Threads of Gold (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6) Read online

  Not until I was done, at least. As I got up from my seat and lifted the golden thread from the spool that held it in place, I slanted a look up at Tobyn. “Are you so very sure you cannot take me away?” I asked. “That is, you can come and go like the mist. Why should it be that much more difficult to make another person disappear as you do?”

  He shook his head. “I have told you, Annora — my magic only allows me to transport myself. Believe me, if it were that simple, I would have spirited you away days ago. To someplace safe, like your aunt’s home.”

  “You know of my Aunt Lyselle?” I asked, surprised.

  “I have learned a good deal about you and your family, yes. And I believe she would have shielded you while Master Jamsden prepared your defense. But all that is moot, because doing such a thing is far beyond my abilities.”

  I heard a disappointed note in his voice, as if he berated himself for his shortcomings. Which was foolish, because he certainly possessed more extraordinary skills than any other man I had ever met. “It does not matter,” I said quickly. “For Master Jamsden will prevail tomorrow, and I will be free, and then we can plan together what to do next.”

  “You sound very confident.”

  “Master Jamsden was confident, and so I will be as well.”

  That reply made him chuckle, and he kissed me again, this time lingering so we could taste one another again. My body was all shivering heat, and I thought then of how my bedchamber was so very close….

  No, that was quite out of the question. Well-brought-up young ladies did not entertain such thoughts. Or if they did, they certainly did not speak of them aloud. As if to save me from my own indiscretions, my mind went to the letter to Iselda, which I had hidden in the desk drawer. I went to it and pulled it out.

  “Would you see that this gets to my sister?” I asked as I handed the folded piece of paper to Tobyn. There had been no sealing wax that I could find, but I was certain he would not look at the letter’s contents. “I fear my father has not told her much of what has happened to me, and she should know that I am well, and safe.”

  “Of course,” he replied, before he took the letter from me and slipped it somewhere within the folds of his cloak. “I cannot go to your house myself, but I will see if Master Jamsden or one of his assistants will take it in my stead.”

  “That will be fine. I should have realized that running such an errand yourself would be impossible.”

  “Do not worry about that,” he told me, then bent and kissed me again. Softly, only a brush of his lips against mine, but even that was enough to send those delicious shivers all over my body once more. “Good night, Annora.”

  “Good night, Tobyn,” I said softly, as he stepped away from me. “Tomorrow, everything can begin anew.”

  He did not reply, but reached out to touch my cheek. And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

  I knew this would be that last time we would be forced to part in such a way.

  Chapter 11

  As a woman, I was not allowed to attend my own hearing. The law gave me the right to have a lawyer present my case, but women were not allowed in the courtroom. All I could do was wait in the suite that had become my prison, and hope that good news would reach me soon.

  Under other circumstances, such anxious waiting might have been quite nerve-wracking. But even as I sat there, the neglected embroidery hoop in my lap, I recalled the touch of Tobyn’s lips on mine, the strength of his arms around me. So much still remained to be said between us, and yet I thought we had come to an understanding. The attraction that had flared between us could no longer be denied. What that meant for our future together, when we had not yet spoken any words of love, I could not be sure, but somehow I knew there would no longer be any question of remaining apart.

  Midday came and went, as did the tray with my lunch, and still I heard nothing. By then I had abandoned my needlework altogether and stood at the window, watching as the rain promised by the cloudy day before finally began to fall. Those few who had braved the cold in the gardens fled for the shelter of the palace, some of the ladies running in a most unseemly fashion. But even that sight could not bring a smile to my lips, for the unease that had started to flare some time earlier had begun to grow into outright dread.

  At last there came a knock at my door. Mouth dry, I turned away from the window, even as Rashelle went to answer that knock. I heard her speak, low, murmuring, followed by the deeper tones of a man’s voice I did not recognize.

  As I approached, I saw that he was one of the footmen, dressed in the now-familiar blue and gold of the royal house. He bowed, but not very low — perhaps an indication of my lack of rank. Still, he sounded polite enough as he said, “My lady, His Majesty requests your presence in his audience chamber.”

  Which could mean everything, or nothing. Did he intend to give me a formal farewell, or, if Master Jamsden had not succeeded, did the king wish to humiliate me in front of all his courtiers?

  It did not matter, I supposed, for I certainly could not refuse this command couched as a request. “But of course,” I said, as calmly as I could. Ignoring Rashelle’s wide-eyed look, I went out the door and followed the footman as he led me down the corridor.

  Several days had passed since my outing with the duke in the gardens, and I found myself trying not to stare as I passed by intricate tapestries and formal paintings and small carved tables that served as stands for priceless statues and vases. The hallways were not terribly crowded, but neither were they empty, which made me hope that not all those in court waited in the audience chamber, hoping to see the fate of the commoner who had had the nerve to refuse a duke.

  Even so, that chamber seemed full enough as I entered. The footman stopped near the door, but inclined his head toward the throne. His intention seemed clear enough; I was to approach the king alone.

  I lifted my chin and did my best to ignore the avid stares of the noble lords and ladies who stood to either side. In that moment, I was glad of my borrowed finery, for in my gown of rich blue damask, I did not look like the daughter of an impoverished merchant. Tobyn’s ruby pendant rested in the hollow of my throat, warm and heavy, giving me courage.

  As the throne drew near, I saw that King Elsdon sat upon that impressive chair of carved and gilded oak. Next to him was a young man I did not recognize, but who I guessed was the king’s only son, Prince Harlin. He must have favored his late mother, for he was handsomer than his father, with a head of thick brown hair and forthright blue eyes, not the king’s pale, unsettling hue, but the serene color of a mountain lake.

  Standing on the dais, but not seated, was Lord Edmar. His gaze flicked toward me and rested there for a second or two before returning to the king. The dismissal was obvious, and I felt my heart sink. Then again, what had I expected? I had refused him, and therefore was of little worth in his eyes.

  Otherwise, I could not tell from his expression what the High Court’s judgment in my case might have been. My own eyes shifted to the king, but he appeared equally impassive. Perhaps that was a good sign? Surely if my suit had been dismissed as frivolous, he would look far more cheerful than he did now.

  I had no choice but to approach the dais, however, then pause a foot or so away and perform the best curtsey I could manage. Behind me, I heard a few tittering laughs, no doubt the good ladies of the court amusing themselves with my ineptitude. Anger flared, but I tried to keep my own expression as neutral as the king’s. I did not want them to see how they had discomfited me.

  “Your Majesty,” I said.

  “Annora Kelsden,” he replied. His hands grasped the arms of his throne, fingers tightening over a pair of smooth-carved orbs of onyx. “The High Court has heard your case.”

  And? I wanted to ask, but I held my tongue. The king clearly had news he wished to deliver to me, but it was equally clear that he wished to do so in his own time.

  “It was decided that you should be allowed to go free.”

  Jo
y leapt in my heart then. As I stared up at His Majesty, however, a cold trickle of fear stirred somewhere in my midsection. He did not look angry, which was what I had been expecting, given that the court had just thwarted his wishes and granted me my freedom. No, instead something in his eyes was considering, weighing. For just the briefest fraction of a second, his attention seemed to flicker to the young man sitting next to him.

  What that meant, I had no idea. Prince Harlin was watching me, but only in an idly curious way, as if he was not certain why I should have been called here like this at all. That made two of us, I supposed. Since the king had not prevailed in keeping me as his prisoner, I had to wonder why he had not quietly let me go home, rather than make a spectacle of me in front of all his court.

  “Thank you for sharing the court’s decision with me, Your Majesty,” I said, my tone all politeness. “Then may I assume that I will no longer be enjoying your hospitality, and may return to my father’s house?”

  “Not precisely,” he replied. Once he again he glanced at his son, who appeared to note something odd in his manner as well, for the younger man sat up a little straighter in his own throne-like chair, his eyes beginning to narrow. “Your worth to this kingdom, Annora Kelsden, is far too great to be squandered in the household of a mere merchant. Indeed, you are a jewel not even worthy of Lord Edmar here.”

  My brows drew together in a frown, even as I fought desperately to appear as placid as possible. The icy fear that had started somewhere in my midsection now seemed to pass over my entire body. Was this some sort of horrible joke at my expense? Had the king brought me here merely to humiliate me?

  Once again I allowed a quick glance over at the duke. At the king’s mention of his name, Lord Edmar had stiffened slightly, but the same half-smile touched his lips as before. I would learn nothing from watching him. Perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could. After all, he was a veteran of the court, and knew what manner of games might be played here. As I was a hopeless novice, I could only watch and wait.

  King Elsdon stood then, and so his son rose as well, his forehead now wearing a puckered little frown to match my own. “Because of your great worth, Annora, I have decided that you must remain here as a member of my household. It is my command that you marry my son, Prince Harlin.”

  At that insane statement, delivered with all calmness and authority, the watching members of the court let out a collective gasp, and the prince rounded on his father, eyes blazing.

  “What madness is this, sir? Have you forgotten that I am already wed to a princess of Farendon?”

  “Who has been your wife these three years, and has yet to provide you with an heir. Or,” the king added, mouth curling with contempt, “even a daughter who might allow us to make an advantageous alliance. We shall have the marriage annulled, and send her back to her father.”

  “This is preposterous!” Prince Harlin spluttered, but the king held up a hand.

  “Steward, if you will clear the hall.”

  Immediately following this command, a tall man with a forbidding brow stepped out from the far end of the dais. He held a silver-tipped rod of black wood in one hand and raised it as he spoke. “The king desires you all to go.”

  I heard murmuring, but the group of nobles who had been watching the display — several of them wearing expressions of glee at being witness to such a juicy bit of gossip — all obediently turned and made their way from the audience chamber. Even Lord Edmar, who shot me a sardonic glance, complete with raised eyebrow, as he passed me by. Within a moment or two, they were gone, and the footmen had shut the doors behind them. All that was left behind was a ghost of the perfumes they wore, and a glittering comb that must have fallen from a lady’s hair.

  Through all this activity, I had been rooted more or less frozen in place, uncertain as to what I should do. Surely this had to be some monstrous joke of the king’s, although I had to admit to myself that I could not understand why he would choose to create such a scene in public.

  As I stood there, Prince Harlin turned from his father and sent me an almost pitying glance. “I assume, my lady, that this pronouncement of His Majesty’s comes as much as a surprise to you as it does to me?”

  My voice seemed to fail me then, and I could but nod.

  “So then, sir, it seems you must explain yourself to both the lady and me,” the prince said. He sounded more calm now, as if he had gotten over the initial shock of his father’s preposterous proposal and now wished to get to the heart of the matter.

  King Elsdon lifted his shoulders. Around his neck, a chain of heavy square-cut garnets and gold glittered. “What is there to explain? The lady has a resource this kingdom needs far more than a tenuous agreement with a land far enough away that I doubt very much they would ever come to our aid.”

  “Strange that you did not have such a low opinion of Farendon’s might when you betrothed me to one of its daughters.” The prince folded his arms and gave his father a measuring stare. “Or is it merely that you thought it a good deal at the time, but now believe you have something better? Although I must confess some difficulty in attempting to discern what that might be. No insult meant to you, my lady,” he added, with an apologetic glance in my direction.

  How could I take any insult from his comment? I was only the daughter of a merchant. Many would have said I was reaching far too high in attempting to align with a duke, but the prince himself? King Elsdon’s sole heir? It was quite unthinkable.

  “I did not take any offense, Your Highness,” I said quietly.

  The king said, “Annora here has the means to give our kingdom riches without end. With her at your side, you could make Purth the greatest realm on the continent.”

  Prince Harlin shook his head. “Father, I understand that there is something strange here — else you would not have first attempted to have her marry Lord Edmar — but how on earth can one young woman possibly do as you say?”

  A gleam came into the king’s pale eyes. “I will show you. And you, Annora,” he added, “you will come along as well.”

  That was an invitation I wished I did not have to accept, but I knew I had no choice. Just as I could not protest this insane match the king was proposing. It was one thing to turn down the duke, but for a commoner to decline the suit of the prince himself? That was bordering on treason. No, my only hope was that Prince Harlin truly loved his wife, and would have nothing of this annulment, no matter what his father’s wishes might be.

  So I followed meekly as the king stepped down from the dais and went out through a door halfway hidden by a set of heavy velvet draperies. The prince was only a few steps ahead of me, confusion and anger clear in the stiff set of his shoulders. How I wished then that I had some way to call Tobyn to me! But he was most likely safe at home, and though he possessed great powers, none of them seemed to include the ability to speak across the miles. In this, it seemed, I would have to fend for myself.

  We walked down a corridor far less grand than the ones I had traversed to reach the audience chamber. This hallway seemed to be in an older section of the palace, or perhaps one used mainly by the servants. The walls were plain white plaster, with dark beams overhead, and the floor beneath our feet age-darkened wood. And soon enough we came to a set of stairs that led downward. The king surged ahead, and I gathered my skirts in my hand so I might not trip, for the way was not well lit.

  Prince Harlin turned back toward me. “Do you need any assistance, my lady?”

  Blood heated my cheeks at his solicitude, and I shook my head. “No, Your Highness. I think I shall do well enough. But thank you for the offer.”

  He nodded and went on ahead, a few paces behind King Elsdon. I had not expected the prince to be quite so kind, not when his own father was apparently attempting to force him to marry me. But perhaps he had realized this was none of my doing, and that I was quite as reluctant as he.

  The air seemed to grow colder and almost dank as we descended the steps. When we reached the bottom
of the staircase, the floor beneath my feet was now stone. A few wan candles flickered from sconces on either side, but I still found it difficult to see clearly. I could not begin to guess where we might be going.

  The prince seemed to have some idea, though. “Why on earth are you taking us to the treasury, Father?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The treasury. Of course. King Elsdon would show his son the evidence of my craft, and then the prince would have to decide whether angering the king of Farendon was a fair trade for apparently unending supplies of gold.

  Of course he will not, I told myself. It is clear enough that Prince Harlin is a man of honor, no matter what his father might say or do.

  I had to hope my estimation of the prince was correct. Unfortunately, as I had seen of late, greed could do strange things to a man’s soul.

  We stopped in front of a large iron-barred door of thick oak. Two guards stood watch there, but they bowed deeply to their king and prince, eyes flicking in some curiosity toward me.

  “Your Majesty,” one of the guards said.

  “I wish to enter.”

  They bowed again, and the one who had not spoken retrieved a heavy key from the chain at his belt and then inserted it in the door’s lock. He opened it, stepping aside so we might enter.

  The chamber seemed vast to me, but that might have been because it was quite dark. More candles sat on sconces near the door. Their light, however, only served to illuminate the area nearest us. All the rest was in shadow, although I got the impression of large bulky shapes — casks or chests or other means of storage — lurking in the corners and along the walls.

  “Take up one of those candles, Harlin,” the king commanded his son. Prince Harlin lifted a pillar of beeswax from the sconce nearest him and held it in one hand. Even in the uncertain light, I could see the grim set of his mouth. Yes, he was humoring his father because he must, but it seemed clear enough that this entire undertaking was distasteful to him.