Scrivener's Tale (33 page)

Gabe could feel the pleasure that Cyricus felt warm his body at having achieved his aim.

‘Of course, Master Tentrell,' Cyricus replied, nonetheless humbly. ‘Should I come to the back door?'

‘No, Ash will show you upstairs. I shall be spending the afternoon resting. You can come and get your coin at sunset.'

‘But a meal is more than —'

‘I like to pay my workers, Gabriel. You can certainly have a meal on the back porch.' He pointed to where a stool and table were. ‘Then clean yourself up and present yourself … Ash will show you where.'

‘Thank you.'

‘You'll find all the tools you'll need in that small enclosure.' He pointed again. ‘Ask Ash if you're unsure. He will bring you some water to drink and show you where you can clean up at the end of the day. Make sure you prepare my bed properly.' He stopped just short of winking, Gabe was sure. Tentrell gave a final languorous smile before waddling off on swollen ankles into the house.

‘Surely you're not going to do this manual work, my lord?' Aphra asked, sounding disturbed.

‘I am, because I know he will be watching from his upstairs window. We might as well go through the motions and get his excitement levels to the right peak.'

Aphra laughed. ‘Gabe has a fine body.'

‘I hope you didn't enjoy it too much.'

‘I thought of myself as a whore when I was with him. It disgusted me to feel his touch, my lord. I am for you alone. And I permitted his slobberings only in order to reach you.'

As Cyricus's laughter boomed around his mind, Gabe felt sickened by her insult and felt it stoke the fire of his rage. He had to be especially careful. If he allowed his emotions to rise any further, his unwelcome guests might feel his fists clench against their will or sense his blood warming in anger. No, he must use all of his psychologist's skills to remain calm and silent under any insults.

He took his mind away from their conversation and focused purely on the work that soon got underway. Gabe kept himself deliberately distracted, revelling in the physical exercise, sensing the building fatigue in his shoulders and arms. He was glad of the weights he had used regularly in his apartment back in Paris and it was obvious that Cyricus was not only making very good use of that training but was now exerting his own strength somehow. The memory cut into the bubble of distance he'd managed to wrap around himself and he had to control the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He must not allow himself to experience any rushes of emotion.

Memories of Paris, the apartment, his former life, must be banished if he was going to survive this entrapment.

Florentyna had never felt more alone than she did right now watching Darcelle fuss over the final arrangements for the arrival of King Tamas in a few days. It wasn't jealousy, it was envy — they're different, she analysed privately. She had been betrothed once. She wondered if she would ever find someone to love.
Weeping into one's sewing just won't do, majesty
, Reynard used to tease when he caught her in a moment of self-pity. Shar, but she missed him.

‘Oh, I'm so nervous,' Darcelle twittered in Florentyna's general direction.

‘Formal welcome, to the throne room, meet the queen, talk with nobles briefly … and so on and so forth,' Darcelle continued murmuring to herself as she looked over her list. It had originally held a mammoth series of tasks, which she had doggedly shortened — through canny management over seven moons — to this final list. ‘Stables, cleared. Guestrooms, ready. Servants appointed … er, Burrage?'

‘Yes, highness?' he said, looking up from his desk in the queen's salon, where they were all seated.

Florentyna felt obliged to be present but was doing her best not to be involved in the final flurry of activity to organise the welcome for the arrival of the King of Cipres.

‘I know it's tedious of me,' Darcelle continued, ‘but I want to check again that Tamas has been appointed the best from our household staff to wait on him.'

Florentyna had to wonder why Burrage didn't fling the book of household accounts straight at her sister's head, which appeared to be empty of anything but her own inane, repetitive queries regarding her nuptials.

‘Hytchen will be his manservant at all times, and Looce his maid, your highness. I have seen to it.'

‘Good,' she said. ‘I'm sorry to make you run through it again.'

‘It is no hardship, highness. Little Venn will be his page, and I will, of course, offer my secretarial and administrative services to ensure confidentiality and reliability. Looce has picked three other of our most senior and trusted women. Meanwhile, Hytchen has assembled his special team — from stable hands to falconer, to dressers, to musicians. Essentially, though, it will be myself, Hytchen and Looce who will supervise and manage the needs of the king and his retinue. Please do not worry yourself — we will ensure a smooth and delightful stay.' He smiled warmly and cast a glance towards Florentyna, which she ignored, preferring not to be drawn into the conversation.

‘Thank you, Burrage,' Darcelle said briskly. She continued checking off her list, muttering and dipping her nib into the queen's inkpot to scribble small notes to herself. ‘So, we're leaving pre-dawn to go and meet him?' she cast into the silence.

This was too much for Florentyna.

There was no actual wedding ceremony yet. The visit of the king at this time was essentially to meet the sovereign of Morgravia in order to parley, to broker the right structure for this marriage between the two realms. It continued to annoy Florentyna that strict protocol had already been breached when Darcelle had made her own journey to Cipres and accepted the king's proposal so emphatically. Darcelle should have known better, which is why Florentyna continued to believe that her stepmother was behind this union. Getting a crown onto Darcelle's head was, no doubt, Saria's prime outside interest while incarcerated at the monastery.

Once Darcelle became a queen — with the power that such a title might bring — Florentyna was sure Saria would then set about chipping away at
her
through Darcelle. She'd hoped, over the passing of many moons, that Darcelle might drift away from their stepmother. Florentyna had to acknowledge to herself it was why she had acquiesced to her sister making the journey across the ocean to Cipres in the first place. It was a useful, cunning old ploy to expose a young woman to new experiences, new people, fresh interests. It hadn't worked. Darcelle's affections for Saria had remained intact; intensified if anything.

Now Florentyna's frustration spilled over. ‘Darcelle, I insist upon some decorum. You will meet Tamas at Baelup. There is absolutely no need for you to go traipsing across the countryside in the dead of night. Don't act so desperate. He's wooing you. He needs you far more than you him.'

‘Dead of
morning
, sister,' Darcelle corrected. ‘And there is every need for me to gallop at the highest speed toward the man that I love. I don't know how you managed to talk me out of being on the shore to meet his ship! This is my future husband. It is how I demonstrate my commitment and love for him.'

Burrage cut the queen a glance. His eyes urged her to remain calm.

Florentyna sighed. She was always the one who did the right thing. She could almost hear her father — and Reynard — telling her that she had no choice as sovereign but to always do what was right and correct. Florentyna put down her papers and schooled her features to look a lot less irritated than she felt.

‘It is more seemly for the bride to be a little more reticent. The match is very good for King Tamas — please don't forget that. He is marrying into what is arguably the most prosperous dynasty in all the world and —'

Darcelle snorted. ‘I think the Denovians might like to take you to task on that, sister.'

The queen forced herself to let her sister's rudeness pass. She hated it when Darcelle derided her in front of others, and as the Ciprean king's arrival date had drawn closer, Darcelle's confidence had grown to arrogant levels. Saria was lurking in this, but deep down Florentyna knew she had helped create the monster by being so soft on her little sister.

‘Nevertheless,' she said, evenly, working to remain gentle with Darcelle, ‘the Ciprean crown is the real winner in this marriage, so please —'

‘Florentyna! You are determined to ruin my pleasure. I've waited so many moons to see Tamas again and you know how much I've longed for him.'

Florentyna cleared her throat and glared at Darcelle to remind her that Burrage was still in the room.

Darcelle stood. ‘I just want it all to be perfect for him.'

‘And it will be. You are perfect for each other,' Florentyna said, meaning it. She rose and walked around her desk to take Darcelle by the shoulders. ‘You are the most beautiful bride that any king could ever possibly be fortunate enough to win.' Darcelle pouted a smile. ‘You're intelligent and talented, you're young and capable of giving him strong sons.'

Darcelle laughed. ‘A whole army,' she quipped.

Florentyna grinned. ‘Indeed. He knows you love him, beautiful child. You have nothing to prove. Just be elegant, be restrained, let him discover all there is to discover about you slowly. He's an older man … he should and no doubt will worship the ground you walk on. But he must earn your love too, Darcelle.'

‘Florentyna, you don't understand. I worship
him
. And it's too late if you want me to play the coy virgin!'

The queen gasped. Burrage cleared his throat and made some inane excuse to leave the chamber which Florentyna barely heard. She was staring uncomprehendingly into Darcelle's defiant gaze.

‘You slept with Tamas?' she asked, her tone incredulous.

Darcelle gave one of her sly smiles. ‘I don't think we did much sleeping —'

Florentyna looked as shocked at the sound as Darcelle was stung by the pain of the slap. The queen even looked at her hand, baffled that it was the culprit that had inflicted the strike. Darcelle covered her cheek while Florentyna's lips thinned as much in despair as in anger.

‘How dare you!' Darcelle whimpered.

‘Someone has to,' Florentyna bit back.

‘No, Florentyna! Someone has to get on with enriching this family, broadening its horizons, bringing fresh blood into it and breathing new life into our line. It's fairly obvious it's not going to be dry old you,' Darcelle snapped. Both women were breathing heavily. ‘There's about as much chance of you being bedded as me sprouting wings and flying out of that window!' She hurled the words at her sister. ‘I'm a woman now and I will marry Tamas … and I will wear his crown. And though I may nod my head towards you, sister, in acknowledgement of your crown, I will never, ever bow as subserviently to you as I've had to previously, once that crown is on my head. Do you understand me? We will be queens and we can get on as sisters … or we can be enemies.'

And there it was. All that she'd dreaded.

‘You senseless, self-centred brat,' Florentyna exploded. ‘I know Saria is behind all of this.'

‘My mother —'

‘She's
not
your mother.'

‘Saria is the only mother I've ever known. And I don't care if you hate her. I love her. I thought I loved you too — that's what always made our triangle so difficult. I was torn. Increasingly, Florentyna, you are making it far easier for me to choose. You have become an emotionless, isolated island of a person whom no-one can reach, least of all me. And worse, now you're jealous of me. Frankly I've done so much to promote your reign that I should be the one to feel hard done by. But I don't bear grudges. I want only what's best for you. Pity you can't feel the same sentiment towards me!'

She took a breath and before Florentyna could voice her despair, her sister continued her rant. She pointed aggressively. ‘You should be revelling in the fact that we have this opportunity to bind our realm with Cipres and, ultimately, perhaps Tallinor. And you should be especially thrilled that this is not a strategic marriage with me kicking and screaming as I'm dragged away to marry an acid-breathed man I despise. He's older, yes, but I love Tamas. What's more — and I know this cuts you deeply — he genuinely loves me. You should be showering me with praise. Instead, all you do is think of yourself.' Darcelle backed away and lowered her hand.

Florentyna shrank at the sight of the welt on her sister's cheek. ‘I'm sorry. I should not have done that,' Florentyna whispered, knowing she should not be apologising, knowing Darcelle was finally showing the flaws in her character and that, as queen, she was making a terrible error in condoning her sister's behaviour. The sovereign might find ways to make amends, but to accept blame was inappropriate. She could all but hear her father's voice lambasting her.

Darcelle continued her tirade. ‘No, I do not accept your apology. I'll wear this bruise as a mark of pride. It's testimony to the shrivelled stick of a woman you are fast becoming that you would criticise me for crafting one of the most positive events this realm has seen in an age. We're teetering on destruction of the triumvirate but maybe … just maybe, a royal wedding, a merger of realms, a whole empire in celebration might drag us all back from the brink. The only reason you're queen is the five winters that yawn between us, sister. But we all know — including you — that I would have made a far better sovereign and that would have left you free to moon about in your enchanted garden or play with the magics that I know you believe in. You're a disgrace! Saria's right. This crown of Morgravia is rightfully mine.'

At Florentyna's horrified look, Darcelle laughed. ‘Scary, isn't it, that I might even entertain such a thought. So don't push me, your majesty! I've walked in your withered shadow for long enough. I respect the role of sovereign more than you know and that's the only reason I will bow once again to you, my queen,' she said, lowering herself elegantly but her tone was poisonous. ‘And be
very
grateful that I will never speak of your hand against me. I repeat my warning. Don't push me or you will have armies marching against you from across the oceans, and while Cipres might be small in comparison to this empire, it is loyal, patriotic and has the might of Tallinor behind it.