“Speaking of Dasnarians, Captain Harlan pulled me aside to ask about you.”
“Did he, now?” I’d known the man was up to no good. “What did he ask and what did you tell him?”
“You needn’t interrogate me.” Dafne’s tone was deliberately mild. “He mentioned that you’d taken a hit in practice with the Hawks earlier and wondered if it happened often.”
“And you said?”
“That, yes, like any soldier, you train hard and take your knocks.”
“Good answer.”
“I would not betray your secrets, Ursula.” She said this softly, threaded with meaning. Of course she saw more than she let on. A keen and discreet observer. I was fortunate to have her aid. Along with her discretion. A court like Ordnung’s ran on a delicate balance of sensitivity and blind eyes. It would never do to imply the High King wasn’t above the law, much like a force of nature. Everyone understood that. Or, if they didn’t, suffered the consequences.
“Well handled—thank you.” I pulled off the practice clothes and sponged myself down.
“He also asked why you hadn’t wed before your sisters and wasn’t it traditional for the eldest to marry first.”
I made a noncommittal sound, though that was most interesting. Did he wonder about the order of succession? Perhaps he sought to discover more around the circumstances of Andi’s defection to the Tala.
“I told him that it had been your choice not to marry.”
“True enough.”
“I didn’t know if it bothers you, that Hugh fell in love with Amelia instead, so I did not reveal that he’d been your intended. Though I suppose it was common knowledge at the time.”
I pulled on a serviceable enough court gown—light green, but who cared?—and laughed. “Upset not to marry the golden prince? He was pretty enough, and a decent fighter, but no, we would not have matched well.” My mind, however, did not stick to those early days. Instead my hands remembered the heaviness of my blade cleaving Hugh’s neck and the emptiness of his eyes staring up at the sky, as his blood stained the snow around him. Ami knew the truth of it now—that we had lied when we said that Andi killed him. Other than my Hawks, Dafne, and a few of Rayfe’s men, no one else knew.
I’d killed other men and women in the course of battle, but none I regretted that way. If I had married Hugh as intended, and we’d stood on that pass together, with Andi throwing herself in front of Rayfe to thwart Hugh’s sword—would I have acted the same way? Where would my loyalty have fallen then?
It didn’t bear thinking about, because I hadn’t thought then. Instinct, long honed after all these years of protecting my little sisters, had spurred me to act. Very possibly I could never do otherwise.
I made it to court before Uorsin. A mixed blessing in that it spared me that long walk down the center aisle under the King’s scrutiny with the nerve-wracking puzzle of assessing his mood. Captain Harlan, however, had preceded me and stood to the right of my throne as he had the day before, applying his own watchful gaze.
Ignoring him, I stepped onto the dais. Then barely stopped from drawing my sword when he moved to take my hand to assist. Sliding the sword back in the hand’s breadth I’d pulled it, I steadied myself by smoothing my thumb over the topaz in the hilt, while the mercenary held up his palms in a mock surrender that only served to point out my nerves.
“That should teach you to touch me without permission,” I told him under my breath as I sat.
“Simple courtesy. Your people practice the custom also, I’ve noted.”
“Not with me.”
“No. You stand and sit alone, don’t you?”
“Don’t make more of it than it is.” The courtiers and ambassadors mingled, having quiet conversations. Derodotur passed among them, gathering petition scrolls for him to order for the King’s review.
“You have cold hands,” the mercenary commented, also looking out over the gathering crowd.
“Always have had.”
“In Dasnaria we have a saying—‘Cold hands, warm heart.’ ”
I snorted quietly. “Which goes to prove that Dasnarians know nothing.”
“Or that we understand more than you realize.”
The Dasnarian woman entered the hall then, wearing that same cloak as if it weren’t warm weather and us indoors. Even from this distance, her eyes burned like smoldering coals and a chill pricked the back of my neck. The topaz seemed to warm under my thumb, until I forced myself to take my hand away, lest it appear I contemplated drawing my blade against her. Which I did, but it was impolitic for anyone to know that.
“Illyria, Mistress of Deyrr,” the mercenary captain said, still speaking for my ears alone.
“One of your company? What is her specialty?”
“Not mine. She’s no fighter, which you knew the moment you laid eyes on her.”
“Not true,” I countered. “With the archers and similar specialists it can be difficult to discern, until they take up their weapon of choice. They are still lethal, under the right circumstances.”
“She is dangerous all right, but not in the way you might think.”
The woman stared at us, giving me the uneasy impression that she listened to our conversation, though that should have been impossible. I’d learned better, from encounters with the Tala, to reclassify my definition of impossible.
“I’ll explain more tonight.” The captain turned his face away from her to speak to me, warning clear in his gaze, as if he thought she eavesdropped, too.
“At dinner, yes, that will be fine. I often entertain informal audiences at that time.”
He laughed and shook his head. The herald trumpeted the arrival of the King and I turned all of my attention to the matters at hand.
Formal court dragged on without a break until well into the late afternoon. Many of the petitioners, I suspected, had awaited my return to approach the High Throne, in hopes that I might temper the King’s rulings. In easier times, I had sometimes been able to. Not with things as they stood now.
The wisest, most experienced courtiers knew better than to bring forth any obviously contentious issues. The unwise quickly learned that lesson. Ambassador Laurenne had not attended court today, which spoke volumes. I was not the only one to carefully track Uorsin’s temper and plan accordingly. We all most benefited from biding our time until he calmed or news arrived to alter the current tense situation.
Much as it pained me—for a number of the pleas were important, and denied due to the King’s foul temper—I could not afford to appear to be in anything less than complete agreement with my father, on even the most minor of issues. Not that it appeased him. He seethed still, avoiding looking at me or addressing me directly.
Court ended with still no word of Amelia’s party. A bad sign that neither Uorsin’s spies nor my scouts had found any trace of them, something that deepened the restless dread tightening my spine and further infuriated Uorsin. His uncertain temper on top of my own fears pushed me closer to the edge of losing my equanimity. Ash was a largely unknown quantity to me—but he possessed Tala blood and tricks aplenty. He no doubt enabled them to evade us. They might even be inside Annfwn, as I knew Amelia had found her way past the barrier before. What worried me most was that they’d conceal themselves so well that I wouldn’t be able to find them, should the worst occur.
Visions of those possible scenarios plagued my mind and made my heart race with the forced inaction.
Thus, I greeted the ultimate adjournment of court—and Uorsin’s precipitous departure—with great relief. My back ached from sitting on the hard throne all day and I envied the mercenary in being able to stand. I’d barely stepped down from the dais, ignoring Captain Harlan’s offer of assistance, when my fighting instincts roared to alert, warning me of attack.
My hand went to my sword, but I saw nothing. Where was it? The mercenary captain keyed in to my alert, tensing beside me. I followed his gaze to the seemingly serene glide of Illyria toward us.
Goddesses guide me.
“Your Highness.” The woman curtsied with perfect form but somehow made it mocking. She wore the dark cloak, a deeper red than dead blood, though the crowded hall had grown warm with too many bodies and late-day heat. Her fair hair, nearly a white blond, tumbled in glossy locks only shades darker than her white skin. Beautiful, except for those lusterless black eyes that she flicked at Captain Harlan in implicit demand.
“Your Highness, may I present Illyria, Mistress of Deyrr.”
Her bloodred lips thinned ever so slightly at the title. No, they were not friendly, by any stretch. He’d spoken the truth.
“Illyria,” I acknowledged. Then waited pointedly.
“I wonder if you might grant me a boon, Princess.”
I didn’t reply, letting the nerves that shouted to pull my sword translate as impatience.
She smiled, displeased that I made her chase what she hoped to gain.
“I’m interested in an ancient artifact rumored to be found in Ordnung. The Star of Annfwn.”
Only iron control kept me from reacting to that. No one but Salena and Lady Zevondeth had ever used that name. Our secret. How in the Twelve did this Illyria creature know about it? Locking down the flare of unaccustomed panic, I kept my hand unmoving on the hilt of my sword and my face as bored as possible.
“I have never heard of such a thing. But then, I rarely concern myself with artifacts. Perhaps you should consult our archivists? You’ll forgive my hasty departure. I’ve a number of things to see to before supper.”
Illyria’s white face chilled, but she acknowledged that I’d dismissed her with a flicker of her dead eyes that promised retribution. Who was this woman?
I strode out of the hall, not the least bit surprised that the mercenary followed, pacing me easily with his longer stride. I stopped at the archway to the arcade, placing myself squarely in the middle, to make it clear that going farther would be counted a trespass. Unfortunately that put me face-to-face with the man.
“What’s the Star of Annfwn?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“As I said—no idea.”
“I think you do know. We must discuss this.”
“Must we? I doubt I have time for that.” Deliberately, I yawned, though I lacked enough sleep that it overtook me, cracking my jaw. “My pardon. I had a late night.”
“Have you reviewed the contract yet, Your Highness?”
“One of the things on my schedule.” I hoped. I’d sent the request via page, for that and several other documents that would create the overall impression that I was simply performing due diligence and catching up on the affairs of the Twelve. Which, in truth, I needed to do.
“Good. You can give me your take on it when we meet tonight. Note the section that binds me to act to protect you, if you will.”
“I doubt that will change my mind—about anything, Captain.”
He caught my elbow as I turned to leave, as he had the night before, angling away just enough that I couldn’t jab it into his gut as I’d been halfway to doing. Absorbing the energy behind it, he used my momentum to propel me against him. I recovered fast, but he made a show of steadying me. “Watch your step, Your Highness. Meet me again tonight in the courtyard,” he added under his breath.
“Thank you, Captain.” I gave him a steely look that had leveled lesser men. “When Danu grows pink roses.” I turned my back and strode away, aware of that low, nerve-caressing chuckle following after.
9
With no word—official or otherwise—about Ami, Ash, or any of them, I resigned myself to waiting as best I could, and I spent a few productive hours reviewing the Vervaldr contract before dutifully descending for supper. It steadied me that the scrolls I requested had been delivered so readily. It indicated that the King had not given any formal orders to cut off my access.
Derodotur had described the terms fairly enough and the document impressed me in its thoroughness and logical clarity. Had the brutish Captain Harlan drawn up the contract himself? It seemed unlikely. Though he might be more articulate than the typical hired thug, I doubted he had that sort of education. Else, why be a mercenary?
Supper was a quiet affair, as Uorsin did not show. Whispers implied that he closeted himself with the Dasnarian witch. I knew well how much the court at Ordnung loved to throw that term around, so I told myself to take it with a grain of salt. Still, from seeing the woman, I wondered how much of that might be accurate. She made my skin crawl. The mercenary captain had called her the Mistress of Deyrr—clearly a Dasnarian term that might not translate to Common Tongue.
She was not mentioned in the Vervaldrs’ contract, unless I’d missed the reference. I didn’t think so, however, as all other specifics had been very clear. An unusual and concerning omission.
The mercenary captain didn’t show for supper either, for all his insistence on talking with me, which meant I sat alone at the head table. Usually I minded that not at all, but the quiet on top of the growing worry over Ami ate at my nerves. Truth be told, I missed the minstrels. They added a welcome distraction when conversation became scarce. And nobody was conversing. As if all possible topics carried too much gravity, given the tension in the air. We all waited for further developments, as if under siege.
I ate quickly, with thoughts of making an early night of it. Some more time with the documents I’d requested—due diligence meant more than an excuse, after all, and I worried over what besides today’s petitions might have gone neglected—some wine and peace, and I might be able to sleep. The best option, as I wouldn’t be wearing myself out with a late-night workout, since I had no doubt the determined captain wouldn’t hesitate to seek me out in the private courtyard again. The contract damnably gave him and his designees access to all of Ordnung, even the family quarters, in the name of personal protection and security.
On one level, it made sense, to use the otherwise idle mercenaries so. On the other, our personal guard had nothing else to do. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what Uorsin was thinking. Either he played a deep game that I hadn’t sorted out, or . . . Or he’s gone out of his mind with paranoia. The traitorous thought made me feel ill and I left the table without finishing my meal.
It worried me deeply, in a vague, formless dread that added to my uneasy stomach, that Illyria had asked after the Star of Annfwn. Walking through the hallways alone, I let my fingers pass over the round of the topaz embedded in the hilt of my sword.
Mother had given it to me for my seventh birthday. That had been a good day. Andi, still a toddler in the nursery, had stayed behind, and Salena took me for a rare outing, pulling rank to get me excused from the practice yard. She rarely did so, but when the Queen took it in her head to require something, no one stood in her way. Even Uorsin, though he fumed, backed off when she gave him a certain look.
Though no one spoke of it outright, power had hung about her like a rumble of far-off thunder that’s felt, not heard. When she pinned Uorsin with that storm-cloud glare, the hair prickled on the back of my neck, standing up as if a lightning bolt might stab from the sky at any moment. Though his face turned signature red, he’d backed up a step and then flung up his hands, ordering us out of his sight, as if that had been his idea all along.
My gut had twisted with a blend of terror at disappointing him and sheer awe that my mother could accomplish what no one else could.
So, for that birthday, I’d had my mother all to myself. The best of her, too. She’d been happy, with her hair brushed and hanging loose. We took a picnic and rode up into the hills above Ordnung. She sang songs in the oddly liquid Tala tongue and told me stories of Annfwn.
“I wish we could go now,” she’d said, her gaze focused west. “If I could, I’d take you and Andi and we’d ride over the mountains. You should see it. The water is bluer than aquamarines and as warm as a bath. You can run or ride on the beach for days, whiter than snow and brighter than diamonds. No need to bring picnic food, because you can pluck fruit from the trees.”
I laughed. “Fruit doesn’t grow on trees!”
“You are so like your father, with all his fire and certainty. I want you to keep the best of him and discard the rest. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” Her gray eyes had turned serious, the air thickening with the ominous pressure of a summer storm, though the sky remained pure, cloudless blue.
I didn’t understand, but the way she seemed to look through me, seeing something else, filled me with apprehension. “Let’s go, then,” I urged her. “We’ll sneak Andi out of the nursery and go tonight.”
“Ah, my brilliant and brave daughter. If only it were so easy.”
“It can be,” I insisted.
“I have to stay this course I committed to long before you were born. One more daughter for the world. And you”—she stroked my hair, long like hers then—“you have to stay in Ordnung, with your father. It won’t be an easy path. The one of duty and honor never is. I want you to remember that, in the long years ahead, that I understand what you’ll go through, that it’s a path I myself chose. In that way, you are the most my daughter. To help you remember that, I have a gift for you, to honor your natal day.”
She’d wrapped it in a piece of silk tied with a ribbon, and I untied it eagerly, catching my breath at the sight of the orb. Perfectly round and smooth, flawlessly golden, like the sun at high noon. I held it up to the sky and it seemed like a second star, glowing from within. My mother wrapped my hands around it, folding its light into my palms.
“I brought this from Annfwn. It belonged to my mother and her mother before her, back more generations than I can count. Keep it with you, always. Remember that you are the daughter of queens as well as of a king. A star to guide you. The Star of Annfwn. I hope you get to see Annfwn, but . . .” Her voice caught then, silvery eyes glistening, and for a terrified moment I thought she might break our rule and weep. She stopped herself, however. “But if you don’t, you’ll have this piece of it. Don’t let anyone take it from you. You will need it someday. Follow your dreams when you do. And remember my love goes with you, always.”
The Twelve Kingdoms Page 8