Through Wolf's Eyes (52 page)

Instead, Jet had become impatient, even sniping,
hinting that she was a tease or even unable to respond to his
attentions. This had been rather insulting. She might be unpracticed,
but her mother had told her about the mechanics and she was certain
there was nothing wrong with
her
!

As their courtship had extended, Elise had tried to
overlook the occasional innuendos that hinted her betrothed visited the
camp followers, but learning that he had been in a brothel when his
sister had been assaulted—and apparently not for the first time in his
life—had been a real blow. Jet was nothing like she imagined and she
was bound to him by her own wish.

Elise was too honest with herself to accept the
tempting notion that Jet's behavior was a result of his mother's
machinations. The idea was tantalizing, inviting her dream to take on
new life. In that new fantasy, she would rescue him from the
sorceress's control, grinding the jet emblem on his forehead into dust
beneath her heel. Then he would fall to his knees before her, swearing
his undying love, and become the man of her dreams.

No. As much as she wished that were the truth, Elise must
honestly
admit that the truth of Jet's character—no better, but no worse than
many a young man of his age—had been there all along. Hadn't there been
the rumors about why Duke Redbriar's granddaughter vanished from the
social scene? Hadn't Trissa Wellward hinted at things when she and Jet
were keeping company some years ago? Hadn't Trissa been devastated
beyond proportion when Melina Shield put an end to the relationship?

Hadn't there been the time, back when Elise herself
was fourteen and playing hide-and-seek with Jet and his siblings, that
he had found her hiding place and used that privacy to steal a kiss and
fumble at her breast? At the time she had been flattered and curiously
thrilled that the handsome older boy had seen her as a woman. Now she
realized that his behavior was all of a type.

No. Jet had only been a hero from a romantic ballad
in Elise's own imagination. She forgave him and herself, but that
didn't change that if they married he would likely be unfaithful and
difficult. If Melina Shield ever raised the curse, that is. . . .

"We must stop Lady Melina," Elise said softly.
"Otherwise what she said is perfectly true. Whoever is on the throne,
she will find a way to rule. Even now, the most likely contenders
include her husband and two of her children. Hawk Haven must be ruled
honestly, not through sorcery."

Ninette blanched, but to her credit did not try to
dissuade Elise. Perhaps in the privacy of her own thoughts she had been
reaching the same decision. Setting her teacup on the tray, Ninette
asked simply:

"How?"

"First, someone else must know what we do," Elise said. "Otherwise we may join those who are bound to silence."

"Who?"

Elise had been about to suggest her father, but the
sudden shrill cry of a falcon, heard as if it called greeting while
passing over their pavilion, was inspiration.

"My father might or might not believe us, but I'm certain that Derian and Firekeeper would. Let's start there."

"How about Sir Jared? He has the king's ear."

"Then him as well, if he is present." Elise snatched
up a straw bonnet. "Let's go. If I wait too long, I'm going to lose my
nerve."

And I hope,
she thought as they left the pavilion,
that in telling this I don't lose my tongue.

W
ITHOUT, THE SUMMER MORNING
had become quite hot and thick, but within the thick cobblestone walls
of the Toll House, the temperature was comfortable. The windows at
either end of the room in which King Tedric and Allister Seagleam were
meeting were open, curtained in fine woven fabric to keep out both
insects and the river miasma. Bowls of rose incense burned in front of
each window as a further precaution against river ills, giving the room
the scent of a well-born lady's private chamber.

It is,
thought Allister Seagleam,
a strange ambience for a meeting between two men.

King Tedric had suggested—and Allister readily
agreed— that their first conference be kept as small as possible. They
had settled on themselves, two assistants to take notes, and two guards
to watch the doors and handle the inevitable interruptions. These were
effacing themselves as much as possible, so Allister had the curious
feeling that he was alone with his uncle.

Today's meeting was being held on the Good Crossing
side of the Toll House, technically within territory owned by Bright
Bay; thus Hawk Haven had already made the first concession. Looking at
the steady old man seated across from him, Allister felt that King
Tedric had lost nothing. Last night he had only noticed the king's
courtesy and majesty. Today he saw more.

King Tedric was evidently ill. Perhaps the malady was
nothing more than advancing age, but, like many of Bright Bay's
nobility, Allister had studied some medicine. Those lessons were meant
to enable him to act as a medic if caught far from shore on one of the
sea commands that any able-bodied member of the nobility took as a
matter of course. Today they showed Allister the paleness of the king's
face, the slight blueness around his lips, and told him: "A weak heart.
Uncle Tedric must resolve this contention on the matter of his heir or
leave his kingdom in chaos when his heart fails him."

Resembling more than a little the eagle woven into
the brocade fabric of his waistcoat, King Tedric leaned forward and
said with a curious bluntness that was not impolite:

"So. I have named my heir. Why are you here, Nephew?"

"Because, when we asked for this meeting," Allister
answered steadily, "you had not named your heir. I was born to be your
heir—or at any rate the heir to Hawk Haven. I thought you should have a
look at me before you made up your mind."

King Tedric nodded. "I see you. Why should you be chosen over someone I have known all his or her life?"

"Your father, my grandfather, King Chalmer, arranged
for my mother to marry my father so that a prince and princess of both
kingdoms might reunite the realms."

"That's true. Do you think it would work?"

Allister saw the faintest twinkle in the old man's pale eyes and answered honestly:

"I don't really know. I have been told that many of
your people believe that I am heir to Bright Bay. You know and I know
that I am not. I do not think that Gustin the Fourth will step down in
favor of me, even if you granted me your throne. However, there is hope
that perhaps one of my children might wed one of Gustin's children—and
as of yet she has none—and so in time resolve the separation."

"Trusting to an unborn child and the actions of not
just your generation but your grandchild's generation to bring the
solution." Tedric sighed. "That is a slim hope. The best thing would
have been to wed you when you were of age to one
of
your cousins, my daughter Lovella, perhaps, or Rosene's Zorana.
Marras's daughter would have been ideal as she was already in line for
our throne, but poor Marigolde didn't live beyond her first year."

"That might have been ideal," Allister agreed, "but
by the time I was a young man, it was already evident that the
experiment was a mistake—that suited as they were by birth and age, my
parents were not suited by temperament. They lived apart from shortly
after my birth, but Princess Caryl was forced by politics to remain in
Bright Bay, an alien princess in a hostile country. She might have been
accepted eventually, but Mother was not a tactful woman . . ."

"None of King Chalmer's other children were," Tedric said grumpily. "Why should Caryl be different?"

Allister hid a smile. "And she made many people hate
her. These would have refused to follow me as king even if the union of
which King Chalmer and Queen Gustin the Second had briefly dreamed had
come to pass. My father was among those who hated Princess Caryl—as
well as the ambivalence of his own position. Another powerful group who
opposed Mother was the family of Crown Prince Basil's wife, who saw
Mother's marriage to Father as an attempt to unseat their daughter as
queen-to-be. Indeed, Crown Prince Basil wasn't delighted by the thought
that his younger brother might be set above him at the whim of his
mother—a resentment that grew stronger after I was born and Uncle Basil
and his wife remained childless."

"They were quite right to resent you," King Tedric
grunted. "I have often thought that if my father and your grandmother
wished to make this great plan work they should have wed their heirs,
but that would have been a greater gamble. This one left them the
elegant pretense that the marriage was merely of noble to noble, not of
heir to heir."

"True," Duke Allister said, "but because they did not
take that gamble, Gustin the Fourth is ruler after her grandmother and
father rather than I."

"Do you resent that?" King Tedric asked.

"Not really," Allister answered honestly. "I grew to manhood
knowing
that I was issue of a failed venture. Neither of my parents were unkind
to me. My father assured that I was granted name and title. My mother
schooled me in the traditions of both my countries."

"Both?"

"She did not wish me at disadvantage in anything."

"That's Caryl."

"It's strange," Allister mused aloud. "My parents
died within a year of each other—both in their mid-fifties. Neither
could remarry, of course, but as far as I know neither ever became
seriously involved with another person. Mother pined for Father, I
think. I don't know whether she had focused so much of her energy on
hating him that when he was gone she lost all reason for living or
whether she secretly loved him."

"Your father died at sea?"

"That's right. It's a very usual death for a member
of the Bright Bay nobility. Most of our wealth comes from the sea and
we join our people in harvesting it."

Allister was acutely aware of King Tedric studying
him. His first impulse was to look away. Then he squared his shoulders
and met the old man's gaze.

"Tell me, Allister," the old king said, "do you want to be my heir?"

"Not," Allister replied with an answering bluntness
of which he was certain Queen Gustin would not approve, "without the
approval of your people. Otherwise, I am inviting worse, not better,
for your people and for those of Bright Bay."

"I notice you do not say for your people and for mine."

"I told you, my mother reared me to think of both
countries as my own. Although I have lived all my life in Bright Bay,
it is difficult to escape such early indoctrination."

Allister wondered if he had said too much. He had
selected the clerk who sat scribbling notes a few places down the
table, but the man was duty bound to report to Queen Gustin. She might
well consider his making his own terms—when her orders had been to do
his best to win the Hawk Haven throne—an act of treason. King Tedric
hadn't seemed to
mind, but Allister's home and lands were not within King Tedric's kingdom.

"For you to be accepted within Hawk Haven at all,"
Tedric said after a long pause, "you would need to be allied with one
of our Great Houses. I would offer you one of my own children or
grandchildren, but I have none. If I had any, I would not be sitting
here with you."

"I suppose not," Allister agreed. He wondered about
the wolf girl of whom he had heard. Some said that she was Tedric's
granddaughter, others simply a contrivance of Earl Kestrel's. He
decided to wait to ask about her until he could introduce the subject
gracefully.

"I have," Tedric sighed, "nieces and nephews of your
age, but they are married and you are married. Beginning this
proposition with several divorces would undo any good we could do."

"True."

"Thus we move to the next generation, playing games
with young lives as my father played with the lives of Caryl and Tavis.
Do we want to risk that?"

"I don't know."

Allister thought of the letter from Zorana Archer
folded within his breast pocket. The longer he spoke with the king, the
more he was certain that she had acted of her own accord, not with the
king's knowledge. Should he tell the king? What might Tedric's reaction
be? Would the king thank Allister for his honesty or would he condemn
him for treating with— or perhaps for misrepresenting—one of his nieces?

Allister waited, knowing that he could not wait too
long or the moment would pass. King Tedric accepted a glass of sweet
pear cider from his clerk and continued thoughtfully:

"Are any of your children married?"

"No."

"Betrothed?"

"My eldest, Shad, is betrothed to a girl of good family in Bright Bay. It is a political arrangement."

"Aren't they all," the king said breezily.

"I understand that your father married for love."

"And was forced to distribute titles to appease his angry
Great
Houses. These days most marriages among our Great Houses are alliances.
Sometimes they work out quite well. Elexa has become my right hand,
though initially we did not care for each other. Other times these
marriages do not work at all and create trouble for the families."

"Ah."

"Are you indicating that Shad's political betrothal could be broken if necessary?"

"Queen Gustin would probably insist."

"I see."

A knock sounded on the door without. King Tedric's guard—Sir Dirkin Eastbranch, Allister recalled—went to answer it.

"Yes?"

A note was passed in. Sir Dirkin carried it to the
king, who broke the seal and read it. Smiling wearily, he passed it to
Allister.

"As you can see, my physician is reminding me that my
heart is not strong and that I should rest. As much as I am enjoying
this conversation, I believe I should obey."