HER COUSIN UNMASKED
Estora sank into the plush chair in her parlor in the
royal apartments with a cup of her bedtime tea. Her new rooms were
spacious and beautiful, but impersonal. With time, she’d transform
them to her own tastes, make them her home.
Time, she thought. What
time?
How could she
consider fabrics and colors and furnishings when every waking
moment brought visitors offering congratulations and seeking
favors? Or Cummings with interminable lists of meetings and parties
and requests? Or messengers bearing news of the land and
correspondence from those who were now her vassals? Or Colin to
discuss the business of the castle and the realm? Or or or!
She sighed. The only
quiet time she was able to claim were her visits with Zachary.
Destarion expressed guarded optimism that there were some
improvements in her husband’s condition. He rested more easily, his
fevers were less intense, and his wound was healing well. There had
been some brief awakenings, his dark brown eyes fluttering open,
but it was difficult to know how aware he was at those times. All
too soon he’d slip away again. Part of the reason, Destarion said,
was because of a soporific they gave him to keep him relaxed,
permitting his body the time and rest to heal itself.
Besides Estora’s
visits with Zachary, the only other quiet time she had was when she
went to bed. Usually she was so exhausted by the rigors of her day
that she slept soundly and deeply. How could she not sleep well in
the canopied monstrosity that had the softest down mattress on
which she’d ever lain?
Ellen, her Weapon,
entered the parlor. “Your Highness?”
“Yes?”
“Lord Spane has
asked to see you.”
Richmont. What did he want at this hour? She found
she was displeased, but he was her cousin and had done much to help
her. “I will see him.”
He had not been
around much of late. She imagined he’d been intriguing his way
about the castle and the noble quarter in the city, securing his
newly elevated position in court. He hadn’t been given a formal
office, but he’d taken it for granted he was her advisor and close
confidant as he had been for her father. She did not favor him, but
at the moment he was all she had.
“My lady,” he
drawled as he entered the parlor and swiftly bowed. “May we speak
privately?” He cast a significant look at Ellen.
Estora nodded a
dismissal and the Weapon exited to resume her vigil from outside.
“What is it, Richmont? It’s been a wearisome day and I’m ready for
my bed.”
He gave her a silky
smile she did not like.
“Your readiness for
bed is precisely why I’m here,” he said. “There is more yet for you
to attend to this night.”
“Can’t it wait?
Early tomorrow morning ought to be soon enough. Unless it is an
emergency?”
Richmont’s smile
deepened. “But now is bedtime. Should
you not be going to your husband’s bed as is befitting a new
bride?”
She set the teacup
aside and it rattled into its saucer. “He’s injured—not well. You
know that. He’ll rest better without my presence.”
“Even so, the
marriage of a king and queen dictates certain traditions be
followed. The witnesses have already assembled.”
“You can’t possibly
be suggesting . . . the rite of consummation? He’s ill, Richmont.”
“All the kings and
queens before you have observed the ritual, as must the
lord-governors, including your mother and father, who did so
unreservedly. Of course we are well-acquainted with the king’s
condition, so the act will be more . . . symbolic. Still, it must
be done to ensure the further appeasement of the lord-governors to
make your transition to regnant unimpeachable.”
“Oh, gods,” she
murmured, shaking her head.
Estora was certain
that most couples naturally desired to spend their marriage night,
and subsequent nights, together doing their duty, but in front of
others? She could only surmise that the whole tradition of
witnesses was carried on by those who were titillated by watching
their rulers perform the act.
“I could proclaim a
new law revoking the rite,” Estora mused, and as she thought about
it, it did not seem a bad idea.
“You could,”
Richmont agreed, “but then the lord-governors would definitely
challenge your right to reign.”
She stood and paced,
gown and robe flowing about her feet. Then she halted. “There is no
way Zachary is able. He’s not even conscious.”
“Destarion says he’s
had moments of awareness. And you underestimate the male drive. But
as I’ve said earlier, Zachary’s condition is being taken into
consideration and tonight will be symbolic. We merely ask that you
sleep beside him.”
“And this will
satisfy your witnesses?”
“For the purposes of
the rite, yes. For their personal enjoyment?
Doubtful.”
“Of all the
maddening things. I’m supposed to be queen, but everyone else is
telling me what to do. And even that which is most sacred and
private must be performed before an audience.”
“I suggest you
accustom yourself to it. It is your life now. So, will you do this
thing or must I throw you into his bed myself?”
“Richmont, I do not
care for your tone. You do not have the command of me, and in fact,
I am not sure I even wish you to take part in my
court.”
He closed in on her
and grasped her wrist, wrenching it. “Think again,” he
hissed.
“You’re hurting me,”
Estora protested.
He drew her close,
close enough that she felt the heat of his body. His face was
twisted in an ugly way she’d never seen before.
“I have labored hard
and long to bring this all to pass,” he said in a harsh whisper.
“You will not upset my plans.”
“What are you
talking about?” She tried to wrest her arm away from him but his
hand was like a cuff of steel.
“You will not ruin
everything I’ve labored for all these years, for you, your father,
and myself.” He released her, and shocked, she stepped away from
him rubbing her wrist.
“I believe,” he
continued, “willing or no, I can make you comply with my
wishes.”
“What are you
saying?”
“I am saying, my
dear cousin, there are things I know about you that could
irreparably harm you and your standing both in the realm and with
your clan. I know about you and a Green Rider named F’ryan
Coblebay.”
“Zachary already
knows about F’ryan and me.”
Richmont smirked.
“Yes, and Coblebay is dead and gone, but there are still
influential persons who know nothing of Zachary’s acceptance of
your . . . soiled virtue, and Zachary is in no condition, and may
never be, to come to your defense. There are still others of more
traditional leanings who’d frown upon your dalliances with a
commoner. They’d be all too eager to use the information to
discredit your standing across the realm. The people expect their
king to be marrying a maiden pure and unbesmirched by some lowly
messenger. If you do not obey my wishes, I can expand the story,
add salacious details, and send it out into the
world.”
Estora grew cold. He
was right about the traditionalists and how they’d react. Her
father had been one of them so she was well acquainted with the
mind-set. There were many people who’d go from celebrating her
marriage to condemning her. She could be exiled, or worse. And
where would that leave the realm? In the very turmoil they were
trying to avoid by having moved up the wedding.
“Wouldn’t that ruin
all the plans you’ve made for yourself?” she demanded.
“I have plans for
every contingency,” he replied, seeming to enjoy himself immensely.
“I can destroy not just your reputation, but that of your family’s
as well. Perhaps I could breed doubt about your
parentage.”
“My
parentage!”
He gazed at her as
if trying to discern something. “You favor your mother, but I don’t
see your father in you. Have you ever noticed how your sisters
aren’t quite the same in looks as you?”
“Richmont!”
“I seem to recall
your mother having her eye on a handsome minstrel a certain number
of years ago. He’d come to play and sing at the Day of Aeryon
feast. Hmm, the timing is about right for—”
“How dare you!”
“Oh, I dare. As I
question your paternity, I can call into question everything your
father ever did. Or in this case, did not do.” He laughed. “Or
maybe it is your sisters who are the bastards. Will your sister
prove strong enough to hold the reins of Coutre Province once I
begin leaking my little stories? Even the hint of rumor, even
innuendo, could bring her down. People will come to their own
conclusions. And, once I’ve succeeded in tearing down your father’s
bloodline, they will come to me, to my line, to govern the
province.”
Estora clenched her
hands at her sides in an effort to keep from clawing out his eyes.
She seethed within. It was true that if her father’s line failed,
Richmont would succeed as lord-governor of Coutre
Province.
“Tell me,” she said,
trying to master her voice, “why I should not direct my guards to
arrest you for threatening the queen? I could call my Weapon in
here right this instant.”
“You won’t because
I’ve been busy making friends, important and powerful friends.
Friends who are favorable toward me, but not necessarily toward
you, and I’ve a trusted and loyal servant with letters in his
keeping that will go to these friends of mine should anything
happen to me. The letters are filled with my little stories and my
friends will immediately spread them around.
“Of course,” he
added as if an afterthought, “theirs is not necessarily a
friendship based on trust, for I know their secrets, too. A simple
whisper in the right person’s ear is a powerful thing, you know. It
can ruin many lives, tear down entire governments.
“Just know, my dear
cousin, that one misstep on your part and the whole realm will not
only know of the depravities of your bloodline, but will
believe them.”
Estora refused to
weep or show weakness. She wished to scream, but she had to remain
calm. She lifted her chin. “My father loved you like the son he
never had, and you’ve betrayed him.”
“His feelings for me
made him easier to manipulate. For instance, if not for me
convincing him to hold out for the king, he’d have wed you to Alton
D’Yer, or that whelp of a lord-governor from Penburn. And can you
say that I’ve betrayed him? Truly, I am carrying out his wishes
that you be queen of the realm. I will only change tactics if
you betray him by ruining everything
we’ve done for you. If you obey my wishes, then we both benefit. If
you do not? Then I will just benefit in a different
way.
“Now it is time to
see your husband. You understand me, don’t you?”
“I believe I
understand all too well.” Estora shuddered with revulsion. “You
have enlightened me on many things this evening, Richmont.” He in
fact had allowed his mask of the good cousin to slip, and now that
she saw him for who he really was, she could watch him. Eventually
his self-interest would conflict with her concern for the
well-being of the realm. Had he not revealed himself and his
machinations this night, she’d never know what he was up to until
it was too late.
He gave her a
mocking bow.
“Very well,” she
said. “Let’s have this done.”
Estora led the way
out into the corridor that connected her private chambers with
Zachary’s. Awaiting her there was Colin, Ellen, and her maid.
Estora turned to the Weapon.
“Ellen,” she said,
“please see to it that you and the others who guard me do not
permit Lord Spane into my private rooms. If he wishes to see me, he
may make an appointment through Cummings like everyone
else.”
“Yes, Your
Highness,” the Weapon said.
The murderous look
Richmont passed her made her tremble, but she walked down the
corridor with back straight and chin held high. It was only a small
act of defiance, but she had to show her cousin he did not have
complete power over her. Now that she knew his true nature, she
would have to find a way to protect herself, and Zachary and her
family, too. But how could one shield oneself from lies that would
spread faster than wildfire? He even had her doubting her own
parentage. Could there be some truth to the story about the
minstrel? The idea of her mother straying . . . No, inconceivable.
Not her conservative, conscientious mother who had loved her
husband.
As Estora entered
Zachary’s dressing room, she had to put aside her worries for there
was another task before her this night. She led the way into his
bedchamber to perform her duty as his wife.