MeiLin Miranda's Blog, page 44

Chapter 15 Part 5 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

"A bird?" said Edmerka to her maidservant the next morning. "He sent me a bird?" She peered into the cage in the maid's hands.

"A nightingale, Your Majesty," beamed the maid. She hung the cage near a window. "They sing, oh, it's so beautiful! It'll break your heart, it will. They say they sing for their lost loves."

"We have nightingales in Leute," Edmerka snapped. She stomped out of her bower, down the stairs to the upper hall where the King met with his counselors, and demanded entrance.

Inside, Warin and several Tremontine lords bent low over a map. "Should civil war come to Leute," the King was saying, "we must be on guard against attempts to take these castles along our borders--" He straightened as Edmerka burst through the door, a protesting servant at her heels. Her eyes were bright with anger; he might have expected this.

"Explain yourself, sir!" she said, stuttering on the words.

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The blurb doctor is in

One of the worst parts of book-writing is coming up with the stupid blurb--that bit of copy that makes people want to buy your book. Everyone hates it. *I* hate it, and I don't think my blurbs are that great.

BUT I LOVE WRITING BLURBS FOR OTHER PEOPLE. Weird, huh? I discovered this over time at Kindleboards, and I've discovered I'm pretty good at it.

So now I'm offering my services. You give me your blurb, I'll make it better. $25. Drop me an email: meilin a t meilinmiranda. c o m.

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Chapter 15 Part 4 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

From that day, Edmerka rejoined the daily life of the Keep. She walked more often in the garden, ate in the Great Hall, and dressed in colors, if drab ones, but she rebuffed every attempt Warin made to engage her in conversation. "I am not inclined to speak privately with you, Your Majesty," was all she would say, until finally Hendas of Holset came to her in frustration.

"Lady, I am here to tell you that you will either marry King Warin, or you will marry the Leutan lord of your choosing," he said, settling his thick frame into an equally thick chair in her bower.

"And if I choose none?" she said.

"Then you bring civil war to your kingdom, or worse. The lords ruling in your name will only do it for so long before their ambition overtakes them. And if you reject him, the King may decide to take Leute by force in his anger. Either way, you will destroy your people. Thousands will die, either by the sword or from the starvation and sickness that always follow war."

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Chapter 15 Part 3 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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The next day, Warin waited at a hidden intersection in the garden among the late season flowers; Edmerka had taken to walking there alone, and when she passed, he fell in step beside her. She stiffened, but did not run. "How long do you intend to stay in mourning, sister queen?" he said.

"Until I am done, brother king," she answered. "It is tradition."

"Did you love your husband so very much?"

Her startling blue eyes pinned him through the veil. "I despised him even as I loved my father."

"Your father was a lighthearted man. I am sure he would have you put aside mourning. I myself look forward to seeing you in colors again."

"Do you," she said. She pulled a little curved knife from the tasseled belt at her hips, and began to cut the asters, white and violet, that spilled onto the graveled pathway.

Warin struggled for words. He couldn't see her face through the veil, though he recognized the way she stood, the slight tremble of frustration and temper that used to run through her at the cottage. "Emmae--"

"Don't call me that!"

"Very well, then, Your Majesty." He watched her hack at the flowers. "I...I am sorry."

"Indeed? For what?" she said, seemingly intent on her task.

"For not telling you who I am, or what had happened to you."

"You should be," she said, pointing the knife at him. "You should be very sorry!" She returned to butchering the flowers. The little knife was none too sharp, and crushed more than cut the stems; the air filled with their astringent, green and somewhat bitter smell.

Her trembling increased, though whether from fury or misery he couldn't tell; it wrung his heart, and broke his pride. "And how might I express that sorrow to you?" he said. "I will do anything you want, anything to earn your forgiveness and love. What must I do?"

"I don't know if there is anything you can do," she choked. She dropped the flowers and ran back to the Keep's courtyard, her long mourning veil tangling so badly in the rose bushes that she left it behind.

After a moment, Warin bent down and picked up the discarded flowers. He tried to untangle the veil, but in the end, he ripped it from the thorns and trod it underfoot as he stomped back to the Keep, through the courtyard to the tower stairs leading to the upper hall, and finally to pace and brood in his own quarters.

"Let her come to you again in her own time, Your Majesty," came a voice at his elbow.

"I don't think she will, Teacher," said Warin heavily.

"She is wounded, and you have let the wound fester. Show her your love, but be steadfast and patient."

Warin fingered the flowers in his hand. "I waited for her to heal from a wound I gave her once. I can do it again, but I wonder if she will heal a second time."

"It is the same wound, sire," murmured Teacher.

That night as she sat down to eat in her bower, the Dowager Queen found the flowers she had dropped, in a little nosegay tied up in simple ribbons and placed atop her tray. A note beside it read:

These are the ribbons I bought with our furs. They belong to you.

At first, the maidservant thought Edmerka would throw the flowers across the room. Instead, the Queen took one long breath in, let it out, and gave the nosegay to the maid to put in water. When the flowers died, Edmerka slipped the ribbons unseen into the silk purse she wore at her waist.

Warin let a day go by before he sent another gift: a tiny, delicate wooden rabbit, the twin of the one carved into her broomhandle, and clearly from the King's own hands. It, too, went into the purse with the ribbons. She gave no thanks, and when the King inquired of her women whether Edmerka had accepted the gifts, they told him truthfully they had no idea what she'd done with them.

Undaunted, Warin sent a gift every day. He sent her a rabbit fur pillow, stuffed with lavender from the bushes outside their old cottage, and her unfinished embroidery fetched on the same trip back through the silver tray. He sent her a length of silk for a new dress, the same color as the flowers she favored in the garden, with a note: "Asters are for patience." Many small gifts he sent, none returned, until finally he sent her the ring he'd bought with their furs in the village: a simple, golden band.

That night, the Dowager Queen joined the company at dinner for the first time. She sat at the King's left hand, as was proper, but said only, "Tolerably well, Your Majesty, thank you," when asked how she did. There was some small progress: she had exchanged black for gray and set aside her veil, though she kept her hair covered in a widow's coif. Her right-hand ring finger remained bare, where his promise to her should have shone in gold.

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Chapter 15 Part 2 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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In the aftermath of his ascension, Warin weeded out the faithful from the traitorous. To everyone's shock, he spared the Duke of Valleysmouth and his family, who had raised Hildin and Gian, and gave Old Meg an honorable entry to the Hill, but he tracked down the family of the archer who'd killed Fredrik of Leute and slew all its men. Even so, the hooks above Marketgate went largely empty; few had stood with the Usurper.

The rest of the Travelers caught up with their Queen, making camp at the edge of the King's Woods; their caravans flickered bright among the cool green leaves of late spring. "Will you not let me entertain you at the Keep?" said Warin.

"No Traveler may spend the night beneath a solid roof, Your Majesty," said the Traveler Queen, "but thank you."

"Well then, take the freedom of these Woods as a reward for your service, now and always."

"Thank you, cousin," said Connin with a bow, his leg extended just into mockery.

"In return," said the Traveler Queen, "and to protect ourselves, I will set an enchantment on the far side of the Woods. Anyone may leave them, but only your direct descendents, and my own people, may enter from that side. With your consent, of course." Warin gave it, the usefulness of such a thing undeniable; with such an enchantment, the Keep became unassailable, bounded by the Feather and Shadow Rivers, by the steep cliff overlooking the City, and now by the impenetrable Woods.

Warin kept his distance from the grieving Edmerka, Dowager Queen of Tremont and Princess Royal of Leute. There were those in his court who whispered that perhaps Edmerka's tears and black dress were tears of regret for killing her husband, not tears of grief for her father; they also whispered that perhaps the black veils hid a belly swelling with the Usurper's child. The new King made it clear there was to be no such talk, but after a spoke of rumors, Edmerka herself bowed to the advice of the Eldest Sister and submitted to an examination; the Sister's Temple subsequently announced that the Usurper had left no offspring. The whispers ended.

For her part, Edmerka's first act was to take the marriage cord that had bound her to Hildin and burn it. She kept to her bower and refused to dine in company, and would admit no man for some weeks. She finally bent enough to allow her own nobles to visit her, though she pulled a mourning veil over her face. She surreptitiously watched through her window for sightings of Warin on the grounds, or in the courtyard--her spacious rooms had views of both--but let no one know that she yearned for him, her pride at odds with her heart.

An uneasy triad of nobles, all sworn to relinquish the reins of the kingdom to Edmerka's eventual husband, returned to Leute to rule it in her absence; Hendas of Holset remained behind as Her Majesty's advisor. "I don't see why I mightn't rule by myself," Edmerka said to Holset one day in late summer. They sat in the breeze of an uncovered window on the garden side of her receiving room, and he noted the restless eyes watching for any movement among the flowers and hedges.

"Lady, the nobility will stand with tradition," answered Holset. "Two spokes have passed. Fall's Beginning approaches, and Leute remains without a king. You must remarry soon and give us one."

"I wish never to marry again," she answered, savagely stabbing her embroidery in its tambour frame.

"You will not even consider the hand of King Warin?"

She pushed away the tambour. "Warin is a false man. And he has no partiality for me now." She drew the ends of her braids through her fingers under her long black veil.

Holset smiled; so Warin still might hope. "No, madame, Warin is true to you, in spite of your over-proud conduct. Yes, I say it, and you may storm and rage all you like: you are well-matched, the two of you. Your lords will give you until Fall's Beginning to make up your mind. After that, I cannot guarantee their patience."

So he repeated to Warin that night. "She loves you still, Your Majesty, I would stake my life on it. All that is needed is some wooing. Yield to your own inclination, sire. You cannot tell me you do not love her."

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Happy Farr's Day!

It's Autumn Equinox, which means it's Farr's Day in Tremont! WHAT DO THAT MEAN?

A typical Farr's Day

Imagine red banners emblazoned with silver crossed knives flying from every home or hung in windows--huge streamers from the roofs of ducal townhouses, tiny homemade pocket kerchief-sized flags in the cracked windows of the poor. On every door that can afford one hangs a shield; if the family has a noble crest, it is newly painted on it. Otherwise guildsmen put the symbol of their craft, merchants the symbol of their goods. The poor have nothing, as usual.

In the Guards barracks, every scrap of metal has been polished to a mirror finish and all weapons sharpened to hair-splitting thinness; even though weapons are always kept so, now they are more so. Regimental banners are inspected for the slightest signs of wear; regimental shields are repainted. The sound of drums reverberates through the streets of the Capital, even though the drummers are out at the Assembly Grounds.

At the Grounds, grandstands have been erected. There the City's luminaries sit in the best seats, with the paying gentry and merchantmen above them. The worst seats can be had for a few coppers, but the truly poor gather on the edges of the Grounds and do their best to see. Some sit on the walls, but this is dangerous for reasons that shall become clear.

When it's time for the God to appear, a hush falls over the crowd. A large group of condemned prisoners, male and female but mostly male, is herded onto the Grounds. There must be at least five hundred of them, probably closer to a thousand--I'm not good at estimating crowd sizes. In times past, there were more prisoners of war and other captives, and any princes, kings or rebel leaders caught during the year are still saved for this day. Dotting this year's prisoners are a few brown faces of Inchari rebels, for instance. At the appearance of the condemned, the crowd begins to cheer in excitement.

The Embodiment of Farr walks onto the Grounds and the crowd falls silent again before taking up the chant of His name. If one had the sight, one would see a red glow envelop Him. He is dressed in ceremonial armor of blinding silver with red enamel chasings, a helm on His head that looks as if a hawk has spread her wings to each side. He carries a sword in each hand, with no sheaths.

The miserable group of prisoners cringes away and the crowd jeers. The poor sitting on the walls push the more terrified back toward the center as Farr begins to spin His swords; the braver ones stand ready to fight, knowing it's hopeless but choosing to die with honor. Rarely Farr will pardon a condemned man if he faces death particularly bravely.

Farr slaughters them all, moving through the throng with an almost leisurely step. Some try to climb the walls and escape--look, one of them has grabbed the leg of an unwary workman. The workman tries to shake him off, but instead he is pulled into the ring himself where he dies with the rest.

By the time the last prisoner is dead, Farr is covered in blood and roaring for more. One year long ago, He jumped the fence and killed an entire slum-ful of innocent people. Farr's Embodiment came to and found himself in a pile of bodies fucking a corpse. He killed himself not long after.

This time there is no horrible accident. Farr takes His place on a dais as the bodies are cleared away to be burned--no entrance to Harla's Hill for the condemned. Weapons makers bring Him their latest creations. Targets are set up, and the Brothers show their skill to their God. Horse archers demonstrate feats of marksmanship at full gallop, and javelins are thrown. Once these targets were human. The conservative factions call every year for them to be human once again, but 9th century reforms so far are holding. It is not humane to tie a man to a stake to be shot at; better he should at least be given the chance to face the Warrior.

At the end of the festivities at the Grounds, Farr moves among the assembled Guards and Brothers, stopping to bless one every now and again. Often he will pick a young man from the ranks and take him as lover for the night, a great honor though once in a while Farr accidentally kills him--a small price to pay, for if he lives he is lucky in battle. Sometimes He'll take several.

When the Warrior retires to His Temple for feasting, the rest of the City goes on a binge. Kegs of beer, casks of wine and cider are rolled into the streets. Everyone--the male half of "everyone," anyway--eats and drinks and sings the old war songs until they fall over and their women trundle them home.

In the Temple, Farr and his men do the same until He becomes roaring drunk--"drunk as Farr" as the saying goes--but He never passes out. He sits among His men, drinking and singing, still covered in the blood of the condemned which never dries on Him. When He's had His fill He retires to his chamber with his lover( s ) for the night.

In the morning, the Embodiment is usually not hung over, but he doesn't drink anything stronger than coffee the rest of the spoke.

Posted on 09/21/2011 - 6:04pm

Chapter 15 Part 1 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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The letter was folded and sealed, and pressed into Fen's hands early the next day at the train station. "Give this to my groom, Alvo Nollson--only him, d'you understand? You can trust him. He will help you," said Temmin. "He's my best friend."

"Must be some groom if he's your best friend, sir," said Fen.

"Friend and groom, the best of both. Crokker should be expecting you. He's fierce, but don't let him frighten you."

"Never worry, sir, we worked for Mr Affton," said Arta; she smiled, though her pale face and trembling hands betrayed her.

For appearance's sake, Temmin kissed Arta on the forehead and Fen on one cheek. Though the kisses were innocent, he'd grown increasingly fond of both of them, he thought absently as they waved from their compartment window through the steam of the train's departure. He was responsible for them now, the first time he'd felt responsible for someone else's well-being, and it frightened him somewhat.

Perhaps it was another small taste of kingship, something like the rush of power that came over him when crowds shouted his name, waving and calling as they were now, as his carriage rolled through the streets towards the Keep, though there was a surly undertone this time he didn't like. He waved back, but wondered all the way home. Would that he could turn people to his cause the way Warin could, but what cause was that? What did he stand for, now that the Temple had been taken from him?

Teacher waited in Temmin's rooms, looking out over the lawn. "Are they on the train?"

"Yes," answered Temmin, "and it was a strange thing. Well, no, they weren't strange, neither was the train. The people round the station were. They don't seem to like me very well right now."

"You disappointed them," said Teacher.

"Disappointed? What right do they have to be disappointed in me?" said Temmin, flinging himself onto the couch. He changed his mind as soon as he hit the cushions; he still hadn't unkinked himself from the night he'd spent on it, and he rose and resettled himself into the wooden chair by the library table. "Why d'you always have to stand with your back to the sun? I can't ever see you properly, you're just this thin black stick," he said, shading his eyes.

Teacher didn't move, remaining a dark shadow haloed in the sunlight. "The common people have every right to expect greatness from their rulers, though they are usually disappointed. They very much wanted you to go to the Temple and fulfill the prophecy. Now they think you have taken a mistress, and a young man as well. They are disappointed in you."

Temmin slumped in his chair, ashamed. "I'm just like the rest of the nobility, or will be. They'll have to get used to it."

"Are you like the rest? You do not seem so to me, at least, not yet."

"It's what I am," he mumbled. "I should get it over with now, just go with Fennows to his stupid brothel and get it over with. Then I can go see Allis and Issak and do whatever it is I can do there, and then go home and be a good princeling and turn into my father."

"Is that what you want?"

"No, it fucking well isn't what I want!" Temmin said, banging his fist on the table top.

"I will excuse your improper outburst, this time," said Teacher, unperturbed. "What, then, do you want?"

"I want to go home. I want my best friend back. I want Jenks! I want Allis and Issak, and in the right way, not some state visit. I want to hit someone! And I want Fennows to go fu--to go back to Corland!"

"You cannot go home. Alvo in time will be allowed to come to you. Jenks returns in a few days. Allis and Issak would welcome you as a Supplicant, especially now that they have dealt with Lord Litta. You may arrange with Brother Mardus to hit someone, but someone will undoubtedly hit you back. And Fennows returns to Corland on tomorrow's train."

"What? Wait, slow down," said Temmin in astonishment: a great deal of news to absorb at once. "Fennows is leaving?"

"He told His Majesty that pressing business takes him to Corland."

"Merciful Amma, there's a sweet bit of news!" he said. "As to the rest, I don't care if someone hits me back, a few days are too many, and what about Litta?"

"Do you not read the papers?"

"I hate newspapers," said Temmin.

Teacher pulled a slim tabloid from an inner pocket of the black robe, and tossed it on the table. The Afternoon Spectator, said the ornate nameplate at the top of the front page. Beneath it, a headline in large type, stretching over two columns: A Terrible Trade--Lovers' Embodiments Call for Ministerial Action--Dreadful Suffering of Children.

Temmin clutched at the newsprint, wrinkling it almost beyond legibility. "Oh, gods, Litta did it. Why did he do it? I did what he said!"

"Read it."

"I already know what it says!" But Temmin did as he was told, scanning the columns. "They told a newspaper--they told everyone! Why would they do that?"

"To remove the only weapon anyone had against them. It went quite well, actually. Almost every newspaper in the kingdom is calling for a crackdown on certain brothels. Litta and your father are powerless against the Obbys now. In fact, they are stronger than ever."

Temmin sat back in his chair and squinted. "I thought you weren't supposed to advise me on this."

"I am not. I am merely stating where affairs stand." A pause; Teacher moved away from the light to sit on the edge of the table, and resolved from a black figure to a pale one again. "Is your brain a-whirl, or may we return to study?"

The story. Just today, he'd wished he were more like Warin, that he had Warin's charisma and decisiveness. "Yes," he said slowly, "I think I'd like to study. Ugh, the book's sticky!" He rubbed at the old red leather with a handkerchief. "I don't know, though. Warin and Emmae were so angry with one another. I almost don't want to know how bad their marriage was."

Temmin opened the book, and fell in.

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Please don't defend me in public.

I blame myself for this one.

I have literally been waiting for a year for a written bad review for "Lovers and Beloveds." Yesterday it finally touched down. It was polite, to the point, impersonal, and largely based on a dislike of my writing style. I thanked the reviewer for taking the time to both finish a book she didn't like and also to write out the review; there's nothing worse than someone giving your book two stars and not telling you why.

Stupidly I linked to it on Twitter and let the review comment feed onto my FB page. I noted that I wasn't upset--because honestly, I'm not. Really. When you get a bad review there's always that initial rush of dizzying fight-or-flight adrenaline, but it fades quickly. I'm fine. I wasn't pointing to it because it was a bad review, I was pointing to it because it was the FIRST bad review, the one I've said repeatedly was lurking out there like the Nemesis asteroid or Bruce the Shark, and here it finally was!

But.

People apparently took it upon themselves to defend me, which was unnecessary. She didn't attack me. I don't know what they said because the OP deleted them (and will keep deleting them with 100% of my support). I have apologized to the OP, deleted both pointers, and am horrifically embarrassed. Lesson learned.

I will reiterate this again (and again): PLEASE don't defend me either here or elsewhere. I can deal with it. It embarrasses me when you go off on people, especially people who didn't attack me personally in what they've said about my work. I love you for caring that much, but seriously, it does me more harm than good. I keep forgetting that I have a fan base that will do that in places other than here.

If you have to say something about a negative review or comment, just send it to me personally. Don't post it. Please. Just--don't.

That said, this one was my fault.

Posted on 09/16/2011 - 7:27pm

Chapter 14 Part 7 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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When the room finally contained no one but himself, Temmin slumped onto the stool at his writing desk and pulled out a sheet of paper; he would write a letter to Alvo for Fen to deliver. He dipped his pen.

36th SpB, 990 KY, at Tremont Keep

Dear Mr Nollson,

I have the pleasure of introducing to you--

He started again.

Nollson--

Please make these two friends of mine welcome.

No.

My Dear Alvo,

I am sorry I have not written before now. I did not know what to say. I do not like that between us, who have been so close, but you shocked me greatly. I am still unsure what to say or even think about it. I wish you had told me your feelings a long time ago. We might have discussed it before I left instead of leaving it as we did. It makes me unhappy to think of you as unhappy, because I do love you, Alvy, you know that, yes? I just do not know about the other.

There will be a less honest letter from Winmer to Crokker as well sent by special messenger, but I wanted to write to you specially about these two friends I have sent home. You will hear all kinds of nonsense about how they are my lovers. They are not, but you cannot let anyone know--no one, Alvy, not even your mother, no one. Do not say anything. Let people think what they will. My friends are in danger here, and I have to send them somewhere safe. Please treat them kindly for my sake. I don't think they are likely to see kindness otherwise, but try to encourage it among the staff anyway. They are blameless. Teach them to ride if they do not know already, especially Fen. I do not think he knows much about horses, even though he says his father is a blacksmith. If I am to take him into my own service, and it appears I will have to, he will need to know how to ride. You will like him, even if he does have red hair.

You may have heard that I stood to become a Supplicant. That is all off.

One more thing I must tell you, and it is about that girl, Mattie. She is my half-sister. My father had a dalliance with a maidservant when Mama was confined with me. He did not know about her, though Jenks suspected. Do not tell anyone that, either, but I thought you should know. I feel terrible about what happened that night, and not just because she is my sister, though that is bad enough. Speaking of Jenks, if you see him at the Estate, or if you get in to Reggiston and see him there, tell him to come home immediately. I need him.

I do not like the Keep. I have only been here a short while, but it feels like forever. I thought when I turned eighteen that I would be grown at the turn of the clock. I would know what to do and how to do it. I would be a man. But I am more confused than ever, even though I have learned a great deal. I must grow up very quickly indeed, and I am not sure how to go about it.

They have given me Percet Lord Fennows as a companion. He was Percy Sandopint before his grandfather died. Do you remember him? He visited us briefly. He is even worse now. I wish you were here, and so does Jebby.

Your true friend,

Whithorse Temmin

What a noodlehead, signing Whithorse, but then, he didn't sign his given name with anyone outside the family, and he'd never written Alvo a letter before. And he was tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. He left the letter on his desk, shambled into the bedchamber, took off his clothes, and crawled into the still-unmade bed, not bothering with a nightshirt. The sheets smelled of Arta and Fen: disconcerting, but he was too tired to care. He fell asleep.

A knock came at the study's door, then again, more insistent. "Halloo?" called a voice. "I've been knocking and knocking, and no one's answered!" The door opened, and Lord Fennows let himself in. "I know you're in here, Temmy, and I want to hear about last night! The two of 'em! That's the spirit! Don't fancy the boys meself, but to each his own, I should think!"

Fennows walked to the open bedchamber door and peered in. Sound asleep. Not surprising after the night before, he thought. Was that perfume he detected? Not an inexpensive one, either. He bounced on his toes for a moment, wondering whether to wake Temmin up, finally deciding to let him be; after all, Fennows himself had had many a long night cavorting among the ladies. The poor thing probably had a hangover to boot.

He slipped away from the door and ambled around the study at his ease, fingering Temmin's belongings: a globe; a music box with a Farr's Day inscription from Ellika--he made a note, she liked music boxes--books. Books, whatever for. He was sure Temmin wasn't much of a reader; that was his old man's line, and that horrid oldest sister of his. Must be the loathsome tutor, the one called Teacher, though some called him the Black Man. Servants and their superstitions. He ran his fingers over an old, red leather-bound book and flipped through its pages. Blank. "What a stupid thing to have in one's library," he said.

Fennows spotted the desk, and the paper atop it. He listened; Temmin had begun to snore, loudly. Safe to see what the Heir was writing. Fennows crept up to the desk.

What an interesting letter. Who was Alvo Nollson? He consulted his memory, since apparently he'd met the man--hang on, Nollson was Temmin's groom! Strange letter to send to an undoubted illiterate. Who would teach a groom to read? "A dangerous innovation, I should think," Fennows murmured to himself. He took a small notebook from his breast pocket, and wrote down the salient points. He neglected to write down the passage about himself, preferring to add it instead to the long list of injuries he would one day repay.

When Temmin woke up, Fennows was gone, no sign of his presence left behind.

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Chapter 14 Part 6 | Lovers and Beloveds | IHGK Book 1

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"How can I serve you, Your Highness?" said Teacher, surveying the crying couple on the floor.

"You can do things for me, yes?" said Temmin. "You're not forbidden to help me?"

"I may do whatever is in my power for you, save in that one matter."

Temmin laid out the situation, with interruptions from both Arta and Fen until he ordered them to be quiet. "I want to send them to Whithorse. Take them through the mirror."

"No," said Teacher.

"No? What d'you mean, no? You said you'd help!"

"Taking them through the mirror will not help. The King will suspect something if they suddenly disappear, and then I will just have to bring them back. You must send them in plain sight. Let everyone believe what they already believe, and that you are sending your new lovers to take up residence near your home."

"But how can I send Fen with her?"

"Sir," said Teacher, "let them believe what they already believe."

"Oh. Oh!" said Temmin.

"Give them new clothes, gifts. Put them day after tomorrow on the train to Whithorse, first class. In fact, have Winmer make the arrangements. No one will question it, not even your father."

"Does anyone aim to ask us whether we want to go to Whithorse, with everyone thinkin we're--we're--" Fen grimaced, coloring.

"Better no honor than no head," whispered Arta, leaning into him.

"What's to prevent 'em from killin us later?" said Fen.

"The King is not vengeful," said Teacher. "By the time he discovers the full story, the matter of His Highness's Supplicancy will be resolved. Hurting you would mean nothing." Temmin walked Teacher to the door, leaving Arta and Fen holding each other on the hearth rug. "I must say, Your Highness, you have impressed me this evening. Well done."

"You're sure my father won't hurt them once he finds out Arta's not my mistress?"

"Once you have either lost your innocence or become a Supplicant, it will not matter."

"I'd better find a real mistress, then."

Teacher put a long-fingered hand on his shoulder. "Time will tell, sir, who is your Mistress. Or Master."

Fen and Arta slept in Temmin's bed that night, while Temmin turned fitfully on the green velvet sofa. In the morning, Harbis blandly served breakfast for three on the little table, pulled up before the morning's fire. If he noted Temmin's haggard face, he said nothing. No one spoke as they picked at their food, and not even Temmin could empty the toast rack.

He could take care of Fen's things, but he knew nothing about outfitting or buying gifts for girls. Oh, certainly, for his mother and sisters, but--perhaps one of his sisters might help? The three of them scorned tattling on one another as children, but this was more important than who put salt in his tutor's sugar bowl.

In the end, he chose Ellika. She already took an interest in Fen and Arta, and she'd know exactly what sorts of things to pick out. Still in his dressing gown, he sent Fen into the wardrobe with Harbis to find whatever might fit him, and called for Winmer.

Temmin managed bare civility to the little man, and his resulting rather haughty demeanor added credence to his orders: that Affton should ready temporary rooms for Arta and Fen in the guest quarters nearest his own; that Harbis, with Winmer's assistance, should arrange gentleman's clothing and accoutrements appropriate for Fen; and that two first-class tickets be obtained for the Neyaday train to Whithorse. Winmer gave Temmin a satisfied bow, and went so far as to kiss the cringing Arta's hand. "Oh, how I hate him!" she said as soon as he was gone.

The outraged but professionally resigned Affton arrived next to escort his former employees to their suite; Harbis followed, arms full of princely attire he deemed low enough for a former footman. Temmin, dressed by now, sent for Ellika, who bustled into his study in a disapproving burst of rose and gold silk. "If what Iddie's telling me is true, you are a horrid young man, and I am loathe to speak to you," she sniffed, dropping gracefully onto the sofa.

"If she's telling you I've taken Arta Dannikson as my mistress, she's mistaken--no, not her sweetheart, either--but listen, Elly. You can't tell anyone, not Sedra, not Mama--not anyone, d'you hear? You must let them believe I've taken them both."

"But Temmin, whatever for? Everyone thinks you've dropped your plans for Supplicancy!"

Temmin's heart sank; he'd been so worried for Arta and Fen that he'd let the Temple slip to the back of his mind. "I have, but not because of this," he said. "Later, I'll tell you later. For now, just know that if you tell a soul, you'll get them both in serious trouble, the killing kind. You can't even tell Iddie how things really stand." He put the matter before her.

"But of course I'll help!" cried Ellika, jumping to her feet. "I'll send Iddie with a tape measure this instant, and set Naister on a full wardrobe for Arta right away. She'll put aside her other work, I'm sure, she always does when I ask, and why shouldn't she. We'll have to send the things to Arta by messenger later, but I'm sure I have a few old things that'll fit her for now, or that we can alter quickly. Our coloring's so different--well, Iddie and I will figure it out. Oh! Your secret's safe. I love intrigues! And that Winmer--I always thought he was too smug by half." She paused at the door. "Poor Arta. Poor Fen--somehow it's always worse for the boys. Well, we'll get them safely off, Temmy, never worry. And you will tell me why you decided against Supplicancy, soon. In the meantime, I shall play outraged and put-upon sister! Hooray!"

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