The Infinite

by Lori M. Lee

  Outside Mrs. Gabrien’s house, the street was jammed with coaches lined up to drop off their passengers. I peered out the window at the house up ahead. It was a sturdy three-story home with elegant curling architecture adorning the flat roof. At each corner was a cluster of glimmer glass that cast a bright glow with faint purple undertones down the walls.

  I gripped my seat as we bumped along over the road, my skirt gathered around my legs. Across from me, Cassia was dressed in a blue gown of slick satin. The gold starburst of Lanathrill was embroidered into the center of her chest with threads radiating outward down the curves of her waist and over her shoulders into a sheer cape that hung to the base of her spine.

  Her hair had been swept up into a similar style to mine with a blue-and-gold metal clasp that hugged the side of her head. With all the creams and powders concealing the shadows beneath her eyes, she looked almost healthy. But even makeup couldn’t erase the slight hollows of her cheeks or the weariness that dulled her eyes.

  “Will Emryn or the other Council members be there?” I asked as our carriage clattered nearer to the house.

  “No. Emryn doesn’t attend purely social events.”

  The forlorn quality to her tone made me tilt my head. “But you wish he would?”

  Her ears turned pink, and I grinned. It was somehow comforting to know even someone in Cassia’s position suffered from unrequited infatuation.

  “Does he know?” I asked.

  “Goodness no,” she said, horrified. “And you won’t say a word. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  “Why wouldn’t it? You’re allowed to like who you want.”

  “As a representative of Lanathrill, I’m expected to behave a certain way. Besides, Emryn has enough to occupy his mind without my affections weighing on him. And he has no interest in romance anyway. Lanathrill’s welfare is the only thing that matters to him. When you’ve been adviser for a while longer, you’ll learn that the welfare of your country is always more important.”

  I propped my elbow on the open window. Not to me, I thought, which was why I’d been hesitant to accept Miraya’s offer in the first place. Nothing would ever be more important than my friends and family. If I had to choose between Reev or Ninurta, it wouldn’t be a choice at all.

  “All right,” I said to appease Cassia. “What about the others then? The Council—will they be there?”

  “No. I’m the voice of the Council, so I represent all of them. But to be honest, they’re as dull at parties as they are in meetings.”

  I laughed in surprise at her candor.

  The coach rattled to a stop in front of the walkway. A servant opened the door and extended a hand to help me down. My nervousness and the warm air had me fanning my bare neck. My stomach fluttered. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness.

  I had fought an Infinite and won, and yet I was anxious about going to a party in a fancy dress.

  Cassia linked her arm with mine, and we entered the house, walking into a foyer. A short hallway led into a series of rooms, filled with milling guests. We roamed through each room, taking everything in. The stone walls had been painted in a curling silver pattern, highlighted by dozens of glimmer glass stands that illuminated every shadowy corner. Each room connected to a central great room where the space had been cleared for dancers.

  Women in gowns more elaborate, colorful, and voluminous than mine glided across the dance floor in clouds of satin and lace. The men were dressed in high-collared tunics or brocade vests and slim jackets, paired with tailored dark pants.

  This was completely different from the party in Etu Gahl. There, everyone had shouted and laughed, and there had been no room for pride or hesitation. Here, even the dancing looked choreographed as the couples twirled and dipped to the music from the orchestra in the second-story balcony.

  Trotting at the end of golden leashes or folded in the laps of a few women were petite horned creatures. I studied one of them as we passed. I gasped in recognition. I’d seen its likeness from a column in the Hall of Memories. It was a fauhn.

  Fauhns looked like miniature deer, no bigger than a rabbit, with brown-and-white dappled coats and knobby, hoofed legs. Their most remarkable trait was their double set of horns. The first set sprang out the sides of their heads, right above their ears, and curved back like a halo, tapering into sharp points. The other set rose from the crown of their heads, arching slightly and growing nearly twice the height of the creatures themselves, with the ends transforming into full branches. The carvings in the Hall of Memories had shown fauhns with horns of all lengths: some with short branches, some long and interwoven and adorned with silvery leaves that sprouted from crystalline buds.

  Cassia noticed my gawking and whispered, “There were fauhn herds in the forests of Lanathrill before the war. We were able to rescue a few and preserve their species. There aren’t enough left for a herd, and the land isn’t fertile enough to support them. So the wealthiest of our farmers breed and raise them as pets.”

  I didn’t want to seem rude by continuing to stare, but I couldn’t help it. If these creatures had survived the war, who knew what else might still be out there?

  Cassia took me around the room, introducing me to a few of her acquaintances. Everyone treated her with a reverence that was part fear and part awe. They were friendly enough on the surface, but it was easy to tell that a wall stood between her and everyone else.

  When we found a corner to stand in, I said, “So these people want to gain your favor and your ear, but they don’t want to be your friend.”

  Cassia’s cheeks grew red. “It’s not their fault. Not only am I the voice of the Council, but I’m mahjo.” She tried to brush it off, but clearly their behavior bothered her. “Mahjo have always lived separate lives from everyone else, even before the war.”

  “Things are different now,” I said. “How we lived before the war doesn’t really apply anymore.”

  Cassia bit her lip, looking contemplative, but she didn’t respond.

  “I wanted to ask you about something,” I said. “I’m sorry for bringing it up now, but I forgot to mention it earlier with all the”—I waved at myself—“primping.”

  “Go on,” she said.

  “I wanted to ask about Peshtigo.”

  Cassia’s eyes widened, but she quickly recovered. “What about Peshtigo?” she asked casually.

  I felt a tick of annoyance. She would give nothing away until she knew how much information I had. “Why wasn’t I told about the war?”

  “Our war with Peshtigo is little more than a series of scuffles and conflicts along our eastern border. We keep the military posts well manned in case they somehow unleash a greater, coordinated attack.”

  “If it’s such a minor concern, then why don’t you call back your troops to support the fight against the chimera? They’re kind of a more pressing issue, don’t you think?”

  “Kahl Emryn made his decision,” she said, and there again was that condescension she’d worn the first time we’d met. She didn’t think it was my place to question Emryn. “The time for discussion has passed.”

  “So if he decided to have all the wheat tossed into the sea, you’d just do it because the decision was final?”

  “That’s hardly a fair comparison.”

  “Fine,” I conceded, “but my point is that you’re his Council. So why don’t you counsel him that, right now, a better use for his army would be to protect his country from the chimera?”

  “How?” she asked, brows rising imperiously. “Nothing we have done so far has been effective. What would bringing in more soldiers accomplish except to raise the death toll?”

  I rubbed my forehead. There was logic in her arguments, but her words just didn’t ring true to me, especially given Lanathrill was so desperate that they had reached out to a country they had no reason to believe would actually help. There would indeed be heavy losses, but with a greater force, they could overcome the chimera. Not to mention more soldiers could be statione
d around the countryside to protect the farmers and Vethe’s main source of food.

  But it was clear that either Cassia was refusing to question Emryn’s orders or she thought I would be placated with half answers. Either option annoyed me.

  “I should have been told about this ‘conflict.’ Keeping secrets isn’t exactly the best start to an alliance,” I said.

  “I’m sorry we kept it from you. Our intention wasn’t to be deceptive.”

  I wanted to believe her, but if they weren’t going to give me straight answers, then I would find those answers myself.

  “Can I have the next dance?”

  We both turned. Mason had come up behind me, looking absurdly attractive in a blue tunic with an asymmetrical collar that buttoned at his left shoulder. His hair had been combed into submission, and the shade of his tunic made his eyes appear impossibly blue.

  “You look great,” I said. Mason’s smile grew taut, and I clamped my lips together. An awkward beat passed, my mind trying desperately not to remember what his kiss had felt like.

  I searched over his shoulder for the other sentinels. Winnifer was dragging Gret onto the dance floor, but instead of joining with the coordinated movements of the other couples, they dived through the dancers with shameless laughter. I hoped they wouldn’t get us thrown out. Cassia looked entertained by their antics.

  Mason nodded at my outfit. “You don’t look so bad yourself. So what do you say? Dance? You did pretty well the first time.”

  The “first time” being when we’d danced at the party in Etu Gahl. I nodded, and Mason pulled me into the flow of dancers. Instead of focusing on his nearness, I concentrated on the music and the steps of the dance. The tempo was fast, and the couples moved in fluid synchronization. Fortunately, Gret and Winnifer had wandered off to explore other parts of the house.

  There’d been a time when I wouldn’t have dared draw this sort of attention to myself. Reev and I had preferred to keep our heads down and survive as best we could. The world had been simpler then. Smaller. Narrowed down to just me and Reev.

  I tripped over Mason’s foot. My fingers dug into his shoulder to stay upright as his hand tightened at my waist.

  “Sorry,” I said, my feet shuffling and stuttering their way through the dance, nothing like the effortless glide of the other dancers. Mason didn’t appear to mind. He knew what he was doing. When did he have the chance to learn this kind of dance in Etu Gahl? Then again, he was probably a really fast learner.

  “You’re doing fine,” he said. I smiled, grateful that he hadn’t allowed the kiss to alter our friendship. I knew there were still things we’d need to talk about, but those things could wait for another time.

  “You’re humoring me.”

  “A bit.” He grinned. “When do you think Dennyl will return with a reply?”

  “Hopefully tomorrow,” I said, trying to relax into the movements. Why was sword fighting so much easier than dancing? “What do you think Miraya will say?”

  “I think she’ll understand that it’s our responsibility to defend these people against Ninu’s creations. She’ll send help.”

  “You sound confident.”

  “The alternative would be to leave Lanathrill to fight a horde of chimera alone. It wouldn’t exactly be the best start as neighbors, and there’s a lot at stake.”

  I didn’t think Miraya would jeopardize a possible alliance, either, but it was nice to know that he agreed.

  “Speaking of our start as neighbors,” I said, leaning in so that my mouth hovered at his ear. I could feel him tense, but I gave him a quick summary of Lanathrill’s conflict with Peshtigo.

  “With the way Emryn first greeted us, the others don’t trust him anyway,” Mason said quietly. “After we’re done in Vethe, maybe we should head east and see this Peshtigo.”

  “Maybe.” That was probably the only way we were going to get any real answers.

  “I’ll keep my ears open in the meantime, though.”

  “Emryn seems eager for the chance to talk to Miraya,” I said. We made another pass around the room. My feet didn’t feel quite so clumsy this time, at last picking up on where to step and how to turn into the motions. Mason’s strength helped, carrying me through the dance with typical hollow grace.

  “He’s warmed up to you,” Mason said.

  I recalled the conversation we’d had that morning in the city. “He has.”

  When we’d first arrived, Yara had said that she thought he’d lost hope. Maybe it wasn’t just his demeanor that had changed. Maybe Emryn had begun to hope again.

  A racket rose to our left. The commotion was coming from one of the adjoining rooms. Mason and I identified Winnifer’s and Gret’s voices at the same time, and we fled the dance floor in mutual silence.

  “Stay here,” I said to Mason before squeezing through the guests who’d gathered around to watch the exchange. When I emerged into the circle that had formed around the pair, I looked between them to the man who’d caught the short end of their tempers.

  “What happened?” I asked, shouting to be heard over the clamor of arguing and the music still playing in the other room.

  Winnifer noticed me first. “This oaf thinks we’re not fit to be here,” she said, jabbing her thumb at the man who was looking down his long nose at Gret.

  The man was immaculate, from his polished boots to the lace at his throat to the way his hair was combed back from his forehead, and he regarded me with similar disdain. I might look the part, but I hadn’t yet learned to project the kind of self-importance that would convince these people I belonged here. Winnifer and Gret, although dressed in beautiful gowns and styled with the same precision as every other woman here, hadn’t even bothered pretending to fit in.

  “If we allowed just anyone to attend, our events would hardly be exclusive, would they?” the man was saying to Gret. Bejeweled rings ornamented each of the fingers he stabbed at her. Judging by the darkening look on Gret’s face, he was about to lose those fingers if I didn’t intervene.

  I brushed past Winnifer to step between the man and Gret. “I’ll thank you to keep your snobbery to yourself,” I said over Gret’s protests.

  It was the wrong thing to say, because the man sneered at me, unimpressed. “Who are you?”

  Our arrival in Vethe had been rather public, but without knowing what these people had been told about our presence in the city, I wasn’t sure how to answer him.

  “And where did you get that dress?” he demanded, a note of suspicion in his voice. “Steal it?”

  “Really?” I asked, because there was no other way to respond without physical violence. Maybe I could understand now why the middle class took issue with the farmers. This man was worse than most of the people I’d met in the White Court—people whose superiority I’d become practiced at brushing off—and my restraint was fast dwindling.

  The way Gret kept digging her nails into my forearm, however, helped to remind me that the last thing I needed was an incident between our countries when we hadn’t even signed any papers yet. As Cassia had said earlier of her own position, I was a representative of Ninurta and I was expected to behave in a certain way. So I would grit my teeth and be as diplomatic as possible.

  “I am adviser to Kahl Miraya of Ninurta, and we’re here as the personal guests of the voice of the Council,” I said, trying and failing not to take pleasure in the way the man’s face paled at the mention of Cassia.

  He attempted to scoff, but several bystanders interjected that they had, in fact, seen me arrive with Cassia. At that, the man took two large steps back, which Winnifer and Gret observed with snorts of laughter.

  “Let’s get back to enjoying this party, shall we?”

  At Cassia’s interruption, everyone jumped to attention, scattering almost instantly. That was some impressive crowd control.

  “Well done, Kai,” she said with a slight smile.

  “Were you watching the whole time?” I asked before waving off Gret and Winnifer
, the latter of whom at least looked somewhat sorry for causing a scene.

  “I wanted to see what you’d do,” Cassia admitted. She touched my elbow and guided me back into the center room with the dancers. I searched for Mason, who stood near the entryway, waiting.

  “And what’s your verdict?” I asked Cassia dryly. Mine was that I hadn’t the disposition to be a foreign liaison if this had been a preview of future conflicts. Physical fights were so much simpler.

  She smiled. “You’ll make a fine politician.”

  CHAPTER 23

  IT WAS LATE when we left. I dozed in the carriage. We were dropped off at the gates of the citadel, a servant appearing to help us down.

  I smothered a yawn and bid Cassia a good night before heading inside. Another servant met me outside my bedroom.

  “Madgie asked me to help you out of your gown,” the girl said, hovering at my shoulder as I pushed into my room in a groggy haze.

  “Just unbutton me,” I said, presenting her with my back.

  Her nimble fingers went to work, loosening the row of buttons. The material sagged off my shoulders.

  “Thanks. You can go. I’m sure you’d rather be sleeping.” I stepped out of the gown and draped it over my armchair, too tired to care about modesty. I rooted around for my nightshirt.

  “Very well. Also, your sentinel arrived about an hour ago.”

  I tugged the shirt down over my torso before looking at her over my shoulder, blinking the fog from my eyes. “What?”

  “The one you sent to Ninurta. He’s returned. He’s gone to bed for the night, but he had a message with him. It’s on your dresser.”

  I whirled around, my eyes focusing on the folded slip of paper I hadn’t noticed before. Dennyl must have rested for only a few hours in Ninurta before making the return trip.

  “Thank you,” I said, dismissing her.

  I sat on the stool and broke the wax seal on the paper. I was wide awake now, my heart pounding as I unfolded the letter.