Read Online An Embarrassment of Riches by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online Page B

nothing more to say. “Csenge of Somogy, I asked you a question.”
    The ringing in her ears was louder; Csenge saw spangles around the center of her gaze, and as her queasiness grew worse, she put her hand to her mouth. “Pardon, dear Royal. I fear I am about to be sick,” she said, and without ceremony, stumbled up from her chair and hurried unsteadily out of the solarium, making for her small room on the floor below. All but tumbling down the steep staircase, she leaned against the wall as she rushed for her apartment. She found the chamber-pot just in time, and when she had vomited into it, she remained on her knees, panting, trying to stop the clamor in her head. She was astonished by what she had done; what would the Konige make of her flight? She might well be offended that Csenge had not answered her. Perhaps she would order her to absent herself from the Konige’s Court. If that were to happen, how would she reestablish her position with Kunigunde? What would her husband say when he learned of what she had done?
    A soft knock on the door warned of the arrival of Imbolya, with whom she shared the cell-like room. “Cousin Csenge? Are you all right?”
    “I will need a house-slave to—”
    “—remove the chamber-pot, yes. I’ve sent for one of them already.” Imbolya opened the door a crack; the wedge of light this admitted made Csenge’s eyes burn. “Do you want water, or wine, or apple cider?”
    Just the mention of these made Csenge’s stomach clench. “Not now.”
    “Then a damp cloth for your forehead? Would you like me to get a potion for you from Klotild?” Imbolya sounded so sympathetic that Csenge ground her teeth.
    “Don’t bother. I will be better presently. Attend to the Konige.” She felt another cramp in her abdomen, and she shivered as her muscles tightened. “God and the Virgin!” she mumbled. “What’s happening to me?”
    “Are you certain you don’t need any help?” Imbolya persisted. “You don’t sound—”
    “I will be well shortly.”
    “Shall I send for Frater Lovre to aid you?”
    The thought of the half-blind monk patting at her with his flaccid hands sent another surge of nausea through Csenge. She swallowed convulsively. “I do not need anything,” she said with great precision. “I will be better if you leave me alone.”
    It took a long moment for Imbolya to accept this rebuke; she remained at the door, peering into the dark room. “Shall I come back later? ”
    “It is your room as well as mine; I can hardly keep you out.” She felt very, very tired. “Do as you think you must.”
    “I’m worried for you, cousin,” said Imbolya in a tone that meant she was worried for herself. “You are not well, and it may be that because of you, our Konige is not well. We are sworn to preserve her in health at all costs.” She stood very straight at the edge of the door. “Do let me come in. I can succor you.”
    “Not just now,” said Csenge. “I am still at some loss…” Her bowels twisted once more. “I’d like to think that…” She bent over and retched.
    Imbolya pushed the door open enough to see Csenge; the two stared at each other. “What am I to do, if you are so compromised?
    “You fear I have taken a contagion? Is that it?” Csenge demanded, putting the chamber-pot aside. “You think I should be moved out of the Konige’s Court until I recover, like Erzebet?” The very notion was intolerable, for once out of the Konige’s Court, she could as easily be replaced as allowed to return.
    “I … I … don’t know,” said Imbolya unhappily.
    “Then keep your thoughts to yourself,” snapped Csenge as she wiped her mouth.
    “But if the Konige should become ill—”
    “It is the heat,” said Csenge. “Everyone is suffering from it.”
    Imbolya hesitated, unwilling to go against her influential cousin, yet keenly aware of what she was required to do as a lady-in-waiting. Finally she put her hands to her eyes and wept with frustration.