intended to visit each of the nations within the Holdings as part of a Grand Tour to celebrate his coronation, to travel even to the Hellins across the Strettosei. He spoke of his devotion to Cenzi, how he believed that the Concenzia Faith was the bedrock of the Holdings, but how the Holdings must be prepared to allow within their borders those who had yet to learn the truth of the Faith.
“The Archigos understand this, of course,” Justi said, breaking off a bit of bread, dipping it into the sauce on his plate and tucking it into his mouth. “He served Matarh well, and I expect him to do the same for me until such time as Cenzi calls for him. And after that. . well, he certainly speaks highly of you, and your skills. Only six women have ever been Archigos. Perhaps it’s time for the seventh?”
Ana thought of her shaken faith, of her lost gift, of her uncertainty, and shook her head as she sipped at the wine. “You flatter me, Kraljiki, but I’m not ready for that burden. I don’t know that I’ll ever be.”
“You would rather have A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca ascend to the title?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she answered quickly, then realized how blunt that sounded as Justi laughed.
“Your openness is charming,” he said. “Most people are afraid to speak their thoughts in front of me. But not you. .” He set his goblet down. “So tell me, Ana,” he said. “This Numetodo, Karl ci’Vliomani; does he satisfy you as a lover?”
The shock of his question, so frank and direct, startled her. Her goblet crashed against porcelain and silver as she set it hurriedly down.
“The envoy and I are not lovers, Kraljiki,” she said, swallowing and forcing herself to return his challenging, amused stare. “If this is the quality of the information Commandant ca’Rudka is giving you, then I can understand why the Numetodo have been unjustly detained.”
“Oh, the commandant is very careful to only give me verifiable facts.” Justi’s finger circled the gold-chased rim of his goblet, the thin metal ringing. “I know you were with him when he was arrested; I know you visited him at the Bastida. I was making the natural inference.”
“It would be better for the Holdings if the Kraljiki made his decisions not from inferences but from certain knowledge.”
She thought for a moment that she’d gone too far. His face darkened and lines furrowed the tall brow under his thinning hair. Then he smiled again. “You are undoubtedly correct, Ana,” he said. “So give me that knowledge. You’ve gone to see ci’Vliomani alone, more than once. If you are not lovers in fact, then what is your interest in him, an interest so strong that you would come to me to intercede for him?” He paused, but before she could form a reply, he raised a hand. “No matter; I see it in your face. There
The words were harder to say than she thought they would be.
“There is,” she admitted. “But attraction doesn’t mean there will be anything more.”
“ ‘Love rarely respects the order of life, but love is not a prerequisite for marriage,’ ” Justi said. “That’s a saying of Matarh’s. She would drag that out whenever she ordered one of her nieces or nephews to marry for the sake of Nessantico. She used it with me when she arranged my own first marriage.” He rose from his seat, the chair scraping against the parquet floor. Ana watched him come around the table to stand behind her chair. His hands stroked her neck, lifting her hair, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “The person I marry would have to understand that I would not be a faithful husband,” she heard him say.
“My appetite is. . large, and while I would certainly continue to do my duty by my wife, I also know she would not be enough for me. But I’m not an unreasonable man. I would not expect faithfulness of her, either, were she to find solace in another’s arms. Not as long as there was sufficient discretion so that no embarrassment came to me.” His fingers trailed down, under the loose collar of her teni’s robe to the nape and down to the slope of her breasts. She sucked in her breath at his touch.
“Do you understand me, Ana?”
Ana stared blindly across the table to his empty seat. She realized her hands were clenched, that she was holding her breath, that she wanted to flee.
She nodded silently.
“Good,” Justi said. His hands slid back up, cupping her face. His hands surprised her with their softness, and they held the odor of lav-ender oil.
His hands left her and turned her chair abruptly. He lifted her up, his eyes on hers now. There was fire in his eyes, but no affection. His kiss was ungentle and quick, but she opened her mouth to his tongue as his hands went around her, pulling her to him. She could feel the hair of his mustache and beard, prickling her skin. She moved her face from his with a gasp, making her own arms go around him so that she rested her head on his shoulder. She could see the painting of Kraljica Marguerite over the fireplace; she seemed to gaze almost approvingly to her. The Kraljiki’s hands slid down her back to her buttocks, pressing her against him so that she felt his arousal.
“I trust I won’t be just a duty with you, Ana,” Justi spoke in her ear.
He released her, taking her hand. She followed him, her eyes on the picture rather than him. The Kraljica’s gaze seemed to follow her as she left the outer room and went into the bedroom beyond.
Ana wondered what Renard was thinking as he led her down from the Kraljiki’s apartments the next morning well after First Call. He said nothing, walking in front of her a few strides and never glancing back.
He guided her through the back corridors and out through a door to the more public corridors of the palace.
Justi had left their bed much earlier, with a perfunctory kiss to the forehead. “The duty of the Holdings calls,” he said. “Renard will be here in a turn of the glass for you. If you would like to break your fast here, tell him and he will arrange it. I may call for you later, perhaps.”
He seemed distracted, cool and distant.
She pulled the covers to herself and watched him leave and close the door behind him. Through the carved wooden panels, she heard
servants entering the dressing chamber to assist him.
The normal bustle of the day had already begun, with the courtiers gathering near the door of the reception hall and the ca’-and-cu’ who had business at the palace that day arriving in their carriages at the front entrance. “I took the liberty of having your servants send a carriage for you,” Renard told Ana, stopping near the doors of the hall.
“It’s waiting for you now.”
“Thank you, Renard,” she told him. “I can find my way from here.”
He bowed with clasped hands to forehead and left her. Ana took a breath, pulled the cowl of her robes over her head, and started toward the main entrance and the crowds there.
“O’Teni cu’Seranta!” She heard her name called, a feminine voice, and she saw Francesca ca’Cellibrecca just leaving the hall. She detached herself from a knot of courtiers with a word and came toward her. The woman seemed to be assessing her, her head slightly tilted.
“Vajiki ca’Cellibrecca,” Ana said, clasping hands to forehead. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the loss of your husband.”
Francesca waved away the comment. Her lips pressed together before she spoke, as if she were suppressing a thought. “It’s surprising to see you here at the palais so early,” she said. “Weren’t you with the Archigos at the temple for the First Call?”
“Normally I would have been, Vajica,” Ana said. “But the Archigos sent me here to deliver a message.”
“Ah. .” Francesca smiled. “The message must have been an important one to necessitate making his favorite o’teni an errand girl.” She stopped. Sniffed the air. “Lavender,” she said. “It’s an exquisite scent, don’t you think?” Her eyebrows arched with the question.
Ana felt herself color and hoped that the cowl shadowed her face sufficiently. “Indeed,” she said. “I’m sorry, Vajica, I really must be getting back. I have a driver waiting.”
She started to hurry past the woman, but ca’Cellibrecca reached out her hand and caught Ana’s arm. Fingers dug into her biceps as Francesca drew her close. “You fuck him, don’t you, O’Teni?” she whispered, and the raw obscenity snapped her head around to glare at the woman. “Yes, you do,” Francesca purred, her voice sounding strangely satisfied. “Well, so do I. Interesting. Well, I knew I wouldn’t be the only one to share his bed. I wonder
