by Edun, Terah
No wonder my mother ran away, she thought bitterly, I wonder what she thought of this? What was it like for her? And then it was if a light clicked on in Ciardis’s head – she was surprised that she hadn’t thought of it sooner. She had had very few memories of her mother from before she became an orphan but that didn’t mean others didn’t. At the first ball of the Patron Hunt she had met someone who had known her mother. In fact that someone was still at court: the duke of Carne!
Ciardis tuned out of Lady Serena’s instructions, which mostly pertained to how to use refracted light to subtlety enhance yourself. Perhaps knowing more about her mother and the history of the Weathervanes could help her control those powers.
“Lady Serena,” said Ciardis politely once Serena had stopped speaking, “I was asked to call upon the duke of Carne’s event this afternoon. If you would be so kind as to allow me use of the carriage for the evening?”
“Really?” said Lady Vana, “Terris was invited for afternoon salon, as well.”
Ciardis had a moment of panic. Looking over at her protégé, Vana said, “My dear, you didn’t tell me that Ciardis would be coming along.”
Terris glanced over at Ciardis at the corner of eye in time to catch a look of panic cross her face. She knew that Ciardis hadn’t been invited to come along. They would have been in their rooms planning their dresses for hours if she had. But she wasn’t going to leave her friend hanging in the wind either.
“Oh yes, Milady,” she quickly said, “An invitation was sent; it just arrived later than usual.” She squeezed Ciardis’s hand in reassurance. “We are both meant to attend.”
“Very well,” said Serena, oblivious.
Lady Vana pursed her mouth dissatisfied. She knew the two trainees were hiding something, she just had to hope that whatever it was couldn’t be too bad. After all Terris was an excellent protégé and role model for other trainees. She’d never get into the sort of displays that Ciardis did.
“I expect a full report from you in the morning,” Vana instructed.
“Yes, ma’am,” they said together to their respective sponsors.
As they headed off to the outdoor salon, Ciardis took a moment to change. Certain times called for presentable clothes, and certain times called for drop-dead gorgeous attire. This was the latter. She was going to meet not only the duke of Carne and his family, but he also held court with the oldest noble families of Sandrin. They were sure to be in attendance. None would miss an afternoon soirée in the duke of Carne’s salon if they could help it. He was known for his intellectual gatherings once a month, and they were always the talk of the city for weeks afterward.
He had been known to invite authors, artists, military officials, and even diplomats to speak on the various topics and host discussions surrounding their chosen fields. That being said, many of the attendees came to the soirée to see and be seen. Intellect was a fashionable accessory in the high courts, education being highly favored by the emperor, but you didn’t have to be smart to be able to repeat intelligent phrases. As they swept down the long colonnade to the outdoor gazebo where the event was being held, Ciardis fought the distinct urge to tug on her dress—a bad habit she’d been trying to break since she arrived as a trainee at the Companions’ Guild. It wasn’t that the dress itched or was uncomfortable; merely that she was nervous and needed something to do with her hands.
As they approached, Ciardis could see that they were using the Swan Lake gazebo. Located near to the empress’s rose garden, it was actually built on a mage-made island in the center of Swan Lake. A thankfully short line of people waited before the single crossing onto the island—a charmingly carved bridge that arced over the water. As Ciardis walked forward in her fine gossamer dress the color of struck silver, she took in the richly attired guests. The woman two people ahead of her wore a small tiara with inset rubies that matched her mage robes. In contrast to Ciardis’s hair, which was pulled up into a messy ponytail with curls scattered haphazardly around her face and down her neck, most of the women wore elegant hairstyles including buns and elaborate twisted curls with hats. Ciardis had tried to improve her last minute hairdo, but there was only so much she could do with the bouncing curls in so little time.
As she eyed the full gazebo that she drifted ever closer to while in the line, Ciardis saw two distinct clusters of people alongside several smaller groups of individuals chatting. The first cluster surrounded the older Duke of Carne as he raised a wine glass and exuberantly talked about some topic. Another cluster surrounded another figure that Ciardis couldn’t quite see, but the conversation looked just as animated.
When they reached the gazebo, Ciardis wanted to head straight to the corner where the duke held court. Terris convinced her otherwise, that she must mingle before approaching the host and his guest of honor. So talk she did. She tried polite chatter and was managing it for some time. Until the second cluster parted and she finally got a view of the central figure. It was none other than Sebastian. With surprise, Ciardis noted that she hadn’t felt him when she’d entered the gazebo. It was large, but not that large, and she should have been able to sense his emotions from across the bridge in an area this small. Weird. Taking a glass of wine, she walked forward. Sebastian turned just slightly and caught her eye. She couldn’t read his expression and couldn’t feel his emotions. Did he want her there?
Halting with uncertainty, Ciardis prepared to quickly melt back into the surrounding crowd before the courtiers around the prince could see that she was approaching. And then he turned fully and held out a hand, palm up, with a welcoming smile. Gingerly, Ciardis walked forward and took his hand in hers. He tugged on her hand gently so she moved to his side, and he turned his smile back on the man in front of him.
“Lord Admiral Kanter, may I present Ciardis Weathervane, Companion Trainee.”
As Sebastian spoke, she felt him in her mind, as well. Relief and worry colored his thoughts.
“Ciardis, I’ve heard some disturbing news. My uncle, Duke of Cinnis, is not pleased with you.”
“Yes, I know,” she replied.
“This isn’t the time to be flippant. It could mean your life.”
Before she could explain further, Lord Admiral Kanter smiled and spoke. “Miss Weathervane. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard that you were in our courts but am delighted to finally meet you in person.”
He reached out a hand to take Ciardis’s and she had no choice but to release Sebastian’s and hold out her left hand as protocol demanded. Lord Admiral Kanter smoothly bent over and laid a chaste kiss on the back.
Smiling, he said, “Are you enjoying your time in the courts of Sandrin?”
“Very much so,” she said politely, dipping into a curtsy.
They exchanged further courtesies, and she turned to see Prince Sebastian was now engaged in a heated conversation with a man who looked nothing like the surrounding nobility. Curious, she turned to move forward into that conversational sphere. But then she halted in surprise. She’d just caught a glimpse of the duke’s guest of honor. In a floor-length silk gown the color of the forest, with bronzed hair and dazzling green eyes, she enchanted all of those who stood around her. Now that Ciardis was focused on her she could pick out the woman’s laughter ringing out over the low conversations in the crowd.
Who is this beautiful woman?
When a gap opened in the crowd Ciardis decided that now was an appropriate time to approach the host and his guest of honor. Nervously, she appeared before the duke and curtsied.
His Grace stared at her surprise. “Ah, little Weathervane. I didn’t realize you were coming.”
Ciardis blushed crimson, but before she could say anything, his wife intervened. “Ciardis Weathervane?”
Peering over her ornamental glasses, she looked at the girl curtseying before her. As Ciardis nodded hesitantly in confirmation, the Duchess clasped her hands together in excitement.
“I’ve been quite interested in meeting you,” she said, her blue eyes twinkl
ing in delight under a halo of white hair. “It’s been so long since a person with your esteemed talents has graced our courts.”
“That is true,” the duke said thoughtfully. “How are you adjusting to your new position, Mademoiselle Weathervane?”
“Fairly well,” Ciardis said, lying through her teeth.
He snorted. “Yes, of course. Your mother was the same way. She wouldn’t ask for any help until she was neck deep into whatever adventure she’d thrown herself into.”
“She was adventurous, then?”
“Oh, so adventurous,” exclaimed the duke’s wife. “I was older than her by a few years, but the stories she told of her nights out, and the escapades. Oh my word.”
Her voice dipped into a theatrical whisper. “You know your mother was very fond of...well, dare I say...commoners.”
Does this woman know where I come from? Probably just doesn’t care.
“Now, Leah, there’s nothing wrong with a dip on the other side now and then,” said the duke.
“Oh?” said his wife, her tone noticeably cooler. From the look they exchanged, Ciardis got the feeling there might be some history between the duke and the ‘other side.’
A short while later, Duchess Leah excused herself to grab a glass of wine, leaving Ciardis with the duke and his guest. The woman had been noticeably silent during their conversation, merely listening in.
Turning to her courteously, Ciardis asked, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madame. From where do you hail?”
The woman raised a curious eyebrow and flicked an amused glance at the duke of Carne.
He chuckled.
“You do not recognize me?” the woman purred with a noticeably foreign accent. Ciardis glanced between the two of them, waiting to be let in on the joke. She noticed the woman’s eyes then. They weren’t a normal green – neither the color of a new spring meadow nor the dark of a deep forest. What’s more – Ciardis could swear she had flecks of brown or maybe gold in them. A brilliant and captivating mixture.
“My dear,” the duke said gently to his guest of honor, “Your people are so rarely guests in Sandrin. Many of the young have forgotten.”
And then the woman’s eyes flashed, and Ciardis could see the flecks of gold floating in the green. She sucked in a breath as the memory came back. The memory of speaking to the dragon on the storm-tossed ship deck just a few days ago. The woman’s voice had the same accent that had echoed in Ciardis’s head when she first met the Sahalian Ambassador.
Feeling foolish but having to know if she was right, Ciardis tentatively said, “Ambassador Sedaris?”
“Who else would I be?”
“Your mother had very much the same look of stupefied surprise on her face when she met her first dragon,” said the duke of Carne.
“So Lady Weathervane, how are you enjoying the festivities?” the dragon ambassador questioned with a hint of a hiss on the tip of her tongue.
“It’s very well received,” said Ciardis politely as she brought her drink up to her mouth and hastily took a gulp. Very well received indeed, if you counted a dragon in human form. When had that happened? Could they all do that?
Ciardis felt a wave of vertigo sweep over her as the dragon standing before her spoke into her mind again. “You are an interesting child. And yes, all of my race can transform.”
Speaking aloud, the woman smiled and said, “I admire a curious mind. Particularly by one who flatters me,” she said.
Ciardis could hear a tone of affection in the dragon’s voice. No, affection wasn’t it...it was more of a possessive overtone? The ambassador had only been here for a few days, really, but she had already turned the palace on its head. Ciardis had heard of the shouting matches between the ambassador and the emperor. She had heard that the ambassador had emerged victorious in them all. Drowning out the human courtiers in her anger and contempt with her voice alone. Until now, Ciardis had assumed it had been the dragon roaring that had cowed the courtiers.
Now, as she looked into the golden-flecked green eyes of the woman standing before her, she had to wonder if it was dragon in human form that had cowed the courtiers.
“Of course it was,” said the woman smugly. “I am Sedaris. I don’t need my birth form to cow you mere mortals.”
She felt the weirdest sensations when speaking with the woman. It was like being connected to Sebastian but more intense. It was if she was falling into the dragon’s feelings. She could feel the vast depths of her pride in being a dragon, her disgust with the overpowering smell of the human perfumes around her, and a small core inside of her that was filled with worry.
“What?” said Ciardis, feeling for that core, trying to navigate through the thick layers of memories slowly consuming her vision. If she could just see what made the dragon so upset, perhaps she could help Prince Heir Sebastian and get the people in the forest some help.
The dragon gave her gentle push out of her mind. Gentle for a dragon. Harsh for a human. Ciardis was pushed back into her body so abruptly that she stumbled and would have fallen if it weren’t for the duke’s quick arm out to catch her.
“My dear, are you well?” he questioned solicitously.
As he leaned over her he tightened his grip on her arm as he looked into her eyes. His eyes sharpened, and just for a moment, she saw a flash of surprise, perhaps even fear. “Of course I am.” His lips tightened into a thin line. He visibly got a hold of himself and made sure to steady her with a solicitous hand on her back.
The brittle smile on his face didn’t escape Ciardis’s notice. She flashed back to the dragon’s overwhelming mental presence – it had been as if she had been drowning in the mind and magic of Ambassador Sedaris. Perhaps the Duke had felt that?
“We will speak later, sarin,” was the last thing Ciardis heard from the dragon.
As the duke watched the dragon glide away, he slowly walked Ciardis over to a nearby bench to rest. His eyes opened wide in surprise and worry as he heard the Ambassador call Ciardis “Sarin” while she walked away.
“I’m too old for this nonsense,” whispered the duke as he helped Ciardis settle down on the couch. He put a sight and sound shield up around them just in case.
He looked straight in her eyes. The serious expression on his face told Ciardis she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say.
“What nonsense?” she questioned groggily as she took a sip of wine, hoping to shock herself out of whatever this was.
The duke grabbed his own glass and knocked back a shot of whiskey before he answered her question.
“A sarin. She called you her sarin,” he said, “Being a sarin, in essence a representative and companion to the dragon, would turn the Imperial courts on its head. This would be a problem if any human became a sarin – they were generally troublesome figures even if powerless. But a Weathervane? It would be catastrophic.”
“And?”
“Do you know what a sarin is? It’s Sahalian for ‘companion,’ but not just any companion. A bond mate and representative of the dragon.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Ciardis said politely. “We just met. Why would she pick me for such an important position?”
“It’s not a position so much as a lifestyle,” he said as he took a second shot of whiskey.
He looked over his shoulder and back down to her, “There’s a chance the dragon will forget. It’s best that you do as well. Nothing good can come of this.”
Ciardis lifted a chin and glared, “I don’t even know what this is. But as long as it’s not going to bite me in the ass I will happily forget about it.”
Staring into his empty glass miserably, the Duke looked like he wanted to get drunk at his own party.
“You know your mother—Lily—was always getting into trouble. Just like you. But when she met a dragon and he tried to claim her even she knew to run,” the duke said in a mumble.
“Wait, sir,” Ciardis said while grasping his forearm urgently. “You said my mother was running from
a dragon? When?”
He looked at her and said with a barely concealed bitterness. “Why child...right before she disappeared.”
Ciardis stared at him, uncomprehending, for a moment. It upset her that her mother had been running from something. Running from a dragon even more so.
“Well?” said the slightly drunk duke. Ciardis didn’t reply. She was weighing his words. He might have been a tad drunk, but she heard truth in them. The question was what to do about it. The dragon calling her a sarin could be pushed off as a mistake, but her mother’s disappearance was different. She needed to know more. Why had she truly left the courts?
“I want to know more,” said Ciardis quietly. “I want to know everything about why my mother left court and I want to know now.”
“Then you’re talking with the wrong person,” said the Duchess of Carne. She had quietly entered her husband’s protective shield and stood looking down at Ciardis with a sad smile on her face.
“Come with me, Ciardis Weathervane,” she said. “It’s time someone told you the truth.”
With a backwards glance as she followed the duchess, Ciardis caught sight of Prince Sebastian as he was preparing to leave. She’d have to catch him up on the events pertaining to the Duke of Cinnis another day.
Chapter 8
Miles away on the road to the home of the kith, the Weather Mage was riding at a breakneck pace on a stallion built for long distances. Beside him, astride a horse of similar merit, rode the person the Weather Mage internally referred to as “the Shadow Mage.” Externally whenever he addressed the mage, he called him “Master.” He did it reluctantly. But he had learned swiftly in the few days they’d been together that the man would tolerate nothing less than absolute subservience.
The Weather Mage was a man of pride as most mages were. The Shadow Mage had entrapped his mind with his magic and could control his actions with just a surge of his magic. It was humiliating and frustrating - rankling his pride like a dog with too many fleas. He constantly itched to throw off the yoke that hobbled him and had finally sought to revolt against the Shadow Mage one night. It had not gone well. As punishment the Shadow Mage had his dark, ink-like creatures carve into the skin of the Weather Mage’s back with claws made of shadows. They left his flesh torn and in bloody ruins, causing rivulets of blood to run down and his poor back to feel like it was on fire. After that he’d never talked back—not aloud. He couldn’t help his thoughts, and he suspected the Shadow Mage could hear them. But he never responded to them.