Page 48 of The Ragpicker King
“You’re serious?” she whispered.
His expression did not change, and Lin did not notice his hands. They had clenched at his sides into white-knuckled fists.
His gray eyes were cool and distant. “You have not seen me for the past three months. I have become a far more serious person.”
He is really doing this,she thought, incredulous. But why had she thought he wouldn’t? In the end, he would always do as he liked.
In a dry voice she said: “You are telling me I must defy one of my Princes.”
“So it seems. Obviously, I would rather it not be me. Now fetch your medicines, and I will take you to your patient. We have not much time.”
Within seconds, Kel found himself seated, facing Anjelica. He gripped the sides of the woven basket as the elephant rose and they sailed together up into the air.
There was a great deal of yelling as the Arrow Squadron tried to circle around to follow the elephant, which had already started upthe harbor path toward the city. The animal moved at a slow, stately pace, flanked on either side by the Bloodguard. The roar of the crowds rose; the slips between the wharves were full of flowers, floating on the surface of the tide.
Now,Kel thought,I am Conor. Now I am the Prince, greeting my bride. Kel might wish to be kind, but Conor needs to be gracious. Gracious and clever. Kindness is not a part of politics, and this is a political alliance.
Across the basket, Anjelica Iruvai regarded him through wide dark eyes. Kel inclined his head. “Be welcome to Castellane,” he said. “I am glad to see you arrived safely.”
“Yes, thank you,Ufalme.” The word for “Prince” in Kutani.
Her voice was soft and distant; she was even more beautiful up close. Her lids were painted with gold powder, her high cheekbones dusted with it. She had slender arms ringed with bracelets of copper and bronze; her hands were folded tightly in her lap. Kel, used to reading body language, could tell that the tension had not left her, though the harbor was rapidly receding in the distance.
He pitched his voice low. “Ayakemi.”
Princess.
A flash of gold. She was looking at him in surprise; she had not expected him to know any Kutani. It was a complex language, having developed out of the lingua franca of spice traders. Indeed, Kel had struggled to learn even a little of it.
“Someone has taught you how to speak properly,” she said. “I am all amazement.”
Kel grinned. Perhaps she was insulting him, or Conor; he didn’t mind. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, and he was rather enjoying being on top of an elephant with her. As they turned onto the Ruta Magna and approached the thick of the crowd, he thought:They will not be disappointed. They cannot fail to love her.
So different from the arrival of poor Luisa, which had been a scandal. A shaming. Not so now.
“You are smiling,” she said. Her Castellani was perfect, accentless. “What has pleased you?”
The crowd that lined the streets was roaring ecstatically. Roaring and hurling yellow roses and chrysanthemums. Some fell into the basket, scattering yellow petals.
“The people of the city love you,” he said. “That is a good thing. Castellane was holding its breath, waiting to see its next Queen. They are relieved that you are beautiful.”
Anjelica did not change expression, only regarded the wild crowds lining the streets with solemn gravity. The air was full of thrown blossoms; many had fetched up on balconies or tangled themselves in existing trellises. “That should not matter.”
“It does, to them,” said Kel. “Your elephant seems to know where he is going. Has he visited Castellane before? Avid sightseer, perhaps?”
“Sheis indeed clever. Her name is Sedai. She was a gift to me from a Prince of Hind.” She reached to stroke Sedai’s back. “She follows the Bloodguard. They know the way well enough. We have maps, you know, in Kutani.”
They were passing the closed doors of the Sault. Kel thought of Lin’s Ashkar prayer:How shall we sing our Lady’s songs in a strange land?Anjelica, too, was a stranger here, in the place she had come to rule.
“Ufalme.” Anjelica held a small woven box. In it was an arrangement of nuts lacquered with sugar. She took one and popped it into her mouth, then offered the box to him. “There are those who say Conor Darash Aurelian carries ill fortune with him,” she said, looking at him from beneath her lashes. “That he was glad when the little girl from Sarthe died, for Sarthe had shamed him by sending her.”
Kel blinked. What she had said was not rude precisely, but it was unusual for royals to be so direct. He bit into a nut to buy himself an extra moment.
Then he swallowed and said, “Luisa did not die of bad luck.” Why not match frankness with frankness? “She died because someone wished to cause war between us and Sarthe, and they may stillsucceed. I mourn the Princess’s death, for her own sake as well as for the sake of Castellane.”
Her eyes were fixed on his face. “Spoken like a clever Prince,” she said. “But you are not the Prince, are you?” She studied him as if he were an interesting puzzle to be solved. “Conor Aurelian cannot tolerate walnuts. They make him sick. But you appear to be suffering no ill effects.”
Kel felt the shock like a dull blow. She had offered him a walnut, and he had not remembered to refuse it. How could he, after his years of training, have made such a tremendous mistake?
