Scrivener's Tale (48 page)

Despite the depth of his grief, Tamas had risen to the challenge of taking charge of the realm. Cipres was small but advanced, and Tamas knew that he must work to the kingdom's strengths to lift it out of grief. Education was the key and Lacey was his motivation; he could only imagine what she might have achieved if she'd had the benefit of his teachers to complement her ability to absorb information and extend her practical skills. Maybe their love could have been kindled rather than destroyed. Tamas implemented a new system to teach the young to read, to write, to calculate in their heads — no matter their family's position in society.

Cipres had been right in its forward-thinking approach and, as a result, even its farms used methods that were ahead of their time, and yields from smallholdings soon tripled the grain harvests achieved by much larger pastures in neighbouring lands.

The young king had also travelled to every town, village and hamlet to comfort, offer support and generally see to the wellbeing of his people. He opened up the palace coffers to give aid to those in serious need — to families who'd lost their livelihood, to children who'd lost parents, to convents and monasteries that were taking care of the sick, lonely, needy, heartbroken. He built three new centres of medicine, strategically placed up and down the realm so their restoratives and knowledge were accessible to most people within a few days' ride. And he built another wing to the learning academy specifically for physics. His schools — perhaps his greatest achievement and modelled on those of Cailech, when he was a young king in the Razors — were established in every major town over a certain size. He implemented a new system of rewards to families whose children achieved seven full cycles of consistent attendance at school — summer to summer. Cipres now had a new generation of educated farmers, smiths, bakers, millers.

Change was catching up with Tamas too; he was reaching the end of his fourth decade. He was nearly thirty-nine summers, more than twenty of them given to a feverish commitment to the Ciprean cause. In doing so he'd overlooked the most important aspect of what it is to be the sovereign: he'd neglected to take a queen, to give the Crown heirs, to give his people what they probably needed most … the future that children alone could provide.

As if in answer to his realisation, Princess Darcelle had arrived in his life like a breath of fresh, golden promise, brought to him under sail for a gathering of monarchs, but he was sure she was actually delivered to him by benevolent gods. He'd been charmed by her on sight for her beauty, but he appreciated her far more for her strength.

He'd since learned that there were sides to Darcelle's personality he had to overlook. She was wealthy beyond most royals' dreams and was addicted to having only the best; she took power for granted, revelling in the attention it won her, and she liked to use it to manipulate people. Darcelle was used to getting her way as the highly indulged youngest royal of Morgravia.

Thinking strategically, he was convinced she would make a fabulous Queen of Cipres. She was young and could bear him children for many years; a special bonus was that she was surprisingly politically astute, despite her delight in frippery, as he liked to call it. If he could use her manipulative skills for the benefit of furthering the Ciprean good, all the better. And if she were used to getting her way then he should put her in charge of some of his duties where her charm, beauty and skills could persuade people to support the Crown, where perhaps they might be criticising it.

What surprised him most about Darcelle was her affection for him and his sense that it was genuine. He had always believed the better-looking Ciprean princes had perished with the plague. His serious, handsome elder brother would have made a fine king, while the dashing younger brother would have charmed everyone into doing anything he asked of them. Tamas smiled at their memory — even so many years later, he missed them.

He was not so naïve he didn't appreciate that Darcelle's fondness for him was partly fuelled by the crown he would place on her head at the same time as he put his ring on her finger. This didn't matter to him — or so he'd convinced himself — as long as she cared enough for him that they might be good friends, good partners, a good royal team. The Cipreans were demanding a royal family, some even questioning his leanings. Did he love Darcelle? He didn't know. Apart from Lacey and one other — a child he had no right to love from afar — he'd never felt anything for any woman other than lust, and he could do so much worse than beautiful Darcelle. Besides, there was no question that to marry Darcelle and link Cipres to Morgravia and the great empire that stretched beyond her boundaries would be a dream come true in every respect.

As if she knew he'd been thinking about her, the double doors into the courtyard burst open and the weeping bride-to-be flung herself into his arms. Tamas waited, knowing the tears would dry and she would explain herself. He was right and realised he would have to get used to this theatrical behaviour from now on. Not every girl had Lacey's attitude.

Tamas listened, filtering her scorn through his own more balanced view. The drama, it seemed, was that Queen Florentyna had cancelled all festivities relating to the engagement. True, the news of so many curious deaths was deeply troubling and brought memories of the plague that had hit Cipres. He made a mental note to do a head count of his soldiers. He didn't believe anyone from his retinue within the palace had suffered.

Darcelle calmed. ‘I could sail with you today and we could elope.'

He stroked her hair, which looked and felt like it was spun from golden silk. ‘You don't mean that —'

‘I do, Tamas, I —'

‘Stop, my love. Give an older man some credit,' he jested. ‘You would always live to regret such a decision, and besides, why cheat your people of their rightful celebrations?'

‘I'm not! She is!'

‘She has good reason … certainly I can see it from Florentyna's point of view. If this was Cipres, I too would put this matter ahead of celebrations. She is entirely within her rights to pursue what is killing her people.'

‘Putting off our events will not raise the dead.' He gave her a look of mild admonishment at such a heartless comment and Darcelle shrugged. ‘Tamas, I'm furious!'

‘I can see that and I understand it.'

‘She's so angered me. Talking to me like I'm a servant.'

‘A servant of the Crown, perhaps?'

She slapped him — not hard, but not playfully either. ‘You know exactly what I mean. I deserve more respect. I'm not a child, but she still treats me as one. Florentyna should censure her haughty attitude. What's more, she attacked me publicly. It was humiliating.'

‘Would you like me to talk with her?'

‘She's being unreasonable — her usual obstinate and superior self!'

She hadn't said nay to him having a word with Florentyna. ‘It was only a picnic … a feast or two,' he reasoned, shrugging deeply to make her smile. ‘On the journey of life, it's not that important.'

But Darcelle was not amused. ‘You're not understanding, are you, my love? It's not the celebrations to which I refer. She has effectively cancelled the marriage.'

Tamas's humour left him. He blinked at her while the words sunk in. ‘I don't understand.'

Darcelle became more animated the moment she sensed his confusion. ‘No, I didn't think you had. Listen to me, Tamas. You and your Ciprean contingent will likely be told to climb aboard your ships and sail home. She brooks no discussion on when or where any wedding will take place — if at all. She's claiming she's too busy with matters of state, but is too short-sighted to take care of something that's going to do more for Morgravia in the wearing of one small golden ring than she might achieve in a lifetime.' Darcelle gave a bitter smirk. ‘She's never been comfortable with me marrying before she does. Let's face it, I don't see a tower of marriage betrothals on her desk. If Florentyna's not careful, our children are all she'll have to pass her precious crown on to.'

‘That would suit me,' Tamas thought, not realising he'd expressed it aloud.

‘And me,' Darcelle echoed. ‘She can't take this away from us.'

Tamas felt on shaky ground for the first time. It had not occurred to him that his happiness could be taken away on Queen Florentyna's whim. Still, he tempered his mood; even in their brief conversation he'd found the queen to be level-headed and charming, and surprisingly beautiful, despite her sister's claims of plainness. ‘Let's not jump to any wrong conclusions, my love. I promise you,' he said, taking her hands and kissing them gently, ‘nothing will stop me making you my queen.'

She nestled herself into his arms and kissed him hard. ‘I know,' she said, ‘and I want it more than anything.'

‘Be patient then. Let me talk with Florentyna.' As she opened her mouth to interject, he placed his fingertips to her lips. ‘Sovereign to sovereign,' he said, with a knowing smile. ‘Be still for a while. Wait here for me. I've sent my people away, so I could have some peace. You will not be disturbed, although guards will be posted outside. Listen to the song of birds, the hum of busy bees and enjoy the sunshine. I shall be back shortly with good news. You will have your ring, your crown, your very own realm — that I promise you.'

Darcelle embraced him, and he felt her trust in him. He would not let her down.

Florentyna stared, ashen-faced, at the body of Burrage. He had died on his balcony. It was only on the second search that people had discovered the chancellor slumped outside the windows of his chamber, and had laid him out on his bed.

He looked younger, now that his expression was no longer pulled into its permanent frown of worry.

‘… As though his heart just gave out, your majesty. Same as the others. Master Clem, who helped me to move him to the bed, took the liberty of closing his eyes,' a servant prattled.

‘Thank you, Fay,' the queen said. Florentyna dabbed at a helpless tear and sniffed. ‘Forgive me. He will be missed. I wish I understood what has happened to us. Struck down like this; no sign of disease or struggle.' She noticed Cassien, who had been standing silently by the door observing. ‘Leave us, please,' she ordered and the three other people in the room gladly departed.

Cassien presumed she wished the door closed and obliged. He waited.

‘Is this the demon's work?' she mused unhappily. ‘Is this how he plans to hurt the Crown? Is he going to pick us all off one by one?'

‘No, your majesty. This is not the work of a demon,' he answered truthfully.

‘How can you know that?'

‘I know.'

He said it with such quiet force that she took a step away to scrutinise him. ‘Then what is this? Disease? Do I have to cordon off Stoneheart?'

He shook his head.

‘And you know this for sure as well?' she said. Her tone was bitter, rather than mocking.

‘Your majesty, it will not occur again.' He didn't believe Florentyna would ever trust him if she knew he had caused this through carelessness. ‘I trust my instincts implicitly. I'm asking you to do the same. What has happened here is not an attack in any traditional sense.'

‘Then what is it?' she demanded in such an agonised voice that he felt her pain.

‘An aberration,' he offered.

She stared at him in stunned disbelief. ‘Oh, that's going to sound convincing when I have to stand before my people to reassure them.'

‘Then don't,' he said. ‘Follow the plan to contain it. No-one on the outside of Stoneheart need know. Burrage died of a heart attack, some of old age, the rest of poison from the filligo greens cooked last night and not boiled long enough to take away their toxicity.'

Now she looked at him in undisguised horror. ‘Lie?' she said baldly.

‘Not entirely a lie if you don't know what the truth is.'

She folded her arms and the set of her mouth told him that his reasoning was not going to wash.

He sighed. ‘Offer an explanation to appease the worry and prevent panic. Gather up your staff, hunt down anyone who is aware of the deaths and find out if they only know about isolated ones. If so, let it be. Anyone aware of multiple deaths, counsel them. Do it directly. They will be in awe that the queen is addressing them. Assure them you will find out what caused this, but that you need their silence until you do. Appeal to them, your majesty … tell them their quiet tongues will prevent panic and more deaths, and that's exactly what you're facing if word begins to get out.'

She nodded. He despised himself for making his lie sound so sensible, when he knew the true culprit.

‘Cassien, here lies my chancellor. A very good man. I can't even spare the time to grieve for him because lots of other very good men and women, and some children, have also died equally mysteriously. And he is the second chancellor I have lost in a short period, and both have left me under mysterious circumstances. Something is happening here. I don't understand it and I don't know what to do. I'm under siege. My counsel is dead, my sister suddenly hates me, I have a king under my roof — to whom we're not giving proper respect — and an attempt was made on my life yesterday morning. Can you appreciate how unravelled I am feeling?'

He nodded.

‘And you're here, calm as cake, suggesting this is all an aberration, when you yourself are perhaps the strangest of the bizarre happenings. You arrive out of nowhere, save my life, take charge, speak about demons and have knowledge I need yet you won't share because you belong to a secret society.' Her voice had risen but not become louder.

‘My queen, I come to you with only your safety and the preservation of the Crown as my single duty. I will not let you down, but you have to listen to me above any other, and perhaps even against your instincts. Burrage is dead. I am sorry for you, but let him go. Let the dead go and do as I say, for a greater threat is coming.'