#bethira liddick

Bethira shut the door behind her with the gentlest, angriest of thuds. Elystan was still in her sitting room, still in his coat, sitting crossways on a chair with his boots on an end table, sulkily reading a medical book. He glanced up at her with a patient sigh. “Now may I go?”

“No, you may not. His Royal Highness and the Lockridge boy will not be waiting for you. They’ve been sent to the Liennese embassy.”

“But Mother! They’re my guests! You can’t send them away!”

“It was not my choice. Dr. Samwyl indicated over the telephone that his written instructions from King Odren were that his son and the companion were to remain at Hollingham during the Christmas holidays rather than returning to Lienne. He said nothing about sending him to us, so any visit here without his permission could be regarded as abduction.”

“They came perfectly willingly! I invited them, and they wanted to come, so I brought them. No tying anyone up, no ransom notes—how could it be an abduction?”

“He is the heir of a foreign power. He cannot do just anything while he is on Coregean soil. There is protocol to be considered—you know that. Remember when we went to [NATION]—no, you weren’t there for that. When we visited [NATION]—oh, not that time, either…”

“I’ve never been anywhere, Mother,” said Elystan with a dangerous calm. “You know that.”

“You could hardly travel while you were ill.”

“Then why did you always take these tours only when I was ill?”

When had he ever not been ill? But she couldn’t say that, not when he was in such a temper.

“That’s not important, darling. The point is that Josiah’s father is very powerful and important, and we can’t afford to offend him by seeming to appropriate his elder son without permission. If portrayed the wrong way, he might even take this as an act of war. So Josiah cannot remain here. He will stay at the embassy until I can straighten this out with the Liennese ambassador. Heaven only knows what Josiah has told him by now.”

“Some thanks I’m getting,” said Elystan, “after I went to all that trouble to take him somewhere nice for Christmas. He wanted to come!”

“Was it his idea?”

“Are you joking? He’s never had an original thought in his life. No, it was my plan from start to finish. Very generous of me, don’t you think?”

“Very foolish of you! Elystan Allister Philimond Talfrin Liddick, what—were—you—thinking?”

“I was—”

“You didn’t stop to think at all. You took a whim into your head, and you dragged those poor boys along with you without a second thought—not even stopping for their coats? Do you want them to catch their deaths of pneumonia? And now they’ve violated Hollingham rules and their King’s orders, and I’ve got a potential international incident on my hands!”

Elystan shrugged. “It’s just talking to people. How hard can that be?”

“Young man, this is not ‘just talking.’ This is diplomacy. I have to appease the ambassador so that he can appease Odren, and it just so happens that the ambassador has been chilly toward us ever since your brother turned down Princess Ateva last year, and it’s gotten even worse after [POLITICAL SITUATION], and if we don’t stay on their good side, we could lose [RESOURCE]. It will require supreme tact and perhaps some bargaining that may displace Sir Jowan and Parliament. And all because you couldn’t be bothered to stop a moment and consider what you were about to do!”

“That shouldn’t matter! I’m the king’s brother. I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. What’s Odren going to do to me—put me in prison? Not even you would dare. Who cares what the ambassador thinks? He’s nothing but a guest here himself. All you have to do if he won’t listen to reason is send him back home.”

“Have you learned nothing about how international relations function? We were raising you to be king one day. Your father was supposed to be teaching you these things. But I shouldn’t be surprised, with him.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Your father had no interest in raising you to be a dutiful king someday. He knew nothing about raising children. And he spoiled you, that’s what he did. I am shocked that any son of mine could be so selfish as to believe that he could violate serious protocol simply because he felt like it and expect that the crown would bail him out of any trouble. Well, that would have never happened if he had let me have a hand in your upbringing!”

Elystan’s lips trembled, but his face was bright red. “Oh yes, you would have made everything better! So much better that I probably would have died long ago if you had anything to do with it. I’d be bedridden at best right now, but wouldn’t that be so much better as long as I’m not spoiled? Are you mad? Father was harder on me than anyone. He never let me have anything because I was never well enough. And then the one time I want to have a few friends over for the hols, you treat me like I’m some sort of criminal.”

“Lienne very well might think you are, if we don’t handle this just right!”

“How could I possibly be a criminal? Do you know why I did this? I found out that they weren’t going to get to go home, and I felt sorry for them. Like some wretched philanthropist or something. I didn’t want them to be alone, with no family, while everyone else is off having the time of their lives—not that I know anything about that, of course. It was the thing to do, and I knew it immediately. I didn’t need to think. Call it a Christmas impulse. I was charitable, Mother. Aren’t you proud of your little boy? Not so spoiled, perhaps, hmm?”

“Perhaps not, but you were reckless and thoughtless.”

“Well, what would you have done?”

Those boys’ faces. Lost, confused. Bethira, as long as she had thought them ordinary Coregean schoolboys, had been ready to take them into her home and make them feel like family for the next several weeks.

Perhaps she would have gone about it more cautiously. But there was no way that she would have left those children behind either.

“I would have done the sensible thing,” she said. “And so should have you.”

“Father was right about you,” said Elystan. “You are a cold witch. I think he said ‘witch.’”

“Why, you—” Bethira took a breath. Steeled herself. Looked away from that smirk that had loomed over her from another face for so many years. “Elystan. You will go to your room. You will remain there until I send for you.”

“And what if I won’t go?”

“This is not a discussion. You will.”

“And who’s going to make me?”

“I will! Get out, Talfrin!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Forgot my name already?”

“You know who you are. Go.”

Amarantha knew what she had to do. She had planned this confrontation in detail ever since her disappointment at Queen Edella’s. She had eloquently argued for her restoration to a silently understanding and receptive opponent many times—in her own head. But now that the opportunity was staring her in the face—in the guise of Queen Bethira, with her dark blue eyes, like Elystan’s but gone cold—her nerve all but failed her.

“Please sit down, Amarantha,” said the Queen.

This was a surprise, a far cry from their last meeting, when Amarantha had been kept on her feet in shame. She sank down even before she had fully backed into a chair. Perhaps if she could demonstrate to the Queen that she was, after all, a good, obedient child whose record of slapping a prince on two separate occasions did not reflect her typical character, the Queen might listen to her when she pleaded her case.

If she could plead her case. Right now, she could barely choke out a polite thanks.

“I believe you have been informed of your mother’s whereabouts?” asked the Queen. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“She will be unable to care for you until she is released, and we have no official word yet on when that will be. Since you cannot remain in the royal household indefinitely, we shall arrange for what your mother intended and send you to your aunt. Your mother did mention where she lived, but I—had a great deal on my mind that night. Do you happen to know her address?”

Amarantha said she did. “But she lives in Dillings, ma’am. And aren’t all the trains to the South East stopped right now?”

The Queen clenched her jaw. “Yes. And sending you by carriage wouldn’t be feasible either. We’ll have to figure something else out.” She tapped a long, elegant fingernail on the arm of her chair—an impatient gesture that Amarantha recognized as Elystan’s. “What I don’t understand is why you are here. Surely you ought to be in school. Most schools start this time of year.”

Amarantha searched the Queen’s face for any sign of irony. She was the last person Amarantha would expect to make a joke at a time like this. And she wasn’t. No, that comment was a rebuke, a reminder to Amarantha that she had failed in some mysterious way even before The Slap. She would not be here, inconveniencing everyone and incurring the wrath of royalty, if she had been good enough to keep her Queen Edella’s scholarship.

Contrition was the best course of action. Amarantha hung her head. “Yes, ma’am. I ought to be in school. It’s my fault that I’m here instead.”

“And what exactly did you do that led to this truancy?”

The stern voice of a parent already aware of exactly what one had done but demanding that one reckon up one’s sins anyway—Amarantha knew it well. Why wasn’t Elystan more frightened of his mother? She was five feet of solid stabbing ice.

“I wish I knew, ma’am. I think it might be because I caused so much trouble. Not what happened recently”—The Slap was still too painful to specifically name—“but a long time ago. When I was little and I came to Endean. When I first met you. You must remember it quite well.”

“I do recall that,” said the Queen slowly. “But that can hardly be the reason that you are not at school now.”

Amarantha racked her brain for any other incident in which she could possibly have offended the Queen. Until their recent encounter, they had not seen each other since the visit to Endean. Amarantha had never even written to her directly. The scholarship had been arranged through Amarantha’s mother’s influence and a series of forms and applications. This had included an essay on Amarantha’s artistic aspirations, but she had so carefully worded it that no one could possibly have found offense with it, and besides, the application had been approved, initially. If there had been a problem with the essay, that would have prevented the approval in the first place.

“I don’t know what happened,” said Amarantha. “And if it’s not specifically because of what happened a long time ago, it’s—it’s because you just don’t like me.”

She gasped as the words came out, as if that could take them back, but the Queen didn’t rise up in outrage. If Amarantha hadn’t known better, she would have thought that she recognized hurt carved into that marble face.

“My girl,” she said, “I hardly know you. Why would I dislike you?”

“You were cross with me,” said Amarantha, “the first time we met. And of course you should have been, because I behaved badly. And perhaps you saw some of my letters to my mother, when I complained about her being gone so often. I know she has good reasons to be gone—I really did, and it was selfish of me to complain when she’s needed more here. And perhaps she told you about the kinds of things I say about—a certain person, and you were angry. I know—I mean, I hope my mother would be angry too if someone said awful things about me.”

“Amarantha—” said the Queen, almost in a whisper.

“And I was so grateful when you gave me the Queen Edella’s scholarship, and I was all ready to go, and I had my uniform and my trunk and everything, and I got all the way there, and they said my scholarship had been revoked, and—I suppose you must have remembered exactly who I was and decided I oughtn’t have it, and I’m so sorry, and I know I don’t deserve it, but what may I do to get the scholarship back?”

At the sound of footsteps Bethira flew to the door. After months of her fretting about her child alone and ailing amid the austerity of Hollingham life, the term had ended and her baby had returned to her. At last, both her boys were under one roof again. He had hardly stepped into the room before she caught him up and crushed him so close she could feel his wavering heart beat. His spine stiffened beneath her hands, but he did not struggle.

Nevertheless, she noted his shoulders relax and his breath slow when she released him. 

“Just look at you!” she said brightly. “So well already!”

School had not done him much discernible good. He was no taller, no less pale, hardly less gaunt than when she had sent him away in the autumn. But his eyes had a glint she hadn’t seen in a long time, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting a smile.

She didn’t know whether to be delighted or concerned.

“Happy Christmas, Mother!” he said. A disarmingly familiar grin lit up his face. “I have a surprise for you!”

“For me? You shouldn’t have, darling.” That was a warning, if he was canny enough to catch it. “What is it?” she added, dubiously.

Elystan trotted back to the door, poked his head out, and said in a loud whisper, “You can come in now!”

Bethira had mere seconds to register what that could mean before two boys inched into the room and stood at attention before her. They were about Elystan’s age, although both were taller, and unlike him they had neither overcoats nor hats, only travel-rumpled Hollingham uniforms. The tallest boy had something familiar about him, but Bethira had never seen either child before.

In unison, they sank halfway down on their left legs, right legs extended back and right hands over their hearts—a Liennese bow. “Your Majesty.”

She gestured for them to rise. The shorter boy kept his eyes averted, but the taller one met her gaze with steady dignity. His face was a peculiar color, and his lips were shut tight as if to hold something back.

Elystan had observed this spectacle with growing satisfaction. “I’ve brought my friends home, Mother. They haven’t anywhere else to go. Would you let some weary travelers in from the cold?”

Friends. He had made friends. Her temperamental little boy, who months ago hadn’t a playmate in the world except perhaps the little Melbray girl, had returned from Hollingham with two boys whose company he enjoyed so much that he had invited them to spend their holidays with him. School had done him good. This was such splendid progress that she was prepared to overlook his neglect to inform her of his intention.

“Would you introduce me to your little friends?” she asked.

“Of course! This is Tamett Lockridge. He’s from Noriber.” Elystan indicated the shorter boy, who bobbed his fair head and reddened when Bethira put a hand on his shoulder.

“My, you are a long way from home,” she said.

He murmured some sort of response but did not offer any further information.

“And this,” said Elystan, “is my dormitory neighbor—pardon me, what was your name again?”

A glower briefly crossed the taller boy’s face. “Your Majesty, I am Josiah of Lienne. I believe you know my father, King Odren?” he said in measured tones.

“I have had that pleasure, Your Royal Highness,” said Bethira. “But I regret I have received no word from your father indicating that he wished to favor us with the honor of a visit from you. Please forgive us. We would have had everything ready for you.”

“Your son extended the honor of an invitation moments before we departed Hollingham. The king my father has not yet been informed. I do not think the school was either.” Josiah eyed Elystan pointedly.

Elystan’s attention was suddenly diverted by the pattern of the carpet.

“Let me understand,” said Bethira. “Elystan invited you here without informing your father or the school? No one but ourselves knows that you boys are here right now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Josiah. “I wanted to telegraph my father from the station, but your son would not allow it.”

“I see,” said Bethira.

Elystan was intently digging the toe of his shoe into the carpet and would not meet her eye.

“I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness and Mr. Lockridge, for the abruptness of this invitation. I will see to it that Hollingham is informed of this new arrangement so that they will not worry and can be in contact with His Majesty. In the meantime, please make yourselves welcome. You will no doubt wish to change into something more comfortable—”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Josiah. “But your son brought us away in such a hurry that we had no time to pack or even bring our overcoats and hats.”

He shot another spiteful look at Elystan. Perhaps he would not have been so cross if he had not felt unwell. Bethira was almost sure of it. The journey had not agreed with him.