"Majesty." Lorkin bowed his dark golden head, amusement brightening his eyes. "It seems we are caught out."
"Exactly what you are caught in, and how serious it is, that is what I want to know," Efrin said. His eyes narrowed a little, as if he didn't like how lightly Lorkin took the situation.
"Papa, I don't care what you think--" Megassa began.
"No, I don't suppose you do, Megs." He smiled and held out a hand when his use of her pet name noticeably cooled the growing temper on her face. "What I want to be sure of is what you two think, how you feel." He sighed and nodded, pleased, when she settled onto the stool pulled up to the end of the table, so she sat at his right hand. "I hope I'm not rushing things to say I pray the two of you will be as happy as I intend to be with Glyssani."
"Papa!" She burst out laughing and leaped up from the stool, nearly sprawling across the corner of the table to wrap her arms around him.
"You look stunned, Lord Lorkin," Meghianna said. She left the far side of the room where she had waited with Mrillis, and sat down on the stool on the left end of the table. "Is there a problem?"
"Lady." He bowed to her, barely glancing her way, as he watched Megassa kiss both her father's cheeks before settling down on her stool again. "I'd be a fool to hope I would have the unconditional blessing of the Warhawk. I know my history isn't good, and there are far more worthy men who would give their ancestral estates and all their imbrose for a chance to court Princess Megassa."
Mrillis gave Lorkin good marks for honesty and bravery, but he wasn't sure if all that humility was entirely genuine. He decided to stay discretely in the half-shadows on the far side of the room. This was more a family matter than a kingdom matter, though he didn't doubt many would consider Megassa's marriage a kingdom matter.
"Worthiness in the eyes of a father differs from the worthiness I see as Warhawk," Efrin said. "You've proven yourself loyal, to me and to Glyssani and King Markas. It was hard to believe that Timark had fooled you, that you believed his lies, simply because you are known as a discerning man who believes in the long view. However, we all make mistakes. Speaking as a father, I have to warn you to make no mistakes when it comes to my daughter's heart."
"She has cast a spell on me, Majesty, and put me through a thousand small deaths, making me wait," Lorkin said, shaky laughter in his voice. "I've barely noticed other women existed, since the day she rode into Welcairn Castle almost six years ago."
"And for a long time, I pretended I didn't know he existed," Megassa said, an uncharacteristic giggle nearly muffling her last few words. "At first, it was because I knew you wouldn't approve, Papa. Then I decided I liked him, and I wanted to make sure he wasn't playing games with me. Then... Well, I think he cast a spell on me, too."
"No, my sweet." Lorkin caught hold of her hand and kissed her fingertips, making her blush dark red. "Everyone will testify I have no imbrose, and star-metal is dead when I touch it." He shrugged. "That's partly why Timark trusted me so thoroughly, and I must admit, partly why I followed him. Jealousy, now that I look back and think on what I did."
"What are your plans for each other?" Efrin said.
Lorkin turned Megassa's hand over, to kiss her palm, then released her to step back, bowed deeply to Efrin, and withdrew two ornate bracelets of woven gold and silver, set with emeralds and sapphires. Meghianna gasped aloud and flinched. From where he stood, Mrillis couldn't see her face, but he suspected she felt a moment of hurt, envy, before she leaped from her stool to fly to her sister's side and embrace her, laughing.
"With your permission, Efrin Warhawk?" Lorkin bowed deeply again.
"Do you promise to make her happy, to put her safety and joy and dreams ahead of your own?" Efrin asked, his voice strained.
"I do swear before the Estall, on my very soul, on the bedrock where my ancestral estate stands in the Wayhauk Mountains. I will put Princess Megassa's life and my love for her even above my vows to the Warhawk's throne. I will swear it on Braenlicach, if you require."
Very impressive, Meghianna remarked, glancing across the room to meet Mrillis' gaze. Did you notice where his ancestral estate is? On Lygroes, not Moerta. And in territory that is more and more Encindi land and held by malcontents and rebels.
Maybe that's what attracted Megassa to him, Mrillis offered. She loves a good fight and vicious challenge. They'll have to fight someone for many years. Nothing like a common cause to forge two souls into one, he added, as she muffled laughter by hugging her sister again.
"All very well and good, Lord Lorkin," Efrin said, standing. He braced his hands on the table. "Megassa, the choice is yours. I give Lord Lorkin permission to ask you to marry him, but I will not give you to him unless you wish it."
"Thank you, Papa." Megassa blinked back tears. "You have no idea how afraid I was sometimes, that you'd have to use me in some ridiculous political marriage. Every time one of those Noveni pureblood idiots approached you the last few years, I was sure one of them would suggest it."
"They did, but that's as far as it got," Efrin admitted, shrugging. "You haven't answered us. Will you take him?"
Blushing, Megassa choked and couldn't force the words out, so she settled for nodding. Lorkin let out a bark of laughter and tossed the betrothal bands on the table, to wrap his arms around her and spin her around twice, kissing her soundly the entire time.
Will there ever be someone for me? Meghianna wondered, and the wistfulness of her tone, so soft, made Mrillis sure she hadn't intended anyone to hear her thoughts.
Chapter Fourteen
Meghianna decided it was a good thing Megassa became the center of attention among her warrior friends and the nobles she had befriended during the wedding preparations. Their congratulations and excitement and Megassa's happiness made her sister blissfully oblivious to much of what went on around Efrin and Glyssani.
Meghianna counted at least fifteen blessing toasts to the bride and groom that prayed for an heir to the Warhawk throne, and that was only before she grew tired of the noise and crowds and decided to take a long walk. Who knew how many more tactless, excited, joyful people mentioned their hopes that Efrin Warhawk would finally have a son--conveniently forgetting that his warrior daughter had proven herself more than capable of leadership? Meghianna knew if the circumstances had been slightly different, if Megassa wasn't deliriously happy with Lorkin and the excitement among her friends, she might have been badly hurt by the implied insult to her.
How soon, she wondered, until Lorkin or his ambitious friends made some move, even an innocent comment spoken in the ear of someone very influential on the Council of Lords, toward ensuring that a son of his union with Megassa would take the Warhawk throne after Efrin? Meghianna was as sure as she could be, without binding Lorkin in Threads and examining his thoughts, that the nobleman loved Megassa. But how much of that love was truly for her, and how much, even if totally unconscious, was the hope of fathering the next Warhawk?
She suspected Mrillis shared her concerns, because when she came back from her long walk and entered the royal pavilion to find some refreshment, she found the enchanter alone, reading one of the many message packets that had followed Efrin across the sea. Mrillis could put aside his duties and responsibilities with admirable ease for a man with such heavy burdens constantly riding him. The fact that he chose to attend to business instead of enjoying the music, dancing, feasting, songs and play-actor groups, hinted at some serious thoughts.
"There you are. Too much festivity for you, too?" he said with a smile, folding up the latest parchment packet.
"Too many deep thoughts to let me be frivolous," she said with a shrug. She stepped over to the table to pour herself some of the watered, sweet wine liberally dosed with cut fruit that Glyssani favored. When she gestured with the pitcher and a cup, Mrillis nodded, and she poured for him.
"I think I should visit Trevissa," she said, after she had served them both and settled on a bench set close to his folding camp chair.
"Warnings wo
uld be helpful." He met her gaze and didn't smile. But he didn't look concerned, either, and that encouraged her.
"Do you think she knows Papa has found the love of his soul?" Meghianna sipped, barely tasting the contents of her cup. Mrillis' eyebrow cocked up in clear question. "I remember, that visit when we were so little. She said she loved him. Love for him made her vulnerable to his enemies. Do you think she still loves him, and knowing Glyssani complete his soul music...hurts her?"
"Your question, I think, is whether knowing this will turn her prophetic gifts sour." He put down the stack of message pouches and rubbed his eyes with both fists, momentarily looking like a weary little boy.
Meghianna wondered what he had looked like before that brutal battle with Endor had turned his hair white and dug lines around his mouth and eyes. Even now, he was a handsome man. She wondered if she was the only one in the entire world who could see past the glamour of Mrillis' reputation and power, and see the strong, lonely man.
"I think Trevissa's madness binds her to the past," he continued. "Perhaps that is what makes her such an open candidate for visions. She has stepped outside of time. Like someone suspended leagues above the ground, able to see from one coast to another and all the activity occurring far below her feet."
"You taught me that the higher you go into the air, the less wholesome air there is to breathe."
"Hmm, yes, and you're far too clever a student, dismantling my imagery when I've only half constructed it." He scowled, making her laugh. When he smiled again, it was a weary expression. "No, my dear Meggi, you ceased being my student long ago. We are partners in this somber duty of protecting the World and the future, and ensuring the Blood of the Blood is born."
"My brother's child," she whispered. "I think I must go see Trevissa, just to ensure there is nothing we have overlooked."
"When are you leaving?"
"As soon as I will not be missed. Megs doesn't need me here. She most likely doesn't even realize I'm nowhere near her. Papa and Glyssani don't need me, most definitely, reminding them of their ages. I swear, I will do everything I can to protect her, while she carries my brother. It can't be easy for a woman with a grown son to endure another pregnancy. I wonder how she will feel, when she realizes what has happened."
"It hasn't happened yet." Mrillis saluted her with the cup and took a long drink. "Don't ruin the surprise for them, my dear. That's what makes prophets such unwelcome guests."
Meghianna considered, just for a moment, tipping her own cup over his head. She snorted, muffling the sound and the thought. There was no telling when Mrillis might inadvertently catch the image from her mind. He would laugh, she knew, but the knowledge that if he was another man, if she were another woman, he might retaliate by dousing her with his cup, made her sad. When would she ever find a man comfortable enough with her to have that kind of freedom?
* * * *
"Lady?" Glyssani appeared from the shadows before dawn, holding one of the jewel-toned enameled lanterns prepared especially for the wedding festivities.
"Oh, please..." Meghianna sighed and tried not to let her sleepless night show in her voice as she stepped out of the stall in the stables of Welcairn Castle. Her horse was nearly saddled and ready to leave. She had deliberately chosen this early hour to avoid having an escort. Her errand required as much secrecy as possible. Even if no one ever learned the questions she wanted to ask Trevissa, the fact that the Queen of Snows went to seek Wynystrys so soon after the Warhawk's marriage ceremony would cause too much speculation. "Can't we dispense with all the formality? We are family now. I don't know if we will ever be comfortable with my calling you Mother, but could you use my name?"
For a moment, she feared she had offended Glyssani. The woman went perfectly still, eyes wide, and her face went white. Then a rosy blush touched the queen's cheeks and traveled down her neck in a most becoming way. She pressed a trembling hand over her mouth, muffling a soft, shaking laugh.
"Then I didn't offend you?"
"Offend me?" Now it was Meghianna's turn to muffle laughter, in deference of the sleepers all around them. "How?"
"You are leaving so early. Your father and I wouldn't dream of keeping you when you wish to be gone, but we would like you to stay as long as possible."
"Do you? Really?" Meghianna choked on something that she feared was an urge to weep, and that made absolutely no sense at all. "You have no idea how... Well, I have learned that sometimes festivals are happier and freer without my presence. People have the oddest notion that the Queen of Snows doesn't approve of frivolity."
"I think it's all that white hair," her new stepmother offered. They shared a glance full of understanding and amusement. "You can't know how relieved I am that you aren't upset about something."
"No, I do wish I could stay a little longer, but there is an errand only I can attend to and..." She shrugged. How could she reveal to this new bride that she wanted to consult a madwoman who fancied herself in love with the new bridegroom, to try to gain details of the child that would be born of the marriage only two days old?
"You have far heavier burdens than your father could ever guess, I believe."
"That is because his are heavy enough without worrying about me. He will always be my Papa, no matter how old I grow. Oh, but I am glad he has you now. I knew from the moment we first met, you were the completion of his soul, the one who would bring the music to his life."
"Did you?" Glyssani blushed. "I promise, I will do everything I can to make him happy."
"I know you will. I have seen your happiness, and long years together," Meghianna added on a whisper, as she listened to impulse and reached out to enfold her new stepmother in a brief, soft embrace. "I pray to the Estall for both of you every day. Now, go back to your husband and let me go to my duties, and we will both please the Estall."
"Be safe," Glyssani said, catching at Meghianna's hand when she turned to catch up her horse's reins. "Come to see us soon, and often, if you can."
"Not too often. My old nurse warned me about new marriages needing few visitors." Meghianna laughed, delighted that she could make Glyssani blush again, and swung up into her saddle.
She felt the vibrations of that laughter in her chest long after she had left Welcairn castle far behind. She took it as an omen of success in her journey.
* * * *
Wynystrys appeared from the mists that rose from the water at midnight, when the strong moonlight caught in the billowy clouds, nearly enough to blind onlookers with brightness. Meghianna spared a moment, as she waited for the tunnel through the mists to open, to wonder if this was a creation of the island's guardians, or they had taken advantage of the weather conditions.
"Welcome," Deyral said, stepping to the opening of the tunnel. He waved his hands, and a gossamer shimmer appeared in the air, then split apart, fluttering out like curtains to enfold Meghianna. Her horse flicked an ear, but otherwise gave no reaction to the use of magic. The next moment, the silvery mare, Mist's granddaughter, stood on the pebbly shore of the island and nothing but inky darkness and water surrounded them. There could have been sea for a thousand leagues in every direction.
"How far out from shore are we?" Meghianna asked, dismounting.
"Days and years, actually." He chuckled when she cocked an eyebrow of disbelief. "We've been experimenting with the bending and stretching of time. There's a lovely little pocket we've discovered, where everything is entirely calm and no ships come through for nearly six days in a row. We've learned how to return to that spot repeatedly without meeting ourselves. It's rather like riding a gentle eddy in a river bend. It's quite fascinating."
"Isn't it draining? Doesn't it take an enormous amount of magic to maintain the spell?"
"Not once it's established. I think the strain against the cloth of time and matter creates a type of energy that supports itself." He chuckled louder when she shook her head. "My dear, you have to allow us some toys to occupy our minds. This isolation and the freedom to purs
ue magical theories and think deep thoughts all day sounds lovely to those of you living in the everyday world, but believe me, sometimes it can become tedious. We need challenges. Other than creating new magic to utterly destroy the Encindi threat once and for all."
"That was tried before my father was born, and look how that turned out." She let him take the horse's reins and lead her up the slope into the village proper.
"Exactly. Now, I know you're on a another dire errand for Mrillis--"
"For myself, actually."
"But he agrees with your reasons, no doubt." Deyral sighed. "He told us, you know, that he despairs of you ever being totally confident in your wisdom and discretion and strength. The sooner you can act without seeking his and our approval, the more secure you will be in your reign as Queen of Snows."
"My doubts keep me humble and protect me from falling into the trap that devoured my great-grandfather's soul."
"Ah, yes." Deyral's amused expression sobered and he nodded. "I am sorry, my dear, that you live with that threat constantly shadowing your heart."
"Better a small shadow than total darkness. At least seeing a shadow means there is daylight somewhere."
"True. You've turned into a philosopher, I think."
"What philosophical insight can I make from commenting that you're always here whenever I come to the island?" She grinned when his brow wrinkled for a moment at her words. "Don't you have anything better to do than wait for visitors? I can't imagine living here is that entirely boring."
"My dear, it is always the high point of our days--or nights," he added, gesturing up at the clear sky, brilliant with moonlight and stars, "when the Queen of Snows comes to visit. It is only due to your exalted status that the leader of these humble scholars--myself--should greet you, no matter when you appear."
THREE DROPS OF BLOOD Page 23