The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses)

by Shinn, Sharon

  Milo didn’t even glance down. “Of course, serra.”

  “If he causes any disturbance, in the kitchen or elsewhere, let me know and I’ll confine him to my room,” she added. That was for Donnal’s benefit. She kept her face serious, though it was an effort not to laugh.

  “I’m sure he’ll be no trouble, serra.”

  He showed Melly the various features of the room, then bowed to Kirra again at the door. “The king asked me to tell you he would be happy for a private conference with you, once you were settled in,” he said. “Sometime before dinner.”

  “Of course,” she said. “May I have an hour to refresh myself?”

  “I will send someone to you then.”

  He was almost out the door when Kirra called out a question. “Senneth Brassenthwaite—is she still staying at the palace?”

  “Yes. She will be here until she leaves to accompany the princess to Kianlever.”

  Kirra could not hide her pleasure. “Senneth is attending the ball at Kianlever Court! That should be entertaining.” Milo put an expression of polite interest on his face. Kirra said somewhat hastily, “She has a reputation for not enjoying opulence. It has been years since I have seen her, of course. But I am hoping to renew our acquaintance.”

  “We have put her in the green suite down the hall,” Milo said, pointing. “You may visit with her when you like.”

  But Senneth was not in her room when Kirra hurried down to knock. Unlike Kirra, she wasn’t burdened with servants, either, so there was no one to predict when Senneth might return. Not that Kirra had much time to waste, anyway. She had to submit to Melly’s ministrations and make herself fit to meet with her king.

  BARYN was a tall, thin, wispy-haired man who looked more like someone’s eccentric uncle than king of the realm. “Serra Casserah,” he said, greeting her with a handshake instead of the hug he would have given Kirra. “I was so pleased when we got your father’s note that you were coming. It has been too long since I’ve seen you.”

  She swept him a curtsey as perfect as any Casserah would have managed. “My father tells me I must learn to be more sociable,” she said solemnly. “I confess, I am not always at ease with other people.”

  “No, they can be most trying,” the king agreed. “And yet friendship between Houses is good for the realm. So any effort you make would be likely to pay you back twelvefold.”

  Kirra allowed a small smile to come to her face; he might interpret it as skeptical if he liked. “Yes, majesty.”

  “Come! Sit down! Tell me what you have been doing with yourself. Malcolm’s note contains other interesting news.”

  Kirra took a seat in a straight-backed chair that faced the king’s settee. “Is it possible he wrote you about the next heir of Danalustrous?” she wondered.

  Baryn laughed. “Indeed, he did! I was surprised—and not surprised. My instinct tells me he made an excellent choice, but I worry about the reaction of your sister. I would not want her to be unhappy. Kirra is one of those rare people whose very presence brings me joy.”

  That was certainly nice to hear. But how to answer this question as Casserah would? “I appreciate your concern for my sister, majesty,” she said in a cool voice. “But I assure you, you need not fear for her. She may not own Danalustrous, but Danalustrous owns her, and Danalustrous never gives up what belongs to it. She is ours still. She just has more freedom now to roam as far as she likes before she returns home.”

  He smiled. “Elegantly said. You reassure me.”

  “I am glad to hear that with so much else to occupy you, you still have time to think about my sister and her heart.”

  At that, he sighed. “I’m certain she told you of her latest adventure on my behalf?”

  Kirra nodded. “I assume the regent made it safely home once they parted on the road?”

  “Yes, although—”

  His sudden pause made Kirra want to sit up straighter in alarm. But Casserah would never do that. “Did something else happen to him?” she asked in Casserah’s incurious voice.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. There was an incident one day when he was riding, but it could have been accidental. I have urged him to double his personal guards, but Romar is not a man who likes to be confined and overprotected. He has many, many strengths, but excessive caution is not one of them.”

  “It still is not entirely clear to me,” Kirra said, her voice calm though her heart was pounding, “why anyone would want to harm him. Would you not just install another regent?”

  “Would I not find it difficult to find someone willing to accept such a post if his predecessor had been murdered?” Baryn countered. “Unless the man I chose had been selected for me by, say, a consortium of marlords with some interest in the succession. Then I believe my regent would have a reasonable chance of survival.”

  “Who is behind the attacks on Romar Brendyn?” she asked. “Do you know? My sister came back with strange and brutal tales of Halchon Gisseltess, but—”

  “But it seems a little obvious for him, doesn’t it? Besides, he has been confined to Gissel Plain for several months, with a troop of my own guards stationed on his estates to watch him. In theory, one of my men reads every letter that passes into or out of his house. In practice, I am sure he has ways of communicating with friends who are not entirely friendly to me. And yet Halchon does not seem like the kind of man to waste his time with a subordinate. If he were going to assassinate someone, I would expect him to come directly after me.”

  Kirra felt her eyes widen. “Do you think he will?”

  “Eventually.”

  “Then, sire! Take steps now to rid yourself of the threat!”

  Baryn looked rueful. “Yes, Romar says the same thing. But I cannot find it in me to execute a man merely on the suspicion that he might want to do me harm. I am not ruthless enough.”

  “My father would,” she said. “If he thought someone was trying to harm me. Or Danalustrous. He would take action.”

  “Yes, one of the many things I admire about Malcolm. Such a single-minded man.”

  “It would seem to make sense to be single-minded about preserving your own life.”

  Baryn spread his hands in a gentle gesture. “If I try to confine Halchon, what kind of turmoil do I loose in the realm? If he is blocked, who else might rise up to confront me? I am trying not to precipitate events that I cannot control. Instead, I am trying to prepare for eventualities and put safeguards in place. Much less spectacular. Perhaps less effective. Who knows? It is the way I have chosen.”

  Kirra had no answer for that, though she imagined Casserah might have argued the point. In any case, she had no time to reply because the door opened and two women stepped inside. Kirra was instantly on her feet, making another curtsey, because although Casserah had never met either of them, everyone in the kingdom would recognize both: the king’s wife, Valri, and his daughter, Amalie.

  Valri stopped on the threshold, her hand still on the doorknob, and looked displeased for a moment. She was a small and exquisitely beautiful woman, black-haired and white-skinned, with eyes of such an amazing green they were impossible to look away from. The king’s second wife, Valri was about Kirra’s age and highly mysterious; nobody knew a thing about her background. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had a visitor,” she said. She sounded, Kirra thought in some amusement, even more ungracious than Casserah could. “I was coming to see if you were ready for dinner.”

  Baryn motioned both women into the room. “Indeed, yes, I was just about to suggest that we go down to the dining hall. My dear, do you know Casserah Danalustrous? Malcolm’s youngest daughter.”

  “Oh. No, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Valri hesitated, then came close enough to hold out her hand. “I like your sister very much.”

  Surprising, if true, but perhaps it was just her attempt to be civil. “Majesty,” Kirra said, curtseying again. “How good to meet you.”

  “And this is Amalie, whom you may not have ever met,” Bar
yn said. His voice was filled with pride and affection. “She’s a little shy, because she has never gone out much in public, but she’s been joining us at our balls and dinners lately. Amalie, this is Casserah.”

  “Serra,” Amalie said in a soft voice.

  Kirra repeated the curtsey, and then bestowed a genuine smile on the girl. Kirra herself had not seen the princess since Amalie was a little girl. It would not be rude to take a moment to assess her now, she thought, and so she did. The first thing anyone would notice about Amalie was her hair, a thick red-blond that was arranged in a very simple style, loose on her shoulders. Her face was thin, not entirely filled out, dominated by large brown eyes and marked with an expression of great sweetness. She looked nervous and eager to please, but she did not look stupid, Kirra thought. Her big eyes were watchful and her generous mouth looked as if it could be pressed tightly shut if she did not want to speak a secret. She was dressed in a plain gown that didn’t do much to hide the gawkiness of her eighteen-year-old body, but Kirra thought Amalie would grow into a beautiful young woman.

  But a good queen? Impossible to tell.

  “Princess,” Kirra replied. “What a great pleasure. My sister will be so jealous that I had a chance to visit with you.”

  “Tell Kirra to come back to us, and she shall have breakfast with the princess every day,” Baryn said. “That should be incentive enough, don’t you think?”

  Kirra smiled. “It’s hard to ever guess what will appeal to Kirra.”

  “I don’t think you’re very like her,” Valri observed in her abrupt way.

  Kirra shot her a quick glance. “No? And yet I am very close to her.” Ah, great gods, she could hardly say that without laughing.

  No one was required to answer that, for there was another knock at the door. This time it was Milo with the news that dinner was ready to be served. “The other guests are gathered, liege,” Milo said. “Shall I tell them to wait the meal?”

  “No, no, we’re all done here,” Baryn said briskly, rising to his feet. “Come, my love, my dear—and serra—let us hurry down before all our guests expire of hunger.”

  Indeed, there were perhaps two dozen people awaiting them in a small salon attached to one of the more informal of the palace’s many dining rooms. Kirra quickly identified the ones she knew and then subtracted the ones that Casserah did not know and concluded she would have to be introduced to almost everyone in attendance. She spotted Senneth on the far side of the room, talking quietly to an older woman in a dark green gown, and she felt a sudden unreasonable pang that she could not rush up to the other mystic and give her an excited hug. Senneth, Senneth, I want to hear everything about your trip to Brassenthwaite! And wait till I tell you about my journey to Tilt! But Senneth and Casserah were hardly more than acquaintances—and anyway, Casserah didn’t run up and hug anybody. And Senneth would have no idea who she really was. The confidences would have to wait.

  Kirra looked again for the one face that she had hoped to see here, even though she knew it was unlikely, it was stupid even to hope, stupid even to think about it. Of course Romar Brendyn was still in Merrenstow, recuperating from his wild journey and apparently inviting new assassins in to try to kill him. Of course he was not in Ghosenhall. Surely the king would have mentioned it if he were here.

  Surely Kirra had no business feeling such deep disappointment at his absence.

  Baryn had caught everyone’s attention merely by stepping into the room, and now all the gathered nobles were offering quick bows and curtseys. “I’m not sure all of you know our newest arrival,” the king said, holding out his arm. Kirra came forward and made yet another little curtsey. Really, she was already getting tired of the tedious formality. “Casserah Danalustrous, here for a few days. I’m sure you’ll all welcome her.”

  There were a few murmurs of “serra,” and everyone nodded or smiled or offered some other sign of recognition. Kirra glanced at Senneth again and found the other mystic’s eyes on her, a speculative expression on her face. Why has Malcolm Danalustrous sent Casserah here, when Kirra was so recently at court? When she could figure out how to phrase it, Senneth would no doubt ask.

  But the chance wouldn’t come at dinner, since they were widely separated by other members of the party. As a new arrival and high-ranking serramarra, Kirra was seated next to the king at the head of the table; Senneth, serramarra of the First House of Gillengaria, sat closer to Valri at the foot of the table. The others were scattered in between them.

  The food was excellent, the conversation witty enough but very light. No one talked politics or other disastrous topics. Kirra tried to pay attention to how well Amalie was doing, seated between her father and an avuncular man from Coravann. The princess wasn’t exceptionally animated, but she did seem to hold her own when speaking and appeared to be listening to talk going on in several conversations around her. There was something about her eyes, Kirra thought. Expressive. Curious. Intelligent. This was a girl who didn’t miss much, no matter how little exposure she had had to the world.

  “And how is it I have not ever encountered you before?” the man on Kirra’s left asked before the first hour of the meal had elapsed. He was a Storian man, Rafe’s cousin or some such—Twelfth House, at any rate, and damn proud of it. “Serramarra Casserah Danalustrous! Shouldn’t we have met at any of a thousand balls or banquets in the past three years?”

  Kirra gave him a small, cool smile. He was maybe in his early fifties, still good-looking but no longer the stunningly handsome man he must once have been, though he didn’t seem to realize it. He was pleasant enough, but a touch too arrogant to appeal to Casserah. “I rarely attend such affairs,” she said. “Almost no one has met me.”

  “A loss for all of us.”

  “You could be useful to me,” she said. Casserah would have said it, and just that bluntly.

  He laughed. “Tell me how!”

  “Who are these people? Should I know them? What are their Houses?”

  “Do you recognize any of them?”

  “I’ve met Senneth Brassenthwaite. She’s done work for my father.”

  His eyebrows rose at that but he made no comment. “Well, the man to her right is from Merrenstow—”

  Most of the rest of the meal passed with her companion giving her detailed gossip about everyone else gathered around the table, leading Kirra to feel that she knew them all a little more intimately than she’d wanted. She also devoutly hoped he never heard of any of her own escapades that he could then describe with malicious amusement to another stranger at some distant date. She almost wished she hadn’t told him she knew Senneth; she would have loved to hear his comments about her, which were sure to be unflattering. He seemed to have a preference for the conventional and a slight aversion to mystics. Senneth would hardly have suited his notions of aristocracy.

  When the meal finally ended, the group moved to another salon for a more relaxed evening of wine and conversation. Kirra had hoped to get a chance to whisper her secret to Senneth, but it turned out that Casserah Danalustrous was in high demand that evening. She soon had a press of people three deep all around her. Others at the table had been gossiping, she surmised. They all knew she was her father’s heir, and they all wanted a chance to show her how much they valued Danalustrous. By the time she had finished having a small, personal conversation with each of them, it was close to midnight. Most of the room had already emptied, and Senneth was gone.

  Red and silver hell. If Senneth was spending the night in the barracks with Tayse, Kirra would never have a chance to talk to her.

  But maybe she wasn’t.

  Making her way back upstairs, Kirra headed directly to Senneth’s door and knocked. There was a moment of silence inside the room, then footfalls crossed the floor, and the door was pulled open. Senneth was here, after all.

  CHAPTER 12

  SENNETH was still wearing her dinner dress, a severe and formal blue that turned her gray eyes cobalt and added highlights to her white-blond h
air. She was looking a little mussed—the short hair, always untidy, looked as if Senneth had run her hands through it about fourteen times. Her feet were bare. Kirra could only guess Senneth had answered the door after yanking back on a dress that had already been discarded.

  “Senneth.” Kirra spoke in Casserah’s voice. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

  Senneth’s face was absolutely blank. “Casserah. I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the dinner. I had no idea you were coming to Ghosenhall.”

  “Entirely my father’s idea.”

  Senneth hesitated a moment, then stepped back in a tacit invitation. Kirra strolled in and glanced quickly around, but didn’t see any sign that Tayse was hiding behind curtains or under the bed. “It is very good to see you, of course,” Senneth added belatedly.

  Kirra turned to face her, her expression cool, a little supercilious. “We’ve heard strange tales of you. The lost heiress of Brassenthwaite! And all this time my father knew.”