Milady’s Wiles             by: Brandy Dewinter, with the invaluable assistance of P.J. Wright

 

Chapter 7 - A Dangerous Sunset

Lyonidas quickly demonstrated that his disdain for court functions was not a passing whim. At the next scheduled petition review he arrived on time, nodded politely to Queen Selay, and listened attentively to the first case.

Or tried to. It was another longwinded review of some minor matter. That was actually surprising to me. Typically, the Chamberlain would have taken care of these less important issues, except for a token few peasant petitions at each session. In the past the peasant petitions had come near the end of the session, as they had been the day that Lyonidas had returned. However, for the first full session Lyonidas attended as Regent, peasant petitions came first.

The issue at hand dealt with a complaint that a farmer’s hens had quit laying eggs when the defendant’s dog had treed some sort of animal near their pen. Both the dog’s barking and the creature’s threat had frightened the stupid chickens.

Lyonidas had learned at least part of his lesson. His first question for the plaintiff was to ask what the man would like to have done. Here was another surprise. The man had been stuttering and stammering and took forever to get anything out, until that question. In contrast, this answer was immediate. He wanted restitution, not revenge. Lyonidas nodded as though this were a wise request but then stood pensively.

He looked at Queen Selay.

She smiled back quite serenely.

He looked at me.

I struggled to match Mother’s quiet smile.

A bit of twitter started up among those in attendance and I could see a flush start to creep up Lyonidas’ neck. I knew I shouldn’t help him until Mother offered, but . . . well, I don’t know why . . . I just couldn’t let him stand there unsupported.

"Milord Regent, if I may be so bold as to ask a question," I said quietly.

His nod was so full of gratitude that I now felt worse for having let it go so long.

I spoke to the plaintiff. "Do you know the defendant very well?"

He answered shyly, but without the painful slowness of his earlier testimony, "Yes, Your Highness. We have been neighbors for years."

"What skill does he possess that you most admire?" I continued.

"Well, he’s pretty good with animals. He spends a lot less time whackin’ on his mule to get it to do what he wants than I do on mine."

This caused a titter of laughter to go through the throne room, which in turn caused the man to shuffle uncertainly. His poor hat, which he had removed when he entered the chamber, had already been twisted as he testified. Now his white-knuckled grip threatened to destroy it entirely. I was about to offer a solution to the case but something made me stop. Instead, I just looked at Lyonidas, smiled another quiet smile, and stepped back to my place by Queen Selay’s side.

His eyes first widened when he saw me yield the floor to him, then softened in a way that was most . . . unsettling. Now it was my turn to blush and look at the floor, but when I raised my eyes to his, they were still looking at me with that strange expression.

Lyonidas straightened up and looked directly at Queen Selay, whose expression seemed not to have changed a whit. Now, Lyonidas had a con-fident smile of his own to match her serenity.

"You," he said, pointing at the defendant, "will trade mules with this man until you have trained the one he currently has as well as your own. In addition, keep that dog under control. If you’re such a good animal trainer then that should be within your grasp."

"Is this acceptable to you?" he asked the plaintiff, whose head jerked in a marionette nod.

Then, in tones obviously matching those Mother had used previously he said to her, "If, that is, this judgment is acceptable to the Queen?"

She nodded with grave acceptance, then glanced at the Chamberlain.

Hugh called out for the next petition to come forward.

When it was apparent that this would be another minor peasant squab-ble I was even more surprised. I had been attending these petition days since I could walk and I had never seen so much time spent on so little substance. The sigh Lyonidas released when the context of the case became apparent was almost as comical as the previous plaintiff’s nervousness. He stood there quietly though, hearing the case through.

After once again determining that this plaintiff wanted restitution as well, he asked the newest question in his judicial arsenal and deter-mined that the defendant’s wife made excellent bread. Lyonidas assigned a penalty of providing her hitherto secret recipe to the plaintiff’s wife. The plaintiff’s pleasure at this verdict was obvious to all, but I thought the defendant’s horror was more interesting. I made a mental note to meet his wife some day.

Yet a third pair of peasants came forward and this was just too much for Lyonidas. He glanced around as though looking for some sort of escape from overwhelming enemies, to once again find his gaze captured by the Queen’s serene smile.

Though I wasn’t looking at her I could feel a tension in her shoulder where my hand lightly rested. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but I could hear the power within it.

"Prince Lyonidas, I’m afraid these proceedings are taking up a lot of your time. Perhaps I could continue in your stead in order to allow you to take care of your other duties."

There had been a slightly glazed look in his eyes while she spoke, but as she concluded his head nodded with the same marionette motion we had seen earlier on the first plaintiff. Then he jerked and nodded more naturally.

"Your Majesty, if I could impose on you to carry on here, I must make preparations for the arrival of additional nobles from High Canyon. King Kragdle desires that more of our people should learn some of the skills for which Achaiea is famous."

Then I heard a mutter that I don’t think he really intended to reach either my ears, or Mother’s, "Though courtly formality is certainly not one I intend to export back to High Canyon."

"Of course, Milord Regent, as you wish," Queen Selay replied, then looked over at Julia. "Julia, please escort the Regent."

Julia roused from wherever her mind had taken her and looked up with a bright smile at Lyonidas. His own smile answered hers and they swept from the room with more energy than combined in all those required to remain.

It was only after they had left that I realized that there were no High Canyon nobles left in the room, only a couple of faceless guards interspersed with our own Achaiean soldiers in a joint detail.

Queen Selay’s next glance was to the Chamberlain and he nodded brief-ly. Instead of letting the peasants present their own case, Hugh summa-rized it and recommended a resolution. Mother nodded and the case was disposed of within minutes. The next case was much more substantial, dealing with the allocation of lands among the survivors of nobles killed in the recent war. Queen Selay decided that with dispatch but imme-diately after she had elevated a young lord to a newly defined barony, she paused.

"Baron Spencer, will you swear fealty now?" she asked, but in a tone that made it an order.

"Of course, Your Majesty," he answered, moving to kneel before her.

"No" she interrupted him, "my position is temporary. You must swear fealty to the Princess."

He was surprised but not unwilling. Actually, from the look of as-sessment he gave me I wondered if he actually preferred the gesture. His father had been one of the outlying nobles and we had never before met. To the best of my knowledge he knew nothing of our masquerade. Certainly his demeanor betrayed no hint that he thought I was anything other than what I appeared when he knelt and offered his hands to mine.

As I stepped forward I felt a strange tension again, like what I had sensed when Mother had spoken to Lyonidas. It was as though the white-cold mind were gathering energy, but distant somehow. Before I had felt like a sword heated to blinding brilliance, hovering before an equally brilliant field of snow. Now I felt as though I watched that same sword from just far enough away to avoid the heat, yet still it moved under my command. I took Spencer’s hands within my own, their dark strength contrasting sharply with my own pale fingers, and looked in to his eyes.

As I repeated the standard words I realized another aspect of Mother’s plan. This oath bound Spencer to me as his King, even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

"Spencer, Baron of North Vale, do you swear fealty to Achaiea and to her Monarch? Do you swear to lay your fortune at her feet and if need be, to sacrifice your life on the altar of her protection?"

I felt the strange new aspect of the white-cold mind flow from my eyes to his as Spencer answered, "I swear." With whatever senses Mother had shared when she impressed her mannerisms upon me, I knew that Baron Spencer was now loyal with a force beyond words. His life now belonged to me, personally.

Then he blinked and grinned and I knew he didn’t find the prospect of belonging to me, personally, at all distasteful. Or, at least, he didn’t think it would be. I smiled in reflex and saw his grin widen to something almost childlike in its pleasure, though there were undercurrents that of-fered promises decidedly not appropriate for children.

And that awoke within me feelings that I definitely didn’t want to examine right then. I let his hands drop and stood back to my place, feeling his eyes on me even as my own eyes looked at Mother. She nodded slightly to reassure me that this was acceptable to her then glanced at Hugh to call for the next petition.

A dozen barons were confirmed that day, each swearing fealty to the realm, but through my hands and so to me as well. Each time I felt the power build within me as I took their oath, channeling through them into a much tighter binding than they might have thought they were going to be making.

Yet all these acts took surprisingly little time, less actually than had been spent on just the two cases that Lyonidas had personally re-viewed. This was more like the petition audiences that I remembered: focused, efficient, and purposeful. After a short but busy time, Queen Selay stood.

"Cherysse, please accompany me," she ordered, which amounted to a dismissal of the others in attendance.

I followed her to her chambers, where she sat in her accustomed chair and waved me to a nearby stool. Greyshadow was in her lap before she could speak but as soon as the cat was settled she challenged me.

"What did you observe today?"

"Lyonidas doesn’t have a chance. Kragdle doesn’t have a prayer," I answered bluntly, if obliquely.

Queen Selay laughed, but nodded as well. It was good to hear her laugh. She’d done precious little of that since Father had died. Another nod urged me to continue.

"Is that what you meant about using the white-cold mind without being consumed by it?" I asked, again with a comment that would have seemed irrelevant to most of those who had attended the audience.

"Yes," she replied. "You don’t need, in fact don’t want the con-suming anger if all you are doing is reinforcing a desire the target already possesses. Yet the reinforcement is strong. I don’t think Lyonidas will be back to hear more petitions. And you need never doubt the loyalty of those who swore fealty to you today."

I mused, "The next time you have a council meeting I assume Hugh will have trivial issues lined up until once again Lyonidas escapes."

This made her smile again, pleased that I had noticed the irregular agenda, "Yes. We’ll use the rest of the time to reinforce the oaths of fealty of the council members. We need to get that in before these new nobles that Lyonidas referred to arrive and become involved."

"Mother, do you play me with the same skill you use on Lyonidas?"

"What do you think?" she didn’t answer. I recognized the technique, but didn’t know exactly what to do about it so I answered her question instead.

"I don’t know. Everything I do seems perfectly reasonable," then I had to giggle, "well, except for wearing dresses. But sometimes I look above my head for the strings you’re manipulating."

A somber look appeared on her features. She nodded to me in confir-mation of my perception and of respect for my insight.

"Dear child, there are things that you need to do that I don’t think you could do without my help. Things that I don’t think I want you to be able to do on your own. Yet they are necessary if Achaiea is to sur-vive, if you are to survive. When the time comes that you recognize all that I have done to you, please don’t hate me."

"Mother, I could never hate you!" I denied, but she only looked away in refusal to argue.

When she looked up again, new resolution was in her eyes. And a new topic was on her lips.

"Tonight we will have another formal dinner. This time, since Lyonidas has enjoyed Julia’s company for the day we will focus his atten-tion on you for the dinner. You must, of course, wear your mourning black, but I promise you that the black gown you wear will outshine any other gowns no matter how colorful."

True to her words, the gown she chose for me was breathtaking. Or, at least it would be breathtaking. Since my infernal steel companion kept me constantly breathless I had none for the gown to take. Still, it was beautiful. Some subtle artistry of the designer had made it seem indecen-tly revealing, while actually concealing everything. A part of that was the fit. The skirts didn’t start to expand until much lower on my hips than usual and above that every curve was caressed with shimmer and shine. Accents of golden thread and decorative jewels ran along the limits of propriety for mourning, but with the Queen’s acceptance no one else would presume to judge otherwise.

In contrast to the theoretically somber gown, the Queen instructed the palace cosmetician to make my face vibrant and cheerful. Which didn’t take much effort. The gown was so pretty and the thought of an evening of attention from Lyonidas was so . . . interesting, that I had plenty of pleasure on which to build. Still, it took a good deal of the afternoon for the servants to prepare me to Queen Selay’s satisfaction. I was more than anxious to go when she finally declared me ready.

Her faithful servant Amy was sent to inform Lyonidas that we were awaiting his pleasure to escort us to dinner. As Regent he was required to attend to the Queen. This left his apparent second in command, Strane, to escort me. Olrin attended Julia and one of the new High Canyon arrivals was escorting Duchess Amity when we met them.

"I don’t believe we’ve been introduced," Queen Selay observed when we came close to Amity’s escort. He was a bit older, perhaps 45 to Amity’s 40, yet still fit, spare with the look of campaign deprivations.

Lyonidas made the introductions, "This is General Reynal. It was he that held High Canyon while my Father was, um, occupied elsewhere."

Reynal’s eyes observed my dress with a combination of appreciation and distaste. He was clearly not too old to enjoy the look of a pretty girl, but the form-revealing fit was a bit too much for a man steeped in traditions of flowing robes. While his eyes were making their insulting inspection of my body, I remembered that Mother wanted the relationships as confused as possible. So when his stare reached my face I let a little smolder into my eyes to tease him.

Teasing this man would likely be a highly hazardous pastime. His eyes sent a message of ownership my way, declaring that I was his for the taking, anytime he felt like it. It was not sensual, it was con-suming. He would use me for his pleasure whether it pleasured me or not. All that passed in the space between heartbeats, in the tiniest twitch of his thin lips and of his glittering dark eyes.

But it still made me angry. I was a Princess! I was not a plaything for him or any other jumped-up High Canyon thug. Instead of cowering before his power, I felt the white-cold mind building within me. All that I let out though, was the heat of apparent passion barely under control. If he wanted me, he’d have to come take me. It might be worth it, but it wouldn’t be easy.

This counter message took only another heartbeat, over by the time Mother had us moving forward again. I tossed my hair dismissively as I turned back to Strane and followed the Queen and Regent to the table.

Most of the escorts were wrong, of course. Queen Selay was un-touchable as the widow of the late King, escorted by Lyonidas the Regent as a courtesy. Lyonidas was actually intended for me in Kragdle’s plan which bumped Strane to the next ranking maiden, Julia. Poor Olrin fell off the end of the train as odd man out. Only Reynal and Amity were a potentially correct pair.

Hugh the Chamberlain knew how this game was played as well as anyone so as we were seated the right pairs were appropriately arranged. Mother and Lyonidas sat together, but I sat beside Lyonidas, with Reynal on mother’s far side. That was probably a good thing since the energy that had flowed between the High Canyon general and me could quickly have gotten out of control.

Strane sat next to me, but Julia was at his other side. Poor Strane, if I had any sympathy for someone from High Canyon, it would be for him. The relaxed power that Lyonidas displayed so casually was almost Achaiean in its openness. Strane was at the other end of the personality spectrum, a typical High Canyonite. He was dark, brooding, no clearer to read when his hood was back than when he was cowled. No more hopeless romance could ever have existed than his pursuit of the flame-haired Julia with her mercurial moods, ready wit, and sharp tongue. Yet he attended her with ponderous duty, excruciatingly polite, totally unresponsive to her not-so-gentle barbs.

"So, My Princess, how did your day go after I left the audience of endless petitions?" Lyonidas interrupted my musings. In his tone was a clear statement of possessiveness of a different sort than Reynal broadcast.

"It was duty, Milord Regent," I sighed. Mother’s ploy to keep him from wanting to come back provided appropriate responses for me.

"What did you do?" I asked in an attempt to change the near-term sub-ject that was as obvious to Lyonidas as Mother’s long-term plan was subtle.

"Julia and I worked with the castle staff to find suitable quarters for the new arrivals," he explained.

"And did you find our secret arsenals of deadly new weapons in your explorations of the castle?" I teased.

He smiled to show he understood the humor, but then countered with a serious statement, "There are no deadly weapons, only deadly men."

"And deadly women," he concluded with a laugh, resuming the light-hearted tone of the conversation.

"Why, Milord Regent, in the short time I’ve known you that is the second time you’ve made reference to deadly females. It seems to be some-thing of an obsession with you." My grin had a challenge in it, though not of physical confrontation.

"If you had ever met my mother, you would understand," he chuckled in return.

"Much like your own mother, actually," he observed lightly, though with enough voice that Mother overheard.

"Not surprising," she replied. "Giselle is my cousin."

"Your cousin?" I exclaimed in unbelief.

"Yes. She was sent as envoy from my homeland, Vidalia, to the court of High Canyon. In time, a message was sent to Vidalia requesting her hand for the crown prince, Kragdle. We had never met the man, but the alliance seemed appropriate. Perhaps it has been. At least Vidalia still lives independent of High Canyon."

"Please, Your Majesty, no recriminations tonight," Lyonidas pleaded.

"I’m sorry," she replied. "You’re right, we must move forward."

"So, what did you see on your tour?" I tried to return the conver-sation to lighter topics.

"More rooms than I have ever seen in one building before," Lyonidas answered. "You could spend your whole life without seeing the sun."

The horror in his expression was overdone for comic impact, but I could see the underlying truth into his heart. It was one we shared.

"I know what you mean. I spend much time at my studies, my music, and my art, but I try never to miss a sunset."

"Did you know," I continued, "that from high enough up you can ac-tually see the darkness flowing across the valley?"

His eyes got a faraway look of nostalgia, "Yes. I know. I have often watched it race along its appointed course. From the mountains of my homeland."

"It must be beautiful," I mused quietly.

All of the sudden his eyes cleared and he looked directly at me, "Once upon a time I would have said it was the greatest beauty that existed in all the world."

I blushed at the intensity of his gaze, flattered at the same time I was embarrassed. Before I had to make a response, though, Julia’s crystal laugh caroled out as one of the strolling minstrels turned an especially witty phrase. Lyonidas looked at her with first automatic annoyance and then a resurrection of the look of appreciation that had recently been mine.

I reached for a roll, letting my unbound gold flow forward. It happened to cut off his view of Julia. He jerked at the interruption in his concentration then grinned with a self-satisfied sort of complacency that was infuriating at the same time it was challenging.

Lyonidas used my silence for an opportunity to talk with the Queen and Reynal for a moment while Strane was still trying to capture Julia’s interest. So for a few minutes I was alone in the crowd, lost in my own musings. As I was about to try and return to the rest of the world, Queen Selay stood.

"Milord Regent, though the sun is only now setting there are other duties that must be attended to before retiring. Princess Cherysse has her studies, as I know she told you, while Julia and I are still dealing with the demands of administration since all our men have been taken from us. If we may be excused?"

"Of course, please allow us to escort you back to your chambers," he replied. It was uncharacteristic of Mother to return to a topic after a request to avoid it, but it was no accident. She wanted Lyonidas to feel the guilt and to recognize the cost to a once-prosperous society. While his tone was light and his actions brisk, I could see the hurt in his eyes at her comment. A part of me wished away that hurt, while another part chided myself for not using my wishes to remove the cause of that hurt.

We were soon back in the private part of the castle. My claim to watch the sunsets was a true one so before I removed the black gown I climbed to the highest balcony of the central keep. I had watched the sunsets from there since before I could clearly remember. The Chamberlain had laughingly told me once that the people of the castle used the last moment when the evening sun lit my golden hair as the official definition of sunset.

So it should have been no surprise when I found Lyonidas already there when I arrived. He could have heard the story anywhere, or even determined for himself that this was the best place from which to watch the declining sun. When I stepped from the doorway he was seated easily on the surrounding ledge, careless of the long drop so close beside.

"So, you do watch the sunsets," he smiled, no real doubt in his voice.

"Yes, when I can."

"It is very beautiful up here," he said softly, though he was not looking over the valley when he said it.

I just nodded, and moved to stand near the protecting ledge myself.

It always surprised me how much the colors changed as the sun went down. Sometimes, the land turned a deep purple, others it just grayed into oblivion. Yet others, it seemed as though all colors appeared in such quick succession that I didn’t dare blink for I’d miss entire ranges of beauty. Those times always seemed magical, as though God were making a special show of artistry just for me.

This night was one of those, though this time the show was not just for me. Lyonidas had moved to stand beside me and watched as silently transfixed as I was myself.

The last golden glimmer finally disappeared over the western pass and we were left with only the twilight afterglow.

Lyonidas reached out to caress my hair from his position beside me.

His soft voice barely disturbed the quiet, "It’s officially sunset."

"So you’ve heard of that silly saying," I said as I turned to look at him.

"You look incredibly beautiful tonight," he said, still so softly I had to hold my breath to hear him. Or maybe I just found myself holding my breath.

"I thought you preferred redheads," I accused, and felt a little pout forming as I remembered his look at Julia.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have called attention to my lips. Or maybe it was exactly the right thing to do. Right then my emotions were so out of control I couldn’t possibly have judged good and bad, right and wrong. All I knew was that his arms were around me, and his lips were crushing the pout out of mine with fierce intensity. His hands were caressing my hair and I surrendered to the sensuality, letting his lips control the kiss, his hands invade my tresses, his body define the curve mine must take. I felt one hand leave my hair and begin a slow, possessive caress down the curve of my waist, down to the swell of my hips revealed by the low flare of the skirts on this so-seductive gown.

"Cherysse," he murmured into my hair, the word itself a caress.

I turned my face back to his and offered my swollen lips in demanding surrender. My body swayed into his hand, begging without words for his touch. My heart was beating far too fast to support my frantic need and that terrible device within my dress wouldn’t allow me the breath I so desperately cherished. My world began to darken with more than the absence of the sun and the last thing I remember is clutching at his broad shoulders for support as I swooned into oblivion.

 

(continued in Part 8)

 

 

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Milady's Wiles © 1998 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.