The Spy Princess (7 page)

ten

I
held my breath—and Peitar stepped out.

“I could have been one of Uncle Darian's people.” Though his voice was soft, it was very serious. “The fathers are discussing settlements with the king, and sent me off. I thought I would test this passage and check on you two. I'm glad I did.”

“But Peitar, Innon is one of us!”

“I don't know that I'm any revolutionary,” Innon said, looking uncomfortable. “But I do know there are problems. A lot of problems, is what my parents say, when we're at home.”

“I wouldn't call myself a revolutionary, either,” Peitar said. “But that's for later.” He turned to me. “Lilah, we'll have to talk about how to recruit people. You need to be more careful.”

“I was,” I protested, trying to keep my voice low. “I can't imagine Uncle Darian in that secret passage, spying on us. I bet he doesn't even know about it!” In answer, Peitar pointed to the door.

Innon lightfooted over and crouched down. He peered under the bottom of the door, then straightened up and shook his head.

Peitar smiled his approval and leaned against the hidden doorway. “Who do you think taught Mother to be so good at detecting passages? He and Mother didn't use them for spying, though—they used them to escape our grandfather. Uncle Darian thinks the palace is safe with his guards everywhere, the servants silent and obedient, and the nobles loyal. Let's not give him reason to be suspicious, all right?” He didn't wait for an answer, but continued. “This used to be Mother's favorite sitting room in summer. It was once the heralds' secret chamber, which is why there's a passage. Entrance is through the old archive room—which has always been an archive room—beside the fireplace, like here. You can see and hear through holes in the carving.” He indicated the panels. “Heard you talking about Derek.”

I groaned. Softly. “Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. Be careful.” Peitar turned to Innon. “Glad you're sympathetic.”

Innon grinned. “If the kingdom is going to get better, I'm all for it, but I think I have some questions.”

“Naturally you do.” Peitar pushed himself upright. “We'll take a walk in the garden after dinner.” He looked over at me. “A few quick things. We are in new rooms this time, a sign of royal favor. Or royal importance. We might not have any private moments after I leave, so I'll tell you now that there's a passage in your room, in the back of the wardrobe—but beware, it goes to the small study in the king's rooms. Innon, you're down at the end of the guest suites?”

“Oh, please, is there a secret passage in
our
rooms?”

“If you're in the suite with the green wall hangings, walnut furnishings, carvings like leaves, yes. Goes to the library.”

Innon was delighted. “Secret passages! There are only two at Tasenja. Easy to figure where they are, if you know how houses are made, but the catches stump me.”

“That's the part I like best.” Peitar smiled. “I'd better take my own advice and be gone. By now they ought to be finishing up the legalities, and I'm supposed to be in my room, changing for dinner.” He stepped back, and the panel whirred softly shut.

“Interesting fellow, your brother,” Innon said.

There was just enough discovery in his tone to make me suspicious. “I suppose the other boys say rotten stuff about him behind his back? He can't help that leg of his.”

Innon said, “Never really heard much about his leg, just that he's got a sharp tongue. Surprised me, because Father said he's a dreamer. Others don't think him worth interest because he's never been at Obrin, or even in the training salle here.” He canted a glance toward me, then said, “Mind if I ask what happened?”

I told him. “And Uncle Darian throws Peitar's crutch in the fire, and makes a lot of noise about how anyone can have the strength of will to overcome a minor annoyance like a broken bone if he just sets his mind to it. I'm sure it's easy for
him
. He's good at everything he does, or so everyone at court says. But of
course
they let him win at horseracing and mock duels and the rest of that footle, or else he'll execute 'em.”

“No, it's true. He really
is
one of the best. You haven't seen. I have.”

“I still don't see why he has to treat my brother that way.”

“Well, if the gossip my grandfather told me is true, when King Darian was our age, the old king used to have him beaten every single time he lost. Grandpa says he even had broken bones once or twice. Of course, they set 'em. But still. He used to do the same thing to King Darian's father—your grandfather—when he was young.”

“Nobody ever told me that.”

Innon made a face. “Grandpa told me these old stories. I can stop now, if you want.”

Though I felt sick inside, I said, “Better tell me everything. All I know is that my grandfather died when my uncle and mother were young, and that something was wrong with him.”

“Nobody ever talked about it in the old days. Everyone was afraid of the old king except the prince, and the two of them argued all the time about gambling and drinking parties, until he was thrown during a horse race. Afterward, he wasn't quite right—he did whatever the king told him to, including having kids so there'd be a new heir. He got worse and worse, and then he died. King Darian became the heir when he was not quite nine—”

“When Mother was seven,” I whispered.

“—and the old king started in on
him
. That's what Grandpa says, and he was at court.” Innon leaned forward. “One of my cousins—he's a lot older—said that when they were boys, after sword practice, they all used the garrison baths. Your uncle—he was the prince then—was all covered with scars.” I shuddered. “If Grandpa had been like that, I would've run away and joined a caravan as a horse-tender, crown or no crown.”

We had a moment's warning—the sound of footsteps beyond the door—and Uncle Darian came in alone.

My heart clattered against my ribs as Innon lifted his nose in the air and bowed.

“Well?” Uncle Darian said.

Innon drawled, “We find one another's company most agreeable.”

“Yes, Uncle,” I managed. My voice squeaked.

“Then we'll make the announcement now, and we'll give you a fine party next month. The entire court will be there, and you'll have plenty of new gowns, Lilah.”

I curtseyed, proud of the way I did
not
show my utter disgust. My uncle looked faintly pleased, faintly relieved, and mostly bored. “Now, come along. You two will accompany me to dinner.”

And so we followed my uncle to the formal dining room—the big one, not the little one where we sometimes went with Father and the king and one or two important adults, or our usual place, the royal schoolroom dining area.

It was a pretty room, the ceiling carved rosewood, with embroidered silk hangings from Colend between the gold-framed portraits. The three crystal chandeliers sparkled with reflections from their lit candles, as did the goblets held high by the grown-ups as they wished us long life and happiness.

At underage betrothals, mushy poetry and speeches weren't considered appropriate, which was a relief. Innon and I, who were seated side by side at the far end of the long table from Uncle Darian, tried to outdo each other in snobbish manners. I don't even know how it started. I was conscientiously lifting my punch glass, curling my pinky, and I caught his eye. Then he did it, too, but his pinky was much more curled—and the game was on.

Father was so pleased he smiled at us. What a disgusting pair Innon and I made! Peitar's eyes narrowed with skeptical humor, but the adults paid no attention, just kept talking and laughing in well-bred voices, as the painted eyes of past kings and queens looked down on us. Most of them had sat in this same room going through the same sort of ritual.

After a very fine cake made up of alternating layers of pastry and custard, my uncle said that an impromptu dance had been arranged. This meant that nobody had to change into formal clothes. As it wasn't the actual betrothal, Innon and I didn't have to go; the fathers and my uncle did the honors for us.

Peitar was six months shy of his official coming of age, so he didn't have to go either. He waited until all the adults had filed out in order of rank to join us out on the terrace overlooking the moonlit lake.

The wind had stopped, and the air was balmy. “We'll have to dance next month, you know,” I said morosely to Innon. “Maybe we can make a game of it, like we just did in there.”

“The food will be even better than tonight. They'll make a point of having all our favorites,” he answered.

We heard Peitar's uneven steps as he caught up, but Innon didn't turn to stare, for which I was grateful. “Now we can talk,” Peitar whispered, as he leaned against the stone railing. “But keep your voices low.”

I looked around, for the first time really aware of the guards patrolling the top walls at various levels, picked out against the sky by torchlight, the occasional glint on drawn weapons. We'd be easily identifiable, but what was more natural than the two Selenna toffs blabbing with the Tasenja heir who was to ally with their family?

“This castle must look splendid from the water,” I said.

“It does.” Peitar's smile could be heard in his voice. “It's also an effective reminder of who truly holds power.”

“My father doesn't,” Innon observed. “Not outside Tasenja.”

“Your father is one of the most popular courtiers in the kingdom,” Peitar said, to our surprise. “If he backs the king's new policies, they'll have even more support.”

“Your father didn't look like he approved much of me,” I said.

Innon snickered. “That's just his court face. Truth is, there isn't much he disapproves of, except maybe bad stewardship at home. And maybe the latest taxes.”

“Your father's life,” Peitar observed, “has been a long, pleasant series of mild gratifications, removing the need to see farther, to exert. Our father's, on the other hand, has been a long series of thwarted ambitions, though to the outside eye it would seem they enjoy much the same sorts of advantages. It's a difference in character.”

I sighed. When Peitar talked like that, I had trouble understanding him, and I was afraid if I asked him to explain, he'd start in about politics. “Why don't you tell him what he needs to know?” I suggested. “I think I'll go in. It's been a long day.”

Peitar inclined his head. Innon made me a flourishing court bow. I curtseyed as if to a king and heard his laughter as I retreated inside the dining room. Servants were clearing the vast table, and they paused to bow. I waved awkwardly, wondering for the first time if some of those impassive faces hid revolutionaries.

Our chambers were royal, all right. My room was enormous, lit by many glowglobes. The walls were decorated in elaborate plasterwork—climbing golden-leafed vines and tiny roses of every shade of pink, with buds made from coral. The curtains and upholstery were embroidered with gold leaves and pink roses.

I looked more closely at the flowers on the walls. Whose hands had set them there, and when? What unknown artist had painted each one so carefully that the plaster petals showed gradations of color? What princess had looked at them in the past, and what had been her feelings?

My thoughts were broken when an almost invisible door opened beside the wardrobe. Out stepped Deon, all clean and neat and dressed in servant gray! She grinned at my surprise. “Hi, Lilah.”

I gaped. “Who told you?” Because there was no chance she would have been so friendly if she hadn't known about my Larei disguise.

“Bren. And Lizana put me in charge of hiding your secret things, and here they are.” She pulled out the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. There were my underclothes, neatly folded, dried rose petals scattered among them. She lifted everything up to reveal my Larei disguise and the fashion book. I exhaled in relief. “I'm supposed to ask if you want anything before I go down to the guest suite and wait on those snobs.”

“Well, the father might be a snob, but the boy—Innon—is on our side.”

Deon put her hands on her hips. “Really?” I nodded. “I'll be sure to tell Lizana. And Bren . . . and Derek,” she ended, in a testing sort of voice.

“Good,” I said. “As for what I want . . . just for something to happen! Something besides the boredom here, I mean.”

“Derek says soon. What a prime place for some
real
slam justice!” I'd heard that phrase from Bren, too. Before I could ask what it meant, Deon gave me a challenging look. “Do you want me to brush out your hair or something?”

“No, I do all that myself. I don't want a lady's maid.”

“And everyone talks about how you don't yet have one, as if that's a bad thing. Hoo, do they gossip! You'll have to have one when you turn sixteen, Lizana said.”

“All the more reason for a revolution,” I retorted with careless cheer. “I don't want somebody lurking around whose entire job is to make me fashionable and tattle when I go barefoot.”

“Who'd actually
want
to be a maid?” Deon looked around in disgust. “
I'm
doing it for Derek. Though I have to admit, it's nice to have baths each morning—as long as we're out before sunrise, so you nobles can use them the rest of the day.” She was still challenging me. I shrugged—it wasn't as if
I
could change things. She scowled at the rose-colored carpet. “And it's good to get plenty of food, but it's turned everyone here into tamed pets.”

“You mean the servants? They don't want a revolution?”

“None that I've met. Oh, they all complain about the nobles—you ought to hear them!” She hooted. “But
change
? Not a chance! They like living in a palace right fine. As for a fight for freedom, they act like it's a horrible idea.”