State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(119)
“Where do I go? I’ve been thinking about it, ever since the Gathering. The Winter Palace won’t ever be my home, will it? You’ve made that very clear. You don’t want me in your life. And Lord Vespus is done with me. He told me you’re going to win. So, answer me. Where do I go?”
“He what?” Sorrow was stunned. “Mael…”
“Every time I have something it’s taken away.” He sounded like a little boy then, and something cracked inside Sorrow, shame spilling out of it. “I lost Beliss, and my home in Rhylla, and I thought it was all worth it, because I’d have a family here. Then my father died the day after – the day after –” he paused, pressing his palms to his eyes “– I met him. And Lord Vespus…” He paused, shaking his head. “And I have tried throughout all of this to build a relationship with you because I thought when it was over we…” He shocked Sorrow as he hit himself, one, two, three times in the face with the heel of his hand. “I thought I could come home. But it’s like Lord Vespus says, I don’t have a home. I’m nothing. I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Mael,” Sorrow whispered, as her heart broke for him. And for herself. Because she realized then she’d behaved exactly as Harun had. All the fears of her bad blood stood manifest before her, broken by her. She was as bad as he was. “I’m so sorry…”
Footsteps behind made her turn, as Irris and Arta caught up with them.
When she looked back, Mael was gone, and Arta hurried after him.
“Come on, Sorrow.” Irris took her by the arm and pulled her away. “Come on.”
It Falls the Way it Leans
Sorrow didn’t celebrate that night. Because the election was the following day, and the results would be announced in Istevar, they returned to the Winter Palace, but she declined Irris’s suggestion that they order a lavish meal to her rooms, and instead she went straight to bed. The image of Mael’s wretched, shattered expression wouldn’t leave her; every time she blinked she could see it, the wildness there. The fear. Of being alone. Of having no one. Of being no one.
She’d done that to him. She, who knew better than anyone what it was like to mean so little to the people who were supposed to love you. But she hadn’t done it alone. What had Vespus said to Mael to break him so completely?
How much of the misery all of Rhannon had suffered lay at Vespus’s door?
It made her furious he was there, in the palace right now, secure in his status as ambassador once more. Sleeping under her roof, in her country. Not for long, she thought viciously. At least, not outside of a jail cell. One more day. Then she could have her revenge.
A bird tapped her window and she got out of bed, opening it. The hawk remained still as she took the letter from the bag attached to its foot, and then vanished into the night.
She expected it to be from Luvian, congratulating her.
But it was from Vespus.
Come to my room, was all it said, signed with a neat V.
There were guards outside all of the wings, to prevent them from trying to get to each other. But she could use the passageway. And she wanted to. She wanted to lash out. She wanted to let Vespus know he wasn’t as clever, or a sly, as he thought. That he didn’t have all the aces.
She didn’t stop to think, quickly dressing in a tunic and trousers, and turning her lamp on. Then she disappeared into her wardrobe, opened the passage and vanished into it.
Sorrow realized as the bureau moved she didn’t know which room was Vespus’s, but a hunch saw her knocking lightly at the door of Rasmus’s old room.
When it swung open and his father stood there, smiling as though she’d pleased him, she knew she was right.
He held the door open for her and she entered.
“Hello, Sorrow,” he said once the door had closed.
“What do you want?” Sorrow wouldn’t be polite. Not to him. Not any more.
He said nothing, moving to sit at Rasmus’s desk, where he’d obviously been before she arrived. There was a single candle on the table, beside a crystal flask full of clear liquid and two tumblers. Vespus’s eyes glittered as he looked at her.
“Won’t you have a seat?” he said, his Rhannish as perfect as ever. “Can I get you a drink?”
Sorrow eyed the flask. “If it’s Starwater, no, thank you.” She didn’t bother to use the Rhyllian form. “I’m aware of the consequences of it.”
“Are you now?” Vespus smiled silkily.
“I’m not here to play games, Lord Vespus. I’m tired of games. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. So let’s please not waste either of our nights with wordplay and sport. What do you want?” She said each word slowly, deliberately, holding his gaze.
“I want to make a deal with you.”
Sorrow laughed. “Are you joking?”
“Not in the least.” He poured himself a little of the liquid and drank.
“All right. Why?” she asked.
“You know why. A little bird told me you know.” He smirked. “Land, Sorrow. I want land in the north of Rhannon. Specifically the North Marches. The soil there is of exceptional quality, the light is good, the weather fair, but not too hot, and it’s close to the river. Irrigation would be easy. In short, the conditions are perfect for raising Alvus trees. Even someone without my ability could, with the right amount of expertize, do it.”