Outside the door, trumpets blared, announcing the advent of the high queen. Saved by a well-timed fanfare, Lena thought wryly to herself. And she was a fool to have needed saving. Firmly, she stepped away from temptation. “I have to go.”
“Can I come with you?” Rhy asked, uncertain, searching her face.
She laughed, feeling the release of a burden she’d carried for far too long, and seized his hand, pulling him to the door. “Yes. We must hear Her Majesty’s speech.”
“Oh, joy,” he commented, sounding so much more like his usual self that she giggled, heady with relief that they’d finally put the hurt and heartbreak behind them. And he’d been in love with her. It didn’t change anything, but knowing that helped. At least she hadn’t been a total fool.
Lena found them a spot below the balcony where she’d watched the ball earlier with Gendra and Zeph, a good position to see and hear the queens.
“Salena,” Rhy breathed in her ear as he settled his hands on her waist, his body hot against her back. “What if we—”
Another fanfare drowned out his words. “Shh,” she hissed.
Everyone had fallen silent, turning expectant faces upward. A third, longer fanfare echoed, and into the ensuing quiet, a herald called. “All hail the High Queen of the Thirteen Kingdoms, Her Majesty High Queen Ursula.”
The crowd broke into frenzied cheering—except for Rhyian, still pressed against her—so she elbowed him hard in the gut.
“Ow!” he yelped.
“Cheer,” she tossed over her shoulder, glaring at him.
“Whee,” he said, perfectly deadpan. “Ooh. Ah. Look, it’s Danu made flesh.”
She successfully suppressed a laugh, turning her back on him to see Ursula arrive at the balustrade, waving to the people below. A lean blade of a woman, she wore a simple sheath of white-gold, bright as the midday sun—high noon belonging to the goddess Danu—and Salena recalled her mother saying that Queen Amelia had insisted on dressing Ursula and Andi. Ursula wore her deep-auburn hair coiled against her head, topped by the tri-point crown of the Thirteen Kingdoms that paid homage to the three sister goddesses. She smiled, thin as a sword’s edge, her steely gaze that of a warrior queen.
“And Queen Andromeda of Annfwn and Queen Amelia of Avonlidgh,” the herald declared as Ursula’s sisters joined her.
Ami had clearly run with the theme, dressing herself in palest pink to honor Glorianna, goddess of love and beauty. Elaborately beaded with tiny crystals, the dress caught the light, glowing like dawn, though dim compared to Ami’s own radiant beauty. The poets fell out evenly on whether her rose-gold hair, tumbling in glossy curls to her waist, resembled sunset or sunrise, though all agreed her eyes were the violet of twilight—intense enough to be visible at this distance.
On Ursula’s other flank, Queen Andromeda wore a gown of stunning black, though crafted of a shining material that shimmered with silver like the moon. Andi wore her hair loose in the Tala style, a cloak of night that gleamed with bloodred highlights, and her magic shifted around her like an unseen fog.
The three daughters of the old high king had long been likened to the avatars of the sister goddesses, and Salena had never seen the truth of that so clearly before this moment.
“Mother looks quite impressive,” Rhyian whispered in her ear, managing to sound impertinent despite the innocuous words.
“People of the Thirteen Kingdoms,” Ursula called out to silence the cheering crowd, “I have no wish to observe formalities tonight. My sisters and I have gathered here, in our childhood home, together with our families, to celebrate the Feast of Moranu and Her crystalline moon. We welcome you all—regardless of age, wealth or station—to celebrate with us. Danu confers her bright sword to allow us to gather in justice and peace.” She glanced to Ami.
“And Glorianna bestows her unconditional love,” Queen Amelia declared in her angelic voice, “so that we may set aside old hurts and past conflicts, to gather with joy.”
“But tonight belongs to Moranu,” Ursula continued, “so I yield to her avatar, Queen Andromeda of Annfwn.”
This time, Rhyian cheered with real enthusiasm, and Lena thought Andi noticed, picking her son out of the crowd and giving him a grateful smile as she took point position at the front of the balcony. Unlike her sister, she didn’t silence the crowd, but waited in quiet for them to settle. The magic that had been shimmering darkly around her began to expand, flowing outward, the black mist shooting with sparks of light no longer tightly contained, but billowing as it grew.
“Moranu is the goddess of night,” she intoned in a quiet voice, the crowd falling to a hush to better hear. “The goddess of the moon, of mutability, of the intangible and the shadows that shift, waxing and waning, to hide and reveal. She of the many faces embraces all of you tonight, you in all your multitudes, your dark faces and your bright ones. Unlike Danu, Moranu has no interest in the division of lines—She will not judge you. Unlike Glorianna, Moranu doesn’t ask for your beauty—She embraces the darkness in you, the parts you would keep in shadow and hide from the light of day.”
Lena didn’t think she imagined that Andi’s gaze lingered on Rhyian as she said those words, and Lena felt his stillness behind her. As Andi spoke, the room filled with the glittering black mist, the formerly bright light dimming, and it seemed night shadows flowed from the corners, nocturnal creatures softly calling. Looking down, Lena realized a lightless fog had shrouded the floor to knee height, heightening the feel of otherworldliness. It was as if the castle had receded and they’d truly stepped into the mind of Moranu, full of tenebrous mystery.
“We have two hours until the stroke of midnight,” Andi said into the hush. “Until then, we shall keep the fires burning, though night will continue to deepen Her sway. Use this time to reflect on your shadows, to offer the detritus of your soul to the cleansing flame, and set down your intentions, your hopes, and promises for the new year.”
“Didn’t we already do this?” Rhy muttered in her ear, clearly recovered and neatly dodging her elbow this time.
“As midnight draws nigh, we shall gather on the battlements,” Andi continued, smiling as the crowd muttered in dismay. “I promise you will be warm, that you will be sheltered from the cruel winter winds—and that we will see Moranu’s crystalline moon. For now, discard your old hurts and angers. Leave them in the fire, and make your way to the battlements, where we will greet the new year with the light of the crystalline moon.”
“That’s my cue,” Lena told Rhyian, extracting herself from his hands as the crowd broke up into excited murmurs, people streaming toward the scribes’ tables or lining up at the bins with blank scrolls.
“Wait,” he said, clever hands simply finding a new purchase on her waist as she turned. “Where are you going?” In the magical dimness, Rhyian’s eyes seemed to catch the sparks of light, like distant stars glittering in a midnight sky. Shadows clung lovingly to the gorgeous planes of his face, his black hair falling loosely around it, reminding her of how he’d looked after kissing her senseless, when he’d been naked against her, skin to skin and—
“I have a job to do.” And focusing on that job would help her to remember that making up with Rhyian didn’t—and shouldn’t—mean anything more.
“At a party? I thought we were taking tonight to enjoy. Please, let me try to do better.”
Softening—truly unable to resist him when he spoke honestly—she caressed his cheek, catching her breath when he turned his face to brush his mouth over her fingertips. “I mean I really can’t, Rhy,” she breathed. “I have to go clear the sky and make it warm.”
He stared at her, arrested. “You can do that?”
She found herself grinning, delighted by his astonished admiration. “I can. Unlike some people, I have been practicing my skills.”
Rhy clapped a hand over his heart, gasping as if mortally wounded. “So unkind, fair Salena.”
She shook her head at his histrionics and untangled herself from his hands onc
e again. “I will see you later, after my work is done.”
“Can I come with you?” he asked, striding beside her as she wended her way through the crowd.
Giving him a sidelong look, she raised a brow. “It will be cold up there, summer boy.”
“But I have a weather witch to keep me warm,” he replied, making her laugh. “Also a cloak, if we can stop to grab it.”
“All right, then.” Her smile so wide it threatened to crack her cheeks. She treasured the headiness of his company. And maybe the opportunity to show off for him a little. “Come see this.”
~ 9 ~
While a footman retrieved their cold-weather gear, Rhy seized the opportunity to snag a carafe of Jak’s mjed and a couple of glasses. You were so romantic you made my head spin, Salena had said, reminding him of how it had been back then, when making her smile was everything. “In case you’re not quite enough to keep me warm,” he teased when she raised a questioning brow.
The footman led them up the grand stairs to the next level, then through various corridors lit with more white candles in silver candelabras and decorated with more crystal-studded moonflower garlands. The decorations highlighted various paths to the battlements for the guests, but the footman soon diverged, taking them up a more practically lit back staircase.
“This is where Her Majesty has designated for the showing, Your Highnesses,” the young man said with a bow, opening a door to an icy blast of wind and a group of guards huddled around a brazier. “It’s the most-sheltered spot.”
“I’d hate to experience the less-sheltered spots,” Rhy complained, pulling his black fur cloak tighter around himself.
“You don’t have to stay,” Salena replied with a droll look. “I’m sure you can think up more regrets to offer the fires.”
“You have no idea,” he muttered. “But I’m not missing this.”
“Welcome to the Castle Ordnung battlements, Princess Salena Nakoa KauPo.” Prince Harlan, the high queen’s husband, strode up to them in full dress regalia and saluted.
With a squeal, Salena launched herself at the big Dasnarian, giving him a hug.
“Nephew Rhyian, it’s a pleasure, as always.”
Rhy clasped forearms with his uncle, who he’d always liked. Harlan was one of the few who never nagged him about making something of himself. Also a former imperial prince who’d renounced his hated title, Harlan never forgot that Rhy hated being called “prince” himself. “I wondered where you were, Uncle Harlan.”
“I’ve been up here most of the evening,” Harlan replied. “Essla can handle the crowd inside, and I feel better keeping an eye on the battlements with so many personages gathered here tonight.”
“Surely you don’t expect trouble?” Rhy asked.
“It never pays to be complacent, Rhy. We’ve had peace, yes, but there’s always trouble brewing in the world. That’s the nature of trouble, and of the world we live in. There will be time enough after midnight, with everyone safely tucked back inside, to dance with my lovely wife.” He winked at them. “What do you need from us, Lena?”
“I simply need to see the sky.”
“Of course, though it’s bitter cold out there with this storm.”
“Not for long,” she promised.
He grinned. “I’m looking forward to seeing this. I’ll accompany you, for your safety. Unless you need to be alone?”
“Not at all,” Lena assured him, to his obvious relief.
Harlan led the way, and Rhy followed them out of the guard hut into the truly bitter blizzard.
“This will work,” Salena said, pausing in a semi-sheltered corner where a square tower cut the wind somewhat. Down below, the township of Ordnung blazed with light, distant music wafting in occasional bursts with the blustery wind. The sky roiled overhead, the overcast thicker than ever.
Harlan paced a short distance away and turned his back on them, gaze focused outward. Salena raised her hands, palms upward, her magic gathering palpably around them as she sent it toward the sky. She’d never looked more beautiful to Rhy than in that moment. With her hands raised to the black and storming sky, the bitter wind whipping her hair like a banner of gleaming bronze, she tipped her head back, magic lighting her from within.
“Can I ask you questions?” Rhy asked quietly, leaning against the wall where he could watch her. “Or do you need to concentrate?”
She slid him a look. “If I did, you’d have already broken that concentration.”
“Sorry.” He should know better. Moranu knew it took all of his concentration to shapeshift into anything but his raven First Form.
Salena made a choking sound. “Did the determinedly unapologetic Rhyian actually apologize again—or am I dreaming?”
“Ha-ha,” he huffed. “I’ve apologized to people before.”
“You have changed,” she replied in a voice heavy with sarcasm.
He was glad it seemed that way, but he wondered if he really had. She embraces the darkness in you, the parts you would keep in shadow and hide from the light of day. Had his mother directed those words at him? It had been a relief to finally talk about what happened with Salena, but he knew the confession hadn’t absolved him. Probably nothing could.
“You can talk to me,” Salena said after a few moments. “This isn’t all that difficult.”
“Dispersing a storm is easy, really?” He pounced on the offered topic with enthusiasm, not only because it drew him out of his dark thoughts, but because he was fascinated. She fascinated him—as always and more than ever.
“Really,” she said, casting him a smile. She loved doing this, he realized, sheer joy in her proficiency lighting her up as nothing that evening so far had done. “Part of it is that I’m not actually dispersing the storm. I’m simply sending the greatest intensity to other parts of the storm, and it’s a large one covering a wide area, so there’s lots of room to absorb a small amount over just this area. As I move the moisture and cloud cover away, I’m warming the air, which is again pretty straightforward because I only need to invert the extreme cold.” She glanced at him again. “This is really boring, right?”
“Not even a little,” he replied sincerely, utterly enchanted by her. The wind had already dropped, and he felt certain the air around them had warmed. The sky might be brighter, too.
She smiled at that, the way she used to smile at him, full of love he hadn’t deserved. It warmed his lonely heart—and chilled him to the bone. They’d finally had it out between them, but he didn’t expect that she would love him again. She couldn’t. If she did… Sudden terror filled him that he’d only break that love into pieces again.
“Also,” she continued, oblivious to his angst, “I’m only creating a change of a couple of hours. It’s not like my work in Aerron, where I’m having to fight entrenched weather patterns to reverse the encroachment of the desert and bring life to the region again. There I’m having to work with all kinds of atmospheric energy to gradually move in moisture and create conditions where rain can form. There’s a lot of intricate manipulations involved that have to be handled with precision and delicacy, or it all goes out of whack—and the cascading backlash can be vicious. Compared to that, this is child’s play. Have your eyes glazed over yet?”
Only blinded by her. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice full of unabashed wonder.
She looked up at the sky, maybe blushing, though it was difficult to tell. “You should maybe come visit me in Aerron sometime,” she offered hesitantly. “The changes are what’s amazing. They’re really something to see.”
“I would like that,” he said, an odd pain in his chest. Was that hope or fear? Either way, a world in which he simply visited Salena in Aerron like she was just another friend seemed impossible.
“I’ve learned a lot from that work,” she said reflectively. “Studying with Andi taught me so much, but there’s nothing like actually doing the thing, day in and day out, to make you learn it, to force you to grow in your abilities.”
“Is that why your father isn’t doing this?” he asked. “You’re better than he is now.”
She glanced at him, eyes wide. It was definitely brighter out. “Nooo… I am not better than Muku by a long shot. But I am different. He brings storms—over incredible distances and with such astonishing power to them, I think I’ll never match his prowess—and he can sustain them. When he stalled the Dasnarian navy during the Deyrr War, he summoned that storm from Annfwn and held it there, at full power, for five days, with an eye of calm for our ships.”
“I’ve heard the story,” Rhy commented drily. Countless times. Their parents loved to tell the tales of their heroism in the glory days. Talk about something that could be burnt in the fire and consigned to the past. He was almost too warm now in his heavy cloak, and shrugged it open to hang down his back.
“I don’t know how he did it.” Salena shook her head, moonlight rippling over the long fall of her hair, no longer blowing in any wind. Above them, the pennants lay limp against their tethers, and silvering clouds scudded across a black sky, fleeing in all directions as if banished. She lowered her arms, studying the sky. “It will take a bit more to clear,” she said, more to herself than to anyone, Rhy thought, “but that will do it. Harlan?”
“Yes, Princess?” Harlan rejoined them, saying Salena’s title like an affectionate nickname. Like Rhy, he’d shrugged back his heavy cloak. Smiling broadly, he gestured at the limp pennants. “It’s like a miracle.”
Salena smiled with genuine pleasure. “You can tell Her Majesty that we are on schedule. I’ll keep the clouds over the moon until midnight and the relighting.”
Under a Winter Sky Page 15