The King's Blood(140)

“He’s no cunning man,” the first man said. “I’ve known cunning men. Half of them couldn’t magic up a fart. Palliako’s something else, and we’re damned lucky to have him on the throne. Damned lucky.”

“No one else could have seen through Kalliam,” the man with the white mustache said. “I sure as hell didn’t. And you know what else no one talks about? Kalliam’s advisors? They were all Timzinae. Now you tell me that’s coincidence.”

Cithrin listened, her hand around her mug. She forgot to drink from it. Instead, she listened to story pile upon story pile upon story as Geder Palliako grew toward legend.





Clara



T

he soldiers came with an edict from the Lord Regent. It wasn’t that Clara had expected it, so much as that she wasn’t surprised when it happened. Indeed, there was a level on which it was a relief. The long days of anticipation after Dawson’s capture had been perverse in their normalcy. Waking in her room without him, speaking with the servants and the slaves, walking through the gardens. It was the same routine that she’d kept while he was away leading the war on Geder’s behalf. Only instead, her husband was in the gaol. The anticipation of consequences had been so terrible that when the first one came, it felt almost like relief.

She stood in the courtyard before the house as they took her things away. The bed that her children had been conceived and born in. The violets from her solarium. Her gowns and dresses. Dawson’s hunting dogs, whining and looking confused on the thin leather leads. She had a purse of her own and a bag she’d put together during the grace period the captain had allowed her. It wasn’t in the order. If he’d lifted her on his shoulder and thrown her to the street, he would have been within the letter of Geder Palliako’s law. He hadn’t, and she was grateful.

“They can’t do this,” Jorey said. His voice was tight as a violin string. Outrage made him taut.

“Of course they can, dear,” Clara said. “You didn’t think they would let us go on living the way we’d been, did you? We’re disgraced.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I did, though, she thought. I loved your father. And that is a treason in which I persist. She didn’t say it. Only took her youngest son by the hand and led him away.

The staff of the mansion, servants and slaves, stood at the street, their personal belongings in their hands. They looked like survivors of a cataclysm. Clara went to them, their mistress for the last time. Andrash still had the chain around his neck; his eyes were wide and horrified. Clara raised her hands.

“I am afraid that, as I think you’ve seen, the needs of the house have been somewhat reduced,” she said. There were tears in her eyes, and she clenched her jaw against them.

Lift your chin, she told herself. Smile. There, like that.

“If you have been a slave of the house, I release you from your indenture. I hope your freedom treats you at least as well as your captivity has. If you have been a paid servant, I can offer letters of recommendation, but I’m afraid they may not carry much weight.”

Someone was sobbing in the back. One of the cook’s girls, Clara thought.

“Don’t be afraid,” Clara said. “You will all find your new places in the world. This is unpleasant. Painful, even. But it is not the end. Not for any of us. Thank you all very, very much for the work you’ve done here. I am very proud to have had such wonderful people working for me, and I will remember all of you fondly.”

It took the better part of an hour, going through the whole crowd, saying her goodbyes to each of them in turn. Especially at the end, they kept wanting to embrace her and swear that they’d always be loyal to her. It was sweet, and she hoped at least some of it was true. She was going to need allies in the days ahead. She wasn’t in a position to turn away the kind opinion of a third footman.

Jorey slung her bag over his shoulder and took her arm. They walked through the streets together. She stopped at a corner stand and bought candied violets from an old Tralgu man with a missing foot. The petals softened against her tongue as the sugar melted. She steered them south, toward the Silver Bridge. Lord Skestinin’s house was on the opposite side of the Division, and Sabiha, bless the girl, had gone ahead to see that they were made welcome.

“I think this must be seen as an indication that your father will be called to account soon,” she said. “This won’t be easy.”

“You don’t have to worry, Mother,” he said. “I won’t disgrace him. He won’t have to stand alone.”