Kingdom of Ruses Page 15

  The magic she drew from the well was a deep wine-color, and its aromatic flavor was sweetly divine. They filled both flasks and when they were ready to leave, Viola paused to offer her thanks to the well, for she could only see it as a living creature now. A smile played about the Prince’s mouth as she turned back to him.

  “What?” she asked self-consciously.

  “It already knows you’re grateful,” he replied.

  “Unspoken gratitude isn’t nearly enough,” said Viola with a sniff, and she passed him to walk up the trail. He was at her elbow soon enough, strolling alongside her with a silly grin on his face. “Stop that,” she said uncomfortably.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop laughing at me.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I never laughed.”

  “You want to,” she accused with narrowed eyes.

  “Oh, you can read my mind now? I knew we were becoming closer.” He put his arm around her shoulders, and she instinctively shrugged him off.

  “Charlie’s going to be surprised about the magic,” she said to change the subject, but then she stopped dead in her tracks as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Does he need to make an offering to the well like I did?” she asked.

  The Prince paused to turn quizzical golden eyes on her. “An offering…? No, of course not. You’ve already done that. He’s not the guardian—that is, the one who draws magic from the well. He could make an offering, of course, but he doesn’t have to. The well already has you to defend it against anyone who misuses its reserves. Which, by the way, if Charles or anyone else takes it into their heads to abuse the magic they receive, you have a duty to punish them, family or not.”

  Viola stared at him in surprise. “Charlie wouldn’t,” she said after a moment.

  “Yes, I know. You Morelands are astonishingly ethical, considering that your family has been secretly running the country and perpetuating an elaborate fraud for centuries. Just be careful about whom you give any magic to, all right?”

  “Of course,” she said primly. They reached the hedge door and she fumbled for her keys to unlock it.

  “I can hold one of those flasks for you,” the Prince offered.

  “You just told me to be careful about whom I gave any of this to,” she replied with a winning smile. He took umbrage at her words, as she had intended, but rather than sulk, he snatched her keys from her and opened the hedge door himself.

  On the other side, he muttered something under his breath about people who took warnings too literally. Then, he thrust the keys toward her. He waited for her to pocket them again before following her through the rose garden.

  “This place seems more vibrant than before too,” said Viola, who patently ignored his sulk.

  Pride in his own understanding drew him into the conversation. “Of course it does,” he replied. “The whole of Lenore benefits from a well-kept reservoir.”

  “I see,” she said.

  Beyond the rose garden lay more well-manicured grounds, and despite the stealth-spell they had cast before starting off on their venture, the pair still made their way across with caution. As they approached the last corner before the stairway to the Prime Minister’s apartments, Viola heard voices ahead. Fearlessly she rounded the corner to catch a glimpse of Lord Conrad and his wife standing further down the way. The pair was speaking with an unknown man and woman. They seemed to be showing the strangers around the gardens.

  From behind, the Prince suddenly clamped one hand around Viola’s mouth and the other around her waist and dragged her backward, back behind the wall again.

  “What are you…?” she began as he released her mouth, but he motioned her to silence and peeked intently around the corner.

  Viola’s eyes followed his gaze to the man and woman. “What is it?” she whispered.

  “We need to get back inside, right now,” he replied. “They’re turning away from us—now, make a run for the stairs!” He shoved her forward, and she bolted for the stairwell. Lord Conrad’s group had only been observing some feature in the opposite direction. As Viola and the Prince ducked behind the half-wall that hid the stairs from view, the foursome turned again and started back toward the Prime Minister’s home.

  “Up, up, now! Quietly!” the Prince hissed.

  Viola didn’t know why he cautioned her to be quiet, as their footsteps were already deadened by the stealth-spell. Still, she made her way up the stairs, crouching so as not to be seen—again, the stealth-spell should have taken care of that, but she wasn’t going to take any chances given how agitated he was. Just as they reached the top, the group of four came into sight near the base. The Prince had the door opened and shuffled Viola inside before she had a chance to say otherwise.

  He had her hand in his as he wove his way through her family’s home and to the staircase that led up to the Prince’s apartments. There was such an air of panic around him that Viola dared not protest. He dragged her up into the library and shut the panel behind them. Then, he clapped both his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eyes.

  “I need you to get your father,” he said.

  “What are you—”

  “Viola, please! Don’t ask questions! Just go!” His voice held the slightest tremor and his face had turned a ghastly shade of white. Viola didn’t have the heart to argue any further. Instead, she handed him the well’s bucket and the flasks they had collected, and she hurried from the room.

  “Be careful that you aren’t seen by those people!” he called after her. “If they’ve come inside—!”

  “I’ll be careful,” she called back. Half-panicked herself at such a strange play of events, she left the Prince’s quarters at a quick trot, oblivious to the many strange glances from the sentries that lined the halls. If her father was in a meeting, she didn’t know what to do, for the Prince’s request seemed to be of the utmost urgency. She prayed that he was not busy and kept her fingers crossed as she ran.

  Mr. Sterling sat at his usual place outside the Prime Minister’s office. “Is my father in?” asked Viola.

  “Yes, but he has a meeting that’s going to begin in another few minutes, so I suggest you hurry.”

  “Who with?”

  “Lord Conrad requested to introduce him to some visitors—”

  Mr. Sterling was not able to finish his sentence as Viola bolted past him and into her father’s office. The Prime Minister looked up from his desk. “Ah, Viola! What is it, dear? What has happened?”

  “The Eternal Prince requests your immediate presence, Father. He said it was urgent. I’ve never seen him quite like this.”

  Her father was already moving from behind his desk, taking his cue from the extreme stress that permeated Viola’s person. “Sterling, please give Lord Conrad my apologies and ask him to wait, if he would,” he said on his way out. “Something important has come up, and I must go sort it out immediately.”

  Viola scurried behind him. As they turned a corner, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see Lord Conrad and his guests enter the corridor from the other side. She immediately ducked her head and quickened her steps, hoping they had not seen her. If the Prince was afraid of them, then they had to be dangerous people indeed.

  “What is this about, Viola?” her father asked in an under-voice as they walked toward the Prince’s apartments.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s something to do with Lord Conrad’s guests. The Prince took one look at them and completely lost his composure. Honestly, Father, he went white as a sheet. Who are they?”

  “Conrad only said that he had some visitors coming to town for the midsummer festival,” her father replied irritably. “He never said anything else about them, except that they were old friends from his days in the military.”

  “Well, the Prince seems to be terrified. I never thought he was capable of falling to pieces like he has,” said Viola.

  Her father nodded curtly to the two sentries at the door as he passed. The Prince was paci
ng back and forth as he awaited their arrival in the library. He looked up at their entrance and said, “Thank you for coming, Prime Minister. Viola, I think you should go home and stay there for the remainder of the day.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked stiffly, offended at being so dismissed.

  “Viola, dear,” said her father quietly, “please. I’ll come and tell you what has happened, but for now indulge his whims.”

  Disgruntled, she turned on her heel to exit again.

  “Be careful you’re not seen!” called the Prince.

  “I’ll be careful!” she replied in a snit. The least he could do if he was going to run her ragged was let her stay and hear what all of the fuss was about. He was being secretive as always, though, and Viola could do nothing but obey his commands because there was obviously some danger, even if he didn’t feel like sharing what exactly it was.

  With haste she made her way back to her family’s apartments and locked herself in her room. Belatedly she recalled that her journal was still up in the Prince’s library, so she didn’t even have that to confide in. “Botheration,” she grumbled as she flopped onto her bed to wait.

  When her father returned home that night, hours later, his face looked very tired. Viola knew better than to prod him for information in front of the rest of the family. To her great surprise, he summoned her and her two brothers into his study before she had the opportunity to corner him on her own.

  “What’s going on?” Charles inquired as he shut the door behind Edmund and Viola. “You don’t look well, Father.”

  “I don’t feel well, either,” Nicholas Moreland replied. “It seems that Lord Conrad has invited guests to the midsummer festival—guests from Melanthos.”

  “Melanthos?” Viola echoed, alarmed.

  Her father nodded. “I met with them after speaking to the Prince. He knows the woman, it seems, and according to his accounts, she is very dangerous. I want you all to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. Conrad introduced the man as the governor of West Anrich—that’s a Melanthine principality that reaches to the mountains along our eastern border. The woman is his assistant, he claimed, but the Prince says she’s a sorceress, a magician like we four, but far more powerful and unscrupulous.”

  “Why would Lord Conrad bring dignitaries from Melanthos into Lenore?” asked Charles with a troubled furrow in his brow. “We are sheltered from the Empire here. Why would he take the risk of bringing their attention upon us?”

  Nicholas Moreland heaved a deep sigh, his eyes upon the floor. “I strongly suspect,” he said, “that Lord Conrad may be planning something along the lines of a coup d’état. Keep in mind,” he added as Charles and Viola both recoiled violently, “that he has been asking around for information on the Prince and on the magical reserves of Lenore. He has also been making alliances among the other palace lords and magistrates. Some of the more established members of Parliament have come to me in alarm. He holds more sway among the newer members, and among those who served under him when he was still a military commander.”

  “If only his brother were still alive,” Charles muttered. “When he died and the seat fell to the current Lord Conrad—”

  “The former Lord Conrad was not exactly a peace-loving man himself,” said the Prime Minister, “as you will no doubt recall. Besides that, I have no reason to believe that his death was natural—it had all the signs of poisoning, but there was never any proof, and the current Lord Conrad was stationed along the border when it occurred, so the crime would not lead back to him anyway.”

  Viola’s head had dropped into her hands. “What a mess this is. What are we to do, Father?”

  “We must appear to go about our business as usual, and in the meantime keep our guard up at all times. I want none of you to get into trouble. As the heirs apparent to the Prime Ministry, you may be in some danger. I think Lord Conrad seeks first of all to discredit me rather than stage a full military coup. He has his enemies as well, you know, and a scandal is much easier to orchestrate than a hostile takeover. I have spoken to our Prince, and he has sworn to give us the utmost support that is in his power. He wants nothing to do with the Melanthine woman, though, and we cannot banish her for fear of starting an international incident.”

  “How exactly does he know her?” Viola asked with an odd twinge of curiosity.

  Her father’s eyes flitted to the corner. “I am not at liberty to disclose that information,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you should ask him yourself if you really wish to know.”

  Viola was perfectly aware that she wouldn’t be able to do something like that. She exchanged glances with both her brothers and saw the same expression mirrored on their faces. They each respected the Prince, and they knew that he kept secrets enough. This was just another one. There was nothing any of them could do about it.

  Chapter 13: Intruders Are Most Unwelcome Here

  Two days have passed since Lord Conrad’s foreigners appeared, and I feel as though I am going to go mad with anxiety. The man, I have learned, is Governor Josef Negri, and the woman is called Natalia—no surname to speak of, just Natalia. Lord Conrad caught me on the way to the Prince’s quarters yesterday morning and introduced me to them. Natalia is quite beautiful, with black hair and black eyes, and her lips are such a bright crimson that I think she must wear some sort of cosmetic (which is generally frowned upon in Lenore, except for extremely formal occasions, but there’s no accounting for the behavior of foreigners). Her style of clothing seems uncomfortable to me—her dress yesterday had long sleeves, but the shoulders were cut out to expose her skin, and the neckline plunged just a touch too low. The glimpse I caught of her today showed much the same design. She always wears her hair piled upon her head, too, in an attractive style that exposes her long, beautiful neck.

  She is very beautiful, as I said, and I felt quite insignificant next to her. I couldn’t help but notice that she seemed to watch me very closely with those piercing black eyes, and I strongly suspect that she recognizes me for what I am, even though I tried to keep my own eyes downcast as much as possible.

  The Prince was furious when I told him of the encounter moments later. He grabbed me by the shoulders and told me in no uncertain terms to go nowhere near her, and to stop traveling the palace hallways alone. I’m terribly sorry, your Highness, but I can hardly help it if I am accosted by a scheming lord and subjected to rites of cordiality. What was I supposed to do, pick up my skirts and run away?

  As for not traveling alone, I don’t see how that would be possible unless I were to make Edmund tag along with me everywhere from now on, and I hardly see how he would be of any help if I should find myself in a dangerous situation. And what, exactly, is this dangerous situation I am supposed to be so apprehensive of?

  I think I may very well die of paranoia before anything else gets me.

  The Prince had become withdrawn in the past two days, and Viola sensed a growing frustration within him. He seemed always to be studying his pile of notes, or else tearing through the bookshelves (not literally, thankfully) as he went from one tome to the next in the hopes of discovering some untold tidbit of information. Viola longed to ask him what he was searching for so desperately. He had come to Lenore to find something specific, she knew, but with the advent of the Melanthine sorceress Natalia, his efforts had doubled.

  She had tried to talk to him a few times, but he actually shushed her, and then had the audacity to turn his back on her. His overly familiar attitude toward her had completely vanished, she couldn’t help but notice, and instead she was the recipient of that cold façade that he had used on Laelia.

  It hurt more than she cared to admit. She felt a sudden renewal of pity toward Laelia because of it.

  The Prince preferred the balcony in the library, Viola thought dourly. He was always up there in that vantage point where he could oversee the room. So why was it that when she went to sit up there on this particular afternoon, he remained on the main floor? Discontent ate at
her soul as she dipped her quill into her inkwell and scribbled another line of text from a medieval bestiary onto a sheet of loose-leaf paper. She had not realized until that morning that his distance applied only to her. He seemed to have no trouble whatsoever with being civil, even friendly, towards Charles and Edmund.

  She peeked over the balcony to where he sat poring over books and notes in front of him. She couldn’t recall angering him, but she could think of no other reason that he might avoid her. If he was still angry at her for meeting Lord Conrad’s guests the previous day, that was hardly fair. The encounter had been wholly out of her control.

  Half-tempted to ask him directly, she watched him scrawl something in the margin of one of his pages and then lean back to chew on his pen. When he had first come, she could not look his way without catching him looking back at her. Now, it was almost as though he was ignoring her.

  Viola was not pleased. Two could play at that game, she decided. She turned her back resolutely to him and focused her attention on the page in front of her, determined to act as though she was the only person in the room.

  The outer door opened and shut. She supposed that either Charles or Edmund had come early. The Prince seemed to get along with them just as well as before, so she felt no twinge of guilt for letting him deal with their entrance today. It was none of her business.

  A faint squeak signaled that the library door had opened as well. Viola thought they should probably oil that hinge, except that it was so useful to know when anyone was coming or going. She continued to write.

  “Viola,” said the Prince from below.

  “Yes, what is it?” she coldly asked, and she did not bother to turn around.

  “Were there any visitors scheduled for today?”

  In confusion, she answered, “What? Of course not. What are you—” Her voice strangled in her throat as she turned to discover not Charlie, not Edmund, but Victor Conrad in the entrance to the library. He stood frozen in place and staring at the Prince with surprised eyes.