“Your Grace.”
I heard Duir inhale as if he were contemplating his words.
“My mother planted those roses. They are starting to bloom. Come and see.”
There was a strange undertone in his voice that made my feet heavy to move towards him.
“Come.” It was not a command, but an entreaty.
The shadows finally started falling away and the day grew even brighter. Perhaps I’d been wrong. Perhaps nothing was known and Cale remained silent. I would endure the shame, but Seton and I would go away.
“Why did you leave the palace yesterday?”
When I didn’t immediately answer, Duir grew strident.
“Why did you allow the musician your audience when you were tailoring my garment?”
I felt words bubbling up from within but none of them felt correct. What would I answer? Better, what should I answer?
I could only think to speak his familiar name in hopes of soliciting the part of him I knew as a brother. “Duir.”
“I am your King, Virago, and if you are to remain in this court, you are to remember your place as my tailor.” He swallowed hard and stared at me. “And my friend. I have ignored many things as prince that I shan’t overlook as king.”
Although I knew I should drop my eyes, I couldn’t. The velvet. Its seductive voice laughed up from the pack. Let him kill me if he thinks he is a king of any caliber! The words sprung upon my mind behind the velvet’s laughter. They were a death wish. A knock on the door and hurried voices coming from behind saved me from shouting my way into the dungeons.
“Show me what you have done, and may it be as magnificent as I hoped or you will know my disappointment.”
There was another knock at the door, more urgent, voices louder.
“Enough!” shouted Duir and the echo and power of his voice filled the chamber and silenced those on the other side.
Under his watchful eye, I lay my pack upon a nearby chair and carefully took out the vest from where it had been placed with care by my own hands.
I brought it over to him by the window. With the smell of the queen’s roses rising from the gardens, Duir saw the velvet.
He lifted the vest from me and let it undo itself from its folds. “You have not disappointed your King, but have exalted him.” Duir stared at it, eyes gleaming.
I forced lightness into my words. “Your Grace, you must put it on. Time is short, and Horace will have both our heads if you are late to your own coronation!”
He handed the vest to me. As I took it, he held out his arms.
The vest felt heavy in my hands, its weight both physical and emotional. This garment existed because I deemed it so. I was proud of each piece as a father would be of his child. Each stitch and button, the silk backing, the velvet itself, rich and foreign at first, now as familiar to me as my own skin. I undid the buttons, my fingers trembling as each one released. It had all happened, love, cruelty, realization and sadness and each of these things were woven into this vest. Was it any wonder it felt a burden upon my hands? A new King admired by those who would worship him would wear it and none would ever know the story behind each stitch.
“Virago?”
“Your Grace,” I answered, shaking myself from the painful reverie. I put the vest onto Duir. “Now you must see yourself.” As the vest left my hands, I exhaled so a small gasp escaped my lips and with it, my final acceptance of who I was and who I would have to be in the days ahead. Liberation was costly. I felt an overwhelming need to weep. I would never know the false peace I’d known before Seton, for I’d not been myself before his love spoke truth to my heart and body.
Duir made a pleased sound and strode over to a long mirror hanging beside his bed. I followed behind, and for a moment, I saw myself behind him in the reflection and our eyes met. Certain he could see the disappointment in my eyes, I moved away.
“You have done something truly wondrous with this velvet, Virago, and I am most pleased, as should you be.” His voice was cold.
“I’m most pleased, Your Grace. I only hoped you would be as happy with it as I truly am.” When I returned to the mirror, I found he now faced me. His face framed against the high-notched collar of the vest, a style I’d thought royal and fit the luxuriance of the velvet and the dark tones of his face. I was correct in my guess for Duir was truly the picture of royalty.
“May I adjust your collar, My Lord?” I asked.
“As you will, but be quick. I have lingered long and the hounds will soon break the door apart to get to me.”
“You govern the hounds, My Lord,” I adjusted the collar so it rested properly. “And the hounds know their true master. Your father would have been most proud.” I managed the words as truthfully as I could, but they sounded hollow and my hands dropped from the collar to my sides.
“As would yours,” Duir replied. “Now I must go and you must promise you will eat and drink your fill tonight at court, for after this day your hands will be busier than ever with work!”
* * * *
My duty to Duir was done. Each step from his presence brought a sigh of relief not only from my mouth, but also from my soul. It’s over! Done and over! I am free! I laughed madly with relief and startled a couple of maids who hurried
