The Misted Cliffs

by Catherine Asaro

  “Why does Mother fear you?” Cobalt said.

  “She poisons your mind against me.”

  “She says nothing of you.”

  Some tension eased from Varqelle’s stance. “As is right.”

  “Maybe you didn’t beat her like Stonebreaker, but you hurt her.” Cobalt couldn’t stop. “And you did other things. At night.”

  Varqelle’s voice turned chill. “I will not discuss this with my son.”

  Why? You are what I have to emulate. Cobalt had thirsted his entire life for his grandfather’s approval, but he had never wanted to become like Stonebreaker. With Varqelle, he lost his moorings. He and his father were so alike. He saw much to admire in Varqelle but also much that angered him. No easy answers were here.

  Moonlight silvered the planes of Varqelle’s face. “Know this, Cobalt. Power burns within you. If Stonebreaker was cruel, if he tried to break your spirit, he succeeded only in forging you into a greater man. History will record your campaigns, my son. You will be remembered as the greatest general ever known.”

  Cobalt stared at him. With Varqelle he could go from anger to stunned disbelief in a matter of moments. No one had ever spoken of him with such pride. That Varqelle would do so swept away Cobalt’s simmering rage and filled him with a longing he could barely define. He knew only that he never wanted to lose his father’s esteem.

  “I will be remembered as your son,” Cobalt said.

  Varqelle inclined his head, accepting the offered respect. But then his gaze darkened. “Do not let a woman ruin what you can become. Allow her to weaken your will and she will destroy you.”

  Destroy? No. Perhaps Varqelle would call his driving need for Mel a weakness, but she made Cobalt feel invincible. Nothing could stop him. Knowing his father saw so much within him changed everything. They would join forces, he and Varqelle. It might be an alliance made in hell, but it would have no equal.

  The king of the Misted Cliffs arrived late in the day, as shadows stretched across the land. He brought several hundred soldiers and they poured into the courtyard. Grooms, stable boys, and the castle staff ran to accommodate them.

  Mel stood on a balcony in the Storm Tower and watched the commotion. Cobalt already had over fifty men here. With the cavalry Stonebreaker was bringing, their numbers swelled to more than four hundred. Everywhere she looked, warriors dismounted, called, strode, and gathered. They would lodge in towers, in tents set up in the courtyard, and in the open areas outside the wall. Stonebreaker actually had thousands of men, and rumors floating about the castle said the rest of them were assembling at the base of the cliffs, down in the borderlands. The Chamberlight king hadn’t brought a retinue. He had come with his damn army.

  He expects to fight. The thought haunted Mel. No one would mount an operation this large just to meet his grandson’s bride. Stonebreaker might say he intended to show honor, but Mel didn’t believe it. This was either an unsubtle threat or the prelude to an invasion. Or both.

  Leather creaked behind Mel. She turned to see Varqelle silhouetted in the archway. She bowed to him. “Good evening, Your Majesty.”

  A chuckle came from the silhouette. “I’m hardly majestic, even at the top of a tower.”

  “Matthew?” Mel winced. “My apologies. I thought you were Varqelle.” Now that she looked more closely, the difference was obvious. Matthew had a similar height, but kinder features and a huskier build. His hair was completely gray.

  He came onto the balcony. “I’m sorry to disturb you. But I must prepare for King Stonebreaker’s arrival.”

  “I will go. I should be downstairs anyway.” She would have preferred to stay away, but she couldn’t hide from Stonebreaker forever. Sooner or later she had to face him.

  The Storm Tower contained many rooms, including the suite at the top where Stonebreaker stayed. Clerks worked in the mid level on the day-to-day business of the castle. Other floors had halls where Cobalt or Stonebreaker could meet with the staff that ran the castle. The chef and his staff had a huge kitchen below the ground level.

  Mel descended to the bottom floor and stood in the shadows of an archway that opened onto the courtyard. In the hubbub outside, no one acknowledged her. The few people who glanced her way quickly averted their gazes. Their behavior didn’t surprise her. She didn’t even know the names of the soldiers quartered here. They kept apart, never speaking to her, especially as rumors of her magecraft spread. People made discreet snapping gestures with their hands when she walked by, signs to protect themselves against whatever evils they imagined within her. At home, her family and friends would have rejoiced to see her power growing, but here people avoided her as if she carried a plague.

  She spotted Varqelle outside talking to several officers. Neither Cobalt nor Stonebreaker was anywhere in view. She had never met the Chamberlight king, but she had seen portraits here of him. Cobalt might have already escorted him to a place of welcome. Given his antipathy toward his grandfather, though, she questioned if Cobalt would even come down to the courtyard. His sense of duty was strong, however, and she thought his enmity for the king masked his desire for Stonebreaker’s good opinion.

  “He has many men,” a woman said.

  Mel almost jumped. Looking across the archway, she saw Dancer standing in the shadows. Mel had expected her mother-in-law to denounce her as a witch after what happened in the tower, but Dancer had remained silent these past few days, watching, judging, appraising. Although Mel wasn’t certain what to make of it, she could see that Dancer genuinely loved Cobalt. The mother was evaluating her son’s wife.

  Mel spoke carefully. “I’ve heard over five thousand more of his men are gathering down in the borderlands.”

  “These are for show,” Dancer said. “An exhibition of Chamberlight strength. For you.” Dryly she added, “My father has never been a subtle man.”

  A dark figure formed in the shadows behind the queen—and resolved into Cobalt. He came up beside his mother. “It is time to greet him.” His words had a hollow sound.

  “Where is he?” Mel asked.

  “With the last wave of men,” Cobalt said. “The sentries spotted him.”

  Mel couldn’t read him now. He was like a shuttered window. He and Dancer stood side by side as if they gained strength from each other against a threat.

  “Why would he come last?” Mel asked.

  Dancer folded her arms as if she were cold. “For a better entrance.”

  Cobalt laid his palm on his mother’s arm, an unmistakable offer of protection. “Come. We will meet him at the gate.”

  “Very well.” She caught her lower lip with her teeth.

  Cobalt turned his stark gaze on Mel. “You can wait here. If you wish.”

  Mel felt as if cool fingers walked across her shoulders. Of course she should greet the king. But watching them, she wanted to retreat to Cobalt’s suite until Stonebreaker left. No matter how she felt, though, it would be wrong to hide.

  “I will go with you,” she said.

  Dancer gave her an odd look. If Mel hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was approval. Cobalt inclined his head to Mel, and she caught the flicker of fear in his gaze. Never before had she seen that emotion from him, and she had questioned whether he was capable of it. Even now, he masked it well. But she had come to read him better these past few days. He feared his grandfather.

  Dancer arranged the silk folds of her tunic as if they were armor. Then she stepped out into the slanting rays of the late afternoon. One of the arrivals, a warrior in Chamberlight armor and chain mail, glanced at her. He did a double take, then knelt before her and bowed his head.

  “Please rise,” she said. Behind her, Cobalt was stepping out of the tower.

  As the man stood, Cobalt joined his mother. The soldier blanched and went down on one knee again, with a sharper drop of his head. Nor was he the only one. Several others had seen them as well. All of Stonebreaker’s men who could see Dancer and Cobalt knelt. Their expression of fealty spread l
ike a wave across the narrow strip of courtyard that curved around the base of the Storm Tower. Everywhere, they knelt in honor of the Chamberlight heirs.

  Cobalt spoke, a short phrase Mel didn’t catch, and the men closest to him rose to their feet. The rest followed suit, and the wave spread in reverse now as the men stood. Cobalt turned and extended his hand to Mel. Taking a deep breath, she went to stand with him and Dancer. The soldiers watched with no welcome in their gazes. A bead of sweat ran down her temple. Had she not been with Dancer and Cobalt, she wasn’t certain she would have made it through this crowd without incident.

  They walked across the odd, curving courtyard toward the main gate. Men on horses continued to ride through it, and others walked inside, leading chargers or pack animals loaded with feed. The men followed a custom she had never seen back home, bowing to Dancer and Cobalt from horseback. Dancer inclined her head, but Cobalt showed no trace of a response. His face was like carved stone.

  A formation of six horses around a seventh appeared. Mel’s breath caught. The Chamberlight king sat astride the central mount, his head raised high. Stonebreaker. Cobalt resembled him even more than he did Varqelle. They both had the same broad-shouldered, long-legged build, the same pride in their carriage, the same powerful physique. But Cobalt was more. He had even more height, greater musculature, stronger features. He and Stonebreaker were two powerhouses, but the heir surpassed the sovereign.

  Next to Cobalt, Stonebreaker would always seem second, even though in authority and status he was first. Mel recalled Brant Firestoke’s comment, that Stonebreaker was jealous of his grandson. Although she could see why, she would have expected the king to be proud rather than resentful. What better indication of his ascendancy than to see it reflected in such an exceptional heir? The more she learned about the Chamberlight dynasty, the more uncomfortable they made her.

  Stonebreaker and his personal honor guard entered the courtyard at a regal pace. The king wore the leather and metal armor and chain mail, with a massive sword at his hip. The wind blew back his silvered hair, and he held a helmet under one arm.

  Mel spoke in a low voice. “He is impressive.”

  Neither Cobalt nor Dancer answered.

  Mel wasn’t certain of protocols. Although her parents tended to avoid ceremony, the royal court in Aronsdale was formal. She knew the expected behavior there, but she was less certain here. She had read what she could find about the Misted Cliffs and the Chamberlight dynasty after she accepted Cobalt’s proposal. Most of it applied specifically to the court at the Diamond Palace; she recalled nothing about greeting the king in a lovely but strange citadel on top of a cliff. It was probably best to follow Cobalt and Dancer, or deal as she would in the Diamond Palace. If she felt uncertain, she could fall back on the customs at Castle Suncroft. Different countries had different ways, but Aronsdale, Harsdown, and the Misted Cliffs weren’t that dissimilar.

  The king reined in his horse and surveyed the yard. When he settled his gaze on Dancer and Cobalt, they each bowed to him. Mel followed suit, copying their motions. Stonebreaker inclined his head much in the way they had done with the riders who bowed to them. High up on his stallion, with his armor and helmet glittering, he seemed the epitome of majestic splendor.

  As the king dismounted, Cobalt walked over to him. Mel hung back with Dancer. The two men greeted each other and stood together, surrounded by the bustle and flow of soldiers, guards, and servants like columns of rock in a turbulent river. Dressed in black, Cobalt seemed shadowed compared to Stonebreaker. Mel wondered if he deliberately played down his own qualities in his grandfather’s presence. If Stonebreaker did envy him, such an approach would be a way to appease the king’s displeasure.

  Stonebreaker and Cobalt seemed respectful of each other. It took her a moment to pinpoint what was missing; neither man showed any sign he was glad to see the other. In her family, they would have been hugging, talking, laughing. She had seen the reserve in how Cobalt and his mother interacted, but this coldness went beyond that.

  Mel touched the pendant around her neck. She concentrated on a spell. Her power did respond today, but it stirred only weakly. She couldn’t control the green light that formed around her hand. Dancer glanced at her sharply, and Mel lowered her arm, letting the spell go. She didn’t want the Chamberlight king to think she was trying to curse him or some such nonsense. Nor was she certain she wanted to know more; her brief spell had been enough to reveal the darkness Cobalt felt toward his grandfather.

  Stonebreaker and Cobalt came toward them, but the men in the Chamberlight honor guard stayed back. The king looked Mel over without a smile, then turned away as if she were of no consequence. He stopped in front of Dancer and nodded. “You look well today, my dear.”

  Dancer returned his nod with formal, icy perfection. “Thank you, Father.”

  Cobalt drew Mel forward. “Grandfather, may I present my wife, Melody Dawnfield Escar.”

  Mel bowed to the king with one hand holding the silk layers of her tunic, the greeting of an heir to a sovereign of higher rank among her people, and among Cobalt’s as well, from what she had read. When she straightened, Stonebreaker was looking the other way, at the men setting up tents in the courtyard. He spoke to Cobalt. “We won’t be able to lodge everyone here.”

  A muscle twitched in Cobalt’s cheek, and for a moment Mel thought he would speak in anger. She tried to catch his eye, to tell him the slight didn’t matter, but he wouldn’t look at her.

  “You have brought many men,” Cobalt said. The rebuke too many remained implicit.

  “If you are unable to deal with them,” Stonebreaker said, “I can take care of the matter.”

  Cobalt stiffened. “I regret that your advisers were unable to plan ahead of time.”

  Mel stared at him. He had practically suggested the king’s advisers were incompetent.

  “Ah, well,” Stonebreaker said, as if making allowances for his grandson’s ineptitude. “I am sure you did your best.”

  Cobalt’s fist clenched at his side.

  Dancer spoke quickly. “We have a feast planned tonight, Father, to honor you.”

  “I imagine so.” The king finally turned to Mel. “Perhaps you will fetch everyone drink to slake our thirst. We have traveled a long way.”

  Mel had no idea how to respond, especially after his bizarre exchange with Cobalt. She wasn’t a servant. Even if that had been the case, what did he expect, that she would provide wine for the hundreds of men arriving here?

  Cobalt spoke. “We have refreshment inside.” He sounded as if he were gritting his teeth.

  “That will have to do.” Stonebreaker offered his arm to Dancer. “Come, Daughter. I should like to catch up on news.”

  Dancer answered stiffly. “Of course.” She set her palm on his arm and they started for the Storm Tower.

  Mel looked up at Cobalt, at a loss for how to respond to all this. His gaze had darkened. He presented his arm and she set her palm on it the way Dancer had done with Stonebreaker. They followed the king and his daughter, and Mel was aware of Stonebreaker’s guards coming behind them. She vowed she would learn their names, rank, even their favorite food, anything to make them people rather than more unnamed soldiers.

  Inside the Storm Tower, a large hall took up the entire bottom floor. Youths from the kitchen staff were setting platters of food on a large table in the center. Ice sculptures graced the table, one carved to resemble the Diamond Palace and the other like the Castle of Clouds. Servers were escorting guests into the hall, highly ranked officers from among the men Stonebreaker had brought and in the company already quartered here.

  Varqelle entered through another archway, accompanied by Cobalt’s honor guard. They escorted him through the bustle of soldiers and servers, and everyone they passed stepped aside, bowing to the Escar king.

  When they reached Stonebreaker, Varqelle inclined his head to the Chamberlight king, one sovereign to another. “You honor us with your visit, Your Majesty.” The rigi
d set of his shoulders belied the courtesy of his greeting.

  Stonebreaker returned the nod. “You look well. I hope my home agrees with you.”

  The Escar king answered with stiff formality. “It does you honor.” The courteous words didn’t hide his discomfort with the man who had kept him from his wife for thirty-three years.

  Varqelle glanced at Cobalt and his face relaxed into a smile. “My greetings, son.”

  Cobalt bowed deeply, showing a son’s respect for his father. He could have bowed that way to his grandfather, too, had he so chosen. Varqelle clapped him on the shoulder, and incredibly, Cobalt smiled. Mel realized it was the first time anyone had greeted her husband with good wishes today. Stonebreaker’s men had knelt to him, yes, but out of duty, not because they were happy to see him. It was no wonder Cobalt had taken to his father; Varqelle might be evil in her eyes, but he was the only one here aside from Dancer who treated Cobalt like a human being.

  When Varqelle turned to Mel, his expression hardened. She met his gaze, knowing hers held just as much distrust. He would use Cobalt to gain his ends, and Cobalt would do whatever his father wanted, because Varqelle gave him the acceptance that the rest of the world had denied him his entire life. Stonebreaker was a fool if he had let envy poison his relationship with his grandson. He might covet Cobalt’s power, but in trying to destroy his grandson’s spirit, he would only turn that power against himself and his reign.

  The royal party went to a dais at one end of the hall where a smaller table stood, long and narrow. Stonebreaker led the way, flanked by two men in his honor guard. Varqelle and Dancer came next, followed by Mel and Cobalt. It was the first time Mel had seen Cobalt’s parents walking side by side. Neither looked at the other. Varqelle didn’t offer his arm for Dancer’s hand and Dancer made no attempt to take his elbow.