‘I’ve questioned the intentions of the goddess these past three years, and she has whispered to me over and over again, “
He leaned over and kissed her. ‘And I have a bad feeling that I’ll never have a moment on my own with you again,’ he murmured. He heard a sound coming from Jasmina and he lay back down on his side again.
‘Tomorrow,’ she whispered, ‘between me seeing the Flatland Lords about the cistern system and you placating the fishmongers about the taxes, I think we may be close to the guest closet on the third landing before I have to go off and speak to the Ambassador about Belegonia and you have to speak to Beatriss about Sennington.’ She paused. ‘We’ll have time.’
He sighed. ‘So I’m reduced to taking my wife up against a wall in a palace closet?’
She chuckled in the dark.
‘And why do I have to speak to Beatriss?’ he asked with a groan. ‘I’d rather speak to the Ambassador about Belegonia.’
‘She may not have given birth to you, but Beatriss loved you as a mother in the years she was betrothed to your father, and still does. Perhaps you’re the best person to speak to her, or Tesadora if she returns to her senses and comes back up the mountain. Beatriss can’t live in that dead village any longer, Finnikin.’
He was pensive a moment. ‘Tesadora reacted strangely to the news of the Charynite. She was not surprised about the curse and then she left all of a sudden and I could swear it seemed as though she would cry.’
‘Tesadora doesn’t cry.’
‘And you should have seen Perri’s face. He was quiet through our whole journey home.’
She sat up and lit the candle by her bedside.
‘Why didn’t you ask him what was wrong?’ she asked, alarmed. ‘If Tesadora was almost crying and Perri was stranger than usual?’
He shrugged. ‘What would I have said?’
She made a rude sound.
‘You men are useless.’
Finnikin sighed. ‘We choose to mind our business and we’re useless?’
She shook her head. ‘Do you know the difference between you and I?’
‘An obvious one or not so obvious?’
She ignored the question. ‘I speak to other women about life and death and what upsets us and what confuses us and what we’d want to change in our lives. And you, my love, talk to men about what the terminology is for this.’ She made a strange movement with her hands.
‘Is that a death blow to the nose?’
She gave him a withering look, blowing out the candle.
‘That’s harsh, Isaboe. We talk about more than that.’
‘Such as?’
‘Life,’ he snapped. ‘Life … things. Things to do with life.’
‘Then have you spoken to your father about when he is going to have a bonding ceremony with Beatriss?’
He sighed.
‘Because that’s life, Finnikin. The life of two people very dear to me. And I believe your father is going to ruin everything by not speaking of the past.
‘Do they have to talk about the past?’ he asked.
‘Yes. They were lovers once. She gave birth to his babe, rest that precious soul. Yet they haven’t grieved together.’
‘This is not your concern, Isaboe.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Although Trevanion was strangely quiet on the way home. Everyone was strange.’
‘I’m not just speaking for Beatriss, Finnikin. I’m speaking for Trevanion. He is your father and in my heart, he is the only father I have. I want him to be happy and I know that without her, he isn’t.’
‘He’s wonderful with Vestie,’ he said, thinking of Beatriss’s daughter who was born under horrific circumstances during the curse. ‘He would do anything for her.’
‘And I commend him for that. I could imagine how hard it would be for him to feel so strongly about another man’s child. A tyrant’s child. But it’s Vestie who will be hurt the most, Finnikin. Find out what you can.’
‘Ah, so I’m not going to see Beatriss to speak about Sennington. I’m going to speak about my father?’
She pressed her lips against his shoulder.
‘I’ve married the smartest man in Lumatere.’
‘And I’ve married the most scheming woman in the whole of the land.’
She feigned a haughty sniff, moving away. ‘If it all seems like a scheme I may have to withdraw my offer of a tryst in the closet tomorrow.’
This time Finnikin chuckled.
‘Withdraw the offer and I will dash my head against a stone wall.’
Chapter 5
Froi took leave from Lord August’s village and spent the next week in the mountains with Trevanion and Perri interrogating the Charynite. Although the Captain hadn’t confirmed for certain that Froi was going to Charyn, Froi knew he was there with them for reasons other than his skill with the Charyn language.
‘It’s one of the best-defended castles in the entire land,’ Rafuel explained to them, ‘and it has little to do with the Guard or soldiers and everything to do with the actual stone and structure.’ The Charynite drew them a picture and Froi committed it to memory, translating the information to Trevanion and Perri.
‘Ask him more about the lastborns,’ Trevanion requested.
‘Firstly, there is Quintana of Charyn,’ Rafuel began when Froi asked. ‘She was the very last to be born to the entire kingdom on the day of weeping.’
‘Only her?’ Froi asked. ‘Was there no one else born that day?’
‘Then there are those born last to their province,’ Rafuel continued, ignoring the question. ‘Grijio of Paladozza and Olivier of Sebastabol, for example, were born to their provinces three days and five days prior to Quintana’s birth. Tariq was born to his people a month before Quintana. Satch of Desantos was born last in his province six months before. And every girl born in the same year as Quintana is marked as a lastborn.’
‘Gods,’ Trevanion muttered. ‘He better be speaking the truth when he claims those girls have gone to ground.’
Froi repeated Trevanion’s words. He saw Rafuel’s teeth clench.
‘Do you Lumaterans believe you protect your women better than we protect ours?’ he asked.
‘The Captain judges Charynite men by the way they treated Lumateran women. His beloved was dragged into the beds of your men time and time again, and gave birth during the curse,’ Froi said.
‘Not my men,’ Rafuel said bitterly. ‘Mine are peaceful scholars down in that valley. And the Charyn army may have raped. That I won’t deny. But it’s not only our women who are barren,’ Rafuel said. ‘The seed of a Charynite male is useless. Whoever fathered Beatriss of the Flatlands’ child is no Charynite.’
Froi stared at him, stunned. He looked up at Trevanion and Perri. Through the mere mention of Beatriss’s name, they would have comprehended Rafuel’s words, regardless of the speed at which Rafuel was speaking. Perri had paled. Worse still, Froi saw the truth on Trevanion’s face. The Captain already knew. He would have known from the moment Rafuel of Sebastabol revealed the curse days ago.
‘Ask him about their gods,’ Trevanion said, as if nothing had occurred.
Rafuel spent the rest of the day speaking mostly of Charyn customs and their beliefs, their produce and their gods. There were too many gods to learn by heart. In Lumatere, there was Lagrami and Sagrami, one Goddess worshipped as two deities for hundreds of years. Even in Sarnak where Froi had grown up, Sagrami was worshipped.
