Jay D. Blakeny The Sword, the Ring, and the Chalice 03 The Chalice

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She frowned. Colored glass. Fakes!
But Mradvior had strode over to cajole Gavril and paid her no heed. A group of
servants came in.
Some took Gavril away to don new clothes. The rest surrounded Pheresa.
Handling her as though she were a life-sized doll, they peeled off her cheap
gown and arrayed her in finery of heavy crimson silk.
Once the color had been richly breathtaking, but it was now sun-faded to a
pale coral. Pheresa saw the ripped seams that were pinned deftly to look
mended. She even saw the bloodstains on the skirt that a maid folded out of
sight.
Revulsion shivered through her. Who would save the clothing of a long-dead
corpse? These people were mad.
The gown was too large for her, but the servants tucked and pinned it at the
back and propped
Pheresa up in her chair. Jeweled slippers were placed on her pale, slender
feet, with rags stuffed into the toes to make them fit. The cheap, gaudy
necklace was fastened about her throat.
Gavril returned, beaming in good humor and looking handsome in an
old-fashioned tunic of rich green and a jaunty fur cap. Swaggering about with
Tanengard on his hip, he flicked Pheresa s cheek with his fingertip while
servants positioned a chair for him next to hers.
Seating himself, Gavril smiled as the servants unrolled a dusty red carpet
across the battered floor. A
dingy piece of needlework in a hoop was placed in Pheresa s lap. She glared at
it, wishing she could fling it across the room.
His head cocked, Mradvior studied them before ordering the servants to add
more props to the tableau he was creating.
Angered by the indignity of this situation, Pheresa turned her head
fractionally to the side. Gavril, she said with all the sharpness she
possessed, what is this about?
Why, my lady, at last we re to be paid the respect due us, Gavril said
pleasantly. He smiled at her with a charm that once would have melted her
heart. The Netheran court comes to visit us today. Is this not a pretty
reception we re going to provide? Over there will be refreshments. I asked
Mradvior for musicians, but he said they will come later.
She frowned. This isn t a reception. We re
Ah, look! I hear the first guests arriving. Gavril patted her hand. How
pretty you look, my dear.
That gown is much more becoming than what you ve been wearing. As soon as we
are wed, you must make an effort to keep up with fashions, even set them.
Learn to do better, Pheresa. I consider attire important.
She wanted to scream at him, but he wouldn t have understood. The emptiness in
his eyes made her despair. She had never felt more helpless or alone. With all
her heart she wished she could turn back time to that night of the Harvest
Ball at Savroix, when Dain had humbly offered her his heart. Enslaved to duty
and responsibilities, she d turned away from him to accept Gavril s offer
instead. What a fine bargain she d made. Gavril, so arrogant and heartless;
Gavril, who hadn t given her a second s consideration until he saw that Dain
wanted her; Gavril, who had told her he would marry her provided she kept her
place and never interfered with his rule. She d wanted a kingdom. She d wanted
everything but love, and now she had nothing but a madman and a nightmare.
At the door came the babble of voices. Titters of laughter rang out, for the
Netheran courtiers had arrived. Swathed in furs and dusted with the snow that
was falling outside, the queen and her companions entered the gallery while
Mradvior bowed to them in welcome.
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My queen, lords, and ladies, he said cheerily. For your amusement, I
present a tableau ... Behold the court of Savroix.
Little dogs costumed as courtiers came trotting out to surround Pheresa and
Gavril. They yapped at her, and one of them urinated on the floor. The people
laughed.
Gavril bowed to them grandly. You are hereby made welcome, he proclaimed.
They laughed again, some applauding. Queen Neaglis a lean, intense woman with
black eyes set narrowly above a thin, pointed nose gazed around at the tawdry,
dirty room in disgust. When her eyes fell on Pheresa and Gavril, however, she
smiled.
Dressed in magnificent brown velvet trimmed in lyng fur with tippets of
islean, and carrying a matching muff over one arm, she walked forward with her
ladies in waiting.
Embarrassment filled Pheresa and she wished she could do something, anything
to drive these visitors away. Her helpless immobility so enraged her that she
prayed to Thod for the ability to hurl this filthy piece of needlework at the
nearest sneering face. Trapped and humiliated, she was forced to sit there
while the queen approached her.
Still smiling with amused contempt, Queen Neaglis stared first at Gavril, then
at Pheresa. One of her gloved hands made a little gesture, and her ladies in
waiting gave mock curtsies to the Mandrian prince and his lady.
Mradvior hovered at her elbow. Your majesty, I present Prince Gavril of
Mandria.
Gavril stood up and bowed to the queen. I am honored, your majesty. May I
present my intended bride, Lady Pheresa du Lindier.
The queen s dark eyes were very cold. Stripping off her gloves and giving them
to a companion to hold, she glanced at Mradvior. Quite amusing, my lord.
He smiled back in gratification. Thank you. Twas but a simple idea to while [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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