He raises his eyebrows, waiting.
‘Might I bring Lucien to dine with us this evening?’
A look of disgust flashes across Aron’s face. ‘Is that it? I thought you were going to ask me something exciting.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like, would I kill Patrus for you? That would be a definite yes, by the way. I may not be able to fly, but my sword arm is strong. Easily strong enough to slice through his flaccid flesh.’
‘Well … I’ll bear that in mind. But what about Lucien? I know you don’t like him –’
‘Wrong, cousin. I loathe him.’
There’s so much resentment in his voice I am temporarily silenced.
Aron rolls his eyes. ‘I suppose you may bring him. If you must.’
‘Thank you. He seems so sad at the moment. I think his mother is unwell, and –’
‘Spare me the pathetic details. I’ve said yes, haven’t I?’
I execute a deep curtsy, which makes him smile. ‘Until this evening then, Your Highness.’ I return to the main door, but as I leave the sanctuary I glance back; Aron is staring up at the ceiling again.
Lucien has been tidying up while I’ve been gone; the books and papers are still there, but they’ve been heaped up in one corner of the room.
‘Good news, my lord: you’re now officially invited to supper.’ He doesn’t look very pleased. ‘You may escort me to the prince’s apartments at the twelfth hour.’
He bows his head. ‘Of course, Your Grace. My only desire is to serve.’
I bite back the sarcastic comment that rises to my lips. Still, during the intervening hours, I can’t help worrying that forcing Lucien and my cousin together might just end in disaster. Letya and I spend the afternoon together, but eventually she gets fed up with my pacing and tells me I should do something useful. Remembering my promise to Lucien, I turn to the piles of correspondence sitting on my desk. Answering letters, or making notes on those that require further consideration, forces me to concentrate. The twelfth hour comes more quickly than I expected.
Our meal doesn’t start well. Aron is at his caustic worst and Lucien takes refuge in being wooden and monosyllabic. The burden of making civil conversation falls on Odette and me, and initially we struggle. Having discussed the weather, the king’s illness and the reports of a possible war between Frianland and Celonia, two of our nearest neighbours, silence threatens. Desperate, I’m about to launch into the latest news I’ve received from Lord Lancelin – the development of a new steel pen nib by an ironmaster in Atratys – when Odette turns to Lucien.
‘Do you remember that time when you and Aron stole Dark Guard uniforms and commandeered a barrel of ice wine?’
Lucien draws back – flushes – laughs. ‘I could hardly forget. It was only four years ago.’
‘Five,’ Aron comments. ‘We were both fourteen.’
‘That’s right.’ Lucien stares out of the window, frowning. ‘But what were we going to do with the wine? Did we actually have a plan?’
‘We were going to get Siegfried’s father drunk, and then get him to say something indiscreet, and then dress as guards and pretend to arrest him for treason.’
Aron and Lucien were once friends? My surprise is quickly followed by curiosity. But I don’t want to derail the conversation. ‘And you thought that would be amusing?’ I ask, glancing at Odette.
She shrugs.
‘He deserved it,’ Lucien replies. ‘Aurik of Olorys is one of the most unpleasant men I’ve ever met. There were always rumours about his behaviour.’ He leans closer to Aron. ‘Do you remember?’
‘Indeed. That family has long had a reputation for violence. Supposedly they used to cut out the tongues of their flightless servants so that they couldn’t repeat anything they heard. Though that’s just hearsay of course.’
I think about Gytha and her unbroken silence, and shiver.
‘Well –’ Odette raises an eyebrow at her brother – ‘I feel sorry for Siegfried. Can you imagine, growing up with such a father? It’s amazing he’s turned out so well.’
Aron and Lucien glance at each other, but Lucien merely says, ‘It’s hard to blame Siegfried for taking control and putting a stop to Aurik’s court visits as soon as he came of age.’
‘Doesn’t Siegfried’s father suffer from gout?’ I look from Aron to Lucien. ‘I thought that was why he isn’t here.’
‘My dear cousin –’ Odette spears another moon-clam from the dish in front of her – ‘he always has gout. It’s the longest attack of gout in history. He hasn’t been seen at court for three years.’
‘I actually wonder whether Siegfried’s killed him,’ Aron says.
Odette kicks his ankle. ‘Leave my betrothed alone and tell us what happened to the barrel of wine. Did you get Aurik drunk in the end?’
‘No.’ Lucien looks at Aron and smiles. ‘We decided to try it ourselves beforehand. We tried a little, then a little more –’
‘We got completely inebriated and passed out. I think. My memory is a bit hazy.’ Aron rubs his hand over his face. ‘Didn’t you vomit into your Dark Guard helmet?’
‘I think we both did.’ Lucien laughs again. ‘And then as punishment your tutor made us put them on –’
Odette jumps up and pulls the bell to summon a servant. ‘That’s enough: you’re making me feel quite unwell. And I want some dessert.’
I knew that Lucien had been at court for several years as a teenager, but I hadn’t thought about the fact that he must have grown up with Aron and Odette. I wonder again what happened between the two boys to break their friendship. Neither of them mentions it. And when I ask Odette the next day, she claims ignorance.
As my uncle’s illness drags on, the four of us relax around each other. I almost forget about the king. Siegfried is still absent from court, leaving me waiting for news of my mother’s murderers; I feel as if the moment of revenge, the moment I’ve dreamed of for so long, is nearly at hand. But I cannot see what lies beyond it. So I try not to think about Olorys, or about Siegfried. Unfortunately, it’s getting harder to ignore Patrus. I learn from Lucien that he has tried to see the king, to get permission to marry me in the palace sanctuary without further delay. But the queen refuses to allow him in, so I don’t attach much importance to his behaviour; it seems irritating, rather than dangerous.
One evening I’m up late: there’s a star shower due to begin, and the sky is clear, so I’m planning to take my telescope – my mother’s telescope – up to the top of one of the towers. A delight in astronomy was one of the earliest gifts my mother gave me. I clearly remember standing at the top of the highest tower at Merl as she pointed out her favourite constellations: the huntress, the cygnets, the diadem. And tonight, Lucien has said he might join me. There’s a knock at my door and I assume it’s him.
‘Come in.’ I’m carefully assembling the brass stand of the telescope, so I don’t look up. ‘I’m so glad you decided to come, Lucien. Even from the window the display is –’
‘Good evening, Aderyn.’