Dragon Bones (Hurog #1)(36)

"What I want to know is how Father knew that I was sleeping with the queen," said Beckram aggressively.

You don't sleep with her, was on the tip of Erdrick's tongue. But his brother didn't deal well with other people's humor, so he said, "He doesn't say anything about it," instead.

"He says he wants me to use my influence on the royal household to get the king to reinstate Ward."

Time to admit it. "Hmm, yes. Well, I thought that Father ought to know you were committing the family to treason. So he'd be prepared."

Beckram made a hissing sound. "The king doesn't care about that; she has not borne him, nor anyone else, an heir. He has Garranon and whoever else he can lure to his bed."

"Is that what she told you?"

Beckram gave one of his rare, real smiles. The ones that reminded Erdrick why he loved his twin. "No, it's what the king told me when he gave me permission to have her." He leaned back. "Although permission is the wrong word; it was more in the nature of an order."

Erdrick didn't know whether to be relieved or more worried. The king played deep games. "You'd best be careful."

Beckram nodded dismissively. "What I don't understand is why Father's so worried about Ward. Everyone knows that Ward is stupid - too stupid to run an estate like Hurog. Even for the Hurogmeten, miser though he was, it was difficult to survive from year to year. Still..." He hesitated. "I don't like Ward - "

Because, stupid as he is, he reminds you how you should act, instead of how you want to act, thought Erdrick.

"But I wouldn't want to see him confined to a room in the royal asylum. Could you see it? I think he'd kill someone out of sheer frustration. But surely some compromise can be reached. Father would take him in. Poor Tosten has probably been feeding the fishes for some time, courtesy of our dead uncle, which would leave Hurog to Father."

"Father doesn't want Hurog." Erdrick said, knowing it would be a surprise to his brother. Duraugh had always verbally accepted the Hurogmeten's assumption that Hurog was the apex of ambition, no matter what common sense might argue.

"What?"

"It frightens him. He says it's cursed. Do you remember Grandfather? Uncle Fen was worse. He will do his duty, but he really doesn't want it. Do you?"

Beckram thought about it and grimaced. "Being a Hurog lends a certain air to a person - sort of like owning a man-eating beast. Owning Hurog, though, won't do much for my love life. Can you see any woman wanting to live in that dismal place? And as the senior estate, it would fall to me, while you get Iftahar, which is richer and warmer." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "I'll talk to her."

Beckram shut the door behind him before he let his smile fall away. Though he would have cut his tongue out rather than admit it, he was worried about his affair with the queen, too. The queen's last lover had been found floating facedown in the small fountain in the central courtyard - a little fact the court gossips did not speak about.

Beckram didn't know what mistake the fool had made, but he was determined not to make the same one. He'd been very careful to stay out of politics. He never asked any favors. He never talked to anyone about the queen - except for Erdrick, and that didn't count - though, of course, everyone knew.

But surely asking her to reinstate Ward wasn't a favor - just the opposite. Hurog wasn't as bad as all that. Not many people would risk their lives to give it away. Risk their lives.

Who'd have thought he would risk his life for Ward?

Well, he decided, as he walked down the corridor to the garden door where the ladies all gathered with their favored gentlemen just before luncheon, he would never tell Ward. Ward liked to hug people who helped him, and Ward's hugs were neither dignified nor gentle. There was a lilt in Beckram's step. Risk his life; he liked that.

Tehedra Foehne Tallven, Queen of Tallven and the Five Kingdoms, lay back in her favorite corner of the garden and let her maid fiddle with her hair. The corner was isolated, almost out of view of the rest of the garden, and when she was in it, the rest of the ladies knew to leave her alone.

The sweet scent of the blossoming bush she'd never bothered to learn the name of was as soothing as her maid's hands. There had been one just like it outside her window at her childhood home, down to the pink tinge on edges of the white petals. With her eyes closed, she could almost hear her mother's scolding voice and her father's deeper, richer tones soothing her.

"Ah, my fair one sleeps the morning away."

Involuntarily, a smile caught her lips, but she let it widen into something more artificial as she opened her eyes. It would never do for the maid to report that her mistress looked upon her lover with tenderness.

"Beckram, my dear."

He smiled and let his eyes roll over her with admiration she suspected was partially true. He might be young, but she had the figure of a woman half her age. She wondered why the king had selected this one for her. Was he trying to test her? Onev hadn't been so young, though he'd been softer, less clever. It hadn't taken a full year before Jakoven had him killed. She hoped Beckram lasted longer. She wished she could save him, but she'd learned better a long time ago. So she would savor her enjoyment while it lasted and try not to grow too attached. It helped that he never talked of anything but nonsense. The one before Onev had liked sailing. She'd managed to forget his name after he'd disappeared, but she remembered that.