Valentin learns the truth, or at least part of it, from Princess Isobel.

Length: 3000-7000 words, POV: Valentin, Rating: PG
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Part of: 015 Ilas, Contents

Valentin met Cassius that evening after dinner. They stood on the balcony which ran along the second floor and connected the guest rooms. The night was warm and a little humid.

“Is your room to your liking?” said Cassius.

“A little dark, but well enough,” said Valentin. “How did you find the defences?”

“There are some good defensive positions.” Cassius shrugged. “The trick is to find a place for the legionaries which maximises their impact while minimising casualties. This is not our war, after all.”

Leaning his elbows on the stone rail, Valentin said, “No, but the Empress stands to gain something. I wonder what it is? There is no treaty requiring Jovan to offer assistance, and Ilas does not stand between Jovan and some enemy. The imperial coffers are low but by no means depleted, either.”

“Mmm,” said Cassius without interest. “Have you figured out what Isobel is hiding?”

“Princess Isobel,” said Valentin, “and no. But your cousin is mixed up in it, without doubt. She was in Nuath when Prince Nadzic died. He fell from the fourth floor of the palace.”

“Huh.” Cassius turned to return to his room. “Well, do try to avoid assassinating another one of my relatives, Valentin.”

“Am I to blame that your Derani cousins are so fond of intrigue? They must imbibe it with their mothers’ milk.”

“Good night, brother,” said Cassius, refusing to rise to the bait.

Valentin started out across the palace gardens and didn’t reply. The warm air carried the scent of the forest.

Certainly, Isobel had been one of the great passions of his life. He had come to Ilas a furious boy, chastened and exiled by Dolmus, secretary to the Jovani ambassador. She was the second-eldest of King Lupe’s five children, and still very young.

He hadn’t noticed her so much then, too wrapped up in his own problems, but when he had come back as the ambassador several years later, she had been unmissable. During his brief sojourn in Cambria, Isobel had grown into a beautiful teenager. Their reintroduction had been in the form of her flinging herself into his arms after an argument with her father that had been audible across the palace. To King Lupe’s visible relief, he had taken the temperamental princess under his wing. They had bonded over long, soothing walks around Karolas, in which Valentin mixed just enough of the seamier parts of the city to keep Isobel’s interest piqued. Valentin had weathered her moods; he found them fascinating. At balls they had danced as if the music was theirs alone.

He had loved her within the boundaries of their roles: she treasured princess, and he, foreign prince. When he eventually approached her father, King Lupe had given his unconditional consent to their marriage. Valentin had been confident Dolmus would approve; the marriage would keep Valentin out of Jovan, and strengthen the allegiance between their countries.

But Dolmus hadn’t approved. He had recalled Valentin without delay, and left it to his successor as ambassador to explain to the Ilasians.

Even now, eleven years later Valentin didn’t know whether that was because Dolmus didn’t trust Valentin with a powerful foreign bride, or whether he had just wanted to punish him.

The morning brought the news that the Veribian armada would almost certainly reach Ilas the following day. Cassius rode out early in the morning to meet the arriving legionaries and discuss positions with the officers.

Valentin found Lupe, Isobel, Mila, and a host of others sitting down to a large breakfast. Upon joining them he suggested that it might be pleasant to stroll around the town. Isobel looked at Mila, who shook her head. “I thank you, Lord Valentin, but Princess Isobel and I have too many things we must to here. If you are at a loose end, I have no doubt your assistance would be appreciated stocking the palace to prepare for a siege.”

Undeterred, Valentin said, “Is that what you two will be doing?”

“Our duties take us elsewhere,” Mila said definitely. Isobel looked down at her plate.

Valentin passed the day pacing around his suite. Occasionally he sallied forth in the hope of finding Isobel unwatched by her apparent guardian, but in this he was unsuccessful. Mila kept a close and constant watch on the errant princess. Isobel followed Mila’s lead meekly. Did Mila hold some sway over Isobel? Valentin wondered.

A vision arose, in which Mila had coerced Isobel into murdering her husband. It was unclear to Valentin why Mila would want Prince Nadzic dead, but no doubt further nosing around would uncover something to the purpose. What a pity if another of Cassius’ cousins turned out to be rotten.

Cassius did not return to the palace, being now installed with his troops in the field. Valentin lay awake for several hours possessed by the knowledge that the following day would bring the first clashes between Ilasian and Veribian.

The next day seemed as if it would go the same way, until midmorning, when Valentin found Isobel by herself in the garden, examining a flower bed. He slithered up to her and said, “Those are beautiful flowers.”

She turned quickly, and when she saw it was him, looked back at the plant. “Transplants from Diena,” she said. “They have taken well to the climate here. I thought they mightn’t survive after I left, but they did.”

“It is always impossible to tell which will take and which will wither, is it not?”

Isobel laid down her shears and removed her gloves. She turned her black eyes on him. “I suppose it is,” she said, with a softening smile. “You do your best to match plant to soil, but if it will not grow, then you must accept that.”

Valentin nodded. “Is that what happened with you and Prince Nadzic?”

He underestimated her. “Is that what happened with you and I, Lord Valentin? Or with you and the woman your heart was hurting over when we first met? Did your feelings for her survive the neglect of them?”

“What in the world are you talking about?” said Valentin, leaning away from her.

“Don’t presume to ask me questions you cannot answer yourself,” said Isobel. She began to walk towards the terrace.

Valentin followed her down the path. “Princess, I only wish to help you.”

“Your brother is far more helpful than you, Lord Valentin. He will repel the Veribians, and I will resume my life here.”

“So there is to be no justice for Prince Nazdic?”

“There is no crime against him. He fell.”

“So you and Mila have both said. You were the only witnesses?”

“Yes.” Isobel walked faster. “So you see how it was convenient for the Veribians to blame us for the whole.”

Valentin circled around and blocked her path. She stopped, shears and gloves in one hand, and frowned at him. “I see how the Veribians might suspect foul play in such a circumstance.”

“I cannot atone for a crime I did not commit,” said Isobel.

“Will you tell me what happened?” Valentin stepped out of her path. “Please, then I will cease to plague you.”

She weighed him up. “Mila should be here,” she said.

“The Yellow Princess appears to have her own reasons for silencing you,” said Valentin.

Isobel shook her head once.

“Am I wrong?” He sat down on a bench and patted the seat next to him. Isobel hesitated, then sat down.

“It was a misunderstanding. Nadzic fell. He wasn’t pushed.”

Putting his hand on her arm, Valentin said, “You can tell me. I won’t tell your father, the king. On the love I once felt for you, I promise.”

“Once felt for me?” said Isobel curiously.

“Do you love me still?” Valentin countered.

“Oh, Lord Valentin. I never loved you.” She said this with a sad, distant smile. Stung, Valentin almost retorted sharply, but he swallowed the words. After all, when he looked back now, all he felt was bitterness about Dolmus’ treatment of him, and experience showed he did not make a good husband.

“I see. Did you love Prince Nadzic?”

“No, but I liked him. At least, I tried to like him. But Veribian customs are different and—he was not kind, sometimes. He knew I didn’t love him, and when he found out why… he was angry.”

“Why didn’t you love him?” said Valentin.

“That is not relevant. It is enough that I didn’t, and couldn’t.”

“Do you love someone else?”

“Valentin…” He could hear the warning in her voice.

“My apologies, princess. Please continue.”

“There is not much else. I was out on my balcony with Mila. He confronted me with what he knew. Prince Nadzic was prey to terrible moods. He barely knew himself when he was in a passion; it was as if he were possessed. He struck me and threatened Mila, and in the midst of his fury, he stumbled over a watering can, slipped in the spill, and went over the balcony. There was nothing anyone could have done to save him.” She sighed.

Valentin found he was leaning quite close to her. With conscious effort, he leaned back.

“We knew it would be obvious he had fallen from my balcony, so we took as much as we could carry and fled Nuath. By the time Nadzic’s body was discovered, we were on a ship to Ilas. I regret bring this trouble upon my father, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Thank you for telling me,” said Valentin.

“I wish you will stop plaguing me now.” Isobel stood. “I have told you all I may.”

As she walked away towards the palace, Valentin leaned back against the back of the bench and watched her, his brows pressing down into a frown. “Yes,” he muttered to himself, “but you haven’t told me everything.”