Shifting Loyalties

by Melissa McShane

  “I don’t understand,” Liliana said, pouting.

  “Don’t pout, Liliana. You’re too old to get your way by pouting. It just makes you look stupid and weak.”

  “I’m not stupid and weak!”

  “Then don’t act like you are.”

  Liliana frowned. “I’m glad you’re not leaving. You’re the only one who talks to me like I’m a grownup.”

  “That’s because I’m not good with children. Alaric’s the one who knows what to say.” The thought of him hurt her heart.

  “I like him. Why don’t you marry him?”

  “Because I’m the heir.” Explaining their inability to have children one more time was beyond her. She was tired, and miserable, and in that state she almost felt it would be good for her to leave Alaric, so he could someday marry a Sassaven woman and have the children she was sure he wanted. After they freed the Sassaven from the wizard who’d enslaved them. Which couldn’t happen unless Sienne remained with them. The ache inside her redoubled.

  “I’m going back to my room,” she said. “I’ll see you later. And…thank you for being willing to help me escape.” She almost added I guess you’re not the brat I thought you were, but realized in time how cruel that would be and refrained.

  “Are you really going to eat in your room?”

  “If I don’t, I might kill someone with my dinner knife.” Though if that someone were Rance, probably nobody would mourn too loud or long.

  She trudged back up the stairs to her room, only realizing after she shut the door that the room was occupied by the one person she wanted to see less than her parents. “Rance!”

  Rance turned away from the window. “They’re not taking any chances with you, are they,” he said, gesturing at the nails.

  “I guess not. What do you want?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Just to talk. You could be a little more polite. I haven’t done anything to you.”

  A dozen possible responses sprang to mind, but she went with, “Not today, anyway.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Rance, I’m tired and I’m not interested in conversation. If you have something to say, say it, and then please leave.”

  He took a couple of steps toward her. “I wanted to apologize.”

  It felt as if he’d knocked the wind out of her. “What?”

  “I’m sorry for how I treated you. My parents convinced me I needed to marry Felice for my family’s sake. I tried to tell them I loved you, but they didn’t care. I should never have gone along with it.”

  Sienne blinked at him. Then she laughed.

  Rance frowned. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  “Because you’re so good at pretending to be sincere. You’re going to blame our mess on your parents? Let me guess. They want you to convince me to marry you so you can still be duke of Beneddo someday. If you’d tried this any other day, I might have believed you. Or did you think you should strike while I was at my low point?”

  “Sienne, I’m telling you the truth. You were my first love, and I’ve never stopped—”

  “Loving me?” Sienne stopped laughing and took a step closer, putting her within arm’s reach of him. “Let me remind you of what you said the day you told me you were marrying Felice. ‘Sienne, I know we’ve had fun together, but we always knew the day would come that we’d have to part. That’s how these childish romances end. I hope, now that we’ll be brother and sister rather than lovers, you’ll feel the same affection for me I always have for you.’ Childish. Fun. Affection. Those were your exact words, Rance. Did you think I’d forget? Because those words burned inside me every day for months.”

  Rance reddened. “I…was just trying to make the best of it. Pretending I didn’t love you with my whole soul. I thought that would make it hurt less, but I was wrong. Being with Felice only made it worse, because you’re so much alike and yet so different.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t bring up the woman you are still married to when proposing to someone else. Aren’t you a little early off the mark?”

  “Our marriage was annulled three days ago. I would never do anything like that. I do have scruples, Sienne.”

  He sounded so offended Sienne backed off. “Sorry. Is Felice still here? Or did she move out?”

  “She’s still here. Did she say she was going to move out? I knew she had a lover on the side!”

  “So did you, Rance. Don’t get all high and mighty or I’ll tell Papa.”

  Rance’s red face went pale. “You wouldn’t. Who told you? That bitch Lorana—I knew she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.”

  “Lorana Doxus?” Sienne laughed. “You could do better than that. Maybe I will tell Papa, after all.”

  Rance grabbed her arm and squeezed hard. “You do, and I’ll…I can make you suffer.”

  Sienne faced him without a hint of fear, barely feeling his rough grip. “No, you can’t. And I won’t tell Papa so long as you convince your parents not to ask for the marriage settlement back.”

  “I can’t do that!”

  “Of course you can. As if your family will even miss the money. Of course, you could have your affair become public knowledge. That will make it very hard for you to win a titled wife, since you know how noble houses feel about bastards, or scandals.”

  “Everyone has affairs. It’s no secret.”

  “Yes, but everyone isn’t someone like you, with more money than lineage. You’re held to a higher standard than they are. I know, it’s not fair, but nothing in life is, right?”

  Rance released her. “They won’t do it.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  He tried once more. “Sienne, I thought we had something special. I was so happy to learn we could finally be together. Please, my darling, marry me.”

  “I don’t love you, Rance. And I don’t believe you love me.”

  He gave her a look of perfect wounded sorrow that made the laughter bubble up inside her again. “So you won’t have me,” he said.

  “Rance, I wouldn’t have you if you came gift-wrapped in a box full of puppies. Now—get out. And I hope you find happiness someday. It just won’t be with me.”

  He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. “Are you sure?” he said, and leaned in to kiss her.

  Even though she wasn’t expecting it, even though she didn’t want it, she had to admit Rance was a very good kisser. But although he’d probably intended his kiss to make her fall into his arms, all it did was remind her that the one she wanted to kiss was nowhere near, and if he was, he’d probably take Rance’s head off for taking liberties. So she let him kiss her, patted his cheek, and said, “Goodbye, Rance.”

  Rance looked puzzled. She wondered how many women he’d tried that on, and how many had succumbed to his considerable charms. Then he said, “All right,” and left the room. Sienne sank onto the bed and wiped her mouth clean of his kiss. She missed Alaric so much it hurt. Briefly she reconsidered running away. But no, this was still the option most likely to get her what she wanted. Even if it was agonizing in the short term.

  She took off her boots, lay on the bed, and studied the mystery spell until someone knocked at the door an hour or so later. It was a servant with a covered tray. Her earlier defiance about eating with the family had faded as her hunger grew, and she was glad her parents hadn’t taken her demand to starve seriously. She balanced the tray on the little round table and ate quickly, then set the tray outside in the hallway and returned to her bed. The room was growing dark, so she made a handful of lights and sent them flying around the room until that got boring, then opened the spellbook again.

  The mystery spell was obviously a summoning; she could tell that by the language it used. So that limited the possibilities of what it might do. Summonings, unlike evocations, dealt with the physical world—calling creatures into being, yes, but also manipulating water or stone, not to mention the various transport spells. She was l
ess familiar with summonings in general than she was with the other three spell languages, but she was certain this spell was meant to either bring something from somewhere else or possibly create something out of nothing. She didn’t know how summoning creatures worked any more than she knew where the water she created with her small magic came from, whether it was actually created or was pulled from the air around her, as she’d always been taught.

  She went back to tracing the sharp, staccato lines of the spell. No, it really did look as if it was intended to bring something from somewhere else, not create it. But what? The summonings she’d been shown at school all had elements that would constrain the thing they were summoning, but that was because they summoned things that might turn on the wizard if they weren’t controlled—monsters, or swarms of vermin. The students had all whispered rumors of a spell that would summon one of the devils that carried away souls not deserving of God’s grace, murderers and rapists and so forth. And this had no constraints written in.

  Well. With no constraints, it probably wouldn’t summon something dangerous. Or it would, and the ancients were so confident in their magic they felt equal to handling whatever they did summon.

  Sienne rolled off the bed and stood with her back to the door. One thing she did know was how to alter a spell to last as long or as short as you wanted, and with a summoning, that meant limiting the time the summoned thing was present before it was whisked back to wherever it had come from. She’d once asked a teacher whether it was too disruptive to pull monsters out of their place in the world and then send them back, and the teacher had gotten angry and made her write an essay on the magical ecology of tree-cats. It hadn’t been that irrational a question.

  Now she cleared her throat and read off the sharp, jagged syllables. They stung her lips and the insides of her cheeks, and she tasted blood. Swallowing, she pressed on, feeling the world stretch and pull around her. The air shimmered like heat haze, stronger than anything she’d felt before, and she blinked to moisten dry eyes before spitting out the last of the blood-flecked syllables.

  The air contracted, thickened, and a small black shape shimmered into being near her feet. It plopped down on its hindquarters and looked up at Sienne, breathing heavily. Its little tail wagged. “Ohhhhh,” Sienne exclaimed, bending to pick up the puppy and cradle it close. It put its tiny paws on her shoulder and licked her face once, then let out an excited yip. “You are adorable. I can’t believe the ancients had a summon puppy dog spell. It’s just ridiculous, except you are so cute. Yes you are!”

  She set the puppy on the bed and watched it walk around on unsteady feet, sniffing its surroundings. Surely this couldn’t be what the spell was supposed to summon—but what else could it be? Spells did one thing, and you could alter their duration or shape or who they affected. And if you got them wrong, they did nothing but give you a bloody mouth or leave you tasting honey for a week.

  She picked up the spellbook and retraced the lines. Now that she was looking at it again, she could see it was more ambiguous than any other summoning she’d learned. This syllable…well, what if you pronounced it differently? Or this one? It would still be a recognizable “word,” if you could refer to a spell in such a mundane way.

  With a pop, the black puppy vanished. Sienne felt a momentary pang before reminding herself that the puppy no doubt had a home somewhere, and it hadn’t just been destroyed. She read the spell again, altering the central syllable, and watched the thickening air with excitement.

  This time, what appeared in the shimmering air was much bigger. Sienne bit back an excited shriek. The wolf was full-grown, sleek and gleaming, with sharply pointed ears and a long nose that nudged her hand, looking for pettings. Sienne had seen wolves before, out in the wilderness, but they had been shy, feral creatures, rough-furred and dirty, not clean and alertly intelligent as this one seemed to be. She stroked its head and whispered, “This is incredible. A spell that summons more than one thing. I wonder if it’s all dog-like creatures?”

  It wasn’t. After summoning a hawk, a raccoon, a giant blue frog, and, horribly, a dolphin that thrashed helplessly on her floor for a full minute before disappearing, Sienne had exhausted the pronunciation possibilities of the mystery spell and given herself the beginnings of a headache. She was too excited to care. A spell that varied depending on how you pronounced it…that wasn’t just going to make their fortunes, it was going to make them famous. Assuming she was ever in a position to sell it.

  She put her spellbook away and lay on the bed with her eyes closed, willing the headache away. There was so much more experimenting she wanted to do, if only she had the resources, and so many questions. How long could a summoned creature be made to stay? What could they be commanded to do? If the wolf was any example, the creatures were smarter than average and more inclined to obey their summoner. Though that might not be true of the dolphin. And, most importantly, did she summon the same animal every time? With the puppy, that would be easy enough to prove, if it aged as time went on…

  She massaged her temples and tried to calm herself. If the king didn’t summon her immediately, she would have time to work out the details, if only because she couldn’t imagine her mother wanting her to accompany her on social calls, or her father asking her to sit in on ducal judgments. It would keep her from going insane with worry.

  She dismissed her lights and lay in the darkness for a while, then rose to hunt through the clothespress for a nightgown. It felt like giving in, but she was tired enough and elated enough by her discovery that her angry resentment was dulled to a quiet ache instead of white-hot fury. She still wasn’t going to wear the gowns. Tucked into bed, she let a few tears fall, but exhaustion caught up to her before she could do more than that, and she slept.

  22

  No tray appeared the following morning. Sienne sat cross-legged on the bed, getting hungrier and more annoyed by the minute. Finally, she got up and went to the door, slamming it behind her. She still feared her hunger enough that continuing to go without food felt worse than the humiliation of appearing to have given in to her parents.

  Back in Beneddo, breakfast was a casual thing, with all the dishes laid out on the sideboard for the family to help themselves to and coffee and juice in carafes on the table. It turned out her parents had kept the tradition here in the capital. She was late enough to the table that only her brother Alcander, usually a late riser, was still there, along with a maid who was clearing plates. Alcander’s eyebrows went up when he saw her. “Sienne! What are you doing here?”

  She bit back a rude comment—she liked Alcander, and none of this was his fault—and said, “Apparently I’m staying here for the duration.”

  “Apparently? What does that mean?”

  She filled a bowl with porridge and stirred in cream and sugar. She could take it to her room, avoid any more uncomfortable conversations like this one was sure to be, but that would make more work for the servants. “It means Mother and Papa have decreed I’m to give up my degenerate lifestyle and start behaving like the heir.”

  Alcander’s eyes narrowed. “They forced you to return home?”

  Sienne slammed the bowl on the table, making the porridge slop over the rim. “I have a home, Alcander. This is not it.”

  “We’re your family, Sienne. This will always be your home, no matter where else you live.”

  He sounded so reasonable, so pained, she couldn’t stay angry with him. She dragged a chair away from the table and sat, poured herself some orange juice, and took a bite of porridge. It was too sweet, but she choked it down anyway. That, at least, was her own fault and no one else’s, not like everything else she’d endured since yesterday. “Why can’t you be the heir?” she said.

  “The same accident of birth that put you in that position,” Alcander said. “It’s sensible, really. Letting the dukes name their own heirs would cause a feeding frenzy as all their children fought each other for the honor. Think of how a titled father or mother could control the
ir children’s lives by dictating what behavior would please them most. This way is more sensible.” He took a long drink of his coffee. “I suppose you could do something reprehensible, get Father to cast you off.”

  “I can’t imagine anything I could do that would be that bad. I’d end up hating myself.”

  “Then you’ll need a royal decree. Forgive me for hoping you don’t get it. I don’t want to be duke.”

  “You’d be a good one. You already know all the landholders by name and you understand the law.”

  “Yes, but I hate public speaking. I want a nice, quiet office somewhere I can advise people on drawing up their wills.”

  Sienne spooned up more porridge. “I guess it’s Erianthe who wants to argue cases publicly. I hope she can go to school.” She remembered her encounter with Rance and hoped he’d taken her threat seriously. She might hate her parents, but the last thing she wanted was for her sister to lose her chance at her dream just because they couldn’t afford her education.

  “I don’t see why not. She’s dogged in getting her own way.” So Alcander didn’t know about the financial situation. It reminded Sienne that she wanted to see Felice, find out what her plans were. Maybe if her parents were outraged by Felice’s intent to live with her lover, they’d ease up on Sienne.

  The door opened. “Sienne! Good morning,” her father said. Sienne took another bite of porridge and ignored him. “I hope you slept well,” he went on. He wasn’t really going to try to pretend everything was normal between them, was he? Well, Sienne had mastered patience in the years she’d been a student at Stravanus. She could be silent for days if she had to.

  Papa helped himself to a couple of slabs of ham and sat at the head of the table. “Your mother intends to pay some calls this morning,” he said. “I’m sure she’d want you to go with her. They’re all people you should know when you’re duchess someday.”

  Sienne continued to ignore him, focusing all her attention on the last scrapings of porridge. Someone had painted a picture of cheerful daisies on the bottom of the bowl before turning it unbreakable. She traced the petals with the tip of her spoon and envied the bowl’s maker, who probably loved her work and had never had anyone threaten to take it from her.