The Falcon Throne (The Tarnished Crown Series) (25 page)

She could still feel the press of her mother’s lips to her childish cheek in reward for a task well done. Hear her mother saying “
Never stint on the salt, Lindara. It’s the key to a good preserve.
” That was why she
insisted on purchasing Evran salt from Cassinia. That had been her mother’s first choice. Let Humbert grumble at the cost, so long as he paid it.

Oh, it made her heart ache, how much she missed her mother.

“My lady,” said Eunise, from the kitchen doorway. “Lord Humbert has returned from the town, and sends me to fetch you.”

Not looking up, she eased her paring knife through a new lemon’s thick rind. “You may tell my father I’m occupied, and will come to him by and by.”

“My lady,” said Eunise, disapproving. “He bids you come at once.”

She put down knife and lemon with care. It was important, then.
Vidar. Vidar. Please let it be Vidar.
“At once? What’s amiss?”

“Amiss? I know naught of amiss, my lady. Lord Humbert’s not in the habit of confiding in me.”

Eunise’s snappish reply turned her towards the doorway. Since Vidar’s visit, and that business with his dagger, her former nurse’s manner had been tender as a gorse bush.

“Very well,” she said. “But you’ll stay here and make certain the cook keeps his fingers off my preserves. Lord Humbert’s in his closet?”

“Yes, my lady,” said sour Eunise.

Breathing tight, Lindara made her way from the kitchen to her father’s privy chamber, where he often worked on council matters not concluded at the castle. At its closed door she hesitated. He’d not like to see her garbed like a servant. She should take a moment to remove the coif and apron, find a jewelled caul for her hair. But then she remembered she was cross with him for keeping her caged in the townhouse. She opened the door without knocking, dressed how she liked.

“You wanted me, my lord?”

Seated in a wood and leather chair, one hand nursing a goblet of wine, the generous candlelight showed the great Lord Humbert weary. His grizzled beard was finger-tangled, a sure sign of perturbation. Seeing her, he frowned.

“Why do I pay silver ducats by the handful for ells of velvet when you’d as lief dress like a kitchen drab?”

“I’m preserving lemons, my lord. Salt and juice will ruin velvet.”

“Ah,” he said, his voice softening. “Your mother’s recipe?”

“Of course. And I’ve not finished yet, so—”

“Never mind your lemons, girl. I’ve something to tell you.” He jerked his chin at the closet’s empty chair. “Sit.”

Breathing tight again, she obeyed. “How went it with Arthgallo?”

“The man’s obsessed with leeches,” her father said, scowling. “I’ve lost less blood skirmishing in the Marches.”

“But you feel better?”

“I’m not dying. But enough of that. Lindara, I’ve news. You’re to wed with Roric. You’ll be Clemen’s new duchess, and mother to its next duke.”

“What?” she said faintly. She could hear her heartbeat, pounding in her ears. “Wed with Roric? But–I thought—”

“Thought what?” he said, staring.

She was going to be sick, surely. Vidar had failed her. He’d promised to speak with Humbert, secure her father’s blessing, and broken his word. Or his courage had failed. He’d never admit it but Godebert’s folly had scarred him. Now he cared what others thought, when he’d never cared before. But she didn’t. She never would, no matter what happened. So she must be brave for both of them.

She gave her father stare for stare. “My lord, I can’t wed with Roric.”

Humbert thudded his goblet to the small table by his side. “You can and you will. It’s been arranged.”

Just like that. No thought for her. She had to blink hard, to banish the sight-smearing anger. “By you?”

“Yes, by me. Roric and I agreed on it this afternoon, in the leechery.”

“The
leechery
?” Somehow, she found the strength to stand. Her legs were trembling, and her hands. “You bartered me to Roric while you were being fed on by
leeches
?”

Humbert’s face darkened. “Don’t you take that tone with me, girl. I—”

“Did he ask for me? Roric? Or am I to be thrust upon him against his will?”

“And don’t talk trumpery! Roric knows your value, Lindara, he—”

“Roric thinks of me as a
sister
!” she shouted. “I’ve no desire to marry him, my lord. You
know
who I would wed!”

Still seated, Humbert glared up at her. “Even before the Marches ruined him Vidar was never good enough for you. He’s the son of a traitor. And blood proves itself. You know it.”

“I know a man isn’t a staghound,” she retorted. “Or a stallion, or any beast. You can’t judge his worth with a studbook, or by what his father did. Vidar is a good and valiant man and he loves me. Roric doesn’t. I won’t wed him. I love Vidar.”

With a grunt, Humbert stood. His beard was jutting, an ominous sign. “Weren’t you listening? I’ve made you a duchess. That you’d argue such good fortune only proves you’re too childish to choose for yourself.”

She put up her own chin, fresh rage smothering fear. “Childish, my lord? I’m eighteen. Four years a legal woman.”

“Legal to wed,” her father said, his eyes cold. “But until that day you’re in my care and you’ll do as you’re told. Vidar’s denied you, Lindara. Best make your peace with that.”

Make her peace with it? How could she? Oh, why wouldn’t he understand? “Please, my lord. If you love me, don’t do this.”

“
If
I love you?” Humbert roared. “It’s
because
I love you that I do it! I was ready to abandon my duty to Roric for this marriage. To resign from the council so the likes of Aistan wouldn’t carp!”

“And what of your duty to me? Don’t you care that I don’t want this? I’ve pledged my heart and soul to Vidar. The thought of wedding Roric makes me feel like a whore!”

Humbert seized her arms, his calloused fingers cruelly biting. “Has Vidar touched you? Has he
breached
you? If he has, girl, I swear I’ll—”

“No,” she said, her voice breaking. “How could you think it? Vidar has his honour, and I have mine. My lord–Father–
please
—”

Releasing her, Humbert stepped back. “You prate to me of honour. Of
duty
. What of your duty to me, Lindara? What of the honour owed to our name? Your brothers are dead. Our house will die with me. The only hope for our bloodline lies with the sons born of your body. And you’d waste our nobility on
Vidar
? You’d choose Vidar over
Roric
, the great Berold’s grandson?”

“I’d choose love! Without it life is a desert!”

“You know nothing of life, girl! You’re a foolish, featherbrained chit.”

“I know my mother loved me,” she said, a tempest of tears rising. “I know she’d never forgive you for forcing me like this!”

Humbert slapped her. “Your mother would never forgive me for letting you marry the crippled, one-eyed son of a traitor! A man who only stood against Harald so he could fill his empty purse!”

“That’s unfair! You’re unfair!” she said, as the spilled tears flowed down her stinging cheek. “You said it yourself, Harald’s judgement was unjust. Whatever Godebert did, Vidar
never
—”

“It was never proven,” said Humbert. “There’s a difference.”

“Not to me! And if he was good enough to risk in your deposing of Harald, how can he
not
be good enough to sire my sons?”

“When it comes to wedding and bedding you, girl, Vidar isn’t good enough to wipe my shitty arse!
Love
him? One day as Clemen’s duchess and you’ll barely remember his name.”

“That’s not true.” Half-blinded, she dropped to her knees before her father. Reached out with trembling fingers and touched them to his hand. “Please, my lord. I’m begging you. Don’t make me do this.”

He snatched his hand away as though her touch were poison. “So I’m cursed, am I? Ailred dead, Collyn dead, and a daughter who cares more for her own childish, passing fancies than she does for the duty and honour owed her sire and her house!”

“And so am I cursed!” she cried. “With no mother to defend me, and a father who’d sacrifice my happiness in pursuit of his own lust for power!”

He slapped her again, so hard he felled her. “You’re an ungrateful bitch, Lindara! Defend you? Were your sweet mother here, girl, she’d
disown
you! Your rank disobedience would break her heart!”

Her head was ringing from the force of his blow. Sobbing, because she was hurt in body now as well as in heart, she hid her face in her folded arms so her father wouldn’t see what he’d achieved. She heard his breathing harshen as he bent close.

“Listen well, Lindara, for I’ll not say this again. You’ll wed with Roric, or with no man. The choice is yours. Life in Eaglerock, as Clemen’s duchess, cared for by Clemen’s duke, who’ll deny you no luxury your heart could desire–or a barred, barren chamber in Larkspur until you die of old age, withered and alone.”

Stunned, she kept her face hidden. He didn’t mean it, surely. Humbert was a hard man, toughened by years of conflict in the Marches, by his great griefs, by the burden of trying to constrain Harald at his worst, but… he couldn’t mean it. He couldn’t do that to his own flesh and blood, his only daughter, the sole child of his body yet living.

“Don’t test me, girl,” said Humbert. “Don’t think to play my sympathies, like a harp. In the matter of this marriage I’m no more yielding than stone.”

So. He did mean it. And what was she to do? Short of murder, she had no defence against him. He was the great Lord Humbert. She was his daughter. Every law, every opinion, sat firmly on his side. And clearly Roric was willing to abet him in his bullying. There was no hope for help there.

“
Lindara
. I’ll have your answer.”

She couldn’t defeat him, at least not face to face. Her father might deserve a dagger plunged and twisted in his belly but the mother who’d loved her, who’d taught her how to preserve lemons, would never want her to do it. She’d have to find another way to win. A sly way, a cunning way. A woman’s way, in this world where men’s wants mattered most.

Slowly, she sat up. Used her juice-stained apron to dry her tears. The sharp citrus scent gave her strength. She breathed in deeply, and felt hatred like acid etch itself into her soul.

“My lord,” she said, lifting her dry eyes. “All my life I’ve been your obedient daughter. If you decree Roric is a better match for me than Vidar then I’ll bow to your wishes, and wed him.”

Humbert frowned. “And no more caterwauling for Godebert’s second-rate heir?”

Caterwauling, he called it. Her desperate cry from the heart. He was a monster, her father. “His name shall never again pass my lips.”

“Good then!” said Humbert, and held out his hand. He was still stern, but his eyes were warmer. “I knew you’d be sensible. You’ll thank me one day, Lindara. When you’re holding your son, the next duke of Clemen, you’ll thank me.”

She let him help her stand. “Yes, my lord,” she murmured, her gaze downcast. “And I’m sorry I was vexatious. You took me by surprise with this news. I never thought I’d be Clemen’s duchess.”

“Nor me,” he said, and laughed. “Fate’s wheel turns strangely.”

Looking up, she pretended anxiety. “I fear to fail you, my lord.”

Another laugh. “Fail me? For shame, girl. You only fail me when you’re undaughterly. Promise me you’ll mind your manners and we’ll be honey-sweet.”

As if she were one of his hunting bitches caught sniffing after the wrong dog. She smiled at him, deceitful, and showed him only what he wished to see: a biddable daughter, brought meekly to heel. “I promise. Now, if you please, I’d return to my lemons.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, briskly jovial. “And as for dinner, you may suit yourself. I dine with Aistan tonight. We’ve council business to chew on.”

“Then I shall join you for breakfast.”

“In the morning I must break bread with some exarchites.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll return for you in the afternoon. We’ll see Roric then, together, and you’ll tell him how he’s made you the happiest maid in Clemen.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, and curtsied. “Thank you, my lord.”

She closed his closet door very softly behind her. Hurried back to the small kitchen and snatched up her sharp knife. And as she stabbed and stabbed more lemons, imagined the juice they spilled was his blood.

That night her sleep was fitful, haunted by dreams of betrayal and despair. At last, any hope of rest abandoned, she watched the false dawn give way to the rising sun, then daylight, and while the sky lightened she plotted her revenge.

“Eunise,” she said, as her old nurse laced her silk-and-velvet striped sleeves to her bodice, “there’s a herbary woman I’ve heard tell of in the township. She has a little shop in Comfrey Lane. I’d have words with her this morning. D’you see that sealed letter on the chest, there? Tell the runner-boy to deliver it, so she might be warned I’m coming.”

Eunise’s busy fingers ceased their lacing. “A herbary woman, my lady? Are you unwell?”

“No. But I am to be married, Eunise. And since my first duty will be to give Clemen a healthy heir, I must—”

“My lady!” Eunise was near to squealing. “Do you marry the lord Roric?”

Of course the old wretch would be delighted. “You’re not to breathe a word of it beyond these chambers, Eunise. If you do I’ll see you beaten and locked in a cupboard, I swear!”

Fingers trembling now, Eunise began lacing the other sleeve. “No–I mean yes–oh,
my lady
! This is wondrous good news! You must be so happy!”

Yes, indeed. Happy as a man being dragged to the gallows. “I’m the most fortunate of maids, Eunise.”

“But my lady, what need is there for some untried herbary woman recommended by idle chatter? Master Arthgallo—”

“Is a man. I’ve no desire to unburden my womanly heart to him.”

“But—”

“Eunise, don’t
scribble
! Would you spoil my morning with your carping? Surely I may be allowed to choose my own physick without you pecking at me like a crotchety hen!”

Eunise’s sallow cheeks flushed. “Lord Humbert relies on me to—”

“Lord Humbert scarcely remembers you exist,” she snapped. “And he knows better than to meddle in womanish affairs. Now do as you’re bid. Give my letter to the runner-boy then bring me my breakfast.”