Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

“Thank you. It was a gift from a friend.”

“A lover?” Nadine asked with glee. “I thought you were immune to lovers.”

“I was to him,” Kathe said archly. “We were friends, not lovers. At least that’s what I thought. Poor boy.” She did not go into more details, but sprinkled the scent over Ilse’s hair. “Now just a touch to your wrists and throat. Perfect.”

The hour bell rang, sending Ilse into a panic. “I’m late.”

“Tell us everything later,” Kathe said.

“Remember to laugh,” Nadine called after her. “You look prettier that way.”

She ran to the entry hall. Kosenmark had already arrived and was prowling from one side of the room to the other. He turned at her entrance, lamplight flashing from the red ruby in his ear. Dressed in shades of dark upon dark, he looked like a shadow at night.

“You needn’t run,” he said mildly.

“I didn’t want to be late, my lord.”

He tilted his hand outward. “You are overanxious. No matter, so am I. Come. Let us try to enjoy the evening in all its various parts.”

A liveried boy opened the carriage doors. Kosenmark handed Ilse inside, then swung up lightly to sit opposite her. He did seem anxious, she thought, because once settled, he leaned back into the cushions and stared out the window with a preoccupied expression.

As they wound slowly uphill toward the governor’s palace, Lord Kosenmark continued to stare out the carriage in silence. Once he frowned and let his glance fall to his hands. He wore a ruby ring on his left hand—one Ilse had previously observed on Lord Dedrick’s finger. He studied the ring a while, then sighed. Knowing there was nothing safe to say, Ilse kept silent, too, contenting herself with looking out the opposite window, and counting the landmarks she knew.

When the carriage turned into the courtyard of Lord Vieth’s palace, Kosenmark recalled himself. “My apologies for inflicting my moods upon you, Mistress Ilse. Happily, you will spend a few hours among more sociable creatures. Remember what I said before: you are as much a guest as I. Enjoy the banquet and the dancing.” He leaned forward and added softly, “I shall come to you when we are to meet.”

They emerged from the carriage into a confusion of lackeys and torch holders; runners, guests, and courtiers; carriages and their horses. Around the crowded courtyard, a circle of brick walls rose up against the night sky, bright gold in the blazing lamplight. Kosenmark guided Ilse through the chaos to the wide front doors. They passed into a domed entryway, where a herald announced their names to a tall gaunt man, dressed in a costume of rich green silks, with a fortune of gems upon his fingers.

Lord Vieth, Ilse thought, dropping into a curtsy.

Lord Vieth greeted Lord Kosenmark with evident pleasure and spoke politely

with Ilse. Kosenmark answered his inquiries after family and friends, then led Ilse through a passageway decorated with murals of Erythandra’s emperors and lined with statues of Lord Vieth’s ancestors, and into the gathering hall.

If Duenne’s palace were larger or grander, she could not imagine it. A dozen houses as large as her father’s could fit inside this one hall, with its polished marble dance floor, its carved columns rising toward the lofty ceiling, its balconies and alcoves. Tables occupied both the central square and the enormous dais at one end. Many of the guests were already seated and servants were moving among them with serving trays.

Lord Kosenmark leaned down and whispered. “You may breathe now.”

He was smiling. Laughing almost.

“It’s lovely,” she whispered back.

He shook his head. “Clearly, you’ve spent too long in my house. Come, let us cross to our tables. Vieth has an excellent cook. You will enjoy the meal.”

They parted at the hall’s center, he to sit at the main table, she to take her place among the attendants and lesser courtiers. As Lord Kosenmark predicted, she did enjoy an exquisite meal. Roasted trout followed the spiced soups, then came plates of seasoned rice and pastries stuffed with flaked salmon. What if Mistress Raendl had the resources of Lord Vieth’s household? she wondered. What if Kathe came here to serve nobles at their grand feasts instead of the pleasure house? Would it give them greater satisfaction or greater anxiety? Then a singer’s voice echoed through the hall, high and clear and pure, and she forgot these questions in her enjoyment.

The song ended. A few guests applauded; others concentrated on their meals.

“How long have you been with Lord Kosenmark’s household?” asked the woman to Ilse’s left.

“Nearly five months,” Ilse answered.

“Ah.” Her companion smiled. “We were expecting Maester Hax. But of course we are delighted that Lord Kosenmark found an assistant for his secretary. Is Berthold so very ill then?”

“Not at all. He unwisely ate too well this past week.”

“So Lord Kosenmark chose you in his stead. Are you enjoying your first evening at the palace?”

Ilse hesitated, thinking she read more than ordinary politeness in that question. “Lord Vieth is a gracious and generous host. I’m delighted he permitted me to come in Maester Hax’s place.”