Legacy (17 page)

“Are you suggesting that I spy for you?”

“No,” he replied, unfazed by my response. “I simply want you to interact with him and relate to me any information he volunteers.”

I still was not happy with the idea.

“I don't want to betray his trust,” I ventured, though I sensed my attempt to dissuade Cannan would be futile.

The captain was silent for a moment, as though deciding whether he owed me an explanation. When next he spoke, his voice was placating.

“You must understand that what Narian has told you of his past in your two brief meetings exceeds what he has revealed to any other person. In order for
us
to trust
him,
we need to learn about his life in Cokyri. Who raised him? What has been his training? How did he learn of his true identity?”

Cannan's tone now became insistent, and his eyes held mine.

“It is imperative that we discover what we can about his background. He seems to be more open with you than with anyone else, and it behooves us to take advantage of that fact.”

I nodded, feeling rather childish for attempting to argue with him.

Cannan stood and planted his hands on the wood surface before him, brushing the sheets of parchment aside. He then spoke to the three of us, his voice unassailable.

“No one other than those in this room and the King has knowledge of this plan, and no other is to learn of it.” Addressing me, he continued, “You may choose to invite Princess Miranna on your return visits to see Narian. In fact, to avoid scrutiny, I would suggest that you do so. But she must remain ignorant as to your true purpose.”

Cannan's eyes shifted to Halias's face, and he allowed a transitory pause to emphasize his point.

“That is all,” he finished, straightening to his full height. “You may go now.”

I rose as Tadark and Halias turned to escort me back to
my quarters. Having had very few dealings with the Captain of the Guard in the past, I was impressed by the measure of authority he had exhibited, even toward a member of the royal family. He was confident in a much different way from his son—Steldor was conceited, whereas Cannan was decisive. The deep respect I had for him made me feel as if
I
should have bowed prior to leaving his office.

 

It was early September, and this time my mother was hosting a recital in the Music Room of the palace. She had invited two dozen young noblewomen, accompanied by their mothers, to share their vocal abilities, as well as their accomplishments on the harp and flute. Miranna was to be one of the young women demonstrating her talents on the harp, but my mother had not approached me with a similar request, perhaps thinking I had endured enough stress over the last month as a result of the palace function I had orchestrated.

I was thankful that this gathering had a specific aim, as it meant there would be little time for gossip. I dreaded the questions that would be flung at me with respect to the altercation between Narian and Steldor that had taken place just ten days ago.

The Music Room was adjacent to the Queen's Drawing Room, and likewise had a bay window that yielded a view of the East Courtyard. Two rows of benches had been arranged so that they faced away from the window toward the front of the room where the performers would sit or stand. As I selected a bench, I glanced outside and could see that summer was giving way to fall, as the flowers in the courtyard were beginning to forlornly wither and die while the leaves on the trees were taking on vibrant hues. As I seated myself, dark-eyed Reveina,
ever the leader, slid in on one side of me, boy-obsessed Kalem on the other.

“So tell us,” said Reveina, brushing back her sleek brown tresses and leaning toward me. “What exactly happened between Lord Steldor and the Cokyrian?”

“Yes, we were in the ballroom that evening but did not witness the quarrel. We've heard so many conflicting versions of it that we want to know the truth from you,” Kalem added, her glistening gray eyes framed by her coal-black hair.

“His name is Lord Narian,” I said tersely. “And he is Hytanican, not Cokyrian.”

Neither my comments nor my argumentative manner dampened their enthusiasm.

“Did Steldor strike him? Did he strike Steldor?” Reveina was persistent. “We've heard both versions, and tend to believe the first, but the second would be so…”

“Worthy of gossip?” I finished.

“Yes, of course.” Kalem laughed.

I looked toward the front of the room, longing for the performances to begin. As Miranna, who was to play first, was not yet ready, I attempted to put a stop to the speculations as best I could.

“There was no fight at all. Steldor had just consumed more ale than he perhaps should have and became a little jealous. He did not like me speaking with Narian, although it was to be expected I would converse with the guest of honor.” I was being as tactful about the incident as I could. “Sorry to disappoint, but no one hit anyone.”

Their faces dropped and their lips formed pouts, as if they had at least expected I would make a good story out of it.
Before they could say anything further, the first notes of the harp caught my ear and I was saved by the start of Miranna's solo.

The recital continued for another two hours, alternating between singers and instrumentalists. Right before the last vocalist of the day, I excused myself, exiting the room so I would not have to deal with any further inquiries. I knew my mother would view my behavior as rude and that I would suffer a reprimand later, but that was a price I was willing to pay.

BY THE TIME MIRANNA AND I PAID ANOTHER VISIT to Koranis's country estate, harvest time was upon us. From mid-September through October, crops such as wheat, barley, rye and oats were gathered and stored, grapes were harvested for wine, honey was collected, and fruit, including the apples in the royal orchards, was picked. It was the most anticipated time of the year, culminating in a week of celebrations at the end of October that included feasting and dancing, along with a tournament and faire.

As we crossed the countryside in our buggy, I considered what Narian would think of the upcoming festivities. I doubted he would be as enthused as the rest of the kingdom, for if he had been disappointed by almost everything else he had seen in Hytanica, as Semari had indicated, then I supposed he would look askance at the Harvest Festival as well. Even so, I could not help but hope that after partaking of the most thrilling of the year's celebrations, he would prove to be more impressed with Hytanica than he had been thus far.

Miranna and I chatted with Koranis and Alantonya upon
our arrival at the Baron's estate until we were interrupted by Semari, who bounded out of the house. Alantonya took advantage of her daughter's appearance to retreat into the home, suggesting before she did so that we take another constitutional, though she reminded us to stay far from the river. Koranis also chose to take his leave, overwhelmed by the chattering of the two younger girls, but was intercepted by Tadark as he began to walk toward the stables. Curious as to what business my bodyguard would have with the Baron, I stepped away from my sister and her friend so as to position myself for eavesdropping.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Tadark was saying, sounding self-important, extending the dagger Narian had wielded after my fall into the river.

“Yes, that is mine,” Koranis affirmed, bewildered. “I assumed I had lost it. How ever did you come by it?”

“It wasn't lost, sir,” explained a gleeful Tadark, probably knowing he was about to cause trouble for Narian and enjoying the bit of revenge he could exact for the embarrassment the young man had previously dealt him. “I took it from Lord Kyenn the last time we were here. I brought it to the Captain of the Guard as I did not know it was yours.”

Koranis looked blankly at Tadark for a moment.

“I remember having it when we were out riding and thought I must have dropped it. But if Kyenn had it…” A flush crept over his double chins as comprehension dawned.

“Kyenn!” he called, turning to face the house.

After several minutes and another angry call, Narian sauntered out the front door.

“In what manner did you come by my dagger?” Koranis demanded as his son came to stand before him.

“I removed it from its sheath,” Narian answered.

“Then you are a thief, boy, and I will not tolerate a thief in my home!”

Koranis, who had assumed a stern posture, recoiled almost imperceptibly as Narian's piercing blue eyes locked upon him. Tadark, who was smaller in stature than the other two men, now looked cherubic, undisguised joy shining upon his face.

“Perhaps a good whipping is in order to teach you respect for other people's possessions.” Strangely, Koranis's words came out sounding more like a proposal than the imposition of a punishment.

There was silence in the aftermath of the Baron's statement. Even Semari and Miranna's prattling had died away and they watched father and son with interest. I could not tear my attention from the scene as the golden-haired pair stared at each other, Narian's lean and muscular build in sharp contrast to Koranis's overfed and overfussed appearance.

Narian appraised his father with disdain in his eyes, showing no sign of remorse or concern in the face of Koranis's threat.

“I wouldn't try that if I were you,” he cautioned, his voice barely audible.

Koranis took a small step back from his son, realizing as he did that the two of them had attracted our attention.

“Get back into the house,” he blustered. “I will deal with you later.”

Narian shrugged, then unhurriedly reentered the home.

Perturbed by Narian's attitude, Koranis turned to my bodyguard and said curtly, “Thank you for returning my weapon.” He then huffed off to the stables, leaving an extremely disappointed Tadark behind.

Miranna and Semari soon resumed their chattering, but I
was staggered by what we had witnessed. In Hytanica, the father was the undisputed head of the family, with absolute dominion over his wife, his children, and their lands and possessions. Yet I could not shake the feeling that Narian had been the one in charge. This was all the more disconcerting as Narian had neither shown signs of anger nor aggression. Rather, he had seemed to be coldly sizing up a foe, and the shocking notion that Narian held power over the Baron entered my head.

It wasn't long before Semari, Miranna and I took Alantonya's suggestion and again traipsed through the trees along the path to the river, Halias and Tadark in our wake. To my dismay, Narian was not with us. I had taken advantage of his presence in the house to invite him to accompany us, but he had merely raised his eyebrows, giving no other response, leading me to the conclusion that I would not see him further this day. I had hoped that simple curiosity would entice him on our walk, although part of me suspected that he viewed us as tedious and uninteresting.

As soon as we reached the clearing near the bank of the Recorah, Miranna and Semari rushed ahead, their giggling becoming fainter as they approached the water. Halias went after them, but I hung back, preferring to enjoy the view from a safe distance.

I examined my surroundings, searching for a shady spot where I might sit, and spied the gnarled, exposed root of an ancient oak. As I moved toward it, I was amazed to see Narian leaning against another tree but a few feet to my left. He was clad in a black shirt, this time topped by a leather vest, and black breeches, so he was enabled to fade into the shade cast by the dense trees. It occurred to me as I contemplated him
that the High Priestess at the time of her capture had likewise been dressed all in black.

Tadark had seen Narian as well and clung annoyingly to my side, and I knew something had to be done. I stopped and turned to him, struggling to repress my irritation.

“If Lord Narian is to be relaxed enough to talk to me, you are going to have to give us some room.”

My bodyguard looked torn, but then motioned forward with his hand to indicate that I should proceed without him. After glancing toward the younger girls, who were being entertained by Halias's demonstration of the proper way to skip rocks, I changed course and walked toward Narian, knowing that there was no way to conceal that I wanted to speak with him. He examined me as I came closer, but made no indication of a desire to converse when I reached him. I decided to cut straight to the point.

“I've been thinking about what you said to me on my last visit—about protecting myself.”

I felt enormously self-conscious due to the lack of the usual niceties preceding my words, but tried not to let my discomfort show.

“You were right. There may come a time when my bodyguards will be unable to defend me. It would seem wise that I learn to defend myself.”

I waited to see what his reaction would be, but he continued to survey me, and I cleared my throat.

“I can think of no one to teach me these things, except…you,” I finished.

He nodded, as if understanding how I had reached this conclusion, but his reply was not what I expected.

“I can't do that,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why not?” I demanded, planting my hands on my hips
in mild frustration. “First you tell me that I must be able to protect myself, then you refuse to teach me the necessary skills? Women in Cokyri know how to defend themselves. You said so yourself.”

He smirked, the same smirk I'd seen on the balcony. “Women in Cokyri wear breeches.”

I was silent for a moment, grasping his implication. “You want me to…wear breeches?”

“Only if you wish to learn self-defense,” he replied, and I had the impression he was issuing a challenge.

“Then I will do so.”

I waited for him to offer a pair to me, but he said nothing, the gleam in his startlingly blue eyes telling me he knew what was on my mind, but that he would not give me anything unless I requested it. And that I was not about to do.

“When next I come,” I said obstinately, “I will bring breeches.”

How I was going to accomplish this was beyond me at that moment, but I cared not. I would not give Narian the satisfaction of having a princess of Hytanica ask to borrow a pair of his trousers.

 

We returned to the palace as the pale shades of evening were beginning to brush the sky, and slowly walked up the courtyard path and through the large front doors into the Grand Entry Hall. I began to climb the winding double staircase, expecting Miranna to follow, but she made a comment about wanting to stroll in the garden, as she was feeling stiff from the buggy ride.

I wavered, debating whether I should join her, when the sound of a door opening and closing, and footfalls other than my sister's reached my ears. I glanced down and saw Steldor
emerge from the guardroom to the right of the staircase, from which one could gain access to Cannan's office. Not wanting to be seen, I hurried up the stairs to where Tadark was waiting on the landing. Steldor stood in the entryway for a moment, then headed in the same direction as Miranna, settling the question of whether or not I should follow after her. I instead elected to go on to the library.

“You're not actually going to wear breeches, are you?” Tadark asked when we reached my destination.

It was obvious he had overheard my talk with Narian, and I feared he might mention my plan to the Captain of the Guard when next he reported, and that Cannan would relay the information to my father. That would put an end to any possibility of acquiring what I needed, which in turn would paint me as foolish in front of Narian when I returned empty-handed, not to mention that it would leave me with no one to teach me self-defense. The time had come to refresh Tadark's memory of something I had not mentioned since the day of the picnic.

“Yes, I am,” I said with assurance. “And you are not to say a word about it…to anyone.”

“It is hardly appropriate for a princess to wear a man's clothing,” he muttered.

“Your opinion isn't relevant, Tadark, and this will not travel back to the captain or my father,” I declared, preparing to deliver my final blow. “Or I will be forced to inform them of your errors in judgment when Miranna was injured at the picnic.”

Tadark's face paled and I felt a twinge of pleasure in knowing that I had secured his cooperation.

“Fine,” he mumbled, crossing his arms.

Feeling rather proud of myself, I began to ponder the
problem of how to obtain the trousers. Concluding that I needed a coconspirator, I decided to find Miranna in the garden after all.

I left the library and descended the spiral staircase, making my way to the rear entrance of the palace. Tadark held the doors open for me and I stepped out into the waning sunlight. As I looked down the row of unlit torches, I saw not far from where I stood Halias resting against the wall in a posture that brought London to mind.

“Where is Mira?” I asked, for he normally would have been walking with her.

“She is by that fountain,” he said, smiling in greeting and pointing down the path in front of me.

I turned to approach the fountain he had indicated, leaving Tadark in his company and, as I did so, saw that Miranna was not alone.

Her back was to me, but over her shoulder, I could see Steldor's arrogant but incredibly handsome face. He was almost six inches taller than my sister, and based on his expression, took note of me before she had any idea that I was present. He was quite openly flirting with her just as he had done during our picnic; on that day, he had been attempting to settle the score with me for refusing his advances. Now, as his dark eyes burned into mine over my sister's back, a sneer curved his lips, and he did something even I would never have believed him capable of doing. Wrapping an arm around Miranna's waist and placing his other hand upon her upper back, he pulled her to him and gave her a long and lingering kiss on the lips.

I was too thunderstruck to react as Steldor stepped back from her. She swayed on her feet, overcome by his romantic gesture, but he moved around her without further consideration.

“Princess,” he murmured, swaggering past me, his tone in
that single word revealing how infuriatingly satisfied he was with himself.

Miranna turned in confusion as he sauntered away, not understanding his abrupt change in attitude, and I knew the moment she saw me, for her eyes widened in distress. She could no doubt sense my cold fury, though it was directed at Steldor and not at her. I walked toward her without speaking and with no design to be vindictive, but the darting of her eyes and her backward step told me she believed otherwise.

“Alera,” she squeaked, her hands flying to her face. “When did you…?”

“I saw the kiss,” I said simply, saving her from having to stutter out the rest of her question. I was not angry with her—there was little she could have done to prevent Steldor's action. She was also, like most of the girls in the kingdom, infatuated with him, and to have her first kiss come from someone over whom she swooned had probably been thrilling. But now she was on the verge of tears.

“I'm sorry! So sorry! It was childish of me to be flirting with him. I'm sure I gave him the wrong impression. Steldor is yours— I had no right to kiss him, and you have every right to be upset with me.”

My sister seemed oblivious to Steldor's true motivation for kissing her.

“It's all right, Mira.” I tried to cut her off before she could continue with her unnecessary apologies. “Steldor is not mine, nor have I ever desired that he be mine. He can kiss whomever he wants, as can you. You have no reason to feel guilty.”