“But the Autumn Season just started. There will be lots of men wanting to be bonded to you. Your Air Sensitivity is already stronger than Liliana’s. Not to mention your other Abilities.”
Ursula got out of the chair and walked over to the vanity table. She sat down and started looking through the pots and tins of Mariana’s skin creams. “I just don’t want to take any chances, you know.”
“Chances? What does that mean?”
The Princess opened one of the containers of skin cream and started applying some to her cheeks, looking in the mirror as she did so.
“You know. What if no one does offer for me? I would hate to go into next season’s balls without a suitor.”
“Why would that happen? You’re only two years past your debut. It’s exactly the right time for a Presumptive to choose you.” Mariana decided her headache and the illness from the night before must be affecting her mental processes because her sister wasn’t making any sense.
“Maybe if I were closer to the throne. I am stronger than Liliana, but Ramone is still stronger. His baby will be born in the next month. That child could easily have more Sensitivity than I do. I’m quickly losing my appeal to any noble suitors.”
“You’re a Princess, currently presumed to be second in line to the throne because you’re going to be more powerful than Lily,” Mariana said, “and you’re a Multiple Sensitive.”
“Yes, but you’re an Insensitive.”
As soon as the words came out of Ursula’s mouth, she gasped and dropped the pot of skin cream. It landed on its side on the pale pink carpet, and Mariana’s eyes were drawn to the lily-white substance as it slowly oozed out of the jar.
“I’m sorry, Mari. I didn’t think.”
“You think no man wants to be bonded to the sister of an Insensitive.” Mariana didn’t take her eyes off the cream even as it began to make a round puddle under the vanity table.
“I only meant if neither Victoria or Liliana were pregnant, I would be more desirable as a wife. More…potential or something.”
Mariana continued as though her sister hadn’t spoken. “No man would want to take a chance his children will end up being Insensitives like me, especially if they can’t be married to the ruler of Valborough.”
Mariana heard her own voice and was surprised at how calm and matter-of-fact she sounded. No one had ever voiced this concern in her hearing before, but it made sense.
If what her mother said was true, and she was truly King Jonathan’s daughter, her Insensitivity could only be the result of a defect, like mental illness or something. What man would want to risk having children like her?
“I’m tired, Ursula,” Mariana said. She dropped her napkin on the table and walked over to the bed. Her sister knelt on the floor, trying to mop up the lost skin cream. Without looking at her, Mariana said, “Please go.”
“I’m sorry, Mari. I didn’t mean it.” She heard Ursula set the now half-empty jar on the table. Mariana regarded the matted section of carpet slightly lighter than the rest.
“It doesn’t matter.” She took off her dressing robe and climbed under the blankets. “I can get more cream in town, and I’m sure Jessamae can clean the—”
“That’s not what I meant.” Ursula came over to the bed, but she neither sat down nor touched her sister.
“I know what you meant.” Mariana refused to meet her eyes. “You’re probably right. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on getting married because of me. You take George Evan’s offer. It’s probably the smartest thing to do.”
“I…things will be…I mean, you…” Ursula sputtered, and after a moment of total incoherency, she left the bedroom.
Mariana didn’t cry. She felt as though she were outside herself, watching this Insensitive Progenna lying on her bed. Her heart had been wrenched out of her chest and crushed with the truth of the words her sister had let slip.
Why weren’t her tears falling? Why wasn’t she bleeding on the outside like she was on the inside? Shouldn’t there be visible signs of the pain she felt?
Not only would she never find a man to love her for herself, but her condition meant her sister might never find happiness either. How could she continue to go to the parties and balls and musicales the royal family did every Autumn Season, knowing all of society was talking about her and now her sister?
She knew what she had to do. Even with her head throbbing, she got out of bed again and went to her wardrobe.
Jessamae must have heard Mariana moving around because she came into the bedroom.
“Progenna, what are you doing?” The maid hurried over and took the garments out of Mariana’s hands. “Let me get your clothes for you if you feel well enough to dress.”
“I have to go away,” Mariana said. Her head was swimming, but she knew what she had to do. However, as she reached the wash stand, she was overcome by dizziness and collapsed into Jess’s arms, the clothing discarded and forgotten.
“Go away?” Jessamae led her back to the bed. Mariana tried to fight the maid, but she was still weak. “Where would you go?”
“It doesn’t matter. Some place where Sensitivities don’t mean anything. A place where a woman can marry a man who loves her for herself, not for what she can help him do.”
“Oh, Progenna, you’re talking about the commoner life. I don’t have any abilities, but I still have had my share of men claiming to love me.”
“Why aren’t you married?” Mariana let herself be lowered to the mattress. Her head hurt so much she could barely see.
“Never found anyone I loved enough to stop working here in the palace. Taking care of your mother and yourself is life enough for me.” Jessamae fluffed up the pillows and helped the Progenna get comfortable in the bed before pulling the blankets up to her shoulders. “I love taking care of you too much to get married.”
“Another life I’ve ruined.” Mariana couldn’t stop the tears that started to flow down her cheeks.
“Ruined? Who said anything about my life being ruined?” Jessamae sat on the edge of the bed and brushed Mariana’s hair off of her face. “I wouldn’t change a thing, my dear. Don’t you know that? I love you like you were my own child. Someday, you should ask your mother about the arguments she and I got into when you were a baby. We didn’t always see eye to eye on how you should be raised.”
The maid went to the dressing room and came back with a glass of water.
In spite of everything, Mariana had to smile at the thought of Jessamae, who was only about thirteen years older than she was, arguing with the Queen of Valborough. She wished she could remember.
“Now, little one, you should get some rest. The doctor gave me a little sleeping powder to help you get some sleep. He said that is all you need.”
“Did anyone else get sick at dinner?” Mariana took a sip of the water which had a blue tinge from the medicine powder.
“No, child. Now, no more talk of running away.” Jessamae helped Mariana lie back on the pillows, then left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Mariana’s head still throbbed but the medicine must have been strong because the pain subsided and her eyelids grew heavy.
****
Thibault’s crows had never let him down. By the time he finished his prayers the next morning, a tapping at the window alerted him to the return of Sojoca, the bird who flew messages between himself and his spy in the nearby town of Talla.
He opened the window, and Sojoca flew to the cage. She waited while he took the message off her leg and gave her a handful of seeds.
As she devoured the food, he read the message, then threw the piece of paper in the fire. The King would be pleased.
An hour later, Thibault left the palace, walking through the courtyard as though merely taking in the morning air.
“Master Thibault,” called one of the guards, who was walking down the stairs from the wall.
Thibault smiled and waved. This would be the perfect cover for him. No one would question his walking
through the palace gate along with a friend who was heading home after guarding the wall all night.
“Where are you off to so early, my lord?” Baligan said, clapping Thibault on the back when he approached.
“Trouble sleeping, and I think I’ve told you, I don’t have a title. Thibault is fine.”
“Your father is a Protector-Imperator, so in my book, that makes you a lord.” Baligan yawned.
“You need to get to a bed, my friend.” Thibault put his arm around Baligan’s shoulders. “Your lady wife will be waiting, with open arms, I’m sure.”
The guard chuckled. “My wife is eight months pregnant, my lord. She will not be welcoming my attentions, and in truth, I believe I am too exhausted to pursue the matter. Things were too quiet on the wall tonight to keep a body awake.”
The two men reached the gate, waved to the guards on either side of the portcullis and waited as the wooden gate rose to allow them to exit the courtyard.
“I would think a quiet night on the wall was a good thing,” Thibault said.
“Oh, it is, but it makes a long night,” Baligan said, yawning again. “I will be glad to see my bed.”
They reached the end of the palace road. “I wish you a good sleep,” Thibault said as he veered toward the royal forest. Baligan waved and headed toward the small gathering of houses where many of the guards lived.
Thibault waited until Baligan was far enough away he wouldn’t be able to see the king’s cousin or where he was headed.
Before Thibault entered the forest, he made sure none of the guards on the palace walls were looking in his direction. There was nothing inherently wrong with him going into the forest, but given what he was planning to do, he didn’t want anyone to have reason to suspect his movements.
Once there were trees shielding him from the eyes of anyone on the palace walls, he quickened his steps to the regular meeting place, a cave hidden by trees and thickly growing brush. Even before he could see the place, he knew his contact had arrived from the sound of a horse snorting and shuffling through the dead leaves, looking for green food.
Thibault knew it was time to reconsider Odel as a spy in Talla. He was too self-satisfied with his position as informant, as though that gave him some prestige with the King. Truth was, Jonathan had no idea who Thibault spoke to for the information he needed. Additionally, as a spy, Odel had proven himself untrustworthy, and if the rebels were actually routed, he would find himself with no advocates on either side of the conflict.
“Thibault.”
Odel’s voice seemed to carry through the forest, and Thib shook his head. How could the man be so stupid as to yell his name like that? Surely there had to be a way to find another contact in Talla.
“Sir,” Thibault said when he met Odel. “I see you got my note.”
“Yes, my lord. Yes.” Odel bowed, smiling broadly. “Always happy to be of service to the King.”
“Fine. So, what can you tell me about the attack on the royal caravan?”
“It is as you suspected. The rebels from this region were responsible.”
“And you know who the leader is?”
“Oh, yes, my lord. Unfortunately, it is almost impossible to find him if he goes into hiding, which he did right after the attack.”
Thibault clenched his jaw. He had to bring someone to Jonathan, someone who was involved in the attack to show the rebels the king would not tolerate such behavior. Ideally, that person would be the rebel leader, but at this point, for Jonathan’s purposes, it could be anyone.
Apparently seeing the distress on Thibault’s face, Odel added, “I may not be able to get you the leader, but I know how we can draw him out of hiding. His sister is married to another of the rebels. I know where he is.”
This could be just as good, Thibault thought. “Where is he?”
Chapter Six
Orlando finished the bowl of pottage and wiped the dish out with a chunk of dark rye bread.
“Once again, Adindira, that was wonderful.”
His sister shook her head and took his bowl. “If you would come into the village more often, you could eat like this regularly.”
The tension in the room grew at her words, and Orlando saw his three nephews watching him closely.
“I suppose that means it’s time for me to leave,” he said, pushing his chair back from the table. “I didn’t realize you were so grudging in your hospitality.”
Dira tsked. “You know I didn’t mean anything by my words. I just hate how you live in that cave with those outlaws.”
“My sweet sister, I’m one of those outlaws.”
She motioned to her sons as though shooing them out of the house. “Boys, aren’t there pigs that need caring for? And I’m sure the chickens out back won’t feed themselves.”
“I can stay, can’t I?” Rianaer pushed his chair back but remained sitting. “I’m old enough to talk about the rebels and such. Uncle Orlando…”
Adindira cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Uncle Orlando is not the mother here. I am, and I say you will not be joining the rebels anytime soon. Go do your chores. Take Mirit with you. Let him help with the pigs. He can carry water for you.”
Rianaer grumbled, but didn’t argue loud enough for his mother to hear. Orlando knew he hadn’t been as wise at the same age. Just the memory of any of the arguments he’d gotten into with his mother was enough to make his cheeks sting from remembered slaps.
“I’ll thank you not to put thoughts of glory in their heads, Lando. Those boys are all I have, since you snatch their father off on your righteous missions.”
“I don’t mean to make the rebel life sound attractive. Can I help it if Rian makes his way out to the camp to listen to war stories?”
“You can help it.” She slammed the dirty dishes into the wash tub that sat near the fire. “You and your friends, out in the woods, playing at a war that’s long over. Of course, Rian and Mir are going to want to have adventures like their great uncle Orlando, hero of Clearlea. Thank the Elements Airis is still too young to understand what an enemy is.”
Her brother raised his hands in an attitude of surrender. “The heroes are those Valborough men stuck in Heyton jails because King Jonathan turned his back on them. I never called myself a hero.”
Adindira shook her head. “You don’t have to. You only need to disappear for a few days, hiding from the King’s Guard and soldiers, then reappear in the boys’ lives with fresh stories of how you stole from the King or some other noble. Of course they’re going to see you as some larger-than-life figure out of legend. Your band of followers doesn’t help. That Hamneth person thinks the sun rises and sets at the whim of Orlando the Great.”
Orlando scowled. His sister didn’t usually talk like this. “Hamneth and I fought together in Clearlea.”
His sister nodded. “Yes, and you bravely dragged him out of that fire, your own leg torn up and bleeding from a sword wound. I’ve heard the tale over and over. Mirit is already begging to join the rebels, and he’s barely eleven years old. Rianaer thinks he is one of your band. How can I keep my boys safe when they think Orlando can do no wrong and if he is fighting the King, then fighting the King must be the right thing to do?”
“It is the right thing to do. Our King is failing his people, and not just the prisoners. I have to do something about it.”
“I agree there are problems in Valborough,” she said, turning her back on him and preparing to wash the dishes. “I think since Jonathan took the throne from his sainted father, life in Talla has gotten harder, but I don’t think it is your job to fix things.”
“If I don’t, then who will?”
He heard her take a deep breath and imagined she was counting to ten the way their mother did when he said something she wanted to argue with but couldn’t figure out what to say.
Slowly, Adindira faced her brother. “I love you, Lando. I have since you were ten, and Mother brought you home. I was so excited to know I had a big brother. You were everyth
ing I had dreamed of, but you were always out of reach, somehow. Always finding wrongs that needed to be righted and deciding you were the only one who could do that.”
“Dira, I can’t let it go. Those men…”
“Those men are not my husband and sons.” She threw the dishrag on the table. Orlando ignored the drops that splashed on his face.
“I can’t watch them go off to be killed for some cause on the other side of the country. I need them here, just like I needed you—” She stopped suddenly, her face filling with color, and then she snatched up the rag and went back to the dishes.
“When I left for the war.” This was an old sticking point between them, and Orlando didn’t know how to get past it. He had hoped rescuing the hostages would help make up for all the years he’d been away from his sister. She could see he hadn’t been a soldier for the glory and honor. The Elements knew there had been little enough of those anyway.
Orlando stood up and went to her side. “I had to go. I thought you understood.”
“I did.” She angrily brushed a tear off her cheek. “It was long ago, and it shouldn’t matter anymore. I’m not a child now, but I’m also not a dewy-eyed maiden who needs some handsome knight to wear her favor and sing tales of love worth dying for.”
“What do you want me to do, Dira? Let men I fought with languish in jail cells?”
“Of course not, but I don’t want my sons to run around the forests at night, hiding from guards and playing bandits. It’s bad enough Elnys has joined you. I can’t stop him, but please, don’t take my boys.”
Orlando kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, little sister, and I promise I’ll send Rian home before the next raid.”
She rolled her eyes. “You could just send him home when he sneaks out to the caves.”
He grinned. “And have him miss out on the drinking, the fighting, and the war stories? A boy should have some fun in his life.”
The rag hit his cheek before he even realized she’d thrown it. If she’d been a man, she’d have been a great asset to the rebels.
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