Moth and Spark

by Anne Leonard

  At last, when Tam was beginning to seriously consider taking Corin’s offer and leaving regardless of what Cina thought, a deep bell was gonged. Feet stopped shuffling, voices quieted. Tam did not want to see what came next, to watch Corin be formal and powerful. Oh, you fool, she thought to herself.

  The ritual caught her anyway. She stared upward as everyone else did when the Lord Marshal was announced, the prince, the queen, the king. Talia stayed back. Tam heard someone mutter, “Not an engagement, then.” The queen wore a formal and ornate dark red gown. Both Corin and his father were robed but Corin was bareheaded. Aram was not. Instead of the heavily jeweled helmetlike affair that was a state crown he wore something simpler, closer to a coronet. It conveyed the gravity of the situation quite as well.

  Tam let Aram’s words roll over her without listening much. She heard enough to realize he spoke only of the Sarians with not a word about the Emperor. It was an omission that she understood, since Corin had told her that Hadon almost certainly wanted him dead, but it made her tense. She did not need Corin to know that without Mycene they were doomed. Nor could she be the only one there to realize that. What about Hadon? would be the first question on the lips of many. She was glad she would not have to answer that. It was not the only thing he was not saying, either.

  Most people were listening with quiet respect. Not much fear, which was a good thing. The glow and movement of light on the ceiling shifted and responded to Aram’s voice. She wondered if it was something he could control at will, choosing when to shadow his words and when to bare them to brightness. The people around her did not seem at all aware of it.

  She compared this king with the one she had seen two nights ago. He was more untouchable here; she would have controlled her imp and never dared to say the things she did if he had been like this then. If she had seen him like this first, she might have controlled her imp better around Corin as well. It was a far cry from the man who had given her a cup of tea and clapped her on the back. She shivered a little, realizing the extent of that familiarity. And trust.

  Twice her eyes met Corin’s. Neither of them held it. Both times she was intensely aware that he wanted her with him. He seemed as calm and poised as his father, sober but confident of victory. It was very well acted. The second time she saw the flame and shadow around him, the dragon shape, heat and light. They had possession of him. She shifted uneasily.

  Pain seized her, sharp and sudden, as though her whole body had been ripped open, and then was gone, lightning-fast. Sweat stood out on her brow, and her hands had gone white. Her mouth tasted metallic, like blood. She wiped her forehead and watched the color returning to her fingers. In some other world there had been an arrow, or an earthquake, or a spell, and the course of events diverged irrevocably from now. Black moths, colored sand. A cold dark thing trying to get out. Wings flapped, claws scratched. Urgency that was not quite panic filled her, and she looked up at Aram, imploring him to finish soon. Their eyes met but he gave no outward sign of having seen her and continued speaking.

  When the king ended his gaze swept the room evenly. He turned. It was over.

  People were moving around. Cina left through another door. Tam stepped into the corridor and showed the note and seal to a guard. He gave her directions.

  Even so, it took her a few minutes and she hoped she was not too late. The guards at the door to the robing room scrutinized both her and the seal much more carefully, and one took the note in while she waited. She decided it was an opportunity to practice looking dignified. The guard returned shortly, gave her back the note, and admitted her.

  Corin was waiting. His robe was off, and he looked like himself again. To Tam’s relief, Aram was already gone. Then she saw the queen. Her stomach sank.

  Corin held out his hand. Tam was tempted to hit him, but she took his hand instead. He squeezed it, smiled at her, and led her to the queen. She wasn’t just the queen, she was his mother, damn it, it would be impossible to please her.

  Now is not the time to fall apart, Tam thought. Corin let go of her and stepped back. When Talia met her eyes, she curtsied and said in a blessedly steady voice, “Your Majesty.”

  “Tam Warin,” the queen said. Her eyes were the same shape and color as Corin’s, though her hair was fair. She was a few inches shorter than Tam. She said, in a quite ordinary tone, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

  “Oh no,” Tam said, before she could stop herself.

  “All of it favorable, I might add.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  “The king is not easily impressed.”

  “I would hope he isn’t,” Tam said. Was she never going to learn?

  Talia laughed. Then, seriously, she said, “You were in the audience. How was the speech received?”

  This was a test. There would be no punishment if she failed, but Corin would be disappointed. She would not look at him for support, she would not. She straightened and said, choosing her words precisely, “I think the danger is well understood, but no one is terrified. But tomorrow, after people have had a chance to think it over and they really see the urgency, there are going to be a lot of questions.”

  “About what?”

  She remembered going with her father to treat people after fire tore through half a block of houses. The people who were uninjured sat on the street, staring numbly into the ruins of their homes, their lives forever altered. She said, “Most of them will be the usual questions. Where do we go, what do we do.” She hesitated, gambled. “But then they will start wondering why we are in this alone. And what else is there that they haven’t been told.”

  Talia nodded. “If you start to hear enough of those, let us know. Any of us, even Aram.” She looked past Tam to Corin. It was as though they were continuing a conversation they had started earlier. Then she said, “I won’t impose on my son’s patience any longer. But I do hope to speak with you again soon.”

  “Whenever you wish, my lady,” Tam said.

  “May I give you a piece of advice about the ball tonight?”

  “Of course.”

  “Drink plenty of water. It will help.” She walked past Tam, said to Corin, “Don’t be late,” and left the room.

  As soon as the door was shut, Tam turned on Corin and said, with more irritation than she meant in her voice, “You should have warned me.” It was better than she had expected, but all she could think of was what she should have done.

  “If I had warned you, you would have worried.”

  Sometimes she hated it when he was right. “Did I pass?”

  “Of course you did, love,” he said. “She likes you.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “She used my father’s name, not his title.” He drew her in and put his arms around her. His body felt good against hers. Passion roused in her, then settled. A faint smell of metal clung to him from the cloth of gold. It made her think of dragons. She wished she and Corin could vanish.

  “Corin,” she said, “something happened, or didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” He was plainly thinking of something else.

  “It was not here. I don’t know.” She had no words to describe what she had sensed while Aram spoke. There was a badness somewhere. She should not distract him from thinking about the war with her imaginings. “Why didn’t you cancel the ball?”

  “There’s nothing we can do, Tam, they may as well have their last pleasure. It will be different after the Sarians cross the border.” He kissed her. Then he added, somewhat grimly, “And you’re right. Once they start asking questions, nothing will get done. I need them to be distracted a while longer.”

  There it was, the hard side of him. She was going to have to get used to it.

  “How much time is there?”

  “Two or three weeks if the Sarians come by foot. Much less if they ride. We aren’t going to keep people here, b
ut I don’t want them to panic. They can start leaving tomorrow, peacefully. Except for the ones who would go east.”

  “What about me?”

  “I won’t send you away sooner than I have to. But when it’s time, you need to go.” He touched her cheek. “Tam, things are going to change for you after tonight. Especially with a declared war. Are you sure you want me to come with you?”

  “Things already have changed,” she said. “What difference does the war make?”

  “It’s going to drag you in. A thousand people are going to want to know if you know my secrets. Some will be curious, some will be spies. If I am with you during a war, they will know you are not a passing fancy. They may even try to get through you to my father. It could be horrible. I don’t want you to endure that needlessly.”

  The apprehension in her belly told her it could easily lead to a quarrel if she answered thoughtlessly now. “Is it better for you if we keep things as they are?”

  “It doesn’t weigh to one side or the other for me,” he said. “My duties won’t change. But I don’t want you to be between me and all the arrows coming. There will be a lot.”

  “I can manage,” she said. Alina’s jealousy seemed petty and far away now. But with a pang she realized how little time they had actually had together. “You’ve been in a rush all day, Corin, is it going to be better tomorrow?”

  “Unlikely. Why?”

  “You’ve told me what’s happened, but we haven’t really talked about it. Or how it plays out. I can take the questions and the gossip and the prying, but I might make a disastrous mistake if I don’t know more. I don’t know whom to trust or not. You can’t just keep warning me away from people.”

  “I’ll find you the time for that somehow. You deserve it. You need it.” He kissed her lightly. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ll come get you a little before time.”

  Time can trap you, she thought, wind around things as transparent as glass and strong as steel and before you know it you’re caught. Nothing moves. It mattered terribly but was unchangeable.

  She watched him walk away with a straight back and rapid pace. She suspected he was already thinking of something else. She wanted to run after him, to warn him of danger, but he knew as much as she did. She could do nothing but stay wary herself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Tam had eaten a light dinner when the maid arrived, with a quick curtsy and a statement that “Her Majesty would like me to help you with anything you need, my lady.” Tam’s experiences with someone dressing her in the past had been with foolish-seeming girls who chattered and gossiped endlessly, asking questions and never waiting for an answer, while they pulled strings and curled hair with efficient graceless force. This woman was young but otherwise entirely different; her voice was more educated, and her attention was absolute. She had brought scented soaps for Tam to use in bathing, stones to scrub off rough skin on her feet and hands, and handsome and strong hairpins. She adjusted stays and laces with such skill that Tam, who had worn the gown before, was stunned to see how differently she wore it now. The neckline was trimmed with a stiff and heavy brocaded silk that had chafed her skin in the past; the maid’s adjustments revealed that it was meant to stand up instead of lying flat, moving subtly with her breath to suggest fullness across the breasts. When the maid had finished with Tam’s hair there might have been two score pins in it, but Tam could not feel any of them, and her hair looked glossy and alive. Troublesome strands that could not be pinned up were curled to the perfect balance between girlishness and enticement. The maid reddened Tam’s lips and rouged her cheeks (Just a little, m’lady, you do have nice color already), lined her eyes at the outer corners, and added a little powder to the lids that was invisible when on but which changed the shape of her eyes to something more almond. When the maid held up the looking-glass, Tam saw a stranger, beautifully soft with a suggestion of alluring knowledge.

  “He’s not going to recognize me,” she said, feeling both slightly foolish and delighted.

  “He’s not going to be able to keep his eyes off you,” said the maid. “Nor will the other gentlemen, if I may say so.”

  “You’re a magician.”

  “There’s other girls I could work on for hours who I could never get to look like this,” she said wryly. “And they couldn’t wear a dress that simple at all.”

  Tam liked the gown and was glad that it was good enough. It was a shimmering sapphire-blue silk woven with contrasting threads to make it look gold when the light struck it a certain way. There were no crystals or lace trim. It had off-the-shoulder sleeves, a bodice and waist embroidered in thread of the same color, and a sweeping skirt cut at an angle to the weave, making the shifting colors of the silk a contrast to the darker-seeming bodice. The hems were all edged with seed pearls. It was light and comfortable, for a gown.

  She made sure her shoes were not too slick-soled or high-heeled for dancing, then thanked the maid and settled down to wait. It was close to time, but she was afraid to move much, lest something wrinkle or fall irreparably. For a while the hallway outside was loud with the voices of other women moving about, laughing. Briefly she considered joining them, but she thought she would be too easily rattled if she saw Alina. Jenet and the impending proposal could have the stage.

  Fortunately for her nerves, she did not wait long before a boy appeared and told her Corin was ready. She followed him out of the wing, passing several waiting gentlemen, who stared, to a small side chamber not far away.

  “My God. Look at you.” He came forward and kissed her, quite lightly, obviously wanting to avoid smearing the lip color. “I have something for you. And it’s a loan, not a gift, so don’t get all prideful and refuse to wear it.”

  It was a diamond necklace, each stone as clear and colorless and sparkling as a diamond could be. She stood still while he clasped it around her neck.

  “I’m really allowed to wear this?” she asked. “It’s not a royal heirloom reserved for state occasions?”

  “It’s not,” he said. “It was a gift to my sister Mari from a suitor she later rejected. He refused to take it back. My sisters and mother pass it back and forth between them. Mother suggested you wear it.”

  “I take it I passed highly,” she said. “Are you ready? I thought you would be longer coming.”

  “I’m going to shock everyone by being early,” he said. “Unless you want to vanish with me into an empty room and keep me there long enough to preserve my reputation? They can’t start without me.” His forefinger slipped under the edge of her gown.

  She pulled it out. “You have to wait, my lord,” she said primly. “Who are you going to open with?”

  He took her arm as they left the room. “Should I leave you guessing? You still have time to place a few bets. Not you, don’t worry. You should dance with whomever you wish.”

  “Tell me. Then I won’t hate her at once.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to open.”

  “I don’t. That doesn’t mean I want someone else to. It’s all right, Corin, I’m not really going to hate anyone.” She squeezed his arm.

  “Well, in this case I most certainly don’t want you to. It couldn’t be better,” he said. “Mari arrived late this afternoon. I’ll dance with her, and no woman can feel that I’ve passed her over for some more beautiful potential bride.”

  “But wasn’t she—isn’t she—her husband—”

  He understood. “She told me it was better than sitting alone and thinking. He’s not far behind her.”

  “You’re sure?” She did not think she could dance with anyone, even her brother, if she were in that situation, wondering where her husband was, when he would come, if he was safe.

  “It was her idea.”

  She felt more grateful than she should have at the thought that no one would wonder if he meant anything by his choice. It sent a signal that he did not wan
t to honor any woman there, but it could not offend them or provoke them to come second place to his sister. “You should do that for every ball,” she said. “Keep yourself away from the battlefield.”

  “You do have little faith in your own fair sex. Where did you acquire this belief that all women are armed to the tooth against each other?”

  “They aren’t, all the time. But when the stakes are high enough they are, and how could the stakes be higher than here? Don’t tell me you don’t know that.”

  “I’ve taken myself out of the game,” he said, a bit fiercely. “There’s only you.”

  Oh, love, she thought, the game goes on, I can’t drop out that easily and neither can you. “Who is Seana?” It slipped out, a childish question, one that should have turned to ash with what he had just said. She was ashamed of herself.

  “A mistake,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “For several reasons. She came to me the night I returned from the north, and I sent her away. Don’t be jealous.”

  “I’m not,” she said, though it was not entirely true. He was done with the woman, it was obvious, but she envied the past. “Why didn’t you tell me?” To her relief, her tone was only mildly curious.

  “I suppose I assumed you knew. Most everyone does. They probably know I sent her away, too. It’s nothing you should concern yourself with, she isn’t the type to be vengeful. If she’s there tonight she’ll be civilized. I’m not proud of it, but there’s no reason it needs to dog either of us. It’s over.” He pressed her hand.

  Tam glanced around. They were alone. She stopped him long enough to kiss him. Then she had to find a handkerchief to wipe the color off his lips, and he had to dab at the skin around her mouth. The suggestion of an empty room was tempting, but she was afraid that if she said it neither of them would stop the other, which really should not happen. She realized, surprised, that she was happy.