Read Online Power & Majesty by Tansy Rayner Roberts - Free Book Online
Authors: Tansy Rayner Roberts
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gosling. Nineteen and not married? “Spinster” is such an ugly word.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. ‘Everyone else refuses to be mean to me. It’s quite wretched of them.’
‘I’m sure your mother more than makes up for it,’ he said dryly.
‘Yes, well. The less said about that, the better.’ Isangell looked serious for a moment. ‘I’m glad you came. I need you here, in Aufleur.’
‘Because that worked out so well last time…’
Ashiol barely remembered the last few months of his time here, except that he had been sampling every mind-altering substance under the sun to blot out the pain ofwhat Garnet had done to him. He certainly hadn’t left the city on his own two feet.
‘You look good,’ said Isangell. ‘I mean, better than before.’
‘I worked out my demons.’ Potions and powders were so difficult to purchase in the provinces. Easier to do without. ‘I don’t know why you want me here,’ he said abruptly. ‘I mean, I know why—I know the role you want me to play. But I have four strapping younger brothers, all with blood as fine and Aufleurine as my own. None of them have the history I have with this city.’
None of them were cut down from a rope in the deepest wine cellar, gibbering about the man who had destroyed him.
‘I’m sure they’re lovely boys and your mother raised them well,’ said Isangell. ‘But I don’t know them, Ash. They never lived in the Palazzo. They never told me stories of saints and angels. They have no bad history with the city because it doesn’t know them at all. I want you. I need you here, by my side.’
And there was that voice, the one their grandmother had used to such effect when she wanted a thing done.
‘Well and fine,’ Ashiol muttered. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘You promised me a year.’
‘I’ll do my best to keep that promise.’ Not likely to go running with the cats and wolves in the street this time around. Garnet made sure of that.
‘Mother,’ Isangell said, in a different voice.
Ashiol steeled himself for the dour glare of his least favourite Aufleur matron. ‘Aunt Eglantine,’ he said politely.
‘Nephew,’ said Isangell’s mother. ‘Isangell, dear, you should be sleeping. You have only a few hours before we must prepare you for the festival.’
‘I was greeting my cousin,’ Isangell said impatiently. ‘It’s hardly worth sleeping now.’
‘It won’t do to look tired for the Floralia parade. Spring is about renewal.’
‘And cosmetick is a marvellous thing,’ said Isangell.
‘We were expecting you yesterday,’ Eglantine added, addressing Ashiol.
‘I like to make an entrance,’ he replied.
Eglantine gestured at the silent servant who had accompanied her into the atrium. ‘Armand will escort you to your chambers. Your festival costume awaits you. We had to guess at the measurements.’ She eyed his arms as if disapproving of the muscle he had put on in the last five years.
‘Your kindness overwhelms me, madame, as ever,’ said Ashiol. He dropped a wink at Isangell. ‘See you in the parade, gosling.’
His chambers were spacious enough, and about as far from Isangell’s rooms as one could get without actually being in the kitchens. Ashiol was amused by his aunt’s work. Eglantine had always been terrified that her rakish nephew would seduce her daughter, but he was a greater threat now that Isangell was of age and had the power to choose her own husband.
Ashiol had no words to describe to Eglantine how unlikely it was that he would ever desire to climb under Isangell’s skirts. Something to do with the fact that he had read her bedtime stories since she was three years old. The thought that Isangell might want him as a husband had likely given Ashiol as many nox terrors as it had Eglantine.
The festival costume was as appalling as Ashiol had feared, but he was grateful at least that it was not pink. The Floralia was one of those festivals designed to challenge one’s
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. ‘Everyone else refuses to be mean to me. It’s quite wretched of them.’
‘I’m sure your mother more than makes up for it,’ he said dryly.
‘Yes, well. The less said about that, the better.’ Isangell looked serious for a moment. ‘I’m glad you came. I need you here, in Aufleur.’
‘Because that worked out so well last time…’
Ashiol barely remembered the last few months of his time here, except that he had been sampling every mind-altering substance under the sun to blot out the pain ofwhat Garnet had done to him. He certainly hadn’t left the city on his own two feet.
‘You look good,’ said Isangell. ‘I mean, better than before.’
‘I worked out my demons.’ Potions and powders were so difficult to purchase in the provinces. Easier to do without. ‘I don’t know why you want me here,’ he said abruptly. ‘I mean, I know why—I know the role you want me to play. But I have four strapping younger brothers, all with blood as fine and Aufleurine as my own. None of them have the history I have with this city.’
None of them were cut down from a rope in the deepest wine cellar, gibbering about the man who had destroyed him.
‘I’m sure they’re lovely boys and your mother raised them well,’ said Isangell. ‘But I don’t know them, Ash. They never lived in the Palazzo. They never told me stories of saints and angels. They have no bad history with the city because it doesn’t know them at all. I want you. I need you here, by my side.’
And there was that voice, the one their grandmother had used to such effect when she wanted a thing done.
‘Well and fine,’ Ashiol muttered. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘You promised me a year.’
‘I’ll do my best to keep that promise.’ Not likely to go running with the cats and wolves in the street this time around. Garnet made sure of that.
‘Mother,’ Isangell said, in a different voice.
Ashiol steeled himself for the dour glare of his least favourite Aufleur matron. ‘Aunt Eglantine,’ he said politely.
‘Nephew,’ said Isangell’s mother. ‘Isangell, dear, you should be sleeping. You have only a few hours before we must prepare you for the festival.’
‘I was greeting my cousin,’ Isangell said impatiently. ‘It’s hardly worth sleeping now.’
‘It won’t do to look tired for the Floralia parade. Spring is about renewal.’
‘And cosmetick is a marvellous thing,’ said Isangell.
‘We were expecting you yesterday,’ Eglantine added, addressing Ashiol.
‘I like to make an entrance,’ he replied.
Eglantine gestured at the silent servant who had accompanied her into the atrium. ‘Armand will escort you to your chambers. Your festival costume awaits you. We had to guess at the measurements.’ She eyed his arms as if disapproving of the muscle he had put on in the last five years.
‘Your kindness overwhelms me, madame, as ever,’ said Ashiol. He dropped a wink at Isangell. ‘See you in the parade, gosling.’
His chambers were spacious enough, and about as far from Isangell’s rooms as one could get without actually being in the kitchens. Ashiol was amused by his aunt’s work. Eglantine had always been terrified that her rakish nephew would seduce her daughter, but he was a greater threat now that Isangell was of age and had the power to choose her own husband.
Ashiol had no words to describe to Eglantine how unlikely it was that he would ever desire to climb under Isangell’s skirts. Something to do with the fact that he had read her bedtime stories since she was three years old. The thought that Isangell might want him as a husband had likely given Ashiol as many nox terrors as it had Eglantine.
The festival costume was as appalling as Ashiol had feared, but he was grateful at least that it was not pink. The Floralia was one of those festivals designed to challenge one’s
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