Shironne sensed the colonel’s urgency.
Dahar reflected irritation at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I would like her to work with Mikael on this. Deborah and I . . .”
Shironne sat up straighter. Who is Mikael? She opened her mouth to ask that.
Agitation swelled out of the prince, though. “Would you be willing to wait outside just for a few minutes, Miss Anjir? I’d like to speak with the colonel privately.”
No, it’s not a good time to ask for an explanation. The colonel wanted her to cooperate. For his sake, she agreed. He hauled her out of the enveloping chair and led her back across the office toward the door. He took her outside, placing her hand on the back of a straight wooden chair.
“Who is Mikael?” she asked him in a whisper.
“I suspect you’ll find out in a few minutes. I’ll try to make this quick,” he promised and then disappeared back behind the door.
• • •
Cerradine hoped this wouldn’t get ugly.
Dahar returned to the windows and stood peering through the small panes at the courtyard. “Does she know?”
“Know what, exactly?”
Dahar turned to glare at him, folding his arms over his chest. “Of her mother’s relationship to my father?”
“Yes, she does,” Cerradine assured him, “although the two younger sisters don’t. I assume since you didn’t know that, Deborah hasn’t had a chance to discuss this with you yet.”
Dahar, rather predictably, grimaced. “Discuss what?”
Being the head of the Daujom, Dahar could force his way in on every Lucas Family elders’ meeting, but he chose not to do so. That was meant to show trust in both their judgment and their commitment to upholding the treaty. Unfortunately, it meant that Dahar often learned things later than he liked. “Shironne’s powers,” Cerradine told him. “The elders know, but I think they decided you weren’t to be told. She’s a touch-sensitive.”
Dahar made a scoffing sound. “Is that even possible?”
He’d expected that reaction. “Yes. You’re likely to see her demonstrate it, soon. When she touches someone, she can get at their actual thoughts, not just their emotions. Even a short time after that person’s death.”
Dahar continued to gaze at him, his lean face, for once, expressionless.
“Deborah thinks that she developed her powers in response to Mikael’s need.”
“Need for what?” Dahar said.
“Someone to listen to him. Deborah thinks that his broadcasting and his . . . new symptoms are all part of an effort to draw in a touch-sensitive to see his dreams. There’s a possibility that she’s bound to him.” Cerradine shook his head. “Until last week, Deborah has advised me not to bring her up here. She’s concerned that Shironne is too young to work with him, among other things, but you know that no one can get to his dreams like a touch-sensitive could.”
“And how long have you known all this?” Dahar snapped. “And what about Deborah?”
“I asked her to come out to observe Shironne working not long after she first came to work for the army. To determine whether she truly is a touch-sensitive.” He wasn’t going to go into Deborah’s reservations about Shironne’s powers. Not now. “It wasn’t until much later that we began to suspect a tie to Mikael. She’s always picked up on his dreams, but when he was sent to Jannsen Province, she still did. No sensitive, no matter how strong, should be able to sense someone that far away. Not without being bound.”
Dahar gazed at him, scowling. Cerradine hadn’t thought Dahar would take that last bit well, particularly not when he had hoped that Mikael would marry Sera eventually. For Mikael to marry Dahar’s daughter when he was bound to someone else would be unkind to all parties involved.
“And no one thought to tell me?” Dahar finally asked.
“Did you ever ask Deborah? No, of course not, because you don’t talk to her.” He sighed. “Yes, she knew Shironne might be bound to Mikael. And yes, Deb knew that Shironne is your niece. The fact that she’s been working for the army has been kept quiet because Savelle didn’t want anyone to know, not while her husband was alive. Anjir’s only interest in his daughters was whether they could make a politically or financially advantageous marriage. Shironne’s unconventional choice of work might reflect poorly on her sister, Perrin. He might have locked Shironne up to keep her from the public eye.”
“Because she was working for the army?”
“Yes,” Cerradine said. “You forget, it’s not accepted among Larossans, Dahar, for someone with powers to refuse the priesthood. Madam Anjir didn’t want anyone to know. Not even you.”
“So why now?”
“I didn’t want you to subpoena her, and . . .”
“Subpoena?” Dahar frowned at the window. “She’s a child. I did think to ask you to bring her. I need to know what she knows, Jon.”
“Let the army work this case, Dahar. My people can handle it more discreetly.”
“We’ve had three deaths now. Exactly how discreet do you intend to be?” Dahar snapped. “I want to know why the police hid the first death. If I have to pull in the police commissioner to discover that, I will. There’s a meeting of the city’s council today, and . . .”
“Don’t, Dahar. It’s not going to tell you anything about the deaths, and Madam Anjir will never forgive you if her daughter is dragged into a court proceeding. Faralis would do that. If you press him based on their testimony, he will drag Shironne and Kassannan into court and call them liars.”
Dahar stewed over that for a moment and then turned away from the window to glare at him. “There’s a bruise on that girl’s face. Who hit her?”
“She tripped, fell, and hit a wall. Easy to do when you’ve no idea where the wall is.”
“Oh, I see.” Dahar stared out over the cobbles of the courtyard. “Is it true that her husband used to beat her?”
That wasn’t a question about Shironne. “Yes.”
“Is that why you broke his hand?”
“You heard about that?” That had been his very first discussion with Anjir. “I wanted to make a point.”
Dahar turned and glared at him. “Why did she go to you for help? Not us?”
He’d known that would be a sticking point for Dahar. “Chance—that’s all. Shironne was trying to find out who’d killed her maid’s lover. He was a sergeant, so they came to my office. That was when I first met your sister.”
“Did Anjir leave her alone after that?”
“Yes. I’ve had a couple of people working in her house since then. They made sure he didn’t bother her.” And all in all, it was probably better that Savelle Anjir hadn’t gone to her brothers for help. Although Dahar no longer took students, he was still a fight master, a fact evidenced by the black chevron trim across the chest of his uniform jacket. He could have killed Anjir with his bare hands and, since he was a member of the Royal House, probably would never have been charged. “So, will you leave this in the army’s hands for now? Let us run the investigation?”
“I had planned to. Keep me informed, and I’ll let Mikael coordinate with Aldassa.” Dahar stopped pacing and perched on the edge of his desk, brow furrowed in concentration. Once he had something to plot over, he usually calmed down. “This meeting with Mikael and Miss Anjir. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”
“Deborah thinks that once he has made a connection, for lack of a better term, with Shironne, he might stop exhibiting the symptoms that worry her so much.”
“Do you know how many times you’ve said Deborah thinks in this conversation?” Dahar snapped. “Do you actually believe she knows what she’s talking about? This is Mikael we’re discussing, not some dusty character out of a history book.”
“What will it hurt, Dahar?” Cerradine asked. “To try?”
• • •<
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After returning from the depths of the fortress, Mikael went back up to his quarters and tied the single white ribbon that marked mourning in the Lucas Family on his sleeve. As he walked back down to the office, he saw that the sentries in the hallways already wore them. It was amazing how quickly news traveled in Above and Below.
He carried his knife with him now, sheath secured to the back of his sash. As upset as the sentries were, they shouldn’t take offense at his going armed within their purview. Fortunately, they still seemed favorably disposed toward him.
As he turned onto the hall that housed the Daujom, he spotted a lone figure sitting on a chair outside the main office like an abandoned pile of laundry. Mikael stared at the Larossan girl, wondering what she could be doing there. The hall held only the offices of the Daujom and shouldn’t attract the presence of a child.
From her size, Mikael judged her to be about thirteen. Her feet swung above the runner. She wore a pink tunic that had seen too much wear, along with orange petticoats of equal age. Her shining brown hair fell in an untidy braid to her waist, tied off with a bright green ribbon. Larossan, certainly, judging by the color of her skin. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry, so not of marriageable age. She must be one of the servants’ daughters, lost in the palace.
“Are you . . . ?” he began.
“No, I’m not lost.” She spoke as if in answer to his unuttered question, sounding irritated. “Also, I can’t help it if my clothes are old, and I’m seventeen.”
Mikael gaped. In his experience, particularly strong sensitives could guess the gist of his thoughts by reading his emotional reactions, but she had answered his internal queries as if she’d heard the words running through his mind.
“I’m told that I’m, um”—she paused, appearing to search for the proper word—“unusual, but you’re loud. Do the others not hear you talking to yourself?”
This has to be the colonel’s sensitive. He’d known she had to be a strong sensitive to pick up his dreams, but this was amazing. She was far younger than he’d expected. No wonder the colonel had been so adamant about his not visiting the army’s offices while she was there. “You hear me talking?”
“Sometimes I hear other people mumbling in their heads. It’s as if everyone else is facing the other direction from me, but you . . . you’re facing me. And I do work for Colonel Cerradine.”
Mikael stared into her pretty brown eyes, trying to place what struck him as odd about her, and then he stepped to one side. Her head turned with the movement, but not far enough. “You’re blind,” he said, fascinated.
“Yes, I am. Most people don’t find that interesting. They feel sorry for me instead.” She folded her gloved hands in her lap, an intrigued expression on her face.
“Should I feel sorry for you?” Mikael asked, unable to help the grin he felt creeping across his face. This was one of the most interesting conversations he’d had in weeks.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said. “I’m Shironne Anjir.” She removed one of her gloves and held out her hand for him to grasp.
Mikael touched his fingers to her palm. He felt the faint ridge of a scar and then her slender fingers curled around his own. Only then did it occur to him that allowing him to touch her wasn’t proper for a Larossan girl of good breeding.
“And you’re the Angel of Death.”
Mikael almost snatched his hand away, but she rattled on. “I don’t mean that badly. I’ve felt your presence before in the bodies. You were with them when they died. Some of them find that comforting, you know.”
Had Iselin felt that? Or only been disgusted with his presence, as always? He crouched down. Miss Anjir’s face followed the sound of his movement, and at that angle, he could see a suspicious bruise on one cheek.
“I thought you were Anvarrid, but you use Lee, don’t you? That sounds right, although I don’t know why.”
“My name is Mikael Lee,” he said aloud.
She shook her head slightly. “People just call you that because it’s simpler than your real name. Mikoletrion?”
There was no possibility she’d heard that before. “No one calls me that,” he admitted. “It’s my Anvarrid name.”
“I wondered if you were part Anvarrid,” she said. “Because you’re loud, I mean.”
“My father was a Vandriyen,” he said. “My mother was a Lee.”
“And Mikael is easier than Mikoletrion? No, that’s not really why you use that name. It’s because you don’t want to seem like an Anvarrid.”
He tilted his head to gaze at her face. “How is that any different?”
“You’re hiding,” she said. “You’re hiding that you’re part of the Van . . . Vandriyen House. It’s not a secret; you just don’t want people to think about it.”
Very few within the Lucas Family knew his actual position in the House of Vandriyen. Deborah knew, of course, and Dahar did. Although he was next in line to become the Master of Lee Province, it was more of a technicality than anything else. But the very mention of his Anvarrid name sent that circling through his head, along with the worries that accompanied the issue, and he suddenly realized she could have picked up every last thought.
She’s a touch-sensitive, he realized with a rising sense of amazement.
That was why she’d offered him her hand. He let her hand go, suddenly aware that he held far too many secrets that she wasn’t supposed to share.
She sighed and started tugging her glove back on. “I know when not to tell people’s secrets, Mr. Lee. Don’t worry.”
“Secrets?”
“Some just shouldn’t be told. Everyone has secrets, even my mother, and she’s the most proper person I know.”
That seemed like a heavy burden. “How do you know? Which ones not to tell, I mean?”
She tilted her head to one side. “I suppose if you can’t do any good by telling it, you shouldn’t.”
A remarkably mature attitude for someone so young.
“I’m seventeen,” she said, scowling. “I’m not a child.”
He fought hard not to think any reply to that. He began counting to force his mind away from the topic but was distracted when she laughed.
“Five?” she said.
“What?”
“You started counting but you got stuck on five and just kept repeating that over and over. Five five five five five.”
He felt his cheeks flushing. “You’re not touching me now. How clearly do you hear me thinking?”
“Like you’re inside my head, even if I’m not touching you. You’re not what I expected either. I used to think you would be wise and ancient, which is probably why Lieutenant Aldassa smirked inside whenever I said so.”
Mikael laughed, unable to help himself. He shouldn’t be laughing on a day when a member of the Lucas Family had died, but he could easily visualize that expression on Aldassa’s face.
The girl smiled ruefully. “I didn’t mean any offense. Sometimes I say things without thinking first.”
“No doubt.” Mikael stood up. “How old were you when you lost your sight?”
“Thirteen,” she said. “It was an accident.”
“Accident?”
“The bruise on my cheek. I fell into a wall.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “And no, I’m not lying to protect anyone. I did fall.”
A member of his yeargroup had lost his sight in an accident when they were twelves. It had taken Samuel Lee a few years to learn to compensate for his blindness. The whole yeargroup had worked to keep things in fixed locations so Samuel wouldn’t trip over random objects. Despite their efforts, odd things would trip him up, even years later. Miss Anjir apparently had learning still to do. Her braid resembled the work of a five-year-old, and her hair ribbon didn’t match her clothes at all.
“I was in a rush this morning,” she said tartly. “I usual
ly take more time, but the colonel came for me unexpectedly.”
Mikael shook his head, thinking goodwill at her. “I didn’t mean to be critical.”
“I was clarifying,” she said. “Not defending myself. I merely wanted to say I’m not usually so haphazard. Not with the braid, I mean. You spend a lot of your time concentrating on being happy, don’t you?”
Startled, Mikael rose. “It’s best for everyone.”
Her head tilted again, turning as if following his movement. “Is it for you?”
No. That was why he liked to go out into the city, why he fled the sensitives—because sometimes he was just too tired to control his mood.
When he didn’t respond aloud, she said, “That seems unfair.”
She rose as well, barely as tall as his shoulder, and he wasn’t tall. No wonder he’d mistaken her for a child. She turned her head as if looking around then. “The other man is coming back, the resentful one.”
Mikael turned to look in the direction she’d indicated. Kai emerged from the stairwell a second later, Elisabet a couple of steps behind him. They came toward the office. “Ah, that would be Kai Lucas.”
“Kai? Is that the prince’s son?” she whispered.
“Yes.” It wasn’t too surprising that she knew his name, given that there was occasional speculation in the newspapers about Kai one day assuming the throne.
“That would make him my cousin,” she said then. “Hmm.”
Of course. Mikael had known that Dahar had a half sister down in the city, but she didn’t want to be acknowledged. Mikael just hadn’t made the connection when Miss Anjir told him her name. He glanced down at the girl’s face; while her coloring was Larossan, her heart-shaped face rather resembled that of Rachel, the elder of Kai’s two sisters. She was definitely prettier than Sera.
The girl flushed. With her dark skin it wasn’t nearly as obvious as his own rather embarrassing blush. He was not supposed to think of a child in those terms.
“I’m seventeen,” she whispered. “I’m not a child.”
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