Hearts in Cups (2 page)

"I have just
received a letter from Lord Percamber. I'm afraid that I will be leaving for
Pentarin the day after tomorrow instead of at the end of the week as planned.
There are a few things I need to review with you before leaving, since you will
be acting as steward while I am away."

"Hmmm... now, what
can have arisen that you should need to go rushing off to the capital? The
Pentacle Council doesn't convene for another fortnight yet." He looked at
her over the steeple he had made with his fingers.

At this she began to
chuckle and shake her head at him. "Ian, dear boy, I am thoroughly
convinced that naught moves in this castle but you know of it. So, ferret, let
me hear your guesses first."

"Holly, you credit
me with far too much cunning," he protested. "I am, as grandfather
has pointed out to me on several occasions, but a foppish young puppy whose
poor mind is no match for the political machinations of my betters. But if you
could contrive to put a tankard of mulled wine in my hand it might, perhaps,
ease the functioning of this rusty organ of mine." He comically cradled
the side of his head in his hand.

"Late hours?"
she inquired unsympathetically.

"The late hours do
not bother me; the early ones do," he replied with feigned hurt.

At this juncture
Alaric, followed by a kitchen servant, entered with trays laden with fruit,
fresh bread, butter and honey, and, a sign of his perspicacity, a steaming
goblet of wine which he offered to Ian. After the servants had retired, the two
cousins companionably began to appease their hunger. Soon Ian leaned back,
having drunk the contents of his goblet, and eyed his cousin with a look that
transformed his customarily casual mien to one of intense concern.

"Let me see now...
the Pentacle Council is not due to meet for three weeks, yet you receive a
message from the Regent, delivered by one of his personal messengers no less,
and after reading it, you announce your intention for an early departure. I
would hazard that all of this, coupled with the hints and rumors I have been
listening to recently, suggest that the agenda for this year's council session
will have to be the Crown Prince, or the lack of same. In other words: the pot
is about to boil."

"Not badly
reasoned at all." She rose and, handing him the letter, went to stand with
her face towards the windows. Ian unfolded the heavy parchment and scanned the
thick, slanted writing. When he had finished, he refolded the message with care
and looked at his cousin. Tall for a woman, she stood gracefully in profile to
him, the morning light turning her hair to flame: Hollin Morwen Medicat Lir,
Duchess of Langstraad and head of one of the Great Houses of the Pentarchy. She
glanced at him and he met her steel grey eyes.

"Well,
Holly," he said using her childhood diminutive. "You've known this
was coming for a long time. King Gwydian has been dead for over five years and Lord
Percamber is quite long in the tooth. It's been ten years or so since Prince
Brian went away. While there is a High King in Sandovar, the Houses are held
together and the Pentarchy is strong and united. Without a High King there is
bound to be discontent among the Houses, and subsequent concerns by everyone
about possible invasions from enemies outside of our borders."

"I'm afraid that
you are all too right." She sighed and came back to her chair.

"The ‘ambitious
ones’ Percamber refers to are the Duke and Duchess of Mirvanovir, I
presume?"

"Yes, I would
suppose so; though there are more than enough malcontents about these days.
Percamber seems quite certain this will be the council session that will decide
the coming course of events."

Ian cleared his throat,
looked down at his hands and then caught his cousin's eyes directly. "What
I say may be no more than conjecture, but I am willing to bet those with great
ambitions are hoping to use the Duchess of Langstraad as a stepping stone to
the throne."

She regarded him
incredulously. "On what do you base such speculation?"

"To start with,
the handfasting ceremony that took place between you and Prince Brian."

"That's
preposterous! The heirs of the Great Houses are never allowed to intermarry.
The only reason I was allowed to be handfasted to him in the first place was
because Gwyneira was the elder. It was always taken for granted that she would
be Langstraad's next duchess." Hollin looked away, remembering the sister
whose unexpected death had willed to her the duchy's coronet.

"Besides,"
she continued grimly. "I was seven years old at the time! Such a ceremony,
especially with a child involved, cannot truly be considered binding. "

"But he was of
age?"

"I believe that he
was close to twenty at the time."

"Do you still have
the ring that you were given as a troth-seal?"

"I suppose that
it's with my other personal jewelry," she replied with unwonted
impatience. "But I still don't see how a preliminary betrothal could be of
use, or interest, to anyone. I doubt anyone else even remembers it."

"Don't you believe
it! I've been doing a lot of listening in my recent travels, and that betrothal
ceremony has not been forgotten. You had best arm yourself well before the
Council convenes, or you will find yourself being auctioned off as crown-bearer
to whoever is clever enough or strong enough to manage it!"

The look she shot him
was not pleasant but she said nothing.

He continued in milder
tones. "Let me tell you what it is I have been hearing on my journeys. The
past two days I've had little chance to sit down and talk to you without
interruption.

"As you are well
aware, since Grandfather hatched his most recent program for my reform,
matrimony, I have been trotted out rather extensively in the hope of baiting a
good match, as he is so fond of saying." Ian pursed his mouth in distaste.
"Outside of raising his hopes for naught, I was able to glean quite a tidy
sum of information for you.

"First on the
agenda was Branwilde of Creon's household. He has a daughter of marriageable
age and, since the duke and Grandfather are such old friends, it was fervently
hoped that I would be taken to their bosoms; hers at any rate. She's not a bad
little piece, though my preferences lean to something a little fuller or, at
least, older." He favoured his cousin with an impudent grin. "Anyway,
her grace, Lady Dierdre, was less than ecstatic about having me as a
son-in-law. I think she has higher hopes for the poor girl, and I soon found my
way out of that house. After my dismal showing at the Duke of Creon's court, I
was conducted on a leisurely tour of some of the lesser estates where a few of
my prospective fathers-in-law examined damn near everything but my teeth! I'm
afraid I didn't meet all of their specifications, much to Grandfather's
chagrin. I can't say that I'm sorry. Anyway, we eventually reached Challis in
Mirvanovir, where I spent an informative, though less than agreeable, few weeks
as Lord Niall's guest."

"I should have
thought you would enjoy his style of life," she interjected drily.

Ian wrinkled his nose
in disdain. "I like creature comforts, and I even admit that I enjoy a
certain amount of luxury, but I loathe decadence and there is a distinct odour
of rottenness about the court of Mirvanovir. The duke is bad enough, but the
duchess..." He paused to shudder violently.

"Come now Ian,
aren't you are getting overly dramatic? I've known Rashara for quite a few
years and, while I've never personally liked her, she is certainly no
ghoul."

"Have you ever
been to Challis? You only see her at council sessions and state occasions. I
assure you, the goings on in their own palace are definitely of a sybaritic
bent. One of the Duke of Tuenth's sons was there, and I would be much surprised
if dinner was all that the duchess shared with him. Believe me, she is much the
worst of that pair. Thankfully, the lack of profitable interest in my charms,
along with your summons to return, cut short my sojourn there."

Hollin sighed. "I
know Grandfather has been making a good deal of noise about marrying you off,
but I didn't realize that he was launching a major campaign."

Ian smiled wryly.
"Oh yes, I felt like a prize stud being brought out to tease. It was
rather unbearable. I suspect that Grandfather still nurses hopes of foisting me
off on Creon's House, but since he's not speaking with me at present, I think I
shall remain with my bachelorhood intact."

"He is only doing
it for what he sees as your own good. Beneath that crusty exterior he does love
you. He simply has trouble expressing his emotions," she said gently.

"Oh yes, my mother
taught me about his emotions," was the surprisingly bitter reply.

Hollin sat quietly
waiting for several minutes after this uncharacteristic outburst. Her aunt,
Lady Fiona de Medicat, Ian's mother, had disgraced herself in her family's eyes
many years ago by eloping with a commoner. Hollin remembered her arrival at the
gates of Castle Lir some years later, straight-backed and proud with a face
betraying her imminent death and a young boy with defiant eyes at her side. Her
husband had died in an accident and the grief of it had wasted her until she
was forced to bestow her only child on her brother's doorstep before she
herself died. Only after she was buried did her father relent, forgiving her and
naming her son his heir. Ian had been raised between his grandfather's house
and his uncle's at Castle Lir. Grandfather and grandson had been at loggerheads
from the start and, Hollin reflected, similarities of temperament had as much
to do with their problems as did exterior forces. Both had fierce loyalties and
stubbornness of purpose.

"Aside from that
old story," Ian went on, regaining his self-possession, "I have been
to a great many banquets and heard much gossip these last few weeks. The
general consensus in Creon is that the crown must be secured in order to keep
the Pentarchy from dissolution. Branwilde has supported Lord Percamber's
regency in the past but he is growing uneasy. He is a soldier and wants a
commander to follow. Apparently forces outside the Pentarchy, meaning I suspect
the Kassorian Empire, are beginning to show an interest in the current state of
the Pentarchy. The duke is unreservedly loyal and won't move against Percamber,
but he wants a permanent king on the throne and recognized heirs to it."

"You seem to know
much of the duke's personal thoughts for someone who was only listening to idle
gossip."

"I listened and
did a lot of reading between the lines. Grandfather and the duke talked a good
deal within my earshot. Now, as to the smaller lords and landholders in Creon,
they will do whatever Branwilde commands. But, they are feeling insecure and
insecure men look for simple solutions.

"Mirvanovir is a
trickier kettle of fish. It is my opinion that Niall and Rashara want the
throne with themselves on it. It's not said in the open of course, and neither
of them is so stupid as to put on anything but a loyal face, but there were too
many little things said and done that point to that conclusion. From his
letter, I see that Percamber is also wary about them. Niall is good at choosing
greedy men to do his bidding and he holds his duchy in a very tight fist.
 And Rashara? Selfish men are bad, but an avaricious woman who wants power
can be terrible."

"I should have
thought Rashara was far too interested in herself and her pleasures to take
much interest in the rest of the world."

"Don't
underestimate her, Holly. She spent several years studying at the Scholastium
in Dacara before marrying the duke. I think she could be a powerful and
dangerous foe," Ian replied severely.

"I shall keep that
in mind," Hollin replied with mock-contrition. "You have told me that
there is unrest and speculation about the throne, but where do I come into this
play? Why are you so certain that I am viewed as the stepping stone?"

"To begin with,
your aunt was Lady Bronwyn, who was the late king's first cousin by
blood."

"Gervase Iscoed
and his sister Genvra are more closely related," she countered. "Lady
Bronwyn was their mother."

"True, but nothing
would ever induce Gervase to leave Iscoed and Genvra is married into House
Pentarell. I've told you that there are a lot of ambitions involved. Gervase
has no ambitions, at least none beyond his own comfort and seclusion. House
Pentarell might think of using Genvra to make a claim of their own, but they
are a Minor House and I doubt Roraic Danane would allow them to use his wife in
that way.

"The second reason
that you are at the top of a lot of lists, as I mentioned earlier, is this
matter of your prior handfasting to the prince. This gives you two direct links
to House Sandovar and the throne. Thirdly, you are as yet still unmarried. Need
I remind you that all of the, shall we say ‘interested parties,’ have sons of
marriageable age. To many, you are the logical solution to their problem."

Hollin rose with a
frown and paced to the window. "This is completely absurd! That
handfasting was not binding even at the time it was made. Besides, with
Gwyneira dead, I am the Duchess of Langstraad, not some younger daughter who
can be married off for political alliance. I am sole ruler of one of the five
Great Houses and no one else outranks me in the Pentarchy." She returned
to her seat, still frowning.