The Diplomat (17 page)

“Sometimes we must lay down in darkness if we hope to see the dawn,” said Rema, her voice soft. “But you won’t be alone, Elsie.”

Elise tugged her hand free, leapt to her feet and hurried from the room. Talitha jumped in her seat as Elise slammed the door behind her.

“Well!” Talitha said. “That was unexpected. Did you intend to scare her away with that story? Were you trying to persuade her by clutching her hand like that? Your manner of diplomacy is very odd.”

“Talitha, please do this terrible thing.” Rema closed her eyes for several seconds, searching for comfort in the blindness. It was as if all her unhappiest years were pressing upon her heart at once. “Tell your husband that you accept my conditions, and do so before Calan can destroy untold lives.”

“I was expecting her to talk me out of it.” Talitha stared in disbelief at the empty chair. “That was why I asked her here. I don’t want to be persuaded, damn you. Yet Yorin has been at me day and night, and now Calan is causing trouble. If Elise won’t stand up for herself, what am I supposed to do?”

“You know there’s no choice. I think Elise has just indicated that she knows it too.”

Talitha bowed her head. “Please leave me. I have to reflect.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.” As Rema departed, she glanced back. Talitha sat hunched, her eyes sightless and her mouth compressed to a tight line. As quietly as she could, Rema shut the door.

Chapter Twelve

Rema took a seat in the front court. Peasants trudged past her, their faces smudged with dirt, their nails ragged and their backs bent from labor. Few things were as despicable as feudalism. Even Ormun, who had reinstated the slavery laws Rema had fought so hard to abolish, made no pretense to rule by divine blood. Not like here, where the serfs beyond the city walls were doomed to menial toil while the aristocracy elevated their sons to greatness and damned their daughters to forced matrimony.

In Arann, Elise could have lived and loved as she willed, and the great city would never have paused in judgment. She and Rema could have been lovers, perhaps even living together in Rema’s mansion by the sea. It was impossible not to envision returning home to find Elise waiting in the front archway, her eyes heated with a consort’s welcome, her lips relaxed in a smile, the seductive curves of her body silhouetted beneath loose silk…It was madness, yet Rema could think of no way to escape it.

She needed to clear her head. She followed the winding corridors to the gardens. Trembling crystals of dew hung on the grass and leaves, and as she walked through the hedges, a bird gave a shrill cry. Rema passed by a row of short trees, running her fingertips over gnarled patches of bark, and stopped at an elaborate bed of flowers near the furthest wall. She inhaled the elusive scent of the petals, tasted the thick aroma of damp soil. A butterfly perched on her nose, tickling her with its wings, and she laughed. It was as her father had told her: the sun knew when to rise.

A dry rustle rasped nearby, as of several sticks being broken at once. Rema looked up to see a tall figure slip through a weave of trees and into the dark grove. Though the tall figure had moved quickly, it had appeared to be one of the Narandane, perhaps one of Domyr’s servants—if not Domyr himself. Her curiosity piqued, Rema entered the trees. The foliage hung heavy with moisture, and as she walked, the soil sunk beneath her step and wet leaves clung to her boots. She stood in the middle of the grove but saw no one.

“Hello?” she said. “I only want to talk.”

A freezing pain pierced her chest, as if somebody had touched ice to her skin. Instinctively she reached for the sensation: Elise’s pendant, now colder than any frost. She stepped forward, propelled by fear, and a line of pain scorched her back. Overwhelming nausea crumpled her knees, and she dropped to the mud, landing on her hands. As a disorienting mist tugged at her sight, she twisted her head. One of the Narandane servants stood behind her, holding a short sword. Its end was stained with blood.

The nausea intensified, and a tremendous sucking sound filled her ears as darkness flooded her vision. The Narandane stepped forward and raised his sword. Just as he seemed about to strike, an impossible creature radiated into being, an angel of countless colors, and collided with him. It was too much to comprehend. Nothing existed but the mud beneath her hands, the churning sickness in her stomach and the line of agony drawn across her back.

“Rema,” said a voice somewhere in the fog. Loric. Sweet, kind Loric.

“She’s hurt,” said another voice. Muhan. Strange old Muhan. “Help her. I have my hands full.”

Hands gripped Rema beneath her arms, and her body swayed. Her back throbbed—no, her coat! Could it be ruined? Gods, not her coat…She opened her mouth to speak, but only managed a groan. Ashamed, she decided never to open her mouth again. She focused instead on breathing, which was something that still seemed to make sense. If she breathed slowly and yielded to the dizziness, even the pain seemed to slip away.

The fractured darkness clung to her for some time, tormenting her with agonies and half-thoughts, until a hand touched her cheek and brought her back to the world. She opened her eyes and struggled to understand where she was—nothing but shapes and blurred outlines. “It was the Narandane,” she said, determined that the world know her attacker. “He ruined my coat.”

“Hush, sweetheart,” said Elise. “We know. Lor, get me the box from that high shelf. Rema, drink this. It’ll clear your head.” A sweet liquid touched Rema’s lips. She sipped, and warmth spread through her body. “There, doesn’t that feel better?”

Rema nodded, and Elise took the flask away. “I have to get to the wound now. Be brave, dearest. This will sting.”

Suddenly the jumble of impressions before Rema made sense. She was lying on Elise’s bed, turned awkwardly on her side, with a cool pillow beneath her head. Loric was fumbling through the mess in the corner, and Elise was sitting at Rema’s side, her face gentle with concern. “Elsie,” said Rema. “I’m sorry.”

“Hush now.” Elise leaned forward, and the loose strands of her dark hair tickled Rema’s nose and face. Elise began undoing the buttons of her coat, and Rema shifted her torso to make the task easier. Every movement brought pain, but she was determined to help, and soon she was free of the coat. She raised her arms, allowing her undershirt to be pulled over her head. The fabric was plastered to her back, and Rema bit her tongue as it peeled away from her skin. Her back burned, and she inhaled deeply, struggling to stay conscious.

“Loric, hurry up with that box and then give her some privacy.”

“Will she be okay?” said Loric, his eyes averted.

“I believe so. Don’t worry. Just go keep an eye on things downstairs.” Elise gently took hold of Rema’s waist. “I’m going to lift you up now, sweetheart. It shouldn’t hurt too much.” Rema cooperated as Elise moved her upright. A torrent of dizziness struck her, but she breathed her way through it.

“Elsie…” There was a mirror opposite the bed, and Rema winced as she caught her reflection. Thick beads of moisture glistened across her sharp features, and her bare torso was similarly sheened with sweat. Elise’s pendant still rested against her collarbone, and Rema touched it lightly with her finger. It no longer burned.

“I’m going to clean this wound now.” Elise climbed onto the bed and crawled behind Rema. “I’ll make it hurt as little as I can.”

“Thank you.” Was it possible that this weak voice was her own?

“Hold your breath.” Something stung her back and wiped across her skin. Despite the pain, it left her feeling cleaner. Elise put the soiled cloth aside, took a little bottle from her medicine box and unscrewed the lid. “This is for the pain.” Her fingers traced the wound, spreading an ointment that left Rema’s skin numb. “Oh, Rema, you poor thing.”

“Is it bad?”

“It was a glancing blow, and the wound is shallow. You’ll feel very queasy, but no harm is done.”

“I took a step forward as he struck.” Rema gripped the black stone at her neck. “I felt the pendant you gave me, and I moved. If I hadn’t…”

She watched in the mirror as Elise tipped clear fluid onto a fresh cloth. “This is to prevent the wound from fouling.” Rema’s back was so numbed that she barely felt the pressure of the cloth. “I’m glad the pendant helped you, Rema, but…”

Why had she fallen silent? “What’s wrong?”

“This is my fault.” Elise’s voice shook. “This happened because of me.”

Rema tried to turn, but Elise stopped her. “Elsie, how could it be your fault?”

“I know what that man was.” Elise began to rub another cream on Rema’s back. “We’ll all know soon. He was a Lyornan spy.”

“How do you…”

“Because I’m a traitor. When we learned that an imperial diplomat was coming, I let Lyorn know too. I was afraid and angry, and I didn’t trust that my mother would protect me forever. So I acted stupidly, treasonously. Imagine my horror when instead of some loathsome diplomat, they sent you. Every day you’ve been here, I’ve been terrified that this might happen.”

Rema shifted to face her. She was sitting cross-legged, her hair pooled on the bed behind her, and her face was puckered with misery. “Look at me,” Rema said, and Elise looked up, her eyelashes glistening with tears.

“If anyone finds out, it’s the end of me. I’ll be sent to Ormun if I’m lucky. Calan would want me executed.” A tear slipped down Elise’s cheek. “But I don’t care about that. I’m crying because I’ve lost every chance of making you love me.”

“You don’t know how I feel.” Rema touched Elise’s damp face with the back of her hand. “I know I’ve seemed cold at times, but that’s because I’m a diplomat. My manner and my feelings are rarely allowed to coincide.”

Elise glanced down at Rema’s bared breasts, and a blush warmed on her cheeks as she quickly looked up again. “I tried so hard to hate you this morning. I thought of how you let Calan insult me in front of everyone, and I remembered the way you turned your back on me after our dinner. But when you told me your story and recited that poem, I understood why you’d done those things to me. I saw the secret in your eyes and heard the whisper between your verse, and I knew that you were sorry.”

“I am sorry. More than even poetry can express.”

“There are two things I now know for certain. I can’t escape this marriage, and I’m in love with you. I can’t fight either. I’m doomed, and you’ve doomed me.”

“Love is a strong word. You don’t know me.”

“Love is a feeling. It’s not about knowing. This is one enchantment I can’t break, and I’m glad. I want to live beneath your spell, even if it destroys me. You’re my disaster, my damnation…my diplomat.”

The compassion in Rema’s chest blazed into something deeper. Gods help them both. She touched Elise’s face, traced the curve of her cheekbone and stroked the smooth skin beneath her ear. Elise began to breathe quickly, her lips open with anticipation, and Rema leaned in to grant their wish.

Before their mouths could meet, a heavy knock shook the door. Elise leapt to her feet, her eyes blazing. “Who is it?”

“It’s Calan.” The satisfaction in his voice was audible even through the door. “I’m coming in.”

Rema grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her chest. The door opened, and Calan ducked beneath the frame. He glanced at Elise before giving Rema’s bare shoulders a lingering examination. “How’s our little ambassador?”

“She’ll live.” Elise smoothed the front of her dress and flicked her hair from her face. “What are you doing here, Calan? You’re getting in my way.”

“Don’t be so quick to chase me off. Remela is surely curious to know more about her assailant, don’t you think?” Calan looked around the room and laughed. “I was going to sit, but there’s nowhere to in this mess. You not only have the figure of a pig, sister, but you live like one.”

“Get on with it. I have to tend to her.”

Calan licked his lips. “So be it. Her attacker is one of the Narandane servants. I asked Domyr about it, and he insisted he knew nothing about the man. He’d employed him back in Narandor, had asked no questions about his background, and has no issue with us meting out judgment however we please. He also passed on his well-wishes to the victim.”

“I’m sure you don’t believe any of that,” said Rema.

“Of course not. So I spent some time with our would-be assassin. I asked the usual questions. Who had employed him? Why had he tried to kill an imperial diplomat? How did he even know that an imperial diplomat was here? He was very sullen at first.” Calan’s lips moved in a thin smile. “Then I found ways to persuade him.”

“Bannon.” Rema clutched the pillow tighter. “You tortured him.”

“You’ve met my pale-eyed friend, have you?” Calan chuckled. “To get to the point, our assassin was working for Lyorn. They’ve learned about the Emperor’s offer, and they reasoned that if his diplomat died under our protection, it would both disrupt the negotiations and reflect poorly on Danosha. The Emperor would certainly be reluctant to send any more diplomats.”

“Did this man implicate Domyr? Or anyone else?”

“Domyr is surely complicit, but the prisoner hasn’t admitted it yet. What I’m interested to know is how he learned that we had a diplomat coming. These Narandane arrived only the day after you, so it was clear they knew exactly when you were arriving. But nobody’s seen the Emperor’s letter except Yorin and our family.”

His implication was obvious, and Rema swallowed hard. “What about the servants?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Calan picked a plant from the wall and began to pull it apart. “Servants can’t read. No, I’m sure the truth is far more interesting, and I’m very eager to learn more. Little sister, you’re very quiet.”

“Rema needs her rest,” Elise said, her voice calm. “Why don’t you go back to your sick interrogation? And damn you, leave my herbs alone.”

Calan tossed the mangled plant to the floor. “She’s a lucky thing, that Rema. If Loric and the foreigner hadn’t been taking breakfast in the gardens, she’d be in ribbons.” He stepped forward. “I’m curious to see this wound of yours.”

Squeezing the cushion close to her chest, Rema wriggled backward. Elise stepped between them. “Get the hell away from her!” she said, her voice wild with fury. “Take your leering eyes with you. She’s not a spectacle for you to gape at.”