The Twelve Kingdoms: The Mark of the Tala

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “But no naked man for me.” He’d put on a new set of loose trousers and a shirt.

  “That can be easily remedied.” He kissed me, weighing my breast in his palm. Tempting, but I stepped back.

  “No, I’m determined.”

  I shimmied into the gown he’d brought me, this one a sheer white that dipped so low it barely covered my nipples, which showed through the fabric anyway. I raised my eyebrows and Rayfe gave me his wolfish grin.

  “I figured since no one would see you up close anyway . . .”

  “Ha to that.”

  He handed me the doll, wrapped up in black silk.

  “It seemed wrong to carry it around unprotected.” His brow creased as I cradled it in my arms. “It has a very strange feel to it.”

  “Yes, I feel it, too. Let’s find out what it is.”

  This time I took his hand as we retraced our steps back to the arena. Rayfe was right—the doll almost seemed to vibrate in my arms. I realized that, as much as I’d examined it, I’d rarely held it. It wasn’t a thing that asked to be cuddled. Not of the light and happy world. A vision of my mother, heavy bellied, flashed through my head. She sat in her window, the moon hanging low while she sewed the doll and sang to it.

  Under the waves, deep under the sea

  Sands dissolve the cicatrix of thee.

  Cobalt crabs pluck at deep-frozen lies

  Eating the corpses of what she denies.

  I started and Rayfe glanced down at the doll. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. A memory. Or something.” Unborn babies didn’t remember seeing their mothers. Somehow I knew it was me in her round belly, not Amelia this time.

  “If you have the visions like Salena was said to . . .”

  “Said to?”

  He shrugged, but a strain of tension ran through him.

  “You’re hoping that I can.”

  We’d reached the arena and he dropped my hand to move the stone again, speaking over his shoulder. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, it was something I thought about. One of the many things I hope for.”

  “Rayfe.” I tugged at his silky tail of hair to stop the diatribe. “It’s okay. Remember, we have an understanding now.”

  He turned and slipped a hand behind my neck, kissing me with sudden fierceness, the doll crushed between us. He broke the kiss as fast as he’d launched it.

  “I know. I just . . .” He faltered. “I’m not a gentle man, Andromeda. You need to know that. Even as I recognize that none of this is your responsibility, I know in my heart that I’d lock you up to keep you from walking away like Salena did.”

  I stared at him, my heart in my throat. Emotions chased across his face, determination, desire, self-loathing.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “Well, I know what I’m capable of, and you need not worry that you’d imprison me, because I would never let you.”

  He stared at me, surprised. A ghost of relief ran over him. A startled smile flashed through it. “You’re right.”

  “I know.”

  I turned to walk into the arena, and Rayfe cuffed my arm in a strong grip, stopping me. “What you said before, about how the beast feels. I know what you mean. The wolf can be . . .”

  “Wild.”

  “Yes.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. I want to try something. Hopefully I’m right about this.”

  For the second time, I laid the doll out and pillowed her on the pile of black silk wrappings. Feeling a sense of ritual, I set her in the exact center of the arena, the moon like a spotlight overhead. Rayfe stood back, his tangled black hair shadowing his face. For the moment, the wolfish hunger in his gaze didn’t bother me. Or perhaps I recognized it for the same in my own heart.

  I knelt on the hard stones, held my breath, and, using my dagger, the one Ursula had given me after our mother died, now clean of Rayfe’s blood, I made a small cut in the worn fabric. It gave with a little sigh of age and continued to split, laying itself open under the sharp edge.

  I confess I’d half expected a scream of pain.

  At first I couldn’t make out the mass of dark fiber inside. Hesitant, I touched it, both brittle and silky.

  “She stuffed it with her own hair,” Rayfe breathed over my shoulder. I started, not having noticed that he’d moved up behind me. “I’ve heard of this kind of magic. I had no idea that Salena was powerful enough for this.”

  Feeling ridiculously unsettled, I stroked the stuff again, hoping it wouldn’t shatter into dust, and then probed deeper into the doll’s guts.

  Then my fingers brushed cool glass.

  “What?” Rayfe asked at my gasp, laying a hand on my shoulder, ready to yank me back to safety, I realized.

  “Something. It’s okay.”

  I drew out the vial. The upper part seemed to be dipped in wax, layers and layers of it by the feel, but the bottom was clear and showed fluid within, silver-black in the moonlight. Using the dagger edge—and with a silent apology to Ursula, who’d skin me for using a weapon as a tool—I scraped the hardened wax from the top, then set to worrying the cork out. My blade slipped, biting my finger. I hissed, sucking the stinging tip, the salt taste of my own blood filling my mouth.

  “Let me—”

  “No! I have to open this!”

  “I’m offering to help,” Rayfe said in a mild tone, crouching next to me. He slid the vial from my hands and picked up the dropped dagger. “Do you know what you’re doing here?”

  I didn’t reply.

  His clever fingers worked the cork with deft ease. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I think . . . I think it’s her blood. This is how she’s giving it to me. How she left it for me, just in case. Though how it would be not rotten, I don’t know.”

  “I’ve heard it can be done,” Rayfe mused. “That our blood, if freely given and immediately sealed, will stay fresh. I’ve never seen it done, but we are warned from early youth to never give our blood to anyone, for any reason.”

  My stomach went cold.

  “What would happen if someone—one of you—did?” I asked carefully. I didn’t fool Rayfe for a moment. His gaze flew to mine, sharp with concern.

  “Why? Did you give your blood to someone?”

  Moranu, why had I given Lady Zevondeth that blood? Would she even know what to do with it, whatever that might be?

  He took my silence for assent and shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’d be wary of that person. Is this blood back at Ordnung?”

  “Yes.” That is, if Lady Zevondeth still was. Somehow I doubted she’d ever stir from her overheated chambers.

  “I’ll get it back, then.”

  “You can’t just waltz into Ordnung, Rayfe!”

  “You don’t say.” He grinned at me, but stern resolve was carried under the words. “Besides, a waltz is too circular. I prefer a more direct approach.”

  With a sigh, the cork gave way. Rayfe sniffed the bottle.

  “It’s blood, in truth.” He handed it to me with a flourish.

  I held it clasped in my palm, the glass warm from his hands. He watched me, calm, expectant.

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Now you wonder?” He held up a hand to silence my protest. “I think there’s a reason you thought to do this. And Salena was nothing if not a clever and driven woman who took the long view. She knew you’d need this.

  “Tell me this. Did she have reason to believe, even long ago, that Uorsin wouldn’t honor the treaty and send you home?”

  I coughed out a laugh.

  His lips twisted in the half smile. “I believe you have your answer.”

  “Well, then.” I toasted him with the vial. “To Salena. May she have found peace and happiness, wherever she might be.”

  I resolved to choke it down, no matter how it tasted, but it tasted like nothing. A bit like saltwater, maybe, with a metallic glint. Perhaps it would be nothing.
My eyes closed against Rayfe’s discerning gaze, I waited, letting it slide into my stomach.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  And then the night exploded into bright light.

  21

  The arena lit up like daylight.

  But I hadn’t changed form. I looked down at my body, just to be sure. The sheer white gown fluttered around me. But the doll was gone. No Rayfe either. The boundaries of the stone arena faded into mist.

  Not a good sign at all.

  Hopefully this wasn’t death. Ursula would have plenty to say to me if I’d blithely drunk down a poison and killed myself. It would reflect badly on Rayfe and the Tala, come to think of it, if Uorsin thought I’d died at their hands.

  “You’re not dead.”

  I spun around and a woman stood there. Dark-red hair cascaded around her, and my own gray eyes gazed back at me.

  “Mother?”

  She smiled, soft and sad. “An echo of her, yes. I am more of a message. A letter, if you will, that only you, my darling Andromeda, can read. A bit more than that. This is a little piece of myself that I carved away and left behind. It wasn’t easy.”

  I choked on the disappointment. Such a new hope, that I might be able to talk to her, know her a little, to be so quickly dashed.

  “You did well to find the vial I left for you. I hope your sisters found theirs, as well.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “You must help them find their own vials. There are things they need to know.”

  “That might not be easy—I’m not sure if I’ll see them again.”

  “Then you are in Annfwn.” She sighed and closed her eyes as if in prayer. “I am so thankful. I worried for you, most of all.”

  “Because Annfwn needs me?”

  That same anger I’d felt before leaked through my voice. If she’d been mad, I couldn’t blame her for taking her own life, if that’s what Zevondeth had been hinting at. And yet, in doing so, she’d abandoned us. Leaving behind a little spell, saying it had been difficult.

  “No, it does. Make no mistake. But because you were always the one who felt the most deeply.”

  “That’s not true. Amelia is the drama queen and Ursula is forever chiding me for not caring enough.”

  She smiled then, a ghost of love that hammered home. I remembered her like this. The sweet smile and how she’d brush my hair from my forehead and call me her moon daughter.

  “You distance yourself because you feel so much. It’s a tool, this armor of uncaring, but don’t let it isolate you. I don’t regret my choices, Andromeda. I want you to know that. I did what I did to protect Annfwn and to pass my own mother’s blood on to the world. But, my moon daughter, never marry a man who doesn’t love you.”

  “Is that why you killed yourself?” I threw out as a challenge, past the dreadful fear that she’d done exactly that.

  “Is that what you believed happened to me?” Dreadful sorrow crossed her face. “I would never have. Once Amelia was born, I planned to take all of you to Annfwn. You must look elsewhere for the cause of my death.”

  “Are you saying you were murdered?” I whispered it, unwilling to speak aloud who might have done such a thing. Who alone would have had the power to do it?

  She shook her head ruefully. “Whatever happened occurred after I made this message. I can point no fingers.”

  “Did you love Uorsin?” I blurted out.

  She tipped her head. “No. Never. He was handsome and powerful, attractive like a wild stallion. With him I forgot my old sorrows, and that was something I needed. But that’s not why I married him—it was never for me. I won’t tell you not to love your father, Andromeda, but be wary of him. I urge that.”

  “This is what you wanted to tell me?”

  “Only if you asked. I hoped that, perhaps, he would mellow with age and you would never have cause to question why I did what I did.”

  “I’ve met Garland.”

  “Ah. Would you tell her something for me? Tell her I thought of her every day, that I kept the seashell—she will know what you mean. Most important: tell her I wish her son the very best, that he lives up to his early promise. I hope she had many more and my greatest regret was that our children did not grow up together.”

  I pictured growing up with Rayfe as a kind of big brother and thought perhaps it had been just as well.

  “I have three gifts for you, my moon daughter, child of my ancestors.” She drew close and I realized I was slightly taller than she. She placed a ghostly hand over my heart, a cool shiver running through me at the touch. “Follow me.”

  In my mind, she appeared as herself. Then she became a graceful mare, then a cat, then a sleek falcon, then a fish, like the ones over the bed, flicking from one to the next. With each change, I understood how she did it and how it fed into the magic of the land itself. My blood thrummed with awareness. Such a simple thing, really.

  “Trust the animal within. That is the first and that is the heart.”

  Now, still in my mind—though wasn’t this all in my mind?—she led me to a pool in a deep forest. The moon, dead overhead, shone down, making the glassy surface into a mirror. In it, scenes, both that I’d experienced and that I’d imagined, played out. I saw the slopes of Windroven covered in blood and corpses, as I’d imagined that day we rode in, something that never happened.

  Another scene appeared, a valley that looked familiar, with tilled fields between two high mountain ranges, but it seemed wrong. Wrong, I realized, because soldiers filled the roads. They streamed over the mountain pass, pouring into the gentle summer of Annfwn, flashing with metal, bristling with weapons. At their fore, Ursula and Hugh silently conferred, clearly planning to attack Annfwn.

  “Trust in the visions—they will guide you. That is the second.”

  Then we stood again in the misty arena, one step back toward the world of the living. I thought I saw a little girl, maybe five, ducking behind her ethereal skirts.

  “Your invisibility. That’s a real thing. Remember that what was made invisible can be made visible at will.

  “Good-bye, Andromeda. Know that I love you, that part of me is always with you.”

  “Wait!” I cried out, trying to seize her, my hand, as insubstantial as she, passing through her. “Please don’t go.”

  “I must. I already have.” She smiled, and love warmed her gaze. “One more, then. Trust in love—and in those who love you. You have always had mine. Know that I’m proud of you, my moon daughter.”

  I awoke in Rayfe’s arms, something that felt surprisingly natural. Or perhaps that was just in contrast to the world-shaking strangeness I’d experienced.

  He had my head pillowed in his lap and curled an arm around my waist. The moon had dropped significantly lower in the sky.

  “Welcome back,” he said, soft, as if not to startle me.

  I blinked at him, disoriented. “Was I out for a long time?”

  He cocked an eye at the moon. “Just shy of three hours.”

  “Whoa.” I sat up, his hand supporting the small of my back. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “You mean, you had expectations?” Rayfe’s voice was dry, and I looked over my shoulder at him. “You blithely drink down something decades old of unknown provenance and you had, what? A pretty clear plan for what would occur?”

  “You have a point,” I agreed weakly. I twisted around and slid my hands into his hair. I kissed him then, long and deep, showing him how I felt, even if I couldn’t quite say it. Never marry a man who doesn’t love you. He wrapped his long fingers around my wrists and gave me that wry half smile.

  “What was that for?”

  “For not getting in my way. For letting me try it.”

  “You were right. It’s not my place to tell you.” His face was serious in the moonlight. “This is your legacy. I brought you into this. The game is yours now.”

  “Our legacy.” I slid my hands down and laced my fingers with his. “I wa
s always a part of this. I just didn’t know it. And so are you.”

  “I am honored to have such a worthy partner by my side for the battles ahead.”

  “Moranu!” I jumped up, appalled that I’d forgotten. That I hadn’t said something immediately.

  “What?” He stood in a fluid movement, tossing his hair back over his shoulder and scanning the walls.

  “A vision. Oh, Rayfe—I saw—”

  My throat closed on it. My sister. My sister’s husband, who tried so hard to protect me. Uorsin’s armies advancing. I searched Rayfe’s face, the dark shadows in the sharp planes of it. What would he do if I told him they thought to bring an army to Annfwn? Salena had sacrificed her life to guide Uorsin away. What lengths would Rayfe go to in protecting this precious place? The image of him, dead in the snow, a spreading circle of crimson bleeding out around him, chilled my stomach and sickened me.

  “Tell me, Andromeda.” Rayfe studied me, keen eyed as the falcon. I remembered that first time he came into my bedchamber and asked me to pull the blade from his heart. Only you can do this.

  This wasn’t about loyalty. I could see that now. My father commanded loyalty at the point of a sword. Maybe at the cost of my mother’s life. Ursula and Amelia—they hadn’t seen what I’d seen. Loyalty is blind. Judgment is clear-eyed.

  “My father plans to attack Annfwn. Even now, Ursula is amassing an army, below the pass.” I closed my mouth over the rest.

  “I know.”

  I gaped at him. “You know? What do you mean, you know?”

  “Did you think Ursula’s troops would pursue us only to the border and then go home?” Irritation creased his brow and his hand passed over one hip, reaching for the sword he wasn’t wearing, I realized.

  “Yes. I thought that, once I was safely here, then perhaps she—”

  “But this isn’t her war, is it, Andromeda? She’s not making the calls.”

  “I need to meet with them. Go meet with Uorsin and convince him—”

  He went deadly still. “I thought you promised that you wouldn’t leave.”

  “I’m not!” An image of a tiny Amelia stamping her foot jumped to mind. I resisted the impulse. “But I have to stop him. Turn him back!”