08 A Little Hatred: Book One (The Age of Madness)

‘You’re safe now.’ And her mother pushed another drink towards her.

Savine jerked herself back from the slums of Valbeck. Sipped at her glass though she’d rather have swigged from the decanter. ‘Where’s Father?’

‘Working. I rather think he couldn’t face you.’ Her mother sat with a rustling of skirts, wiped a streak of wine from the outside of her glass and sucked her finger. ‘He can send a hundred prisoners to freeze in Angland without batting an eyelid, but he lets you down and he can scarcely get out of bed. I’m sure he’ll be along presently. To check that you’re well.’ Her mother considered her over the rim of her glass for a long moment. ‘Are you well, Savine?’

‘Of course.’ Splash of the bucket into black water, the stench of burning in her nose. ‘Although …’ Creak of the chain as the body of the mill owner swung from the gib of his own manufactory. ‘It may take …’ The feeling as her sword slid through that man’s body. So little resistance. The look on his face. So surprised. ‘Just a little time …’ The grinding, ripping, screaming as the guard’s arm was dragged into the gears of that machine. ‘To adjust.’

She drained her glass again. Shook herself free of Valbeck again. Forced the smile back onto her face. Again. ‘Mother, I … have some news.’

‘Bigger news than that you’re alive?’

‘In some ways, yes.’ Certainly Queen Terez would think so …

‘Is it bad?’ asked her mother, wincing.

‘No, no. It’s good.’ She thought. ‘It’s very good.’ She hoped. ‘Mother … I’ve received a proposal of marriage.’

‘Another? How many is that now?’

‘This time I’m going to accept.’ What man could suit her better, after all? What man could offer her more?

Her mother’s eyes went very wide. ‘Bloody hell.’ She finished her glass with one long swallow. ‘Are you sure? Given what you’ve been through—’

‘I’m sure.’ It was the one thing she was sure about. ‘What I’ve been through … only made me realise … how sure I am.’ Orso was the one thing that made sense, and the sooner she was back in his arms, the better.

‘But surely I’m not old enough to have a married daughter?’ Savine’s mother snorted up a laugh as she went to the table and pulled the stopper from the decanter. ‘So … who’s the luckiest bastard in the Union?’

‘That’s the thing. It’s … well …’

‘Have you fallen for someone unsuitable, Savine?’ Wine gurgled out into the glass. ‘Marrying down isn’t the worst thing in the world, you know, your father did it—’

‘It’s Crown Prince Orso!’ Her mother’s head jerked up, her glass, for once, forgotten in her hand. Savine had to admit it sounded absurd. The most unlikely part of some unlikely fantasy. She cleared her throat and looked at the floor, went halting on. ‘It seems that … in due course … I’m going to be Queen of the Union.’

And she had to admit it felt fine to say it. Perhaps the snake of ambition twisted around her innards had not died in the uprising after all, only slept through it. At so heady a sniff of power, it jerked awake with twice its old hunger.

But when she looked up, her mother had the strangest expression. Certainly not joy. Not even surprise. One would have had to call it horror. The base of her wine glass rattled as she slid it onto the table, as if she could hardly hold its weight any more. ‘Savine, tell me you’re joking.’

‘I’m not. He asked me to marry him. A lady of taste never answers right away, of course, but I’m going to say yes—’

‘No! Savine, no! He’s not … he’s not at all your type. He’s a wastrel. He’s notorious. He’s a drunk.’

Savine almost gasped at the hypocrisy but her mother caught her, fingers digging desperately tight into her arms. ‘You can’t marry him! He just wants your money. You just want his position. That’s no foundation for a marriage, you must see that—’

Lectures on the proper foundation for a marriage? From her? Savine shook her off. ‘It’s not about the money, or the position. I know everyone thinks he’s a fool, but they’re wrong. He will be a great king. I know he will. And a wonderful husband. I’m sure of it. He was there. When I really needed him, he moved mountains for me. People think he has no character but they’re wrong. I am what he needs, and he is what I need. What I didn’t even realise I needed.’ With him she could feel safe. Be the better person she had promised to become. With him she could turn her back on the horrors of Valbeck and look to the future. She gave a girlish giggle which was quite unlike her. ‘We’re in love.’ Fates help her, she wanted to sing it and dance around the room like a child. ‘We’re in love!’

Her mother was not dancing. She had turned positively ghostly. Now she sank down in a chair, one hand to her mouth. ‘What have I done?’ she whispered.

‘Mother … you’re scaring me.’

‘You cannot marry Prince Orso.’