“Ana. I’m glad you came.” Matarh smiled gently, and Ana felt the tension within her dissolve with the greeting. Abini set down the small trowel and spread her arms. Ana went to her, letting herself fall into the embrace, her matarh’s arms snug around her. Ana found herself crying, all unbidden; her matarh continued to hold her tightly. “Hush, child. Hush. .”
Ana sniffed and wiped at the betraying tears, pulling away slightly.
Tari and the young man were pointedly looking away from them. “You’ve engaged some new help,” she said.
“That’s Jacques, who works around the house and on the grounds, and we have a new cook as well, who makes the most wonderful soups.
They were both recommended to me by Vajica cu’Meredi-do you remember her? She’s used to call on us before. .” For a moment the old pain crossed her matarh’s face. “. . when your brothers were still alive and before I became sick. She’s made several calls to our house since you received your Marque. All this. .” Her matarh pressed her lips together, fine wrinkles gathering. “All this is because of you, Ana.
Everyone knows how the Archigos chose you personally, and that you tended to the poor Kraljica. .” She stopped then. “Tari, why don’t you have Cook make Ana something? Jacques, if you’d tend to the bushes in the rear garden. .”
They ducked their heads and left. Abini continued to hold Ana.
“You look so sad,” she said. “Is something wrong?”
Ana could only nod. She didn’t trust her voice.
“Is it the Kraljica? Her death was a shock to us all, and now there’s that horrible news come from Firenzcia about poor U’Teni Estraven ca’Cellibrecca being murdered; I used to enjoy his Admonitions. I hope they kill every last Numetodo in the city for what they did.”
The image of Karl, bound and silenced in the tower of the Bastida, came to her. So did the memory of seeing him, of his brief single kiss. .
“Matarh,” Ana interrupted. “Stop. Please.”
Abini’s eyes widened, and Ana kissed her cheek to soften the impact of the words. “I should have come to see you sooner, Matarh,” she said. “I wanted to. But. .” I couldn’t, because I was afraid he would be here. I couldn’t because of what we said to each other the last time. .
There was pain in her matarh’s eyes. “Ana, I thought about what you told me, and for a long time I was angry.”
“Angry with me, Matarh?”
Abini was shaking her head. She’d let go of Ana’s arms and returned her attention to the skyblooms. Her fingers fluffed the petals idly. “Tomas told me about what happened the time you came here,
when. .” She stopped, sighing. “Tomas told me that he said something to you that made you angry, and there was an accident. He said the Ilmodo is so strong in you, which is why the Archigos chose you, and that you couldn’t control it.”
“No, Matarh. That’s not why. Vatarh-”
“Hush, Daughter!” Abini said sharply, turning back to her. Her eyes were wide again. Her fingers touched Ana’s mouth, trembling. “Don’t say anything, Ana. Please. Tomas. . he could have left me after I became sick, but he didn’t. No matter what you think of him, no matter what. .” She paused, her lips pressing together before she began again.
“He’s not a horrible man. He’s flawed, yes, but he lost his sons and thought he had lost a wife, and the struggle he had to keep our family as cu’. . In his heart, I truly believe he didn’t intend to hurt anyone, Ana.”
“And that forgives him?” Ana could not keep the anger from her voice. “That makes everything all right for you?”
“No,” she answered. Her gaze grew hard. “It doesn’t. It’s why. . it’s why he’s not here anymore. He may never be here again.” She brought Ana to her once more; Ana resisted for a moment, then let
herself fall stiffly into the embrace. “I confronted him, Ana. I told him what you said. He denied it at first, but he. . he couldn’t look at me.”
She looked away herself, blinking away tears, then hugged Ana tightly again. “I know, and I’m terribly sorry for what he did to you, but I don’t want to talk about this, Ana. Not now when I finally have you here.”
Abini’s voice whispered in her ear. “Let’s talk about you. Tell me how things are for you.”
Talking about Vatarh is talking about me, she wanted to say to her matarh. He is part of why I am the way I am. But she could not. She sighed. You’ve kept it inside this long. If that’s the price you must pay to have Matarh back, pay it. Pay it and be grateful.
She didn’t know what to say. Too many things pushed at her, but she was afraid to talk of Karl, and if she could not speak of Vatarh. .
“I’m having luncheon with Kraljiki Justi tomorrow,” she said finally.
“The Archigos, he feels that I-” She stopped as Tari entered the room again, placing a tray down on a low table. Fragrant steam wafted from two bowls there; wine purpled twin goblets. Tari bowed at the two of them and left. Abini gestured toward the chairs.
“Sit,” Abini said. “Let’s talk as we eat.” As they sat, as Ana took a spoonful of the soup, Abini looked at her curiously. “The Kraljiki will be looking for a wife,” she said. “It’s what everyone is talking about. Even Vajica cu’Meredi mentioned it. . and you. You’re in much of the gossip I hear now, Ana.”
“It’s not what I would want, Matarh,” Ana said. She set the spoon down; it clattered too loudly on the porcelain.
Abini smiled sadly. “Ana. When did you ever believe that marriage is what someone who is ca’-and-cu’ might ‘want’ it to be?” she asked gently. “We’re not the unranked, who can marry whomever they want because it doesn’t matter. Love isn’t a necessary element for a marriage, Ana; you know that. Love comes later, if it comes at all. If Cenzi Wills it.”
“Did it come for you, Matarh?”
The smile vanished. “No,” she answered. “I always respected your vatarh, and he always respected me.” The frown deepened. “At least until my illness. Until what he did with you.”
“Why did you marry him? You’ve never told me.”
“I never told you because you were too young at first, then the Southern Fever took me away when I might have sat with you and explained how things are for a young woman.” She smiled again. “But now I can tell you. His family came to my vatarh and matarh. They offered a substantial wedding price; the cu’Seranta name was considered to be on the rise; your great-vatarh even thought that the Gardes a’Liste might name us ca’ once, though that turned out to be a vain hope after Vatarh died, only two years after my marriage. Still, Tomas kept the require-ments of our contract. Our marriage was what it needed to be. But did we come to love each other?” Her head moved from side to side. She stared at her soup. “No.”
“Did you ever love someone?”
Abini’s smile returned, faint and tentative. “You did,” Ana said, and the realization made her suddenly feel one with her matarh. “You loved someone. And did you give in to it?” she asked.
Abini glanced out toward the grounds. “Yes,” she said, so quietly that Ana leaned forward to hear her. “Once.”
“Who? Tell me, Matarh. Who was it, and did you. .?”
“You can never tell your vatarh.”
Ana sniffed. “That’s an easy promise. I don’t intend to ever see him again.”
Abini’s face colored, and Ana didn’t know if it was because of her remark or because of the memory of her matarh’s indiscretion. “I won’t tell you who it was-you would know the name. But. .” Abini leaned back in her chair. Her eyes closed. Her mouth opened slightly. “What caught me first was the smell of him: sweetnut perfume. The perfume smelled so different on him, and then I turned to look, and he was looking right at me. I remember that best of all-the shock of our gazes meeting that first time. I was much younger then, of course, and I’d recovered my figure after Estravi’s birth.” Her eyes opened. “Do you hate me, knowing that I was married already, that I was already a matarh?”