Free The Rose Throne by Mette Ivie Harrison

her chaperones.
    Ailsbet could see the river Weyr just below, winding its way through the city, down to the ocean in the south and north to the center of Rurik, where it began. It was a faint green color, and the light glinted off its depths. The Weyr was wide and deep, and Ailsbet had distinct memories of once riding in a boat to see the whole of the city. She had begun by counting the roofs of the grand estates near the palace, but there were soon too many roofs to count. She remembered the thick, rotting smell of refuse thrown into the river and the smell of roasting meat.
    “Beautiful,” said Lord Umber. “As you are. With a hint of danger beneath.”
    Ailsbet turned back to him, preferring to speak of the flute. “It was a fine gift.”
    “You have an interesting way of speaking the truth,” said Lord Umber.
    “Are you saying that I am a liar?” asked Ailsbet, smiling in spite of herself.
    “Not at all. You are very careful in your truths. You simply choose to tell the ones that suit you.”
    “And that bothers you?” asked Ailsbet.
    “I hope that in time you will feel comfortable enough with me to tell me even truths you think I would not like to hear.”
    “And what would be the point of that?”
    “Truth itself?”
    Ailsbet smiled again. “You wish me to believe that you value truth for its own sake?”
    “I am from Weirland. We value the truth there,” he said.
    “I find it difficult to imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that,” said Ailsbet.
    “And yet I think it would suit you, strangely. I cannot think of anyone else in your father’s court of whom that could be said,” said Umber. “Certainly not your father himself.”
    “But he covets Weirland.”
    “Yes. He would enjoy knowing it belonged to him, though he would not visit it often, I think. It is too wild a place, too uncivilized and uncultivated. The wonders of the neweyr in the countryside would not suit your father. There are no cities there, and few buildings with the comforts your father would expect. Even the castle in Weirland isas small as a minor noble’s estate in Rurik, I think.”
    Was this a hint as to why Umber had given up his title and lands? Ailsbet thought over the implications of the fact that her father had taken in a traitor. Was it desperation or merely another part of his game? King Haikor was growing older, but she had not seen him begin to weaken.
    “I could guess at why this flute is not fit for a musician. It is not suited to your hands. It is too heavy. It is not the instrument that you have grown to love. But only you can tell me the truth of it,” said Lord Umber, drawing her back to the conversation.
    Ailsbet hesitated. “It has a shallow sound,” she said at last.
    Lord Umber put a hand to her chin.
    Ailsbet flinched. She was not often touched. It was against the law for any to touch the king without his permission, and the same austerity was extended informally to the rest of the royal family.
    “Do I look angry to you?” asked Lord Umber.
    Ailsbet stared into his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “You keep it veiled, but it is there.”
    He laughed, his face coloring to match his cloak. “Angry at myself, then, not at you. I wanted to please you with that gift.”
    “I am sure it sounds well enough for most ears,” she said stiffly.
    “But you have a finer ear,” said Lord Umber.
    Ailsbet sighed.
    Umber smiled. “Clearly, I thought too well of my first instincts. I assure you, the next time I bring you a gift, I shall make sure it is one that you will treasure. Will you trust me on that?”
    “Of course,” Ailsbet said. “What woman would say no to a man offering gifts?”
    “That is not what I meant,” said Lord Umber.
    Ailsbet hesitated, wanting to trust him. “Music is what I am,” she said at last.
    “But not all of what you are,” said Lord Umber. “You are your father’s daughter, as well, intelligent and witty and strong.”
    She was uncomfortable with his