Shadowrise (66 page)

Betrayed?
Briony suddenly felt icy fear envelop her. She looked up at Enander but the king would not meet her eye. “Majesty, I ...” She found it hard to form words. “What have I done? May I know? I swear I have never ...”

“The list of your crimes is long, girl.” The high collar of Ananka’s elaborately beaded dress made her look like a Xandian hood snake. “If you were of common blood, any one of them would have you in the House of Tears. Lord Jenkin, tell the king again what she did to you.”

Jenkin Crowel, still with a thin purple shadow beneath one eye, cleared his throat. “Within a few short days of arriving in your gracious court as a legitimate envoy, King Enander, I was set upon by thugs in the public street and beaten almost to death. As I lay in the dirt in a pool of my own blood one of the ruffians leaned down and told me, “That is what happens to those who stand against the Eddons.”

“That’s a lie!” Briony shouted. It was, at least in part. After she had become convinced that Crowel had poisoned her little maid in an effort to kill Briony herself, she had instructed Dawet to hire some bully-boys to give Crowel a taste of his own cruelty, and then say to him that next time he tried any dangerous tricks his payment would be worse. No mention could have been made of the Eddons because Dawet would never even have hinted to those men who they were actually serving.

“I know what I heard,” Crowel said, doing his best to look both suffering and noble. “I thought I was dying. I thought they were the last words I would ever hear.”

“You are as much a liar as your master.” Briony forced herself to take a breath. “Even if I were behind such a terrible thing, would I have them use my name?” Just the sight of Crowel’s doughy, self-satisfied face fanned the rage inside her until its flames billowed. “If I was taking revenge for the treachery your master has shown my family, then the name Eddon would be the last thing you would hear all right, you pig, but you would never have got to your feet again!” Enander and the others were staring at her, Briony realized. She swallowed. “I am innocent of this charge, King Enander. Would you take the word of this . . . this upstart over the daughter of a brother king?”

The king narrowed his eyes. “Were this the only accusation against you, and the only witness, you would have some case to make, Princess. But there is more.”

“I am innocent of any wrongdoing, Majesty. I swear. Call on your witnesses.”

“Is it not as I told you, Enander?” said Ananka in a tone of triumph. “She plays the innocent so well. And yet she plotted nothing less than to steal your son and your throne!”

Enander’s throne? Oh, gods, that was treason. Even princesses might be put to death for treason, and not quickly. It was all she could do to force out the words. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Lady Ananka—I swear my innocence in front of Perin and all the gods!”

“You tried to entrap Prince Eneas, girl. Everybody knows. You made up to him, played the blushing virgin, all the while trying to lure him to your bed and bend him to your will! And that was only the beginning of your plot!”

“This is a dreadful lie!” Briony cried out. “Where is the prince? Ask him yourself. Our dealings were always honorable—which is more than I can say for what you do to me here!”

“He is beyond your reach,” Ananka said with obvious satisfaction. “Beyond your lies and cozening. Eneas has been sent away from Tessis this very hour, with his soldiers. The glamour you have drawn over him will do you no good.”

Briony was struggling so hard against her anger the room seemed to have gone dark except for the figures of the king and his consort. She stumbled a little as she turned to Enander. “Majesty, your son has done nothing wrong and neither have I. We have a friendship—nothing more. And I want nothing from him or you except help for my people, my country . . . your allies!”

Enander looked troubled. “That . . . that is not what I have heard.”

“Heard from whom?” Briony demanded. “With respect, King Enander, Lady Ananka does not like me, that is clear, although I have no idea why ...” But even as she said it she saw a look of amused complicity speed between Ananka and Jenkin Crowel and realized that the king’s consort had more than a stepmother’s interest in the proceedings.
She has made some bargain with the Tollys,
Briony thought.
The bitch has some plan of her own.
Even her flaring rage could not melt the chill settling deeper inside her as she realized how thoroughly matters were set against her here in Syan. “But . . . but that is hardly enough for judgment,” she finished. “Call back your son. Ask him.”

“My son has the care of the realm to think of,” said Enander. “But as I said, there are other witnesses. Feival Ulian, step forth and tell us what you know.”

“Feival . . . ?” Briony stared, astounded. “What does that mean?”

The young player at least had the grace, or skill, to look troubled as he stepped out and kneeled before the king. “It . . . it is difficult for me, Majesty. She is the daughter of my king, and for a long time we traveled together and were friends ...”

“Were? I
am
your friend! What are you saying?”

“ . . . But the things she has done will not stay locked inside me any longer. It is all true—she has spoken of it often in front of me. She has had one thought, and that was to make Prince Eneas love her so that through him she would eventually gain control of the throne of Syan. First she brought me in, and also put the other players to work as her spies—I can show you the accounts. And then she set her cap at the prince. She did her best to make love to him at every opportunity, full of sweet promises, leading him on while all the while confessing in private that she did not care for him, but only the throne of Syan.”

Briony gaped, then clambered to her feet. One of the soldiers caught her arm and held her in place. “Sweet Zoria, Feival, how can you do this to me? How can you tell such terrible, baldfaced lies . . . ?” But then she saw as if for the first time the rich clothes Feival wore, the jewelry she had not given him but had not bothered to wonder about, and realized that she had been outmaneuvered since she had first set foot in the court of Tessis. Ananka had found a weak reed and bent it to her own purposes. “It is none of it true, King Enander!” Briony said, turning to the throne. “It is . . . it is a conspiracy, and I do not understand the reason for it—but I am innocent! Ask Eneas! Bring him back!”

The king shook his head. “He is beyond your reach, girl, as my lady said.”

“But why would I do such things—why would I need to trick Eneas? Your son cares for me! He has said so himself ...”

“See? ” In her triumph Ananka almost rose from her chair, but thought better of it. “She as much as admits her plan.”

“But I turned him down, even though his representations to me were all honorable! Ask him! Do not condemn me on the word of a single treacherous servant without hearing what your own son has to say! My maid and my friend have both been poisoned in this castle—do you not see that someone here is trying to destroy me?”

“Tell the rest, Ulian,” Ananka said loudly, interrupting her. “Tell the king what this scheming creature said she would do after she tricked the king’s son into marriage.”

Briony started to object again, but the king held up his hand for silence “Let the servant speak.”

Feival could not meet Briony’s eye. “She said . . . she said that she would do whatever she must to see Eneas put on the throne in his father’s place.” He sighed, and although it might only have been at the guilt of telling such a gross lie, the young player seemed to be growing increasingly uncomfortable with his role.

Briony could only shake her head helplessly. “This is all madness!”

“And the rest,” Ananka commanded. “Be not afraid. Tell the king what you told me. Did she not say that she would use witchcraft to hasten the succession if necessary?”

Briony’s legs seemed to turn to water. One of the soldiers had to catch her to keep her from falling to the floor of the chapel. Witchcraft—against the king’s life? Ananka did not simply want her banished, she wanted her dead. “Lies . . . !” she said, but her voice sounded feeble.

Even Feival seemed stunned, as though this was a depth of treachery even he had not expected. “Witchcraft?”

“Tell him! Tell the king!” Ananka seemed ready to shake it out of him.

Feival swallowed. “I . . . to be honest, my lady . . . I do not . . . remember that ...”

“He is no doubt frightened to talk about it, Majesty.” Ananka said to Enander. “Frightened to say it in front of the girl herself—afraid she will put some curse on him.” The king’s mistress settled back into her seat, but the look she gave Feival suggested that his new mistress was less than happy with his performance. “But you can see what sort of plot we have uncovered—what danger you and your son were in!”

Enander shook his head. Was it drink that made him flush so, or something else? Was Ananka poisoning him as well?

“These are terrible things you are accused of, Briony Eddon,” the king said slowly, “and were your father not also a friend to us I would be tempted to pass sentence this moment.” He paused for a moment as a quiet hiss of frustration escaped the woman beside him. “But because of the long years of brotherhood between our nations I will deal with you as carefully as if you were one of my own. You will be confined to your chambers until I can investigate this matter in the depth it deserves.” He took a shaky breath. “This is as hard for us as it is for you, Princess, but you have brought it on yourself.”

“No!” Briony was shaking with fury, barely able to contain herself. Treacherous Feival, cruel Ananka, even the swine Jenkin Crowel—behind those careful masks, they must all be laughing at her! “Will you again let Jellon betray my family, King Enander? Are you so blind to what goes on in your own court?”

Many of the others gasped at Briony’s words, but the king only looked puzzled. “Jellon? What nonsense is this? Have you forgotten what country you are in?”

“Jellon! Where Hesper sold my father to the Hierosoline usurper, Ludis Drakava! And now this woman has come from there, schooled in treachery by her lover to bring down my kingdom—and perhaps yours as well! Can you not see? Nothing comes from Jellon but lies and betrayal!”

“You are distraught, young woman.” Enander looked old and tired. “Jellon is our ally, too, and they bring much to the world. The Jellonians are very good at weaving, you know.”

Briony stared at him. The king’s thoughts were more than slow, they were hopelessly muddled—there was no point in further arguing. She struggled to keep the misery from her face—at least she would not let that cow Ananka see her weep. “You wrong me,” was all she said, then turned and walked out of the chapel, praying that her legs would bear her. Guards silently moved in on either side of her. She would not be walking alone anymore, that was clear.

In the throne room outside, the king’s counselor Erasmias Jino approached her. “I apologize, Princess,” he said quietly. “I was not aware any of this was planned.”

“Neither was I. Which of us do you think was most surprised?” She let the guards lead her away.

Sister Utta could not make herself stand, although the storm that raged in her thoughts demanded some physical release. She wanted to run as far and as fast as she could to escape this impossible talk, or to throw things clattering to the floor until the noise and chaos wiped away everything she had just been told. But still it went on, the tale of how the mortals of Southmarch had destroyed the Twilight People’s royal family.

“It cannot be.” She looked imploringly at Kayyin. “You only do this because your dark mistress wants to torment us. Such horrible tales—admit they are all lies!”

“Of course they are lies,” Merolanna said angrily. She would no longer meet the fairy’s gaze. “Wicked lies. Told by this . . . this evil changeling to make us fearful, to destroy our faith.”

Kayyin spread his hands in a gesture that looked like resignation or abandonment. “Faith does not enter into it, Duchess. My mistress Yasammez ordered me to tell you the truth and that is what I did. I owe her nothing but my death so I can assure you I would not lie on her behalf, especially about this, the greatest tragedy of my people.” His expression grew distinctly colder. “And now I recall some of the ways in which I am
not
one of you, no matter how many years I played the counterfeit. My people do not run from the truth. It is the only reason we have survived in this world . . . this world that your kind have made.”

He turned and walked out of the room. Utta heard his light footfalls for a moment on the stairs, then the house was silent again.

“Do you see?” There was an edge of triumph in Merolanna’s voice—a feverish edge, Utta thought. “He knows we have seen through him. By leaving he fairly admits it!”

After days and days of shared captivity, Utta no longer had the strength or even the inclination to argue. After all, if Merolanna needed to believe such things to keep up her spirits, who was Utta to take them from her? But even so, she couldn’t be entirely silent.