Read Too Many Princes Online

Authors: Deby Fredericks

Too Many Princes (21 page)

A PASSING OF POWER

 


Where are you going?

came Cliodora's indignant demand.

Therula smiled at her younger sister.

I just need to see Father for a moment.


But we were supposed to go riding!

Clodora followed Therula, dancing with agitation.

You said we can gather shells at the seaside, and see the galleys go by.


We will,

Therula answered.

The two princesses crossed the great court and passed bowing guardsmen at the gate to the inner keep. They were both dressed for riding, in simple gowns with divided skirts and warm cloaks against the sea wind. The excursion included some half dozen of Unferth's youngest daughters—Cliodora, Frella, Leoda, Alista, Agiatta and Orlyse—plus guards and grooms to help Therula keep a rein on the younger ones.


You promised,

Cliodora grumbled.


I did promise, and I meant it.

Therula did her best not to be annoyed by her little sister's fixation.

Cliodora had been reminding her about the promised outing all week. In truth, Therula looked forward to it. She liked spending time with her sisters, and it would take her mind off her worries. She couldn't have known Eben's message would reach her just before their departure.

The two princesses were inside the keep now. Soft steps echoed off stone walls as they approached Unferth's door.


Is my father in?

Therula asked as the guard bowed to them.


I believe so, Princess,

the guard replied.

He may still be sleeping. He hasn't called for his manservant yet.


Then you can come back later,

Cliodora said eagerly.

Come, sister, let's go.

Therula hesitated. She couldn't remember any court feasts or carousing that would have kept Unferth up late last night—but she did remember the bright sunshine in the courtyard outside. Even kings couldn't lie abed all day long. It set a bad example.

She set her hand on the latch.

I'll just look in,

Therula said.

If Father is asleep, I'll be right back out.

The guard didn't try to stop her, though Cliodora gave a dramatic, impatient moan before dragging her feet in after Therula.


Father?

Therula called softly. She let Cliodora enter, then closed the door behind them.

It's Therula. Are you awake?

The room was very dark. Cautiously, Therula made her way to the narrow window, where heavy drapes were tightly drawn to shut out the day. She stubbed her toe only once in progress.


He's not awake,

Cliodora complained from the shadows near the door.

Can we go now?


I have news, Father,

Therula went on, ignoring her.

Eben found Pikarus. He's with Brastigan and Lottres in a town called Rowbeck. They're doing just fine. I know it's silly, but I can't help worrying about them. I'm so glad to know they're all right, aren't you?

As she spoke, Therula pulled on the edge of the drapes. The rich fabric slid aside, admitting a shaft of light that cut through the gloom like a sword blade. It fell across the bed, where Unferth lay on his side. A green bottle glinted on the bedside table, liquid like a shadow within it. The king's face was pale against the darkness, his expression serene.


You're being rude, Therula,

Cliodora scolded,

talking to Father when he just wants to sleep.

Therula stared at Unferth, wondering why he didn't blink against the bright light. She felt a sudden chill of fear.


Father?

Therula called more loudly. He didn't respond.

Therula's knees didn't want to move, but she forced herself to walk the few steps to the bedside. She could see, as she drew closer, that her father's eyes were partly open. They glinted dully, and he wasn't breathing.


Fa... Father?

she stammered.

Therula reached out, hesitated, and drew back. Then she forced herself to touch him. Unferth's cheek was dry and cool. Even his hair felt stiff under her fingers. Therula jerked her hand away. She took a step backward, rubbing her two hands together in a vain effort to warm them.

Unferth was dead. She didn't understand how this could have happened. His calm expression gave no hint of pain or fear. He must have died in his sleep. Therula turned away with a choked cry, trying to shut out the sight. How could he look so peaceful when something terrible had happened!


Sister, what's wrong?

Cliodora's voice at Therula's side startled her. Then the younger one was staring, too, transfixed by the sight of their father's calm, dead face. Cliodora's blue eyes were pale as glass in the dim light.


Go get my mother,

Therula said quietly. Panic churned in her stomach, until she felt she would vomit it out. She had no idea what to do. Alustra would know. Therula felt sure of that.


I...

Cliodora backed away, still staring at Unferth with her hands pressed to her mouth.

Therula grabbed Cliodora's shoulders. It wasn't fair, she knew, but she was glad to have someone to yell at.


The queen,

Therula insisted fiercely.

Go quickly, go quietly. Tell no one else, but bring my mother here. She deserves to know first.

Cliodora nodded and stood up straight. A measure of clarity returned to her eyes as the effect of this simple, important duty took hold. She whispered,

You can count on me.

The younger princess left, walking with her arms held stiffly to her sides and her hands clenched into little white fists.

Therula returned to the window. Defiantly, she flung the curtains wide. It seemed wrong to admit the pitiless light, and yet she couldn't bear to be alone in the silence and gloom.

The waiting seemed endless, an agony of her own fears magnified by the terrible stillness. Finally, the door flung open from the outside. Therula turned, longing to rush into her mother's arms. She stopped before she had even lifted a foot.


Oskar?

she choked.

Her brother ignored her. He strode into the chamber, leaving the door open. Therula could see the guard looking in, his mouth agape. Oskar went to the bedside and bent over the dead man, his expression as stunned as Therula's must have been.


So it's true.

Oskar spoke softly, almost to himself.

I didn't want to believe it.

Therula watched, too numb to move. How could Cliodora have told Oskar, after Therula ordered her not to tell anyone except Alustra? But she was too stunned to feel the rage she should have.

Oskar looked up, then. He seemed surprised, as if he hadn't known Therula was there. Then he said,

Sister, dear, you're shaking.

He was right. Therula was trembling, and she couldn't seem to stop. Oskar crossed the room and reached to embrace her, but she jerked away. She wanted her mother, and she didn't want anyone else to touch her.


I was... I was waiting for Mother,

Therula mumbled.

Oskar frowned, but he let his hands fall to his sides.

You found him? Oh, dear.


I'm fine,

Therula lied. With a conscious effort she straightened, folding her hands before her to keep them still.


You are a strong woman,

Oskar said. Carefully, moving slowly, he reached out to squeeze her two hands.

I will need your support, my sister. You and Mother are all I have now. I know I can depend on you.

Therula nodded with a jerk, though she was feeling the opposite of strong. She watched as Oskar returned to the bedside. He knelt there, head bowed, in a classic pose of grief, yet he shed no tears. Instead, he posed for the audience, making sure everyone saw him as a loyal, grieving son.

And his words,

I can depend on you.

As king to subject, he meant. Therula looked out the window again. She was ashamed of her disloyal thoughts. Oskar was her brother. Even so, she had the feeling his grief was just that, a pose. She wondered who he posed for.

Therula blinked away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. She forced herself to view her brother dispassionately, as an outsider would. Oskar wasn't a living image of Unferth. He favored their mother too much. Yet he did look like a king, she thought with a start. In fact, he was a king. Oskar was the heir. With Unferth dead, he was king already.

She couldn't believe it, couldn't imagine anyone but her father sitting on Crutham's throne. Oskar would, of course. It was what he had been waiting for. All his life, waiting for the chance to rule Crutham and justify their mother's many humiliations.

Therula looked out the window again, trying to hold back the tears that blurred her vision. She turned with a start at the sound of rapid footsteps. This time Alustra did enter the room. It was the first time Therula had ever seen her regal mother run. Alustra's cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes wide with shock. Two attendants came behind her, and Cliodora last of all.

Alustra rushed to the bedside, where Oskar rose to greet her.


Mother,

he said mournfully.

Therula's knees wobbled with relief as she went to join them. Alustra was here now. She was in charge, and everything would be all right. But she was not to experience the comfort of her mother's embrace. Alustra kissed Oskar's cheek briefly, but her eyes never left the bed. She moved past him, ignoring Therula, and sank down on the soft coverlet. Alustra reached out slowly, just as Therula had done, and brushed Unferth's forehead. Therula heard her mother sigh, saw her shoulders bowed as she bent forward to kiss her husband's cold forehead.

Margura, one of Alustra's attendants, now stepped forward. She sank in a low curtsey.

Your majesty, is there anything I can do?

Her voice was husky, kind and thoughtful, yet Therula realized Margura wasn't speaking to Alustra. She was looking at Oskar. And he was smiling back at her.


Leave me for a time,

Alustra answered, for she didn't see them behind her.

Return to my chambers, and see that suitable raiment is prepared.


Yes, my lady.

Margura curtseyed again, and followed the other young woman out. Cliodora, left alone, drifted uncertainly toward Therula. Abandoning pretense, Therula embraced her little sister tightly, let her sob on her shoulder.


We were to have gone riding with our sisters, Mother.

Therula managed to speak, though her throat felt tight and hard.

They are waiting at the stables. I'll go tell them what's happened.


That is well thought of,

Oskar added smoothly.

I will summon our brothers and do the same. If that is what you want, Mother?


Yes,

Alustra said. Her voice was as calm as Unferth's dead face.

Now, leave me.

Oskar went first. Therula made sure to close the door behind them, though the guard was no longer staring. She patted Cliodora's shoulders soothingly, but her eyes followed her brother as he strode away from them.

Oskar wasn't married, though he had been once. His wife, the delicate Cyrille of Erlixen, had died in childbed, taking their son with her. Oskar hadn't remarried, despite Alustra's best efforts. Therula had the impression that Oskar hadn't liked being married, having to share his quarters and answer to another. Cyrille had been one of the most docile creatures Therula had ever known, and she couldn't imagine what restrictions the girl might have placed on Oskar.

Whatever the reason, Oskar was an eligible king who lacked an heir. Besides their brothers, of course, but Therula knew very well he wouldn't settle for that. No, Oskar would be looking for a wife, and there were plenty of women willing to take that part. Margura was only the first. Crutham Keep was going to be a circus until Oskar chose a wife. Just thinking of it gave Therula a headache.

The two princesses left the inner keep and made for the stables. Therula walked slowly and let Cliodora cry. As they went, wellborn and servants alike passed them, running the other way. All the court was learning that Unferth had died. They were all in a hurry to speak to Oskar, Therula thought bitterly, wanting to keep their positions or even improve on them.

Meanwhile, she couldn't think what she could say to their sisters.

Father is dead

was truthful, yet it seemed so harsh. Perhaps she could start with something like

I have some bad news,

or

I'm sorry to tell you...

Cliodora stopped crying long enough to sniffle out,

We aren't going to go riding today, are we?

Therula laughed sadly at the lesser loss among greater tragedies.

I'm afraid not, little sister. Oh, but I do wish I had listened to you.

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