by K. A. Linde
“Do you know where she has been staying?” Orden asked.
“Would she house us?” Vera asked.
“Can she be trusted?” Matilde added.
“Yes, I believe so. The Ambassadorship comes with accommodations, usually in the castle, but I know Kell is different because they are an aristocracy and run by a group of lords. The last I heard, she was staying with Lord Berg.”
Orden startled. “Berg? As in, Larsen Berg?”
Matilde pursed her lips. “Even we’ve heard of him.”
“Yes, he’s merciless,” Vera confirmed.
“Do we have another option?” Cyrene asked.
Everyone looked around at each other and then shook their heads. No, this was the only option they had. No one else was familiar with anyone who was still living in Kell. Even Matilde and Vera hadn’t been in the city in two hundred years.
“I know where the Bergs live,” Orden said. “I can take us to their residence.”
“How much time have you spent in the city?” Cyrene asked.
He shot her a cunning grin. “More than I care to admit.”
“Then, let’s go before the Guild puts out the fire we started.”
Everyone filed out of the barn. They took off at an easy jog through the streets of Alba. Cyrene was terrified about their tracks being visible in the snow, but Matilde waved her hand at the road, and they vanished.
“How did you do that?”
“Wind. You do it,” Matilde said. “You have enough strength.”
Cyrene sighed and wished she hadn’t asked. But, by the time they reached the mysterious Lord Berg’s house, Cyrene was an expert at covering their tracks. And she felt light as a feather. As if she could have done that all day. Magic might be the most addictive substance on earth.
They looked at Lord Berg’s impressive mansion from a side street. Orden wanted to sweep the perimeter before approaching the house. He, Avoca, and Ahlvie disappeared, promising to make sure they hadn’t been followed as well. Cyrene huddled in her cloak and wished she had poor Ceffy and the winter gloves that she’d received from Mana back in Fen.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand. How do they all have magic?” Cyrene asked. “I thought magic was gone.”
Matilde frowned. “Magic has never really disappeared, but we were as baffled as you were by the amount of natural-born Doma users.”
“It seems magic has gone underground. You can still find it, but no one is using it in plain sight any longer,” Vera added. “The Guild is a trained assassin group. They are respected, but no one, not even them, realize what they’re doing is magic.”
“Then, they’re fools,” Cyrene said.
“The most dangerous ones always are,” Matilde said.
Orden appeared at her elbow then. “I think it might be best if I approach the lord first. He will respect a title that he understands. Then, I can find out if your sister is in fact in residence still.”
Cyrene nodded. “Be careful.”
She watched as Orden crossed the empty street and knocked on the door. A butler answered, and they had a quick conversation. From the looks of it, the man didn’t want to speak with Orden at such an hour. Cyrene was ready to break into the house herself when the man finally gave a disgruntled nod and allowed Orden to move inside.
Ahlvie and Avoca appeared a few minutes later. It was a freezing half hour in which they were all blanketed in snow before Orden appeared at the door once more. He looked worried. Even for him.
“Thank you, Lord Berg. I greatly appreciate your assistance.”
Orden bowed crisply and then walked across the street.
“What happened?” Cyrene demanded when Orden appeared.
“Lord Berg refuses to house us. Also, he claims to have never heard of an Ambassador Aralyn from Byern.”
“What?” Cyrene asked. “How is that possible?”
“However,” Orden continued, unfazed, “Lady Berg briefly spoke to me while Lord Berg went to fetch us some fine Kelltic vodka and told me not to listen to her husband. That she would be happy to house me and my friends for the night.”
“That’s nice of her,” Matilde said with suspicion in her voice.
“She told me to come around to the back after Lord Berg went to sleep, and she would bring us inside and deal with Lord Berg herself.”
“I’m shocked that a lady would sidestep her husband in such a way,” Vera said.
“She is a formidable woman.”
“Well,” Cyrene said, “my gut says to go with it. What do you all think?”
“We have no other choice,” Orden said.
Everyone nodded, and then they set out to wait for Lord Berg to retire. Orden claimed that he took a cigar out on his balcony every night and then promptly went to bed afterward. Cyrene practiced warming them all up while they waited. She was getting better and better at it. Even Ahlvie didn’t complain as she worked on it.
“This is getting good,” Vera said with a warm smile. Probably because they weren’t all freezing now.
“Why do you think that is? When we first started, I could barely do anything that wasn’t catastrophic.”
“Magic has a way of things. You had a block against your powers. You didn’t believe in magic, and you didn’t believe in yourself. You might have learned your powers wrong in Byern, but once you started over, you retained that confidence about your abilities. You complain, but you don’t second-guess yourself. You are strong,” Matilde said. “You learned that yourself, and now, your abilities and the way you master them should happen more naturally.”
“Plus, you have me,” Avoca added. She reached through the bond and turned up the heat on Cyrene’s magic.
“Yes, the bond definitely helps. You learn faster together,” Vera agreed.
“I think it’s time,” Orden said, watching Lord Berg snuff out his cigar and then disappear back inside.
They waited another ten minutes before hurrying to the back of the house and waiting for Lady Berg to let them inside. Cyrene prayed to the Creator that this wasn’t a trap. Her little band of followers needed one easy break right about now.
Miraculously, the door swung open, and Lady Berg’s face appeared at the door. She was dressed in a fine dark green dress, and her hair was pulled back into a twist. Her eyes were wide and blue and startlingly familiar.
“Aralyn?” Cyrene gasped.
“Cyrene?” Aralyn said, her mouth falling open.
“You are Lady Berg?”
“Yes!” Aralyn said. “I…I wanted to tell you. I did!”
“Oh my Creator!” She tugged her sister into her arms.
It had been a year since she had seen Aralyn. The last time had been at her own Presenting back in Byern. Aralyn hadn’t even been able to make it for Elea’s Presenting…nor for their parents’ funeral. Now, she was…married?
“You came all this way?” Aralyn asked in shock. “I know I should have made it back for Mother and Father. How awful!”
“It was,” Cyrene said solemnly.
Thinking about her parents opened up that gaping wound that she always associated with her blood magic. She never really had time to grieve what had happened, and instead, she’d just been soldiering forward at a relentless pace.
“How was the service?”
“It was…” Cyrene shook her head. “It was.”
“I know.”
“You missed Elea, too,” she said quickly.
“Yes. But she made Affiliate, of course.”
“She did.”
Cyrene almost came out and said that she was consort now, but then she realized that wouldn’t help anything. Not why she was here or what she was doing. She was still in shock, just seeing her sister. All she wanted to do was divulge all her secrets and be kept close for once. But that wasn’t her destiny.
An abrupt cough sounded behind them.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Aralyn said. “Please come in, out of the cold.”
Aralyn ste
pped back, sweeping her long skirts out of the doorway, and ushered Cyrene and all of her traveling companions inside. They entered a great room with a crackling fireplace on either end. The marble beneath their feet was white and gleaming, and the incredible stonework had to have come from the Barren Mountains. Kell was renowned for its stone masonry.
Aralyn closed the door behind them and escorted them across the room. They entered a lavish sitting room where tea and biscuits were set out for guests. The party appropriately arranged themselves around the room, but Cyrene turned back to Aralyn.
“So…you’re married,” Cyrene got out.
Color rose in Aralyn’s cheeks, and her hand went to her stomach. “Yes. We were married in a Kelltic ceremony two years ago.”
“Two…years ago!” Cyrene gasped. “You came home for my Presenting last year and told no one?”
“You seem to be keeping quite a few secrets yourself,” Aralyn said. Her eyes flickered over to Ahlvie's face in the corner. He had been trying to hide himself from her. “Like consorting with criminals.”
“Ahlvie is not…” Cyrene began and then stopped. “Ahlvie did not kill Leslin. That was a misunderstanding.”
Ahlvie grinned and gave her a low bow. “Lady.”
“I believe all of this is beside the point,” Vera said smoothly. “We are quite grateful for your hospitality.”
“It is a rare gift in this world to have such a way with people,” Matilde added.
“We are much appreciative,” Avoca added.
“Well, I believed that I was helping an Aurumian lord and his close friends who had gotten in late. My husband is very strict with his rules. Calling on him after hours went against his sensibilities, but I couldn’t let you all stay out in the cold. I hardly expected my sister, who is supposed to be studying in Byern, to be here.”
She looked from one person to the next, as if expecting an explanation. She finally settled on Matilde and Vera, gathering that they were the leaders of this bunch. But their eyes shifted to Cyrene to ask what was appropriate to say to her sister.
Her other two siblings knew about her magic now, but could she tell Aralyn? Burden her with the information? Aralyn was the most logical and sensible of the four of them. Cyrene knew how she would react. Poorly. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“Well?” Aralyn asked, shifting to Cyrene.
“It is part of my Affiliate training,” she lied.
“Part of your training? No, the queen would never have let you leave before your two years in residency were up.”
“Kaliana recently had a baby girl. She is a bit more lenient than she was when you were last there.”
Again, Aralyn’s hand drifted to her stomach. “A royal princess?” Her eyes lit up. “How wonderful! I am sure that she and King Edric are so pleased.”
It took a great deal of effort for Cyrene to keep her face passive. Aralyn truly knew nothing of court.
“I can’t really speak about what I’m doing here, Aralyn. I’m sorry.”
Aralyn sighed and waved her off. “If it’s important, then you’ll share it with me. I am not going to leave you on the streets because you refuse to be frank with me. But you will have to give a better explanation to my husband in the morning. Lord Berg is excellent at detecting a lie. He is renowned for it. So, pick a truth, and stick with it.”
“Thank you, Aralyn,” Cyrene said, pulling her sister in for another hug.
Aralyn opened her mouth to respond when a pitter-patter of feet was heard down the hall. Then, a little boy burst into the room. He only came up to Aralyn’s knee and kept tripping over his white dressing gown while tugging on his cap.
“Mamá! Mamá!” the boy cried. “The demons are trying to get me again.”
“Laine, darling,” Aralyn said, hoisting the boy up onto her hip, “what have I told you about demons?”
“But Papá says they do exist!”
She brushed his blond mop of hair back off of his face. “Demons are not real. But I will come up to check under your bed if you like.”
The boy nodded vigorously and then seemed to notice he had an audience. Cyrene was staring at him, slack-jawed. Everyone else had seemed to grow still.
“Mamá, who’s this?” Laine asked with wide-eyed wonder.
“Oh, you will never go to sleep now,” she said with a sigh. “Might as well explain. Laine, darling, this is my sister Cyrene.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes. Two. Remember I told you they lived very far away.”
“Why’s she here?” he asked with the inquisitiveness only small children mastered.
“She’s here to visit. She was desperate to meet you,” Aralyn said, nuzzling his neck. “Well, Cyrene,” Aralyn said, seeming as if she was bracing herself, “this is your nephew, Laine de Boer Berg.”
“Hello there,” Cyrene said.
“You’re pretty,” Laine said with a smile.
“Why, thank you. How old are you?”
“Almost two!” he said, holding up three fingers.
“Two!” she said with round eyes at Aralyn. “That’s amazing.”
“Okay, enough excitement for one night. Time for bed.”
“But, Mamá,” he whined.
“Now.” She weakly smiled at them. “I’m going to get him in bed, and then I can get you to your rooms for the night. We have plenty of space.”
Cyrene took a step forward. “Do you need help?”
Aralyn smiled faintly. “That would be nice.”
Cyrene nodded at her friends, who finally dug into the biscuits.
Aralyn and Cyrene were silent as they walked through the foyer and up the grand staircase that led to the second story. Laine’s room was the first on the right, and after Aralyn checked under his bed, she kissed him once on each cheek and then his forehead before closing the door again.
“Well, I was going to tell you in the morning,” Aralyn whispered as they walked away from Laine’s door.
“You have a child.”
Aralyn nodded. “And I’m pregnant with my second. That was why I couldn’t come home.”
Cyrene put her hand out on her sister’s stomach. She could feel the small bump there. “I’m so happy for you. You’re in love? Lord Berg treats you right?”
“Yes, he is the best husband I could have ever hoped for. It started out…unexpectedly. I didn’t think that the lordship would allow him to marry a foreigner, but when I became pregnant, there was no other choice.”
Cyrene’s jaw dropped. Aralyn—her prudish, reserved, withdrawn, bookworm sister—had gotten pregnant out of wedlock.
Aralyn laughed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”
“I am not judging. I simply wish that you had told me.” Cyrene took Aralyn’s hands in her own. “I am happy for you.”
“I know.” She turned her face away from her sister. “I think I was ashamed.”
“Of this wonderful life?”
“Not exactly. More that I had gone away and done precisely what I was told not to. I am no longer objective about the subjects. I am a member of the family now. I might be a dual citizen, but I am Kelltic now. My heart belongs here. I worried every moment I was home that you or Leslin or Mother would notice. And then, after Leslin died, I wanted to get away, to get to my family, to be consoled by my husband. So, I fled.”
“That’s why you left so quickly.”
Aralyn nodded. “Do you forgive me?”
“Of course. You have done nothing wrong.”
“Are you going to tell me why you are really here, Cyrene?”
“There is more going on in Byern than you could possibly understand.”
“Like what?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Daufina is dead.”
Aralyn gasped. “The consort? Who is replacing her?”
Cyrene sighed and glanced down. “I did.”
“You? But why?”
“Because…both Edric and Kael were…are infatuated with me.”
&nb
sp; Aralyn crinkled her nose. “Are you telling tales, Cyrene?”
“I wish that I were.” Cyrene shook her head with a sigh. “I was not in Byern much of this year. Surely, you heard that?”
“Yes. You were kidnapped, but Reeve wrote to me to say that you were home and well.”
“I wasn’t kidnapped. I left and fell in love with the Eleysian prince. When Edric found out, he threatened to wage war if I didn’t return. So, he sent warships to collect me. When I got back to Byern, I tried to flee, and he killed Daufina because she tried to help me. Reeve is on the run, and Elea is trapped with Kael, who she is infatuated with. Something evil has taken root in Byern, Aralyn. It would be better for you not to return.”
Aralyn put a hand to her mouth. “This is all…so much.”
“I know. It’s unbelievable.”
“No, you always had a way with men. Now, you are on the run from your own country?”
Cyrene nodded. Almost the truth.
“Well, you may stay with me for as long as you choose. I will have to speak with my husband in the morning but know that you are always welcome with me. I will not send you back to Byern if that is not what you wish.”
“Thank you, Aralyn.”
“Now, we’ve kept your friends waiting for far too long. Let me get them settled. You and I will speak more about all of this tomorrow.”
They returned to find the tea and biscuits gone. Ahlvie was dozing in an armchair. Matilde and Vera were bent close together, whispering. Avoca was straight back and attentive. Orden stood like a sentinel in the corner.
Aralyn bustled them all upstairs, stuffing Ahlvie and Orden in one room with two beds. Then, incredibly, all four of the women were given their own rooms. Cyrene didn’t even want to know how many rooms this house had if it could comfortably sleep nine with space to spare.
“I’ll have baths drawn for the lot of you tomorrow. I will wake you all to break your fast at eight. If there is anything else that you need, please do let me know,” Aralyn said. She leaned forward and kissed Cyrene on each cheek and then on the forehead in the Kelltic manner, and then she disappeared for bed.
As soon as Cyrene’s head hit the pillow, she thought she would be able to sleep forever. It felt like weeks instead of a mere day since she had last been woken up in Tahne with Ahlvie as an Indres. Just as she was beginning to relax, Matilde and Vera barged into her room. They closed it, and she sat up straight.