The Jack of Hearts (House of Cards Book 1)

Chapter 2 | The Game is Set

Jaquelle Rosalyne compelled Lady Yolanthe and the Lady Mina d'Olange to rise and follow after her in search of her reluctant guest.

She ignored the guards that jumped to attention as she crossed the deck, nor did she stop a trio from following after her and her ladies. The soldiers remained silent, but the jaquelle felt their unease spike when they realised her destination.

The Cluvani leapt in and out of the hollow hull of their ship a little ways down the peer, passing crates and water barrels over and down into the boat — their women taking equal work with the men.

Not that the jaquelle could readily distinguish them.

The female warriors did not differentiate themselves in dress or comportment, (but even a lack of beard was not a sure indication of the feminine).

Their only distinction was by clan: a hair style unique to each. Their given names gave the jaquelle no cue; they all sounded foreign and strange on her tongue.

And after one disaster when a mortified Lady Yolanthe addressed the (young and very pretty) Lord Adofo du Naitani as 'my lady', Jaquelle Rosalyne had pulled the ambassador aside during a banquet to coach her through the name, clan, and relation of all sixteen delegates.

There were two of each clan, eight women and eight men, ages ranging from eighteen harvests to fifty-one, with no titles or rank to determine their hierarchy.

The ambassador had hesitated when he had come to the Lord O'rian du Ibhere, confirming the jaquelle's assessment of his position.

As kin to the king, the delegation seemed to defer to him despite his youth. He was older than the jaquelle, though not exceedingly.

The jaquelle tucked her hands into her sleeves as a dockhand ducked out of her path.

It made Lord O'rian the obvious choice for her task. Influence was not always best wielded by the mind and force of Will. The more pieces she had on her side by the time she arrived in Fort Khadi, the better.

The delegates' chatter didn't lessen, but altered in tone as Jaquelle Rosalyne walked along the ship. One delegate called for Lord O'rian, "The queen has sent her bees."

Lord O'rian was an easy man to spot. Even though he was hunkered down in the ship over a ledger (Cezanne's proof that he could in fact read), his broad back made him stand out from the rest, and every time he spoke, his voice skipped like a flat stone across the water.

His hair was tied in a large knot atop his head, secured with a leather band. He had removed his cloak and tunic for labour or the heat, only wearing a charcoal doublet and belt over his shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows (exposing dark chorded forearms that made the ladies avert their eyes).

When the lord did not stand to greet them, the Lady Mina d'Olange, the daughter of an impoverished country lord, stepped forward and cleared her throat with all the culture and refinement of a dying man.

Lord O'rian rubbed his face, tucking his ledger and silver-rimmed spectacles into his breast pocket, and sharply addressed Lady Mina in Aertisian, «Would you kindly tell the jaquelle I do not have time to cater to her whims?»

Lady Mina's fingers dug into her skirts, pale eyes flashing. «His lordship will address her highness with respect.» 

The tired expression on his face tilted upward with a smirk, eyes flicking over her bright gown. «Are you going to make me, little squash?»

Lady Mina d'Olange touched her blunt nose, flushing with anger. The jaquelle reached out her Influence to steady Mina's mind, pressing dignity into the base of her lady's spine. There was no point letting emotion crease her paints and clothes.