Beneath the Veil Read online

  "And even that can be had, if Daelyn doesn't seed an heir before his coming-of-age in two years." Simelbon let out a low chortle. "And since he's not had any luck even spawning useless girls, it seems unlikely he'll get a boy."

  The shuffle of their feet stopped outside the balcony. I shrank back from the archway and stifled my breathing. I didn't care to imagine what they might do if they discovered I'd overheard them.

  "Still, we need to nip this problem in the bud." Rosten sighed. "We may be a minority, but we are still the majority of that minority. I aim to keep it that way."

  "Too true!" The lords moved off down the hall.

  The majority of the minority?

  Women. For every male child born, three females were spawned. That was the reason why male children were so precious, because like jewels, they were so rare. I knew why men were so revered over women. What I'd never before thought of was the power women had by the force of their numbers alone. It had never occurred to me before that women outnumbered men, or what that could mean.

  I left the balcony and returned to Daelyn's chambers to find them dark and quiet. The snort-whistle of his breath told me he was deep asleep. I crept to my own privy chamber. The cold water stung my cuts, and the water went pink almost immediately. Naught could be done for my clothes, but I stripped my undershirt into several long lengths to be used the next time I had my flow.

  I didn't want to wake my prince before he was ready, especially when I anticipated he might be angry with me. I found the texts he'd left for me to read those nights he went out without me. The books had been bound with smooth leather, finer than that from which my boots had been cut.

  I couldn't read as well as I liked. The ancient text and the faded ink made my task even more difficult. I was able to pick out most of the words. Some, like "mother" and "sister," considered by so many to be the foulest of words, I was stunned to see written. Yet here, in this book, women were referred to by those terms with no sense of malice. I read the lineage of the Alyrian ruling family and was even more stunned to see the female children listed along with the male, and the women who bore them listed alongside the men.

  I lingered over pictures of women whose kedalyas were naught more than long veils tied round their heads with fluttering ribbons. 'Twas strange to see the flowing gowns and pretty shoes, to see women with long hair like only men wore now. When had this book been written, that fashion and politics could have changed so much nobody even remembered a time when they were different?

  The next page gave me part of the answer. The text chronicled the plague that had taken the boy children but spared the female and had been the reason Alyria closed its borders. I turned the page and could do nothing for a long moment but sit and stare. The illustration was almost identical to the poster that had been tacked up in the King's Arms. The text was not "Givers of Life," but a name, perhaps the woman's name, or the artist's, but the sight of it made me gasp so hard I hurt my lungs.

  She had my name.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Aerisa Delaya, Year 3133."

  The date meant this book was nearly one hundred years old. Who was the woman in the picture? I closed the book with trembling fingers, more afraid then I'd been when I thought Rosten and Simelbon might overhear me. This book would be considered treason, if not outright blasphemy.

  One hundred years. Was that enough time for a society to change so thoroughly nobody could recall any different way of life? If nobody was taught anything other than what was, yes.

  "Aeris!"

  For a moment, the name sounded foreign to me, a man's name and not the feminine form I'd just read. "Coming, my prince!"

  "Where were you?" He asked, but without the irritation I'd expected. He looked me over. "You got yourself cleaned up, I see."

  "Yes, my prince." I picked up the brush and comb from the vanity table and went to him.

  He moved over to allow me to sit. I put the brush to the silky gold tumbling over his shoulders. Careful not to snag and pull, I worked at the tangles with the brush and my fingers. Daelyn made a low purr of pleasure and tilted his head to allow me greater access. In a few moments, I could run the brush from his crown to the end of his hair with no tugging.

  "Don't stop." He sighed. "I love to have my hair brushed."

  "Then I'm glad to brush it for you."

  And I was. I wanted to bury my face in the smooth and shining golden-red. I satisfied myself with letting it spill over my fingers and the palm of my hand.

  "Where did Lir take you?"

  I scowled and sat up straight. I should've known Lir would brag to Daelyn about what he'd tried to do, and how I'd failed at even that. "To teach me how to fight."

  Daelyn turned so fast the brush caught in his hair and yanked from my hand. "Sword fight?"

  I reached for the brush and began to disentangle it before it could hurt him. "Aye, my prince."

  Daelyn pushed me aside and leaped from the bed. "That bastard!"

  I heartily agreed with that assessment of Lir's character, but couldn't understand why Daelyn now thought so. "I ran away before he could."

  Daelyn gave me an angry sniff. "Did you?"

  I put the brush down and got to my feet. "If I'd known it would make you so upset, I wouldn't have gone with him at all."

  "What did he say to you?" Daelyn pressed one fist to the palm of his other hand. His nightrail and the curtain of his hair swirled around him as he paced.

  "He said I needed to learn to fight with a sword if I was to beat Vermonte."

  Daelyn didn't laugh. "You could beat Vermonte with a blindfold on your face, Aeris. You're twice the fighter he is. He had to pull a dirty trick to win over you."

  "You let him do it." I heard my voice break and turned so he wouldn't see my face. "You laughed...at me. You and your friends."

  "I'd have thought by the number of bruises you've garnered recently that you'd developed a rather thicker skin." His voice had become light, but dangerously so, and I knew I was walking on jagged pavement. One wrong word would trip me up entirely. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were chastising me, Aeris."

  "No, my prince."

  "Really? Because I'm fair certain I heard a hint of reproach on your tongue."

  I risked a glance at him. "No."

  He put his hands on his hips. "I brought you from the gutter. I've given you food, and clothes, and an opportunity most young men would gladly grovel for. But if you'd rather go back to the joba melon stand...."

  "No!" I softened my voice at the sight of his raised brows. "I plead your mercy. I spoke out of turn."

  "You lost that fight because you were too cowardly to face Vermont's blade. He's better trained, but you are better skilled. You could've taken his sword from him, turned the fight, had you the courage." His words were soft but dangerous. "Your fear kept you from winning. Lir's my Fight Master, Master of the Art, my best swordsman. He should be my Book Master instead of that monster Rosten, but Lir refuses. He says the Art isn't something to be squandered. He holds his skill with the blade like a treat for good behavior. But he was wrong to offer it to you. You don't deserve what Lir could give you. Not if you're too afraid even to take a sword from someone as cocky and overconfident as Chesley Vermonte."

  I nodded, crushed. I couldn't answer even to agree. Everything he said was true, but it hurt to hear it spoken aloud, by him, my prince.

  "Prepare my bath and clothes. I'll be going out later."

  "Am I to join you?" I couldn't disguise the hopefulness in my voice.

  He looked down his nose at me. "It’s an outing for men. Not boys."

  Then he disappeared into his bathing chamber and left me standing in the shreds of my pride.

  Chapter Twelve

  I helped him dress and do his hair and made up his face for him with his expensive cosmetics. He seemed pleased with the results and deigned to give my hand a squeeze as he slipped his feet into high-heeled shoes.

  "You've developed a deft touch with f