Page 19 of Among the Burning Flowers
She forced herself to feel nothing, think nothing, reveal nothing.
‘Such intemperance is insulting. Only an evildoer could imagine such things,’ she said. ‘What could have moved him to make such wild accusations now, so many years after the fact?’
‘I would not know. The mind of a heretic is a strange and twisted place.’ King Sigoso spared her an impassive glance. ‘You will answer his letter. You will assure him of your personal safety and convince him, in as many words, to cease his raving and leave Yscalin well alone, or I will send my entire army to fight him back. Do you understand, Marosa?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘Good.’ He dipped his quill and continued writing. ‘How is your betrothed?’
He knew very well. Every messenger dove that came to the palace was trained to fly to a bartizan near his quarters, where the Secretary of State would read the letters they carried.
‘Prince Aubrecht seems well,’ Marosa said, ‘though when last he wrote, he told me that Clan Vatten has been provoking the House of Lievelyn. He suspects they still want Mentendon back.’
Let him see that she had nothing to hide. Let him think that she did not mind him reading her letters, or had failed to realise he was doing it.
‘That is one of the reasons I made this betrothal,’ King Sigoso said. ‘The House of Lievelyn is young and intemperate. You will ensure they keep peace with the Hróthi. That none of this old grudge touches Yscalin.’
Yscalin had vocally opposed the Mentish Defiance, which had won the Ments their independence from Hróth. Marosa knew it would take some time for her Mentish subjects to trust her. That meant ensuring that the Hróthi did not try to claim back the land they had lost.
‘Of course.’ Marosa paused, realising. ‘Is … a time for our marriage decided, then?’
‘Yes. You will marry Prince Aubrecht on the first new moon in autumn. Preparations are underway as we speak. A wedding to demonstrate our prosperity.’
The tidings set her heart alight. The letter from Queen Sabran really must have impelled him to set the arrangements in stone.
At last, she knew when she would leave.
‘I am yours to command,’ she said, careful not to show her relief. ‘Where will it be held?’
‘The Great Sanctuary of Ortégardes. It is the oldest and grandest in Yscalin, befitting its Donmata.’ He returned his quill to its stand. ‘After the marriage, you will join Prince Aubrecht on progress in Mentendon. The Lievelyns intend to send you to eleven cities.’
‘I will endeavour to be a credit to Yscalin.’
‘I do hope so.’
In one movement, her father rose from his desk. She held still when he took her by the chin.
‘The Red Prince,’ he said, ‘is useful to us. But you are not a Ment. Once you are with child, you will return here, so I can ensure that you raise a virtuous heir for Yscalin. Your firstborn will not be tainted by a realm that trades with the wyrm lovers of the East.’ His grip tightened a little, nails pressing into her skin. ‘You won’t disappoint me, will you, Marosa?’
‘No, Father.’
‘And you won’t try to run away, like your mother?’
‘I am heir to this kingdom. I would never abandon it.’
‘Good.’
Marosa stared back at him, refusing to blink. Let him see his own eyes, the eyes of Oderica.
‘Write to your uncle. Give the letter to Lord Gastaldo by tomorrow eve,’ her father said, breaking the silent battle of wills. ‘And if you see Lord Wilstan Fynch, tell him to leave me in peace.’
****
She dreamed that night, as she often did, of her mother being hauled away.
Some Ersyris thought that roses soothed an unquiet dream. Queen Sahar had grown them on the terrace and stitched their petals into satin pouches for Marosa, tucking them under her pillow before she went to bed.
Now there were no roses, and so the nightmares came.
