Teri McLaren
Since that trouble with the juma some years back, his eyes had slowly begun to fail him. But he was certain there was a cure. For enough money, Maceo was also certain he could have it.
"When? I don't know when. I have only just proposed, Riolla. Is that not enough? Are we not engaged? I know you have no naming ring yet, but it is being specially prepared for you. You know there is the waiting period for your purification. Though I can barely wait to take you to wife, my darling, no Mercantan comes to the rank without undergoing a time of fasting, a time of self-denial, a time of change. A time, well, of accounting. And I want to be invested beforehand. My father's year of mourning has only just begun. I am king, yes, but officially, I cannot make policy until his year is passed. It is an evil beginning to take a throne before your predecessor is properly mourned."
"I do not have time for mourning, my dear," Riolla cooed, draping her veil over her face. "Grave things are afoot."
Maceo looked up from his medicines, finding something about her tone of voice disconcerting. Riolla smiled, meeting his glance with a look of total innocence.
"I have a short trip to take, Maceo. It's business. I want us to be married immediately after I return."
Maceo held his head back and dropped silvery fluid into both eyes, trying to relieve the pain. Nothing had worked for months now. He was all but broke from trying to pay the physicians, and the thought of that lustrous black pearl leaving his presence was almost more than he could stand.
No matter, he would soon be king. What did that mean? If Riolla left him for another, if he did not take this opportunity, all he could see was an image of himself penniless and blind in the Barca, and worst of all, the object of ridicule and disrespect. They would demand a new king, one with the necessary funds, someone who could bring back the grain. The Fascini
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would pass him in their chairs as he stumbled around the streets. They would mock his clothes and toss him coins. Even Claria wouldn't marry him then.
He became just the tiniest bit depressed when he thought of Claria. She had been so wonderful to him, so genuine. What a pity she had absolutely no chance of ever rising through the circles to become anyone he could actually take to wife. She seemed to really love him, had been so upset when he had to break it off. If only she'd had a name! Didn't understand at all about Riolla, and, well, the necessity of making the right marriage, even if it wasn't the best one. Pity about the ring, too. He should have asked for it before he told her; Claria's fingers always swelled when she was upset. But he'd get it back when he was king. Maybe get her back, too.
Maceo brightened at that thought and put another couple of drops into each eye. Someday he'd make her see… it had been so awful telling her, and now all this. He sniffed, wrestling his thoughts back to Riolla.
"Well… I suppose I could find a way to shorten the mourning and the waiting period, since, of course, I am king now, and your purity is renowned, my pearl." He dabbed at his eyes, thinking quickly. "Why don't I stay here and get things in order… and when you return, we will be married."
"What a brilliant idea, my dear. I can hardly wait. You will be true to me, won't you? I shall count the hours while we are apart." Riolla ran her hand along the edge of a gilded dagger, one of twelve that decorated her bedroom wall, arranged equally apart in a circle around the two faces of Nin, their edges forming rays like a noonday sun.
Maceo nodded vigorously, still unable to see.
"You gave your magical ring to Riolla, that-that power-grubbing, backstabbing she devil? Riolla the