by Patty Jansen
“Um . . .” Carro hated how he blushed. “I’m Carro.”
The man chuckled. “We figured.”
“And you are?”
“Farey.”
His intense stare made Carro uneasy, but he felt he had to say something. He wanted to say something. Not to look like an idiot, for once.
“I haven’t seen you at the eyrie before.” It was an insanely stupid remark, he knew that as soon as it left his mouth. Apprentices never saw but a very small part of what went on in the eyrie.
Again that chuckle, breathy and nervous and very strange at the same time. “You wouldn’t have seen me. It’s my job to be seen only when I want to be.” The grey gaze roamed Carro’s naked shoulders, the pale skin of his belly.
Carro turned back to Korinne and made a show of unstoppering the bottle. His hands trembled. He drank a few swigs without tasting anything, and when he passed the bottle on, noticed how on the other side of the bath two noble sons faced each other. One was old enough to have the golden markings on his cheeks, the other was not much older than Carro. As he watched, the older Knight pulled the younger closer and kissed him full on the mouth. The light gilded the younger man’s cheekbones, His eyes were closed; his hands slid down the older Knight’s chest.
Blood roared in Carro’s ears. He wanted to turn away, give his attention to Korinne, who was stroking his shoulders, but he couldn’t. Men did these things to each other by choice?
Next to him, that strange Farey gave another one of his breathy chuckles. “You’re not with kiddies anymore, boy.” The tone of his voice made Carro shiver.
Carro didn’t trust himself to meet the man’s eyes. He forced his gaze back to Korinne, but saw sinewy, olive-skinned shoulders. “You . . .” He cleared his throat. “You have parties here often?”
“Not me.” She laughed. “But Rider Cornatan invites his elite group here quite often, I hear. This is the first time I’ve been here. He asked me to come.” Her eyes said for you.
She looped her arm around his neck. Her bare breasts pressed against his chest. Carro wondered what had made her change her mind about him. Nothing he had done, that was for sure.
But it was pleasant, and she was offering, and doing what she wanted, whatever the reason behind it, seemed easier than facing that strange Farey on his other side, and with all the uncomfortable feelings that brought.
He bent forward, pressing his lips on hers. She replied, eager and passionate.
The rest of the night passed in a drunken blur. When he stood in the deeper part of the bath, Korinne could loop her legs around him. It was easy to lift her in the water at the height he wanted her. She swallowed him, and he didn’t object. His body obeyed his mind. For those few crazy moments, he ruled the world. He was Carro. He’d show his father how “useless” he was. Let his father beg him on his knees for forgiveness. Let his mother learn what it was to live in hardship.
If we are nice all the time, we’d never get anywhere.
He didn’t suffer any flashbacks all night.
Chapter 15
* * *
JEVAITHI PULLED ON her thick furs and looked at herself in the dressing room mirror. Lush, thick and pure white, the cloak had been made in all haste for this visit. It suited her, she had to admit, and brought out the lushness of her hair. She had the maid pin it up in a loose bun today.
Underneath the cloak she wore a thick dress, tall boots, woollen stockings and felt underwear over her usual silk finery. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her new clothes, feeling like a little girl again, like walking on her mother’s hand. It was exciting, as if the whole world was out there to be discovered.
She had even put some colour on her face. Lines of kohl and a fine coating of silver paint accentuated her eyes.
Not too much or Rider Cornatan would object. She could almost hear his voice: You are still a child.
No, she wasn’t. She pulled up the leather strap she had insisted her maid bring her, and let the feather dangle over her chest. It was a crude thing, but one such as the new maidens of the city wore. It made her feel grown up. It made her feel like she was in control of part of her life, no matter how small that part was.
“Your escort is ready,” a male voice said.
Jevaithi gasped and tucked the feather back under the white fur of her cloak, her heart still thudding.
Rider Cornatan strode into the room. The dressing room! She should really talk to him about that. She was no longer a girl and he would have to start treating her like an adult, and an adult of the opposite sex at that.
He stopped a few paces inside the door and stared. Oh yes, she did not mistake the look in his eyes. She saw it in the Knights who attended her.
“Your Highness, you look . . . magnificent,” he said. His blue gaze roamed her body as if seeking something to criticise, something that was too daring or too revealing for the citizens of the City of Glass to see, and, having found nothing, came to rest on her right arm, which she held in her pocket. Nothing untoward there either.
She stared back defiantly. No, nobody will know.
“Are we ready to go, then?” she asked.
“We are, Your Highness, unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you would decide it’s not safe enough.”
Not safe enough? She frowned at him. “Is there a reason why I should change my mind about this trip? A reason that wasn’t present when you agreed to take me? Which was . . . yesterday?”
His eyes met hers. He opened his mouth. Hesitated. “No, Your Highness, there isn’t.”
“Then let’s go.”
He was lying; she could feel that. Something was happening right here in the palace. And she bet it was something to do with those golden rays that wormed their way up from the ground to her tower room. Icefire, stronger than ever before. Whatever it was, he was worried, but would rather endanger her than talk about it.
Interesting.
She left the dressing room straight-backed, without looking at him. The fur lining of the cloak swished around her ankles. It was an unfamiliar sensation that left her feeling wonderfully warm and covered. For once, she wouldn’t have to look at the world from a great height. For once, people would look at her face rather than her dress, or what they could see through the fabric.
The door opened, the Knights stepped to the side and then . . . oh, freedom. She walked onto the landing in front of her quarters. A breeze of frost-tinged air wafted up from the depths of the atrium, an immense triangular hall filled with bluish light, glass and mirrors. It was said that the hall had formed through the collapse of one building against another. When seen from here, the very top of the triangle, the theory made sense, and as far as she knew, the floors did slope in most of the unused other side of the palace.
Down below, far down, the palace workers moved like crawling insects, past the fountain, a triangular basin of water in the middle of the hall. Although blue with salts, dripping water had frozen in grotesque stalagmites at the foot of the burbling fountain. Miniature ice floes bobbed on the pond’s surface, carved in the shapes of flowers and animals.
Lifts trundled up or down along rails set in the atrium’s walls. There was the sound of ordinary people talking, laughing. It was intoxicating.
“Your Highness.”
Rider Cornatan’s voice broke her reverie.
A lift cubicle had come. Two guards stepped in, then Jevaithi and Rider Cornatan and then two more guards. The doors hissed closed. The cubicle jolted into action. Through the glass ceiling, Jevaithi spotted the jiggling chain that held the cubicle in place. The floors slid by. Sometimes they passed remnants of the destruction that had created the palace: twisted metal bent into elegant sculptures, haphazardly holding up sheets of grey stone. Molten glass carved into arches. Sometimes she wondered what weapon could twist stone and metal so.
Lights above the doors indicated that the lift had come to the ground floor. The doors opened and she saw more K
nights, forming a guard of honour across the polished tiles of the atrium floor.
Through the glass wall of the main entrance Jevaithi spotted a sled in the street, surrounded by yet more guards. Were all these Knights going to come with her? There wouldn’t be anyone left to guard the palace. Never mind her desire for an unobtrusive visit. She was going out, that was the important thing. Once she was amongst the people, she would try to stay there as long as possible.
As they were about to leave the atrium, a stiff grey-haired man came up to Rider Cornatan.
“You’re going out?” he said in a low voice and his eyes flashed hidden meaning. He was a Senior Knight, with golden stripes for years of service on his collar. He had more stripes than Jevaithi had celebrated her birthday.
Rider Cornatan nodded curtly. “Newlight festival.”
“When are you back?”
“Why? Anything wrong?”
“Well—about the young lad you brought in last night . . .” Then he must have realised Jevaithi could hear what he said and he lowered his voice. They stopped walking. Jevaithi stopped, too, a few paces off.
The two men exchanged a few comments in voices too low for her to hear. Rider Cornatan’s eyes widened briefly then he turned to Jevaithi.
“Continue on to the sled, Your Highness, I will be there soon.”
Jevaithi didn’t move.
Rider Cornatan raised his eyebrows in the way he did when he was annoyed. “I said I will be there soon.”
“I am the Queen. I have a right to hear what is going on in my city, don’t I? So I think I’d rather stay and hear about this problem.”
“Your Highness, it’s only a minor thing, not even important enough to discuss in the Knights’ Council. It’s certainly not important enough to delay our trip. You might miss the races.” He turned to the Senior Knight. “We will discuss this later.”
The man gave a stiff nod, but Jevaithi didn’t miss the tightly pressed lips. He obviously didn’t think it was a minor concern. She wondered if it had anything to do with the increase of the golden rays of icefire. If so, it wasn’t unimportant to her either. Or maybe it had something to do with the more than fifty criminals the Knights had caught in Bordertown. One of her guards had let that information slip, but Rider Cornatan hadn’t wanted to tell her how those people had been caught or what they had done.
“I think I should like to attend when the Knights’ Council sits next,” she said.
Rider Cornatan turned to her, his expression stiff. “We should start to think in that direction, yes, but I’m not sure you need to be introduced to the politics of running the land just yet.”
Politics? There were the Knights and the Knights. What was so hard about that?
“I want to.”
“We shall see.”
He kept his face neutral, since he could hardly berate her with all these people present, but he would probably like to do so if the twitch of a muscle in his neck was anything to go by.
Her people were her protection. Once she was back in her prison, she would suffer. She thought of the gull’s tail feather on the leather strap around her neck. The token suddenly felt heavy as stone. What if Rider Cornatan was to take her up on her advertisement tonight. . . ?
Quite a crowd had gathered to watch in the street. Held back by a couple of Knights, the people were all nobles of the City of Glass, dressed in their fine furs and gaudy headdresses. Women wore face paint and jewellery.
As soon as Jevaithi stepped out the door, a cheer went up.
She waved to the people as she had been taught. A Knight spread sand from a bucket so she didn’t slip in the snow. Another held open the door to the carriage. She climbed up the steps and settled on the bench next to Rider Cornatan.
The sled was huge and white, drawn by four bears. Their white fur shone and was washed and groomed to perfection. They even had jewels on their collars and harnesses, which were made from red leather. One of the palace guards sat in the driver’s seat. Two Knights stood on the front runners, and two behind, all prominently displaying weapons. So she was to have four minders, and Rider Cornatan, and the driver, who would stay with the sled. She could handle that.
With a flick of the reins the bears loped into action and started moving down the street. Jevaithi saw herself and the sled reflected in the glass façades of the buildings that lined the street. Pompous entrances were guarded by sculptures carved of molten glass. Behind the windows were racks of the finest clothing by the city’s finest leather workers, or brightly lit benches with swathes of green plants. Customers stood in line for attendants to cut their fresh vegetables. No such things as mundane shops here. Through another window, customers sat drinking from bronze-coloured cups on dainty tables surrounding a giant glass sculpture of a dragon.
The going was slow in the streets. The Knights had to motion people aside, who then crowded along the street and in porches. They cheered. Jevaithi waved and smiled. A young man ran with the sled offering a tray of biscuits. They looked wonderful, but Rider Cornatan’s sharp glance stopped her from taking one. They could be poisoned, after all. Silly. She didn’t care. If she died today, she would die having fun. Fifteen years old, and she didn’t care if she never saw the sun rise on another day. If she died, she would have denied the Knight’s Council the pleasure of using her body to further their aims. If she died, it would be without having a Senior Knight’s handprints all over her and his child in her belly. If she died, it would be because she wanted to, not because anyone said so. Although, of course, there were better things than dying, and possibly other ways to escape her fate.
Escape. The taste of the word on her tongue was like that of a rare exotic fruit. Being out here amongst the people almost felt as good as escape.
They passed the city gates and the bears moved at full speed. The white plains spread out before her. Sunlight poured gold over the snow, casting long shadows and millions of glittering gem-like crystals.
An icy breeze bit into Jevaithi’s cheeks. Her maids would probably complain about what it did to her skin, but she didn’t care; she felt alive. Out here waited young men who didn’t yet know the newly blooded virgin who would throw herself at their feet. She’d take herself off into one of the melteries, she’d dance, she’d flirt, and when the young man took the bait, she’d make sure it was out in the open, when none of the Senior Knights could make a scene.
Escape.
The jumble of low buildings that was the Outer City grew on the horizon at the same speed with which the excitement bloomed in her heart.
The buildings had been designed by locals and the people called them limpets. She had never been inside one—another task to add to her list of things to do after she ascended the throne on her birthday.
Before long, she could make out the colourful tents that had been set up on the plain and the fences for the animals. No Legless Lions yet, but one of her maids told her this morning that the festivities included a Legless Lion race. She would have to see that. Legless Lions were fun to watch when they ran on their flippers.
A number of eagles rose from the festival grounds. Knights in the saddles rode with quiet confidence. Low and gliding, they escorted the sled towards the tents. More guards. She’d escape them all.
Children ran out onto the plain, cheering and shouting when they met the sled. They ran along, stumbling through the snow to keep up with the bears. Their faces were red; their eyes shone with wonder. Jevaithi smiled at them and waved. The kids laughed and waved back, excitement in their eyes. She could hear their young voices: Mother, I saw the Queen today. What would it be like to be one of these kids, to live anonymously, to ride sleds down the hill, to build snow castles, to just walk around here without anyone watching?
The sled passed a fence and then they were amongst the festivities. The driver slowed the bears to a walking pace. The audience grew quickly. People ran through the pens, poked their heads out of tents, came with their families. Their faces were bright with happine
ss. The driver stood up on his seat and shouted, “Make way for Queen Jevaithi of the City of Glass!”
More and more people gathered along the sides, cheering and shouting. Someone started a chant, Jevaithi, Jevaithi, and before long everyone was shouting her name. Jevaithi waved until her arm ached. These people were her safety shield.
The sled came to a halt.
Rider Cornatan jumped off first and bowed, holding out his hand. “Your Highness.”
If he was still angry about her insistence to attend the Knights’ Council, he didn’t show it.
Jevaithi stepped from the sled onto hard frozen ground where again a Knight was spreading sand. They sweep the ground I walk on. Rider Cornatan held out his arm to support her, but she waved it away. Her new boots were soft and warm. She wanted to walk in the snow, away from all these eyes. She wanted to run, be alone and free. She wanted to slip and fall, tumble in the snow. It looked soft.