Page 93 of The Ragpicker King
“Gracious,” said Mariam. “You are in a bad mood, aren’t you? You hate pageantry, princesses,andphoenixes. Is it just the letterP?”
“Mariam—”
“Youareglad the Prince is getting married, aren’t you?” Mariam asked archly.
“Of course,” Lin said through her teeth. “Oh, look, there’s Mayesh. He’s waving to us.”
Indeed, her grandfather had appeared at the foot of the Temple steps and was gesturing to Lin. She pushed her way through the crowd, pulling Mariam with her, until they reached the perimeter of the Castelguards encircling the Temple. Lin nodded at Benaset, who stepped aside to let her and Mariam through with a sour look.
The Windtower Clock began to strike noon as Lin and Mariam joined Mayesh. Lin glanced around but saw no royal carriage that might be searching for her. She could hear Mariam chattering excitedly to her grandfather, who was nodding along with a faint look of amusement. He had always liked Mariam.
Before Lin could greet Mayesh herself, the high marble doors ground open, dragged along their grooves by acolytes in white Temple robes. The great doorway to the Temple loomed before them, black as a tomb.
The Hierophant emerged from the shadows first. He wore the green-gray of Aigon’s clerics, and a long cloak, woven with a pattern of waves, cascading down his back. His head was bare, his hair thick and gray. In one hand he held a silver staff, topped with an orb of Sunderglass. Smoke seemed to move inside the orb, puffs of white and gray appearing and disappearing within the vitreous circle.
He began to walk down the marble steps, head high, unsmiling. The crowd was nearly silent. After him came members of the Charter Families, each carrying a banner representing the sigil of their House. First was Ciprian Cabrol, carrying the madder flower banner of the dye Charter. Then Gasquet and Montfaucon, Esteve and Uzec, Falconet and Cazalet. The Gremont banner, with its coronet of tea leaves, was carried by an elderly woman in black withsteel-gray hair and an even steelier expression. Lady Gremont, Lin guessed. As for the Alleynes, a servant in livery held the silk banner. Lin wondered what Lady Alleyne’s excuse was for not attending.
After the Charter Families came Queen Lilibet, all in green as was her habit, her hair dressed high with emeralds. It was strange to see her at such an event alone, without the King, even for someone who knew, as Lin did, why he was absent.
All save the Hierophant stationed themselves up and down the stairs, leaving the center clear to form a sort of aisle. The square fell silent, a breathless hush, the only sound the footfalls of the Hierophant as he ascended the dais and turned to face the Temple.
Lin felt a hand on her shoulder. Mayesh. It was a calming touch, as if he were worried for her—but why would he be worried? She turned to him with a puzzled expression just as they came out of the doors together.
Conor and his bride-to-be. Not hand in hand, but their shoulders nearly brushing. Whispers rose, scattering the silence.So beautiful.
Lin did not know what she had imagined of Anjelica Iruvai, or what it might mean to be rumored the most beautiful woman in the world. She had pictured the sort of curves that seemed the standard of desirability, the kind possessed by Antonetta. Red lips and cheeks, wide eyes. She was almost ashamed at the paucity of her imagination now. She had not pictured Anjelica’s poise and lightness, the way every part of her seemed to come together by design, like one of Mariam’s exquisite dresses.
She and Conor were both dressed formally, he in a dark-gray velvet doublet and trousers, embroidered with silver silk, she in a deep-violet gown with a train that fanned out behind her on the steps.
Mariam gasped softly. “Tyndaris purple.”
During the time of the Empire, the deep-purple dye had been extracted from the shells of sea creatures that had thrived on Tyndaris before the island drowned beneath the waves. They wereextinct now, and the only cloth of that color was the property of House Aurelian. When a new member of the royal family was born, a bolt was cut for them, to be used throughout their life. When Lilibet had married Markus, she had been given her own bolt; now, it seemed, Anjelica had, too.
Beside Anjelica, the Prince walked with his head held high. A tooled-leather belt circled his lean hips, a ceremonial sword gleaming in a scabbard at his side. His black curls tumbled over the gold circlet binding his forehead. His expression was set, shadowed. He seemed braced, as if for an ordeal.
As they reached the foot of the steps, the crowd’s murmurs rose: how beautiful Anjelica was, how good this would be for the city, what handsome children they would have.
Anjelica’s beauty had won them over, Lin thought with a pang, without a word or gesture needed. Beauty had that power. Even in the Story-Spinner tales in which Conor was a murderer or a tyrant or a coldhearted lonely king, he was a handsome murderer or tyrant. Beauty imbued every action with a sort of glamour and made it easy to forgive.
Conor reached out a hand to help Anjelica onto the dais beside him. The two of them faced the Hierophant. They were so close that Lin could not help but wonder if Conor could see her, too, standing beside Mayesh. But if he did, he gave no sign.
“Oh, Lin,” Mariam breathed. “This is soexciting.”
There was a sudden stir among the Castelguards as the Hierophant began to chant the blessings of Aigon. Mayesh’s hand dropped from Lin’s shoulder; she glanced over and saw Aron Benjudah, the Exilarch, in conversation with one of the Castelguards. To her surprise, the Castelguard, who seemed to be listening close, stepped aside to let Aron into the protected area.
She stared at Aron as he came closer. Here was neither the Rhadanite trader, dirty from the road, nor the solemnly robed Exilarch meting out justice in the Kathot. Aron wore a high-necked black jacket figured with silver, and at his waist was buckled a sword whosehilt was made of black metal and carved in the shape of a raven whose outspread wings made the cross guard. In its center was set a scarlet stone, red as the setting sun. Lin knew it immediately—any Ashkar would. It was the weapon that the Goddess had given to Judah Makabi after the fall of Aram.All Exilarchs from that day forth would be descended from Makabi, and would carry the name Benjudah and the Evening Sword, the gift of the Goddess.
The Evening Sword. Lin had never thought to see it. It was a legend, like phoenixes or dragons. She could not help but look at it as Aron came to stand in front of Mayesh. The sword had been a part of Ashkar history for as long as there had been Ashkar. A history that stretched not just into the past but also forward into the future. A tale she had inserted herself into without thought for the consequences.
Mayesh inclined his head, as if he’d expected to meet the Exilarch here. “Aron,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“I thought to congratulate the Counselor to the throne,” said Aron with only a glance at Lin. Mariam, who was staring at him wide-eyed, he ignored completely. “This clever alliance between Kutani and Castellane, how much of it was your doing?”
“Some of it,” said Mayesh. “As you know, an adviser only has the influence he has earned.”
“And you have worked hard to earn the trust of these people, thesemalbushim,” said Aron. “I recall, I think, you advising me some years ago. I do not believe I took your advice.”
Mariam glanced at Lin as if to silently say:What’s going on?Lin just shook her head slightly. She could not have described the look on Aron’s face. Not angry exactly, but something colder and harder than that.
