by C. L. Wilson
The fact that it had meant something was terribly wrong with her.
Something that had nothing to do with Dilys Merimydion. Something that explained all the disturbing spikes of emotion she’d been experiencing since coming to Konumarr. The ferocious desire for a child of her own. The bursts of Persuasion she hadn’t meant to use. The crazy, driven way she’d responded to Dilys Merimydion. And of course, her uncharacteristic fury over Dilys’s dismissal of her charms.
Gabriella gripped the counter and stared at her reflection in the mirror hanging over the now-empty wash basin.
Dear gods. It had begun.
She was going mad, like her father.
Chapter 6
It took a full quarter of an hour of meditating on the jeweled charms of her mother’s bracelet before Gabriella was satisfied that she’d shored up the controls binding her most dangerous magic. She spent a few more minutes ensuring that her customary serene mask was firmly back in place, then exited the garderobe and made her way out to the private garden on the side of the palace where Khamsin, Wynter, Spring, and Autumn were already seated. Back in Gildenheim, Valik, Wynter’s second-in-command, and Krysti, Khamsin’s young ward, always joined the family for breakfast, but the two had not come to Konumarr. Valik had remained behind to oversee the rebuilding of Wintercraig’s armies after last winter’s battle with the Ice King, and Krysti had stayed with him to serve as Valik’s page and to begin his training as a knight.
“Ah, there you are, darling,” Spring said as Summer took her seat. “I was just explaining that that we were late this morning due to our engagement in . . . um . . . foreign relations.” She smiled and poured a cup of jasmine tea from the pot on the table and passed it to Gabriella.
“The Calbernans were awake, were they?” Khamsin lifted her own cup to her lips and regarded Spring and Summer over the rim.
“Surprisingly enough,” Spring said. “And looking none the worse for the lack of sleep or copious amounts of drink they imbibed last night. I understand their leader, Sealord Dilys, has a great fondness for Summerlean fire brandy.” She flicked a smirking glance Summer’s way. Gabriella quickly lifted her cup, pretending to hide a smile.
Wynter regarded his sisters-in-law with narrowed eyes. “Hmm,” he said.
“So”—Khamsin jumped in—“what do you think of the Calbernans now that you’ve spent a little time with them?”
“Well, I don’t know about Spring and Summer, but so far, I’m not disappointed,” Autumn said and launched into a series of amusing anecdotes about her adventures at last night’s welcome reception.
Gabriella let the conversation flow around her as she considered her predicament. Now that she knew she was going mad, she needed to formulate a plan. She couldn’t stay here and put her family in danger. Her magic, unbound, was far too dangerous. And as protective as her sisters were—and Wynter was showing signs of outdoing all three of them!—she couldn’t very well admit the truth to any of them. They would insist on keeping her close, trying to find a way to fix whatever was wrong. She couldn’t allow that.
Thankfully, Dilys Merimydion’s declared lack of interest provided the perfect excuse to make herself scarce. She’d just wait a few days until his preference for Spring and Autumn became too marked to be missed, then a few big, damp-eyed blinks, a little quaver in her voice, a tiny push of Persuasion, and her new brother-in-law would probably jump at the chance to help Gabriella put a little distance between herself and the latest suitor to reject her. As to where she’d go, well, she’d been wanting to travel north to the Skoerr Mountains to see the sun that never set. Once there, she’d Persuade one of the guards Wynter sent along to take her someplace else—someplace remote where her family would never find her and where there was no one around for her to harm.
“Helloooo. Gabriella?”
Summer blinked. Autumn was waving a hand before Summer’s face. “Oh, sorry.” Gabriella blushed. “I was lost in thought.”
“Clearly.” Autumn’s auburn brows rose and her mouth quirked in a teasing grin. “Those Calbernans certainly do wreak havoc on a woman’s concentration.”
Summer smiled serenely, refusing to rise to the bait. “Do they? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Ha! Liar!”
“I confess,” Khamsin said, “if I weren’t a married woman, I’d seriously consider a Calbernan suit. Dilys Merimydion and his men are quite easy on the eye.”
Her husband Wynter stiffened beside her, his brows drawing together. “I’m sitting right here, wife,” he growled.
She smiled and patted his hand. “I know, husband, and you are all that I could ever want or need.” As he started to settle, she added, “But I can still enjoy a nice view.”
He scowled, then abruptly switched to a smile. “Ah, so you are saying I should find a view to enjoy, as well?”
Now it was Storm’s turn to scowl. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Wynter laughed, a deep, hearty sound and with startling speed, scooped Storm out of her chair and into his arms. She squealed as he stood.
“Wynter! Are you mad? Put me down this instant!”
“I think not. Clearly, I’ve not seen to you well enough, if you feel the need to admire the view of other men.” He bowed to the Seasons, holding his squirming wife with ease. “Ladies. Enjoy your breakfast.”
The three of them watched in amusement as Wynter Atrialan, the fearsome Winter King, carted off their sister.
“Did you ever think, even once, that we’d ever see a sight like that?” Autumn said as Wynter paused to gaze down at his wife in open adoration, kiss her thoroughly, then disappear into the building.
“Never,” Spring replied.
“I never dreamt he could even be likable,” Autumn confessed. “Let alone lovable. But it’s obvious she loves him.”
“And just as obvious he loves her.”
Autumn sighed and put her chin on her hands, gazing at the now-empty doorway through which Wynter and Khamsin had disappeared. “What are the odds the rest of us will be so lucky?”
Spring reached for her teacup. “Slim to none, so don’t waste your time pining for it.”
Autumn grimaced and turned to scowl at her oldest sister. “Must you always be such a pessimist, Spring?”
“Being realistic isn’t the same as being pessimistic.”
“How strange, because it always sounds that way when coming from you.” Autumn stuck out her tongue and tossed her head. “On a more optimistic note, the Calbernans are famous for showering devotion on their wives. That’s close enough to love for me. Besides, I can think of many worse sights to wake up to than Dilys Merimydion.” She plucked a small bunch of grapes from the fruit basket and popped one in her mouth.
Heat spiked in the Rose on Gabriella’s wrist at the thought of Autumn waking up next to Dilys. To distract herself, she snatched up her silverware and began attacking her breakfast.
“While it’s true he’s certainly as handsome as any woman could want,” Spring admitted grudgingly, “I don’t like the way he was so dismissive of Gabriella this morning.”
Autumn frowned and leaned closer towards Gabriella in an instinctive shielding gesture Summer doubted she was even aware of. “He was unpleasant to Summer?”
As Spring caught Autumn up with this morning’s encounter with Dilys Merimydion, Gabriella polished off her plate of food and plucked a blueberry scone from the basket in the center of the table. She spread a dollop of clotted cream on the scone, added a smear of jam, and took a bite. Treating herself to something sinfully delicious was another one of the tricks she’d learned to keep her emotion-fed power from building up to lethal levels. She savored the meltingly delicious flavors of the scone, cream, and jam, focusing her attention on the pleasure of the delightful tastes rather than the tense, jealous anger bubbling inside.
“So, let me get this straight,” Autumn said as Spring finished bringing her up to speed. “You pranked the Royal Prince of Calberna, swapping out his water with a strai
ght shot of fire brandy that leaves him choking and sputtering in front of his men and an entire room of servants, and his only response is to laugh and applaud your temerity . . . and you think this is a character flaw? Do you even remember that dreadful Prince Berong’s reaction when I snuck the teensiest dose of itching powder into his laundry? He turned purple and ran around the palace threatening to behead people!”
Spring scowled. “Did you miss the part about the cavalier way Sealord Merimydion dismissed Summer as a potential wife? He’d made his mind up about her before he even met her!”
“He came with a plan,” Autumn corrected. “I thought that would appeal to you.”
Spring opened her mouth, closed it, took a thoughtful sip of tea, then admitted. “All right, yes. I do appreciate that he did his homework and came with a plan. That shows a degree of preparation and thoroughness that I find appealing. It’s a quality every leader should have.”
“And he’s got a good sense of humor, and a willingness to laugh at himself, which makes him even more appealing to me. And you—” She turned an admiring gaze on Summer. “Apart from my disappointment over you pranking a visiting prince without me”—Of all three Seasons, none loved a good practical joke more than Autumn—“all I have to say is, Well done, sister! I had no idea Gabi the Good had that sort of mischief in her!”
Summer blushed and took another bite of her scone, mumbling, “He made me mad” as she chewed.
Autumn gave Summer’s back a couple of congratulatory thumps and grinned. “I feel like a proud mama watching her fledgling take flight for the first time. All my pranking lessons over the years haven’t gone to waste.”
Spring cleared her throat and leveled a repressive look on the youngest Season. “Back to Sealord Merimydion. You might be ready to throw caution to the wind, but I’m not.”
Autumn’s grin became a scowl at her sister’s criticism. “There’s a difference between throwing caution to the wind and admitting that I found the man personable, witty, and charming—which I did. I’m just saying, we’ve had far more objectionable suitors paraded before us over the years. Honestly, Spring, why do you always have to look for the worst in people?”
“Because the worst is what most people try the hardest to hide, and I don’t like unpleasant surprises. I’d rather know the total truth—all the bad as well as the good—before I decide to bind the rest of my life to someone else’s.”
The irritation faded from Autumn’s expression. She reached for her tea glass, took a sip, and nodded. “Fair enough. You’ve always been the one who makes decisions with her brain. Gabi makes decisions with her heart.” She cast a fond smile in Summer’s direction. “But I’ve always trusted my instincts, and my instincts say we could all do a lot worse than ending up with a man like Dilys Merimydion. So, if neither of you are interested, I’m more than happy to keep our suitor entertained for the duration of his visit.” She reached for a fresh cluster of grapes from the fruit bowl in the center of the table, popped another glistening grape in her mouth, and smiled as she chewed.
Summer’s fingers curled tight. Autumn was a dazzling creature. If she set her sights on Dilys, he was as good as hers.
And that was all for the best, the rational part of her mind insisted.
But the mad, voracious, dangerously primitive part of her wasn’t listening. The tea in her glass was starting to steam again.
“I need to go,” Gabriella announced. She clung to her calm, congenial mask as she stood up. “I have loads of work to do before school starts up again on Modinsday. Lily had the wonderful idea of doing a dress up to get the children more interested in their history, but there’s an enormous amount of planning and preparation before we can get started.” She was intending to have the children use their math and problem-solving skills to plan the design, purchase, and construction of their costumes, but she needed to do all the calculations herself before assigning the project. A teacher should always know the answer before asking the question.
“I can lend you a hand, if you like,” Spring offered. “Seeing as how Autumn has volunteered to keep the Calbernan busy.”
“Very busy.” Autumn grinned and waggled her eyebrows.
Heat surged inside Summer’s skin. She turned from Autumn quickly, before the urge to turn her into a redheaded pile of cinders grew too strong to resist. “No, it’s all right, Vivi. I’m sure you have other plans for the day.”
“I don’t actually. At least, not at the moment. I’m hoping to get a package from Uncle Clarence soon, but it hasn’t arrived yet.” Uncle Clarence was their late mother’s brother and the current Crown Prince of Seahaven. Though their elderly maternal grandfather, King Eustace, was still technically the reigning monarch, Uncle Clarence had taken over most of the daily governance of the kingdom.
“Package?” Autumn, who was slathering clotted cream and jam on a pair of scones, stopped what she was doing to look up. “What sort of package?”
“Nothing that would interest you. Just some books.”
“Why is Uncle Clarence sending you books?”
Spring shrugged. “Because I asked him to, of course.” She smiled at Summer and looped an arm through hers. “Shall we go?”
“Wait. Why are you being so evasive?” Autumn was now standing with her hands on her hips, scones forgotten, eyes narrowed. “Exactly what sort of books is Uncle Clarence sending you, Viviana?”
Spring lifted her eyes towards the sky in a silent appeal to the gods of Halla, then heaved a sigh and released Summer’s arm to turn around. “Fine, if you must know, he’s sending me copies of everything the Seahaven royal archives have on Calberna and its people. Havenfolk have been mariners for thousands of years. I thought if anyone was likely to have useful information about the Calbernans, it would be them.” Small Seahaven’s economy was almost entirely tied to the ocean, unlike Summerlea and Wintercraig, whose primary industries were land based. “And before you chastise me about obsessing again, I sent the request weeks ago. Though, to be honest, I’d do it again.” She looked towards Summer as if seeking support. “I know I don’t have any proof, and I know you two both think I’m being ridiculous and obsessive, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something the Calbernans aren’t telling us. And I’m determined to find out what that is. Before one of us decides to marry their prince.”
Gabriella bit her lip. “Well, that’s a little embarrassing. I sent an eagle to Uncle Clarence yesterday before the Calbernans arrived, asking for essentially the same information.” She shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Spring’s astonishment. “Just because I wasn’t all worried like you doesn’t mean I didn’t trust your instincts. You were so convinced something about the Calbernans was . . . erm . . . fishy, I figured it would only be prudent to help you investigate.”
Autumn began to laugh. Her initial low, quiet chuckles rapidly rose in both volume and exuberance, until she was soon clinging to one of the chairs, and laughing so hard tears were running down her face.
“Honestly, Aleta,” Spring scolded, “it isn’t that funny.”
“Oh, it is,” she sputtered between laughs, “but not for the reason you think.” She caught her breath long enough to say, “I sent an eagle to Uncle Clarence this morning! For exactly the same reason as Gabi!” Then she exploded with fresh mirth, laughing until her knees gave out and she collapsed on the terrace with a plop. Her eyes widened briefly in surprise, but the fall only set her off into fresh gales of laughter.
Gabriella and Spring stared at her, then stared at each other, then they were laughing as helplessly as Autumn.
They laughed and laughed and laughed. And that laughter did for Gabriella what no amount of meditation could have: it stole every scintilla of heat from the jealous anger that had been building inside her and washed her temper away on a flood of happiness and sisterly love.
The sound of the three princesses laughing with such abandon brought smiles to the faces of the passing nearby servants and brought more than one Calberna
n—Dilys among them—out of the banquet room and into the hall, seeking the source of the delightful sound.
There was nothing quite like the sound of a woman’s joyful laughter. A child’s laughter had its own, special magic—filled with innocence and youth. But a woman’s laugh . . . the sound of a woman’s happiness warmed a Sealord’s heart and gifted him with a special spark of rejuvenating energy. It was one of the sweet rewards Calbernans enjoyed for ensuring a woman’s—any woman’s—happiness.
For some reason, the sound of the Seasons’ laughter resonated especially deeply with Dilys, gifting him almost as strongly as a physical touch. He closed his eyes, smiling, and let the radiant warmth of their joy wash over him.
“D’you think maybe they’re laughing over the fire-brandy joke?” Ari murmured beside him.
Still drinking in the magical sound of the Seasons’ happiness, Dilys shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I hope so, if it brought them this much enjoyment.” Other men might have found themselves nursing wounded pride at the idea of a woman laughing at their expense, but not a Calbernan. At least not so long as the amusement was not mean-spirited, which this was not. He swayed a little as a fresh burst of laughter sent even more power coursing through his veins.
“I think perhaps I didn’t give the Bridehunters enough credit for choosing my liana,” he said, feeling almost drunk on the laughter-borne rush of energy. “If a simple laugh from the Seasons is this powerful, Numahao only knows what great gifts a bond with one of them will bring.”
“What do you mean?”
Dilys opened his eyes and turned to Ari with a smile, thinking his cousin was teasing, but there was no spark of amusement in Ari’s eyes, only honest curiosity. “You don’t feel that?”
“Of course, I do. I’m not deaf. They have a rich laugh, but we’ve enjoyed laughter almost as rich before.”