The Deepest Blue(63)
Her expression didn’t change. “And you see that, without ever having met me?”
“You’re our queen,” he said. “You bear the burden of the world. One of the guards, when I first asked to see you, said he couldn’t allow me to add to your sorrow.”
“This is a curious conversation,” the queen said. “I expected you to ask for my patronage. I am prepared to offer it, you know. Yet I don’t think that’s why you’re here. Why did my guard think you would add to my sorrow?” She’d brought him here to praise his work, he knew, perhaps commission more, which should be what any artist would dream of. But that’s not my dream, not now, he thought.
All he wanted was a return to the life he should have had, with Mayara.
“Because I have come to plead for my wife’s life,” Kelo said. “And he believed you wouldn’t grant me that. Your Majesty, I am an artist. A charm-maker. A craftsman. I spend my days making mobiles for newborns, to keep them safe and keep them calm and make them smile. I sew bits of shell onto dresses to make brides feel beautiful and loved. I carve runes onto ships and into houses to keep the spirits at bay and give people the hope that they’ll survive to see another dawn. I craft joy and hope, and I cannot do that if my joy and hope is gone.”
The queen’s face was unreadable.
The ruffle-wearing courtier looked oddly entertained.
Ignoring the courtier, Kelo dropped down to his knees before his queen. “Bring my wife home from the Island of Testing. Let others become heirs. Her destiny is with me. We’ve known it since we were children. We make each other better. We make each other whole.”
For a moment there was silence, and Kelo worried his audience was over. Then the queen spoke.
“You wish me to do this because your wife is your muse? That is one I haven’t heard.” She looked even more weary than she had before, and Kelo realized he’d done exactly what the guard had feared: he’d added to her sorrow. She’s going to say no.
He’d had so many words prepared. Fine, poetic words. He’d planned to convince her to save Mayara on behalf of true love. Before he’d hit on the idea of the shell carving, he’d planned to bring Mayara’s storm-ravaged wedding dress to sway her. He stood up, feeling his face burn. I was trying to manipulate her, he admitted to himself. But it was for Mayara. And it hadn’t worked. Yet. “Your city’s a mess,” he said bluntly.
“Excuse me?” The queen raised both eyebrows.
Perking up, the courtier said, “Ooh, that’s new. I like him.”
“Mother-of-pearl makes a terrible paving stone, and you can’t cover a city that’s exposed to wind and rain in it. It’s a tradition that may have made sense at the time it began, but it can’t withstand the test of time.” When the queen didn’t stop him, he continued. “The Island of Testing is the same way. It may have worked once, but now it’s just destroying all that is good and beautiful about your people. Everyone with power lives in fear, and so do their families. But it doesn’t have to be this way. You’re the queen! You can change it!”
The queen looked sorrowful. “It is the way it must be.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Liking him less now,” the courtier said. She looked at Kelo. “You do not tell the queen how to do her job. She’s the queen! She knows the extent and the limits of her power. You make pretty stuff and believe that grants you emotional and intellectual depth. Trust me—it doesn’t.”
The insults hit home. I’m failing. One chance, and I’m messing it up.
“Lady Garnah, be gentle with him,” the queen admonished. “He’s worried about his wife.” She favored him with a sympathetic smile.
“Bah. Everyone’s worried about someone,” the ruffled courtier, Lady Garnah, said. “Your pain is no more important than anyone else’s, young man. The queen cannot change the world to appease you. And you should know better than to ask her to.”
He bowed his head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. But if you know your people are suffering, then why don’t you fix it?”
“Because the world is more complicated than that,” Queen Asana said, her voice tired.
“End this audience, Your Majesty,” Lady Garnah said, rising. She patted down the ruffles of her skirt. “You don’t owe him any explanation. You’re queen. He’s not. End of story.” She turned to Kelo. “Many condolences. Much sympathy. And so forth. Please leave.”
Crushed, Kelo began to retreat. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. It truly was not my intent to add to your sorrow.” The guard was right. I failed. And I caused my queen pain. He knew little about being queen or about the decisions she had to make every day. He didn’t understand her burdens, other than to know they were there. Still, he looked to Queen Asana, hoping against hope that she’d change her mind in the last minute . . . and knowing that he had no right to believe in that hope.
“I mourn every death,” Queen Asana said as he neared the door. “And if it were within my power, every spirit sister would live long, beautiful lives, with their families around them. No one should ever have to be separated from a loved one.” She nodded at the carving he’d done. “I will treasure what you have made me, and hope that someday you will think better of me.”