FORBIDDEN TALENTS

by Frankie Robertson

  She stared off into the deepening twilight. This was what her vision had foretold, but she’d been too blind to understand. Now she would be Outcast, and Ragni would hate her for betraying his love.

  Ragni. The thought of him twisted like a sharp stone in her chest. Was he even now wondering where she was? Or did he already know about her? Had Lord Dahleven revealed their secret? Had her discoverer denounced her to him? Did he rage at her deceit?

  *

  Dahleven knocked at Celia’s door a second time. Not surprisingly, there was still no answer. Where is she? He blew out a long breath between pursed lips and turned to go to his own rooms. No sense in loitering in the hall. Then he turned back. He could go in and wait for her. He had the right; she was his betrothed. But Celia likes her privacy. He stood for a moment in front of her door, debating. The image of a crazed stag snorting and stamping in season rose in his mind, making him wince.

  Enough. He put his hand to the door.

  “I’m not there,” Celia called from the end of the hall. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Dahleven turned, his hand still on the latch. She wore a finely embroidered white chemise under a dark red overdress that was particularly becoming to her fair coloring. His body responded instantly. Gods, I’ve been gone too long. Old-style shoulder brooches fastened her dress, and he thought he recognized Sevond’s handiwork in the jewelry. She hardly needed the beauty-enhancing effect of Sevond’s Talent. “Where were you?”

  Her chin lifted; eyebrows rose over her twilight eyes. “Excuse me?”

  He made his tone more conciliatory. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Celia continued down the hall until she stood next to him. “I want to talk to you, too.” She gestured at her door. “May I go in?”

  Dahleven unlatched the door and strode into the room ahead of her, then checked his momentum suddenly. Something, a shadow seen from the corner of his eye, had dashed across the room, disappearing under the bed. He felt Celia’s hand brace on his back as he stopped short, blocking her entrance.

  “Hey!”

  “Are you keeping a cat?”

  “No.” Celia’s tone changed from irritated to cautious curiosity. “Why? Did you see something?”

  Instead of answering, Dahleven stepped forward and bent to peer under the bed. Nothing. “Did you see it, too?”

  She followed him, shaking her head slowly. “No. Not this time. But I’ve seen it before. At least I think I’ve seen it. Or almost seen it. What is it?”

  Dahleven rose and shut the door. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it either.”

  Celia just looked at him as a smile crept over her face, curling her lips. Then a giggle escaped.

  Dahleven grinned, then laughed outright.

  When their laughter bubbled off, he pulled her to him and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ve missed you.”

  Celia’s arms encircled his waist. “I’ve missed you, too.” Then she pulled back. “But what was that? Where did it go?”

  The wonderful feeling of her body pressed against his distracted him. “I don’t know. It’s probably just a cat. Nothing to worry about.”

  Irritation flashed in her eyes again, turning them gold as she pushed him away. “Don’t patronize me! Have you seen things like this before?”

  Dahleven nodded. I should have known she wouldn’t let this go. He shrugged in resignation. Her courage and determination were two of the many reasons he loved her, after all. “In the last few weeks it’s happened several times. This is the first time I thought it was a cat, though. Usually I catch myself looking up, thinking a bird has just flitted by or landed on a branch behind me.”

  “Does this have something to do with what the Elves did to us?”

  Again, he nodded. “That would be my guess. I think their minions are watching us.”

  “Minions?”

  “The Fey are more than one race. Some are greater, some are lesser.”

  Celia cast a distressed glance around the room. “Why would they be watching us? What do they want?”

  Dahleven stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “Who knows? The Elves keep their own counsel. But I don’t doubt they have long had spies in every keep in the land, just as we do. We can just see them now, where before we could not.”

  “Almost. See them, that is.” Half a smile twisted her lips.

  “And there lies the trouble. We must guard against our inclination to startle at what we don’t quite see, and what others cannot see at all. If we’re not careful, we’ll be whispered about. Rumors of that sort are seldom kind and always reach unfriendly ears.”

  Celia turned worried eyes up to his. “Fine, I can do that. But what about these minions? I don’t like the idea of them spying on me, even if the Elves did help us before.”

  “Nor do I.” Dahleven decided not to remind Celia that the Elvish servants spying on them could be of the Dark variety. He gritted his teeth, biting down on his frustration. He had no practical solution, no way of shielding her. “Do you want to move into my rooms?”

  Unexpectedly, Celia grinned up at him. “Are you sure you didn’t plan this?” Then she sobered. “No. Whatever they are, they’re probably in your rooms, too.” She moved closer and Dahleven automatically put his arms around her. “But I wouldn’t mind if you stayed here tonight.”

  *

  Ragni’s emotions, tightly controlled in Wirmund’s presence, churned as he left the rooms. He walked unseeing down the long corridor, blinded by a blizzard of thoughts. Servants stepped quickly out of his way as he strode away from the Overprest’s private apartments, his boot heels striking sharp reports on the stone floor. How could Saeun have been so careless? So misguided? What drove her to to be so foolish?

  Why didn’t she tell me? He could have protected her. He would have put a stop to her foolishness before this disaster struck.

  Why hadn’t she trusted him? That cut deepest of all.

  Who had led her astray? The Daughters of Freya, no doubt. Oh, a few of them were all right, Thora for one, but some of those malcontents would allow, even encourage, any depth of apostasy to further their aims.

  Where is she? He wanted to confront Saeun, to get some answers. He wanted to warn her, but she was surely watched, just as he probably was. And Kaidlin must be told, and the Kon.

  Gods, Father! Ragni didn’t look forward to that conversation.

  Was this what Dahl wanted to tell me? How could he have known and done nothing? How could he have given me no warning?

  Ragni’s hands clenched. It was late. Little time remained before the family would gather to feast with the Tewakwe, but there was time enough. He would make time. Before he talked with Kaidlin and Father, Dahl would explain himself.

  He didn’t even bother going to his brother’s rooms. He knew Dahl would be with Celia.

  *

  A loud, rapping on the door made Celia jump despite the comfort of nestling against Dahleven’s chest. She felt his arms tighten around her at the urgent sound. Now what?

  Dahleven pitched his words to carry through the door. “Go away.”

  “I will not!” Ragni’s voice sounded more commanding than Celia had ever heard it. “Open this door!”

  Dahleven stiffened.

  He’s not used to that tone, not from Ragni. Not from anyone. “Ragni sounds upset,” she said.

  Dahleven stepped away from her, striding toward the door.

  “Wait!” Celia commanded.

  Dahleven jerked to a stop as though he’d come to the end of a tether. His lips were tight and his brows lowered over the anger storming in his twilight eyes. She almost thought she saw flashes of lightening in the glowing gray. She didn’t quail; she’d faced his anger before.

  Celia stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. “These are my rooms. I will greet my caller.” She put on her best smile and opened the door. “Ragni! Please come in.”

  Ragni nodded a stiff bow to her, then strode into the room, every movement rigid with
anger. He stopped in front of his brother. A shade shorter, and not quite as broad in the shoulders as Dahleven, Ragni was still a powerful man, impressive in his all-gray priest’s garb. His words were controlled and clenched, like the fists he held rigidly at his sides. “You had best explain yourself. All of it.”

  “Who in Niflheim do you think you are, barging into Celia’s rooms?”

  Celia quickly shut the heavy door, keeping the brothers’ voices from echoing down the hall.

  “Now!” Ragni demanded.

  Dahleven bit out his words. “This is not the place or time.”

  “What is this about?” Celia asked sharply. Neither man looked at her. She gripped Dahleven’s arm tightly. “What are you hiding from me?”

  “This doesn’t concern you,” he said tightly.

  “No?” Celia raised her eyebrows, her own anger sparking. If he thought he’d get away with that kind of high-handed dismissal, he had a surprise coming.

  Ragni laughed shortly. Celia didn’t like the sound of it. “This will soon concern the whole family, big brother. How long did you think you could keep this secret?”

  Dahleven suddenly looked more surprised than angry. “You know?”

  “Wirmund told me.”

  “Wirmund!” The color drained from Dahleven’s face. “Baldur’s Balls! How did he find out?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Stupid question.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Ragni demanded.

  “That should be obvious! You’re sworn to Baldur! I didn’t know what field you were plowing. The girl did me a service. I could hardly in honor betray her, and myself as well.”

  “What?” Ragni’s brows drew together.

  “Betray who?” Celia asked.

  “Sorry, brother.” Dahleven laughed sourly. “The Jarldom will be yours now, whether you want it or not,” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Utta’s getting better than her father bargained for.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ragni almost shouted.

  Dahleven, nonplused, just stared at Ragni.

  “Someone had better start explaining,” Celia said.

  Ragni’s eyes widened in comprehension. “You asked Saeun to use unsanctioned magic? You?” Ragni rubbed a hand over his mouth and close cropped beard. “Why? What could possibly have driven you—” He glanced at Celia. Understanding dawned, softening his expression. “Ah. Of course. That’s how you found her. I knew you were keeping something more than the Elves’ involvement from Father, but unsanctioned magic? You don’t even trust the rune-stones.”

  “I’m glad you understand.” Celia glared up at Ragni, hands on hips. “Would you like to let me in on the joke?”

  “You said Wirmund told you all of this,” Dahleven complained.

  “No, no. He only found Saeun’s ritual tools. He warned me so that Kaidlin and the family could distance ourselves from her before her arrest. He doesn’t know about your involvement with her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’re still the heir, Dahl, and likely to stay so if we can keep Wirmund from finding Saeun.” He drew a hand over his eyes. “What am I saying? She used unsanctioned magic!”

  Celia bit her lip, aching for Ragni. Lover. Family. Faith. How could he choose between them?

  Gudrun’s lessons had been thorough. She’d arranged for Sangor and Wirmund himself to instruct Celia in history and religion. The history of Nuvinland’s rift with Nuheimjord was entwined with the rise of the church of Baldur and the condemnation of unsanctioned magic. Jorund’s treason had inspired Wirmund to root out religious rebellion, and he pursued that purpose with a passion. If the Overprest knew that Saeun had practiced Odin’s Forbidden Art, she was screwed.

  Celia didn’t know much about the young woman except that she was quiet and pleasant—and a Daughter of Freya. Most of the Daughters only wanted equal protection under the law, but they weren’t well tolerated and most of those women kept their affiliation hidden. Celia had kept Saeun’s association with the Daughters secret even when Kaidlin had confided her delighted suspicion that Saeun and Ragni were lovers. Had that been a mistake? And that wasn’t the only question, or the only secret, nagging at her. “What does he mean, that’s how you found me?” she asked Dahleven. “You said a Tracker followed us from Jorund’s camp.”

  Ragni shook his head. “The Trackers were blinded by something the first time you were taken—probably an amulet. Jorund didn’t stop using whatever had worked before. No one could Find or Track you. Saeun must have conjured him a vision of where you were. A vision he could use his Pathfinding on. Is that how it was, brother?”

  “Something like that,” Dahleven growled.

  “You lied to me? Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “And because you didn’t speak, I asked an apostate to be my elskerinne.” Ragni snarled.

  Dahleven’s softened voice still held steel. “How could I expose her, when she offered me help at such great risk to herself?”

  “She helped with forbidden, unsanctioned magic!” Ragni gestured widely.

  “She found Celia!”

  “As glad as I am of that, I can’t condone—” Ragni’s voice broke and he swallowed hard.

  “It doesn’t matter if you condone what she did. You love her,” Celia said.

  “Quartzholm and Nuvinland need more than sentiment to remain safe and strong.” Ragni’s voice grated over the words. “There is more to life than love.”

  “And much less,” Celia said.

  Ragni’s mouth compressed to a thin tight line.

  “So you’re going to let some stupid rule ruin your lives?” she demanded.

  “The Laws of Sanction exist for a reason!”

  “What will you do, then? Will you expose me?” Dahleven asked.

  “Of course not! How could you think it? But by the gods, Dahl, if Saeun is caught, Wirmund will wring the truth from her. You’ll need Baldur’s Blessings to keep from being stripped of your Talent and Outcast.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TORCHLIGHT FLICKERED IN the courtyard as Dahleven strode down the steps to greet his father’s oldest friend in the open area at the base of the stairs. “Lord Magnus! Welcome! You made good time.” A few of the merchants who’d remained overnight watched from a distance as he grasped the other man’s forearm. “We had not hoped for the pleasure of your company, and that of the lovely Utta, for a day yet.” Dahleven smiled at his future sister-by-marriage. “Father and Ragni will be pleased.”

  Utta returned the smile but didn’t blush, at least as far as he could tell in the uncertain light. Good. She’s not too shy—though Ragni could surely charm her out of it if she were. Dahleven had never paid much attention to Utta. Now he looked at her more closely. She was pretty enough, with her brown eyes and hair. He hoped she could distract Ragni from his ill-fated infatuation with Saeun.

  Magnus, solid and square, clasped Dahleven’s forearm in return and thumped his shoulder with his other hand. “We’d hardly dawdle with such uncommon visitors awaiting!”

  As soon as he’d known of the Tewakwe’s impending arrival, Neven had sent word to Magnus that he might want to arrive earlier than Winterfest, when they would confirm their children’s betrothal.

  Servants were already unloading their horses of baggage under the watchful eye of Utta’s maid. Magni, Magnus’s grandson and heir, would no doubt arrive later to celebrate his aunt’s betrothal, along with the carriages and wagons carrying Utta’s ladies and her dowry.

  “Come in out of the cold!” Dahleven continued, glad of the heavy cloak he wore over an embroidered green velvet vest and full sleeved shirt. It would snow soon. The wind had shifted in the afternoon, slicing down from the mountain passes. “I’m sure you’re anxious to meet the Tewakwe, but perhaps you would prefer to go to your rooms tonight and greet them well rested in the morning?” There’d been no chance to speak to Father about Wirmund and Saeun before they’d gathered for the meal.
If Magnus joined them at the feast, he and Neven would closet themselves afterward to confer on matters great and small until the dark hours before dawn.

  Magnus cocked a shrewd eye at him. “You are a considerate host indeed, Lord Dahleven, but we are not so tired by our journey that we cannot join the feasting.”

  Resigned, Dahleven broadened his smile. It had been a thin chance, at best. “Excellent! Father will be glad to hear your journey was an easy one. Let us go in. No doubt you’ll want to change from your traveling clothes.”

  *

  Ragni paused outside the door as he escorted Utta to her room. He’d had no opportunity to speak with her at the feast. She and Magnus had been seated beside Neven, and afterward she’d been surrounded by the women of his family. That was fine by him. But Father and Magnus wanted them to make not just a good political match but a happy one, too. So he’d sought her out as the evening waned, made himself pleasant, and then accompanied her from the feast.

  He leaned toward her, lifting his hand close to her upper arm where she’d eventually wear his marriage bands, but not quite touching her. She probably wouldn’t refuse an invitation to make love, but he didn’t use his Empathy to find out. He had other things, urgent things, to do this night. “I’m glad you and Lord Magnus came early, my dear.”