Page 105 of Play of Shadows

Chapter 51

The Duke and the Dullard

I awoke, slumped in the embrace of an unexpectedly comfortable chair, to a blurry vision of alabaster and gold splendour. Despite being seated, I felt oddly tall, until a glance down at my feet revealed the three marble steps elevating me above the floor. I squeezed the arms of the chair, my fingers luxuriating in the soft padded covering. Closer inspection revealed a lustrous silvery velvet embroidered with blue flowers. Pertines, in fact.

Well, that makes sense, doesn’t it?

I couldn’t quiet my wheezy laugh. Burned by fire, beaten by Iron Orchids, knocked unconscious by the Black Amaranth herself, and now I found myself lounging upon the Violet Duke’s own throne.

And for my first act as ruler of this misbegotten duchy, I thought drunkenly,I hereby decree that everyone must stop naming themselves after flowers.

‘Damelas?’

My bleary-eyed gaze followed the voice until I located the firstsupplicant in what would no doubt be a long and illustrious reign.

‘Ah, Firan, old chum, here at last,’ I bellowed enthusiastically. ‘Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I summoned you. . .’

Duke Monsegino stepped into the moonlight shining through the magnificent curved panes of the throne room’s domed ceiling. His Grace appeared to be covered head-to-toe in blood and ashes– that, or he was wearing a scarlet silk shirt beneath a long coat of rich black brocade. Possibly the latter made more sense.

‘Are you all right?’ the duke asked. ‘You were. . . giggling.’

‘Merely the unfortunate consequence of having gone mad some time ago, your Grace. Why, even now, as you visit me here in what I am certain must be a suitably dank and dispiriting dungeon, my shattered mind conjures up elaborate delusions in which I find myself– and do, I beg you, forgive the disrespectful nature of these hallucinations– seated upon a rather magnificent throne.’

‘Less than a day ago I came to your dwelling and found the experience. . . enlightening,’ the duke said without sarcasm. ‘I hoped this conversation might be more constructive if you saw the world from my perspective.’

‘And a fine perspective it is,’ I said, patting the luxuriously upholstered arm of the throne. ‘A perfect stage for what I assume is meant to be a bold new production ofThe Duke and the Dullard.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Come now, Firan, your delightful aunt Kareija was at pains to tell me you were a lover of the theatre– surely you know the play?’ I leaned back against the throne and stretched out my legs, crossing one ankle over the other and gazing dreamily up at the night sky through the glass dome. ‘We begin with a melancholy monarch, new to his crown and yet already wearyof its many demands. Desperate for distraction, he offers his chamberlain . . .’– I gestured absently at Monsegino– ‘a bold wager: “Half my treasury will I stake upon my contention that so little is the regard given a duke in this benighted country that any dullard”’– I jerked a thumb at myself– ‘“could sit this throne a full year and not a single member of my court prove the wiser.”’

Monsegino’s lips pressed together, suggesting there were limits to even a duke’s patience.

I was of a mind to test those limits further. ‘Now, our chamberlain, exasperated by his liege’s contemptuous regard for the crown, decides to teach him a lesson. While the duke is away, finalising his marriage to a foreign princess, the chamberlain scours the land until he finds the most gullible man in the entire country– one who just happens to look exactly like the duke– and seats him on the throne.’

‘Damelas, in deference to your losses, I’ve humoured this long eno—’

‘Humour?’ I pointed to the duke with one hand while touching the tip of my nose with the forefinger of the other. ‘Exactly so, your Grace, because you recall what happens next, don’t you?’

‘That isenough. Your rendition of the Clever Jester routine is no doubt highly entertaining, but I brought you here t—’

I stamped my foot down on the throne’s marble pedestal and gave a roar of royal outrage worthy of Abastrini. ‘You dare speak to your liege this way? I asked you a question, impudent lout: what happens in the final act ofThe Duke and the Dullard?’

The seconds ticked away in silence until finally Monsegino yielded. ‘The duke returns to find the dullard’s haphazard rule far more auspicious than his own, with the land now prosperous and its people joyous.’

I clapped my hands together. ‘Just so.’

The muscles of Monsegino’s jaw tightened visibly. When hespoke next, it was through clenched teeth. ‘Are you trying to provoke me into imprisoning you, Damelas?’

I’ll admit I was dimly aware that exhaustion and heartache were a poor defence against a duke’s wrath. But the Belleza’s embers still burned in my throat.

I rose from the throne, carefully descended the three steps to the marble floor and bowed as deeply as my aching bones would allow. ‘Imprison me, your Grace?’ I asked. ‘What the fuck do you think you’ve been doing up till now?’

Monsegino’s fist clenched, his hand rose and I waited for a blow that never came. Allowing his arm to sag at his side, the duke asked, ‘Is it the foolish, broken heart of Damelas Chademantaigne who mocks me thus, or the reckless spirit of the Red-Eyed Raven?’

‘A distinction without a difference at this stage, wouldn’t you agree?’

The two of us watched each other in silence, then the duke sighed. ‘Insolence from an actor calls for swift punishment. If, however, it is Archduke Corbier who compels your words. . .’ The barest hint of a smile crossed the duke’s lips. ‘Well, technically, he outranks me.’

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