“Stop it!” he snarled. His sister was always trying to make him smile, to force him to enjoy himself. Why couldn’t she see the trouble they were in—not just the family, but all of Southmarch? Could he really be the only one in the kingdom who understood how wretched things were?
“Kendrick wants us,” she said.
Barrick allowed himself to be pulled toward his elder brother’s chair— not the true throne, the Wolf’s Chair, which had been covered with velvet cloth when Olin left and not used since, but the second-best chair that previously stood at the head of the great dining table. The twins gently elbowed their way past a few courtiers anxious to snatch this moment with the prince regent. Barrick’s arm was throbbing. He wished he were out on the hillside again, riding by himself, far from these people. He hated them all, loathed everyone in the castle… except, he had to admit, his sister and brother … and perhaps Chaven…
“Lord Nynor tells me that the envoy from Hierosol will not be with us until almost the noon hour,” Kendrick announced as they approached.
“He said he was unwell after his voyage.” The ancient castellan looked worried, as always; the tip of his beard was chewed short—a truly disgusting habit, in Barrick’s opinion. “But one of the servants told me that he saw this envoy talking to Shaso earlier this morning. Arguing, if the lazy fellow is to be trusted, which he is not to be, necessarily.”
“That sounds ominous, Highness,” suggested the Duke of Summerfield.
Kendrick sighed. “They are both, from appearance, anyway, from the same southern lands,” he said patiently. “Shaso sees few of his own kind here in the cold north. They might have much to talk about.”
“And argue about, Highness?” Summerfield asked.
“The man is a servant of our father’s captor,” Kendrick pointed out. “That’s reason enough for Shaso to argue with the man, is it not?” He turned to the twins. “I know how little you both care for standing around, so you may go and I’ll send for you when this fellow from Hierosol finally graces us with his attendance.” He spoke lightly, but Barrick could see that he was not very happy with the envoy’s tardiness. His older brother, Barrick thought, was beginning to develop a monarchical impatience.
“Ah, Highness, I almost forgot.” Nynor snapped his fingers and one of his servants scuttled forward with a leather bag. “He gave me the letters he bears from your father and the so-called Lord Protector.” “Father’s letter?” Briony clapped her hands. “Read it to us!”
Kendrick had already broken the seal, the Eddon wolf and crescent of stars in deep red wax, and was squinting at the words. He shook his head. “Later, Briony.”
“But Kendrick… !” There was real anguish in her voice.
“Enough.” Her older brother looked distracted, but his voice said there would be no arguing. Barrick could feel the strain in Briony’s abrupt silence.
“What’s all that rumpus?” asked Gailon Tolly a moment later, looking around. Something was happening at the other end of the throne room, a stir among the courtiers.
“Look,” Briony whispered to her twin. “It’s Arissa’s maid.”
It was indeed, and Barrick’s sister was not the only one whispering. Now that the twins’ stepmother was close to giving birth, she seldom left her suite of rooms in the Tower of Spring. Selia, her maid, had become Queen Arissa’s envoy to the rest of the great castle, her ears and eyes. And as eyes went, even Barrick had to admit they were a most impressive pair.
“See her flounce.” Briony did not hide her disgust. “She walks like she’s got a rash on her backside and she wants to scratch it on something.”
“Please, Briony,” said the prince regent, but although the Duke of Summerfield looked dismayed by her rude remark, Kendrick was mostly amused Still, he had been distracted from the letter and was watching the maid’s approach as carefully as anyone else.
Selia was young but well-rounded. She wore her black hair piled high in the manner of the women of Devonis, the land of her and her mistress’ birth, but although she kept her long-lashed eyes downcast, there was little of the shy peasant girl about her. Barrick watched her walk with a kind of painful greed, but the maid, when she looked up, seemed to see only his brother, the prince regent.
Of course, Barrick thought. Why should she be any different than the rest of them…?
“If it please you, Highness.” She had been only a season in the marches, and still spoke with a thick Devonisian accent. “My mistress, your stepmother, sends her fond regarding and asks leave for talking to the royal physician.”
“Is she unwell again?” Kendrick truly was a kind man although none of them much liked their father’s second wife, even Barrick believed his brother’s concern was genuine.
“Some discomforting, Highness, yes.”
“Of course, we will have the physician attend our stepmother at once. Will you carry the message to him yourself?” Selia colored prettily. “I do not know this place so well yet.”
Briony made a noise of irritation, but Barrick spoke up. “I’ll take her, Kendrick.”
“Oh, that’s too much trouble for the poor girl,” Briony said loudly, “going all the way across to Chaven’s rooms. Let her go back to assist our suffering stepmother. Barrick and I will go.”
He looked at his twin in fury, and for a moment regretted putting her on the list of people he did not despise. “I can do it myself.”
“Go, the both of you, and argue somewhere else. “ Kendrick waved his hand. “Let me read these letters. Tell Chaven to see to our stepmother at once. You are both excused attendance until the noon hour.”
Listen to him, Barrick thought. He really does think he’s king.
Even accompanying the lovely Selia could not redeem Barrick’s mood, but he still took care to make sure that his bad arm, wrapped in the folds of his cloak, was on her opposite side as they went out of the throne room into the light of a gray autumn morning. As they descended the steps into the shadowed depths of Temple Square, four palace guards who had been finishing a morning meal hurried to fall in behind them, still chewing. Barrick caught the girl’s eye for a moment and she smiled shyly at him. He almost turned to make sure she was not looking over his shoulder at someone else.
“Thank you, Prince Barrick. You are very kind.” “Yes,” answered his twin. “He is.”
“And Princess Briony, of course.” The girl smiled a little more carefully, but if she was startled by the growl in Briony s voice she did not show it. “Both of you, so very kind.”
When they had passed through the Raven’s Gate and acknowledged the salutes of the guards there, Selia paused. “I go from here to the queen. You are certain I do not go with you?"
“Yes,” said Barrick’s sister. “We are certain.”
The girl made another courtesy and started off toward the Tower of Spring in the keep s outer wall. Barrick watched her walk.
“Ow!” he said. “Don’t push.”
“Your eyes are going to fall out of your head.” Briony hurried her stride and turned into the long street that wound along the wall of the keep. The people who saw the twins moved respectfully out of their way, but it was a crowded, busy road full of wagons and loud arguments, and many scarcely noticed them, or did their best to make it appear that way. King Olin’s court had never been as formal as his father’s, and the people of the castle were used to his children walking around the keep without fanfare, accompanied only by a few guards.
“You’re rude,” Barrick told his sister. “You act like a commoner.”