“Darzin, you ass,” Senera muttered under her breath.
Darzin just grinned. “I had always suspected. I loved my daughter-in-law, but I’m not a fool. After she tried for so long to bear a child without success, how could I ignore when she returned from their district tour with a babe Frena had never carried? She never produced milk for Janel. She never lost her maidenly figure. I knew my son had had difficulties giving Frena a child. I knew of their longing. So I didn’t question too much such a miraculous birth. They loved her, as did I.”
I felt dizzy and faint. The entire table had stopped talking to each other; they were all listening to Darzin’s reading. “Please stop.”
But Darzin didn’t stop. “But there can be no denying the child is not Joratese. I have been forced to go to House D’Mon—” Darzin paused. “Oh, hey, that’s me. Anyway, House D’Mon, accepting their outrageous fees—it’s true, we are expensive—to make sure the girl has proper horse markings. The cost left us in poor sorts when the Hellmarch came, and little in our coffers to help with the recovery after. Thus, I throw myself on your mercy and offer a possible solution. Though she’s of common blood, Janel is comely. She’d make your youngest son a fine wife. Thus, would Tolamer continue to be ruled by noble blood, as is right and proper. Signed with greatest respect, Jarin Theranon.”
“No,” I said. I felt a flustered sense of panic. Yes, I knew my grandfather had arranged the marriage with Sir Oreth. Yet he hadn’t protested when I’d announced I’d wanted nothing more to do with the idea. My grandfather had never treated me as anything other than his grandchild. He had never treated me as less.
It couldn’t be true.
“You should have just accepted destiny and let me marry you,” Sir Oreth said. “Instead, here we are.” He gestured around him and then paused. “I mean, no offense.”
“Oh, the look on your face, little girl,” Darzin said to me. “Your whole world just fell to pieces, right before my eyes.” He looked over to Relos Var. “Seriously, name your price for her. What do you want?”
“I want you to be smarter,” Relos Var snapped. “But it’s not a sum you’ll ever raise.”
Next to him, the bald man in black began laughing.9
I paid attention to their banter just in case Relos Var tried to sell me, but my attention was focused on Oreth. He’d started out laughing and sneering at my humiliation, but the longer Darzin read that damning letter, the more Oreth’s mockery turned to anger. An anger that, after all these years, I finally understood.
His actions had always been a mystery to me. We had danced around each other with the tender curiosity of two foals at play, knowing from an early age we were betrothed. But as the stories of Janel Danorak spread, it became clear I would grow up a stallion. His whole demeanor changed. He never showed me thudajé. He must have known about my parentage all along and thought it proof that he was better than I was. My common blood meant I was destined to be the mare to his stallion and never the reverse.
I had refused, for all these years, to know my place.
“Huh, well, that’s surprising,” Darzin said. “Here I assumed you just wanted a new flavor of young and innocent to corrupt, but I guess you might have feelings for her. Then again, Var, you do like marrying throwaways, don’t you?”
Next to me, I felt Senera tense.
“Enough,” warned Duke Kaen.
Relos Var raised an eyebrow. “Yes, yes. Janel’s real mother was a dancing girl, and her father was a Khorveshan soldier.” He leaned forward to look at Darzin. “Are you implying having a Khorveshan parent is an embarrassment? Wasn’t your mother Khorveshan?”10
I couldn’t help but notice that the eyes of those not focused on Darzin or Relos Var now looked toward Duke Kaen’s son. His clearly mixed-race Yoran son. Exidhar’s brown skin and black hair clearly suggested his mother hadn’t come from Yor.
Exidhar Kaen shifted in his seat, an embarrassed blush on his face. He saw me looking at him and schooled his expression into something haughty and malicious.
I hadn’t made a friend there.
Darzin seemed to realize his blunder. “Of course, I didn’t mean that. The Khorveshan bloodlines are the most honored in the empire. Anyway, despite young Oreth’s opinion here, your new bride’s not a commoner, not with those god-touched ruby eyes. Her mother must have been an Ogenra of House D’Talus, obviously.”
Relos Var reached for his drink. “Obviously.”
Beside me, Senera relaxed. People moved on to other conversational topics. Politics. Gossip. What might be done to undermine the empire’s control. I should have been paying better attention, but I couldn’t focus.
I felt sick. They had to be lying. I had grown up under Xaltorath’s tender care. I knew the sorts of lies that could be wielded like daggers to nick and cut and bleed. I also knew the truth could be used to rip open the same veins. And truth was a far easier blade to sharpen.
“Don’t let them see it bother you,” someone whispered.
I looked over. One of the black-clad royals had spoken. The bald one.
“They thrive on the pain they cause,” he said. “It feeds them. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”11
“They? Aren’t you one of them?”
His mouth quirked. “I’m nothing like them.” He wasn’t looking at me. The voices around us created a din. Yet somehow, I still heard his whisper. “My name is Thurvishar D’Lorus. I’ll try to help if I can, but don’t rely on it. My hands are tied in many ways.”
“Which house is D’Lorus—”
“Books. We run the Academy.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t say anything more. The Academy. A school, yes, but I’d been able to hear the capital letter. The wizard’s school in Kirpis.
I glanced at him sideways. I couldn’t tell his age. He had the sort of chiseled face that looks old when young and young when old. When he glanced in Relos Var’s direction, I saw his eyes matched his dress. Black, the color of mystery. Outside of Jorat, also the color of magic.
Whatever his Royal House colors, he probably just wanted to share the thrill of humiliating the newest addition to court. Thurvishar D’Lorus was just cleverer about it than Darzin D’Mon.
When Senera and I left, the men stayed to share drinks and swap outrageous stories. I didn’t notice the nasty old woman had vanished from her place at the fire.
But it wouldn’t have meant anything to me even if I had.
* * *
“It’s a little like eating with a pack of wolves, isn’t it?” Senera said later as we returned to the room. “They snap and wrestle and try to push themselves in each other’s way. They all want to be favorites when Kaen overthrows the empire, each with their own dominion to rule. Idiots.”
I didn’t respond. We kept walking.
She stopped in the hallway and turned to face me. “I’ve studied Joratese culture enough to understand ‘noble blood’ isn’t a requirement for ruling. Don’t your people always say the proof of blood is in deeds? Even if you’re adopted, it doesn’t change anything.”