Chapter Three - Kyprioth's Request
Aly stood amidst the chaos of packing and scowled. She had stubbornly insisted upon doing it herself, and now she actually had to face the music. Court had its appeals, surely, but the luster had worn off significantly in her absence. She sighed wearily. "Kyprioth."
The god appeared out of thin air, perched on one of the trunks. He smiled engagingly as he watched her drag gowns across the room and dump them on her bed. "I believe you wanted to see me, dearest Aly?"
"Spill," she snapped. "You've got something else you want me to do, that much is clear, now out with it. And no wagers this time."
He gave her a mock-pout and jumped to the floor with the ease and grace of a cat. "Things have grown...complicated in the Isles, for the time being, and those vipers are going to cling to power any way that they can."
She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "You didn't know that? I could have told you before we were first acquainted that Imajane and Rubinyan were snakes. That being said, I know that Sarai and Dove are going to get dragged into this somehow, so just tell me how. You want them out of the country for now, don't you?"
Kyprioth sat down on her bed, his face for once serious. "They are the raka's only hope, and I won't see them outsted by asassains, not under my watch. Imajane has men in her service who can break through the ranks to the ladies' guards easily and right under my nose." He looked at her earnestly, his face almost a perfect mimic of Nawat. "All I want you to do is keep them safe for me. Now, of course, there are risks involved, given as Imajane and Rubinyan will more than likely be extremely..."
"What about Winnamine?" she interrupted him, her voice sharp. "Petranne, Elsren? Or do you not care about them because they're luarin?" She glanced up to gauge his reaction, but he betrayed no emotion whatsoever. "Listen, Kyprioth, it was all well and done last summer when we were actually in the Isles, but this is a much more dangerous game you want me to play. Bringing Sarai and Dove here is dangerous; not only to them, but to me. And as for my family? They're not used to the stakes you're talking about. I won't stand for Imajane placing prices on their heads."
"Your mother is an enemy of state over there already, and your father is well accustomed to dangers such as these," he replied, brushing away her words with a wave of his hands. "Bring the ladies to court with you; the young men will love Saraiyu, and Dovasary will be quite at home amongst the intellectuals of the university."
Aly nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes, that's a grand idea! Why didn't I think of that?" She swept a low curtsy, as if being presented at court. "'Your Majesties, might I have the honor of presenting the ladies Saraiyu and Dovasary Balitang, of the royal house of Rittevon? Their mother is descended from the old royal line, making both girls the potential fulfillment to an ancient prophecy that promises the return of the trickster god Kyprioth to this throne, and the regaining of power by the raka natives. Did I mention that they're both under watch by Princess Regent Imajane and her husband Rubinyan? Oh, and would you believe that they're both at the center of a civil war that has the potential to throw the rest of the Eastern Lands into chaos?' Yes, I'm sure Jonathan will be most pleased."
"Fine, be difficult." He grinned wickedly. "But do remember, I am the trickster." Then, he disappeared with a poof, and Aly was left staring at empty space.
Gods, she thought disgustedly. Why can't they just let us get about our business?
Nawat had never seen a city before, that much was obvious. He looked around with a wide-eyed awe that made Aly smile. The wonderment with which he approached each new day was both refreshing and charming, especially when he turned those dark eyes on her. It was easy to forget what awaited her at the palace as they rode through the market of Corus, Nawat asking a thousand questions a minute.
Thanking the gods they both wore nondescript clothing, Aly kept a low profile, not exactly wanting to be recognized. The resulting excitement would just confuse her friend too much. Instead, she pondered what the trickster had told her, trying to decide his meaning. Was he sending Sarai and Dove anyway, despite her objections? While she wanted the girls to be safe, she also knew that harboring them potentially had serious consequences for her family, and the king and queen.
With every step closer to the palace her horse made, she gripped the reins even tighter. "Your knuckles are white," Nawat remarked casually as they passed the temples of Mithros and the Goddess. "Have you reason to be tense?" He smiled knowingly when she shook her head a little too vehemently.
Not wanting to alarm him, she tried her hardest to relax as they passed through the palace gates. Guards, recognizing the livery of the guards accompanying them, announced their entrance to those within. One of the hostlers held the reins of her horse, while another offered an arm to help her down, which she politely declined.
"What about our things?" Nawat asked as she began to walk towards the doors. "Did you forget?"
Aly looked back at him and smiled. "They'll be taken inside. That's how they do things at the palace." She placed her hand gently on his arm. "Things are different now, Nawat, and I can't act as I did in Tanair. Please, I'll explain later. Right now I have to go see my father about...something of importance."
They walked the rest of the way to her parents' apartment in awkward silence, Aly trying to think of how she was going to handle the explosive situation. She opened the door and sidled in, in case there were people around, but the main rooms seemed to be empty. A maid entered from the door leading to the dining room and swept a curtsy. "My lady."
"My father, is he in?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light and casual.
"No, my lady, the council meets at this time."
How would a maid know when council meets? she asked silently, hiding a frown. That would be something to ponder later, when she wasn't so...distracted. "Thank you." She turned to Nawat as the maid left and shrugged. "That's strange. I thought he'd want to speak with me immediately. I know for a fact Maude sent him a letter..."
"You mean this letter?" a male voice remarked through the ajar door of her father's study. Aly perked up; she knew that voice. She rushed to the doorway to see her twin brother sitting behind their father's desk, leaning back in the chair, his feet propped up on its surface. Alan smirked as he began to read aloud. "'My lord,'" he began with salacious delight in his voice, "'it has come to my attention...' Shall I go on?"
"Alan!" she exclaimed, running to him. He jumped up and gave her a crushing hug, which she returned with equal force. Although not as tall as their father or older brother, she still had to tilt her head back to meet his disconcertingly violet gaze. His hair was the same red-touched gold as hers, and he had their mother's eyes. Whereas Thom, when pried away from his books and spells, was a good deal of fun, Alan was most often dreadfully dull save a few sporadic bursts of mischievousness. Today he seemed to be in good spirits.
Aly pushed back and scowled up at him. "Wait, how did you find it?"
He looked up at the ceiling innocently and took a deep breath. "I intercepted it accidentally, and realized that if you didn't receive some kind of scathing reply, they might find it suspicious at home." Despite his usually being an impossibly upstanding citizen, Alan was excellent at forgery. He shrugged. "You were about to be hauled up here anyway, so I figured I'd just hasten things along a bit. You're not angry with me, are you?"
"Angry with you?" she repeated incredulously. "You're my favorite person alive at the moment! Can you imagine what kind of hell would have risen had that letter successfully reached him?"
"That's why I did it," he remarked flatly. "You didn't think I actually liked you or anything, did you?"
She arched an eyebrow indignantly and told him, with very colorful language, what he could do, which surprised a laugh out of him. "I see your sojourn amongst the lower classes had quite the positive effect," he teased. He glanced over her shoulder and tensed.
Aly turned her head and saw right away what had caused her brother's discomfort. "Alan," she began tentatively, "this is Nawat Crow. Nawat, this is my twin brother Alan."
Nawat's friendly smile faded when he saw the stone cold look on her brother's face. "Leave us," Alan told her. "Now."
Although it pained her greatly, she obeyed his command and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She caught sight of herself in a mirror and shuddered. Travelworn and dusty was hardly the latest fashion.
Her things had already been brought up to her wardrobe room and put away in a most organized fashion. Aly was infamous for her requests that her gowns and shoes be arranged according to color and season, a system she insisted saved her a good deal of time. She selected a silvery blue organza dress and rang for one of the servants to draw her a bath.
She soaked in the hot water for a good twenty minutes, feeling her aching joints and muscles relax. Her eyes grew heavy as she rinsed the lotions out of her hair, but a good pinch woke her up.
Mora, her maid, was waiting for her in her bedroom. She swept a small curtsy and inclined her head. "Good afternoon, my lady."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Aly replied congenially. "So, what's happening at the moment?"
Over the next several minutes she was filled in on the latest palace gossip: who was engaged to who, who was courting who, whose gown had caused a stir at a party the week before. It appeared that little had changed. She was excited to hear that the crown princess was expecting her first child sometime in the winter, although it was frightening to think that the king and queen would be grandparents.
Prince Roald was hosting a small party that night for close friends and family, and Thom was practically forcing her to go. Ever since he had met Nawat, it had become his personal mission to introduce his little sister to every young nobleman in the realm.
"They've all been asking about you," Mora told her pointedly as she began to lace the bodice of the gown. "Suck in. It's quite the fashion to have a tiny waist nowadays. Anyway, I've heard that a few are even serious, especially Kentar of Ormane."
Aly wrinkled her nose and shook her head in protest. "I should hope not. Kentar is just like his father: patronizing, womanizing, and notoriously conservative. The Ormanes wouldn't want me as mother to their precious sons."
"It would be a good political move," the maid said matter-of-factly. "You are the godsdaughter of the king and queen. Your parents are influential and wield vast power. The earl of Ormane is in great disfavor with the king, and you bring Jonathan's blessings. Would the match be so horrible? Lord Kentar is handsome and well-liked, and his family is wealthy. Such a marriage would make you a countess. Your father might not refuse such an offer, and then you would have no choice."
Aly was silent as she pondered that, and although she highly doubted her father would do something like that, a lingering succession of what ifs hovered at the back of her mind.
"There." Mora stood back to admire her handiwork. "You look lovely, Lady Aly. The other girls will be pea green with envy." She handed over the matching headpiece, a fashion that had come over from the west, called a French hood. Aly liked them far more than the gable hoods that had been in style before she left; she found them far less dowdy and matron-like.
"I suppose I'd better go see if Nawat is still alive," Aly said reluctantly. "Alan looked to be in a foul temper."
"The young man is fine," a familiar voice quipped, "and don't you look lovely. Quite an improvement over last summer, if I do say so myself."
She scowled and turned around to see the god leaning casually against the wall. Her maid looked frozen, her body completely still. "What do you want, Kyprioth?"
He straightened and shot her a crooked grin. "Nothing, my dearest lady, other than to say hello. I miss your sarcasm and your fresh outlook on life. Don't think that just because our wager is through I'm finished with you. I'm a god, remember?"
"You make it impossible to forget," Aly replied wearily. "You've got something hidden up your sleeve, I can smell it, and I'm thinking that I'm not going to be very pleased when I find out what it is. Is this some kind of warning?"
Kyprioth winked at her and disappeared with a pop, as if he'd never been there. She gave a disgusted sigh and waved a farewell to the now-reanimated Mora before sweeping out of the room. She poked her head into her father's study to find it completely empty. Damn, she cursed silently. Where did they go?
She set off in search of Nawat, knowing that her brother had other responsibilities. She was rounding a corner in the state wing of the palace when she collided into someone. Before she could apologize, she found herself looking up into the eyes of a very familiar young gentleman: Kentar of Ormane. Golden-haired and blue-eyed, he posessed a sort of beauty that was sung about in the old ballads of epic heroes and gods, although his eyes were disconcertingly cool and calculating. Outwardly, he was perfect. Outwardly.
A small smile crossed his face as he brought her hand to his lips. "Look who has returned to us at last. Your strange disappearance caused quite the stir, I assure you, which I know you are glad to hear."
His arrogance had been chafing before, and was even more so now that she was older and more seasoned in the ways of the world. She shrugged nonchalantly, determined not to let him get the better of her. "What the gossips say means little to me anymore, my lord. I'm hardly a child."
Kentar offered her his arm and nodded understandingly. "You are wise, at the ripe old age of seventeen."
Aly bit her lip to keep back the angry retort as they strolled down the hallway towards one of the oft-used public staircases of the palace. They walked in comfortable silence.
"I heard the most interesting news," he said suddenly, startling her. "My uncle Rubinyan made mention of an extraordinary young woman he heard of in the Copper Isles, a slave in the house of the late Mequen Balitang."
"Your uncle is Rubinyan Jimajen?" she asked him quickly, forgetting herself. "As in the prince regent? Married to Princess Imajane?"
Kentar frowned at her. "You did not know that? My mother was born Princess Yvanne Jimajen. She came over with Princess Josiane and married my father soon after."
She mentally cursed herself; of course she knew that. Countess Yvanne had died shortly after giving birth to her only child, and her husband had remarried after a scandalously short time. Alanna had told her that poison was suspected, although all investigations into the matter came to naught. Well this puts a new spin on things, she thought unhappily. Kentar of Ormane is a Jimajen, no matter what the circumstances surrounding his mother's death were, and he is in contact with Prince Rubinyan. He could prove useful. Then the second part of his words hit her like a ton of bricks. Wait, does he know that I'm the girl Rubinyan was talking about?
Kentar could see the wheels turning in her head, and marked her momentary lapse into silence as a sort of confession. "See here, Alianne of Pirate's Swoop," he hissed, pushing her into a niche rather roughly, "stay out of my family's affairs. You might find yourself in a rather compromising situation should you not heed my warning."
She looked up at him innocently, her hazel eyes deceptively wide. "I have no clue as to what you're talking about, Kentar."
He scowled and released her, stepping back. "Consider yourself warned. I won't do it again."
"Kentar of Ormane is a Jimajen," Aly whispered to her brother at the party that evening. She waved her fan casually back and forth as not to gain any attention. "His aunt and uncle..."
"I know who Rubinyan and Imajane are," Thom snapped back irritably. "That doesn't mean their nephew is supporting them. Besides, Yvanne died too soon for her son to feel any true Islander influence. He's more of a Tortallan than you are."
"Fine, well, if you're not going to listen to me than there's no point in talking, is there?" She stalked off without a backwards glance, edging past Daine and Nawat, who were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice her. She exchanged a few polite words with Liam and his bride-to-be, and said hello to most of her old friends. Their brightly curious eyes revealed the questions they longed to be asking, but propriety dictated that they not press the subject.
She felt a hand tug her elbow; it was Kentar, looking particularly resplendent in scarlet-trimmed white, the colors of his house. He looked slightly apologetic while still managing to have an aura of arrogance. "My lady, I would beg your forgiveness for my behavior this afternoon. It was most brash of me."
Aly frowned; since when did Kentar of Ormane offer public apologies to anyone, least of all a woman? "While your apology is accepted, my lord, I must insist that this is highly unnecessary. Why seek me out in public?"
He shot a quick look across the room that was obviously meant to be covert, but her sharp eyes didn't miss much. She followed his gaze to where her father stood conversing rather seriously with the earl of Ormane. It took all of her willpower to keep from screaming out loud. She whirled around to glare at Thom, who just stared guiltily back. "I'm sorry," he mouthed.
Sorry? she thought furiously. He's sorry?!?! Since when have I had no say in my life?
NOTE: Well, well, well. Would George do something so sneaky and evil, you ask? Answer: absolutely. This is his only daughter we're talking about, never mind how sweet and nice Nawat is. Seriously. Besides, welcome to the Middle Ages. Although Alanna and George are highly unconventional, marriages of the nobility are affairs of state. Most of the time it's not about love, if ever.
Actually, I just wanted a way to split up Aly and Nawat. In the Copper Isles, they went well together, but now it just doesn't seem right for some reason. Yes, I know I said in the beginning that this story would be Aly/Nawat, and it was (for a time, anyway), but now I'm exercising my divine right as the author to go back on my decision. Nawat has been politely warned by an ever-politic Alan to stay away from his sister, and his crow intuition will make sure he does just that.
As for the question of whether or not Aly actually goes through with what her family tells her to do, that is...up to me! *smiles* Oh, and to clarify something, yes, Alan squealed. Sort of. He gave the letter to George like any gentleman of honor would. The maintaining of his sister's reputation is far more important than their relationship in this world.