The Winter King
Page 80
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Only with Lady Melle Firkin was Kham able to relax. The wife of Lord Chancellor Barsul Firkin had kind eyes, a warm smile, and a disarming way of putting Khamsin completely at ease. Within the first half hour of the luncheon, Lady Firkin’s polite, deferential use of titles gave way to “my dear” this and “my dear” that.
With any other person, Khamsin might have stiffened up and drawn away from such familiarity, but she couldn’t bring herself to rebuke the elderly woman for speaking to her more like a daughter than a queen, especially when the lady confessed, “Lord Firkin and I had a daughter, Astrid. She died of lung fever when she was seventeen. You remind me of her. She had the same fire in her eyes that you do. She never backed down from anything, even things that frightened her.” Then she patted Khamsin’s hand, smiled, and said, “I have a good feeling about you, my dear. I think you may be just what our king and this court has needed for a long time.”
“Thank you, Lady Firkin,” Khamsin said with a small, genuine smile.
“Please, call me Lady Melle. I’m not much of one for standing on formalities. I hope you don’t mind. The king has been like a son to Lord Barsul and me. We helped raise young Prince Garrick after their parents died.”
“How did the king’s parents die?”
“Frost Giant attack. Such a tragedy. Wynter barely escaped with his life. And then to take the throne so young. He wasn’t even sixteen. Such a burden for a boy to shoulder, especially when some took his youth as a sign of weakness. But weakness is a trait no one who knows him would ever associate with Wynter of the Craig.”
“No, I would imagine not,” Kham agreed. She started to ask Lady Melle more questions about the man she’d married, but Lady Wyle came up and asked Lady Melle to join a card game. Lady Wyle invited Khamsin to join as well, but the lady’s insincere smirk of a smile and too-watchful eyes made Kham decline.
“No, please go on. I don’t play cards.” Most court card games required four or more to play, so Kham, always alone, had never had the opportunity to learn. And the last thing she wanted to do when her sisters and brothers had snuck up to visit her was while away their precious, purloined time with card games.
It didn’t take long for Khamsin to regret letting Lady Melle leave her side. Sitting alone, without Lady Melle’s warm presence to buffer her, she was acutely aware of the Winterladies watching her every move, many of them sly-eyed, sumptuously gowned adversaries waiting for the first sign of weakness.
Tension coiled inside her. Sitting still for any length of time had never been easy for her, and sitting there while her every move was watched and measured was indescribably unpleasant. She was a child of the elements, accustomed to doing as she pleased and running free through the abandoned towers of the King’s Keep. She wasn’t made to sit for hours on end, confined and coiffed, surrounded by women whose conversation revolved around fashion, running households, and raising children. Kham would much rather be outside with the men, watching them train with their weapons—better yet, swinging a sword of her own. Falcon had often practiced with her, and those were some of the happiest times of life.
Her foot started tapping. Conversation dwindled. Ladies cast sidelong glances her way. She jammed her feet against the ground and kept them there.
Conversation resumed. More baby talk. More discussion of ribbons. One of the ladies had a new maid to dress her hair, and wasn’t she doing a splendid job?
Kham’s fingers began to drum restlessly against the armrests of her chair.
The lady with the hairdressing maid glanced Kham’s way, bit her lip, and fell silent.
Kham clutched the armrests as if her life depended on it.
Outside, the thin clouds that had gathered during the luncheon grew heavy and dark.
“Oh, dear.” Lady Ros glanced out at the rapidly darkening sky. “It looks like we’re in for a bit of a storm.”
“That came up fast,” another woman murmured. “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky this morning.”
Now they were going to talk about the weather? Kham leapt to her feet, unable to bear it any longer.
All the Winterladies rose as well and looked her way. “I have a bit of a headache,” Kham lied, working hard to keep the bark out of her voice. “I think I’ll go for a walk outside.”
Lady Melle cast a glance out the windows, where rain had begun to fall. “A walk, my dear? In the cold and rain?”
“I like the rain,” Kham snapped, and the shocked, hurt look on Lady Melle’s face made her feel like a brute. She took a breath, forcing down her temper. “I’m sorry. This headache has me on edge. But I do like the rain, and the cold doesn’t bother me.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Lady Melle’s polite use of Khamsin’s honorific instead of the warm, maternal “my dear” made Kham feel even worse. The white-haired lady waved to one of the footmen. “Send for our maids, Gunter. We need oiled jackets and rainshades. The queen wishes to go for a walk.”
“No. Gunter, wait.” Kham held up a staying hand. “Lady Melle, none of you need to come with me. Stay here inside where it’s warm.” Lady Melle had a surprisingly stubborn look in her eyes, so Kham moved closer and dropped her voice to a low whisper to admit, “This morning has been just a little . . . overwhelming. I need some time to myself.”
And then, because it suddenly occurred to her that Lady Melle’s determination to accompany her stemmed from reasons other than politeness and court etiquette, she added, “I won’t go far. I’ll keep to the gardens you can see from these windows.”
With any other person, Khamsin might have stiffened up and drawn away from such familiarity, but she couldn’t bring herself to rebuke the elderly woman for speaking to her more like a daughter than a queen, especially when the lady confessed, “Lord Firkin and I had a daughter, Astrid. She died of lung fever when she was seventeen. You remind me of her. She had the same fire in her eyes that you do. She never backed down from anything, even things that frightened her.” Then she patted Khamsin’s hand, smiled, and said, “I have a good feeling about you, my dear. I think you may be just what our king and this court has needed for a long time.”
“Thank you, Lady Firkin,” Khamsin said with a small, genuine smile.
“Please, call me Lady Melle. I’m not much of one for standing on formalities. I hope you don’t mind. The king has been like a son to Lord Barsul and me. We helped raise young Prince Garrick after their parents died.”
“How did the king’s parents die?”
“Frost Giant attack. Such a tragedy. Wynter barely escaped with his life. And then to take the throne so young. He wasn’t even sixteen. Such a burden for a boy to shoulder, especially when some took his youth as a sign of weakness. But weakness is a trait no one who knows him would ever associate with Wynter of the Craig.”
“No, I would imagine not,” Kham agreed. She started to ask Lady Melle more questions about the man she’d married, but Lady Wyle came up and asked Lady Melle to join a card game. Lady Wyle invited Khamsin to join as well, but the lady’s insincere smirk of a smile and too-watchful eyes made Kham decline.
“No, please go on. I don’t play cards.” Most court card games required four or more to play, so Kham, always alone, had never had the opportunity to learn. And the last thing she wanted to do when her sisters and brothers had snuck up to visit her was while away their precious, purloined time with card games.
It didn’t take long for Khamsin to regret letting Lady Melle leave her side. Sitting alone, without Lady Melle’s warm presence to buffer her, she was acutely aware of the Winterladies watching her every move, many of them sly-eyed, sumptuously gowned adversaries waiting for the first sign of weakness.
Tension coiled inside her. Sitting still for any length of time had never been easy for her, and sitting there while her every move was watched and measured was indescribably unpleasant. She was a child of the elements, accustomed to doing as she pleased and running free through the abandoned towers of the King’s Keep. She wasn’t made to sit for hours on end, confined and coiffed, surrounded by women whose conversation revolved around fashion, running households, and raising children. Kham would much rather be outside with the men, watching them train with their weapons—better yet, swinging a sword of her own. Falcon had often practiced with her, and those were some of the happiest times of life.
Her foot started tapping. Conversation dwindled. Ladies cast sidelong glances her way. She jammed her feet against the ground and kept them there.
Conversation resumed. More baby talk. More discussion of ribbons. One of the ladies had a new maid to dress her hair, and wasn’t she doing a splendid job?
Kham’s fingers began to drum restlessly against the armrests of her chair.
The lady with the hairdressing maid glanced Kham’s way, bit her lip, and fell silent.
Kham clutched the armrests as if her life depended on it.
Outside, the thin clouds that had gathered during the luncheon grew heavy and dark.
“Oh, dear.” Lady Ros glanced out at the rapidly darkening sky. “It looks like we’re in for a bit of a storm.”
“That came up fast,” another woman murmured. “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky this morning.”
Now they were going to talk about the weather? Kham leapt to her feet, unable to bear it any longer.
All the Winterladies rose as well and looked her way. “I have a bit of a headache,” Kham lied, working hard to keep the bark out of her voice. “I think I’ll go for a walk outside.”
Lady Melle cast a glance out the windows, where rain had begun to fall. “A walk, my dear? In the cold and rain?”
“I like the rain,” Kham snapped, and the shocked, hurt look on Lady Melle’s face made her feel like a brute. She took a breath, forcing down her temper. “I’m sorry. This headache has me on edge. But I do like the rain, and the cold doesn’t bother me.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Lady Melle’s polite use of Khamsin’s honorific instead of the warm, maternal “my dear” made Kham feel even worse. The white-haired lady waved to one of the footmen. “Send for our maids, Gunter. We need oiled jackets and rainshades. The queen wishes to go for a walk.”
“No. Gunter, wait.” Kham held up a staying hand. “Lady Melle, none of you need to come with me. Stay here inside where it’s warm.” Lady Melle had a surprisingly stubborn look in her eyes, so Kham moved closer and dropped her voice to a low whisper to admit, “This morning has been just a little . . . overwhelming. I need some time to myself.”
And then, because it suddenly occurred to her that Lady Melle’s determination to accompany her stemmed from reasons other than politeness and court etiquette, she added, “I won’t go far. I’ll keep to the gardens you can see from these windows.”
