Then reality hit. While he might unseat Jared and destroy Arontala, surviving was asking a lot of fate. Worse, there was the old betrothal contract, promising Kiara to the heir to the Margolan throne. He could not bear to think on that, to imagine Kiara given to Jared. He would have been willing to fight Jared to the death just to prevent that from happening, even without so much else at stake. Many a night he'd been unable to sleep, wrestling with the fear that he would not survive to marry Kiara.
He'd underestimated her. Kiara knew enough of war to realize that their gambit to unseat Jared was up against the odds. But it had been impossible to deny the attraction they felt for one another, even though Tris knew he should hold back. Kiara did not seem to care that their romance might cause a scandal, and she shared his loathing for Jared. And so, in the brief sanctuary of their stay in Westmarch, they had declared their love. Nothing about his feelings had changed since then; if anything, the peril at the citadel of the Sisterhood had deepened his resolve. But at the same time, between the dark sending and his own brush with death, Tris was torn, not wanting to cause Kiara pain.
Abelard's revelation forced Tris's hand. While the shift in the betrothal contract removed the scandal from their relationship, declaring their engagement would enrage Jared even more. Tris had no illusions that Jared wanted anything beside Isencroft's lands and satisfaction of his own lust, but he knew his half brother well enough to be sure that Jared would see their alliance as a challenge. Jared would be merciless in his revenge.
Tris rejected out of hand Abelard's suggestion of a wedding in exile. The phrase "secure the succession" rang of all the things that made him never want the crown. He knew that to be the heir meant to be brokered off like a prize race horse for breeding stock. It was one of the many things he was not looking forward to if he survived to gain the throne. He could not in good conscience put a wife and child in that kind of danger. And so he had not slept all night, arguing with himself over what to do, his heart aching at every option.
Since the conversation with Abelard a few days before, Tris had found no private moment to talk with Kiara. This evening, she lingered after dinner, as Carroway offered a preview of the music for the feast. When the music ended amid enthusiastic applause, Tris noticed that Vahanian offered to walk Carina back to her rooms. Carina had accepted with a blush and a smile.
Tris took Kiara's hand, deliberately falling behind the others. Knowing what he had to say left him dry-mouthed, and he decided that when it came to talk of marriage, both princes and plowboys were alike in finding themselves tongue-tied.
The great hall was garlanded for the feast It was empty for the moment, though the torches and candles that burned warned that its decorators might return before too long to finish their chores.
"You've been quiet," Tris said.
"Just thinking of Isencroft at Winterstide," she said. "It was always my favorite time of the year. I thought father knew how to throw a feast, but I'll admit that Staden puts our feast to shame."
"Kait always loved the falconing trials that came before the feast. Father kept the feast well, and I know Carroway is happy to have a real audience once more." Tris paused. "I've missed you, the weeks I've been at the citadel."
Kiara turned to him, lifting a finger to touch a newly healed scar on his cheek. "Carina won't tell me much about what happened there, but I can see it troubles her. You look so tired. I'm worried about you."
Tris drew her into his arms and kissed her, taking comfort from the moment, enjoying her nearness. She leaned against him, her arms wrapped around his waist. After a moment, she drew back, looking at him questioningly.
"What's on your mind?"
Tris tangled his fingers in her auburn hair. "I swore to you, back in Westmarch, that if I take the throne, nothing will be required of you-or Isencroft-by force."
Kiara kissed his hand. "I know"
"Abelard says that when your father sent the letter recognizing me as Margolan's rightful heir, that it changed the terms of your betrothal contract." The words just tumbled out. "He says it means that we're already betrothed."
Kiara gasped.
"I love you, Kiara. And I am willingly your betrothed." He swallowed hard. "But I can't-not now, not when it's so unlikely that I'll even live to take the throne. I can't ask you to be bound to me like that. I don't want to hurt you."
Kiara stood completely still. "And that will save my heart? To be betrothed in thought but not in deed?" The same pain that filled his own heart was in her eyes. "The weeks you've been at the citadel-every time I heard footsteps outside in the corridor, I was afraid that Staden was coming to tell me you'd been killed in the training. It's too late. I love you. It has nothing to do with that damned covenant, and it never did. My heart's already bound to you.
"If you... don't take the throne... I won't have time to mourn. Don't you see? I can't-I won't-let Jared use me to gain Isencroft. I've seen what he's done to Margolan. And I swear by the Lady, I won't be captured. So we'll be together-one way or another."
Tris's vision blurred. "Kiara, I-"
"We have this time, these days," she said fiercely. "Father and mother thought they had all the time in the world. They were wrong. Today is all we ever have. It's too late to protect me. We can deny the covenant, we can pretend that what's between us isn't here-but it's not going to spare my heart I love you, Tris. If these next few months are all we ever have, then so be it. Just don't make me lose you twice."
Her voice was firm, although her whole body was shaking. Tris reached for her and she fell against him, sobbing. He laid his face against her hair, knowing that she saw his own tears. "I didn't dare to hope that you would feel that way," he murmured, stroking her hair, holding her until the shaking stopped. "I want to marry you, Kiara. I want you with me always."
She pulled back far enough to look in his eyes, and she raised a hand to touch his tear-stained cheek. "I accept. And Istra damn the consequences!"
Chapter Ten
Vahanian felt his spirits rise as the preparations for Winterstide bustled around him at the palace. Principality's Winterstide celebrations were opulent, and Vahanian was impressed despite himself. Carroway had already won an esteemed place among the court musicians and entertainers, letting slip with a wicked smile that he planned to try out a song about their journeys. Vahanian could only hope that his part would be omitted.
His years of smuggling had never made him rich, but they had earned him more than a few enemies. Some of those enemies had the means to settle the score through bounty hunters. Once the struggle to win back the throne in Margolan was over-assuming he survived-Vahanian intended to use some of his reward money from Staden to pay off his remaining debts. He resolved to start fresh with his new holdings in Dark Haven. Between now and then, he was content to keep as low a profile as possible.
Vahanian was also well aware of just how close Principality lay to Eastmark, where he had disastrously crossed paths with Arontala ten years before. Although he had escaped a wrongful court martial and the royal death sentence that claimed his squadron, Vahanian suspected that the death warrant remained on the books. He was unwilling to find out, and leery of providing a target to anyone who thought to claim a bounty by delivering him across the border.
By the eve of Winterstide, Staden's palace was aglow in banks of candles. Velvet and brocade pennants with the four light faces of the Goddess fluttered in the cold night air, and bonfires lit the courtyards. Tempting smells of baking bread and roasting meats wafted from the kitchen, over the scent of mulled wine and warm cider. Before the feast came the day of fasting, from sundown the night before Winterstide through midnight on the evening of the solstice. Staden's court did not neglect the fast in preference for the revelries to come.
While the castle prepared, Vahanian sought out Carina. It was more difficult than he expected. When she was awake, she spent most of her time studying healing lore with Royster. Even with Kiara Carina seemed withdrawn, and Vahanian wondered
again about the terms of Tris's training with the Sisterhood.
He had glimpsed Carina in the crowd earlier that evening, when Tris had presided with Staden over the initial rites of the festival. Tris's presence as a Summoner made it possible to acknowledge parts of the liturgy that had gone unspoken and ignored for years, and the crowd was thicker than usual in anticipation. With Tris's help, Staden accepted the fealty of long-departed nobles whose loyalty or desire made them remain near the court. Tris stood with Staden as the king gave a benediction over those who had fallen in battle-no small number given Principality's popularity as a mercenary haven. Thanks to Tris's power, the war dead gained the power to make themselves visible, to receive the blessing of their king and his dismissal, freeing them from their oaths of honor and sending their spirits to rest. Other spirits whose tie to the palace outlasted life itself came to the ceremony, drawn by Tris's power. Staden was shaken to receive the blessing of long-dead members of the royal family, who had chosen to remain and watch over their descendents.
At the tenth bell, a large crowd gathered in the courtyard. Staden had ordered his servants to build a dais, and on the dais there were life-sized statues of the lady, one for each light Aspect, and on its reverse, its dark face. In the center of the dais was an altar covered with a cloth of midnight blue, decorated in a complex pattern of silver embroidery. Banked high around the large dais were rows of unlit candles. Vahanian waited in the throng, near the front but slightly to the side, out of old habit so that he might have the best view of any approaching trouble. He spotted Kiara in the crowd, and Carroway with the bards. Carina was with Kiara, in the front row. Vahanian wondered if Carina's position was out of reverence, or if she was on hand should Tris collapse from the exertion.
A red carpet defined a walkway through the crowd. Staden sat on a throne in a tall viewing box with the queen and Berry. But here, everyone had come to see the Summoner.
A hush fell over the crowd, and Vahanian turned. Tris stood at the far end of the walkway. He was dressed in gray with a heavy gray cloak, looking the part of a Summoner and, Vahanian had to admit to himself, every inch a king. Tris's long blond hair stirred in the wind as he strode toward the altar on the dais. Slowly, Tris climbed the steps and knelt in front of the altar. Vahanian saw Tris's lips move. The banks of candles burst into flame, lighting the night. From beneath the altar cloth, Tris removed a large honey cake and a tankard of ale, the traditional gifts to the Lady. And, on behalf of the vayash moru which were more numerous than usual in this night's crowd, he also set a flagon of goat's blood on the altar.
"Lady of Many Faces, hear me!" Tris began in a voice loud enough for all to hear. "Tonight, the veil is thin between our world and the next. Accept these gifts from your children, the living, the dead, and the undead, and show your favor."
The night seemed to grow even colder. All around Vahanian spirits gathered, far more numerous than before. Many found a place with someone standing in the crowd: an elderly man's ghost next to an old woman, a young mother's ghost beside a harried-looking young man holding a small child. Some of the vayash moru stood apart, while others were joined by the spirits. Tris was making it possible this night for the spirits that had chosen to remain with the living to be seen and to take part in the festival. In the crowd, Vahanian saw a vayash moru man who looked to be his own age in mortal years standing with an elderly woman who was very much alive. They were holding hands, and the woman inclined her head against the man's shoulder. Vahanian realized with a start that it was the gesture of a wife, not a mother. He could not look away. If they had been together when the young man was brought across, then decades would have passed, during which the young man remained unchanged and the years did their slow damage to his wife. Vahanian did not realize that Gabriel had slipped up beside him until the vayash moru spoke
"Some of us choose to remain among mortals much longer than others," Gabriel said.
"I just never thought-"
"Here in Principality, and especially in Dark Haven, such things may be done openly. In many other places we must watch over our families from a distance, to protect them from those who fear us."
Vahanian realized that Kiara was no longer alone. The spirit of a beautiful, sad-eyed woman stood with her, a woman whose unmistakable resemblance to Kiara must mean she was the late Queen Viata. With the king stood the spirits of several men, each clad in the formal robes of bygone days, the dead kings of Principality. Vahanian saw Carina startle, and noticed that she had gone quite pale. He followed Carina's gaze toward a spirit on the edge of the crowd. Hanging back in the shadows stood the ghost of a young man in his mid-twenties, dark-haired, in the uniform of an Eastmark mercenary. Vahanian knew by the resemblance to General Gregor that it was Ric, Carina's lost betrothed. He felt a stab of jealousy. Ric's memory, and Carina's guilt over Ric's death, were implacable rivals for her affection. The ghost stepped back into the shadows and vanished.
On the dais Tris stood, his arms outstretched toward the four figures of the Lady. "Thank you, Lady Bright, for the bounty of the fields and the vineyards, the health of our livestock, and the rains that sustain us. We ask your blessing on this kingdom, and we beg you to give succor to the spirits who do not rest and to Those Who Walk the Night, showing your mercy on us, the living, dead, and undead."
Tris lowered his arms. The candles dimmed, but did not go out. Around them, some of the spirits lost their distinctive form. Tris bowed his head as he turned toward the crowd. The cowl hid his face from view, but Vahanian could tell his friend was near exhaustion.
"He can't keep pushing himself like that-not if he's going to live long enough to challenge Jared," Vahanian murmured to Gabriel.
Gabriel followed Tris's exit. "He feels the burden of the Lady," the vayash moru replied. "There's nothing heavier."
Vahanian hoped for a chance to see Carina alone. He decided that the chapel was the place to wait after the ceremony in the courtyard, as the twelfth bells approached. As guests of the king, the palace's chapel was opened to Tris and his friends. It was there that Vahanian waited, expecting the opportunity to encounter Carina.
Vahanian staked out a shadowed corner of the chapel, watching as a steady stream of courtiers brought their gift of honey cakes and ale and lit candles in remembrance of a loved one. Finally, near the twelfth bells, when most in the castle assembled in the great hall in anticipation of the feast, he spotted a lone figure in green. Carina brought her offering to the crowded alter, made the sign of the Lady, and murmured the words of dedication, lifting a wavering taper to light a candle.
Vahanian fell into step beside her as she left the chapel. "Heading up to the feast?"
Carina shook her head. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."
"You've been pretty busy helping Spook with the witch biddies at the citadel."
Vahanian's irreverence made Carina smile. "You really are incorrigible," she murmured.
"Completely," he said, grinning. From a distance, Vahanian could hear the music begin in the great hall. "Come on. At least get some food. And who knows-Carroway said he was going to try out a new song he'd written about the last couple of months. You might be famous."
Carina blushed. "I hope not." She let Vahanian steer her toward the great hall, where they found food and ale set out to break the fast. She seemed to relax. From where they stood near the back of the room, they could see the succession of musicians, jugglers, acrobats, and parlor magicians begin the all-night revelries.
Although Carina demurred when the dancing began, the music seemed to lift her mood, and she did not press to leave. For his part, Vahanian enjoyed the long-overdue opportunity to talk with her. He had no doubt that Berry's endorsement had won him his initial acceptance in Staden's court, and that Tris's friendship along with his new title and lands made him more acceptable to the purists. But as the weeks wore on, he found himself included in the plans for battle and the preparations for war. He credited Staden with the rare genius to create a court where talen
t and ability counted at least as much as bloodlines. Some of that success emboldened him now, as he attempted to draw Carina out in conversation.
Carroway did debut his song, a spirited ballad about the caravan and its valiant defense against weather, bandits, and raiders. The crowd loved it, even as it became a moving lament. Vahanian saw emotions flicker in Carina's eyes that hinted at a more melancholy reception.
"I think it's really time for me to go," she murmured, stifling a yawn.
"Let me walk you back," Vahanian offered. "There's quite a crowd here tonight," he added before she could turn him down. "Staden can't know all of them personally. I'd feel better if I saw you safely to your room." His hand fell to the sword at his belt. At Berry's request, and in acknowledgement of their unusual circumstances, Staden permitted Vahanian the great honor of wearing his sword in the presence of the king.
Carina looked as if she might refuse, and then smiled. "Thank you. I'm a bit too tired to bash anyone with my staff tonight. Besides, I left it in my room," she joked.
The outer corridors were nearly empty as they worked their way from the public chambers of the palace. Carina slowed as they crossed an outdoor palazzo. Below them in the courtyard burned one of many huge bonfires that were part of the evening's celebrations. They could feel its heat and smell the rising smoke.
Carina was beginning to shiver, and he offered her his cloak. "I miss Winterstide in Isencroft," she said quietly. "It was always wonderful. I don't know if it will ever be like that again."
"Maybe not." Vahanian looked out over the courtyard, where the songs and merriment from within the palace were beginning to spill outside. "Things change. Sometimes, maybe even for the better."
Vahanian reached out and gently tipped Carina's chin up. Her expression was open, unguarded. "Something's been bothering you since we got here. Whatever happened, happened a long time ago. Forgiving yourself is hard. But the people who care about you would like to help you try." Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away, but she did not shrug off his arm from around her shoulders as they walked the length of the palazzo in silence. They stopped at the door to the rooms she shared with Kiara, and Carina slipped out of Vahanian's cloak.
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