Battle: The House War: Book Five by Michelle West Read Free Book Online

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    Speculation about the intentions of the Kings—and the Lord of the Compact—was dire; given the constant press of emergencies that now constituted her life, Jewel avoided those discussions whenever possible.
    She’d had less luck avoiding the bards of the bardic colleges, because at this point in her early tenure she had two in residence. They were young enough not to be master bards, and nervous enough—when they thought no one was looking—to be careful, but they were
also
charming bastards. They reported to Solran Marten, the Bardmaster of Senniel College. She, as anyone with the ability to form half a thought knew, reported to either the Kings, or the Queens if the Kings were otherwise occupied.
    The Exalted were also uneasy with the newest in the line of Terafin rulers. The Guildmaster of the Order of Knowledge had likewise expressed reservations. Hannerle was, at the moment, asleep in the West Wing, but when she wasn’t, her room was a silent battleground of anger, guilt, and fear. Haval could hide it all, of course; Hannerle couldn’t.
    But again, all of these were things she’d expected.
    What was unexpected was the sudden diffidence shown her by every servant in the manse. Every single one. Even Merry. Oh, she knew they’d always stretched all the rules of etiquette when they worked in the West Wing, making allowances—as Merry called them—any time the Master of the Household Staff was absent.
    Since the day Jewel had left the Council Hall as The Terafin—with only two abstentions in the vote, those being Haerrad’s and Rymark’s—the servants had been uniformly perfect in all of their interactions. They replied with actions, and only spoke if words were utterly necessary; they no longer smiled, nodded or—gods forbid—laughed. They looked at Jewel only if she gave them a direct order, but absent that order, they looked through her or past her. It didn’t matter whether or not the intimidating Master of the Household Staff was even present.
    Jewel felt like a ghost in her own home.
    You are not Jewel Markess ATerafin
, the Winter King said. He could; he was at a distance somewhere in the wild garden.
You are now an office; you are the reason House Terafin exists; its leader and its rule. It is not an office you made, Jewel. It existed before you, and it will exist when you die. The fact that you fill it lends color, personality, and direction to that office—but it is not you, and it is not entirely yours. They understand, even if you do not, the respect that office
must
be given if the House is to endure.
    She didn’t bother to answer. Instead, flanked by six of the Chosen—and Avandar, who stood closer to her than her own shadow at high bloody noon—she examined the library’s shelves. She had always loved this library, with its long, empty tables and its high, high ceilings which nonetheless let in light, be it sun or moon. But she had come to realize in the past few weeks that part of what she had loved about it was the quiet, steady presence of Amarais. Paying her predecessor the final respects that were her due and her right hadn’t laid the sense of loss to rest.
    She should be used to it. She’d done this before.
    “Terafin,” Avandar said.
    She turned to face him, one thick and scuffed leather volume in her hand. “I’ve got it.”
    He nodded, as if the book had no significance; to Avandar, it had little. “You have three hours in which to prepare for your first public outing as The Terafin.”
    She hesitated for a long moment, and then slid the volume back onto the shelf.
    * * *
    Haval was waiting for her in the West Wing in what had become her fitting room. He had already set up the tools of his trade; the stool upon which she might stand for adjustments in length of hem, the spools of thread and needles of varying thickness, and the pins which were such a necessary annoyance. Although Snow lounged in the corner, he had failed to insist on the creation of any new