by Sharon Shinn
“She wasn’t with us.”
Senneth’s chin came up. “You were alone with the princess? How did that happen?”
“Like you said. Valri met Ellynor and suddenly they were talking about family and friends. It was obvious they had a lot to discuss. So, Amalie and I left the room and then—we just—ended up spending the rest of the day together.”
“I think perhaps I should be filled with foreboding. What else happened?”
“Well, the bit with the raelynx made me forget it for a while, but before that there was something else that seemed strange. I was thinking something, and she heard me.”
“We can all do that,” Senneth said.
“I wasn’t trying to send her a message. She just picked it up out of my head.”
From what he could see in the dark, Senneth’s face looked exceptionally grave. “What are you saying?”
“She could hear my thoughts—”
“What’s the conclusion you’ve reached based on these two separate events?” Senneth interrupted. Her mind was a swirl of confusion and dread—and a certain sense of bitter fatalism. I have feared this for so long.…“Are you saying you think she’s a reader? A mystic?”
They were absolutely alone on an unwatched pathway under the hard stars, and yet both of them glanced around uneasily as if to search out eavesdroppers. Then they drew closer together so they could lower their voices even more.
“Senneth—I don’t know. But I’ve never seen anyone who wasn’t a mystic even attempt to control a raelynx. And I’ve never had anyone go into my mind and look around without my knowledge. Jerril can step inside, but he has to knock, and I always know he’s there.”
“Bright Mother burn me in ashes to the ground,” Senneth whispered and shut her eyes. Although she stood absolutely motionless, Cammon felt her regroup, readjust, brace her shoulders for the acquisition of this new burden. “I have hoped so hard that this wasn’t true.”
“You mean, you suspected it?” he demanded. “You never let on! Ever!”
She shrugged. “It’s the one thing that makes all the pieces fit—particularly once it became clear that Valri is from the Lirrens. If Amalie’s a mystic, Baryn has had every reason to keep her secluded in the palace all her life. If she’s a mystic, Pella had a strong incentive to travel to the Lirrens when she knew she was dying. The queen wasn’t looking for a healer to save her own life, but for someone like Valri who would be willing to wrap Amalie in darkness and keep her safe.”
“Was Pella a mystic, too?”
Senneth started pacing forward, and Cammon followed her. “I never heard such a rumor. But magic follows bloodlines, so it had to come from the Merrenstow side—since no one has ever called Baryn a mystic, and surely after sixty-five years someone would have mentioned it.”
“Then, if it’s true, the regent knows of it,” Cammon said. “Amalie said she spent a lot of time at Romar Brendyn’s estate when she was growing up.”
Senneth nodded. “But that makes sense, too. That’s just another reason Romar was an excellent choice to name as regent. He would know what else to protect her from. Such as accusations of sorcery.”
“It might not be true.”
She glanced at him but kept striding forward. “So. You spent the day with her, and Valri was nowhere in sight. Could you read the princess without the Lirren magic to blind you?”
He was silent a moment. “I could have,” he said quietly. “I could tell her mind was open and full of wonder. But I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to look inside. It just seemed—unfair. Wrong.”
Senneth snorted. “So now you can’t answer the question we are both dying to know! A mighty inconvenient time to have scruples, wouldn’t you say?”
“Senneth, I didn’t sense magic on her, if that’s what you want to know. Maybe that’s why I was so surprised when she could read my mind. Every mystic I’ve ever met has just been caked in magic—it’s like a glow or a scent—I can instantly tell it’s there. But I didn’t pick that up from Amalie. If she has sorcery, it’s buried.”
Senneth walked on a few more moments in silence. By now they were almost to the wall that surrounded the compound; soon they would be intersecting with the nightly patrol of guards. Senneth angled her direction a little so that they followed a path parallel to the wall but a few yards away. “You can’t read magic on Ellynor or Valri, either.”
“Right. Which is why I wondered if Amalie had Lirren blood.”
“It just seems impossible. You know how rarely the Lirrenfolk breed with outsiders.”
“There’s Ellynor. There’s Valri. There’s Heffel Coravann’s wife,” he reminded her. “We know of three marriages between Lirren women and men from Gillengaria. So it’s not like it’s never happened. Maybe Pella’s mother crossed the Lireth Mountains when she was a girl. Maybe she fell in love with a Lirren boy and came back carrying his child. Maybe not even Romar or the king know how Amalie got her magic—they just know she has it. If she has it.”
“If she has it,” Senneth echoed. “Maybe we’re wrong.”
“I don’t think I can just ask her.”
“No, and I can’t ask the king, much as I’d like to. But, Cammon, you can’t repeat this to a soul.”
“Not even the others?” he said. It was unnecessary to list them. She knew who he meant.
She looked troubled. “I don’t know. I’ll have to tell Tayse, and he’ll surely tell Justin. And I can’t not tell Kirra. And what Kirra knows—well, I suppose all of us will know it by sunrise tomorrow.” She gave him a serious look, which, in the darkness, he felt more than saw. “But no one else, Cammon. No one. If this secret comes out—”
“I know,” he said, feeling somber and afraid as he never had in all his existence. “Amalie could be in the greatest danger of her life.”
HE made his way slowly back across the palace grounds, lost in thought. At this hour, every door was guarded, so even at the kitchen he had to pass a sentry. But that was a good thing, he thought. Let there be soldiers at every door, mystics at every window, dogs and even raelynxes loose in the yard, prowling around, patrolling for interlopers. Let the king invoke every possible measure to keep the princess safe. Cammon was starting to lose the confidence that it was a task he could accomplish on his own.
He could tell, as he made his way up the great stairway to his room, that there were still a couple dozen people scattered throughout the large building who were not yet sleeping. Some were servants, some were soldiers, some were restless souls unable to close their eyes. It gave him a vague sense of comfort to know that part of the world was awake around him. They might all be strangers, but he was not alone.
He pushed open the door to his room and realized with a shock that he still was not alone.
“Valri,” he said, for the little queen stood in the middle of the room like a marble statue intended, one day, for the royal sculpture garden. She had not bothered to light a candle. Child of the night goddess, she clearly did not need aid to see in the dark. Only a wavering sconce in the hallway provided enough light for him to identify her.
His own magic had failed him; he had had utterly no idea of her presence.
When she spoke, her voice was hard and angry. “Stay away from the princess when I am not there to chaperone you.”
He was instantly antagonized and made no attempt to hide it. “I would never do anything to harm her. You don’t need to worry.”
“She is the heir to the realm! She cannot be allowed to wander off alone with any man! Her reputation is as precious as her life.”
“Then you have a strange idea of what’s precious,” he shot back.
“I think I am better qualified to judge what’s important to Amalie than you are.”
“And are you better qualified than she is?” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He was angry, a state so rare for him that he almost didn’t know what to do or say next. Calm. Senneth would advise him to
be calm. Slow down the hot words, bargain for a little time. “Let me light some candles,” he said. “I can’t even see your face.”
He considered closing the door, since she might not want an audience for the conversation, but it probably wasn’t good for the queen’s reputation for her to be alone with other men, either, so he didn’t. The candles cast some measure of familiarity back into the room, and he was more serene when he faced Valri again.
“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” he said in a quiet voice. “You know I won’t hurt the princess. You know that no one regards me as anything more than a servant. I’m not a danger to Amalie or her reputation.”
“You’re the most dangerous man in the city,” Valri said deliberately.
“I have no idea why you would say that.”
Valri came a step closer. Even in this poor light, her eyes were a spectacular green. “Amalie has so few friends—friends, people her own age. None, in fact. Me. And I am hardly anyone’s definition of a playmate.” She took a deep breath. “And now she has you. And you are exactly the kind of person a lonely girl would take to heart. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re thoughtful, you have wonderful stories to tell, you’ll do anything she asks, and you don’t particularly care about rules because most of the time you don’t even know what the rules are. And, oh, yes, you’re a young man who is not terrible to look at, and who doesn’t covet her throne, and who has been brought into her life specifically to protect her from danger! What do I think you’re going to do? I think you’re going to make her fall in love with you!”
In the following second, Cammon had three radically different yet fully formed thoughts that all managed to occupy his mind simultaneously.
The first one: Valri’s lying. This isn’t the real reason she’s afraid of me.
The second one: Me? Amalie could fall in love with me?
The third one: Bright Mother burn me, I could so easily fall in love with Amalie.
“Majesty,” he said, and his voice perfectly conveyed his sense of shock, “you simply can’t be serious.”
She came closer, and now she frowned and shook her finger at him as if he was an erring schoolboy. “She must marry a high-born noble! You know that! She knows that! It will be a marriage of convenience and, like as not, marked by politeness instead of passion. You can’t distract her by being funny and charming and sweet. You can’t show her something she cannot have when she must have something else.”
A fourth thought intruded: Valri thinks I’m funny and charming and sweet? “Do you want me to leave the palace?” he asked.
“No! Of course not! We are relying on you and your wretched magic for too many reasons. You have saved the king’s life twice and perhaps you will save Amalie’s, and I pray to the Great Mother that you will be able to ensure that the husband she picks will offer her a warm heart instead of a cold ambition. You must stay. But you must keep your distance from Amalie. Cammon, you must.”
He felt resentful and aggrieved—and just a tiny bit smug, for Valri could not stop him from communicating with Amalie silently even if he had to sit in her presence poker-faced and mute from now until the wedding bells were sounded. And still, under all of that, he remained astonished. She thinks Amalie could fall in love with me?
“I don’t know what you want me to promise,” he said, and even to himself his voice sounded sulky. “If I am cool and unfriendly to her, Amalie will make a scene—you know she will. But if I act the way I have always acted, you will say I am—I am—I don’t know what you think I’m doing! Ingratiating myself, I suppose. I never set out to do that. I never set out to do anything except just be here like I was asked.”
“One thing I do not expect is for you to spend whole days alone with her. If I am not present, you should not be present, either.”
He spread his hands. How could he argue? “If that’s what you want.”
“And—and—you should not think to spend every morning with her, lounging in the parlor and telling her stories.”
“I’ll stay away, but she’ll ask me about it, and she’ll insist on an explanation.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
He shrugged. “Then fine. I’ll keep my distance. You won’t have cause to complain about me again.”
Valri nodded once, decisively, as if she was feeling confident and satisfied. But he could tell that she was still distressed, still terrified that something would happen to Amalie and that he would be the cause of it. What are you really afraid of? he wanted to ask her. What truth are you trying to conceal from me by shielding Amalie’s mind with your own?
“Very well,” she said. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon when another one of her suitors comes calling.”
“I’ll meet you by the receiving room.”
She nodded again. “Good night. I’m glad you’re willing to be reasonable.”
She left the room, shutting the door behind her. He stared at it for a long time, wishing he had had the nerve to ask the question he knew she would not answer.
Is Amalie a mystic?
CHAPTER
14
THERE was no real need to supervise Amalie’s meeting the next day, for her suitor was Darryn Rappengrass. His mother, Ariane, was one of Baryn’s staunchest allies, and Kirra had always considered Darryn the best of the serramar. There was no chance he would suddenly pull a blade and try to slit Amalie’s throat. Still, two Riders posed behind the false wall, ready to stop him if he tried.
There was no need for Cammon and Valri to listen in to his courting, but of course they did.
They sat rather stiffly on either side of the card table, hardly on the best of terms after last night’s confrontation. Cammon found it difficult to hold a grudge, so he picked up the deck of cards and silently offered to deal. Valri hesitated, then nodded. They were into their second hand when the princess and her visitor entered and settled in for conversation.
At first it was all very superficial, talk about the weather and the roads. Cammon was surprised as everyone else when Amalie said, “So, ser Darryn, tell me! Why are you here?”
Darryn did not allow himself to be nonplussed. He was easygoing and polished, well able to handle himself in any social situation, but Cammon read nothing but good will behind his assured exterior. “I suppose I can’t be the first Twelfth House lord to call on you in the past few weeks. I expect you realize we’ve all come courting.”
“But not you,” Amalie said, calm as always. “You’re betrothed to another girl.”
Everyone in the room was astonished at that—Cammon, Valri, the Riders—but Darryn Rappengrass most of all. Cammon could feel his swift, confused reactions: amazement, respect, uncertainty, and a growing desire to tell the truth. “Not betrothed, exactly,” he replied in a slow voice. “But I admit I am in love with her and I hope to marry her.”
Valri dropped her cards and stared in impotent fury at the thin wall separating them. Cammon had to smother a grin. Surely it was unimaginably rude to tell a princess you preferred another woman.
Amalie, however, did not seem at all distressed. “So, you see I am going to resist any inclination I might have to fall in love with you myself,” she said.
Darryn laughed, still a little dazed. “But who has been gossiping with the princess of the realm? Where did you learn this news?”
“Kirra Danalustrous told me.”
Valri looked at Cammon and rolled her eyes. Of course, she mouthed.
“And how does she know?” Darryn asked. “I suppose she got the information from my mother, who is ready to disown me. In fact, the only way I can win myself back into her good graces is to tell her you’ve agreed to be my bride.”
Amalie sounded interested. “So you truly would propose to me, even though your affection was somewhere else? Wouldn’t that be risky? What if I accepted?”
Darryn was suddenly all seriousness. “No, Majesty. I planned to come to you, and flirt awhile, and speak of the long-standing bond betw
een Ghosenhall and Rappen Manor. I wouldn’t have proposed, but I would have tried to make you enjoy our time together so that you would think of me kindly. And then I would have left and gone back to the arms of the girl I love. All the while hoping, of course, that some worthwhile and sincere young lord had already come calling and won a place in your heart.”
“Well, I would much rather you were truthful with me from the outset,” she said. “No pretending!”
Valri flung her hands wide in the air as if to say, The whole world survives on lies and this girl insists on the truth. But her anger seemed to have faded a little, and she picked up her cards again.
“I will remember that for the future,” Darryn said. “I still hope there will be ongoing friendship between the palace and Rappen Manor. We will pledge now to always be honest with each other, and thereby save a great deal of time.”
Amalie must have raised her drink in a toast, for there was a slight clinking sound as if two glasses had been touched together. “I will agree to that,” she said. “Now tell me about this girl you love. Is she noble-born?”
“No. Yet another reason my mother is displeased with me.”
Valri nodded emphatically at the wall. Cammon had to choke back another laugh.
“How did you meet her?” Amalie wanted to know.
There was a rustling sound, as if Darryn had leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, preparing to get comfortable. “Oh, now, that’s an adventurous tale,” he said. “I rescued her on the road—and a few weeks later, she repaid the favor.”
So all of them spent the next half hour listening to the story of Darryn Rappengrass’s romance with a young vagabond girl. Cammon was inclined to think the girl pretty lucky—Darryn just radiated happiness when he talked about her. If Cammon were ever called on to testify about the serramar’s affection, he would have to call it genuine.
“Of course you’ll join us for dinner,” Amalie said as their visit wound down. “And perhaps stay a day or so?”