Eric didn’t meet her at the gates, much to her private relief. Her head was spinning with ideas and thoughts, tempting her and challenging her, even as she dreaded some of the darker visions she’d been shown. They’d be happy together – she’d pulled that lesson from most of the visions – and they might even have a child. No, they would have a child; both of them had magic in their blood and knew basic self-healing. There was no reason why they should not be able to have a child, or why the child should not be healthy. There was no reason why they shouldn’t have quite a few children. Eric would definitely be a good father.
But did she love him? She rolled the question around and around in her mind, barely aware of the servants helping her out of her clothes and into a formal gown for dinner. Eric was…nice, and she liked him, and she remembered the feel of his lips on hers in the vision. They had much in common, yet they were not completely alike. And, she had to admit, he was handsome. If she had to marry someone – and it was generally assumed that female commoner magicians would marry someone of higher status, if only to improve their bloodlines – she could do worse than Eric. He knew it too.
She opened her eyes long enough to take in the dress and try to object, but she should have known better. A formal ball required more than standard magician’s garb; indeed, it would have been regarded as scandalous. The maid’s had dressed her in a long flowing green dress that set off her blonde hair nicely and had even washed and dried her hair for her, before placing a flower into her hair. A knock on the door announced Eric’s arrival and she had to smile at his expression. He looked almost as if she’d knocked him on the head.
“Ah,” he said, coughing as he remembered himself. “Would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the ball?”
Hind smiled, as daintily as she could. “I would be delighted,” she said, and allowed him to take her hand. She made her voice as airy as possible. “I’m sure that we will have such a good time.”
And they did. Eric partnered her for the first four dances, before passing her off to a younger Lord who danced in a slightly different style, who in turn traded her to one of the traders. The trader was actually interesting to talk to, unlike the first Lord; he’d made his money honestly and intended to make more, after rising to the nobility. The Emperor’s plans to expand the nobility, according to him, would eventually enrich the whole of Touched. Hind, who remembered what the Oracle had said, shivered at his words. It might not work out as well as he hoped.
Eventually, at her request, Eric led her out of the ballroom and into the library, where she removed her shoes and rubbed her feet. “I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely. “It’s been too long since I danced in public and my feet are killing me.”
“Mine too,” Eric admitted. They shared a grin. “Every time I get out on the dance floor, I have to keep reminding myself that running a few of the other dancers through with my sword would probably not be the most diplomatic thing I could do.”
Hind laughed, put her feet back on the ground and looked up at him. “Eric,” she said, slowly, feeling butterflies rising up inside her stomach. She felt vulnerable, but it was almost a good kind of vulnerable. Hind pushed on before she lost the ability to speak. “Do you want to marry me?”
Eric blushed. “Hind,” he said slowly, “I like you. I care about you. I think I could be a good husband to you. I think that we could build a good relationship together. I think that yes, I do want to marry you…”
His voice had broken down into a stammer. Hind smiled at him, trying to show him that it would be all right. “I know,” she said, and held out a hand, pulling him down onto the sofa beside her. “I think we can make it work.”
Eric’s face lit up into a grin. “You’re saying yes?”
“I think you’re meant to ask me first,” Hind pointed out, with a wink. Eric’s blush grew brighter. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
Eric slipped off the sofa and knelt in front of her. “Hind,” he said, formally, “will you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?”
Hind smiled down at him. “Of course I will,” she said, and helped him to his feet. A moment later, their lips were touching and he kissed her. It sent shivers down her spine as she returned the kiss. When he finally let go of her, she didn’t want it to end. “I think…”
Eric’s face flushed again. He’d probably had the same thought.
“We’ll have to tell my father,” he said, bursting into another grin. “We’ll have to organise the wedding on Midsummer’s Day. That’s just three weeks away. The servants will have to work harder. We’ll have to…”
Hind broke him off by pulling him down for another kiss. “It’s all right,” she whispered, as they kissed again. “We will have time enough for that afterwards.”
Afterwards, lying in her bed, Hind felt as if she wanted to go back to the dance floor and dance all night. They couldn’t go all the way, not until they were married, but even kissing alone had opened up all kinds of feelings in her body. The tingling running down her spine and over her lips where he’d kissed her…
She almost couldn’t wait for the wedding.
Chapter Seven
It had been years since Eric had set foot in the Bloodlines Chamber, but the room seemed to welcome him, the hidden wards concealed in the surrounding walls humming a greeting to the Prince. His father had told him, on the day he’d become a man, that the Bloodlines Chamber was the key to the subtle and complex gifts that ran in the Emperor’s Bloodline, the gifts that enabled them to rule. The Chamber would reject anyone who didn’t share the Bloodline and kill them if they tried to return to the Chamber, or so his father had told him. He had been careful not to tell Eric that little fact until Eric had stepped through the wards for the first time.
“Father,” he said, in surprise. The summons had been delivered by a maid, who’d told Eric where to go and then left him. His father was working, with his own hands, on a small table. A handful of magical artefacts and tools were scattered around the table, allowing him to work without needing to break his concentration. Eric, who had never realised that this father had any sort of aptitude for Alchemy, could only stare. “You called for me?”
Emperor Haled looked up at his son. He was a tall powerful man, with a long beard and bright red hair, but the hair was starting to go grey at the edges. No one outside his family would know, not as long as there was magic running through his veins, yet Eric knew…and it chilled him. The thought of a life without his father, the kind yet stern man who had taught him how to be a Prince, was somehow unthinkable. And yet, despite his hopes, he knew that one day he would have to face such a life.
“I did, Eric,” the Emperor said. “What do you make of this?”
He held up a bowl of clear water. At the bottom, cooling rapidly, lay two golden rings. They seemed almost normal, but Eric could feel the magic shimmering around them, magic that seemed almost linked to him. The rings were calling to him and his hand was halfway towards the bowl when his father coughed.
“They’re magic,” he said, in surprise. “What are they?”
His father didn’t answer directly. “I trust that you and Hind have been watching your step,” he said. It wasn't a question. The complex wards woven into the Golden Palace would allow the Emperor to watch whoever – or whatever – he wanted to watch. Eric had known that they would be under some supervision, but he hadn’t wanted to know just what his father had seen. “You know, of course, that there are gifts within our bloodline that are not present in other bloodlines.”
Eric nodded impatiently. “Many of those gifts are tied to our families,” the Emperor said. “Others are tied directly to our state of being. And, most importantly of all, some are tied to our blood. The blood of any living creature has a magical use, but the blood of a magician is the most potent of all. And, of all of those, the blood of the Emperor’s Bloodline is the most powerful in the world. Sometimes the overt gifts are weak, or perhaps don’t even exist, but the subtle g
ifts are always there.”
He poured the bowl over his workbench and nodded towards the two rings. “One of these is for you,” he said. “Like my father, and his father, and all of the Emperors back until the First Emperor, I have produced your wedding rings with my bare hands. I have used the finest gold and mixed them with blood; yours and hers. You will discover that they will trigger some of your gifts.”
Eric stared at the rings, trying to keep his face composed. It wasn't easy. He had never realised that his father had any Alchemical training, beyond what he would have picked up at the Academy. Alchemy, the discipline of infusing magic into potions and even objects, was the most complex discipline in the world.
“I will teach you some of the basics,” his father said, anticipating Eric’s thoughts. “Once you and Hind wear the rings, you will discover that you are always…aware of one another, able to speak together without being overheard. It has its advantages from time to time.”
The Emperor grinned. “You will be amazed to discover that when I used to send my wife, your late mother, on diplomatic missions before you were born, I was always in contact with her. It’s quite easy to block most magical communication, but not this. The secret has been passed down from generation to generation. When you become Crown Prince, I will educate you in all of the secrets. You will learn secrets that thousands have died to keep hidden.”
“Yes, sir,” Eric said. “I thank you.”
“Not yet, son,” his father said. He stood up and stared down at the rings for a long moment, before turning and striding towards another door, hidden within the stone walls of the chamber. “You know about the three Great Swords?”
“I learned about them at the Academy,” Eric said. His father pressed his hand against the stone door and opened it, waving him through into a smaller chamber. “I know that one of them is lost…”
“Perhaps for good,” his father said. He waved a hand in the air and a light shone down from high above, illuminating a stone anvil and a sword hilt emplaced within the stone. “Shadow is lost, perhaps forever. Soulfire I wear on state occasions. And Morningstar…Morningstar is right in front of you.”
Eric barely heard him. There were thousands of legends surrounding the Great Swords, thousands of tales…and here one of them was, right in front of him. His father’s casual comment about wearing one barely registered with him. The older a magical artefact was, the greater its power and the Great Swords dated back further than the Empire. The oldest legend surrounding them claimed that Solaris himself had forged them with the heat of the sun and presented them to his first human children.
“Morningstar is given to the Crown Prince, who wields it until he becomes Emperor,” his father said, finally. “Once you become Emperor, I will give you Soulfire and you will return Morningstar to the stone, until the day when your son steps up to become Crown Prince. Now…take the sword.”
Eric stepped forward, feeling as if his third eye was being wrenched open. He’d never developed his Sight properly, but he barely needed it to see the shimmering magic surrounding Morningstar. He couldn’t understand how his father had been able to wear the other Great Sword without the entire Royal Court knowing what he was wearing, unless the sword chose to hide its true nature from the courtiers. Eric reached out, barely aware of his own actions, and clasped the sword in his hand. A moment later, Morningstar slid out of the stone and shimmered in the air. It felt as if he was wielding a weapon made out of light. History itself seemed to be pressing down on him. The Great Swords had built and toppled kingdoms before they’d been used to help build the Empire.
“Put it in the scabbard,” his father said. It seemed almost impossible to let go of the sword, but somehow he managed to slide it into the scabbard and buckle it on his belt. “How are you feeling now, son?”
Eric blushed. He was old enough to marry and have children and his father could still make him feel like a tiny child. “Nervous,” he admitted. “What happens if the ceremony goes wrong?”
“Heads will roll,” the Emperor said, flatly. He marched back into the other chamber, picked up the two rings and carefully placed them into a pair of jewelled boxes. “You can relax for a few hours before you exchange vows and then you can go off on honeymoon and really get to know one another.”
Eric blushed. “Father, I…”
His father laughed. “Do you really think,” he asked, “that I didn’t feel the same way when I married your mother?” He clapped Eric on the shoulder companionably. “If you learn nothing else from me, learn this; Hind is not a toy, nor a pet, nor is she something you can discard at any moment. Listen to her, understand her and she will be able to help you in ways you can barely imagine. Treat her well and your marriage will be long and happy; treat her poorly and you might discover that she turns on you, or your children grow to hate the very sight of their father. You’ll make mistakes, of course, and so will she. With respect – and simple conversation – you will get through them and survive.”
Eric nodded slowly, wondering when his father had become such a wise man. “Thank you,” he said, finally. “Why…?”
“Children,” his father said. He rolled his eyes. “Every generation always thinks that it has discovered something new when it loses its innocence.”
He clapped Eric on the shoulder again. “Now,” he said, “get up to your rooms and start dressing for the ceremony. If you think that Midsummer’s Eve is going to be bad, just wait until you hit Midsummer’s Day.”
Eric shivered. On Midsummer’s Eve, Hind and he would exchange the first set of vows; on Midsummer’s Day, they would be formally married. And, as much as he was looking forward to being able to lie with his wife, the prospect scared him as much as it enticed him.
“Go,” his father ordered.
Eric went.
***
Hind awakened slowly, one hand reaching out towards the other side of the bed. There was no one there, of course. Eric had blushed deeply at the very thought of sex, but one of the Ladies of the Court had explained that the couple couldn’t do more than kiss until they were married…and had taken to sleeping in the antechamber to keep the two apart. She seemed to tell Hind that once a day, in-between some frank talk that would have shocked Hind’s mother and probably made Eric faint.
“Good Morning, Mistress Hind,” one of the maids said. Hind came fully awake to see no less than four maids standing in her chamber. She kept her face blank with an effort, but silently cursed under her breath. A month of living in peaceful surroundings had done nothing good for her awareness of what was going on around her. The maids could have driven knives into her before she was even aware that they were there. They were all bound under loyalty spells, of course, but Hind was more aware than most that any spell had limitations. “We have been sent to make you presentable for Midsummer’s Eve.”
Hind scowled, but the maids refused to be deterred. One of them helped her out of bed and led her over to the bathroom, where a great steaming bath awaited her. Hind was helped into the bath – it seemed that she wasn't going to be allowed to do anything for herself, even if she tried to argue with the maids – and pressed into the water. One of the other maids knelt behind her and started to clean her hair, while the other two took her hands and started to work on her nails. Hind normally used basic spells to keep her hair clean and tidy, but as the maid worked on it, she found herself relaxing into the water. It seemed that every last part of her body was going to be scrubbed clean before the maids finally relented and allowed her to stand up, before they started dressing her in silken undergarments. Hind wanted to protest before they added the first wedding gown – it seemed that Royal Consorts had to say their vows in purple gowns – but it was too late. A tiny fraction of the material in the dress, sold at market rates, could have kept an entire commoner family fed for over a year. The waste appalled her, but it was tradition and even the Emperor couldn’t buck tradition.
“You look lovely, Mistress,” one of the maids said, finall
y. Hind stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked rather like a woman who had been covered in plum juice, at least in her opinion. Fashion was definitely not going to be something that she would ever understand. And the maid, loyalty spell or no loyalty spell, was clearly a liar. “You look just right for the Prince.”
Hind snorted. “And what did Prince Eric do to annoy you?”
The maid let that sally pass. “Once you have eaten breakfast, you will be escorted to the antechamber where you will wait until the ceremony begins,” she said. “The Emperor will call you and the Prince into the chamber and present you with the rings, which you will exchange…”
“I know,” Hind said, with some asperity. She’d hoped for a simple wedding, but the Emperor and his Court had lined up a week of celebrations. On Midsummer’s Eve – today – they would exchange rings, after Eric had been confirmed as Crown Prince. On Midsummer’s Day, they would complete their vows…and then there would be a week of parties and tournaments before they were finally allowed to slip off to Larkrise for a honeymoon. The Emperor and the Ladies of the Court had drilled her in the proceedings so much that she felt that she could have gone through it in her sleep. “Now, just let me prepare myself in my own way.”
The Black Knife Page 7