“Does your village still hold the holy-water ceremony?” Contare asked Graegor. “I think most of the people around that lake took up the custom.”
Graegor nodded. “We’d all go down to the shore before dusk. After the priest passed around the water, we’d watch the sunset and try to see the green flash. Seeing it meant good luck.”
“The green flash,” Darc nodded. “I’ve seen that a couple of times.”
“I’ve never seen it,” Graegor grumbled. “Stood on the shore of that lake every Solstice, and every year some people said they saw it, but I never did.”
“Try watching from a tower next time,” Contare suggested.
“A tower?”
“It has to do with the angle of the light. You have a better chance of seeing it if you’re higher than sea level.”
“The times I’ve seen it,” Darc nodded, “it’s been from a high window.”
Graegor made a noise of disgust. “I wish someone had told me that before. I thought everyone was just making it up.”
Darc looked at Contare. “It’s sad to see him so cynical.”
“And at such a young age,” Contare agreed.
Waiting for Tabitha to arrive made Graegor fidgety. He tried not to think about her, but Tabitha always made her way to the front of his mind, no matter who he was with or what he was doing. Since their fight—since telling her that he loved her—since feeling how much she wanted him—he saw her more often, but the opportunities to kiss her seemed to occur less. Not that he thought about it any less. He thought about it constantly, at the theater, at the library, taking walks, or practicing magic together. Even when they weren’t together, like right now. He picked up the glass of iced tea and drained it, and focused again on what Darc was saying, like he should be doing.
He’d seen how girls reacted to Darc. He hoped Tabitha wouldn’t react the same way.
When her carriage stopped outside, Graegor sent to Richard that Lady Tabitha was here, and Richard went to the door. Months ago, when she had first started making visits, Graegor had answered the door himself, but it had annoyed her, and Contare had suggested that maybe she didn’t want him to act like a servant. So he waited until he heard voices at the door before he stood and went to the foyer.
Richard stepped aside, and there was Tabitha, a perfect flow of curving lines, slender and soft, her every motion as graceful as a dance. Her dress today was pale purple silk, with long sleeves and skirt and a higher neckline, suitable for the increased formality of the breakfast she’d just attended. It fit exactly, without any tugging or tightening. Her golden hair balanced perfectly on top of her head.
Honestly, what was someone like him doing with someone like her?
She gave him a warm smile, and Graegor reflexively reached for their link as he took her hand, but the silvery cords were blank and smooth as he led her to the parlor. He knew why. She’d told him before that she’d been trained from childhood to remember the name and face of every single person she met, and that fixing those details in her mind during those meetings required concentration. He found himself watching her face just as carefully when Contare gestured Darc forward and recited his title.
He saw her blink, and noticed her breath catch for the barest instant before she curtseyed. But she didn’t dip any lower than she had for anyone else he’d ever seen her meet, and when she rose, her smile was the same as that she would give to anyone—a foreign magus, a wealthy merchant, or a noble from her homeland. After Contare introduced her, she said, in very proper tones, “Welcome to Maze Island, your Highness. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Her eyes, though, were bright with curiosity.
“The pleasure is mine, Lady Sorceress,” Darc said formally. He showed no sign of being tongue-tied by Tabitha’s beauty, a condition that Graegor had seen afflict many magi, merchants, and nobles upon meeting her.
“Come, sit,” Contare invited, and Tabitha allowed Graegor to escort her to a chair. Fiona came in with a tray of fruit, cheese, and bread, and Karl followed her with a fresh pitcher of iced tea and a tall glass for Tabitha.
General comments about the weather and about the festival turned into a conversation about sailing. Tabitha talked about her father’s past victories against pirates near Thendalia’s coast, and she asked many questions about Darc’s own naval patrol. Darc obliged, but he kept a more formal demeanor, without any sardonic asides or other jokes. He certainly didn’t flirt. Graegor told himself that Tabitha wasn’t flirting either, and that the attention she paid Darc was because he was royal, not because he was handsome. He told himself that even if she was flirting, that was simply how she was, and he shouldn’t let it bother him.
But it bothered him a lot. When she complimented Darc’s fluency in Mazespaak, Graegor was sorely tempted to say something acid about her fluency in Telgardian. That made him realize how agitated he was letting himself get, and he had to slow down the dark purple knot of his gen before it could start spinning too fast.
She loves you, he told himself firmly. She said so. You felt it. She loves you.
Was it because they hadn’t slept together yet that he still didn’t quite believe it?
What was he going to do, now that Darc was here and he’d promised to protect him? He couldn’t do that and give Tabitha a romantic evening tomorrow. He’d have to cancel it. It made him seethe with frustration, but it was likely a much better plan than trying to work around this obstacle. Put it off until after Darc left. Two more nights wasn’t that long …
But Darc did want to meet Koren. Was there any chance that Graegor could pass Darc into Koren’s keeping tomorrow night?
He pushed aside the first answer of no. Instead he had to try to think of how.
He let part of his mind cook the idea as he forced himself to participate in the conversation. He didn’t want Tabitha to think that he wasn’t interested in what she said, even if everything she said was directed at Darc. Darc noticed it too, and eventually he answered one of her questions with a curious smile. “My lady, I’m afraid I may be saying too much, too freely. Did Lord Natayl ask you to take my measure?”
Graegor felt a tiny stab of irritation from Tabitha, which was normal when anyone mentioned Natayl. But nothing of it showed as she smiled indulgently. “Oh, no, your Highness. I have wanted to meet you for a very long time. Surely you realize that.”
Darc looked even more puzzled. “A very long time, my lady?”
“Since we were children, of course.” She tilted her head in a way that Graegor had always found both alluring and dangerous. “Surely you recall.”
“My apologies, my lady. Did you and your father visit Telgardia when you and I were little? I’m sorry that I don’t remember.”
Now Tabitha made a brief sound of exasperation. “Your Highness, your father and mine were negotiating a betrothal between us. Did you not see my portrait?”
Graegor stared at Tabitha. He reached for their bond, but she continued to ignore him. “You never told me about that,” he said aloud, trying his best to stay polite, but it came out accusatory, and it came out at both of them. Darc had never told him about this either.
But Darc seemed genuinely startled. “My sincere apologies, my lady. I was never told.”
Graegor then looked at Contare, who was sipping his iced tea and actually looking sheepish. “You knew,” Graegor said, and could not help feeling betrayed. Even though he shouldn’t. Even though it had nothing to do with him.
“I did,” Contare admitted. “But nothing came of it, and honestly I’d forgotten about it.”
Tabitha pursed her lips slightly. He could not sense anything from her as she said, “No, nothing came of it. But as a girl, I was of course fascinated with the idea of marrying a prince.”
“Had I seen your portrait, my lady,” Darc replied smoothly, “I would have begged my father to allow me to meet you.”
Graegor knew this was all courtly talk, full of overblown sentiments, but he still didn’t like it, especially when Tabitha
preened at it. “It is for the best, your Highness,” she said with a little sigh. “Your father’s was one of several proposals that my father considered. But in the end, we had to turn down all of them.”
Darc smiled. “To the chagrin of an entire generation of noblemen.” He looked at Graegor and said solemnly, “You hold a brilliant jewel, my lord.”
Don’t clench your teeth, Graegor told himself. Smile. Be gracious and courtly. “Well I know it, your Highness.”
Darc looked back at Tabitha. “I imagine your new role took your father by surprise, my lady.”
“It did,” she nodded. “But he has adjusted. He is even considering marrying again.”
Graegor didn’t know what one had to do with the other, but both Darc and Contare seemed to understand. “I am sure he will choose wisely,” Contare said.
“It has been a long search,” she said, “but there are some excellent candidates available, highborn widows of proven fertility.” She saw Graegor’s expression and smiled. “Graegor is not accustomed to the realities of dynastic marriages, I venture to guess,” she said to the others, and he couldn’t tell if she was being reassuring or condescending.
“They seem cold,” he murmured. “My parents got married because they were in love.” But it sounded childish even as he said it, and he wondered if he was just repeating something that he wanted to be true.
“Mine grew to love one another after they got married,” Tabitha said, “and maybe yours did too. They probably met and liked each other, and their families decided that they were suitable partners for their trades. They are craftmasters, right? Most guilds in Thendalia, at least, don’t allow a master to operate his own shop until he has gotten married.”
Graegor wanted to object, but found that he couldn’t. His mother had said that they had moved to Rock-in-the-Lake after their wedding because the little artisan village happened to need a chandler and a woodwright. But what if they’d decided to get married specifically because the village needed a chandler and a woodwright?
“Forgive me,” Tabitha said suddenly, and she seemed truly contrite. The silvery threads felt warm with her apology. “That was not very kind of me. You, of course, know your parents.”
“It’s all right.” He smiled at her, and his pulse quickened when she smiled back. He had to force himself to remember what they were talking about. “My parents, well, I know that they really love my home village, at least. Neither of them wanted to raise children in a big city.”
“Oh!” Darc exclaimed suddenly. “Your sister. I did as you asked.”
Tabitha raised her eyebrows. “What did he ask you to do about his sister?” she asked Darc.
“I warned the castellans in Suhnhafen and Saracry that our little duchess-in-waiting might show up on Torahn Island unannounced.”
“The ancestral Torchanes holdings?” Tabitha asked in surprise. “Would she really do that?”
Graegor had told her that he worried about that very thing. “She’s fearless,” he said. “I keep expecting her to show up here. She wants to visit the library.”
“I don’t blame her,” Darc said. “How much time will we have to visit landmarks? I have a long list.”
“You should have some time both today and tomorrow,” Contare said, and glanced at Graegor. “I can take care of a few of our obligations myself.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“This evening, though, we’re visiting quite a few hospitals. And we have the holiday service at the basilica tomorrow morning.”
“And the Godsday service in the evening.” Graegor looked at Darc. “Don’t you love it when a holiday lands on a Godsday?”
“It is a lot of sitting still in a single day.” Darc agreed.
Tabitha was shaking her head. “How I wish I could go to the basilica with you! But Lord Natayl has not attended regular services there for years now. He insists that we go to private services at the cloister’s chapel down the street.”
“Oh, why is that, if I may ask?”
“You may ask.” She smiled. “But it will not avail you. He has never explained it to me.”
Darc looked at Contare with a raised eyebrow, but Contare shook his head. “He’s never explained it to me, either. But he doesn’t like appearing in public at all anymore, so it’s not just the basilica.” Then he made an on the other hand gesture. “He does find the Archpriest particularly irritating.”
“Which is saying a lot,” Tabitha said, “considering how irritating he finds everyone else.”
Darc glanced from Tabitha to Contare. “I get the feeling I should be glad I won’t be meeting this man.”
Tabitha laughed, and Contare smiled and shook his head. “Are you still planning to go to the games and races with your friends tomorrow afternoon?” he asked Graegor.
“Yes.” He looked at Darc. “If that sounds good to you.”
“Absolutely. The Hippodrome and the Colosseum are near the top of my list.”
“We’ll try to get to a few more, too,” Graegor promised. “The Avenue of Obelisks isn’t too far from here, and we’ll see the Lord’s Chimes at the basilica.”
“Are the Suspended Clocks on your list?” Tabitha asked Darc.
“Definitely, my lady. Oh, that reminds me. I was wondering about this. Is there a single holy hour on Maze Island, or does each race have its own?”
“It’s Godsday evening at the eighteenth bell,” Contare said. “Some of the non-L’Abbanists religions have rituals on other days, but we agreed on that hour for timekeeping purposes.”
“In fact,” Graegor added, “the Suspended Clocks have a built-in pause for that hour before they start again, by themselves.”
Darc looked interested. “I’d like to see that. Is there a chapel near there?”
“There’s a chapel inside it, specifically so people can see the clockworks move and stop. They don’t even use an hourglass.”
“Can we do the evening service there instead of going to the basilica again?”
“Sure.” He glanced at Contare, who shrugged in assent.
“Don’t forget,” Tabitha said to Graegor, exactly as he hoped she would, “we will be attending the choral review tomorrow evening.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” He knew that this might not work. He knew that this probably wouldn’t work. But if he could arrange things so that Darc and Koren could join him and Tabitha at the choral review, and if Koren liked Darc enough to want to spend more time with him, then there was a chance that she would agree to safeguard him for the rest of the evening. Maybe they could go to the Central Quarter’s street festival with Jeff and the others.
Contare was looking at him. “You promised the captain that you would keep his Highness safe,” he said. He glanced at Tabitha apologetically. “You may need to change your plans.”
“Or his Highness could come with us,” Tabitha said immediately, smiling at Darc. “It will be a wonderful series of performances.” She did not turn to Graegor to see if he agreed.
“I look forward to it, my lady,” Darc nodded. He, at least, did Graegor the courtesy of looking over at him and asking, “Is that all right? Assuming we can find someone for me to escort. I’m afraid I’d feel tremendously awkward, otherwise.”
“I understand,” Graegor said. So far so good. But Darc had to be the one to suggest Koren. If Graegor himself suggested it, it would never happen.
“I know,” Tabitha declared as he paused. “My dear friend Maga Attarine de Jasinthe would be very suitable. She is a lovely girl, your Highness, from one of Thendalia’s oldest families. And she simply adores choral music.”
Contare shook his head regretfully. “My lady, Maga Attarine would be fine company at any other time. But when I consulted his Majesty, he was insistent that very few people know that his son is here.”
“But she would never tell anyone about his Highness,” Tabitha objected, her tone wounded.
“Nevertheless, I fear I can’t allow it.”
“What about Lad
y Koren?” Darc suggested, his eyes bright and hopeful. He gave every impression of being completely oblivious to the fact that Tabitha did not like Koren, even though Graegor suspected he knew. “Lady Josselin already knows I’m here, right?”
“She does,” Contare nodded.
Graegor had not sensed anything, anything at all, from Tabitha’s mind at the sound of Koren’s name. He held his breath as the three of them looked at her. She looked stunned—which he was sure she was—but then she shook her head slowly. When she spoke, her voice was mild and her tone dubious. “I really can’t imagine that Lady Koren would ever agree to come.”
“Can we ask her?” Darc’s enthusiasm was undiminished as he looked from Graegor to Contare.
“We can ask her,” Contare agreed.
“What have you heard about her?” Tabitha asked Darc.
Darc blithely ignored the implication behind her tone. “She’s the Khenroxan sorceress, so of course I need to learn all I can about her.” He smiled. “Just as I must learn all I can about the Thendal sorceress.”
She smiled back. “Your princely duty?”
“Naturally.”
Graegor still couldn’t sense anything along their bond, and anxiety twisted his stomach as Tabitha set aside her glass and stood. As the rest of them hurried to do the same, she said, “I fear I must now take my leave, my lords, as my schedule is quite full today. I’m sure you understand. It was wonderful to spend time with you, your Highness.”
Shit. He’d ruined it. As he stood up and watched Tabitha exchange farewells with Contare and Darc, he mentally pounded his head against the wall. He’d ruined it. He should have canceled their evening instead. At least then she wouldn’t have been this angry at him. He’d thought that Tabitha wouldn’t object to a simple evening at the theater with Koren, but he’d been stupid. It wasn’t that Tabitha didn’t like Koren—it was that she hated her. Anything involving her made Tabitha react like a merchant being robbed.
It isn’t too late, he told himself as he followed her to the foyer, where Richard had appeared to open the front door. Although Tabitha walked through the doorway without looking back at him, he still followed her, all the way down the steps to where her carriage waited in the warm sunlight. The threads of their bond were twisted tight, and he knew she would not allow him to touch her mind, so he spoke aloud as her driver climbed down to open the door for her. “Tabitha?”
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