"Powers that Divide Chapter 14" by Suzanne Collins

At that moment Kiftaro began making his way towards them. He brought his hand up and beckoned to Grendian, forcing him to leave Della to answer the summons. They conversed briefly then Grendian glanced back at Della before frowning and leaving the hall. Della watched with growing apprehension as the wizard continued on his route through the crowd and approached her.

“I trust you are enjoying our little social gathering this evening?” He bent his head in greeting, a forced smile on his lips. Della’s mouth was dry, and she began to suspect that he had deliberately drawn Jon away.

“It has been most entertaining, my lord, though I am rather tired and am sure that I will not partake of the more frivolous of dances.” She hoped that her hint would give him an excuse to leave her be, but clearly he was intent on speaking to her. He moved slightly closer as there was a rise in the music level and cries of laughter from the other guests. Della instinctively moved away to keep her own space, and found herself against a wall.

“Why that is a pity, my lady. I’m sure a woman of your beauty would be much admired were she to take to the floor. Many of the men here would be delighted to watch you.” Della flushed, though somehow she knew that he was flattering her for a purpose, not out of sincerity. “I would understand if you looked down on us here, having spent so long in King Roth’s court. I have been to some events which far outstrip anything we could organise.”

“Yes, but surely this is just a private party. I am sure the count is more than capable of providing for more splendid and important occasions.” Della was unsure where this conversation was heading, and was watching her words carefully with the manners of a courtier.

“I have heard it said that the king’s advisor, Lord Hamien, disapproves of the king’s more lavish tendencies. Would you say this was true?” Kiftaro had moved closer again, and Della could feel the bottom of a wall bracket digging between her shoulder blades. She moved sideways and turned her back to the open space. Her claustrophobia eased slightly. As she did this she pondered his words and thought out her response. Yes, it was true that Hamien was known to rebuke the king for spending so much money on private functions and entertainments – yet it always seemed that the king had more than enough money to pay his servants fair wages and distribute to the poor. Something must be going right in the king’s treasury. She could not imagine what the wizard was aiming at.

“I am not so close to the king’s advisor that I would presume to know what goes on behind the doors of the royal quarters,” she said diplomatically. “Lord Hamien clearly gives sound economical advice, else the king’s coffers would be sorely depleted and he would not be so high in the king’s favour.” He gave a chuckle at these words.

“Well said, my lady,” Kiftaro once more gave her that appraising look, which suggested he was seeing her in a whole new light. “You say you are not close to Lord Hamien. I find this strange, seeing as he was the man who saved you from your wreck of a marriage and secured you a place in the princess’ household.” His expression was one of bland interest, as though he were simply making light conversation, but his words were like arrows, aimed to pierce her defences. Della knew there were hidden currents beneath his words. More than ever she was on her guard.

“You seem to know much about my circumstances. May I inquire as to the purpose of this questioning?” She felt bold, and decided to stop playing whatever game he was getting her caught up in. He seemed nonplussed by her confrontation.

“I make it my business to know,” was all he said.

“The Lord Hamien was very kind to me when I needed help. He is a very compassionate and noble man. I owe him much. That is the end of it.” She tried not to let her voice tremble as she spoke of the man for whom she would gladly give her life.

“There is talk among the court that he much favours you above any other lady. Also that he was against your union with Lord Grendian, for reasons unknown.” Kiftaro was becoming more and more insistent in his probing and Della was extremely uncomfortable. Her eyes roved the room but there was no sign of Jon. “You do realise that as Wizards of the highest order Lord Hamien and myself are forbidden to take spouses or mistresses. In fact, it would appear suspicious for me to be even talking to a woman on her own. I only talk to you out of concern that my most esteemed colleague may be moving on a most dangerous road.” His face was passive but there was an underlying threat to his words. Did he suspect something of Hamien’s activities? Did he know of her affection for him? How could he possibly know? Yet his singling of her and his veiled threats suggested a disturbing knowledge of her secret passion. If she was scared of him before, she was terrified now. She could reveal nor admit nothing, for Hamien’s sake. And yet there was nothing really to tell. Nothing except the kiss they had shared would condemn him, and there was no way anyone could know of that encounter.

Her silence seemed to last forever, and in her mind was more condemning that any words. He gave her a pointed look before bowing and making his exit. She watched him go with a sigh of relief and walked over to a group of ladies who were chatting of blessedly ordinary things. She managed to smile and greet them all despite the fluttering in her stomach and a slight nausea. All the while she wished Jon was there, but he was not to return for the rest of the evening. It was only towards the end of the evening that she realised the count had not been present either.

* * * * * * * * * * *

When she finally retired to bed, foot sore and with an aching throat from having to talk above the spirited musicians, she still hadn’t seen Jon. She got ready for bed and lay awake waiting for him to come. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, snoring softly. Her dreams were of black billowing robes and cold reaching hands encased in blue fire. Though she did not see his face, she instinctively sensed that this was Kiftaro. She shrank from the figure, and her view widened to encompass a scene so disturbing that she cried out in her sleep. Kiftaro was standing opposite Hamien, whose back was to Della yet whose figure was so familiar to her now that it could be no other. Kiftaro’s expression was filled with a glow of triumph. His eyes blazed with hatred as he threw ball after ball of blue fire towards Hamien, encompassing him completely. Della could see he was failing, and called his name in fear, reaching out to him…

“Della…Della?” the voice reached her faintly at first, then a hand shook her shoulder and she jerked awake, looking around wildly. Her heard thundered in her ears and her sheets were soaked in sweat. She looked up to see Jon’s face frowning above her. He sat beside her on the bed and took her hands.

“Always fire…” she said vaguely, shutting her eyes to blot out the ghastly vision.

“Della, you were having a nightmare. It’s ok, I’m here now.” He opened his arms as she sat up to hold him, her head on his shoulder, silent tears still clinging to her cheeks. “You were dreaming about him, weren’t you?” Jon’s voice filled with pain, and a hint of anger.

“Yes, but not just him… Kiftaro was there too. They were fighting. I can’t stand that man, he makes my skin crawl.” She lifted her head and wiped her cheeks, then looked Jon fully in the face. “He made insinuations that Hamien and I were hiding something sinful, I didn’t know what to do.” She laid a hand on his chest as he opened his mouth to speak. “Of course it is not true,” she said reassuringly, “but if there is even a hint of indiscretion, Hamien could be in danger.”

Jon stood up to light one of the candles in a bracket next to the bed. He seemed to be thinking, or avoiding the subject. When he sat back down, he said quietly, “well then we must make sure that these rumours have no base to stand on, we must dispel them somehow.” His face was grim. “As soon as we get back to Hgendi we must marry, then no one can say that you are involved in a scandal.” Della nodded agreement. She would do anything to avoid Hamien coming to harm. “That aside, I must tell you what I have learned this night. I am sorry I had to leave you but the count and his sons requested my presence.”

Jon then related to her what he had learned. The count had received news that King Roth had agreed finally to let his son marry the princess. There had apparently been much discord from some of the more important nobles in Hgendi, who thought that they and their sons should have taken priority over a foreigner. Lord Hamien, King’s Advisor, had overridden their arguments, stressing the importance of building ties and having relations with other countries.

“I met the count’s son but once, but one meeting was enough to tell me that he is a pompous twat,” Jon admitted to her with a scowl. “He has been pampered by his father because he is the eldest, and his head filled with thoughts of worth far above him. Yes, he is the son of a respected count, but it seems he was told from a young age that he would marry a princess. He is only interested in the power of the marriage and cares not a whit for the object that would gain it for him. He will be a cruel husband, and the future king of Hgendi. I cannot stomach it.” Jon paused, his eyes closed.

“That may be,” Della tried to reason, “but it is not in our power to alter, nor influence the king in such important matters, and if Hamien himself has condoned the match, all the more binding. The princess must marry, after all. It will be a powerful alliance.”

Jon gave a grudging nod. “Having a husband will give Grevenya new responsibilities and hopefully serve to keep her out of mischief.” Then something seemed to dawn on him, and his face opened in realisation. “Of course! No wonder the count has played such a powerful move… He has information that will ruin the princess if it got out, and he has blackmailed the king into giving his son permission to marry his daughter! I should have seen it from the beginning.”

Della sat up straighter in the bed and gave Jon a questioning look. “You cannot say such a thing and not explain yourself! What could possibly ruin the princess? She is an innocent and pure girl, and she knows her duty to her father and her country.” All the while Jon was shaking his head, a tortured look on his face.

“She is not as innocent as she seems. I for one should know that.” He paused, and she saw that he was thinking carefully about where to start in his tale. What followed caused Della’s ears to burn with disbelief, indignation and a great deal of jealousy…

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Before I was ordained into King Roth’s service as Ambassador to Thulrind, I lived here as a common man, my trade being a book binder in my own little shop. I was a loner really; my work was demanding and I had little time for friends or frivolities. My skills were in high esteem you know, even men such as the count sought me out. As you can imagine, I did well enough for money, but I had grown up with my mother (my father died before I was born), who was very poor and so every penny was precious to me. You may ask why I did not marry; well off as I was I was quite a catch. I had some admirers, granted. But none of them caught my eye and stood out as anything special. In Thulrind you see, we are a greedy people, and possessions and standing are of highest importance. These women I speak of were only interested in my wealth. They had not wit or beauty or an appreciation of the finer things in life. Then something happened that would change my life forever. I met Merrilay.

Merrilay was all that the others were not. She was beautiful, intelligent, sensitive and gentle. She was also a prostitute. Yes, I’ll admit to my shame that I sought out the pleasures of the brothels. It was a freedom I could not have with a wife and a relief from the daily grind. Merrilay was kind and patient with me, and I began to see her on a regular basis. I say regular, I noticed that she was only available at certain times of the month. Looking back on it now, I should have realised that it was those times that the count gave great parties in honour of his children (who he is very fond of, as you may have noted) and many high nobles of the land were invited to Thulrind, including the princess of Hgendi and her retinue. Merrilay would send notes to me at my home to say she was in town and wanted to see me. I fell in love with her, and I believe she was very fond of me.

These times of celebration were times of much debauchery. Many unwanted children were begotten and many people injured or killed in bouts of drunken madness. Much of the outside world looked with disgrace upon these activities, believing us a crude and decadent people. There were some rumours that the count’s daughter, Ithinia, was taking a most unscrupulous part in the celebrations, even that she was giving herself to men willingly, with no thought to her station in life. No one knew if these rumours were true, until one day Merrilay told me that she had met Ithinia and knew that she stole out of the count’s palace in the company of some men and spent many hours engaging in acts of wantonness. You don’t seem surprised to hear this; do you know something?”

“I have spoken with Ithinia,” Della replied cautiously. “I will say nothing more, please go on.”

“Very well. One day during a week of thanksgiving (as these times were known), I happened to be in town visiting one of my customers when I saw a procession of nobles coming my way. Amongst them were the count’s eldest son and his courtiers, and his daughter, Ithinia. She was surrounded by her ladies, all of which I had seen before, but one. This one caught my attention, particularly as she was wearing a circlet of gold and the finest dress I had ever seen. She was radiant with power and elegance. As she drew closer she looked at me and I saw her face blanch with fear. It was at that moment I realised that my Merrilay was not Merrilay at all, but the daughter of King Roth… Princess Grevenya.

“There were subtle differences, she must have put colour in her hair and of course would not have worn such finery. But there was no mistaking her. I could not believe it. I began to fear for my life, should it ever be discovered that I had been consorting with the heir of Hgendi. I ignored her letters of apology and explanation, believing I would be seized if ever such letters were intercepted. In time they stopped, and I did not see her again, only in the presence of her equals.”

Here he paused, a frown deepening the lines on his forehead. Della lifted a hand and gently flicked away a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. He glanced up at her, and she saw his eyes were full of pain. She looked at him searchingly.

“What happened next? Did anyone find out?” Della had a feeling that the ‘compromising situation’ Jon had spoken of back in Hgendi was the fact that Grevenya had disguised herself as a prostitute and given herself to a man illegally (being a princess her maidenhood was strictly reserved for her future husband, in order that any child conceived would undoubtedly be of noble blood).

“Alas, yes,” Jon replied. “The king has spies everywhere, it was only a matter of time before someone discovered her secret. What I don’t understand was how she could be so stupid! She put herself and any man she came into contact with in danger.” Jon’s voice had become harsh and angry. Della realised that he must still be in fear for his life, should Grevenya’s activities be called into question at any time.

“The king, however, recognised the trouble that would ensue should anyone find out that his daughter was no longer pure. He punished her severely, oh yes. But he could not risk it getting out. I am surprised to still be alive, if I am honest. King Roth is a virtuous and fair king, and being such decided to employ me in order to buy my secrecy. Any act I make against the king and his family now would be treasonous and therefore punishable by death anyway. It seems my contacts in Thulrind make me more useful as an ambassador. ”

“And Ithinia… it would seem her father is less forgiving.” Della recalled the pitiful girl dressed in servant attire and forced to leave her rightful place amongst the nobility. Part of her felt a wave of sympathy for the young woman, and yet part of her wondered how she could condone such behaviour. How on earth could she help Ithinia?

“Yes, well you see the count has three strapping sons and so little need for a girl child. She is disposable and so can be made an example of what happens when the blood of a noble woman is defiled. She had a son you know.” He smiled sadly at the shocked look on Della’s face. “You did not know? The child was drowned and the father and any other man Ithinia had were hanged. That is the difference between the good count and our king.” Della was silent, her thoughts spinning in horror. That poor woman! She pulled Jon to her and felt his arms come around her. They lay back together on the bed, and after a while she felt him trembling. She stroked his face and felt tears on his cheeks. It had cost him a lot to tell her this story. One question burned in her mind.

“Do you still love her?” she asked softly. He stilled, his breathing shallow.

“I thought I did,” he whispered. “But any love I felt for her has dissipated like melting snow since I laid eyes on you.”