Page 50 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘To retrieve your pendant?’
‘In part.’
Priessa considered. ‘My father carries his keys on his person,’ she said. ‘It may take me some time to liberate them.’ She concealed the prayer book. ‘Did you find anything of use in the library?’
Marosa shook her head and sat. They both gazed out of the window. Priessa was likely thinking of her mother, wholived at the Mentish court, where Aubrecht must be in an agony of confusion.
She had been so close to being with him, far away from her father. For an indulgent moment, she imagined herself in his arms, warm and safe and cherished, watching their children laugh and play.
And then she brushed the picture away, before it could destroy her. Aubrecht would not be able to save her from Cárscaro. She did not want him to try.
‘A year of desolation,’ Priessa murmured. ‘Why has no one come?’ When Marosa was silent, she rose. ‘Let me bring your supper. I will send Ruzio and Yscabel up.’
Marosa remained on the settle. After a time, her two other handmaidens arrived.
‘I saw Lord Bartian this morning,’ Ruzio said. ‘He says that some Cárscari have been called to the Fell Door.’
The news was like cold water soaking through her clothes, leaving her covered in goosebumps. The Fell Door was the name the people had given the crack in the mountain.
‘Why?’ she asked, fearing the answer. ‘What does Fýredel want with them?’
‘I do not wish to know.’ Ruzio reached for the cosmetic box. ‘You ought to sleep after supper.’
Marosa nodded. Ruzio combed rose oil through her thick hair, smoothing it with one hand as she went.
‘Yscabel,’ Marosa said gently, noting her wan face. Yscabel started. ‘How are you this evening?’
Yscabel wore her walnut hair in a braiding cap, like many women did at court after their commendations. She could no longer hide behind it, as she often had when she was younger.
‘I am well, Donmata,’ she said. ‘I believe the Saint will protect us in the palace.’
‘I am sure that you are right.’ Marosa patted the settle. ‘Come. Let us try our best not to think of Fýredel tonight.’ Yscabel moved to sit beside her. ‘Tell me, have you ever played whist?’
‘I’ve never taught her,’ Ruzio said.
‘That will not do. It is an Inysh game,’ Marosa told Yscabel. ‘I played it with Queen Sabran.’
Ruzio finished her combing and joined them. Yscabel managed a weak smile as Marosa dealt their cards.
Priessa soon returned with supper. By then, Yscabel looked a little better. When it was time for them to retire, she curled up on the truckle bed. Ruzio sat beside her, like a guard, while Marosa lay down and let her eyes close; sleep took her as quickly as a comet crossed the sky. She dreamed she was in the corridors, running towards Aubrecht, surrounded by candles with red flames. No matter how desperately she tried to reach him, he never came any closer.
Ruzio suddenly grasped her elbow, waking her with a jolt. Marosa opened her eyes and looked around in confusion, still mired in the dream. When she saw the disturbance, she sat up.
Her father stood in the doorway, observing them all without blinking. In the gloom of the bedchamber, his eyes were tiny embers burning in beds of ash.
His gaze snapped to Ruzio, who pulled Yscabel to her side. Priessa must be tending the candles in another room, as she often did during the night. Marosa willed her to stay away.
‘Father,’ she said, wary. ‘Are you well?’
‘Only seeing that you are here, daughter,’ King Sigoso said. ‘Where I can see you.’ His jaw seemed to work very hard as he spoke. ‘How did those weapons get to the commons?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Then I must ask others.’
He turned and left without a word, trailing the smell of bonfires. Yscabel was shaking.
‘That was not His Majesty,’ Ruzio said in a hoarse voice. ‘It was Fýredel, looking at us.’
