Page 5 of Among the Burning Flowers
‘Surely he listens to his own daughter.’
‘Not as often as you might suppose.’
The words scraped out against her will, like a cough that had burned in her throat for too long. Fynch considered her with small brown eyes, reminding her of his inquisitive namesake.
‘Donmata,’ he said, ‘may I ask when you last left the Palace of Salvation?’
‘When I attended the celebration to mark the thousandth year of Berethnet rule.’
‘That was three years ago.’
‘Indeed.’
Her father had sent her with a heavy contingent of guards. All the way down the mountain, Marosa had thought he would change his mind. And yet the coach had trundled on, out into the lavender.
After a tiring journey, she had been escorted on to a royal galleon, thePrince Therico. Her first sight of the sea, the stormy coast of Inys – and then its fabled capital, Ascalon. The seat of Virtudom.
Queen Sabran had been a generous host. Her elegance and wit had dazzled Marosa. They were close in age, and had both lost their mothers young. Perhaps that was why Sabran had paid such careful attention to her comfort, introducing her to as many people as she could. Perhaps it was also why Sabran had refrained from rulingon whether Queen Sahar had forfeited her place in Halgalant, instead leaving the decision to the Principal Sanctarian of Yscalin.
Throughout the twelve days of celebrations, Marosa had dined with Mentish courtiers, all wanting to pay their respects to their future High Princess. She had danced with lords and chieftains, played cards with the Ladies of the Bedchamber, hunted in Chesten Forest. She had even been able to see the Ersyri ambassador, Chassar uq-Ispad, who had not set foot in Cárscaro since her mother was pronounced dead. All diplomacy between Yscalin and the South had ended that day, but Inys maintained a cordial relationship with the Ersyr, and Chassar – a charming giant of a man – had wanted to assure himself of her wellbeing.
Donmata, he had said, keeping his voice low,if ever you wished to visit the Ersyr, your uncle and aunt would be overjoyed to receive you in Rauca.
You are very kind, Your Excellency,but Ido not think that will be possible.
Not yet.
‘It seems a long time,’ Fynch said, jolting Marosa back to the present. ‘Do you not wish to see more of Yscalin?’
She wanted to tell him that her father had deliberated for months before permitting her to go to Inys. That he would not have let her leave, except that he had no desire to go, and the heir was the only acceptable proxy. That his grip on her had tightened ever since.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘but His Majesty has no other children. I believe he worries for my safety.’
Fynch did not reply at once, but she knew what he was thinking. Her premature death would cause a succession crisis, but even the unwed and heirless Queen Sabran didnot spend her days confined to a single palace, andherbloodline kept the Nameless One bound.
‘I understand,’ Fynch said. ‘Have you any word on your marriage to Prince Aubrecht?’
‘His Majesty will set a date in due course.’
Again, Fynch was too polite to comment, and again, Marosa read his thoughts. She was some way into her childbearing years and had no obvious reason not to marry at once.
Perhaps this sudden interest from Inys would finally spur her father to action. The thought lifted her spirits.
‘I sail for Ascalon next week,’ Fynch said. ‘This heat is proving too much for my constitution.’ He finished his drink. ‘I will return to Cárscaro in time for the Feast of Temperance.’
‘I doubt the heat will have eased by then,’ Marosa said, ‘but I understand the need for a reprieve, my lord.’
‘You are most gracious.’
Inys was a cold and rainy isle, battered by the rough winds of the Ashen Sea. It was a wonder Fynch could endure Yscalin at all, but he only sailed back to see his daughter once or twice a year.
Marosa could see why. She lived in a place that was haunted by absence, and if she had been free to choose, she would not have stayed for long.
‘I trust that you received a letter from Her Majesty today.’ Fynch rose. ‘Queen Sabran would be very glad to see you again, if you ever wished to visit. Good afternoon, Your Radiance.’
‘And to you, Your Grace.’
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