Jeweled Fire by Sharon Shinn
Corene leaned back and surveyed Steff and Liramelli. “Or if Lorian realized that the two of you had fallen in love,” she said.
Liramelli snatched her hand away; her cheeks were bright with color. “What? No! We’re not—we’re just very good friends,” she said.
But Steff, grinning, took hold of her hand again and squeezed it so hard she couldn’t pull free. “So you think he would have gotten rid of me if he thought I was stealing Liramelli from the rightful heir?” he asked cheerfully.
“I think it’s very likely,” Jiramondi said.
“Lucky for you two Lorian will be locked up somewhere for the rest of his life,” Corene informed them.
Liramelli’s gaze dropped to the table and Jiramondi’s expression grew more severe. “No,” Jiramondi said, “he’ll be executed within the nineday. Traitors always are.”
It was not the custom in Welce, so Corene couldn’t help but be shocked. But when she tried to frame a counterargument, she found it hard to come up with reasons why Lorian shouldn’t be put to death.
“I’m sure he doesn’t see himself as a traitor,” she said softly. “He sees himself as a great patriot who was trying to serve his country by keeping its rulers strong.”
“I don’t think that’s the kind of service Malinqua needs,” Jiramondi replied.
Melissande stirred on her chair. “What happens next?” she asked. “I want so very much to stay and find out, but I am certain I will be leaving very soon. An ambassador from my mother arrived with the navy, but I do not think he and Filomara will have much to discuss. We will sail for Cozique in a day or two.”
“And I’ll be leaving for Welce in the morning,” Corene said, feeling equally dismayed about the prospect. “So you’ll have to promise to keep in touch and tell us everything that happens here.”
“I’m not much of one for writing letters,” Steff excused himself.
“I will tell you everything,” Liramelli promised.
“It will take some time to pick up the pieces,” Jiramondi said. “And I don’t know what kind of bargain the Coziquela forces will strike with the empress.” He glanced at Melissande. “You might not be leaving after all. Perhaps what your mother will want to ensure peace between nations is a blood treaty. You to marry Garameno.”
“Garameno?” Corene repeated.
Jiramondi nodded. “Now that it’s clear he’s a whole man, there’s no impediment to naming him her heir. Greggorio is dead, Steff is—”
“A bumpkin,” Corene supplied. She couldn’t resist.
“And I am still the abomination with the revolting predilections,” Jiramondi finished up. “Garameno is the only choice to become Filomara’s heir.”
“But perhaps the empress will then want Garameno to marry Liramelli,” Corene suggested.
Liramelli practically flounced in her chair. “I don’t want to marry Garameno.”
“No, and I do not want to, either,” Melissande said thoughtfully. “I admire Garameno, but I do not like him very much. I do not want to be tied to him.”
She sighed. “And I do not want to be tied to Malinqua. I thought it would be a grand adventure to come to a foreign nation and marry a handsome young heir, but I find the prospect less appealing every day. I miss Cozique so much more than I expected. I want to go home.”
“I thought your mother put conditions on your return,” Corene said.
Melissande sighed again. “Yes, indeed. She wants me to marry. She will have picked out a suitable groom for me by now, I’m afraid. But perhaps the man will not be so bad. Or we will be able to come to a certain understanding.” She shrugged.
“I suppose Garameno will be able to find a bride among the women of Malinqua,” Corene said.
Jiramondi hesitated. “I suppose he will,” he said. “Though there are stories—they might or might not be true—”
“That he is impotent!” Melissande exclaimed. “Yes, we have heard these tales. But there are many ways for a sterile man to bring children into the world.”
“Not in Malinqua,” Jiramondi said. “Where, as you know, blood can be tested.”
Melissande spoke with great earnestness and not a trace of embarrassment. “Then you will have to overcome your repugnance and mate with a woman at least enough times to produce a royal heir on behalf of the family,” she said. “I imagine you will be able to manage it. We are not so repulsive, you know.”
Jiramondi looked so nonplussed that Corene burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. Steff was laughing, too, and Liramelli—though she looked appalled at the plain speaking—could not suppress a smile. Jiramondi finally wiped the astonishment off his face and offered Melissande a slight bow.
“And, indeed, I’m sure I could manage it if I had to, but fortunately, there is another way.”
Liramelli was clutching Steff’s hand again. “Steff,” she said.
Jiramondi nodded. “Indeed, yes. Steffanolo. I think it likely that Filomara will choose Garameno to rule after her—and declare his heirs to be the children of Steffanolo’s body.” He glanced at Liramelli. “If Steffanolo happens to marry someone highly favored by members of the court, that solution will appear all the more satisfactory.”
“Oh, I do like that,” Corene said. “Very tidy. Filomara’s direct bloodline continues, but Malinqua doesn’t have to suffer through an incompetent king. Or emperor or whatever you people call yourselves.”
“I don’t really think I’d be so bad,” Steff said. When they all looked skeptical, he grinned. “Well, at least I wouldn’t go around murdering people. That makes me better than that Morli fellow, at least. And that other one—Donato.”
“I remember my uncles very clearly, and you are much better,” Jiramondi assured him.
“So things are resolved very neatly here in Palminera,” Corene said. “Once you get rid of the Coziquela armies, of course, and clean up the bodies, and execute the traitors—”
“Yes, it will take us some time to get back to normal, but then I hope for a period of great calm,” Jiramondi said.
“But what happens to you?” Melissande asked him. “Everyone else is either dead or has found his place. What about you?”
He spread his hands in an expressive gesture. “I believe I will have some value as an advisor to Garameno. We have always gotten along well enough, and he has few people he can truly trust.”
“It doesn’t sound like a very exciting life,” Corene said.
“After the past few ninedays, I am less interested in exciting and more interested in sane,” said Jiramondi.
“You say that now,” Melissande said. “But in a quintile, you will be wracked with boredom.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “If that’s the case, I’ll start looking around for amusement.”
“I have a better idea,” Melissande said. She had been yawning just moments ago, but now she seemed revitalized. She straightened in her seat and brushed back her dark hair. “You can come to Cozique and marry me.”
“I can—what?”
They were all staring at Melissande, who was rosy with delight. “It is perfect!” she exclaimed. “There must be some sort of negotiations between Cozique and Malinqua, you know, since my mother has invaded your city! We will present ourselves as willing to do whatever it takes to ensure peace between our nations. But in reality, we will be pleasing ourselves. You will be very much liked in Cozique, where we appreciate clever and insightful men. You will not be shocked by my behavior and I certainly will not be shocked by yours. I cannot see a single impediment.”
“But he—he will not love you,” Liramelli said hesitantly.
Melissande waved this away. “No, but he will like me, and I will like him, which matters a great deal in marriages such as these,” she replied. “More than love, perhaps.”
“Are you serious?” Jiramondi demanded.
“Marriage to you would solve many of the dilemmas in my life,” Jiramondi admitted. “But to move to Cozique—that isn’t something I’d considered.”
Melissande shrugged. “We could split our time, perhaps—a quintile in Malinqua, a quintile in Cozique. As time goes on, I think you will find yourself happier in my country. But all of that could be arranged later.”
Jiramondi glanced from her to the others, his face full of questions and doubt. Liramelli still looked uncertain, but Steff nodded encouragingly, and Corene gave him a wide smile. “I think it sounds ideal,” she said. “I can’t think of anyone who would object.”
“Then I say—” Jiramondi hesitated a moment before plunging on. “Then I say yes.”
• • •
Leaving Jiramondi and Melissande to talk over the details of their arrangement, the rest of them filed off to their beds. There was still a great deal to discuss, Corene thought hazily, but she was too tired to think things through. Maybe her brain would be clearer in the morning. Well, it was almost morning already. Maybe it would be clearer in the afternoon.
Leah and Foley and Captain Sorren and a good portion of his men followed Corene through all the twisting hallways to her own quarters. “We’ll just bivouac in the corridor,” Captain Sorren said. That was when Corene realized she would have no good reason to expect Foley to stay in her room overnight to protect her. Tonight of all nights! When they had even more to discuss than Jiramondi and Melissande did! She couldn’t prevent herself from glancing back at him and saw, by his faint smile, that he was thinking the same thing.
Well, they would have other days to talk. Other nights to spend together.
“You’ll stay in my suite, of course,” she said to Leah as she unlocked the door. “There’s plenty of room.”
“The princess’s leg needs attention,” Foley spoke up. “She should have had someone look at it already.”
“How bad is it?” Leah wanted to know.
“I ache so much all over I couldn’t actually tell you,” Corene said with a sigh. “But I’m pretty sure the bleeding has stopped.”
“Do you have any medical supplies?” Leah asked.
“I’ve got a few things in my room,” Foley said. “I’ll take care of her. You go settle in.”
And just like that, he managed to get them ten minutes alone.
As soon as they stepped inside his room, he closed the door and opened his arms. She sank against him as if she would melt against his body and re-form herself to his shape and contours. He pressed her against him—supporting her, protecting her, loving her, all with one embrace—and she felt his mouth against her hair.
“Did you mean it?” she said against his shirt.
“Mean what?”
“When you said you loved me.”
“What do you think?”
She lifted her head and he dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “I think you would have said anything right then to get me to jump.”
“Maybe I would have,” he said, “but as it happens I meant it.”
“It’s not very nice of you,” she said, “to make me almost die before you tell me you love me.”
That made him laugh. “Well, it’s not very nice of you to almost die,” he pointed out. “So we’re even.”
“Will I have to wait till the next time I’m in mortal danger to hear you say it again?”
“I love you I love you I love you,” he recited. “So, no.”
“Will you still love me when we’re back in Welce?” she asked.
That question he didn’t respond to quite as quickly. He loosened his hold and pulled her over to a stool, pushing her to sit. “Roll up the hem of your trousers,” he said. “I want to get a look at that leg.”
“That wasn’t an answer,” she said, but she spoke to his back, since he had stepped into the second room to fetch his supplies. She sighed and rolled back the fabric of her pants. Well, there certainly was a reason her calf was throbbing with pain. The skin was bruised and torn, and one long gash was a trough of dried blood. “Ow,” she said, because just looking at it hurt.
Foley returned and knelt before her. “Try to hold still,” he advised as he went to work. First he cleaned the area, then smeared it with ointment, then wrapped it with a bandage. “You probably should have bathed first,” he said. “Because you’ll want to keep that dry.”
She laughed tiredly. “I know I smell like smoke, but I’m too tired to bathe anyway. I’ll have Leah help me change the dressing in the morning.”
He stayed kneeling on the floor, her foot braced against his thigh, and looked up at her. “Yes,” he said.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll still love you in Welce. Will you still love me?”
“Yes,” she said. “Ask me sometime how long I’ve been in love with you. Way longer than you’ve been in love with me.”
A faint smile played around his mouth. “You might be wrong about that.”
Surprise sent a jolt of wakefulness through her veins. “Really? How long?”
“You keep asking me. Why I came with you to Malinqua.”
“Because—because you were in love with me? Really?”
“I don’t think I would have admitted it, even to myself. I just knew that when you asked me to accompany you, I was filled with a sense of rightness. And something a little fiercer than that. I thought about it later. I think it was joy.”
“I was always so jealous of Josetta. Having you to look after her. Watch over her. I used to try to imagine what that would be like.” She smiled. “And it has been even better than I imagined.”
He stretched up to give her another brief kiss, then settled back on his heels. “I would have given my life for her,” he said seriously. “I respect her, I care about her, I believe in her. But I didn’t give my heart to her. I saved it for you.”
She set her hands on his shoulders and gave him a serious look. “It will be a little tricky. In Chialto,” she admitted. “It will be a while before my father thinks I’m old enough to hold down my own household. But you know how stubborn I am. I won’t give you up once we’re back in Welce.”
He hesitated a moment, then said, “Maybe we shouldn’t go back to Welce.”
“I’ve considered staying in Malinqua for a while longer,” she admitted. “But I think Filomara has more important things to do than entertain foreign guests.”
“There are other countries to visit,” he said. “Other places to see.”
She blinked at him. Of course he was right. Of course her choices were wider than Malinqua or Welce. There was a whole bright world out there, filled with brilliant courts, scheming nobles, and monarchs looking to shore up their alliances.
“Cozique,” she breathed. “We have been trading partners for decades, but no Welchin royalty has visited that court since before Vernon was on the throne.”
He was laughing. “And just how do you know that?”
She waved a careless hand. “It used to come up in our history lessons all the time. But I am the daughter of the man who will soon be king of Welce. I think Melissande’s mother would be very happy to meet me. We can talk trade—but we can talk other things, too.”
“You could be Welchin diplomat to all the southern nations,” Foley suggested. “If you’re looking for a role to play with your life, that could very well be it.”
Sheer excitement made her laugh out loud. “Yes! Of course, my father might have some thought about which nations I should approach and what kinds of treaties he’d like to sign, but— Foley, I think I could do this! I think I would love to do this!” She gave
“I would be happy to travel with you to every corner of the world.”
“But we will start with Cozique,” she said. “We can set sail with Melissande and Jiramondi.”
“Jiramondi?”
She didn’t bother to explain, just flung her arms around his neck and hugged him hard. “Yes! We’ll go to Cozique within the nineday! Foley, it’s perfect!”
• • •
Predictably, when Melissande heard about this plan in the morning, she was delighted. “Absolutely! You shall come with us when we leave tomorrow. My mother’s own ship has been sent to bring me back, and I assure you, the accommodations are most luxurious. You will love Cozique—and, oh, how much Cozique will love you.”
Less predictably, Nelson was also enthusiastic about the plan. “Cozique, eh? From everything I hear, you’ll fit right in. And sweela souls make the best ambassadors.” He tapped his temple. “All that thinking.”
Corene was pleased but bewildered. “Aren’t you going to argue with me? Tell me I have to come home?”
“Do you want me to?” he inquired. “You know I love a good argument.”
“No! My mind is quite made up. But aren’t you worried that my father will be angry with you? He sent you here to bring me back.”
“It’s why he sent me,” Nelson agreed, “but it’s not why I came.”
Corene hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Leah,” she said. “You came to Malinqua to bring her back home.”
“That’s right. And she’s agreed to sail with me in the morning. From my point of view, the journey has been a success.”
Corene tilted her head to one side, thinking that over. “Mine, too,” she said. “Not at all what I expected, but very much a success.”
• • •
There were more goodbyes to make—to Liramelli, to Steff, even to Garameno. She still found it odd to see Garameno on his feet, moving decisively around the room, filled with new confidence and power. He looked so much like Greggorio that it made her heart ache—but he was so much himself that she was able to swallow her sadness.