Blood Song: The First Book of Lharmell

by Rhiannon Hart

  ‘I’ve met men. I nearly married one. Don’t you remember?’ I turned my head this way and that, admiring the sparkling clips in the mirror. I often felt detached from the whole affair of dressing for dinner and parties, as if I were a doll, but I found tonight was different. I wanted to do justice to the dress. It was strapless, the bodice peacock-blue and edged in gold, full skirted at the front and gathered into an elaborate, foaming bustle of satin and peacock feathers at the back. I insisted that every inch of bare skin was powdered with gold: my shoulders, décolletage, and the lower part of my face. The golden mask would cover my eyes, and my lips were painted with more gold. I carried a golden fan that, when it was opened, revealed hundreds of eyes and looked exactly like a peacock’s tail. It belonged to Queen Ulah, and she’d insisted I borrow it when she heard about my costume. I opened it and practised fluttering it coquettishly.

  Renata wasn’t amused by my comment. ‘How could I forget, Daughter? You were a cat’s whisker away from life as a politician’s wife.’ She said this as if it were the most loathsome thing in the world. I remembered how she treated her own politicians: like something to be scraped off a shoe. ‘Amis’s aunts have some unmarried sons. Prince Phillip sounds like a very sweet young man. Calli and I will introduce you tonight.’

  ‘I’m not marrying a Pergamian,’ I insisted. It would be too close to Lharmell for my comfort.

  Renata fastened on my mask and stepped back to look at me. ‘Turn, darling, turn.’

  I turned, and all the gold dust and jewels sparkled in the candlelight. The dress made pleasant swishing sounds on the floor.

  ‘I don’t like to say this about my own daughter as it’s rather conceited of me, but you are stunning.’ She frowned. ‘So why is it crying? The mask, I mean.’

  I looked in the mirror at the glittering tears that the bird, that I, was shedding. ‘Because it’s sad?’

  Renata’s frown deepened. ‘You’d better stay far away from that Rodden Lothskorn tonight. I don’t want you near him.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘Because he’s in love with you. Now, come on. Let’s go and find this prince.’ Renata pulled her own black mask over her eyes and we made our way to the ballroom.

  I allowed myself a secret smile. Now that Rodden was forbidden to see me, he was sure to turn up. I don’t know why I should care if he was there or not. But it would be an awful pity if he missed seeing the dress.

  The great hall was a heaving, swirling, mad rush of colours and unfamiliar people. The chandeliers had been lowered to just above the reach of the dancers and the walls had been strung with gold ribbons and baubles. The alacrity with which the Pergamians were able to throw party after party amazed me.

  I had my fan open and fluttering the minute I stepped into the room; it was incredibly hot. As we moved through the anonymous mass of people, first a poodle, then a seahorse, and then some sort of bird of paradise screeched my name and kissed me. They must have recognised me from the archery tournament, but I had no idea who they were or how they knew me in my costume. A clutch of pretty swans waved to me, and I thought perhaps they were the teenage girls who’d smiled shyly at me as they’d taken their marks at the tournament.

  I suddenly felt like the guest of honour after all. I was quite pleased with myself for having made such an impression in less than a fortnight.

  ‘Yoo-hoo! Renata! Over here.’ It was Calli, standing at the refreshments table. She held a napkin in her palm loaded with canapés. Next to her stood a young man in white satin with a mass of cotton wool on his head. When he saw me he gasped and clutched my hand.

  ‘My dear, you look absolutely gorgeous.’

  ‘Thank you, ah . . . Phillip?’

  ‘Yes, Princess, this is my son,’ Calli interjected. ‘Doesn’t he look adorable?’

  I looked at the man again, wondering what he could be. ‘Whipped cream?’ I guessed.

  ‘He’s a cloud, silly! A cloud!’ screeched Calli, and her pink tiered dress bounced up and down. She, it seemed, was dressed as a cake.

  ‘Phillip, why don’t you get Zeraphina some punch and take her out on the terrace?’ suggested Renata.

  I didn’t want punch on the terrace, I wanted to stay right where I was and play spot the harming. But Renata gave me a hard look, so I accepted the cup and Phillip’s arm and we made our way outside where it was blissfully cool.

  ‘The cloud thing was Mother’s idea. I wanted to be a stallion but she thought I didn’t have the figure for it.’

  He was a tiny bit plump, but it was nothing a horse costume wouldn’t cover. ‘Oh, I didn’t choose my costume either,’ I said airily. I took a big gulp of punch. It was very good indeed. Some sort of exotic fruit mixture, I guessed. I drained the glass.

  ‘Yes, but yours is perfect.’ He was looking through the windows to the dance floor, but the gauzy curtains made it very hard to make anyone out.

  ‘Looking for someone?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, a snake and an ostrich. They’re my friends, Corrin and Windsor. You’ll have to meet them, they’re such fun.’ He noticed my empty glass. ‘Like another?’

  ‘Please.’

  As he went I saw him do a double take on a man dressed in a bullfighter’s costume, and then give a blacksmith an admiring glance. It occurred to me that perhaps Phillip liked men in the way that girls liked men. Calli and Renata would be disappointed. All the matchmaking in the world wasn’t going to do me any good with Phillip.

  When he came back I decided to get things moving. I greedily drank half my punch and said, quite loudly, ‘So, have you noticed how many bats there are around here?’ This sounded like a Dangerous Conversation, and I waited for a dark-haired man to spring out of nowhere and start berating me.

  ‘Why are you shouting? No, can’t say that I have. Tell me about the tournament,’ he said, eyes aglow. ‘It was so thrilling. What’s this Lothskorn fellow really like?’

  ‘Arrogant. And a bit of a jerk,’ I said, and he looked crestfallen. ‘Phillip, don’t take this the wrong way, but do you like . . . men?’

  He looked around us and said softly, ‘I rather have to say that I do, but don’t tell Mother, eh?’ Through his mask I saw him wink. He elbowed me. ‘Dreadfully disappointed, aren’t you, that you won’t be spending the rest of your life married to a cloud? Now, come on, you have to tell me. Who do you really like?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘The Earl of Federna.’ He was the large man that Calli had professed to admire at the tea party in Rupa’s suite.

  Phillip looked at me, stricken with horror. Then he started to laugh. ‘You had me for a second there! Oh, you had me! Nice deflection, but I know who you –’

  I downed the rest of my punch. ‘I might just get some more,’ I said, waving my glass.

  ‘He’s not by the refreshments. I already checked for you.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I called over my shoulder.

  Drat. Why did everybody think they knew all about me just because of some silly competition? I refilled my punch glass and stood in a corner, sipping it. It really was very good punch. I finished the glass and started to feel a bit light-headed. It must have been the heat. I brandished my fan and started flapping it in my face. My eyes scanned the crowd, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. Then an ostrich flounced by and I guessed that it was Corrin. Or Windsor.

  On an impulse I stepped straight into the dancers and let them carry me off, moving with their tide like a grain of sand on the beach. There were no rigid rows tonight. The musicians were playing some sort of waltz and people danced in pairs or groups or simply moved around erratic- ally, laughing at nothing that I could see. As I moved deeper into the crowd the costumes became more and more grotesque. There was a weasel and a great clawed badger and strange things with long curved noses. A coven of witches cackled and waved their pointed yellow fingernails in the air. I was shoved this way and that by a bevy of court jesters doing some sort of coordinated tumbling routine in the tight space.
Heat rose in my cheeks and I felt woozy. I wanted to get out – out into the fresh air where I could breathe again. But I was trapped in a mass of people and I couldn’t move and I was hot but there wasn’t enough room to use my fan and I was being pushed and pulled around by the heaving bodies and people kept screeching and saying my name over and over and I wished they would stop and –

  Zeraphina.

  And I knew that not-voice. I felt hands on my waist and they turned me, and I was looking up at a dark-haired man in a golden mask with a beak, and he was wearing a peacock-blue jacket.

  ‘I was told you were at the refreshments table,’ he said.

  My vision cleared, and it was like we were the only people for miles around. All sound and movement fell away as I looked into his blue eyes behind his mask. ‘Who said that?’

  ‘A little cloud you ditched.’ He took my hand, held it aloft and turned me slowly. I looked back at him over my shoulder, a smile curving my golden lips. My skirts brushed against his legs as I completed the turn.

  ‘Very nice,’ he murmured when I was looking up at him again. His hands found my waist again, as if he was holding me apart from the mêlée around us.

  ‘My mother says only male peacocks are blue. The girls are brown.’

  ‘Would you rather have a brown dress?’

  I hiccupped.

  ‘Have you been drinking the punch?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, three glasses.’

  ‘Don’t have any more.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because now that a weasel, a snake and a swan have been at it, it’s more rum than anything else.’

  ‘A little swan, too? And I thought they were such nice girls.’

  ‘Do you want to sit down?’

  I didn’t feel hot any more, or out of breath. And I didn’t want him to let go of me or the world might slide out of control again. ‘No!’ I said, a little too loudly. ‘I want to dance.’

  He slid a hand to the small of my back and took one of mine in his, and we were off, whirling with the others. The chandeliers spun overhead. I was smiling, my feet somehow knowing the unfamiliar but simple steps. Now this was a dance. My cheek just grazed the shoulder of his dark blue jacket. The punch made me bold, and instead of ducking my head I held his steady blue gaze. We danced on and on, until finally the last strains of music died away.

  We came to a stop in a darkened alcove, and though we were hemmed in by the crowd, it seemed as though we were completely alone. His hands were on my waist again, gripping tightly. He stood close, and I tipped my head back so I could look up at him. I saw his eyes drop to my gold-painted mouth, and my breath caught in my throat.

  Zeraphina . . .

  His voice had no earthly sound. I felt as if I knew him as well as I knew myself. I recognised something within him. I remembered Amis’s vows. Because deep down, we’re the same . . .

  His hands slid to caress my back. I felt a sweet-sharp tug on my insides. He must have felt it too as his eyes flared in response. And then his mouth descended on mine. I fell into the kiss, my hands smoothing up his chest. In my mind’s eye I saw a blazing thread running between us, taut and humming. I not only saw it, but felt it and heard it, too; it hummed on a sweet frequency, like the yearning notes of a violin.

  He pulled back and looked at me in astonishment, his lips parted. Then his eyes dropped to my neck, curved and exposed. We were breathing heavily and I felt his breath on my bare shoulders.

  He ducked his head and I felt his lips just graze my throat. I was drunk not on the punch now, but intoxicated by his nearness.

  A thought brushed the edge of my consciousness with frantic, beating wings, and I frowned slightly. Was there something I was forgetting?

  Because deep down, we’re the same . . .

  I felt his breath again on my throat, and the gentleness of his lips became a hard pressure.

  The warmth that radiated through my body condensed suddenly, becoming a cold, hard mass of fear.

  He’s going to bite me!

  My eyes snapped open. The spell cast by the evening and the dress suddenly fell away. What was I doing, kissing a man who’d proved again and again that he was not to be trusted. I’d forgotten everything, just like he wanted me to.

  I tried to pull myself from his grasp, but his hands help me tightly. ‘Let go of me!’ I cried, and remembered the heavy gold fan that dangled from one wrist. I gripped it, and landed a thwack on his hands. His grip loosened momentarily and I pulled away. I fought to find a way out of the pressing bodies, knowing he was behind me, chasing me. But I was faster, nipping through narrow gaps in the crowd before he could even spot them. I fled the hall, tearing down corridors and quickly losing myself in unfamiliar turns. I could hear him calling my name, his pounding feet. A door, I needed a door in a stone wall. I needed to get away. I finally found a stairwell and tore up it. And then suddenly I was out in the night and under the stars.

  I held my breath for a moment, straining for the sound of running feet, but heard nothing. I slumped in relief. A breeze started to blow and I lifted my arms, grateful for the cool air as I was perspiring in my gown. The parapet was spinning so I closed my eyes. I heard a snatch of music and thought the musicians had started up again.

  There was a beating sound in the air and a sharp clack like the one Griffin’s talons made when she landed on stone.

  The music wasn’t coming from the great hall. It was floating on the wind; haunting and pain- fully sweet.

  I opened my eyes. I could just make out a large, dark shape.

  Griffin? What have you done to yourself?

  It looked a lot like Griffin, except this bird stood half as tall as me again. The moon came out and I saw it towering over me; it had the lethal curved beak, sooty feathers and powerful talons of a bird of prey. If I wasn’t used to being around eagles I might have had hysterics. But I knew what to be afraid of, and it wasn’t a bird. It was a dark-haired, slippery trickster who was after my blood. As I approached, the bird crouched down and I saw that it wore a bridle of sorts, and a saddle was nestled between its wings.

  I heard the pounding of footsteps, quickly ascending. He’d found me. Rodden would be out that door at any moment. There was nowhere to run except along the parapet, and I knew he would soon catch me if it came down to an all-out sprint.

  I looked at the monstrous eagle crouched down before me. It regarded me with an impatient glassy stare that seemed to say, On or off? I haven’t got all night.

  From within the stairwell, somewhat muffled, I heard my name being called. I had about three seconds until Rodden would be on the parapet. Three seconds was how long it took me to scramble onto the bird’s back, grab the reins, and for it to launch itself into the sky.

  Rodden’s not-voice yowled my name in anguish and I felt a painful yank, as if a cord attached to my insides had been snagged.

  The bird was climbing rapidly. Once we were a hundred feet off the ground I had to shut my eyes because of the wind and because the drop terrified me. A shudder went through the bird as if it had stumbled mid-air and I felt another painful yank on my insides.

  We levelled off and flew straight. I dared a peek, wondering if from this height we would be face-to-face with the moon. But no, there it was by my left shoulder, still higher in the sky than me. I dared not look at the ground, and I shut my eyes tightly again because they had started to stream in the wind. It was freezing and I huddled close to the bird’s back, burying my hands in its thick feathers.

  It did occur to me to worry where I was being taken, but I had an inherent trust in birds of prey, and by then we were descending in long, lazy circles. I wondered how far we’d come. To the beach I’d ridden to the day before the tournament? It couldn’t have been far as we’d been airborne for such a short time. We landed with a jolt, and with legs like jelly I half-dismounted, half-fell onto the dusty ground. I threw my palms back to brace against the fall, and a searing pain flared where my skin touched the dirt. I scrambled up and fu
riously rubbed my hands against my skirt, and then stared at them in the dim light. It was too dark to see but I was sure they had been burned. While I was examining my hands the bird flapped its wings and took off.

  ‘Hey, wait!’ I called, reaching to it in vain. It was already becoming a speck in the sky.

  Drat. It was going to be a long walk back to the palace. Now, which way? The circling descent had muddled my sense of direction. I stood still, listening for the sea, but the place was eerily quiet. I must be in the forest just before the sea then, the one I’d ridden through on the horse that day. There were trees on all sides so I couldn’t get a look at the horizon. The ground had a slight gradient, and I reasoned that, being the lowest point of the landscape, the sea must lie downhill. This meant the palace, being in the opposite direction to the sea, would be uphill. I was quite pleased with myself for figuring it out.

  I found something that might be a path and started walking up the slope. It was freezing cold and I was losing a lot of heat from my shoulders so I pulled the top skirt of the dress up and over myself like a cloak. That was a little better, but now my legs were getting cold as they were only protected by thin petticoats. I would just have to tough it out for the hour or so that it took me to reach the palace limits.

  To keep warm, I thought of all the things I was going to say to Rodden when I saw him: that he was a horrid trickster and an arrogant jerk and not to worry, I was getting in that carriage because the thought of seeing his sneering, smug face ever again made my blood boil. I wished I had seen his face as the bird had launched itself into the air. What a hoot!

  Still chuckling to myself, I looked around and for the first time I noticed that something was wrong. The trees were barren. There was no grass or shrubs, either. Just dust. I reached down and touched the ground with my finger, and again a stinging pain shot through my arm. I wiped the finger on my petticoat. That was very odd, and inconvenient as well as my shoes were starting to pinch. Walking barefoot over this ground would be like walking over hot coals. I cast my mind back to the day I’d ridden through here, and I distinctly remembered a lot of greenery, on both the trees and the ground. I was obviously in a different part of the forest. A dead part. I hoped I would get out of it soon, as it was a hellish place. There was no sound except for my own breathing, which was getting louder and louder in my ears. I wished a possum would rattle some branches or an owl would hoot, just to reassure me that the place wasn’t entirely dead. Because it definitely felt as if it was.