feeling the ice of his touch. I stumbled away, my pulse a sudden noise in my ears. For a heartbeat, I swear I felt beyond the chill, to the touch of his hand.

Truett gasped, his eyes growing wider than any dinner plate. "I felt you," he uttered in awe.

"No." I shook my head. "That's impossible. Your mind is playing tricks on you because you wish it to be true."

I stepped away from him and the other two who'd now risen to standing, so to speak.

"I did. I did. I swear it is true."

"Don't let your mind fool you," I snapped.

"You are dead, you imbecile," Albert said. "It is as the princess says. It is impossible."

I tried to steady my voice. "I need to leave." I spun to go.

"Please, princess, wait."

I glanced over my shoulder to find Truett gliding toward me. "No." I held up my hand, not wanting him near, desperate not to feel the chill of his touch and the solidness underneath. "Stop." A wave of something rushed through me, out of me.

Truett halted in place, dangling like a curtain, his ill-formed legs swirling as if in agitation. He looked as though he was in pain or struggling.

I turned and fled the library. Choosing the opposite direction from the music, I hurried down the long corridor. Finding a darkened alcove, I darted within, seeking solace in the shadows.

Could it really be possible I had just commanded the dead?

Mother, what have you done to me?