Chapter Three
fortunately, there was no real opportunity for Corene to pursue this newfound friendship right away. The evening finally ended and Val was able to retreat to her bedroom, collapse on her bed, and sleep until late morning. At which point the maid who arrived to help her dress informed her that Darien was hosting an informal luncheon for the family members and primes who had remained at the palace, and she should put in an appearance within the hour. Val groaned but climbed out of bed and proceeded to make herself presentable.
Contrary to her expectations, the luncheon was indeed a casual affair with only about a dozen people in attendance, and she actually liked one of them. She filled her plate from the sideboard then made her way directly toward Taro Frothen, the torz prime, and one of her favorite people in the world. He was a big, rumpled, comfortable man who looked like he’d come straight off the farm even on the days he was dressed in formal attire and about to meet foreign royalty. Today he hadn’t bothered with the pretense. He wore wrinkled trousers and a loose, overlarge tunic marked with several visible repairs. It was possible he hadn’t combed his hair, or even washed it. But as Val set her plate down next to his and pulled up a chair, he gave her a warm smile that bathed her whole body in sunshine.
“There you are,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since you’ve been in Chialto. How are you doing?”
“I hate it here,” she replied promptly. “I want to go home.”
He nodded. “So do I. Let’s leave right after we eat.”
She laughed. Taro was famous for refusing to travel to the city except when it was absolutely imperative, which usually was less often than either Vernon or Darien would have liked. “Maybe I’ll come visit you for a while,” she said.
He nodded at his wife, who was sitting at the other end of the table. She was holding Celia on her lap and having an animated conversation with Mirti and Zoe. “We’d be happy to have you. Stay as long as you like.”
“And you could tell me what I should do with the smaller farm,” she said, and launched into a recitation of her latest crop troubles. He listened intently and made a few suggestions, and she felt herself growing more cheerful than she had since her arrival in Chialto. Taro always had that effect on her. Well, he had that effect on most people. The torz prime was affiliated with the land and the body, and he personified the joy of earthly pleasures, simple touch, fellowship, solidity, and nurturing plenty. Everyone drew strength from the torz prime.
She was related to him somehow through her mother, though her mother hadn’t been a Frothen by birth. “You can just consider me your uncle,” he had told Val when she was a little girl, and so she had. She suspected he extended the same offer to everyone, but not everyone needed it as much as she had. Sometimes it was hard to be hunti, all precise angles and strict rules. Sometimes she had to rest all those edges against something a little more forgiving.
They had been talking for twenty minutes when someone tapped a fork against a glass goblet to gather the attention of everyone in the room. “Who would be so rude?” Val huffed under her breath.
“Nelson,” Taro replied. “Of course.”
Nelson Ardelay was the sweela prime, a loud, cheerful man with the red hair and ruddy coloring that characterized most of his clan. He perfectly modeled the sweela traits of fire and mind, as he was both restless and brilliant. He was close to Zoe, whose father had been Nelson’s brother; and given that Corene was sitting right next to him, Val suspected that he was close to the princess as well. Val had always found him a bit overbearing and not entirely comfortable to be around, but it was impossible not to like him.
“Let us all drink a toast to our new king!” Nelson exclaimed, holding aloft a glass of fruited water. “Maybe he rule long and peacefully, and may Welce prosper under his hand.”
Everyone else greeted this proposal with murmurs of agreement, raising their own glasses and tilting them in Darien’s direction. Darien responded with a nod and a cool smile, his expression as composed as ever.
Nelson dropped back to his seat and leaned across the table in Darien’s direction. “So tell us! What great plans do you have in store for the first year of your glorious reign?”
“No great plans,” Darien said, though everyone in the room knew he wouldn’t share them if he had them. “I hope to continue expanding our international trade, particularly developing more agreements with Malinqua and Cozique. I hope to maintain peace with Soeche-Tas—though, as you know, that’s always a fraught and fragile endeavor. But at the moment, their leaders aren’t agitating for any impossible arrangements, so our current treaties hold.”
Nelson sipped at his water with such enthusiasm that Val suspected he might have added a measure of alcohol to spice it up. “But there’s a little trouble brewing with Soeche-Tas, isn’t there? Wasn’t there a skirmish along the border just a couple of days ago?”
Welce shared a small continent with Soeche-Tas, though the two nations were divided by an inhospitable mountain range that discouraged large-scale conflicts. Val’s father had once said that if any of the mountain passes had been wide enough to allow three men to walk through side-by-side, the countries would have been permanently at war. But they both maintained excellent navies and patrolled their ocean approaches so diligently that there had never been any reason to open hostilities.
Darien nodded again. Val couldn’t tell from his impassive expression if he was annoyed that Nelson had introduced the topic. “There was. There have been a number of these small skirmishes, as you call them, over the past five or six months. I am working to contain them. I am not sure yet how ruthless I will have to be.”
Mirti looked over with a frown. “What’s the problem?”
Darien toyed with the stem of his own water glass. “International commerce, in fact, is the root cause. Soeche-Tas has been ramping up its exportation of sirix, which, for those of you who don’t know, is a specialty wine with a rapidly growing popularity. The government has been subsidizing small vineyards in an effort to increase production, while buying up larger operations to run under its own auspices. Their goal, as I understand it, is to make sirix a luxury product famous the world over—or at least, famous among the southern nations.”
“Everybody in Cozique was mad for it when I was there,” Corene said. “But you could hardly ever find it and it was so expensive. If you were at a party and the hostess served sirix, you knew the event would be a success.”
Val shared a glance with Taro and they both rolled their eyes. As if anyone could care that much about a drink. As if anyone could care that much about a party.
“On the face of it,” Mirti said in her usual dry way, “this doesn’t seem to concern Welce at all.”
“It wouldn’t, except that there is a thriving black market in smuggled sirix.”
“Which, again, Welce shouldn’t care about,” Nelson said.
“Except that much of the contraband is going through Welchin hands and Welchin ports.”
“Ahhhh.” Nelson leaned back in his chair, still fiddling with his glass. “So the Soechin government is losing profits because of the illegal activities of its own countrymen—but it’s blaming Welce for making those illegal activities possible.”
“Precisely,” said Darien. “And it’s not just that the government is losing revenue. It wants to position itself as the source of a luxury product, but sometimes the smugglers are exporting inferior products and marketing them under pirated labels.”
“Diluting the quality of the brand and making buyers more skittish, thus depressing the market further,” Nelson said.
Corene unexpectedly entered the conversation. “I don’t see that as a problem at all,” she said. “The authentic vintners simply have to find ways to guarantee their products. They can raise their prices and gain even more cachet because what they’re selling is genuine.”
“Except some buyers don’t care if what they have is genuine or not,” Nelson said. “They just like to appear as if they’re up on the latest fashions.”
“It doesn’t really matter to me what motivates the people who buy the pirated sirix,” said Darien. “If Soeche-Tas is distressed by the smugglers and blames Welce for providing safe passage, my concern is figuring how to shut down the illegal operations on this side of the border.”
Taro lifted his voice. “What have you done so far?”
Darien looked frustrated. “Very little. As far as I can tell, there is no real centralized operation—just a network of loosely connected confederates who follow dozens if not hundreds of different routes to bring the contraband into the country.”
“Are they coming across the mountains?” Taro asked.
“Sometimes. Sometimes they’re coming in at the smaller ports.”
“You mean like the one up by the northwest border?” Zoe said.
“Unfortunately, no,” Darien said. “I could set up a blockade there. But the wine fetches such a high price that they don’t need much to make a profit. So they’re bringing it in barrel by barrel, using small private docks and fishermen’s piers and narrow coves that barely accommodate a rowboat.”
Nelson looked both appalled and amused. Val had the sense that he might be on the side of the smugglers. He loved an enterprising scoundrel. “There must be thousands of docks like that on the western seaboard.”
“Exactly. I cannot possibly patrol every one.”
“And I suppose the problem is the same with the mountain passes,” said Taro. “There are countless places where a single man can squeeze through with a small cargo. You’d have to spread an army across the continent to guard them all.”
“Exactly,” Darien repeated. “All I can really do is heighten security in the main harbor south of Chialto, but that’s a delicate balance. I don’t want to make the port unfriendly to the foreign merchants I have been working so hard to entice to Welce. And I certainly don’t want to give them reasons to head for Soeche-Tas ports instead.”
“Well, it’s a conundrum,” Nelson said. His voice was edged with boredom; clearly, he was less excited about the challenges of law enforcement than the logistics of smuggling. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
Darien rested his gray eyes on Nelson’s face. “I certainly hope so,” he said. “Let me know if any clever ideas occur to you.”
After that, conversation became general again. Taro’s attention was claimed by Mirti, but his wife took his place at Val’s side. Since she was also a warm torz presence, Val barely minded the substitution. But she was just as glad when people started leaving and it looked like the last celebration of the coronation might finally, finally be over.
Maybe she could go home tomorrow or the day after. She could leave Chialto behind so quickly she would barely remember she’d been here at all.
***
It turned out Darien had other plans.
Late in the afternoon, he asked her to meet him in his office, a comfortable room with high ceilings and plush furniture. He’d placed a couple of chairs before the tall windows and set up a tray of refreshments between them, as if he thought they would have a cozy chat. Val warily sank into a seat and accepted a glass of fruited water from his hand.
“Are you en***oying your visit?” he asked.
She didn’t particularly want to antagonize him, so she shaded the truth. “It’s been interesting to be back in Chialto after so long,” she said. “But I miss the quiet of my house.”
He held a glass of his own but didn’t sip from it; instead, he studied her for a moment. “I find myself wondering if the house might be too quiet for you.”
“What? Why would you think that?”
“There’s nothing but farms and small towns for a hundred miles. I can’t think you have much in the way of entertainment or companionship.”
“Fortunately, I don’t require entertainment and I don’t need much companionship,” she snapped.
He tilted his head to one side. “I am not certain it is good for you to be buried in the countryside as you are,” he said.
“I am not certain you’re an expert on what’s good for me.”
“You have to realize I have your best interests at heart.”
She remained silent and ***ust watched him. Darien was the most determined and unyielding person she had ever met. If he had a plan in mind, he was all but certain to execute it. He almost always got his way.
Of course, Val herself was hunti to the bone. She prided herself on being one of the few people who had occasionally refused to yield to Darien’s wishes.
“I’ve been thinking you might come stay in Chialto for some time,” he said. “A few ninedays. Maybe a quintile or two.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard my reasons.”
She remembered her conversation with Corene the night before. “You don’t want to try to marry me off to some foreign dignitary, do you?”
His face lightened with one of his rare smiles. “I can imagine few schemes more destined for failure! Unless you had someone in mind?”
She felt an unexpected smile tug at her own mouth. “I’ve met very few of them, but the stories I’ve heard make most of them sound dreadful.”
“I would lock you in your room if you wanted to run away with a viceroy from Soeche-Tas,” he agreed. “Or a prince from Berringuey. Or the Karkades. Or Dhonsho. Each nation barbaric and terrifying in its own way, at least when it comes to the customs at court. I believe the heirs to the throne in Malinqua are more sophisticated and less blood-thirsty, so I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to take up residence there. Though Cozique would be your best choice, from everything I hear. A beautiful country, an enlightened queen, and a very civilized society. Corene lived there for a couple of quintiles, and she makes it sound most attractive.”
“I’ve learned to speak Coziquela,” Val said, “but I have no desire to visit the country. I’m not much for travel, as you know.”
“I’m happy to have you stay in Welce, but I wish you would extend your visit to Chialto.”
That quickly he had managed to turn the conversation back to his original topic. “I don’t want to remain in Chialto,” she said. “I like my life at home. I miss my house.”
“It’s been an empty house since our mother died,” he said deliberately.
It had been obvious that would be his attack, so she was braced for it; she didn’t even flinch. “I employ half-a-dozen workers who share the property, and I have daily interactions with tenants, neighbors, merchants, and friends. I can’t remember the last time I was truly alone. I don’t think you need to picture me sobbing in solitude.”
“I still believe a change would do you good,” he said. “I would like you to come to Chialto.”
She permitted herself a small, cold smile, not really a smile at all. “Why now? Our mother has been dead for nearly two years.”
“And I have invited you here many times,” he reminded her. “This is the first chance I have had to make the offer in person.”
“Why would that be?” she asked. “Oh, because you’ve rarely bothered to come to the house in the past six years?”
“More often than you’ve come to the city.”
“I don’t like the city.”
“You don’t like change.”
“An interesting accusation from a hunti man.”
“But your life has changed around you against your will,” he went on. “And unless I miss my guess, you’re still grieving.”
In an instant, she lost her calm control. “And unless I miss mine, you never grieved at all.”
He didn’t look hurt or surprised, though his expression turned a shade more sober. “Our mother’s death hit me harder than anything since our father died. Some days the world still seems off-balance.”
“And yet you left me wholly alone to care for her while she was sick.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “I was there five times that last year.”
“Five times! Five ninedays at most! I was there every hour. Every minute. Every chore fell to me, every decision. Should I try this treatment, should I move her to this room, should I bring in her closest friends or should I keep her quiet to conserve her strength? The burden was so heavy and I had no one to share it with. You were the one who should have shared it. But you weren’t there. Even before she was sick—all those years, as she began failing—I had to take care of everything because you weren’t there.”
A shade of anger crossed his face, a rare display of emotion from Darien. “No. I was trying to shore up a dying king and prevent the country from falling apart. I was chasing down criminals who had tried to kill a princess and serving as regent for a child too fragile to ever take the throne. I had responsibilities so numerous and so immense that some days I did not think I could perform them. And you would have asked me to walk away from them?”
“Someone else could have performed them! You’re not the only man who can govern a kingdom.”
He struck back hard. “You’re not the only woman who can manage a sickroom. Would you have trusted someone else to take care of our mother?”
She stared at him and did not have an answer.
“I did not believe anyone else could do the ***ob I had to do,” he said more quietly. “And so I stayed.”
She found her voice. “And if I hadn’t been there? Would you have let our mother die alone?”
“I would have brought her to Chialto and had her cared for here. Or I would have installed someone at the house who answered to me night and day. It is because you were with her that I could take up my tasks here. It is not that I abandoned you. It is that I had faith in you.”
“I needed you,” she whispered. “And you weren’t there.”
He watched her for a long moment, nothing to be read behind his set expression. Darien never believed he was in the wrong, so she waited bitterly for him to refuse to apologize now. But his voice, when he spoke, was softer than she expected. “Faced with the same situation today, I would make the same choice,” he said. “But I am sorry your burden was so crushing. And I am sorry that you are still so angry at me. I had hoped we could find a way to close some of the distance that has grown up between us.”
She would not let herself even think about crying. “Your life has taken you far from me. I think some of that distance is inevitable.”
He nodded. “It’s true. I cannot easily leave the city, because so many threads tie me in place. Which is why I wish you would come here. I cannot come to you and I miss you.”
Her lips parted. That she had not expected—that Darien would resort to vulnerability. She had no defense against it. She could resist pressure all day long, leaning stubbornly against it with her own intransigence, but take away the opposing force and she stumbled forward, absolutely powerless.
“I’m no different than I ever was,” she managed.
He smiled and held his hand out to her. “Really?” he said. “I am as hunti as you are, and even I have changed. Surely you have as well.”
“I don’t want to stay in Chialto,” she said, but she laid her hand in his anyway. His fingers closed over hers, warm and reassuring.
“I can’t make you,” he said.
She choked on a laugh. “You make people do things all the time!”
He smiled back. “Not when I don’t want them to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Then will you stay?”
She looked at him helplessly. “How long?”
“A quintile? Maybe to the end of Quinnatorz? Of course, if you can’t bear it, you can always leave sooner.”
It was a hollow reassurance; he knew that she would honor any promise she made. If she said she would stay for a quintile, she would not leave a day sooner. “What will I do while I’m here?”
“Meet foreign princes?”
“I mean really.”
He stood up, tugging her to her feet before he dropped her hand. “***ust see where the days take you,” he said. “It might be more interesting than you think.”