“Carryn,” Maralt said gently. His fingertips brushed against her temple with the touch of his mind inside her own. She turned to the relief he would bring her, sinking into the light comfort of oblivion that came like a blanket.
She was set onto soft ground and a field of flowers opened around her, the earthy smell of them rising to fill her lungs. The darkness faded.
“Rest here a while,” Maralt said.
Carryn turned to look for him, but he wasn’t there. The sky above her was a deep, endless blue. She smiled at it and the drowsy, almost drugged feeling that came over her. She let it take her.
~*~
Chapter 3
The Palace lights spilled through the open spaces in the draperies, cutting through the shadows of the night. Dynan wished time would stop and keep it dark. Dawn only drew the moment closer where he’d have to face the public, swearing an oath of purity before the High Bishop and billions of people watching on the live feed. Every time he thought about it his throat clamped shut.
He stumbled out of bed, moved to the couch that faced the fireplace, and dropped into it, putting his head in his hands. He felt mostly all right after a few injections to repair the torn muscles in his back. His eyes stung though, from lack of sleep. He couldn’t remember a time he had such dark, disturbing dreams.
He retrieved the talon from the table where he left it, being careful to avoid touching the sharp edge. It was keen enough to cut and he’d already spilled enough blood.
“There’ll be more, a lot more, soon.”
Dynan looked up and saw a man beside the fireplace, standing there as plain as anything. Dynan was immediately reminded of renderings he’d seen of the First King of Cobalt, Alurn Telaerin. Alurn died relatively young, not yet thirty, though no one knew the exact time or date. The man before him seemed about the same age. He had long black hair. He was about the right height, several kel taller than Dynan and broader across the shoulder. But while his ancestors always had blue eyes, this man’s eyes were dark, the color indistinguishable.
“Come find me,” the man said and took a step forward. He absorbed the meager light of the room, wrapped in darkness. Dynan shrank away from him.
“Who are you?” he asked, wishing he had a comboard in hand. He could use it to call the guard, but his was across the room on the bedside table.
“We knew that you would...I knew you would come.”
An uncomfortable, almost ravenous eagerness in his gaze made Dynan scramble up and over the couch, and he backed toward the door.
“Come find me, Dynan. You’re the only one who can.”
Dynan met the wall, clutching the talon tightly in hand. The man’s eyes snapped to it and he drew in a breath, smiling in apparent pleasure. He took another step closer, through the couch, not over, not around, and stopped in front of Dynan. He breathed deeply again.
“Come for me,” he said, reaching out his hand.
Even as Dynan shrank away from him, the man shifted his shape, melding into a thing of darkness, stealer of souls, a wraith.
Black clung to its scaled skin. Dragon-like, it had the ability to walk upright, and hold a weapon in its clawed hand, or so the legends said. It was winged and filled the space of the room. From it, an overwhelming sense of evil flowed.
Dynan stood, frozen and unable to move, at the door of his room, wishing it was open so he could get through it. Black eyes focused. A cruel smile spread across a protruding mouth. The thing had fangs.
Its tongue lolled across jagged teeth as if it was licking its lips in anticipation. Acrid smoke billowed into Dynan’s eyes. For an instant, he stood on the side of a hill strewn with rotting corpses. Instead of one nightmare staring at him, there were six of them.
The talon clattered to the floor. Dynan whirled around, meaning to escape. He expected to see more of the monsters, but his vision cleared. There was only his room and the light still coming through the curtains.
The sound of pent up breath cut the silence. He sagged against the door, wondering what just happened. Was he hallucinating? Did the talon cause this? Could it? He looked at the talon where he dropped it, and at the slice across his fingers that oozed a small bit of blood. The way that man-hallucination-apparition-thing had reacted to seeing the blood made Dynan’s skin crawl.
Hurriedly, as if it might hurt to touch it, he picked the talon back up and set it down on the table again. He started wiping his hand off on his nightshirt and then didn’t know why he was doing it.
He stood for a moment, torn between trying to get a few more hours of sleep or giving up for the night. Finally, he retrieved his robe and went down the hall, through a sitting room and the study he shared with Dain, and then the dinning room, aiming for the kitchen to get a mug of tea. That would help wake him up at least.
He went through the open doorway to the kitchen, and froze two steps in, blinking in the half-light to make sure she wasn’t an apparition too.
She had next to nothing on except a flimsy, gossamer kind of gown that really couldn’t be considered clothing. Dynan didn’t think girls were supposed to wear things like that, except maybe in bed and not out wandering around; yet here she was in his kitchen in the small hours before dawn.
Liselle Tremault, his sister’s lady in waiting, stood at the heating element, stirring liquid in a pot that smelled like milk and something else. She had her back to him, her brown hair loose and flowing over her shoulders. She was completely unaware that he was watching. Dynan thought before she became aware he better stop staring at certain parts of her.
He was about to turn around and leave, escape before he’d have to speak to her, but she must have heard him make a sound. She whirled around abruptly, gasping at him.
“Oh good God, what are you doing here?” she said in a rush.
He watched while she assessed which one he was, her eyes darting down to his hand, picking out the sapphire ring he always wore. Dain had an emerald one.
Dynan couldn’t help where his eyes ended up. The front side was just as enticing as the back. The nightgown she had on was completely see-through. Dynan thought looking at the floor was probably a good idea.
Liselle pulled in another breath, trying to be composed and mostly succeeded except for the color that rose in her face. Wordlessly, trying not to look directly at her, Dynan took off his robe and handed it over. He wondered what his attendants, or God forbid, his father would think if they happened to walk in just then.
The lady hesitated a second and then took the garment, getting into it quickly. “Thank you. I don’t normally...I mean I do actually, but...”
Dynan didn’t know what she meant by all that, moving to get the tea. He stopped at the basin first to rinse off the cut. There were two mugs on the counter and a few spice jars, making him wonder who she was cooking for.
“I asked if it would be all right to use your kitchen. I never imagined you’d be awake at the same time in the middle of the night. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“You didn’t,” he said, forcing the words out. He felt his throat clamp shut.
“This is for Shalis,” Liselle said, gesturing to the mugs when she joined him at the counter. “She should be here by now. This is what we usually do when she can’t sleep; come here, sit and drink our warm spiced milk. You should try it.”
She filled the mugs with the warm liquid, then held one out to him. Dynan shook his head, gesturing to the tea.
“You’re up awfully late,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
At that, Dynan shrugged, trying to think of something else to say, or anything. Talking wasn’t his strong suit, to strangers, or anyone for that matter, unless he knew them very well. He didn’t want to talk about the oath he was about to take. He didn’t want to talk about the talon, or the creepy ghost monster either. He didn’t want her to think he was crazy.
For a second he saw the wraiths again, crouching on the hill, twitching as if they might spring at him. The urge to run struck him,
but his legs wouldn’t move.
A warm, firm hand took his and he blinked.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Liselle was saying as she drew him to the small table in the corner where he sometimes had lunch with Dain. She took the tea from him and put him on the bench while his vision swirled to darkness. “What is it? Dynan?”
He wasn’t sure what was happening, except to hate that it was happening in front of this girl. His voice decided to take a complete leave of absence. It was an affliction that struck any time he got nervous, but especially around incredibly beautiful women or in front of masses of people.
When his eyes cleared, Liselle sat across from him, still holding his hand. He wondered then if her being here on this night of all nights was some sort of cruel joke. If it was a test, he wouldn’t mind failing it.
“Here drink this,” she said. “And I think you should eat something. No, don’t argue. I promise you’ll feel better.”
She put the mug of spiced milk into his hands as she stood and turned for cold storage. She came out with a block of yellow cheese that she cut a few strips off of, pulled out some bread and smeared it with nut butter. She added a few green gems, ate one for herself and set the plate down in front of him.
“Eat,” she said and sat down again, popping another gem in her mouth. She broke off a piece of the cheese too, nibbling a corner.
She was right. He did feel better. He sat and ate in silence while she kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation. Dynan guessed Shalis had fallen back asleep and then forgot about her.
“I’ll never forget the first day I came here,” Liselle said. “I was terrified of doing anything wrong, or saying something I shouldn’t. When you come here, you know, it feels like the place and everyone are just bigger than life. The first person I met was Melgan Lon. I almost turned around and ran right back out the door.”
“He’s not so bad,” Dynan said, his voice an almost inaudible whisper. He started shaking his head and really wished he could get out of sitting here if it meant he had to talk. He realized she was watching him too closely, and probably knew about this problem he had. Everyone knew.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” Liselle said, and patted his arm. “Shalis is the same way. She’s only ten and she’s already helping to plan these big events, like the Spring Festival. She has lists of menus, entertainment, who’s coming, where they should sit. She’s ten! And she’s doing things that an adult would find hugely stressful. She’s trying so hard to make up for the fact that her m—”
Liselle stopped abruptly. Dynan realized what she meant to say, and that she was afraid to bring up his mother.
He remembered a servant once, in discussion with another servant, and like many adults, failed to realize the children were listening. The servant intimated his mother should never have had another child after Dynan and Dain, as if being pregnant had caused her death. That servant no longer worked in the Palace, but Shalis heard her and took her words straight to heart. Despite everyone’s best efforts to tell her otherwise, she felt responsible, despite being told their mother contracted one of the incurables. There wasn’t anything to be done to save her. Shalael lived long enough to give birth, giving them all one last gift. Shalis was just like her.
“Don’t let her,” Dynan said in the same hard to hear voice. “If it’s too much for her to do, don’t let her.”
“She’s very stubborn,” Liselle said and Dynan laughed.
“And you,” she went on. “You fell down a hole yesterday. You could have been killed, and yet, you’re going through with this ceremony today, in front of billions of people no less. It’s too much for you too.”
Dynan appreciated the indignation in her voice, leaning back to listen while she went on about how the oath ceremony ought to be postponed.
He couldn’t agree more, but stopped thinking coherently beyond the mention of billions of people watching him. Really there were days it almost made him puke.
Liselle patted his hand. Again, she seemed to know what he was thinking, smiling in such a way, he found hard to meet her gaze.
To fill the ensuing silence, she launched into the story about how she’d been sponsored to come to the Palace and then selected as Shalis’ Lady in Waiting. It was more than he cared to learn about the somewhat convoluted process, but it kept her from leaving, and kept him from thinking too much.
Liselle didn’t seem to mind that he only managed a few words here and there. Paying attention was evidently enough to keep her happy. Finally though, she barely suppressed a yawn.
“It’s getting late,” Liselle said after a silence. “Or early I should say. You have a big day ahead of you and you ought to try and get at least a little rest before you have to go.”
She smiled at the pained expression that came over him. He shook his head but ended up smiling with her
“It won’t be that bad, unless of course you’re so exhausted you can’t remember what you’re supposed to say. From what I read about it, it’s quite a lot of back and forth between you and the High Bishop. Is he as scary in person as I imagine he’d be?”
Dynan had to nod. In a few hours, he would be down on his knees in front of the old man, maybe the oldest man alive, before the Altar of the Gods, swearing he’d forsake all women until he was married.
He looked at the one sitting across from him and hated the idea. He was caught again. She didn’t seem to mind being stared at. He dropped his gaze to the scraps of food left on his plate and wished for a different life.
Voices came from the long hall off the other kitchen door. Liselle was about to say something, but stopped abruptly. Her eyes widened and she turned into a statue.
Dynan wanted to make a run for it, but realized he’d be seen. Getting caught trying to escape would certainly look guilty. It made him angry too, since he hadn’t been doing anything but sitting in his own kitchen, and listening while the most beautiful woman in the world talked to him.
“Is that your father?” Liselle said, her voice a strangled whisper.
“And Melgan Lon,” he said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. It figured. “And it sounds like the First Minister and First Secretary might be with them. They tend to go around in a pack.”
“What are they doing here?” she asked, cinching up his robe to her neck. “I mean, of all the nights. I’ve only met him once, you know.”
“Well, you’re about to meet him again, and they’re coming for me, what with the day ahead and all,” he said, angry he wasn’t able to speak in full sentences an hour ago. That figured too.
Liselle groaned, clearly dreading the thought. “I suppose this is why my mother sent me to Ladies school, to be prepared for something like this.”
“You go to school for this?”
Liselle heaved a sigh. “Supposedly to be taught how to be poised and walk right and talk right and not get into compromising situations like this one.”
“Didn’t work too well,” he said and laughed when her eyes widened at the insult.
Ambrose Telaerin walked in then and halted abruptly just inside the door, dumbfounded to find Dynan with a girl on the cusp of taking a vow of purity.
Ambrose was a tall, imposing man. He had darkening blond hair and a piercing, direct gaze. It was impossible to lie to him, or bend the truth even just a little. The King’s eyes widened when he realized whose robe Liselle had on. Dynan thought it better to ignore the incredulous look he got for that. Ambrose waved Liselle down almost impatiently when she moved to get up to bow to him.
The Captain of the King’s Guard, Melgan Lon, filled the doorway next, creaking of leather and chainmail. Dynan remembered putting that badge of office on, crawling into it when he was ten and being plastered to the floor by it. Melgan stared at them, his mouth dropping open as he came in. Brendin Moch, the King’s Secretary, and Roth Perquin, the First Minister, entered wearing the same expressions. Dynan saw that Boral Sloyl was there too, bringing up the rear. He was the Palace Master at A
rms. They were all large men, physically fit and intimidating. All of them had closely cropped dark hair, except for Brendin, who was the King's double. All of these men were Ambrose's trusted friends and Dynan’s surrogate fathers.
For a moment, thick silence filled the room, but then Ambrose gestured Liselle over to make room on the bench for him.
His father leveled him with the ice blue stare he was famous for, eyebrows raised, demanding an immediate answer.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Dynan said.
Ambrose looked down at Liselle without commenting.
“Shalis couldn’t sleep,” she said quickly for her part of it.
“She appears to be missing from the group,” Ambrose said.
“She never made it this far,” Liselle said, outwardly unruffled by the King’s presence. “She woke up, as usual, saying she was hungry, Your Majesty.”
“Still?”
Liselle nodded. Dynan didn’t know what they meant.
“As usual?” he asked and his father glanced at him again. Maybe he was surprised Dynan was talking too.
“She’s been having problems sleeping through the night,” Liselle said. “She would get up and of course before I came, Lady Hendel was with her, but she had some difficulty...I mean...”
“Rene is getting old,” Ambrose said bluntly. “Shalis was waking up in the middle of the night and wandering around the Palace alone.” Ambrose stopped at that, glancing at Liselle. “Something I hoped her Lady in Waiting wouldn’t end up emulating.”
“You can’t count this as wandering the halls, Sir.”
Dynan laughed at her tone. There weren’t many people who would dare rebuke the King. She didn’t seem to have the same sense of reverence or awe sitting here with him that most people did. She wasn’t treating him as anything more than a concerned father.
Ambrose only frowned at him. “I thought she’d have settled down by now. I’m not sure what else to do about it.”
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