Dark Court: The Summons Page 3

  Ashra blinked at the offer—one she had never expected to receive. On the surface, it sounded pleasant and friendly, but Ashra wasn't sure Fiedra was capable of either. "That is very kind of you."

  She didn't know what else to say, unwilling to burn any bridges at this point—not until she knew what was going on.

  "So many people are curious about you," Fiedra continued, now studying her as if she was something interesting and unusual. Ashra got such mixed messages from the woman. She stepped closer. "Obviously some don't approve of your kind here," she said quietly as if passing on a secret. She stepped back again. "But I think once people get to know you, such prejudices will fall away."

  Again, Ashra had no idea how to take this. In some ways, having Fiedra as an ally would be immensely helpful, but then the hairs on the back of her neck were on edge, as if she was in immediate danger. No, Fiedra made her feel uncomfortable and she wasn't sure she was well served by having any kind of relationship with this woman. Perhaps it was unavoidable in a small place like this, where they more or less lived in each other's presence.

  "Think about my offer," Fiedra said, her back and neck impossibly straight. With a nod and a sniff, she floated away, her gown swinging as she moved. Ashra's eyes followed her, but her focus shifted to the man standing some ways behind Fiedra, whose attention was unmistakable. Roisen Lorcan. Tall, broad, with a look she could only describe as including malice.

  If anyone did not want her kind here, it was him. He certainly didn't hide his open loathing. He unblinkingly stared at her, but gave no sign of greeting, as if he was watching trash getting up off the floor and walking around the room.

  Tabain's fidgeting called her attention away and at the same moment, Lorcan shifted his gaze to Fiedra, who had joined his group. She must have said something and Ashra wondered if they were discussing her. Heat flared up her cheeks as she kept walking to the refreshment table. If she guessed right, every person in this room was discussing her.

  Chapter 5:

  * * *

  Ashra didn't know how to feel waking the next day. The view from her bedroom showed the landscape and the sky—gray with clear patches. But the events of the previous evening left her feeling heavy and confused. The people here hadn't exactly welcomed her with open arms, but then they hadn't been terrible either. Granted, she hadn't spoken to most of them, and the look Roisen Lorcan had thrown her way suggested he wasn't all that impressed with her presence. If it was her or the fact she was there, she didn't know. Others seemed to accept her as Torunn's widow. About Fiedra, she had no idea how to feel, but appreciated that the woman had, for all intents and purposes, reached out.

  Tabain was playing contentedly on the floor with the toys they had brought with them. He had a collection around him and intermittently returned to his trunk to pull another out as if he were discovering them after a long time. She smiled as she watched him. Here in these apartments, he seemed to be settling in.

  A bell pull hung along the back wall and she wondered who would come if she pulled it. So she tried. It made no sound, no indication that anything happened as a consequence. For all she knew, it didn't work. To find out, she sat down on the sofa and waited.

  One of the disconcerting things about this place was its size. She didn't have the means of orientating herself, unable to make sure she found her way back, even if she made it down to the garden she spied below her balcony. Tabain could use some sun and fresh air.

  A quick knock on the door and a page appeared. "How may I serve you, Lady Greve?" the man asked.

  "What must I do to procure breakfast?"

  "You have but to say the word and I will bring it from the kitchen."

  So they didn't dine in a hall. Ashra was pleased. "Yes, please," she said and the page disappeared before she could say a word more.

  With a sigh, she sat down again. The idea of being here still made her feel tense. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it felt false somehow, a created world to portray Raufasger's wishes. This was apparently what he wished, a court that surrounded him, looked up to him as their king and ruler.

  Before long, a couple of pages returned, carrying trays of food—a sumptuous meal. The people of Raufasger’s court were denied very little and the choice was more than she could ever manage. Again, the pages left quickly and Ashra brought Tabain, with toy in hand, to the table.

  *

  Once dressed, Ashra stepped out on the balcony to survey the garden again, trying to determine how to get there. The wind was sharp and cold, playing with her hair. Voices drifted on the winds and when she searched for them, she saw people down in the courtyard below her. A couple of horses were waiting, their hoofs prancing eagerly as they waited. They were attached to what looked like a fine carriage. Someone was preparing to leave and she soon saw the blond hair of Lorcan appear below her.

  The voices were too muffled to hear anything, but with sharp movements, he approached the carriage and the driver prepared to take his seat and took the reins. Even without hearing him, she saw Lorcan was giving orders. He spoke quickly to someone as the horses grew impatient, then stepped into the carriage.

  A knock on the door distracted her. Unsure who would come see her, she walked to the door and was surprised to see Niesen Woord, who had come to the estate once, conducting the Raufasger’s business. He was technically a nobleman, but he served Raufasger, and wore more muted and practical clothes compared to anyone she'd seen so far.

  "Good morning," he said. "May I have a word?"

  "Of course," she said, swinging the door open further to let him in.

  "You have no servants?" he asked.

  "I do not just at the moment."

  "I suggest you retrieve one, acquire one if you must," Woord said and walked swiftly into the room. "You will need someone to see to your comfort." His eyes were distracted by the view for a moment as if he didn't see it so often.

  "Do you think I will be here long, then?"

  "If you are fortunate," he said with a trying smile that held no warmth.

  What were the unfortunate outcomes, she wanted to ask, but she'd seen some of them on the way here. Perhaps he was one of the persons she could ask such questions; she desperately needed someone to advise her and she didn't want to take Fiedra up on her offer.

  "I am one of the court secretaries," he said with his head held high. "I am responsible for making sure the liege has things the way he wants."

  So he was Raufasger's man, as she’d suspected. "And in this particular case, what does he want?"

  "He, I am sure, wants to ensure you settle in and have every comfort." The congenial expression on his face was efficient. That was the best way she could describe it. He wasn't going to tell her any more.

  "There is a garden," she said, partially in a way to test him and his usefulness. "I am assuming we can use it." She indicated to the balcony.

  "Ah," he said and stepped out. "There are a few. That is the moonlight garden. As its name suggests, it is also beautiful in the moonlight. The liege, at times, likes to spend time in the gardens if his mind feels troubled."

  There was still noise down in the courtyard and when Ashra looked down, there was a carriage that hadn't been there before, that Ashra guessed was to follow Lorcan. Lorcan's party in the courtyard started moving, the hooves clatter echoing off the walls until they moved through a portcullis.

  "Lord Lorcan is leaving," Ashra said.

  "He is returning to his estate."

  Ashra was pleasantly surprised, glad to know the person who seemed least welcoming would not be here.

  To her disappointment, Woord continued. "Only for a while. The liege has given him leave to collect his wife."

  Ashra hadn't known he was married. "His apartments are here?"

  "Yes, he is directly above those gardens you've showed an interest in."

  A gust of wind pushed through and Ashra shuddered. So he was close by, neighbors in the scale of this place. Rubbing her arms, she stepped b
ack inside and Woord followed her.

  "There is, of course, a ball tonight that you are expected to attend."

  "A ball?" Ashra said with a surprised chuckle. "I wouldn't expect Raufasger to be much for dancing."

  Woord didn't look amused, no she was getting the impression he took his job much too seriously to be amused by anything Raufasger did. "The liege does not dance, but if there are to be diversions, you are expected to attend."

  Diversion from what, she wanted to ask, but thought better of it. Woord was not going to be an ally. He cared for his position and his position only. She'd met his ilk before.

  "As you say," she said tartly. "And how am I to know when these diversions are to take place? Is there a herald that will go around and mention them?"

  "If there is something you will need to attend, I will send a page to inform you." Woord eyed her up and down, his look disapproving.

  Woord thought highly of himself, which must be difficult here where he, through whatever family circumstance—poverty, probably—was not quite good enough and would never be a part of the ruling class. Perhaps it grated him that she, someone so low, was technically above him, expected to participate in the diversions he just mentioned, while he was more or less a glorified servant.

  "Then I will look forward to hearing from you," she said with a smile. It didn't reach her eyes, but she suspected it would serve her little not to uphold manners. It might pay to not offend Woord. While lacking in status, she suspected he was part of the oil that made this machine function, and shouldn't be underestimated.

  Was he underestimating her, though? Probably, as were quite a few people, she was sure—seen as naturally stupid and crude. Granted, she was the person who simply wanted to escape from here.

  Woord nodded and took his leave, walking out with his head held high. Unfortunately, he was never going to be an ally. He believed in Raufasger's new social stratification, both guarded and resented his place in it, and the stroke of fate that now placed her, an undeserving, above him. Perhaps that was the chink in the new order, the twist that elevated her above herself. Woord no doubt thought he was the one that should be elevated, no doubt had hopes in that direction.

  He was perhaps right that she needed help, at least someone to watch Tabain. She would send the carriage that very afternoon to retrieve a girl who could watch him. Maria, probably. He always liked Maria, and she was a gentle girl.

  Being alone again, Ashra exhaled and stepped outside, wishing the gusting wind to carry the malaise away from her. There appeared to be very ugly undercurrents in Raufasger's new court. How could she be surprised?

  In the distance, she saw the now small figures of Lorcan and his party moving at speed away from the citadel, wasting no time on this journey. Lucky him, she conceded, wishing that was her, riding away from here for good. Would she ever see that day? For the first time, she started to wonder if Raufasger intended to keep her here for quite a while.

  Chapter 6:

  * * *

  The ballroom was surprisingly beautiful. There were mirrors lining the walls and endless candles brightening the space. The ceiling soared above their heads, elaborately carved stone. The very air seemed to sparkle. Again, Ashra felt underdressed. The men wore fine, elaborately embroidered clothes and the women wrapped in bright colors, like jewels floating across the parquet floor. She'd never seen a group so finely attired.

  For herself, she'd chosen dark colors. Technically, she was still in mourning, although many probably thought that time was well past. Still, she couldn't help feeling self-conscious walking into the room, as if she wasn't living up to the standards.

  Raufasger sat on what could only be described as a throne, an elevated platform along the back wall, surrounded by rich red velvet. He looked old and miserable, but was there another way he would look? He wasn’t a young man and his body belied the power he yielded.

  Grabbing a champagne from a passing tray, Ashra made her way into the room, skirting around the dancers in the middle of the floor, who all looked elegant as they waltzed around, the women's skirts swinging and flaring with the turns. She had no idea whether she was to dance that night. Was it expected? And with whom?

  Now that she was here, she felt awkward, unsure where she was welcome. She saw Fiedra across the room, wearing a red gown with black trim around the waist and skirt. She was talking to a man, leaning close to hear whispered sentiments. No, she definitely didn't want anything to do with Fiedra and her air of superiority.

  Eyes watched her as she made her way around. Perhaps Ackerle would be here and she could join in whatever conversation he had.

  "Lady Greve," a man said and she was relieved to join a conversation. Perhaps then, people would stop watching her. "How are you this evening?" He wore a satin jacket in dark green. It sat awkwardly on him and looked like he'd owned it for decades.

  "Well. Still trying to find my way around the citadel."

  "You never stop trying to find your way around. He's still growing the city. The size it is now, I think we can rightly call it a city. Maybe then he'll feel safe."

  Ashra frowned at the statement. "Safe from whom?" Who did he fear would attack him? He had conquered all his enemies already. There was no one left standing; no one had been strong enough to stop him as he'd taken over the land.

  "Well, that is the question, isn't it?" the man said, studying her with slightly hazy eyes. "Forgive me, Ald Croecet." Taking her hand, he bowed.

  "Pleased to meet you, Lord Croecet. Lady Ashra Greve."

  He seemed pleased that she had the required manners. It made her wonder what they assumed—perhaps due to her birth, she was incapable of basic manners. Maybe she was being ungenerous. She took a sip of her champagne.

  "Well, my girl.” The endearment didn't escape her and she wondered what it meant. Was this potentially a friend of Torunn's she was speaking to? "It is pleasant to have new blood with us." Again, Ashra didn't know whether he was pointing out her low birth. "These things do get staid. Although I see one of our more illustrious members is absent tonight."

  "Lord Lorcan?" she asked. He was the only person she knew was absent.

  "Things do have a way of seeming calmer when he's not here."

  Ashra didn't know how to take that, or what it meant. Perhaps Lorcan was one of those persons who just made people uncomfortable. He certainly made her uncomfortable. There had been nothing friendly about him, but then most people hadn't been friendly. This man was perhaps the most friendly she had met so far, others being merely tolerant.

  "A cornerstone of the ever shifting factions in this room," he continued, "but tonight the undercurrents are shifting quite dramatically. A victim has been claimed," he said gravely as if in a pantomime and the villain had just been introduced.

  "I don't understand."

  "Well, you see there has been a move against young Fronsac over there." She followed the direction of his gaze to a man on the other side of the room, whose mouth was drawn tight and he looked murderous. "The Roenbaums have just gotten Raufasger to award a disputed piece of land in their favor, and young Fronsac never agreed the land was in dispute, but the Roenbaums are much better at currying the liege's favor. Fronsac is unfortunately too stupid and arrogant to protect his own back, and today, he lost."

  "What was the nature of the dispute?" Ashra said, feeling concern creep up her spine.

  Croecet laughed. "The dispute was that Roenbaum wanted it and Fronsac wasn't strong enough to stand in his way."

  "Surely they can't just strip his land off him."

  The man now gave her a look that said she was entirely as uneducated as he expected her to be. "To be so young and innocent," he said as if amused. "Does not spell well for you, my dear, particularly now that all the eyes in this room have turned on you."

  Ashra looked around, but didn't see anyone staring at her as such.

  "The play between Fronsac and Roenbaum is but a squabble now that the big game has begun," he continued in a theat
rically dire voice.

  "What game?"

  "Who is to claim the Greve land, of course."

  Goose bumps broke out across Ashra's arms and she snapped her eyes back to him. The man was smiling. She almost felt like looking down to see if a dagger was stuck in her heart. That was how it felt. His meaning was more than clear. "The Greve land belongs to my son," she stated, trying to keep her voice steady.

  "Well, I hope he has some fortitude—the sharks are circling. It will be fascinating to watch how this all progresses."

  "I'm glad it will serve as amusement for you," Ashra said tartly, feeling anger radiate out of every cell.

  "It is only right to warn you," he said and drifted away with a wave of his fingers. He had enjoyed informing her of that; Ashra could tell. Well, at least he had been honest, which was more than anyone else. The warning had been performed with amusement at her expense, however.

  So that was why she'd been summoned. This was all a big game about who would claim her land. Thrown in like a lamb amongst the wolves.

  Nausea gripped her stomach. She wanted to leave, but she wasn't sure she could. She was here because Raufasger wanted her here, was in some way testing her. Was this the reason, that they wanted to strip her estate off her? Was she the blood sport that would keep this court entertained for a while?

  Her summons here made sense now. In a way, she wanted to grab that man back and interrogate him on who and how, and what they'd do. Had Ackerle and Heiege known this when she'd spoken to them that first time? Of course they had, she surmised—or at least suspected.

  And there were factions. Croecet had implied so—factions that fought against each other. With renewed sight, she surveyed the room again, her eyes settling on Fiedra, who was laughing at someone's joke, or was that familiarity? Her hand seemed to settle possessively on the man's arm and Ashra was fairly certain that wasn't her husband. Were they lovers? What faction did Fiedra represent?