The Traitor’s Ruin Page 6

  Girls couldn’t be matched until they were sixteen, but anything without an official matchmaker was legal. Marriages outside the system were typically the very highest and lowest—either royalty or indentured peasantry. Rose was thirteen, and Sage often felt more like the princess’s older sister than her teacher. If that was what was at stake, there was no way she could abandon her.

  “You may send the order, Your Majesty,” she said, then cringed that she’d just given a queen permission to do something.

  Orianna kissed her on the forehead. “I won’t forget this, Sage.”

  Now it was time to face Clare. Her friend was waiting for her in the schoolroom, idly flipping through a history book. Her posture told Sage she was angry, which meant she knew. Sage crossed the room and sat diagonally from her. Clare didn’t look up.

  “I should have said something to you first,” Sage said timidly. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be. I came down here to be with you, and now you’re leaving.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sage said again. “It happened so fast. I didn’t think it would really happen anyway.”

  Clare shoved her book away. “I thought the one good thing about having to wait years to get married was being able to spend time with you, but apparently you’ll choose him over me even now.”

  “That’s not true!” protested Sage. “This is about helping Her Majesty. I’d be going even if Alex wasn’t involved.”

  Clare snorted. “Please, Sage. This is about proving yourself and getting back at him for lying to you last year.”

  That was too close to yesterday’s thoughts for Sage’s comfort. She felt her cheeks redden.

  “The thing is,” Clare continued, “you’re so busy trying to prove yourself to everyone, you don’t realize he’s the only one you don’t need to prove anything to.” She stood with quiet dignity. “The queen asked me to serve as her personal secretary in your absence, and there are all those documents to copy. So if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Sage stared at the empty chair. She’d never really had a friend until meeting Clare last year, and even then it had taken time for Clare to break through the walls Sage had erected around herself. Apparently, keeping a friend was as much work as making one. She put her head on her hands and sighed.

  Rose and Carinthia arrived on time for lessons and pounced on Sage as soon as they came through the door. “We heard you’re leaving!” cried Carinthia, tears brimming in her wide hazel eyes.

  “It’s only temporary,” Sage said wearily.

  “What’s wrong?” said Rose, taking a nearby chair.

  “Just tired. And actually wondering if I should go after all.”

  Carinthia brightened. “Please stay! You’re the best teacher we’ve ever had!”

  “Which is exactly why she should go.” Rose frowned at her younger sister. “Nicholas needs her more than we do right now. I think it’s wonderful.”

  Sage shook her head. “I thought so, too, but…” She hesitated. Her arguments with Alex and Clare felt too raw and personal to share. “I just had so many plans for us,” she finished.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rose said. Carinthia pouted from where she stood, but didn’t say anything.

  “I know what you need,” said Rose, rising to her feet and tugging Sage’s hand.

  15

  THE PRINCESSES PRACTICALLY dragged Sage out of the schoolroom and down the passage and several flights of stairs. In one of the workshops on the lower levels, Eleanor Draper listened as Rose explained how Sage would be tutoring the prince while he was in the field with the army. When Rose finished, the seamstress ordered Sage to strip to her undergarments and stand on the small platform in the center of the room before disappearing.

  Even Carinthia was getting into the spirit as she and Rose helped Sage undress. Rose leaned in to whisper while Cara laid Sage’s dress over a chair. “You must go, Sage, for my sake. I am trapped here at the palace, sewing and dancing and smiling sweetly when I want to scratch someone’s face, but you can have an adventure, just like in the storybooks.”

  Sage looked at her student, realizing for the first time that Rose didn’t watch her in the tilting yards and constantly ask about Sage’s earlier life out of curiosity or boredom. She envied her, yet Sage had never seen a definite sign of it until now. She clasped the younger girl’s hands and nodded. “I will,” she said. “And when I get back I’ll talk to your parents about expanding your education outside of the schoolroom, if only a little.”

  Rose’s eyes lit up at Sage’s promise, and she hugged her as Eleanor came bustling back in with a bolt of cream-colored fabric and a pile of linen. The seamstress set down her burdens and then shook out a bleached linen undertunic.

  Right before she made to toss it over Sage’s head, she paused and frowned. With one finger she tugged on the shoulder strap of Sage’s lace-trimmed breastband. “I’ll have to make you a few of these that are a bit sturdier.”

  “I’ll take notes for you,” offered Rose, moving to the table with parchment scraps and charcoal pencils.

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Eleanor said, lifting the shirt over Sage. “I think three should be a good number, and this one fits well, so I can use the measurements in Mistress Fowler’s file. Now wait here a minute.” The last comment was directed at Sage as the seamstress walked back to the fabric bolt.

  With the deftness of her profession, Eleanor laid out the cloth and used a wheeled blade to cut a rough shirt in a matter of minutes. She brought it back to Sage and helped her layer it over the white undershirt. Princess Cara dragged the full-length mirror—a luxury afforded by Eleanor’s position as personal seamstress to the royal family—to where Sage could see as Eleanor pinned the sleeves and set the hem to the length she wanted.

  The long, cream-colored tunic flared out from her waist like a skirt but stopped at her knees. She would still wear breeches or hose underneath. “I envisioned something shorter,” said Sage.

  “Pah!” Eleanor paused her pinning to brush away Sage’s complaint with a dismissive wave. “You don’t want to look like a man, do you?”

  Sage opened her mouth to say she didn’t care what she looked like, but then clamped it shut. She did care. When Alex looked at her, she wanted him to like what he saw.

  “This is a good compromise,” the seamstress said. “Simple and easy to move in, but feminine. Look.” Eleanor stood and wrapped a cord around Sage’s narrow waist, crossed it in the back, and brought it around to the front to join at a downward angle. “A belt here like this and it’s quite becoming as well as functional.” She moved aside so Sage could see the effect in the mirror. Rose clapped her hands in approval.

  Sage gazed at her reflection thoughtfully. It almost looked like a short dress, but she would be able to move in it like the breeches she grew up wearing. The more she looked at it, the more this outfit felt like the best of both worlds. After a few seconds she smiled shyly at the seamstress. “I’ll need several. Do you have this fabric in dark green or brown, too?”

  Eleanor’s apple cheeks plumped up as she grinned. “I have both.”

  The seamstress worked to pin and record what she would need to make more outfits, reminding Sage of the last time she’d been prodded and measured like this. She’d been preparing to meet the matchmaker, enduring everything with an increasing sense of dread. As she peeked in the mirror again, Sage had a different sense entirely. Then she was being wrapped in the role everyone wanted her to play.

  This was like finding herself.

  16

  LESSONS WERE OVER for the day. Sage was in the schoolroom, copying a three-hundred-year-old trade agreement as the late afternoon sun slanted through the window. Clare sat at the table on the opposite side of the room, doing the same work and studiously ignoring her. All Sage’s optimism from the morning had faded. She wondered if it was too late to back out.

  There was a knock at the door, and Alex burst in before either Sage or Clare could answer, the
queen’s note clutched in his hand. He scowled at Sage before addressing Clare. “Will you excuse us, my lady?”

  Clare looked startled and began to stand.

  “Actually, Clare, I’d prefer you stay,” said Sage without breaking eye contact with Alex. Even if Clare was angry with her, Sage felt like she needed her friend’s support in what was coming.

  Alex clenched his jaw. “Fine.” He held up the queen’s order. “What the hell is this?”

  Sage refused to be cowed. “Her Majesty is concerned about the prince’s education and feels a gap in instruction will only do him more harm. She asked me to serve as his tutor during the mission.”

  “She asked, or you offered?”

  “Does it matter? I’m the queen’s choice.”

  “It does matter, Sage.” Alex slapped the parchment on the table. “I thought we discussed this last night.”

  “Really?” Sage raised an eyebrow. “I recall you refusing to discuss it at all.”

  “So this is what you did? You went above me to get what you wanted?”

  “I went to someone who listened,” she retorted. “If they could see the merit in my coming along, I thought perhaps you might.” Sage sat back and crossed her arms. “I’m not sure why you have so much trouble with it. Your own mother told me how she traveled with your father for months at a time. While pregnant.”

  “Excellent point, Sage. They were married.” Alex ran a hand through his hair and gripped it above his neck as he looked down at her. “We’re not.”

  “It’s not like we’ll be sharing a tent.”

  Alex flushed and glanced at Clare, who wasn’t even pretending not to listen. “I never thought we would. But I can’t have you distracting me.”

  “I have no intention of being a distraction,” Sage replied with calmness she didn’t feel. “I’ll have my own responsibilities to the prince. You’ll hardly see me.”

  He dropped his hand and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Just having you there—” He broke off.

  There it was again, that undercurrent of fear. Why was he so damn afraid? “If you want it undone,” she said, “go to the king.” She almost hoped he would.

  Alex shook his head. “I received this in front of all my officers. There’s no way I can without making one or both of us look like complete fools.”

  One or both of us. He wasn’t willing to tear her down. Sage felt her face grow hot. She hadn’t even considered how foolish her actions could make him look. “Then the solution is obvious,” she said, going back to writing to hide the moisture in her eyes. “Let the order stand.”

  “I’d rather you came to your senses.”

  She didn’t reply, and there was a long pause, during which Alex picked up the order parchment again.

  “Just think about it, Sage,” he said quietly.

  “I have.”

  “Then think some more.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Can we talk tonight? Same time and place as usual?”

  “I might be busy.” Sage still refused to look up. After what felt like a full minute, he left without another word.

  When the door closed behind him, Sage heard Clare gathering the papers and books she was working on. Apparently, her friend had had enough of her, too.

  But instead of leaving, Clare brought everything to Sage’s table and laid it out, then sat next to her.

  “Clare,” Sage began.

  “Hush,” said Clare. “We have work to do, especially if you’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

  17

  EMOTIONS WERE EASIER to keep in check when one’s mind was fixed on a challenging task. It was the reason Uncle William had made Sage tutor her cousins after Father died—it distracted her from her grief, and the small victories she achieved with her students had helped counter her depression. Sage focused on copying the documents now, refusing to let any other thoughts enter her head. Clare worked alongside her, acting as though their argument of the morning hadn’t happened, and Sage was grateful.

  They finished around the seven o’clock hour, and Sage sat back with a sigh, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hand to avoid touching her face with her ink-stained fingers. Clare set aside the original parchments and the ledger containing the copies for the master of books. “Did you see the similarities between the Kimisar and Casmuni languages?” she asked.

  “I saw some at first in several words,” Sage answered. “But after a while I just concentrated on getting it all copied. The order I put each set in was Kimisar, Demoran, then Casmuni, which also separated them in my mind.”

  Clare shook her head. “You should’ve copied the foreign ones next to each other. When you see them side by side, it’s obvious the structure of Casmuni is identical to Kimisar. Verb conjugation, too.”

  “That makes sense,” said Sage. “They share a common history, which makes it a bit odd that for many of the agreements, Demora acted as a go-between for them, like they didn’t want to talk to each other.”

  “I noticed that, too. What is it that they share? I never learned anything about them in my lessons.”

  Sage rolled her eyes. “I know. Judging by the majority of our history books, you’d think the world began when Demora was united.”

  “Well, we count our years from then.”

  “Exactly. Five hundred and ten years isn’t long in the scheme of the world.” Sage stretched her arms over her head and groaned. She’d been hunched over the table for too many hours. “Uncle William had a set of Kimisar history books, though, which was one reason I got so good at the language. Apparently, both Kimisar and Casmuni came from the same southwest region of the continent. They were a mostly nomadic people, as their land was poor for farming.”

  “Like Tasmet?” said Clare. “I remember how rocky and almost barren it was when we passed through last year.”

  Sage nodded. “Yes, like that. They spread over the continent, never settling anywhere, even where the land was better, because it was occupied. The east side of the Catrix Mountains is mostly desert, though, so they ignored it. Then they discovered the Kaz River had an uninhabited fertile area far to the south. Some of their people began settling there.”

  “Did they simply grow apart?” asked Clare.

  “Basically. Over time they felt less and less loyalty to each other. The eastern people grew rich in resources and knowledge, which is how so much of the history was recorded. An explosion in population and sea trade in the north here pushed the Kimisar back south, where they struggled.” Sage pointed to the map of Demora on the wall. “Back then, Demora didn’t exist, and everything south of Jovan on both sides of the mountains was considered Kimisara, but it wasn’t really a nation. The Casmuni, as they now called themselves, battled the Kimisar along the Kaz River, culminating at a place called Yanli. It was a horrible, lopsided defeat for the Kimisar due to some kind of weapon the Casmuni had developed, and they retreated back into the lands they occupy now. All that was over a hundred years before Demora was united.”

  “And they still hate each other to this day?”

  Sage shrugged. “Who knows now? We used to be friendly with Casmun, as you can see by these agreements, but the D’Amiran royal family refused to provide military aid in 291 when Kimisara tried to invade Casmun, and they haven’t spoken to us since. If they’re still holding a grudge over two hundred years later, it’s not hard to imagine the same long feelings toward Kimisara.”

  “Fascinating.” Clare ran her fingers over a copied page. “And what we learn from these documents could be critical in our reconciliation.”

  “That might be overstating it,” said Sage. “But it could help with the first step, maybe speed up the process.”

  “Did you tell Captain Quinn about this?”

  Sage frowned. “Judging from how upset he was that I knew anything about the Norsari, I decided not to, yet. Have you told Ambassador Gramwell?”

  “He knows about the trade agreements and that I’ve been copying them for Sir Francis
,” said Clare. “I didn’t want to mention what all we could learn until I was sure it would be anything useful.”

  “Good idea, though we can tell the queen everything.” Sage’s stomach abruptly growled loud enough for Clare to hear. “I’m starving. Let’s call it a night.”

  “Can we have something brought here? I’d like to keep working.”

  Sage raised her eyebrows. “I figured you’d be wanting to walk with Lieutenant Gramwell tonight. He’s leaving the day after tomorrow.”

  “This is more important right now,” Clare said. “You’re more important.”

  Sage was suddenly close to tears for the third time that day. “Clare, I really am sorry I didn’t talk to you first.”

  “I know.” Clare smiled softly. “You do tend to act before you calm down, but I think I was mostly jealous. You’ll see the captain every day. And Luke, too.”

  “I think it will be much less fun than it sounds,” said Sage. “I don’t know why he’s so against having me with him.” She glanced at the darkening sky outside the window. “He’ll be waiting for me soon, wanting to try to talk me out of it again.”

  “Sage?” Clare smirked a little. “Let him wait.”

  18

  ALEX SPRINTED TO the garden, though he knew it was much too late for Sage to still be there. The king had called him up to discuss the rules of engagement for this mission, and after that he’d been caught in a conversation with Colonel Traysden on training methods. He reached the willow tree and pushed into the branches, calling her name, but got no answer.

  He was almost glad not to see her. Waiting over two hours wouldn’t have done anything for her temper. By now she would have gone to bed.

  Alex made his way to her room, taking a longer route through the corridors so he could rehearse what he wanted to say. Though it would be motivated mostly to get in her good graces, he’d apologize. He was sorry, but he had to figure out how to get her to listen to him. By objecting outright to her coming, he’d set her on it like a fighting dog. Alex had to calm her down and make her see reason, which was difficult when the thought of her coming along made him panic and forget his own logic.