Chapter Nine: Watching

As usual Korvethis was up and buzzing with some new gathering of some sort. Rylla knew that it had something to do with a foreign country, but other than that, she didn’t really pay attention. She was more upset at the fact that Orther told her in not the kindest way, that she was too much a child to actually be at the celebration and thus, would need to spend her entire day in the “children’s room”. Of course, the actual title sounded much more legitimate, The Young Lord’s Gallery, but Rylla very rarely called things more than what they were. 

The room was beautifully decorated, a light yellow hue with subtle white decor on the walls. The sitting room had been filled with food, games, books and a few servants who were instructed to keep watch over the young nobles. Rylla smirked and shook her head as she thought about how all the parents and guardians of these children sent them here thinking they were keeping them out of trouble, but in reality, they had gathered together the greatest concentration of unfiltered gossip in the kingdom. 

Rylla was one of the eldest there at thirteen. Cedoric was also stuck in the room, but unlike her brother who could belong in any room and be happy with whomever he was there to talk to, Rylla walked in already irritated. Not outwardly, of course. But internally she was screaming. It was pure torture to be sent to a place where there was a good chance she would have to interact with her peers. She might’ve had the same birth year or close to all these children, but her maturity level surpassed theirs ages ago. 

As she looked for a spot to claim for the day she walked past the group of bragging boys and giggling girls. All children trying hard to impress each other. There would’ve been plenty of ways she saw to escape, but as if her mother knew that’s exactly the first thought she would have, Queen Lioraen had made it clear that she was expected to socialize. So, as per usual, she found a bench that was covered in the warmth of the sun by a window and sat in one of the few places where she had a full view of the room and watched. 

Very quickly she was able to label most of the children in the room. Lady Aveline of Aerthos and Lady Sorina of Drennor were obviously close friends and had been for quite some time, but the third girl in their group, Lady Lyra of the Crimson Steppes was only pretending, she could see the hidden annoyance, the subtle eyerolls. 

A few chairs away was Lord Kellen of Ironhold, a third son, who made up for his place in muscles. Lord Rhys of the Whispering Coast was doing everything in his power to pull down the large arm of Kellen without success. Lord Jorin of Valara stood by both of them, hands clasped behind him, looking very nervous, as if he was supposed to compare. 

Lady Tamsin of Veridian stood by the food, looking towards the door, which was being opened for Lord Valens of Kyth, who looked at Tamsin for a good three seconds before Lord Silus of Aethel pulled him away. 

Rylla began mentally sorting them before she realized she was doing it. Aveline and Sorina, harmless. Lyra and Kellen, dangerous. Rhys and Silus, not useful. Jorin, interesting. Tamsin and Valens, potentially useful. 

As she made her determinations though, her eye caught someone new, someone sitting almost opposite of her. Curly black hair, dark complexion, more wild than the average noble. Unlike everyone else in the room, this new girl wasn’t participating in any social aspect of the day. She held embroidery cloth in her lap, but it was not being attended to. Her eyes were instead moving around the room, watching as she listened. The same thing Rylla was doing. She felt her head tilt in extreme interest as she watched the new girl, but it snapped back up when she realized that this unnamed noble was now watching her. They stared at each other for a long moment before the new girl smiled. Rylla’s eyebrows furrowed. The smile wasn’t friendly, but it also wasn’t hostile. It almost felt like acknowledgement. Like two hunters had spotted each other in the wild. 

Even with the new curiosity across the room, Rylla’s ears tingled when she heard Jorin speak to Lyra. The anxious boy had left his stronger counterparts and seemed to catch the Lady’s eye. Rylla’s eyes turned toward them, but kept her face away. His voice was shaky, as if he was saying something he shouldn’t be saying, maybe to impress Lyra. “If Lord Tristan was here I would be able to show you the skit that we created, it is quite entertaining.” 

“I’m sure it is, Jorin.” Lyra smiled with her subtle annoyance. “Perhaps, if you are so eager to share, you can perform with another lord? Perhaps Kellen?” 

Jorin looked back at the brute and his sheepishness intensified. “I would hate to perform our skit without Tristan. Perhaps another time.” 

“Lord Tristan isn’t supposed to be back from his travels for another year, isn’t that so?” Lady Aveline asked with a smirk. 

“My father says Lord Merrowyn is lying.” Rhys walked into the conversation. 

Lyra laughed. “About what?” 

Rhys shrugged. “His son.” 

Rylla made sure the conversation had her undivided attention. She noticed the new girl was also listening intently. Neither moved, neither spoke, both just simply listened. 

Aveline frowned. “What do you mean he’s lying about his son?”

Rhys took a step back and looked around the shushed room. Most everyone was watching him now. His chest shot out, realizing he had just said something very interesting. “He’s not studying in the south.” 

“Then where is he?” Lord Valens asked. 

Rhys shrugged. “At home.” 

“No he isn’t. My mother said nobody has seen him in months.” Kellen shoved his way into the conversation. 

“Maybe he’s dead.” Lyra said sarcastically. But sarcastic or not, the room grew louder with horrified fascination. 

Rylla remained quiet, and so did her counterpart. Still watching. Still listening, Still collecting. 

“My father said that’s why they’re rushing Lady Evelyn.” Rhys said, trying to control the conversation again. Rylla’s attention focused. A new piece of the gossip puzzle came into view. Lady Evelyne was Tristan’s younger sister, if she was being rushed…

“She’s getting married.” Aveline told everyone. 

“Already?” Sorina gasped. “She’s only twelve!” 

Aveline shrugged. “That’s what I heard.” 

“To who?” Tamsin asked, looking at Valens, who shrugged. 

“I don’t know.” Aveline said slowly. 

Rylla’s brain was already fitting the pieces together. It wasn’t unheard of for a lady to wed once they were proven capable of bearing children, but it was usually in their teenage years that courting and possible marriage began. But where was Lord Tristan and why was his young sister getting married so young? 

Alliance. The word rang in her head. If Tristan is sick, and Evelyne was suddenly being married off, then the family must be preparing for something or protecting something. Something like having succession problems. 

Though the room had burst out into a few mini conversations, it was Jorin’s meek voice that rang through. “My father said if Lord Merrowyn’s son dies before winter, House Ashvale gets everything they wanted.” 

Silence. 

Jorin realized too late he said something that was actually too much for the young lords to hear. The room exploded with dozens of questions, but Rylla stopped listening. She had gathered all the information she needed. House Merrowyn was hiding a dying heir, House Ashvale was negotiating a marriage alliance, and no one knows yet. 

As the gathering ended and nobles came to pick up their children, the watchful girl from the other side of the room lingered. Once there were only a few little lords left she approached. She didn’t look shy or nervous as her dark curls bounced around her confident face. “You figured it out too.” 

Rylla kept silent. She barely kept eye contact with the new girl. 

“The heir is dying.” the girl said. Rylla’s lips didn’t move. “And they’re marrying the daughter before anyone finds out.” 

Rylla’s lip turned up slightly. The girl definitely interested her. She was smart enough to reach the same conclusion. 

“Imagine what would happen if everyone knew.” 

Rylla’s lips curved down. Out of everything that was spoken in that room that day, those felt like the most dangerous words that had been spoken. 

Later that evening, after supper and all the visiting nobles and either left for their territories or retired to their chambers and the servants were clearing tables and the musicians had packed away their instruments, Rylla found herself walking in the halls to her mother’s chamber. She hadn’t been summoned, she rarely was, but Rylla usually found herself in her mother’s wing when she had been thinking. It was almost as if she needed her mother to filter out all her thoughts if she had been thinking too long. As she approached the chamber door one of the guards bowed to her and opened the door for her to enter. 

In her mother’s chamber, Lioraen had the lights dim as she sat by the fireplace, reading some sort of correspondence from the day. Several letters were scattered on the coffee table in front of her. As Rylla approached her mother didn’t look up, she kept reading her letter. “Did you survive your afternoon with the kingdom’s future nobility?” 

Rylla found a smile creep up her face, so she suppressed it. “Barely.” 

Lioraen smiled and giggled as she put the letter down and looked over her youngest daughter. Right away her happy expression turned into a more inquisitive one as she took her in. “What did you learn?” 

Rylla found herself breathing a sigh of relief. Her mother was the only one who really knew her. She hadn’t asked her what was wrong, or if she had learned anything. Just with one look her mother knew she was thinking over the information she gathered. She took a few steps closer before she knelt down in front of her seated mother. “Lord Merrowyn’s son may not be studying in the south.” 

Lioraen put her letter down on the coffee table in front of her and sighed. “May not?” 

“The information came from children.” Rylla explained. 

Lioraen nodded approvingly. “Good, continue.” 

“Lady Evelyne’s marriage appears to have been accelerated.” Rylla told her mother. 

“Interesting.” 

“And at least one noble family believes House Ashvale benefits if the heir dies.” 

Lioraen leaned back slightly and folded her hands together. One of her dark eyebrows rose higher than the other. If she had been distracted earlier, she obviously was not any longer. “What conclusion did you draw?”

Rylla hesitated, but the inside of her lip. She had an idea, but was worried to put so much confidence in incomplete information. “I believe the heir is ill.” 

“Why?” Lioraen asked quickly. 

“Because everyone is behaving as though something is about to happen.” Rylla told her. She had known Tristan as being one of her older brother’s friends. Thinking about his passing didn’t sit well in her chest, but there was too much coincidence to hope otherwise. She looked up at her mother, who had a slight smile on her lips. 

She rose and walked toward her window that looked over the courtyard. The moon was full and bathed the dark garden in its light. Rylla stayed kneeling, waiting as patiently as she could to hear her mother’s take on the conversation. “How many children heard this conversation?” 

“Most of the room.” Rylla admitted. 

“And how many understood it?” Lioraen asked, still looking out the window. 

Rylla put herself back in the room and to all the noble’s children who had questions for those who spoke. “Very few.” 

“How many assembled the pieces?” 

Rylla hesitated again. “...two.” 

Lioraen turned her view from the garden to her daughter. “You and someone else.” It wasn’t a question, more an observation.

“A girl named Gabryella…from the Sultanate of Qarthos.” Rylla admitted. Rylla learned more about her counterpart during dinner. The youngest daughter of the King and Queen who came to visit the Korvethis kingdom. The rest of her siblings were able to partake, but to abide by Korvethis’ custom, they had sent Gabryella to the children’s room.

Lioraen mouthed the name under her breath and looked away for a moment. “Tell me, Rylla. What would happen if this rumor spread tomorrow?” 

She took a moment to consider. “House Merrowyn would deny it.” 

“Yes.” 

Rylla continued. “Hose Ashvale would become cautious.” 

“Yes.” Lioraen nodded more vigorously. 

“The truth would become harder to find.” 

Her mother opened her eyes and smiled at her daughter. She walked back to her chair and sat before she grabbed her daughters hands and held them in her lap. “Information is like a seed. Most people dig it up the moment they find it because they are excited to show others what they have found.” She looked over to her coffee table full of letters. “Wise people let it grow.” 

“So…I should do nothing?”

“No.” Lioraen laughed softly. She then leaned forward so she was very close to her daughter. “Doing nothing and saying nothing are not the same thing. The moment a secret becomes gossip, it loses value. The moment it becomes understanding, it becomes power.” 

All of her thoughts, for a split second, seemed to organize themselves in her mind. House Merrowyn. House Ashvale. The daughter and the dying heir. The parents and the nobles whispers at court. It was all connected, as if invisible threads stretched between them; they all pulled on one another and thus, changed each other. And for the briefest moment, she could almost see it; threads stretching from House Merrowyn to House Ashvale, from letters to whispers, from marriages to inheritances. Every choice pulling another somewhere else. And then the sensation disappeared. Though she couldn’t put words to it, she started to realize that perhaps the most important things were worth watching a little longer before they were spoken about. 

The next morning the castle hummed with activity. Besides the common commotion of servants packing and unpacking trunks and trying to keep their large castle clean, there was a saturation of whispers in the halls. As Rylla walked around stealthily she realized that people were already talking about House Merrowyn. Some whispered about weddings, others talked about disappearances, but none were the complete truth. They were all rumors, only tiny fragments of truth. It was exactly what her mother predicted. 

“Rylla!” Gabryella called her name as she walked past the mermaid fountain in the public garden. The new noble sat on the edge as if she was there waiting for her, very deliberate. 

“Good morning Lady Gabryella” Rylla said walking up her the fountain. 

“I found out who Evelyne is marrying.” Gabryella smiled at her. 

Rylla remained calm, even though she found her interest perking. “Did you?”

“Lord Ashvale’s second son.” she told Rylla. 

It made sense, Rylla thought, with a marriage between the two, it would keep peace between the two when news came out of Tristan’s death. It would also demand Ashvale to protect Merrowyn while they waited for Evelyne to produce a male heir of her own. It was a very real succession strategy. 

“People would pay for information like this.” Gabyrella raised her eyebrows. 

Rylla looked down before turning to look at the new noble. She began to realize who she was dealing with. Gabryella didn’t gossip, not entirely. She was ambitious and clever and was willing to use knowledge. 

“Or perhaps not coin.” Gabryella continued and smiled. “Favors.” 

Her new counterpart wanted to tell someone. Maybe another noble girl or a brother, or even a parent, Just enough to start a chain reaction. “Imagine the chaos.” Rylla shook her head. 

Gabryella laughed. “Everyone scrambling to confirm it.” 

“Then Merrowyn would change their plans.” Rylla explained, Gabryella’s laugh disappeared. “Ashvale would deny everything.” Both girls stared at each other for a moment. “And we’d learn nothing else.” 

Gabryella was the most serious Rylla had seen her in the last day. She didn’t want to believe she was preaching, she instead was letting out all of their thoughts and explaining the possible consequences. 

“Right now nobody knows what they’re doing.” Rylla explained. 

“Except us.” Gabryella told her. 

“Exactly.” Rylla watched how uncertain the new noble looked. Before Rylla explained her thoughts it seemed like Gabryella had only used information as currency or a weapon; but for a few seconds Rylla gave her another possibility. Information would be invested, saved and allowed to grow. 

“How do you know when to use it?” Gabryella asked. 

Rylla wrinkled her forehead in thought. She didn’t know if she had a good answer. “I think if you reveal every secret you find, eventually people stop having secrets around you.” 

Gabryella’s eyes opened wide and she nodded with the confidence Rylla had seen before. There was an understanding between them that Rylla hadn’t felt before, even with her own mother. Rylla watched as she smiled like before, but it was a different smile this time. There was no competition in it, only respect. 

“You’re strange.” Gabryella laughed. 

“I’ve been told.” Rylla smiled back. 

“No…” Gabryella tilted her head. “You’re patient.” 

Rylla felt something in her then, when she realized she liked Gabryella. Not because they were friends, but because she was one of the first people her age who thought the way she did. 

Gabryella stood up and started walking away. “If I learn anything else, perhaps I’ll tell you first.” She turned and smiled at Rylla with a small nod before she left the garden. 

Rylla felt the new ideas expanding her world and what was possible. Everyone she ever met, Anyone she hadn’t met yet, they all had secrets. Some were dangerous, some were valuable, and some, if watched long enough, reveal where the future is headed.