“I know. Tell him.”
So August sat and took several breaths, and closed his eyes. After a few moments he opened his eyes. “He says to listen to Regal.”
“That’s all?”
“He was busy. And very irritated. Now leave me alone. I fear you’ve made me a fool before my king.”
There were a dozen witty replies I could have made to that. But I let him walk away. I wondered if he had Skilled to King Shrewd at all. I sat down on the stone bench and reflected that I had gained nothing at all and wasted much time. The temptation came and I tried it. I closed my own eyes, breathed, focused, opened myself. Shrewd, my king.
Nothing. No reply. I doubt that I Skilled at all. I rose and went back into the palace.
Again that day, at noon, Kettricken ascended the dais alone. Her words today were just as simple as she announced that she was binding herself to the people of the Six Duchies. From this moment hence she was their Sacrifice, in all things, for any reason that they commanded it of her. And then she thanked her own people, blood of her blood, who had raised her and treated her well, and reminded them she did not change her allegiance out of any lack of affection for them, but only in the hopes that it would benefit both peoples. Again the silence held as she descended the steps. Tomorrow would be her day to pledge herself to Verity as a woman to a man. From what I understood, Regal and August would stand beside her tomorrow in Verity’s stead, and August would Skill so that Verity might see his bride make her pledge to him.
The day dragged for me. Jonqui came and took me to visit the Blue Fountains. I did my best to be interested and pleasant. We returned to the palace for more minstrels and feasting and that evening’s displays of arts by the mountain people. Jugglers and acrobats performed, and dogs did tricks and swordsmen displayed their prowess in staged bouts. Blue smoke was very much in evidence, and many were indulging, swinging their tiny censers before them as they milled about and talked to one another. I understood that for them, it was like a carris-seed cake, a holiday indulgence, but I avoided the trailing smoke of the burn pots. I had to keep a clear head. Chade had supplied me with a potion to clear the head of wine fumes, but I had and knew of none for smoke. And I was unused to smoke. I found a clearer corner and stood apparently enraptured by a minstrel’s song, but watching Regal over his shoulder.
Regal sat at a table, flanked by two brass burners. A very reserved August sat a slight ways from him. From time to time they spoke, August seriously, the Prince dismissively. I was not close enough to hear the words, but I saw my name and Skill from August’s lips. I saw Kettricken approach Regal, and noted that she avoided being in the direct draft of the smoke. Regal spoke long to her, smiling and languid, and reached once to tap her hand and the silver rings she wore. He seemed to be one of those that the smoke made talkative and boastful. She seemed to teeter like a bird on a branch, now drawing closer to him and smiling, now drawing back and becoming more formal. Then Rurisk came to stand behind his sister. He spoke to Regal briefly and then took Kettricken’s arm and drew her away. Sevrens appeared and replenished Regal’s burners. Regal gave a foolish smile of thanks and said something, indicating the whole hall with a wave of his hand. Sevrens laughed, and left. Shortly afterward, Cob and Rowd arrived to speak to Regal. August rose and stalked indignantly off. Regal glared and sent Cob to fetch him back. August came, but not graciously. Regal rebuked, and August glowered, then lowered his eyes and conceded. I wished desperately that I were close enough to hear what was said. Something, I felt, was definitely afoot. It might be nothing to do with me and my task. But somehow I doubted it.