Only a few letters stretched over the next several years, all very short, all commending the Dowager on her skill with managing Westsea.
And then a letter just after Taro’s brother’s death: We are sure your second son will need as much guidance as did your first.
The next said only: That is unfortunate, but not unexpected, given your son’s prior responsibilities.
That was when Taro had abjured the title.
The next letter was dated shortly after the death of the Empress, and it said: We are and will always be indebted to you for your unique assistance. However, We must be circumspect in our actions at this point.
“What would your mother have done for the Emperor?” I asked Taro.
“I don’t know,” he responded, his voice low. “But I am alarmed.”
The last letter said: We agree that control of Westsea would be advantageous, but We are not able to dictate resources to its procurement at this time. You must do as you see best.
Had the Emperor really been the one to send Lila to Flown Raven, or had the Dowager arranged it while telling Lila she was acting on the orders of the Emperor? Just as she kept telling Taro it was the Emperor who wanted him to have the title. Maybe his interest in Flown Raven was not, as we’d thought, about getting access to its power for casting. Maybe he had sent the Imperial Guards to cause difficulty for Fiona, because that was what the Dowager wanted.
The Dowager was dead. Was that going to make a difference?
I collected all the letters and shuffled them into a neat pile.
Taro left without saying anything, which was very unlike him. Following him probably wasn’t the best idea, but he had been alone a lot recently. Not off gambling or risking our lives steeplechasing. That was a problem. He wasn’t like me. A lot of solitude wasn’t good for him.
And it wasn’t as though he went anywhere far or obscure. He’d sat on the front steps, his shoulders slumped. If he wanted to be alone, he shouldn’t have made himself so easy to find.
I sat beside him and said nothing for a while.
I didn’t know if I was making him feel better or not.
Once the silence had made me uncomfortable, I said, “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
“She was an awful, awful woman.”
“She was your mother.”
“It’s stupid to feel anything for her.”
“Feelings are never stupid.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“It’s something I’ve learned.” I was sort of lying. Sometimes, I felt people’s emotions were disproportionate to their cause. But Taro’s current feelings were not an item in that category. His mother was dead. Her character was irrelevant.
I couldn’t imagine how it would feel to lose one’s family. It didn’t matter that I was an adult, and that I rarely saw them: I was sure that if every member of my family died, I would feel lost.
How could I make him feel less lost? Make him feel less alone? I leaned against him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“If I’d kept my mouth shut and denied Marcus’s challenge, the contract would have remained void, and we wouldn’t have to get married.”
None of this was his fault, not really. “It won’t be so bad.” At least I wasn’t going to have to marry Marcus. “There will no doubt be a certain cachet attached to being the person to wrap the chains of matrimony around the Stallion of the Triple S.”
He glared at me. “I can’t believe you’re still laying that on me.”
I grinned at him, unrepentant.
“I like your brothers better,” he claimed. “Maybe I should marry Mika instead. I’d wager the spell would accept the substitution, given he’s part of the Mallorough family.”
“He wouldn’t have you. He’s madly in lust with Linder.”
“He has excellent taste.”
“That he does.”
We sat there, watching what movement there was, mostly the house staff crossing to and fro performing one task or another. They all saw us, and many nodded or tugged a forelock, but no one spoke to us. After the chaos of the past few weeks, it was restful. Pleasant.
At around dusk, Dias clattered down the steps. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he complained.
“You couldn’t possibly,” Taro responded. “We’ve been here for ages.”
“Well, I didn’t know you’d be lazing around on the steps, did I?”
“I’m quite comfortable here,” Taro informed him.
“But we’ve got chocolate.”
That made me smile.
He took us to our suite and locked the door behind us. Mika was sitting on the floor, of course, surrounded by covered dishes and plates. There was the promised chocolate, and Mika was sipping wine. He raised his goblet in a toast. “All hail the betrothed couple.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Really, what is it with you and the floor?”
“Are you the type of person who needs to be told something twice? Sister, I’m so disappointed.”
“You really think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“Surely you’re not implying that I’m not.”
I sat on the floor. I never really found sitting on the floor comfortable. I’d rather sprawl on a settee. I accepted a goblet of chilled wine and wondered where my brothers had gotten it. I hoped they had paid for it. Members of the Triple S could requisition goods. So could their partners, as long as they remained partners, and children, until they were adults. That was it. But many regulars didn’t know precisely where the line was drawn, and my brothers might be able to get away with procuring goods without paying for them.
I didn’t ask, though. That would be rude.
“So,” Mika said as we cut into beef—no fish, thank Zaire—and potatoes. “Start talking.”
“Excuse me?” Taro asked.
“Where did you go that year you disappeared?”
Well, that was blunt.
And neither of us said anything.
“Clearly you haven’t had enough wine.” Mika reached over to pour some more red for Taro.
Taro put his hand over his goblet. “I won’t have my mind dulled again.”
“Are you trying to get us drunk so we’ll tell you what you want to know?” I accused them.
“It’s not so much that we want to know,” Mika objected. “I mean, aye, we want to know. Things have happened to you. But it is more that I think you need to tell us.”
“There was a light about you, after your Matching,” Dias added. “It’s much dimmed, now.”
I didn’t know what to think about that. I didn’t believe I was the sort of person who exuded any kind of light. That just wasn’t my nature. But I had certainly become disillusioned about certain things. Except Taro. He was the only force in my life that had never let me down.
Suddenly, I felt tired. Bone weary, my limbs weighed down, my eyelids heavy. I wanted to curl up on my bed and pull the covers over my head and just not think about anything, sleep until everything was normal again.
Mika tucked a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “You’ll feel better.”
“I have no way of knowing that. I’ll probably regret it.”
“You’ll have no reason to,” Mika promised.
He didn’t know what I had to tell him. Breaking into an office and destroying a family’s business, while horrific, was nowhere near as bad as killing someone.
“If you were to disappear, we’d like to know where to start looking.”
I looked at Taro.
He looked back, giving me no indication of what he thought I should do. Prat.
The weight on my chest suddenly grew heavy and hard. It made it difficult to breathe, though that made no sense. I wasn’t ill. There wasn’t anything physical pressing against me. It was all just emotion. It was a bad, bad idea to base decisions on emotion.
But I was tired and I couldn�
�t breathe.
So I told them. About killing Creol and how we did it, about killing a Reanist during the attack on the aristocrats at Yellows’ manor. Looking for Aryne, and who she was.
And this was when Taro, who had been letting me do all the talking, made a contribution of his own, one I’d known nothing about.
“The Empress decided to preserve Aryne’s status as a possible heir,” he announced. “A sort of second plan, should Gifford prove to be . . . inadequate.”
I stared at him. “She thought Aryne was useless!”
“She certainly wasn’t impressed. But she wasn’t impressed with Gifford, either. She had great concern over his opinions, his companions, his actions and his plans. She predicted that he might not live very long.”
“He was threatening his own health?”
“No. She thought someone was going to kill him.”
Hell, how callous was that? I’d never thought her a warm and friendly person, she had obviously been raised to be obeyed and had expected blind compliance, but I’d never thought her so hard-hearted, either. This was her son she had been talking about.
“As far as she knew, he had no children, and she was confident he wouldn’t choose an heir until he was much older. Apparently, it’s never wise for a monarch to choose an heir too early, as that heir might be tempted to hurry along the monarch’s death. Should Gifford die without an heir, she wanted it to be possible for Aryne to ascend to the throne.”
“But Aryne isn’t being educated to do anything like that.” Aryne was clever and seemed able to judge people very well, but I really hoped there was more than that to being a good monarch.
“The headmistress of the Source Academy is bringing in people to instruct Aryne in politics, diplomacy, military strategy, and so on.”
“The headmistress knows who Aryne is?”
“No. I asked her to make sure Aryne received a unique education. She doesn’t know why I asked.”
“Oh.” I was shocked to find Taro had that kind of influence.
“But she doesn’t know the code,” said Dias.
The code the heir needed to know in order to inherit.
“It’s not a code. It’s something more elaborate.”
That made sense, given what was to be inherited.
“And I know it.”
We all gaped at him.
“You could be the next monarch,” Dias breathed.
Technically, that was true. In reality, I didn’t think that would be allowed to happen. Taro had the undeserved reputation of being unreliable in anything other than channeling. And, if people didn’t think he was all that smart . . .
Taro scowled. “I am a Source.”
“So’s Aryne,” I reminded him.
“Not a very good one.”
“What has that to do with anything?”
“She may become skilled with training, but I really, really doubt it. She couldn’t even teach.”
Which would leave her engaged in maintenance, cooking, or caring for the children of the Academy. These were all useful and necessary tasks, but to have to do it in one of the academies meant one had failed to become a viable Source or Shield. And such a person might be serving or cleaning up after someone who, only the year before, had been a fellow student. I couldn’t imagine how awkward that would feel. I wouldn’t like Aryne having to accept that. Still. “I don’t think that means she should be, you know, ruling us all.” In fact, the idea kind of horrified me. Aryne had suffered a lot of abuse for much of her life. I wouldn’t blame her if she used whatever power she might acquire to punish the world for her pain.
“I was told to use my judgment.”
We spent more time staring at him.
That was a frightening amount of power to be vested in a person who really didn’t have the training or experience to hold it.
He shrugged with palpable discomfort.
“Do you think the Emperor knows?” Mika asked.
Taro’s eyes widened. Clearly, that was a possibility he’d never considered.
What would the Emperor do if he knew, if he found out? Would he send us to the end of the world? To Taro’s birthplace, hoping my Source would be overwhelmed by the natural events? Maybe the Emperor hadn’t really cared about the title at all, had merely felt the title would be another tie that wasn’t, ultimately, really important to him?
Or would he kill us?
Our secrets were even worse than I’d known. I almost wished Taro hadn’t told me.
But then, it must have been horrible for him, carrying that secret alone.
I didn’t know what to do. It was as though my mind had slowed down, so slow thoughts floated away before I could grab them. I didn’t think I could make a decision to save Taro’s life.
I was so tired, staring down at the floor, feeling suspended from reality. It took me a while to realize Taro was speaking, a while longer to understand he had taken over the duty of reporting our crimes to my brothers.
I expected Mika and Dias to deliver expressions of disgust and walk out, to refuse to talk to us, talk to me, for the remainder of their stay.
Instead, Dias took my hand and placed it on his thigh, covering my hand with his. An odd gesture, but one that drew me from my daze, gave me a firm connection to the world again. And it made me feel safe in a way that I’d never felt before, even with Taro.
We were silent for a while after Taro finished speaking. Mika was frowning. Dias was staring into space. I had no idea what they were thinking, but then I’d never had any skill at reading people. Taro was the one with greater talent in that area.
Then Mika snickered. “Who would think our severe and sensible sister would lead a life of such adventure?”
I could do nothing more than stare at him in shock. That was his response to everything we’d gone through? What the hell?
Taro shoved Mika hard enough to push him right over.
And my brain was still so slow that I found myself protesting, “I’m not severe!”
Dias patted my hand. “It’s reassuring to know that you’ll always leap to the most important issue in any situation.”
“You’re annoying,” I murmured.
“Ah, I love you, too,” he retorted.
And then the sense of relief I’d been too pessimistic to truly anticipate flooded through me. It almost made me dizzy.
And it brought tears to my eyes. What was wrong with me? I’d never been so close to crying so often since I was an adolescent.
“I have to admit, this is more serious than I’d expected,” said Mika, having straightened from Taro’s attack. “But I’d rather know all the details than be ignorant.”
“Why?” Taro asked. “Sometimes I wish I were ignorant.”
“A trader needs to know everything about everything, good and bad, in order to make the right decisions. Everyone does, really, but in my experience, people do prefer to work with their eyes closed. Father’s been able to take advantage of that, in the past.”
“And what do you think is the right decision?” Taro asked.
“We won’t tell anyone else.”
Dias didn’t object to Mika speaking on his behalf.
“We can be discreet. Well”—he glanced at Dias—“I can be.”
Dias sketched out a rude hand gesture.
“We know things you don’t. About more than trade. Now that we know what you’ve been up to, well, we can ask better questions. We have a lot of connections spread all over the continent. We could be useful.”
“Useful for what?” Taro asked.
“Warnings? Maybe? If we hear something with the slightest connection to what you’ve just told us, we can relay it to you. You’ve run against some powerful and diverse people. The Emperor, no less. I think you’ll need all the information you can get your hands on.”
“Information is power,” Dias added.
As plans went, it was weak and full of holes, yet it was still reassuring. How odd.
“You haven’t
touched the chocolate,” Dias commented.
I frowned at him.
“We’re done with the angst, aren’t we?”
Our trials were “angst”?
Then he grinned. I supposed he was trying to be funny. He wasn’t quite achieving the mark, but I could appreciate the effort. I could use a smile.
I popped a ball of chocolate into my mouth.
My brothers left not long after, and although it wasn’t late, Taro and I went to bed. I didn’t expect to sleep. I thought worry over what I’d told my brothers would keep me awake. Instead, I was sucked into deep slumber the moment I closed my eyes.
The next duty was attending a series of funerals, the final one in observance of the Dowager’s death. It was the one with the smallest attendance. The Dowager had had friends and connections, but apparently none were in the area, and there didn’t appear to be many tenants interested in seeing the Dowager honored. The only servants in attendance were the ones who had worked in the Dowager House, and some of them seemed sincerely devastated. It reminded me how strange people could be.
Taro, the Dowager’s closest family, refused to carry a trinket that represented her, to throw into the fire. I didn’t blame him at all. I thought he was being dutiful to a degree the Dowager didn’t deserve, hadn’t earned, just to attend the funeral at all. And I didn’t think he was at all eased by the ceremony, which was supposed to be the point of it.
He remained withdrawn for days, and hid in our suite. All I could do was watch and hope he rose up from his dark mood on his own.
I received a note from Marcus, in which he asked if he could meet with me. I hadn’t seen a lot of him, and I understood he had been part of the negotiations going on between his father and my mother. I had been happy to avoid anything concerning that process, but I wasn’t comfortable just ignoring Marcus until he left. Cars? No problem. But Marcus, well, I actually kind of liked him.
Though I would never, ever admit it to anyone.
We met in one of the parlors. I sat. Marcus wandered through the room, from window to fireplace to an end table, at which point he picked up a small button box and immediately put it back down again. He was clearly uncomfortable.
“Your mother offered us a partnership,” he said.
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