“Marlon and Weils, driver,” he called out, and immediately the coach began to move.
Kayla twitched the curtain aside and could see the boy standing beside her. Their eyes met, and he smiled.
“I was afraid I wasn’t goin’ to catch ye, miss,” he said, reverting to his native accent.
“I must admit, I was hoping you wouldn’t,” Kayla found herself telling him. “I thought you were one of the duchess’s artsy friends, and I just couldn’t stand the thought of another conversation on the qualities of sound or the distinctive color of Darthmoor.” She grimaced and the boy laughed.
“One o’ them folks? Nay, lady, I’m afraid I don’t have an artsy bone in me body. I can build a decent cabinet, but couldn’t tell ye pink from chartreuse.” He flashed his dimples at her, not the least selfconscious.
“How long have you been in the duke’s service, Joyson?”
“Not long, miss. Me mum’s been working in the kitchens since I was a wee lad, but the duke wouldn’t take me on until I’d got me learnin’ first.”
“And what exactly do you do?”
“A bit o’ this and a bit o’ that. Whatever the duke or Lord Brant need done. Mostly I run around fetchin’ things for ’em.”
“And what were you fetching today?” she asked, curious.
“You,” he answered impishly.
Laughter welled up inside of her. The boy was a delight. No wonder the duke wanted to keep him with his family.
The carriage rolled to a stop shortly thereafter, and Joyson pulled the door open for her. “Here we are, miss. I’ll be waitin’ here for ye when you’re ready to leave.”
Kayla nodded, suddenly too excited to talk and no longer tired. She was home, and there was so much to tell her family! She nearly ran up the walkway to her uncle’s home where she and her mother had taken permanent residence. The front door opened before she got her hand on the latch. Uncle Tomas filled the entryway with his lean frame, his face anxious as he greeted her.
“Well?” he asked, all nerves as his hands clasped together so tightly his fingers were white.
Kayla schooled her expression and answered primly. Mother would never approve her answering with the exuberance she felt bursting inside her heart. “It would seem that our family’s good name has been restored.”
“Wonderful!” Tomas leaped forward and hugged her with relief.
“As I knew it would be,” Lady Kalandra spoke, coming from behind her brother, her velvet voice laced with pride. Kayla’s mother took her hands into her own and pressed them to her forehead, imitating the evahn gesture of gratitude. Nothing more needed to be said.
“Tell us all about it,” her uncle’s lively tenor begged, drawing her into the sitting room. “Leave nothing out, dear; we’ve been waiting for this most of your life.”
“The music was divine. Of course, when I first entered, and they saw who was to play, they were not happy. Even Lady Domanta looked down her nose at me.” Kayla knew she was talking too fast, but she couldn’t help it. The excitement had taken over.
“Lady Domanta has a prejudice against women who perform in public,” her mother answered. “Ah, well, that explains it then.” Kayla nodded. “I think I changed her mind, though. She was one of the first to approach me with praises, right after the duke himself. She was also one of the first on her feet when I played Darthmoor’s Honor. You should have seen it. Everyone was absolutely silent while I played and just about erupted out of their seats when I was done. The king was almost in tears! It was amazing!”
Lady Kalandra lost her decorum at that point. She clapped her hands together, threw back her head, and laughed. Kayla could not remember a time she had ever seen her mother laugh. It was pleasant and genuine, and Kayla found herself joining in.
“Oh, Kayla. What a joy you are to me,” the lady said, wiping tears from her eyes. “What began as a game has become something you have fully earned. So, what title has the king bestowed upon you?”
Kayla’s grin widened. “Well . . .” she said, drawing out the moment. “He said I was a little young for it still, but that I would soon become a duchess.”
Tomas whooped and leaped from his chair to do a little dance around the room. Lady Kalandra laughed again at her younger brother’s excitement.
“Tomas, do sit down. The neighbors will believe you’ve finally gone mad if you don’t quiet yourself.”
“I don’t care, Sis! What news! Little Kayla, a duchess,” he said, reaching out to ruffle his niece’s hair.
She scowled at him and smoothed her blonde locks, pulling them down over her ears selfconsciously. He knew how much she hated people to mess with her hair.
When Kayla turned back to her mother, Lady Kalandra was staring at the box the king had given her. One eyebrow quirked, and her head tilted in obvious curiosity.”Kayla, what is that box you carry?”
“This?” Kayla held up the wooden box that held her pride. “This is another story.” Her voice went very quiet, full of reverence, as she sat upon a footstool and leaned forward to tell about the rest of her day. “After I finished my performance, Pedran approached me. The king wished to see me. Privately. Not even Pedran was privy to that meeting.”
They stared at her, obviously shocked. Kayla understood the feeling. She continued, setting the narrow, wooden box on her lap. She caressed it lovingly as she spoke, imitating the king’s movements of only a few hours before. “He spoke of my performance, of course, and told me I would be getting a duchy when I was just a little older. Then he gifted me this.” As she spoke, she undid the clasps that held the box closed and opened it for her family to admire. Lady Kalandra gasped, her hand going to her mouth.
Tomas fell back in his seat and stared at Kayla as if she’d grown a second head. He whistled in awe. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked in hushed tones.
Kayla nodded. “It’s the Sapphire Flute, and,” she paused for effect, “the king has just made me its guardian.”
Stunned silence met her announcement. Lady Kalandra’s mouth was open with an “oh” of surprise.
Tomas spluttered. “But . . . bu—but why you?” he asked.
“Why not me?” Kayla responded, a little miffed, though she tried to calm herself. Did they have no confidence in her, after all she had done? “He said my playing had shown him my heart, and evidently he thinks I’m good enough to guard the flute with my very life. The words he said were amazing. I didn’t know King Rojan could be that eloquent.”
“They were probably not his words, Kayla,” Tomas spoke, his eyes on the blue light of the flute. “Can you remember what it was he said?”
The words were burned in Kayla’s heart and mind and were sealed there with the light of the flute itself. Of course she remembered. She repeated them, and Tomas nodded as she finished.
“It fits with what I’ve read. I was able to obtain a copy of one of the holy books of the Priests of Sha’im. They have one who is traditionally guardian over the Armor of Light, and the words with which they transfer guardianship are similar. It is a great honor you have been given, Kayla. Greater, I think, than you will ever really know. Guard it well, child.”
“Believe me, I will.”
Kayla’s eyes took in the beauty of the softly glowing flute once more. She couldn’t quite put words to the feeling that ached within her heart. It was part love, part possessiveness, and part awe. She closed her eyes for a moment, the after-image of the flute burned into the back of her eyelids. She took a deep breath and, having broken the flute’s spell on her, closed the lid with a soft click.
“By the way,” she said, being deliberately casual. “Duke Domanta invited me to his home this evening. He’s having a ball in my honor. Would anyone care to join me?”
“In your honor? When did he decide that?” Lady Kalandra asked. Kayla knew that tone. Her
mother was not happy.
“Just after he spoke to the king, I guess. He sent his boy after me to bring me home in their coach. Will yo
u come?”
Kalandra and Tomas looked at each other and shook their heads. “We cannot. Your grandfather claims he is dying, though it’s the fifth time this season, and he was miraculously healed every time we came at his call.” Tomas rolled his eyes, and Lady Kalandra’s lips tightened. “But you know how he is. If I don’t go, I’ll lose my inheritance entirely, and then where would we live?”
Kayla didn’t trust herself to respond where her grandfather was concerned. He was the one who had begun all this nonsense and disinherited Lady Kalandra when Kayla was born.
Kayla’s mother sighed. “I do so wish I could have heard you play. Perhaps you could play the Sapphire Flute for us now—give us a sample of your own brand of magic.“
Kayla shook her head. “I can’t. The king told me I must not play it, though it tears my heart.”
“He gave you guardianship and then gave you limits? You, the greatest flautist in a century, and you cannot play this flute? That is wrong, Kayla. You have guardianship; it is you who must decide when the time is right.”
Kayla was surprised at her mother’s vehemence. “Mother, I cannot. Perhaps another time.”
Lady Kalandra nodded stiffly and began gathering up her needlework. “I must prepare for our departure. Enjoy your party, Kayla. Don’t be gone too late, and please don’t get into any more trouble with that rascally son of the duke.”
Kayla grinned. “Brant is harmless, Mother.”
The lady snorted at that, but did not respond. She’d always had something against Brant—it was nothing new.
“Don’t mind her sharpness,” Tomas said, putting an arm around Kayla’s shoulder as Lady Kalandra left. “She always dreads these confrontations with your grandfather. I think he calls her just to annoy her, but tonight we have much to tell that should set his heart aflame. I, for one, very much look forward to seeing the look on his face when we tell him that not only does his half-evahn granddaughter have all of Darthmoor wrapped around her finger, but she is now also guardian of the Sapphire Flute. He’ll be gnashing his teeth for weeks. Keep it up, Kayla. Let all of Darthmoor know what the Balanias are made of.” He patted her on the shoulder and left the room.
Kayla resented the last. She wasn’t a Balania—she was a Felandian. The Balanias lost their claim on her when her mother had been disowned. So far as she knew, the only honor left in the Balania name came from Uncle Tomas. He held ten times—a hundred times—the honor his father had. She would do nothing for Balania honor, but she would do it for her mother.
Lady Kalandra had lost nearly everything she valued—a mother and sister to death, another sister who had disappeared entirely, her home, her station in life—and still she held on to her dignity. Kayla could do nothing to change what her grandfather had done, but she could provide a new home for her mother, a place where she felt of worth. And the king had shown Kayla today that the time was soon.
Very, very soon. With that thought, she raced up the stairs to her room and tried to find a proper dress for the party.
CHAPTER FOUR
Aldarin dropped Ember off in front of the bathhouse. She waved her thanks to her stepbrother and tromped up the stairs, scratching at her bare arms. Her skin was so gray with ash, it seemed she’d been painted from head to toe with the stuff, and it itched. She could hardly wait to climb in the deep pool that was heated by the same vein of magma that fed Devil’s Mount.
The white hawk was back again.
Ember stopped with her hand on the door and looked up at the bird perched above her. For once she was close enough to see his green eyes, bright as the emeralds in her wolf pendant. The bird cocked his head, examining her, and Ember was startled to realize no ash touched him. She blinked, and for just a moment the green glow was back over his shoulders. It was like the ghost image one sees after looking at the sun. It must be from the eruption. Probably some gasses in the air making me delusional, she thought as she rubbed at her eyes and tried to get her heart to slow.
It scared her that she was seeing things, whatever the reason. She got chills as she opened her eyes and saw the bird was still there, staring at her, and realized this being was not normal. It was something more—though what, she didn’t know. The white hawk tilted his head once more, beat his wings, and launched into the sky, quickly disappearing in the darkness.
Ember went into the bathhouse and locked the door, grateful for once that her mother had set the bath up with candles rather than magelights. Otherwise, she’d be bathing in the dark.With relief she lit the candles, pulled off her now-filthy nightgown and tossed it in the hamper, then started to scrub.
Once clean, she pulled the cord that would sanitize the tub and watched the heated water swirl around her. Clean water fell from above, scalding her head almost to the point of pain, while the drain below her siphoned the liquid to who knew where. When no more gray dirtied the bath, she climbed out.
She was drying herself off when someone banged at the door.
“Just a minute,” she said, toweling her hair dry. She wasn’t sure how she was going to manage it, but she had to find a way to keep the ash out of her hair. It had taken much longer to wash, and she wasn’t about to do it again the same day.
“If only I had one of Ezeker’s weather charms . . .” she thought wistfully. Those little things were amazing. It didn’t matter what fell from the sky, the charm would surround her with an invisible dome that shucked it all aside, keeping her clean and dry. Well, nothing to be done about it. Wishes wouldn’t bring a weather charm to her, and she had no power to stop the ash or create her own shield. She’d just have to settle for plain old farm-girl ingenuity and figure something out.
Once Ember was dry enough to climb into her spare clothes, it was only a matter of a minute before she was dressed and ready to go. She finally settled the dilemma of her hair by wrapping the damp towel around it and tucking the ends inside.
She looked around to make sure all was in order for the next person and, satisfied, opened the door, surprised to see Aldarin waiting for her. His gleaming uniform made her scowl.
“Aldarin, how do you stay so clean in this stuff?”
“I thought you’d like the clean look,” he said, running his hands down the crisp lines of his shirt,
“but if you prefer the ash, I guess I’ll give this weather charm to Marda instead,” he teased.
“Give me that, you big goof,” she said, laughing and reaching for the amulet that hung from his hand. “I was just wishing for one of these. Maybe my luck is changing for the day.” She settled it around her neck, layered over the wolf pendant, and thankfully unwound the towel from her hair. She blew out the candles and stepped from the bath house. Immediately, a small magelight around Aldarin’s neck sprang to life and lit their way.
“Hey, how is it your magic is working when all of ours is out?”
Aldarin glanced at her and looked down at the blue light. “Ezeker respelled it before he sent me for you.” He took Ember’s elbow as they climbed the short hill toward the house. “Something in the blast blew out all the spells, but it doesn’t prevent any new ones from being cast. Ezeker and pretty much everyone from the mage academy are running around respelling things as fast as they can.” Ember headed for the front door, but Aldarin pulled her around the side of the house. “It will be days before they get it all done, especially with the strongest magi respelling the dome over Karsholm, but it will get done eventually.”
“So what are you doing here, anyway?”
“Ezeker thought you could use a ride into Karsholm,” Aldarin answered. “He would have sent me with Da’s medicine, but he thought you could use the time away, and besides, he’s got a birthing day gift for you and wanted to give it personally.”
“Really? A present for me? He doesn’t usually do that—hey! What’s Monster doing here?” She rounded the corner to see not the gray palfrey Aldarin usually rode, but the midnight stallion her stepfather had raised and sold to the mage academy.
“He’s
mine now—a gift when Ezeker promoted me to captain of his Guard.”
Ember squealed. “Captain? Really, you mean that?”
He nodded. “I only found out last night when they set up the roster for the mage trials. I’ve been promoted. The youngest captain in three hundred years, they say. Who knows—at this rate, I’ll be a general by the time I’m thirty.”
Ember laughed with delight. “Oh, what a birthing day present! You could not have given me a single thing better.”
“Good,” he said, helping her up onto the towering beast, “because I was too poor to get you anything this year. Sorry, Sis.” Ember scooted back onto Monster’s rump. Aldarin jumped up, then swung his leg wide over the stallion’s neck and settled into place before nudging Monster forward.
“Yeah, right,” she said, digging her fingers into the flesh just above his boney hips. “You always give me the best presents. Come on, Aldarin. What did you get me?”
Her brother tried to hold in his laughter, but squirmed when she found his one and only tickle spot and dug at it mercilessly. “Nothing, Sis. You haven’t been good enough to get a present from me this year,” he teased, laughing.
“Aldarin, don’t be mean! Please?” she begged and stopped tickling him just long enough for him to pull his mail shirt down even farther.
“Nope, huh uh. I’m not saying a word, and you can’t make me.”
“I’ll bet I can.” Ember dug at his hips again, but found only chain mail. “Grrr. I thought you loved me,” she pouted.
Aldarin changed the subject. “How is Da doing? I haven’t had time to stop by for a while, and to be honest, it’s just too hard seeing him. He was always so strong and healthy, and now . . .”
Aldarin didn’t need to finish. Ember knew. She still lived with it, after all—smelling the sickness and hearing the deep hacking coughs night after night and seeing her stepfather waste away before her eyes. It was too much to bear.
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