Dark Court: The Summons Read online

  Ashra wanted nothing but to walk out the door and put these people behind her, but she knew in her heart Tabain would lose everything if she did. All these people assumed her a stupid Solmnite and it would be easy to loosen her grip around her son's inheritance.

  Cloying anger practically dripped off her and her eyes searched the room again. She had been warned she'd landed in a nest of vipers. She saw that now.

  If there were factions, then there would be strength. She needed to work out how it worked, and find a way of protecting her son and his land. As disgusted as she felt, she was not going to let these cretins win. They all expected her to simply roll over and comply, but she was not going to let that happen. She had to find a faction, one that would protect her. If only she knew how to do this. Why hadn't Torunn prepared her? The answer was clear: because he'd had no expectation of dying and wanted to keep this ugliness from her.

  In a way, her adoration of her husband increased, because he'd held his own here. She couldn't let him down by losing the estate—particularly not as easily as Croecet believed it would happen.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ashra sorted the things she needed in her head. Firstly, what were the factions and who belonged where? Then, what were the tensions and what were the rules of the game? Thirdly, how did Raufasger fit into this picture? Croecet had said that the Roenbaums had succeeded by manipulating Raufasger, and Fronsac had been poor at it.

  Suddenly, she realized how much she had to learn, but if these people knew her well, they would know that giving up was not something she did easily. Perhaps that invitation from Fiedra was the perfect opportunity to learn. Instead of staying clear of her when she obviously made Ashra uncomfortable, Ashra would embrace Fiedra's proposal to show her the ropes. Obviously, she wouldn't believe a word Fiedra said, but would study what she said and the meaning behind it.

  Her presence in this sumptuous room took on another light. Everyone at this court thought her an idiot. Perhaps that would play in her favor, she thought as she made her way around, taking note of the faces she passed, and who was talking to who. Croecet could read the room by looking at it; it was an ability she would have to develop—and quickly. It wouldn't serve her to stay on the sidelines as much as possible as she had been planning to do. That truly would be weakness, and she could not afford that.

  "Lady Vaultier," she said as she approached Fiedra. "You look stunning in that dress."

  Fiedra turned her gaze to Ashra, her eyebrow arched for a moment before she smiled. Again, it didn't exactly reach her eyes. "Lady Greve, you look… somber." Fiedra obviously didn't approve of her dark dress.

  "Losing my husband, I can't seem to embrace bright colors just yet."

  "Perfectly understandable." Fiedra considered her again. Ashra wasn't sure what was going on inside her head. Perhaps Fiedra was surprised she had dared approach her, maybe wondering if she had taken the invitation at face value. A fleeting grin ghosted over Fiedra's features as if she couldn't believe Ashra would be so naïve.

  "And who are these gentlemen?" Ashra asked, smiling as she turned away her attention. Yes, I will use you for all I can, Ashra thought as she turned a beaming smile to the group. "Please introduce me." Fiedra's smile wavered for a moment before she composed herself again and proceeded with introductions.

  Chapter 7:

  * * *

  The pond in the middle of the garden was a very long rectangle, Ashra saw as she finally managed to find her way to it. The water was glassy and still, the only movement being small fish zipping around under the water. This was a beautiful garden, with lush and green plants along the borders, some of which she'd never seen before.

  Tabain walked ahead of her, exploring this new space. It was nice to be outside; it was nice to feel the sun on her face. Closing her eyes, Ashra looked up and felt the sun gently warming her face, chasing away the cold that seemed prevalent in this place. They'd been inside the entire time and it was nice to escape the citadel for a moment.

  The previous night returned to Ashra's mind, thoughts buzzing around her head. Something had become clear last night, that she was not going to be able to sit back and just wait for this to be over; she had to be active to protect her interests and her son. The game had now become clear, and she had to play her part in it, or simply be a victim. This was a game and she was going to learn the rules, making her initial move last night.

  It had been an unpleasant task, but she needed to know the players, needed to know who to watch out for. A tea was planned with Fiedra later that afternoon and Ashra would attend, knowing full well that Fiedra did not have her interest at heart. But that didn't matter, this was about winning.

  Looking back up at the towering structure behind her, Ashra sighed. This place was not about making friends, it was about survival.

  With every bit of her, she wished she could escape from here; run away and never return. She wondered if everyone else felt the same way. Surely, most of them did, but some would likely thrive in this environment. Others perhaps, did what they had to keep their head above water. For all the luxury here, it was still very much a game of basic survival.

  But the one thing she did know, was that Torunn had ended up dead and she was certain it wasn't of natural causes. This meant someone was responsible; it also meant this was a place where people ended up dead. There was a murderer here, perhaps more than one.

  Ashra looked back and watched her son as he played. New worries crossed her mind. She had to keep him safe, and in order to do that, she had to play this game and to do it well. Fiedra was a means to serve that end, even if she couldn't trust her worth one bit.

  Was her son safe here? Would someone be depraved enough to harm a child? Someone had been depraved enough to harm Torunn.

  She even considered returning him to the estate, but she also wanted him near. She would have to make that decision soon enough, whether it was safer for him with her.

  *

  It was time to meet with Fiedra, but she still had no means available for making her way around. She got lost whenever she left her apartments. But right now she had to find Fiedra's apartments, or at least find someone who could direct her.

  Turning the corner, she walked down an unfamiliar hall to be met by a person coming the other way, someone wearing black and walking swiftly. She stopped, as did the other person. It was Roisen Lorcan. It seemed he had returned and he eyed her suspiciously, disapproval showing clearly on his down-drawn mouth. He certainly made no attempts to be cordial, looking down on her like she was consuming air that belonged to him. In his book, she, and her kind, didn't belong here.

  Ashra’s instinct was to turn around and leave, feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny. His blond hair shone in the muted light of the hall. It was impossible to tell whether it was day or night in these halls.

  "Lady Greve," he said, his voice merely expressing an observation.

  How had she walked the wrong way, come close to Lorcan's apartments? "I seem to be lost," she admitted.

  He didn't say anything only stared at her, making no attempts to be cordial or helpful.

  "Perhaps you should retrace your steps," was all he said and walked past. Ashra felt the air currents shift as he moved past her. He didn't smile throughout and now seemed to have dismissed her entirely. No doubt, she was utterly inconsequential in his book.

  Ashra knew Lorcan was one of the people who had during the war been brutal to her kind—one person she could firmly put in the enemy category. She had no idea what his intentions were, but if her lands were up for grabs, she couldn't see him not being interested. People like him never felt they had enough and wouldn't walk past an opportunity to expand on the wealth they sat on. What she didn't know, was how active he would be in pursuing them. To some degree, he was more honest than others; he didn't even pretend to be friendly or remotely welcoming.

  Ashra kept walking until she came across a page cleaning a mirror along the walls. "Please, I need to find Lady Vaultier's
apartments," she said, to the girl who looked uncomfortable being spoken to.

  The girl turned and dropped her duster, seeming to think the problem through. She proceeded to give directions, but Ashra lost track after the tenth item. There was a courtyard, she recalled, and at that point, she would have to find someone else to direct her. Was she ever going to find her way in this massive citadel?

  Taking a set of stone stairs down, she came across a window, but she couldn't make out which direction she was looking in. She did however, see a courtyard off to her right, but there was still a disturbing amount of obstacles to get there. At that moment she wished she could fly, just skip over the maze of buildings and land where she wanted to be.

  She continued walking downstairs endlessly, wondering if she had surpassed the level where the courtyard was. She heard a crash as she walked past an open door along the stone walls. The part she had reached had quite different architecture from the part where her apartments were. Perhaps that was the key to finding her way around, noting the different architectures of the haphazard components of the citadel.

  Someone swore and winced with pain, a male voice.

  "Are you alright in there?" she called. There were grumblings inside and she stepped in through the doorway. The space inside was messy, jumbled objects lining the walls, but she emerged in what looked like a workshop of some kind. A man sat clasping his hand. "Damn thing," he grumbled. He was an elderly man with the darker colorings of a Solmnite. A jug of some kind had toppled on the floor, liquid spilling. There was also smoke, as if the liquid was eating the stone itself. "Are you all right?" she asked, which apparently startled the man as if he hadn't noticed her coming in.

  "Nothing to worry about," he said. He sounded vaguely familiar and when he looked up, she saw it was Mr. Liesdal, a scholar of some repute in old Solmna. He was different, an old man now. “Mr. Liesdal,” she said and he looked at her, but didn't recognize her. Perhaps that wasn't surprising; he had never been completely sane, as far as Ashra knew. "Can I help you?" she asked.

  "No no," he said. "Well, maybe. There is some sawdust over there," he said, pointing to a pail.

  Ashra went to grab it and brought it over. "Are you brewing a potion?"

  "Yes," he said, "but it is a tricky one. Quite explosive, in some way."

  Ashra spread sawdust on the liquid, letting it soak through. If it was consuming stone it would consume the sawdust as well, but enough sawdust should see it diluted enough to be disposed of.

  "And who are you?" he asked.

  "Ashra," she said. "Ashra Greve." With him, she felt somewhat embarrassed using her title. It was a Naufren construct and she felt a little disloyal claiming it.

  "Greve," he said as if trying to place the name. "A noble family, I believe," he said.

  "Yes, my husband’s family," she said. "Late husband."

  "I see" he said. If he disapproved, he didn’t say it. Some Solmnites were still heavily anti Naufren, while others saw it as good fortune to advance in their society.

  "Have you lived in the citadel long?" she asked

  He checked his watch on his wrist, as if that would tell him. "I have always lived here, although the changes have made it unrecognizable. I have nowhere else to go," he admitted. "Not sure I would be allowed to leave, even if I wanted to. Who are you, again?"

  He didn't remember her name from a minute ago.

  "Would you like some tea?" he asked.

  "No, I'm afraid I can't. I'm here by happenstance, and I need to make my way to an appointment. I heard you cry out."

  "I see," he said. "No bother. Nice to make a new acquaintance, I suppose. One rarely sees new people here."

  Ashra smiled, trying to assure the man that she meant no harm.

  "Where is that potion?" he asked, turning as he looked around as if he'd misplaced it.

  "I think it's spilt on the floor," Ashra said.

  He looked down, seeing the sawdust on the floor. "Oh, that is a shame. I have to start all over again."

  Chapter 8:

  * * *

  Fiedra's apartments were cold but sumptuously decorated. The floors were of an icy blue marble, almost like frozen water. Gauzy white curtains flowed, showing the air currents that flowed through the rooms. Paintings lined the walls, generations of her husband’s family. The ceilings were very high and Ashra's steps echoed as she walked further into the apartments, toward where she could hear chatter.

  Women sat around a coffee table on white settees, their gowns artfully displayed. Now that she looked, she saw that all furniture was white. It gave the space a very cold feeling, to go along with the low temperature. Fiedra wore a dark blue gown, her pale arms gracefully folded in her lap.

  "Lady Greve," Fiedra said brightly, with a hint of surprise in her voice. Did she doubt Ashra would come?

  "Lady Vaultier," Ashra said in an equally bright tone. "Thank you again for this wonderful invitation." Ashra took a spare seat and eyed the silver tea service. They were having tea. Anything warm would be welcome. Fiedra seemed unbothered by the cold, it seemed. Or did she keep it so to make her guests uncomfortable, Ashra wondered. Perhaps she was just cold blooded?

  "You know Madame Roenbaum, of course," Fiedra said, introducing the women around the low table. "Lady Aia Fuedes, Lady Minet Corston and, of course, the indomitable Fushia Ghishka." Ashra had seen these ladies, but had never met them.

  They all considered her with cold interest. Hardly a welcoming group, but that was fine. Ashra wasn't here to make friends. None of them were remotely close to someone she would ever view as a friend.

  "Would you like tea?" Fiedra asked.

  "I would love one."

  All were silent as Fiedra poured a tea into an icy blue china cup, with remarkable similar color to the floor. Even though steam rose from the cup, it almost surprised Ashra that it was warm when she accepted it. Silence continued until she took a sip and for a moment, she hesitated, wondering if it was poisoned. An irrational thought, perhaps, but she couldn't ignore that it had fleeted through her mind. It tasted like tea.

  "Such an interesting week," Aia Fuedes said, her hair elaborately formed on top of her head. She had a little snub nose that made it seem as if she looked down on everything. "Amethyst is back, of course, darling Amethyst."

  "Unfortunately she couldn't come today," Fiedra said. "Still settling in. It is a tiresome journey from what I understand."

  Ashra wasn't sure who this woman was that they were talking about.

  "She has been missed, of course," the Corston woman said, but there was the tiniest hint of downturned corners to her mouth and an amusement about it.

  "No doubt, she's been recalled to do her duty," Ghishka said tartly and Fiedra tsked her, but she looked unrepentant.

  "Trust anyone to be cold, it would be Amethyst," Corston said as if delighting in the statement. Ghishka laughed.

  "Ladies, ungenerous," Fiedra chided, but not terribly forcefully. She turned her attention to Ashra. "And how are you finding your apartments? I understand it you never came before."

  "I did not. The apartments are well appointed. There are, of course, constant reminders of my husband, which are painful."

  The women watched her without expression, as if they were studying her, trying to make up their minds about what kind of creature she was. Perhaps she was a novelty, but she knew that some of these women were unlikely to approve of her by the nature of her birth. Ashra could imagine the vicious things they would have said about her when Torunn's marriage had become known. She couldn't image it wasn't commented on.

  Once, she had met one of these women, a Lady Gibbon in one of the villages, before Ashra had married, and the woman had called her a beast and demanded she get out of the way. It had shocked Ashra at the time, even though she had heard about these people's blatant disregard. Did these women, hidden behind their polite smiles, think her a beast? They kept their tongues quiet if they did, or said it behind her back.

  They lost interest
in Ashra and turned their attention away. "I always suspected it was Lorcan that sent her away. The liege always liked her, so I am sure it wasn't his insistence that caused her absence."

  Ashra's attention sharpened. Amethyst must be Lorcan's wife, who had returned with him after his absence.

  "I can't see Amethyst asking to be sent away, shut away out in the middle of nowhere without anyone to talk to," Lady Fuedes said with a visible shudder. "Poor thing. She must be starved for company."

  "Perhaps Lorcan was punishing her," Corston said.

  "As he should," Ghishka contributed pointedly.

  "Well, nothing happens if man and wife are apart, does it?" Madame Roenbaum said.

  "Her position is going to be decidedly precarious if she doesn't produce," Ghishka said. Produce? Did they mean an heir? Had Lorcan no children?

  As little as Ashra knew about the matters of importance amongst this society, heirs were of supreme importance. What did that mean? Did that make Lorcan more or less of a threat? Was there a point in taking more land if there was no heir? Was she safe from Lorcan?

  "What does happen if he doesn't produce?" Ashra asked. It was a reasonable question, she thought. The women stared at her.

  "I think the question is more what happens to Amethyst if she doesn't produce," Ghishka said. Ghishka was the most vitriolic of the lot in relation to Amethyst, and Ashra suspected there was history there. Or was she simply mean-spirited? Corston seemed simply mean-spirited.

  "He must produce," Fiedra said. "If the marriage cannot, then at some point, it must be dissolved. Getting a divorce through Raufasger is near impossible, but Lorcan will eventually plead his case."