Beneath the Veil Read online

  I did my best to look stoic, but a grin forced its way to my lips. He pulled off his nightgown and tossed it to the floor. Beneath it he wore an undertunic made of some thick, soft fabric, and matching briefs. I glimpsed the slight curve of his belly between the edges of the two garments. The hair on his arms and legs, and beneath his arms, was as golden as that on his head. In a shaft of sunlight from the window, he glittered like a star.

  Without the bulk and ostentation of his finery, his body was lean and lithe, his arms and legs muscled but thin. I would never be as strong or tall as the average adult male, but next to the prince, I felt like a hulking beast.

  He looked over his shoulder at me. "I'll make a pretty picture clad in naught but my shirt and hose."

  I startled, my hand snagging in his hair as I pulled away. "I plead your mercy."

  He turned, and his eyes held mine for another long moment. He reached a hand to touch the length of my braid, which had fallen over my shoulder. "You have lovely hair. It would please me greatly to see it worn unbound."

  The fear of discovery had kept my youthful urges in check, as had lack of coin to pay for the casual encounters most young men sought. I'd resigned myself to knowing I would live a life of necessary celibacy. I'd never yearned for a lover.

  Until now.

  He tugged loose the ribbon holding the end of my braid. My hair, thick and unruly, its color as ink next to the sunshine of his tresses, fell about my shoulders. It curtained me, shielded my face for a moment, and I was glad for its protection. I didn't want him to see the lust I could feel burning in my eyes.

  And then he turned to finish pulling on his own clothes, leaving me grateful and despondent he had not offered to become my first.

  Chapter Eight

  Court was, as Daelyn had said, interminable. True, there were juggling jesters and dancing boys in sheer costumes that performed acrobatics. There was food and drink and talking and flirting. It was magnificent, and opulent and at first I had gaped and goggled like a rube.

  Still, once I eaten and drunk my fill, and watched the dancing and magic, my fingers longed for something to do. Working for my uncle had accustomed me to constant movement, never-ending tasks, something to occupy my mind at all times. Here, in Daelyn's Court, I couldn't even participate.

  Daelyn's lordlings discussed fashion and hunting, who was fucking whom and who wasn't fucking anybody. The older men, the ministers and advisors and councilors, played cards and drank and smoked foul-smelling cigars while they boasted of how many sons they'd spawned, or complained of how the women in their household needed constant supervision.

  On the two chime and again at the four, supplicants who wished to petition the Prince Regent or any of the Councils were shuffled into the court to plead their cases. Daelyn listened to them, passed his decree and ordered them out again. It was incredibly dull.

  The Councils of Fashion, Finance and Agriculture mingled with lords not elected to any governing seats. The Council of the Book sat apart from the rest. Five men, all dressed soberly and none looking happy. The sixth man, Lord Joffsen Rosten, the Book Master, spoke in soft undertones to his cronies, but didn't bother to address anyone else. His face looked like a gourd, full of lumps and bumps and discolorations. His nose spread across his cheeks like an animal's snout, and a cruel mouth twisted beneath it. Only his eyes had any sort of beauty to them; a bright, flashing green sparkling with intelligence.

  The first three supplicants had minor complaints the Council of the Book took care of in short time. Two beatings and a fasting were ordered for such misdemeanors as not having breakfast served on time, oversalting a dinner, and spilling water on one man's favorite hunting cloak. Daelyn said nothing each time the punishment was ordered, just lifted his finger in silent approval.

  The fourth man had a weightier complaint and asked for a punishment to match.

  "I've heard her laughing." The grizzle-bearded man whipped off his cap and twisted it between grimy fingers. He wore the clothes of a laborer, and he smelled of sweat. "Laughing in her quarters! Right in me own house, m'lords!"

  "Abominable," said Lord Farquin Adamantane.

  Lord Redly Simelbon sniffed and made a face. "Highly improper!"

  The other members of the Council of the Book made similar pronouncements. Lord Rosten, face implacable, said nothing. He tilted his head to stare at the laborer, who blushed brick red under the scrutiny.

  Daelyn straightened his back. "It’s not a crime for a woman to laugh in her own quarters."

  "If she does it away from me, next she'll be doing it in front of me!" The man cried. "Laughing, and what next, I ask you? Speaking when not spoken to? Taking off her follyblanket?"

  "You say you heard her laughing in her own rooms." Daelyn's voice didn't rise, but it became tempered with steel. "She committed no crime. I'll not grant you license to provide anything more than normal retribution."

  "The beatings did nowt to stop her," the man whined. "If I take her hand –"

  "If you take her hand," Daelyn said with a sneer, "she'll be useless to you. Moreover, she'll likely bleed to death or die of infection. No. I'll not countenance violence as discipline for something as menial as overheard laughter."

  "But m'lord --"

  "I said no!" Daelyn got to his feet and threw out his hands to the room. "Do you see any other Prince Regent here?"

  The man gulped audibly, his eyes shifting toward the pair of armed guards flanking the door to the court. "I plead your mercy...."

  Daelyn's eyes narrowed. He spat to one side, narrowly missing the man's feet. "I am the Word and the Law. You are dismissed."

  The man nodded, his face twisted and red, and backed out of the room.

  "You are the Word and the Law," spoke up Rosten amiably enough. His eyes glittered. "But the laws are old and the words older. You must uphold tradition, Daelyn. 'Tis the place of the Council of the Book to decide the fates of those who don't stay in their place."

  Daelyn smoothed the front of his waistcoat and tossed his hair over his shoulders before speaking. "The tradition my father upheld? The same of my father's father, and his? A tradition of years, is that what you're saying?"

  Adamantane nodded. "Of course, my lord prince. There are reasons why Alyria has the laws it does. They work. They are just. They are right."

  Daelyn tutted and waved his hand. "My apologies to the Council of the Book, but traditions can change. Like fashion."

  "You must set a precedent," Adamantane continued. "There have been an uprising of incidents over the past year."

  I stopped fiddling with the small ball and string game I'd been toying with. Incidents? I'd heard of none, but then I'd not frequented the poetry houses where such news would have been shared. I cocked my head to listen while I tried to pretend I did not.

  "Follies speaking back to their men, girl children being spirited away in the dead of night – and boy children, too! Disappearing as if they never existed! There was the issue of the folly in Yuditay Province, when she poured lamp fuel on her man while he was sleeping and burned him alive!"

  "The story was that he'd repeatedly forced abnormal sexual congress upon her and beat her mercilessly," murmured Daelyn. "And she was put to death rather spectacularly as I recall. Burned and beheaded, her mouth stuffed with stones. Made an example of, I'd say. There've been no such incidents since."

  "None reported," said Rosten, his tone still mild. "But what of the men who die poisoned in their sleep?"

  Sudden and complete silence deafened me. Every eye had turned to look at the Book Master. He tilted his head again, and smiled.

  Daelyn's father King Harrigan had died in his sleep. Some said from poison. Others said from too much rich food and drink. His death had rocked the provinces, because of its suddenness and because his throne had been filled by a boy so young he'd scarcely been out of clouts.

  Daelyn's face was without expression. "Women have no place in this world, I fully agree. If I had my way, I'd send every woman a