Kingdom of Ruses Page 5

  Viola took this as her cue to depart, intent upon disclosing the truth to her father on the soonest occasion. Compulsion made her cast one final glance over her shoulder as she exited, and her eyes met the stranger’s. His golden gaze followed her while he attended to her brother’s explanation of the chimera game. It unsettled her, the way he seemed always to be watching her.

  At the same time, she had to admit that there was something captivating about him, something that drew her eyes to him even as she wanted to toss him out a window. She would have to be on her guard around him, she knew, or risk being taken advantage of again.

  A blush stained her cheeks as she recalled his actions by the well. That wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t be taken so by surprise again, she vowed.

  Chapter 5: Confession of a Crime is Often Harder than It Seems

  As a general rule, we’re not supposed to interrupt Father while he is working, and especially not to talk about the Prince. As I’ve said before, the secret is only discussed within the Prince’s quarters. The position of Prime Minister is a demanding one, and much as Father wishes he could spend more time with us, he does not want his work to fall behind and become unsatisfactory. If he was unsatisfactory at his job, some of the lords and magistrates might seek out the Prince to ask that a replacement Prime Minister be named, and as we all know, if they seek out the Prince, that would only cause unnecessary trouble.

  Hence, when Father is working, he is not to be disturbed.

  I took this particular occasion as an exception to the rule, however. It does seem important to let the man in charge know when his puppet figurehead has just turned from a puppet into a real living, breathing person. As an aside, when I use the term “puppet figurehead” I do not mean to imply that Father uses the Prince as a means of controlling Lenore. The truth is that Lenore is run by her lords and magistrates of the Parliament. The Prince provides protection, and Father provides a liaison between the Prince and the Parliament, and has very little to do with the actual governing, other than affixing the Prince’s seal to any laws that demand it.

  So I suppose you really could say that Father is the true ruler of Lenore, but he doesn’t see it that way himself and he would never abuse his position, unlike some other people, were they placed in the same situation. Lord Conrad, I’m referring to you, not that you’ll ever read this. The Prime Minister has been a Moreland since Lenore was founded five centuries ago, and you would be amazed at how humble that burden has kept our family, simply because it is a burden. I sometimes wonder if Father would give it all up if he had the chance.

  The Prime Minister was not in his office. His secretary, Mr. Sterling, informed Viola that she had only just missed him, and that if she was lucky she might be able to catch him before he went into a private meeting with Lord Winthrop. After being pointed in the correct direction, Viola hurried away with a grateful duck of her head. She nodded to a couple of guards she passed, and as she skidded around a corner, she caught sight of her father shaking Lord Winthrop’s hand and being ushered into his office. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but—

  “Viola, my dear!” said a voice from behind her, and she whirled.

  “Dr. Grayson,” she said in surprise. “I’m sorry—I didn’t see you there.”

  The white-haired palace doctor smiled pleasantly at her. “No, no, I’ve waylaid you, I’m afraid. You must have been chasing after your father.”

  A quick glance over her shoulder showed her that Prime Minister Moreland had already disappeared into Lord Winthrop’s office, with the door tightly shut behind him. Her heart sank. “It’s no matter,” she said dully. “I was too late anyway. I’ll just have to wait for him to come out again.”

  “Do you mind taking a short walk with an old family friend, then?” Dr. Grayson asked amiably.

  A smile touched Viola’s lips and she linked her arm in his. “What brings you to this part of the palace?” she asked as they strolled through the hallway.

  “I needed to schedule a couple of yearly physicals,” said the doctor. “The law mandates that all magistrates have their health examined at least once a year, but a few of them have been avoiding me. I suppose it’s not a surprising reaction, but it’s troublesome for me to have to track down people for a simple exam.”

  Viola recalled something the fake Prince had said to her earlier. “Doctor, is anatomy a very difficult subject?”

  The man stopped dead in his tracks and turned astonished eyes upon her. “Well, yes and no, but… there aren’t many women who are interested in such things. What brings on this query?”

  “I…” She hesitated to name her true reason for asking. Dr. Grayson had known her all her life—had been the doctor to deliver her, truth be told—and he also knew about the Prince’s secret, but she couldn’t discuss the latter issue here, and if she lied, the former issue would betray her. “Just curious,” she said all the same, and she forced some lightness into her voice. “Someone told me I should study it.”

  Dr. Grayson considered her words, but whatever conclusions he drew he kept to himself. “Anatomy is often deemed too vulgar a subject to teach delicate young women,” he said at last, “but if you truly wish to learn, I can lend you a couple books on the subject. I’ll warn you that they are illustrated, though, with pictures of intestines and musculature and other such things.”

  Her nose wrinkled on instinct. “I haven’t decided yet, but I appreciate the offer. I should check the Prince’s library to see if he has any books on the subject as well.”

  “Have you been feeling ill lately, Viola?” the doctor suddenly inquired.

  The question took her by surprise. She raised startled eyes to his face, wondering if her discomfiture was that apparent. “N-no,” she stammered. “Not at all, I assure you. Why would you think that?”

  “Well, suddenly wanting to learn such things as anatomy—I was wondering if, perhaps, you had been suffering from some ailment that you were reluctant to discuss with anyone. I hope you know that you can come to me regarding any such matter, and that as your doctor, I will respect your privacy.”

  A smile broke across her face at his prim sincerity. “Thank you, Dr. Grayson, but I really am fine.”

  He patted her hand fondly. “That’s good then. And how is your love life, Viola? Have any new suitors come chasing after you?”

  She could not stop the blood that rushed to her cheeks at such a question, especially given the earlier events of the day. She would hardly call the golden stranger a suitor, though. He was more of a menace. “No. You know I don’t have time for such things, what with all the Prince’s demands.”

  Luckily for Viola, she had blushed in a similar manner every time the doctor asked that question, which had been every time they had met since her tenth birthday. He hummed and patted her hand again, and they continued down the corridor.

  “I suppose I’ll leave you here, then,” said Dr. Grayson when they came to a certain junction. “I have to go look in on the infirmary still, and Mother Grayson will have dinner ready soon. Give the Prince my regards.” He favored her with a knowing smile at this last statement.

  Viola’s goodbye was somewhat more subdued than the doctor’s, as his words had forcibly reminded her of the situation at hand. She watched his retreat, waving a weak farewell to his back. When he disappeared around the next corner, she slowly lowered her hand and contemplated the good Dr. Grayson. He was outside the family, and he knew about the Prince. He had never betrayed that trust, either, so she knew that there were decent, reliable people. She wondered if the golden stranger could be as faithful as Dr. Grayson was at keeping secrets, though.

  She retraced her steps back to Lord Winthrop’s office. Under the circumstances, she didn’t like staying away from the Prince’s quarters for so long, even if Charles was with the stranger. He had proven to be entirely undependable in dealing with him. (Honestly, who asked him to befriend the scoundrel?) She supposed that Edmund would have joined them by now, since it w
as so late in the day. She shuddered to think what influence Charles and the golden stranger might have upon her impressionable little brother.

  Lord Winthrop’s door stood open, and when Viola approached, her heart sank even further. The office beyond was quite obviously vacated. Not knowing where her father would go next, she trotted back to speak with his secretary. Guilt gnawed at her. She wanted nothing more than to divulge her secret and let Father handle it. He would know what to do, she was certain.

  “You just missed him,” said Mr. Sterling when Viola appeared.

  “Has he gone to another meeting?” she asked as panic welled in her throat. She couldn’t spend hours chasing him around the palace, not under the circumstances.

  “I think he went to look for you. He left in that direction.” To Viola’s great dismay, her father’s secretary pointed toward the corridor that led to the Prince’s private quarters.

  “Thanks,” she said quickly, and she darted away to follow. Not knowing how much of a head start her father had on her, she hiked up her skirts and ran down the hallowed halls of the palace of Lenore, past the surprised guards and any staff that happened to be working late. As she turned into the last, broad corridor, she saw her father’s back. He was headed straight for the double doors that gave access to the Eternal Prince’s quarters.

  Breathless, she opened her mouth to call out to him. Her voice strangled in her throat as Lord Conrad came into view from an adjoining corridor and hailed her father. Viola didn’t trust that man, with his calculating eyes and superior expressions. He waylaid her father, and she hesitated over whether to interrupt their conversation or not. If this had been an average day, she wouldn’t have dreamed of such a thing. She suddenly recalled, however, that she owed no courtesy to the lord, especially since he had tried to have her evicted from her post at this afternoon’s meeting. So, boldly, she trotted forward and joined the two men.

  Whatever Lord Conrad had been saying died on his lips as she approached.

  “Ah, Viola,” said her father pleasantly. “I was just looking for you—Sterling said you had come to see me. I thought it must be something important for you to come to my office, especially this late in the day.”

  Viola hazarded a glance toward Lord Conrad. She could hardly disclose the truth here, in front of him. “The Prince wants you,” she said as she turned earnest eyes back to her father. “He’s demanded your presence, in fact, and I dare not go back without you.”

  Nicholas Moreland arched his brows in surprise. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “He is in one of his moods, I take it? Yes, I should not make him wait any longer. I’m sorry, Lord Conrad, but might we continue this conversation another time?”

  “Of course, Prime Minister,” said Lord Conrad. He eyed the pair warily. “Please convey my profuse apologies to the Prince for my impertinence this afternoon, if you would.”

  The Prime Minister tutted in response. “You could not have known that Viola attends those meetings on the Prince’s request. I’ll admit it’s very strange—took me off-guard the first time he demanded she come as well, if you must know—but, we do cater to his whims.”

  “He seems to have quite an interest in your daughter,” Conrad said.

  Nicholas placed an arm around Viola’s shoulders in a fatherly hug. “Not my daughter only—the Moreland family has served the Prince for generations. I think, perhaps, it is one of his more prominent eccentricities, that he looks upon us as his personal slaves.” He smiled then, but it was a brittle façade, for his eyes had become stony as he met Lord Conrad’s gaze.

  In the end, Conrad was the one to break that stare. “Well, I shall bring up this matter with you another time,” he said gruffly. “Again, give the Prince my apologies, and my regards.”

  Then, he retreated down the hallway.

  “Come, Viola,” said her father, and he oriented her toward the nearby double doors. “We mustn’t keep the Prince waiting any longer.”

  She allowed him to guide her past the sentries and into the room beyond. When the door was shut tightly behind them, he frowned curiously at her. “What’s this all about?”

  “Father, it’s about the doll—” she began, but her words were interrupted by a loud thump from the library and a cheer that unmistakably came from Charlie and Edmund.

  “What on earth are they doing?” her father asked, and he crossed to the library door.

  Viola swiftly caught at his arm even as he swung the door open. She spluttered some request for her father to wait, but she was too late. He froze in the doorway. Viola peered past him to discover Charlie and Edmund on either side of the golden stranger, who held a steel-tipped dart ready to throw at the beast-chart on the alcove wall. All three stared back with guilty expressions.

  Nicholas Moreland was speechless. Viola scrambled into the room and pushed the door shut behind her to enable that extra barrier between her family and the sentries that stood guard outside the Prince’s apartments.

  “Father, I didn’t get a chance to explain,” she said, her back against the door. “The doppelganger this afternoon wasn’t a doppelganger at all—I didn’t realize until we were already in the meeting. He’s discovered the truth about the Prince, Father. I’m sorry.”

  Her words hung in the air. The stillness finally broke when the golden stranger lowered his hand and bowed politely to her father. “Prime Minister,” he said smoothly, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  An inelegant sound gurgled out of Nicholas Moreland’s throat.

  Charles immediately stepped forward. “We have it all worked out already, Father. He’s promised not to tell anyone, and all we have to do—”

  “What do you want?” Nicholas asked the stranger, and though he spoke in barely a whisper, it cut through his son’s speech. “What do you want?”

  All eyes turned to the stranger, who smiled faintly. “I want a lot of things,” he said, and when his eyes flitted in Viola’s direction, her father took an instinctive step in front of her. “However,” said the stranger, as though he had not noticed this movement, “my purpose in coming to Lenore was to petition the Prince for use of his library.” His gaze traveled around the spacious room in which they stood.

  “His library?” Nicholas repeated, wary. “What for?”

  The stranger seemed open enough in his response. “Rumor has it that the Eternal Prince of Lenore keeps a good collection of books on ancient lore. I’ve exhausted my own people’s resources on a particular subject and came to discover whether more could be learned here.”

  “On what subject?”

  For a moment, Viola thought that the stranger would not answer. His golden eyes traveled to each person in the room as though considering his audience. Then, “I wish to know more about the nifaran,” he said quietly.

  “The what?” Edmund piped up, and Charles shot him a reproving look.

  “Why do you want to know about the nifaran?” asked Viola’s father, and there was a slight trembling to his voice.

  The stranger arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you think my curiosity is only natural?” he asked in return. Then, “Prime Minister,” he said with renewed solemnity, “whatever secrets you keep here in Lenore are none of my concern. If you have no recorded lore on the nifaran, then I will go on my way. If you do have anything, though, I beg you let me look it over. Please,” he added, and his eyes held a keen sincerity to them as he kept his gaze steady upon the Prime Minister’s face.

  A tense atmosphere stretched across the room as Nicholas Moreland did not immediately respond. At long last, though, and to Viola’s utmost surprise, he pointed one hand to the upper level. “The bestiaries and volumes of folklore are kept up there, along the east wall,” he said in quiet consent to the stranger’s request. “You will find tales of the nifaran there. Charles, Viola, Edmund, we must be getting home. Mother will be expecting us.”

  Chapter 6: Of Blood-bonds and Strange Rituals

  I wrote before that I would keep my journal in the Prince’
s Library, but I had to steal it away, given the circumstances, and shall keep it under my bed for now (though I hardly think it’s safer here). Father has instructed Charles, Edmund, and me to be very careful around the golden stranger, and he pulled me aside specifically and told me not to go anywhere near him if I am alone. I had to coerce Charlie to sneak up the back staircase into the library with me so that I could retrieve my journal at all.

  The stranger wasn’t in the library when we snuck in. I had thought that he would be there, but I was quite relieved to be wrong. To my great surprise, though, there were voices coming from the small study. At first, I was terrified that the stranger had brought friends, but then Charlie and I were able to discern that one of the persons speaking was Father. He had stolen back to the Prince’s quarters as well—we neither of us had noticed his absence at home—apparently to have a more in-depth discussion with the stranger. While Charles crouched at the door to eavesdrop (the nosy creature), I hurried up to the balcony to retrieve this journal.

  Charles had an odd look on his face when I returned, and as he pushed me toward the back stairs, I asked what he had overheard. He said only that Father and the stranger—the Prince, he called him, as I suppose we all will have to from now on—were speaking of the nifaran. I don’t know why that would make him look so perplexed, however.

  Charlie and I used to pore over the bestiaries in the Prince’s library, back when we were children, and I’ve read much of the folklore and fairytales there too. A nifara—or if referred to in plural, the nifaran—is a mythical creature, a human who has died and been brought back to life, according to the legends. Only, when they’re brought back to life, the nifaran are no longer human. They’re creatures of magic, capable of commanding many other magical creatures. According to the legends of Lenore, the Eternal Prince could be a nifara, except that he lives alone and the nifaran, if I remember correctly, always lived in pairs. I think the most prevalent belief among the commoners is that the Prince is an elf or a god, but it makes sense that he might have started out as a nifara, and that the tales became warped over the centuries.