The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Then why?”

  “It’s too dangerous.” He held up a hand. “No—before you start—they’re not prevented. But a woman can be forcibly impregnated, and the risk of being unable to return is very high. We dare not allow Tala children to grow up outside Annfwn. For their sakes.”

  “But Salena left.”

  “Exactly,” Terin inserted. “And look what happened.”

  “Men cast seed,” I pointed out.

  Rayfe’s gaze darkened. “Men do not make full Tala children. Though they are strongly discouraged from doing so”—he raised his voice and the soldiers around us grinned—“should a Tala male bed a non-Tala female, the child will never shift.”

  “You’re not concerned about those children being out in the greater world?”

  He cast a sideways glance at me, his profile sharp. “We do not . . . worry about them as much.”

  “Why?” I pressed. “From what you say, I carry this trait and I was just fine growing up out there. My sisters, too.”

  “Were you, niece?” Terin sneered from behind us. “Are you sure?”

  “What does that mean?” I twisted on Fiona’s back to see his expression. His foxy eyes simply glittered with what looked like anger.

  “This is not the place to discuss such things,” Rayfe said quietly, but with the force of command.

  I concentrated on the sights and sounds of Annfwn, willing to drop the subject in this very public venue. Still I flicked a look at Rayfe to let him know this conversation wasn’t over. This couldn’t be all about recovering Tala progeny, because Rayfe hadn’t tried to take Ursula and Amelia, too. But then, perhaps that’s what he meant about me carrying the mark. They might not have the shape-shifter blood. It seemed to be important for whatever more Rayfe wanted from me, and I might be one of those who just couldn’t shift, which would mean he had gambled a great deal to recover nothing.

  Not just Rayfe, but Salena, too.

  I also thought uneasily of the vial of blood I’d left behind, which Lady Zevondeth had been so eager to obtain. What did she plan to do with it?

  We rode higher, past the market levels and into what looked like residential districts. More excitement greeted the return of the erstwhile prisoners and warriors, who were one by one swept away by mobs of family. Their horses disappeared, becoming the ratlike creatures. Or sometimes birds who flew up to the towers to sing brilliant songs. Our stalwart escort similarly bled away at various intersections, until only Terin shadowed our heels. We entered more stately neighborhoods now, high up and with spectacular inlaid mosaics and hanging gardens. It was quieter here, serene, with endless views of the turquoise sea.

  “I thought it best not to make fanfare of your arrival,” Rayfe told me quietly. “Most of the fighters returned last night with the news of our marriage. Everyone knows they will meet you later, so there was no need to trumpet it about.”

  “Obviously, not everyone is thrilled about it,” Terin commented.

  “Also,” Rayfe continued, as if Terin hadn’t spoken, “it occurred to me that you don’t really enjoy being the center of attention. I thought a cheering crowd might annoy you more than please you.”

  I gave him a grateful smile, remembering the headaches at Windroven, the horrible premonitions. I felt at peace, I realized, as unlikely as that seemed. None of those visions had come true. Perhaps none would.

  “Terin,” Rayfe tossed over his shoulder, “I’m sure you would like to enjoy your own homecoming. Take yourself off, then.”

  “My lord, I—”

  “No, I wouldn’t think of keeping you a moment longer. Till later.”

  I didn’t look back, but Terin’s displeased grumble and rapid hoofbeats signaled his departure.

  “Are there truly many here who will hate my presence?” I tried to sound casual and clearly failed, because Rayfe reached out to wind his long fingers with mine.

  “These have been extreme times for the Tala. People react in different ways. There will always be some who see only Uorsin the Annihilator when they look at you. Others will see only Salena. Like any place, we have our political factions, agitating for this path or that one. Over time, they will learn to know you for yourself, and you will know their agendas, too.”

  “And you—what do you see?”

  He kissed my fingers and released my hand. “I see my queen.” Something else lurked below the words, but I didn’t ask to know what he wasn’t saying this time. In a place so lovely, I didn’t think I could bear to hear that here, too, I was something uncanny and unnatural. No matter which world I lived in, I would always carry half of the other.

  We’d stopped at a place where the lane we followed swung out in a wide arc, bordered by a low stone wall dripping with intense blue flowers. The sea spread before us from this angle, echoing the color of the tiny blossoms. On the inside, a pearly wall rose, with a massive gate of wrought iron set in, flanked by glass lanterns and more of the blue flower vine. Within, a fountain splashed in an intimate courtyard.

  Servants rushed up to take Fiona when I dismounted, chattering greetings in the lyrical Tala tongue. Apprehensive, I looked to Rayfe, who was similarly handing over the stallion’s reins. “Do I need to tell them that she’s, um, a real horse?”

  Rayfe threw back his head and laughed. “No. They can tell the difference. Dyson here is a ‘real’ horse, also. Besides, all the animals are truly themselves, no matter what else they can turn into.”

  “I’m still learning the ropes,” I muttered.

  “I know.” He slipped an easy arm around my waist and led me into the courtyard. He, too, was more relaxed in this place, I realized, that edge of tension gone, like a sharp blade now sheathed. “After you begin your lessons, you’ll be able to see, also.”

  “When will that be?”

  “This evening. Dusk is always the best time for a beginner. We’ll bathe, rest, I’ll show you the house, and—”

  “Eat?” I inserted hopefully, my stomach still growling from the delicious marketplace scents.

  “We’ll do that first.” He grinned. “I’m coming to understand that keeping you fed is the key to your heart.”

  I didn’t answer that, not wanting to be argumentative. Food was important to me lately only because I hadn’t been getting regular meals. And I knew perfectly well Rayfe wasn’t interested in winning my heart. Besides, I seriously doubted the way to it was lunch.

  Even the fabulous lunch that waited for us in the courtyard.

  Several people gathered near a long table draped with white flowing cloths, sparkling with crystal and silver, and laden with a bounty of exotic foods that glistened in the sun. They all bowed or curtsied with grave courtesy, and I followed Rayfe’s lead in returning the gesture.

  Rayfe took my hand and led me forward. “Mother, may I present my wife and our new queen, Andromeda.”

  Panic seized my stomach and I fought the urge to smooth back my hair. The tall woman raised winged eyebrows that matched Rayfe’s, then studied me with hawklike dark-blue eyes. I should have seen the resemblance immediately, even with her black hair twisted in complex braids. I had no idea how to address her. I wanted to stomp on Rayfe’s instep for his careless failure to warn me.

  “Welcome home, Salena’s daughter.” She hadn’t liked Rayfe’s introduction. As mother of the king, wasn’t she queen? The woman’s eyes rested on my throat, and I wondered if the bruise showed after all. “Has my son treated you as he should?”

  The question seemed to carry layers of meaning, and I floundered, searching for the right answer. Amelia would flutter her lashes and be charming. Ursula would call the question and seek the upper hand.

  “Rayfe and I are still learning how to treat each other,” I answered. “All of this has not been easy for either of us, I think.”

  A half smile quirked her lips, and I thought that might be approval warming her eyes. She flicked a glance at Rayfe.

  “I can see how you knew her immediately. She is very like Salena. T
rinor?” A young man came forward with a tray of sparkling glasses containing a golden liquid with tiny bubbles rising. She took two glasses, pressed one into my hand, and gave Rayfe the other. The other men and women came forward with polite smiles and raised glasses, following the dark-haired lady’s lead.

  “To my son, my king, and his bride,” she intoned, as if giving a blessing.

  “To the safety and prosperity of Annfwn and all the Tala,” Rayfe replied gravely.

  We sipped from the glasses and the liquid burst on my tongue, icy cold and sparkling. Rayfe’s mother—I wished I knew what to call her—asked us all to sit, and plates were passed. She sat at the head of the table, Rayfe at her right hand and I at her left. Rayfe stretched out long legs under the table and caught my ankles between them, giving me a little squeeze and a smile. I raised an eyebrow at him. We would talk later.

  I was introduced to the others—names only, no titles or relationships, so I still wasn’t sure who everyone was—then heaped my plate, plowing into the delicious food with enthusiasm and ignoring Rayfe’s amused smile. I listened while Rayfe talked with his mother in low tones and the others conversed among themselves, making the polite court conversation that must be universal.

  “How do you like Annfwn, Princess Andromeda?” asked the cool brunette, Payla, who sat opposite me.

  “This cliff city is amazing. I’ve never read even a whisper about it. It’s so well hidden, I didn’t see it until we came out of the forest and around that last bend.”

  “You did not blindfold Andromeda?” Rayfe’s mother looked aghast.

  He caught my gaze with sober dark-blue eyes. “No, Mother. She is Tala and asked to be treated as such. Our queen should not be treated like a foreigner or a hostage.”

  “Do you know she’s truly one of us, then?” Payla inquired, looking at me with sharp light-blue eyes. “She looks . . . vague.”

  “We’ve been busy,” Rayfe replied, “and I thought it unwise to discuss any of our secrets outside of Annfwn’s veil.”

  “Still—” she continued, but the man beside her put a hand on her arm.

  “We will know soon enough,” Rayfe’s mother put in, her voice mild while she sipped the sparkling wine, but her dark gaze pinned the brunette to her chair. “I did not invite you to my new daughter’s welcoming, Payla, to stir doubts in her heart.”

  Payla flushed, ducked her head to me “My apologies—I did not mean . . .”

  “More wine?” Trinor put in with a dazzling smile, refilling my glass. “If the lovely Andromeda has been tormented with Rayfe’s dour company these last days, I’m sure she needs plenty of wine, food, and pleasant conversation. Tell me, lady, did he remember to feed you, or did he expect you to gnaw on jerky like his wolfhounds?”

  A laugh burst out of me at that, and Rayfe flashed the man a sour look.

  “How did you know?” I sipped the deliciously cold wine and exchanged grins with young Trinor.

  “We weren’t exactly on a pleasure excursion,” Rayfe growled, but he handed me a platter of pastries, as if to make up for it. “And she hasn’t starved on the journey here.”

  “There, there, darling.” Rayfe’s mother patted his hand and winked at me. “I’m sure you at least fed her breakfast after your overnight stops.”

  I focused on breaking open the pastry I’d chosen, relishing the warm aroma of almonds that wafted up, but the giggles started breaking free by the time Rayfe’s mother mentioned breakfast. I tried to hold them back, but they exploded in an unladylike snort. I looked up to see Rayfe watching me with that eyebrow raised. Trinor fell back, belly laughing, and Payla pressed fingers to her lips to keep from laughing along.

  “I’m sorry,” I gasped between laughs, “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

  “The wine.” Rayfe held up his glass to the sun. “It promotes frivolity.” He drank it down, grinned, and held it out to Trinor for a refill, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you laugh.”

  He stood with his full glass, sparkling-blue gaze on mine. “To my new and lasting queen, Andromeda.” He threw the title out like a challenge. “May our marriage be full of laughter, sunny afternoons, and many, many good meals.”

  19

  Rayfe’s mother sent him off after we finished the delightful lunch, declaring that he had things to take care of and that she would settle her new daughter in.

  I confess, it warmed me in a way I had never expected, that she called me “daughter,” as if I’d been unexpectedly un-orphaned. Rayfe’s mother led me to the rooms he’d spoken of. They were on the topmost floor, which made me smile, with windows that looked out in three directions, over sea and forest, and wide seats tucked into the nooks beneath to allow one to sit and look. None faced east, I realized. Ordnung was literally behind me, with mountain ranges between.

  “These were Salena’s rooms.” Rayfe’s mother stood in the center of the sitting chamber, surveying it. A ghost of something crossed her face.

  “Did you know my mother?”

  She gave me her sharp look. “Not many people did.”

  “So Rayfe told me.”

  “Did he, now?” She folded her arms, strolled around the rooms. “I had her things—the few she left behind—put here and there. In case you wanted to see them. Anything you don’t wish to keep, simply set outside your doors and it will be taken away.”

  “Thank you.” There were books on the shelves and small objects that bore further scrutiny. They didn’t look like the sorts of things she’d left behind at Ordnung, but it seemed, the more I learned about her, that she hadn’t been the same person by that time.

  “I did know her.” Rayfe’s mother sighed, blowing out a long breath and staring out at the sea. “I miss her still. When news of her death came, I—” She shook her head. “It’s been nearly twenty years, more than that, since I last saw her, and I still feel the ache of her absence.”

  “Me, too,” I whispered.

  She glanced at me and held out a long-fingered hand, Rayfe’s gesture. “Forgive me. Of course you must miss her far more.”

  She pulled me down onto the window seat, tucked her feet under her, and leaned an elbow on the ledge, looking out.

  “She was my friend.” She nodded at me, as if she expected me to be surprised. “We grew up in neighboring households, much farther down the coast from here. You know how it is—we were the same age and lived nearly in each other’s laps, so we became best friends.”

  I did not know how that was, but I didn’t like to tell her that my childhood in Ordnung had been lacking in any way. They already seemed to think me profoundly scarred somehow. Why I felt defensive about that, I didn’t know.

  “Later, when people questioned what Salena did, well, I didn’t. But no one else knew her secret sorrows.”

  “Sorrows?” I echoed.

  Rayfe’s mother glanced at me, a vertical line between her hawk-wing eyebrows. “You have to understand. Salena was the best of us. Beautiful, smart, witty, full of the ancient magic.”

  “You make her sound like a paragon.”

  “Do I?” She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Well, she was also impatient, impossibly stubborn, and arrogant enough to decide that she knew best how to single-handedly save the Tala and Annfwn.” She waved her graceful hands in swirling arcs, announcing the feat like a court minstrel might. “But”—she leaned forward—“her greatest flaw was her pride. That’s what kept her from telling anyone what happened to her first child.”

  “First child?” Ursula? Oh, no. Another. I struggled to keep up.

  “No one knows this, and I’m asking you to keep your mother’s secret.”

  I nodded, biting my lip to keep the questions back.

  “After she became queen and later married Tosin and all was well for a while—”

  “I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “who was Tosin?”

  “Terin’s twin brother. He didn’t tell you?” She tapped her fingers on the window ledge in irritation. “Of course
he didn’t. And Rayfe is likely being his cagey self. But you’re Salena’s daughter, and if she’d lived, she would have told you all of this. So, I’m going to. It’s what she would have wanted. I can do that much for her.

  “Terin and Tosin were of another of our oldest families—not as old as Salena’s and yours, but very strong, pure blood. Salena won the right to be queen, as is our custom, and elevated Tosin to king. All seemed well. Then, so far as anyone knows, Tosin killed himself one dark night. Terin took off wandering in his grief and Salena left Annfwn to wed Uorsin instead.”

  “Leaving Annfwn without a ruler.”

  She inclined her head as if I’d scored a point. “Worse, even, but I’ll get to that. So a tournament was held, to select the best.”

  “And Rayfe won.”

  “Yes.” She propped her chin on her hand. “He wouldn’t be dissuaded from trying—and he was only fourteen at the time. He was always such a serious child, so determined, driven.” She shook her head. “Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed these things about him. Salena envied me him and it distanced us. That I had my first child so easily.” With a finger that trembled slightly, she wiped away a tear. “It grieved me, but I understood that she couldn’t look on my fine boy without feeling pain. And her responsibilities kept her busy.”

  “Her child . . . died?”

  She nodded, closing her eyes at the memory. “It happens. More and more, some say, since we’ve stayed within the boundaries of Annfwn for so long. The babies are born twisted or weak. Or die in the womb.”

  “I’ve seen this—only with horses.” The deformed foals that had to be put down still haunted me. “We had a royal breeder who tried to line breed too closely. After he was dismissed, the Master of Stables had to bring in studs from far away, to strengthen the stock again.”

  She nodded, her face somber.

  “That’s why she went to Uorsin.”

  “I think so. I think she had two reasons. After the babe died and Tosin killed himself, Salena was nearly out of her mind with grief. She confided in me that she’d had terrible visions of the future. And they all pivoted around this part-blood from Elcinea.”