by Sharon Shinn
I frowned and put my hands behind my back. “That sounds gruesome,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to see anybody’s bloody, icky insides.”
He lifted his hand to touch my face. “It’s not gruesome; it’s marvelous,” he said, a note of amazement in his voice. “Look at the color of your cheek! An aliora’s skin is so pale, as if moonlight runs in her veins. But your skin is so rich and beautiful—there is so much life going on beneath your surface—I want some of it for my own—”
And he leaned forward and kissed me.
I swirled into heat and sensation; elation hammered at my heart. Forget breathing or thinking or even existing. This was death by rapture. I crowded closer, hungry for another kiss, desperate to feel his arms tighten around me, meld our two bodies into one—
He swore and released me so quickly that I nearly tumbled headfirst into the dirt. “Zara!” he exclaimed and caught me before I fell. I was dizzy and stupid and confused.
“What—why did you—”
“Your necklace—I’m sorry—when I hugged you, it seared my skin.”
I made an infuriated noise deep in my throat and tugged futilely at the loop of gold soldered around my throat. “I can’t take it off,” I said. “We’ll just have to be careful when you’re kissing me.”
“You make me forget how to be careful,” he said, exhaling on a laugh. “Is there nothing you can do? Can it be broken?”
The idea had never occurred to me. “I suppose—but it’s awfully thick. I don’t think I can yank it hard enough to break it.”
“Maybe if you twisted it around a stick—”
In this open household, he didn’t have to hunt far to find a short, straight branch. “Try this,” he said. “But first—place some padding against your throat so you don’t hurt yourself. Now wrap the necklace around the stick—and twist it—and twist it again—”
I registered the satisfying snap against my fingers the same instant I felt the necklace slacken against the back of my neck. Giggling, I tossed away the stick and lifted one dangling edge of the severed chain and slowly pulled it free. I held it up between us like a tiny glittering snake that had been summarily beheaded before it could do any damage in the garden.
“And now I suppose you can kiss me as long as you want,” I whispered.
“Princess Zara.”
Cressida’s sharp voice made both of us spin around like guilty schoolchildren. I was so unnerved I dropped the necklace onto the grassy floor.
“Royven, back away. Zara, pick that up,” Cressida ordered, her voice so stern that neither of us thought to disobey. I coiled the chain in my hand and watched her nervously.
“Refasten the necklace about your throat,” she directed.
“I can’t. It’s broken.”
“Then put on your bracelets and earrings and every other scrap of metal you own.”
“They’re—they’re somewhere in Rowena’s house,” I said. “Royven didn’t bring them when he brought everything else.”
“I couldn’t pick them up,” he defended himself.
Cressida gave me a long, measuring stare. I could not tell if she was angry or sad, but she was certainly disappointed. “Then we will go together to Rowena’s house, and you will resume your protections,” she said. “And then you and I will walk through the boundaries of Alora and await the arrival of your young man.”
I had to think a moment. “Orlain? He’s coming here?”
“You told me he would visit you every tenth day, and tomorrow is the twentieth day you have been with us. If he can be depended upon, he will arrive tomorrow.”
“I’ll come with you,” Royven said. “I know exactly where they’re supposed to meet.”
“You,” she said, “will wait here and do your best to stay out of trouble.”
It was as if Orlain had already arrived—to see me at my worst. Naturally I burst into tears.
Cressida and I made a cold camp beside the cairn on the Alora side of the Faelyn River. As soon as we had crossed the magical boundary, I had been weighed down with a black depression. My limbs were leaden; my head was so heavy that it kept tilting forward, almost toppling me to the ground. Cressida, who until now had been the most considerate companion, did not bother to slow down to accommodate my misery; she did not take my hand to offer comfort or reassurance. I stumbled after her, too breathless to complain, too weary to weep. And when we arrived at our destination, I made no effort to help her fetch water or otherwise set up camp. I just sat in a heap on a folded blanket and gave in to my suffering.
Cressida did not bother trying to convince me I would feel better in the morning, but she flavored my evening meal with one of my mother’s potions. My spirits did rise after I’d swallowed the cinnamon-and-orange-scented concoction, but I wasn’t actually happy. Who could be happy once outside the borders of Alora?
We slept side by side on the ground, the wild music of the Faelyn River providing a tumultuous counterpoint to our dreams. When I woke, the sun had cheered the whole landscape, Cressida had made breakfast—and Orlain had crossed the river to join us.
I scrambled to my feet, suddenly very conscious of my tousled hair, my crumpled clothing, and my missing necklace. “Orlain,” I said breathlessly. “What’s the news?”
“Tense,” he said. He was frowning as he looked me over, and I was sure he didn’t miss a detail of my disorderly state. “Goff of Chillain arrived four days ago and engaged in a skirmish with some of the castle forces. Losses were minimal, but tempers have frayed in the heat. Now the king’s allies want to storm the rebel troops in a strong reprisal, although your father is still hoping for peaceful resolution. Young Brandon is still riding up and down at the head of Dirkson’s army, hoping to lure deserters to his cause. At any day, the situation could deteriorate into all-out war. Why are you out here, sleeping by the river?”
I had been so intent on visualizing his description of the hostilities that I almost missed the swift change in subject. “It—I wasn’t sure when you would arrive and I didn’t want to miss you.”
“You wouldn’t have missed me,” he said. “I wouldn’t have left until I’d seen you.”
Cressida spoke up bluntly. “She is falling under the spell of Alora,” she said. “It is not safe for her to stay any longer. You must take her back with you.”
“Cressida!” I exclaimed, outraged. This was the first time she’d mentioned such a plan to me.
Now Orlain gave her the same thorough inspection he had turned on me. He seemed to find her looks more prepossessing, though, because his face softened and he held out his hand. “I’m Orlain,” he said. “A captain in the royal guard.”
Cressida smiled and shook her head. “You’d better not allow me to touch you,” she said. “You, too, could be bewitched by our magic.”
He let his hand fall and a smile came to his own face. “I doubt it.”
“Then I am the one who does not want to take chances,” she said. “Take her home, or risk losing her forever.”
“I’m not ready to leave yet!”
“I cannot take her,” Orlain said quietly. “On my way here, I passed three sets of Tregonian troops, riding out to join Dirkson. If Zara were to be recognized—”
“Then return here with an escort at your back, and do not delay another ten days,” Cressida said.
“If the troops engage in true battle, there is no safety for her at Castle Auburn, either,” he replied. “I would rather she was alive and lost to us than—” He did not complete the sentence.
“I would not be lost,” I said with exaggerated enunciation. It was very annoying to have people talk about me as if I were not present. “I would be in Alora and doing quite well! Anyone could come see me there.”
Cressida turned on me suddenly. “Who would come visit you?” she said.
I was at a loss. “Well—anyone who wanted to.”
“List them.”
I gestured. “Orlain, of course.”
“Who else?”
>
“My parents. My brother.”
“What’s your brother’s name?”
I stared at her blankly.
“What does he look like?” she said.
“He’s—he’s—well, he’s shorter than I am, of course, and he—” It was a struggle to call up his features, but they slowly came into focus as I concentrated. “His eyes are dark. His eyelashes are longer than mine, which is so unfair. He has a scar across his left eyebrow from where he hit himself with a wooden sword. And he—Keesen,” I said abruptly. “That’s his name.”
Cressida glanced at Orlain. “You see?”
Orlain’s expression was closed, impossible to read. “She’s strong-willed,” he said. “I have faith that she will not succumb.”
“Give her a reason to remember her human life.”
He gestured behind him, toward the leaping blue waters of the Faelyn River. “Everything she loves is at Castle Auburn. I don’t believe she will truly let those memories cloud over and evaporate.”
“She needs a stronger reason than that,” Cressida said.
I was remembering the last conversation I’d had with Orlain, right at the enchanted border. I was remembering that he had almost confessed he loved me. “Orlain,” I said shyly, putting my hand on his arm. “Come back with us to Alora. I know you are worried about my safety. Come with us and watch out for me there.”
He glanced down at my hand and then slowly lifted his eyes to mine. His flesh had turned to iron under my touch. “My responsibilities take me back,” he said flatly.
“Then return to me as soon as you can,” I suggested. “We could live there together. There are no social classes in Alora—no distinctions. Everyone is the equal of everyone else.”
“Princess,” he said. “No magic is powerful enough to make me forget my place.”
I heard Cressida’s hiss of annoyance—clearly she had hoped he would speak more persuasively. I said, “Love is the most powerful magic of all.”
I felt the muscles cord in his arm as his hand clenched to a fist. “It is,” he agreed. “I think it will make me remember what you are determined to forget.”
“I think I will remember it,” I whispered, “if you kiss me.”
He stood there for a long time, looking down at me, immobile as one of those great forest oaks that never tremble no matter what the tempest. Then slowly, as if he was one of those trees just now learning the mechanics of movement, he bent from the waist and gently brushed his lips across mine. I closed my eyes to savor the sensation, and he kissed me one more time, just as softly, holding the contact a second or two longer. When he lifted his head I opened my eyes and smiled up at him, suffused with a sparkling satisfaction.
“Where’s your necklace?” he asked abruptly.
I dropped my hand from his and scowled. “It broke.”
He raised his eyebrows and made no other comment, but his hands went up to the back of his neck, and I realized he was undoing the chain to a gold medallion he always wore. All the castle guards were given such medallions as soon as they were hired. “Put this on,” he said.
He slipped it over my head and fastened the clasp. I felt the smooth disk of the pendant against my skin, warm from contact with his. I pressed my hand across it to absorb that faint heat. “But now you won’t be safe if you cross into Alora,” I protested.
“I’ll bring some other talisman for protection.”
“Come back as soon as you can,” Cressida urged. “Don’t wait another ten days.”
“I’ll try,” he said. He bowed to me, very low, touching his hand against his forehead. “Princess,” he said. “Do not quite forget.”
Six
I moped around Cressida’s house for the next two days, disinclined to search for more herbs, sew a new dress, learn another dance, or help another aliora construct a flawed and charming house. Sleeping was the only activity that held any appeal, and I loved to curl up on my pile of blankets in the middle of the floor and slumber the hours away. Usually I slept with Orlain’s medallion under my cheek. Whenever I would finally wake, I could feel the flat round indentation in my skin.
On the third day, Royven arrived just as I sat up, yawning, from an afternoon nap. He tilted my chin up and inspected my face. “I didn’t think that was possible,” he said.
“What?”
“Humans never develop an antipathy to gold. But I think you are.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Your cheek. It looks so red.”
“I was sleeping on Orlain’s medallion.”
“Did it burn your skin? Does your face feel hotter where it touched you?”
I rubbed my fingers across the affected patch. “Maybe. Just a little.”
“How about your bracelets? Are they burning your arms?”
I investigated the flesh along my wrists, which bore the reddened impressions of the metal circlets. “My arms were pressed against the bracelets while I was sleeping,” I explained. I had to admit I was slightly uneasy, however. Now that Royven mentioned it, each piece of gold felt a little warm to the touch.
“Maybe that’s all it is,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile.
“I’ll pay attention,” I promised. “If it gets any worse—”
“Oh—I’m sure it won’t,” he said. “As I say, I’ve never met a human who couldn’t handle gold. Jed Cortay has lived in Alora for twenty years, and no metal ever bothers him.”
But it was hard to get the idea out of my head. That night, instead of sleeping with the medallion, I laid it carefully beside me on the ground, and I slipped it back on first thing in the morning. The bracelets, too. But I could feel them all through the day, chafing my skin. I pulled out the medallion and let it rest on top of my dress, but I could still feel its heat through the layer of silk. The bracelets felt so warm that I finally had to remove them altogether.
“I could make a pouch for you,” Royven suggested. “A little bag you could slip over the medallion. That would help protect your skin. If you still want to wear the pendant.”
“I do,” I said firmly, though I was having a hard time remembering why. “Thank you. I would love that.”
He wove a small bag out of lemongrass and orchids, and the wide, flat disk fit perfectly inside. Its coolness was an instant relief against my skin; soon I forgot I was even wearing the pendant.
A day later I forgot to put the pendant on.
“Let’s go walking through the forest to see what we can find,” Royven suggested.
I put my hand in his and said, “Let’s.”
We were gone most of the day, though we accomplished very little. Now and then I noticed a particularly beautiful flower or useful plant, and I plucked these to bring back to Cressida. A few times, Royven spotted sturdy or well-seasoned branches that met some construction need, and he bundled up about half a dozen of them and slung them over his shoulder. We held hands, of course, as we strolled through the woods, and now and then we paused to trade kisses. His lips burned as hot as gold. I closed my eyes and melted into his embrace.
It was late afternoon when we reluctantly retraced our steps to Cressida’s house. She was waiting outside for us, more nervous and impatient than I had ever seen her.
“There you are,” she exclaimed, coming between us with such force that our clasped hands loosened and fell. “Quickly—you must come with me to Rowena’s.”
I was tired and I had been looking forward to another nap. “What’s wrong?” I asked through a yawn.
She took my arm and pulled me forward, not answering directly. “Come with me.”
I glanced at Royven, who shrugged and fell in step behind us.
As we drew closer to Rowena’s, I could see a small crowd gathered before the open house. The clattering, humming language of the aliora rose from this group in an orchestral cacophony that held a note of distress. I caught Jaxon’s voice, louder than the rest, expostulating with someone, and Rowena’s, low and soothing. With much less than h
er usual courtesy, Cressida tugged me through the assembled aliora until I was face-to-face with Rowena.
A young man stood before her, his back to me.
“Orlain,” I breathed.
He heard my voice and jerked around to face me. “Princess,” he said, stepping closer and taking both my hands in his. “The uprising has ended. I’ve come to take you home.”
“What uprising?” I said.
His hands tightened on mine. “The mutinous armies led by Dirkson of Tregonia,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “They have been disbanded. There was another quick encounter between the rebels and the royals, and the counterfeit young prince Brandon behaved with utter cowardice. A handful of loyal men chased him off the field of battle, too afraid to even draw his sword. No one would follow such a despicable prince, and Dirkson could not hold his troops together. It is safe for you to return. Soldiers have already ridden for Cotteswold to fetch Keesen.”
“Who is Keesen?” I said.
Now his grip was painful. “Your younger brother. You love him very much.”
“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him,” I said.
“You’ll be with him as soon as we get back to Castle Auburn.”
“But I’m not going to Castle Auburn,” I said. “I want to stay here.”
“That’s what I told you she would say!” Jaxon exclaimed. “She’s happy in Alora.”
“Her life is elsewhere,” Orlain replied, not bothering to look at Jaxon. “And my duty is to return her to that life.”
Rowena spoke up in her musical voice. “Shouldn’t Zara be allowed to choose what she wants? We would never bind any human against her will, but we gladly extend a welcome to any who wish to stay. And even in this short time, all of us have grown fond of her. We wish her to remain with us.”
Orlain was just watching me with an urgent intensity, as if willing some privileged knowledge of his own to be visible in his eyes. “You were born at Castle Auburn,” he said. “Your first word was ‘princess.’ Your bedroom is decorated with yellow roses and a painting of Bryan Ouvrelet that you stole from the south gallery. Your favorite cat is thirteen years old, blind in both eyes, and lame, but you will not allow anyone to advance the notion of putting him down. You love to waltz, and whenever you take the dance floor, all the young men of the kingdom stare after you, wishing they could be your partner. I kissed you the last time I saw you and you seemed to like it. If you come with me, I will kiss you again.”