When she finished recounting the events, she said in a near whisper, “There’s something else that you should know. It was Marissa who tried to kill Hayden at Ravenwood. When I confronted her about what she did to Rhoane, Ynyd Eirathnacht sang to me of her betrayal. She tried to deny it, but I know it was her.”
He rested his chin on steepled fingers, processing all that she’d told him. When finally he spoke, his voice sounded as tormented as she felt. “You should never have had to suffer this. Your sister will be punished for her crimes. As for your brother and father, they, too, will pay. We must tell your mother all that you’ve shared tonight and declare war on them immediately.”
“No, Uncle, that is not the answer. If we go to war only because of what they did to me, then hundreds will die for my vanity. I cannot condone any action that will lead innocent men to their deaths. Furthermore, I told you this in confidence. You can’t tell anyone.
“Lliandra is an empress first, a mother last. As for Marissa, I will deal with her when the time is right. What she did was inexcusable, but she can still be of use to us. She is, after all, Zakael’s lover and spy. We now know exactly whose side she’s on and can move to make Eliahnna the heir to the Light Throne.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You are next in line for the throne.”
“I don’t want it. I could never rule Aelinae the way my sister would. Besides, I am also heir to the Obsidian and Weirren thrones—do I wear a crown for all three?”
“Perhaps that is what the gods have in store for you. Have you thought about that? You cannot hide from your destiny. The sooner you embrace it, the better. If it is your fate to wear the triple crown, you must be willing to accept it graciously.”
“I don’t think that’s what the gods have in store for me. There’s a reason Ohlin gave me the name Galendrin, and the Eleri call meDarennsai. One is the Keeper of the Stars; the other, Daughter of the Sky. I’m pretty sure they have a plan for me, even if they won’t admit it. But enough of this. What else has happened in my absence?”
Her uncle took the hint and told her of Paderau business and then what was happening at the Crystal Palace. Her friends were well but missed her terribly. Ellie had recovered from her ordeal but refused to leave the palace. A stab of guilt twisted her gut as surely as would a savage blade. She’d been too focused on herself, with the belief she shouldn’t burden them with her troubles. In a gentle voice, her uncle reminded her that just a word or two that she was well was all they needed.
He was right and no amount of clever excuses could deny it, but he hadn’t told her the worst yet. “Rhoane stayed in Paderau for a night on his way to Talaith.”
Taryn swallowed a lump in her throat and asked, “Was he okay?”
“He was as pale as you are, my dear, and he looked as if he could use a good meal, too. He was quiet, more than usual. I could sense in him a great discord.” Her uncle looked away suddenly.
“What is it? If there’s something I need to know, please tell me.” She held his hand in hers, running her thumb over his soft skin.
“He stayed in your rooms. I hope you can forgive me, but it seemed very important to him, and I could not deny him this one courtesy.” Anje’s face was pained as he looked at her. “You aren’t upset, are you?”
A small cry escaped her. “No, Uncle, you did the right thing. That means he still cares for me.”
“Of course he does. What would make you think otherwise? It is his love for you that torments him. Do you know what it is to be broken when you are Eleri? He holds his shame in his soul and this splits him in two. Only he can heal the divide.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to bear.”
He pointed at her runes. “As long as you wear these bonds, never doubt. Rhoane is as committed in his love to you as ever he was or these would be unraveling. It’s that love that will heal him in time. Have faith and the strength of patience to give him the time he needs.”
Patience was not her best trait, but it wasn’t as if she had any other choice.
Chapter 37
DUKE Anje’s fireballs were getting fiercer, closer together. Taryn ducked to avoid one, tangling herself in a vine that trailed from the tree above her. It wasn’t until she was upended, her silver hair hanging nearly to the ground, that she realized her uncle had set the vine on her. He chuckled smugly to himself, until Taryn grabbed him with a creeper. Then his smug smile turned upside down with the rest of him.
The vines gently lowered them to the ground, where they discussed her growing skill with Dark Shanti. Anje couldn’t conceal how impressed he was with her abilities, nor could he disguise his disbelief at how quickly she learned each new element. Even so, Taryn was not immune to injury. More than once she attempted something before Anje thought her ready, with disastrous consequences.
Just that morning, she’d tried to re-create the fire and ice she made after her coronation. Instead of setting herself on fire, she’d demolished a wooden cart nearby. When she tried to bring water from the river to douse it, she flooded one of the storerooms. It was a difficult reminder that she was not all-powerful and her uncle’s recriminations to learn slowly were to be heeded. Most of the time.
“You learn quickly, Taryn, but there is danger in having great power. You could call forth all the gold in my coffers; however, your riches would be fleeting. You see, there is an attachment to things we have as individuals. If I take all of your gold, it will eventually wish to return to you, and I would suffer severe consequences for my theft.”
“ShantiMari has an honesty policy?”
“In a sense. If you abuse it, you must be prepared to accept what the power gives back. There have been those throughout history who believe themselves exempt from such rules. They are the practitioners of the Black Arts. Men and women who corrupt their souls and twist their power to evil ends. Whoever controls your Shadow Assassin is a master in the Black Arts. It takes a great amount of ShantiMari to control another’s soul.”
“When I searched the assassin’s thoughts, there was nothing. No memory, no thought, no pain or fear. It was like he didn’t exist beyond hunting me.”
“A Shadow Assassin is brought from the spirit world and not made of flesh, but Rhoane told me when he cut the assassin, he bled.”
“What does that mean?”
“It could be the man who hunts you was barely alive when he was turned. I dare not try to understand the ways of Black Masters. Once you delve into the mysteries, your soul is lost for all time. Now,” he said, changing the subject, “there are a few more lessons I have for this morning and then we’ll go for a ride along the river. Ashanni misses you, and I have a pony for Gian that I think he’ll enjoy. But first, see that bench over there? I want you to move it to here.” He pointed in front of them.
The bench was made of solid concrete, granite possibly. “It’s too heavy.”
“Humor an old man.”
Taryn focused her concentration on the bench, trying to lift it using just her Dark Shanti. When that didn’t work, she pulled in strands from Eleri and then Light. She struggled and fought against the bench. Sweat ran down her face, her neck muscles bulged with the effort.
“It’s no use. It won’t move,” she said at last.
Anje twitched his finger and the bench jumped from where it had been to settle at their feet. “You see, Taryn, you were using your ShantiMari, yes, but incorrectly.” A snap of his fingers and the bench returned to its place under the sargot tree. Anje explained how she needed to gather the energy around them to move the stone instead of relying on just her strength.
Taking a breath to center herself, she tried again. The bench stayed as solidly placed as ever. She cursed in frustration.
“You can practice this. It’s good that you can’t accomplish everything on your first try. Otherwise, you’ll think you’re invincible.” He chuckled.
“I don’t see how this is funny.”
“My dear, if everything comes to you too easily, y
ou will become complacent and sloppy. You must always strive for perfection when using ShantiMari or you might cause great harm to yourself or those around you, but many things take practice and seasons to perfect. I have one more thing to show you and then we’ll be done for today.” He took her hand and winked at her. “I think you’ll like this.”
One moment they were standing in the garden and the next, in Duke Anje’s chambers. Taryn looked around, blinking. “How did you do that?”
“It’s fairly simple once you understand the basics. It’s a trick of the Dark and not many can accomplish it. For someone like Baehlon, this is impossible, but for a great mage like Myrddin, it would be as easy as lighting a torch.” He returned them to the garden and Taryn gasped. He explained how to use shadows and darkness to propel them through space. Physics wasn’t something Aelinae was concerned with, apparently. If she could get past that, the possibilities of what she could do would be limitless.
“If the Dark can manipulate space, and the Eleri time, it doesn’t seem fair the Light can move a storm.”
“Affecting the weather is only part of it, but your mother should be the one to explain it to you.”
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
“I believe we’ve done all we can for today. Let’s find your faerie and go for a ride.” He put his arm around her shoulder and they walked together inside the palace, discussing their travel plans for the next morning. As much as she hated to leave the solace of her uncle’s home and the glorious shower he’d installed just for her, they’d been in Paderau almost a fortnight and it was time. Time to face not just her future, but also her fears.
Taryn kept her voice neutral, but her excitement at returning to Talaith bubbled just under the surface. “You really shouldn’t spoil him so much, Uncle.”
Anje started to defend himself and laughed, a full-bellied chortle that captured Taryn in its gaiety. Everyone knew his spoiling wasn’t so much about Gian’s well-being as it was about making his niece happy.
Gian loved his pony, so much so he spent several bells grooming her until her hair shimmered in the sun. He plaited her mane and tail, adding colorful ribbons that twirled with each step. The transformation in Gian was startling. Gone was his shaggy, lice-ridden hair, replaced with shining copper curls cut short in the latest court fashion. With the abundance of food available, he gained enough weight that his bones didn’t protrude at wicked angles. Lords Aomori and Tinsley had taken Gian as their pet project, dressing him in Hayden’s childhood clothing and teaching him court manners.
They spoke in a kind of sign language they’d developed with the faerie. Each time Taryn watched the three of them from afar, she was more and more grateful to the young lords who were kind to Gian, gentle with him, and coaxing his trust in small measures.
By the time they were to leave Paderau, the three had formed a bond Taryn didn’t want broken. When she told the lords they would be accompanying them to Talaith, Gian’s hands flew in a flurry of excitement, matched only by Aomori and Tinsley’s elated replies.
The pace of their travels, with all the carts and carriages making the trip slow moving at best, chafed at Taryn. During the day, she distracted herself with lessons with the duke or riding beside Gian, learning his finger language. At night, she sat around the campfire, drinking with the other soldiers and listening to their songs and boastful tales, all the while missing her friends and betrothed.
By the time they crested the final hill before Talaith, Taryn was weary of the saddle and ready to stay in one place for more than a sennight. When she thought back, she realized with a shock she’d been either traveling or in a coma for much of the past six months. Her bed at the palace beckoned and she urged Nikosana forward.
The caravan wove its way through the city, with Taryn keeping an eye to the shadows. It wasn’t the threat of the assassin that made her heart beat against her chest in rapid succession, but the thought of seeing Rhoane. At that moment, combatting the assassin would’ve been easier to bear. Gian’s excited chatter in her mind didn’t help matters. When they first saw the shining spires of the palace in the distance, he’d shuddered at the immensity of the city.
The smile on his face as they rode through the palace gates set Taryn at ease. Certainly his clan wouldn’t recognize him now as he rode his pony proudly, looking every inch a lord. Gian gesticulated to the crowd awaiting their arrival in the courtyard. Taryn scanned the faces, smiling at her sisters and friends. Sabina bounced up and down, waving a scarf at her with Hayden standing tall beside her, inclining his head as she passed. Tessa ran alongside Nikosana, asking questions about the young boy who rode the pony.
She dismounted and kissed Tessa’s hair, holding her tightly. “I’ve missed you. How have you been?”
“Bored.” Her eyes drifted to Gian.
“If you must know, he is a woodland faerie I found on my adventures. He’s going to live with us for some time. His name is Gian.” Taryn called him over.
Tessa curtseyed low and introduced herself. Gian blushed crimson.
“He doesn’t speak words, Tessa. Lords Aomori and Tinsley have taught him sign language. Perhaps you would like to learn as well?”
Tessa linked her arm in Gian’s and Taryn nodded to him that it was okay. They were of a similar height, but Gian had none of the baby fat Tessa retained.
Her blonde curls bobbed as she nodded. “Of course, I will learn this language so that you and I can converse. You simply must tell me what it’s like to be a faerie. I was in the Narthvier, you know, for several weeks last summer and I saw all manner of creatures that enchanted me.” They strolled away and before Taryn knew it, she was enfolded in many sets of arms.
“We feared the worst when Prince Rhoane arrived without you. He told us you were in the Narthvier, but I sensed much darkness around you,” Sabina said in a low voice.
“I’m home now. There is nothing to worry about,” Taryn assured them. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen your faces. Let me look at you all.” She kissed each one and walked arm-in-arm with them toward the palace.
At the other end of the drive, the empress spoke with Duke Anje. Protocol probably dictated she should greet her mother, but Taryn was in no mood. Nor was she ready to face Marissa, who stood close to Lliandra’s side. A sneer slithered across her sister’s lips when their eyes met, a hidden challenge in their lavender depths. Taryn met the glare, then returned her attention to her friends. A blast of her sister’s ShantiMari pummeled against Taryn and she stumbled.
Hayden caught her. “You’ve been too long in the saddle, cousin. You’ve forgotten how to walk on solid ground.”
“At least I have you to catch my fall,” Taryn said, taking his hand in hers. A tightness to his smile upset her. When she turned to Sabina, the same constraint pinched her features. Something had happened between the pair, something upsetting enough to cause a divide. Tension rolled off them in waves, battering Taryn’s fragile senses.
She scanned the area for Rhoane, not finding him among the crowd. Eliahnna, always a little too perceptive, said in her quiet voice, “Prince Rhoane is not here. I’m sure if he knew you were to return today, he would’ve come home.”
“He’s gone? Where?”
“No one knows. He left one morning and hasn’t been heard from since.”
“It must be something important. I’ll see him when he returns.” She kept her voice casual, but her knees weakened and she swayed against Hayden. Sabina gave her a sharp look.
“Too long in the saddle?”
“Sure, let’s go with that,” Taryn said without much enthusiasm. “I’ve been dreaming of my lovely bed for far too long. I could sleep for a week.”
After settling Gian into his rooms a few floors below hers, she closed the door to her chamber and sighed with relief. She wanted nothing more than a few bells of rest before having to answer questions, explaining her absence. But first she braced herself for the onslaught of her maids.
They fussed o
ver her while asking about her travels. When she avoided answering them, they took the hint. Taryn inspected Ellie’s scar, relieved it wasn’t as hideous as her nightmares had shown. A thin white crescent ran the length of her face from temple to chin, almost beautiful in its symmetry.
“I’ve heard you stay hidden away in my rooms. Is this true?” Taryn asked.
“I find my tasks are better completed here, Your Highness. The other girls enjoy the duties that take them outside and so I defer to them on these matters,” Ellie answered.
“Yes, well, you can tell yourself that lie all you want, but you’re hiding, Ellie. We talked about this before I left Celyn Eryri. Now that I’m home, I want to see you walk with your head held high. With pride in your step.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “I have a friend I want you to meet. Until then, we’ll talk of this no more. I’ve been on the road too long and have missed your wonderful baths. Once I’m rested, we’ll resume our conversation.”
Ellie’s voice was tight, her curtsey stiff. “As you wish, Princess.”
Taryn sank into the hot water, feeling her weariness slip away. She dipped below the surface and silently let her tears of disappointment flow. She’d longed to see her betrothed. His absence could only mean he had abandoned her. The runes on her hand still glowed with their bonds, but she was disconnected from him. It tore at her heart with a savagery that left her wanting to shriek to the heavens. Instead, she vowed to keep her true emotions hidden.
Her maids dressed her in a fine silk gown and then arranged a tiara in her curls, all the while trading off telling her what had happened in the palace since she’d been gone. It was the usual gossip and intrigues that came with court life.
She half-listened as she sat in her favorite chair awaiting Gian, admiring the perfect stitches of her dress. Each had been placed with precision by Tarro’s competent fingers, and she imagined the care he took in making the gown for her. They truly cared for her, Tarro and her maids. The realization stunned her in the solar plexus, robbing her of breath.
The Temple of Ardyn (Song of the Swords Book 2) Page 33