by Anthea Sharp
One side of the turnglass was filled with carefully calibrated gemstones. Flip it upside down, and the gems would trickle into the empty glass sphere. When that side filled up, one turned it over again. None of this cutting up pieces of the day into numbered portions.
Although she supposed that, since the sun rose and set at regular intervals, it made sense.
Her people measured such things by the gleaming arcs of the palemoon and the bright as they danced about one another in the star-stitched sky. The brightmoon trailed its smaller companion, and every few rotations of the palemoon they would join together in a doublemoon, casting their gold and silver radiance over the land.
Anneth tucked a few more bright blue flowers into the full bucket, which was a blaze of color beneath the bright mortal sun.
“That should be enough,” Lily said.
“I’ll carry it back,” Anneth offered. “I’m not one of those princesses who never do a bit of work, you know.”
Lily hesitated a moment, but then handed the bucket over. “Are you interested in catching the prince’s eye?” she asked. “Seeing as how you’re actually of royal blood.”
“Not at all,” Anneth said, surprised. “I already have a prince as a suitor, and that is one too many.”
“You do?” Lily’s eyes shone with excitement. “You must tell me all about him. Where is he from? Is he handsome? Do you think he misses you terribly?”
“Prince Deldarinnon is from the Cereus Court, in Elfhame. I suppose he is handsome enough. And we hardly know one another.”
Indeed, Anneth had spared little thought for the Cereus Prince since she’d stepped through the gateway. If she had to guess, she supposed he’d either foolishly ridden off alone into the Erynvorn in search of adventure, or was back at the Hawthorne Palace, flirting with all the court ladies and making jaded remarks about how provincial Hawthorne was compared to Cereus.
“Do you think you’ll marry him?” Lily asked.
“No.” Anneth said the word without thinking—very undiplomatic of her. She was supposed to be entertaining the idea of their betrothal, after all.
“Why ever not?”
Anneth switched the bucket to her other hand and continued down the lane. Ahead, she glimpsed the Gearys’ cottage.
“Because my mother wants me to, for one thing,” she said. “What I want is of no consequence—I’m just a piece upon her playing board.”
“But would you, if you loved him?” Lily pressed.
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt that kind of love.” Not like Bran and Mara, who would risk everything and cross worlds for one another.
They reached the front door, and Anneth was grateful to let the conversation drop.
Mrs. Geary insisted on feeding them a hearty lunch, then sent Anneth upstairs to rest.
“Not for too long, though,” Lily said. “We’ve a ball to get ready for!”
18
Bran and Mara spent the entire day surveilling the Temple of the Twin Gods. They tracked the priests’ schedules, and noted that a male priest guarded the door of flame while a woman watched that of the blade. The temple was open to worshippers from dawn until dusk, when the bells of the city pealed out in a cacophony that made Bran wince, though Mara seemed to find the sound joyful.
She had, during one of her stints “praying” before the main altar, spotted a small doorway to one side of the huge painting of the Twin Gods, though none of the priests seemed to use that door. At least not during the hours Bran and Mara spent observing.
He also believed the ornate wooden paneling lining the walls in the smaller shrines held secret openings leading to the areas beyond. But to verify his guess, he would need to cast a rune of revealing, and there was too much risk during the daylit hours.
That night, he and Mara solidified their plans for reaching the inner sanctum—and the relic holding the Void.
“We’ll go in before dark, while the temple doors are still open,” Bran said. “Then we can find an out-of-the-way spot to wait, and I’ll cast invisibility over us. Once they close the temple, we’ll find our way to the inner sanctum.”
“I think the priests keep count of who enters and leaves,” Mara said. “They’d search the temple if we didn’t come back out, and maybe even send in the city guards.”
“Then I’ll have to hold the rune of invisibility while we go into the temple.” As he’d told her earlier, such a thing was not beyond his powers. Though it also wasn’t easy.
She frowned, as if reading his thoughts. “We have no idea what lies beyond the main area of the temple, though. We should try to conserve our magic as much as necessary. What if…”
She trailed off, frowning in thought. He didn’t interrupt her. Already her ability to imagine different ways of using magic had allowed them to create a new spell. Who knew what else his clever wife would think of?
“Could you create the illusion of us leaving the temple?” she finally asked. “It might be simpler that way, instead of trying to sneak in unseen. We could find a hiding place and then mislead the priests into thinking we left. Is that possible?”
“Indeed.” He smiled at her. “That should work very well.” Invisibility worked best in stillness and shadow—two things the hushed and dim temple had in abundance.
The final battle approached, and his pulse notched up in anticipation. Another day, perhaps two…
“I’ll inquire at the harbor first thing in the morning,” he said. “With luck, there will be a ship departing shortly for Raine.”
Indeed, as the fierce fire of the sun broke above the horizon the next day, Bran was already at the docks. After asking over a dozen captains, he finally found passage on a merchant vessel, the Pridewell, bound across the Strait to Raine. It was a smaller ship than he would’ve liked, but it was the soonest departure available from Parnese. Under the circumstances, it would do.
Especially considering the worrisome whispers at the docks that the Athraig were planning to invade Raine. Fear for Anneth itched constantly at the back of his mind, despite Ondo’s reassurance that she was safe at the Gearys’, and recovering her power. That worry was small, however, compared to the problem of infiltrating the temple and locating the Void shard.
Not to mention the question of his future with Mara.
Even though she’d agreed to see the Oracles, that was no guarantee she’d remain in Elfhame. Whatever her choice, though, he vowed to track down whoever was plotting to kill his wife, and ensure they called off their assassins. And then faced the consequences of his wrath.
Finally, he could not escape the looming fear for his father and what would become of Hawthorne once Lady Tinnueth took the reins of power.
The weight of so many burdens was nearly unbearable.
But he was Prince Brannonilon Luthinor, and he had won against impossible odds before.
As he strode from the harbor, he forced his pain and worry aside and narrowed his concentration to the task at hand. His intention and power must be focused on finding and destroying the Void, and nothing more. The future would bring what it may.
Mara glanced up as he stepped into their small rooms at the inn. She stood at the table, their traveling packs before her, which she was filling with essential supplies—food, a change of clothing, and the last of their coin.
He had paid for their passage already. If fate and fortune were with them, he’d have no more need of enchanting stones to silver before they left the mortal world behind.
“Any luck?” Mara asked.
He came and dropped a kiss on her herb-scented hair. “We sail first thing tomorrow, with the dawn tide.”
She inhaled sharply. “So, tonight we invade the temple.”
“Yes. This evening, we’ll go in before they close the doors for the night. Soon after, I’ll create the illusion of the two of us departing.”
“While we hide in the shadows.” She glanced down at her dark trousers and tunic. “Just in case it was tonight, I’ve dressed for the occ
asion.”
“My clever wife.” He wanted to pull her tightly against him and never let her go. Instead he drew in a deep breath and gripped the pommel of his sword.
Either by might or by magic, they would find their way to the inner sanctum of the Twin Gods’ temple and do whatever was necessary to destroy the Void. This time, they would not fail.
19
The moment Anneth lay down atop the bed for her post-lunch nap, weariness washed the bright pulse of her excitement away. It seemed like no time at all had passed before Lily was there, gently shaking her shoulder.
“Wake up,” Lily said, grinning. “It’s time to put on our gowns and do our hair.”
Anneth sat up, trying to shake the grogginess from her head. Tentatively, she reached for her wellspring. It stirred sluggishly in response, and she was glad to feel the first trickles of magical energy seeping through her. Another day more and it was quite likely she’d be back to, if not full power, enough to cast the rune of illusion without Ondo’s help.
“I’ll bring you up some tea,” Lily said. “That will help. And then we can go through Mother’s jewelry box.”
She skipped off, and Anneth resisted the urge to lie back down. The ball, she reminded herself. Castle Raine, up close. Dancing with mortals.
This last thought was enough to pull her upright with a jolt of mild anxiety. Then Lily returned, a cup of tea in one hand and a carved wooden box under her arm. She perched on her neatly made bed and patted the quilt.
“Sit,” she said. “You can put your tea on the windowsill and lean against the pillow until you’re awake.”
“I’m awake now,” Anneth replied, but she tucked herself at the head of the bed anyway.
Lily placed the small chest between them and opened the lid. “Let’s see what we can use.”
The chest held a tray of rings on top, which Lily set aside. Beneath it gleamed a handful of necklaces, some plain silver chains, others bearing simple gems. A prismatic glint caught Anneth’s eye, and she reached forward, setting a finger on the gemstone.
“This is from Elfhame,” she said, a sudden pang going through her.
Much as she was enjoying the human world, so much strangeness was taxing, and for a moment she wished she were back in her rooms in the Hawthorne Palace, surrounded by everything known.
“Yes.” Lily plucked the gem out and held it up. “Mara left us with seven jewels, after she came back and then went away again. We all got one, and this must be the extra. Pansy had hers set into a wedding ring.”
“What did the others do with theirs?”
Lily shrugged. “Father used his to expand the brewery, and Mother turned hers into coin to save and spend. With Sean and Seanna, who knows? I’m keeping mine as part of my dowry.”
“I should have brought you more,” Anneth said. How selfish she’d been, not thinking of what she might bring into the mortal world that might be of value.
“We don’t need more.” Lily smiled at her. “My family’s practically rich these days, especially now that I’m the only one still at home.”
All the same, Anneth resolved that the next time she came, she’d bring them a satchel stuffed full of jewels.
If there was a next time.
“I think there’s a necklace in here that would suit you.” Lily tucked the shining gem back into the box, then stirred the jewelry with one finger. “Here it is.”
She pulled out a silver chain bearing a pendant made of some cloudy green stone. The teardrop shape was simple, yet elegant.
“What about you?” Anneth asked, accepting the necklace.
“This one.” Lily produced a thick braid of gold. “It should match the embroidery on my dress, and if it doesn’t, I’ll wear the rosebud cameo.”
Anneth nodded, though she didn’t know what a cameo was. At least she knew a rose was a type of mortal flower, the same shade as the gown Lily planned to wear.
“Dresses now,” Lily said, a trill in her voice. “Mother said she’s just finishing up the hem of yours. And then, our hair.”
Mrs. Geary appeared with the green gown, and soon Anneth and Lily were laced into their finery. Anneth glanced down at her skirt, which did not pouf out nearly as widely as Lily’s. Of course, Lily had pulled on four petticoats beneath it.
“That’s one too many,” her mother said, with a pointed look. “I can see the ruffle peeking out from underneath.”
“I hear that’s the fashion in Meriton,” Lily said.
Mrs. Geary’s brow rose. “It’s not the fashion in Little Hazel, however. I won’t have my daughter appearing improperly dressed at the ball.”
Lily blew out a sigh that lifted the hair over her eyes, but stripped the fourth petticoat off.
The necklace choices proved to go well with their gowns, though Anneth was a trifle disappointed she wouldn’t get to see what a cameo was. She should have asked when she had the chance.
“Sit, Lil, and I’ll do up your hair,” Mrs. Geary said, indicating the low stool tucked in the corner. “And I’ll let you borrow my gold earbobs.”
“Thank you, mother!” Lily’s frown smoothed away, and she gave her mother an embrace, though she had to lean awkwardly over her full skirts to do so.
“Would you like earrings, as well?” Mrs. Geary asked Anneth, as Lily dragged the stool into the center of the bedroom.
“I don’t think so,” Anneth said. The dress made her uncomfortable enough without having to worry about strange jewelry hanging off her ears.
Lily picked up her skirts and dropped them over the stool, then sat, surrounded by a circle of pink.
“I can’t reach very well,” Mrs. Geary said dryly.
“I don’t want to crinkle the gown,” Lily said. “Especially not on my behind. Think of how that will look.”
“I highly doubt that everyone is going to walk to the castle simply to preserve the lay of their skirts,” her mother replied.
“Where are all the guests staying?” Anneth asked.
“Some are at the inn at Little Hazel,” Mrs. Geary said. “Some in the tents raised to house guests, outside the castle. And the highborn in the castle itself, of course.”
With expert fingers, Mrs. Geary wove together strands of Lily’s hair then wrapped the braid around her head and fixed it in place with hairpins. At least the pins were recognizable to Anneth, and she was relieved that not everything between the worlds was strange and different.
“Your turn,” Mrs. Geary said, beckoning Anneth to take Lily’s place on the stool. “I plan to keep some of your braids in, but soften the effect around your face, if you agree.”
“Certainly. I want to blend in.”
“You’re a bit too tall for that,” Lily said with a laugh. “And honestly, there’s something mysterious about your features.”
“Yes, and we want to emphasize that,” Mrs. Geary said, gently tugging at Anneth’s hair as she unplaited and rewove the strands. “Without, of course, being too outlandish.”
“I’ll bring the flowers up,” Lily said, glancing at herself in the oval-shaped mirror hung beside the door. “I can weave in a lovely crown, don’t you think?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, and soon was back, setting the bucket down on the floor beneath the mirror. It sloshed quietly, and the flowers nodded, as if agreeing with Lily’s previous question.
“Fetch a towel,” Mrs. Geary said. “We don’t need water dripping all over the floorboards.”
“I brought one.” Lily waved the red-striped cloth at her mother.
Then, humming under her breath, she plucked a few blooms from the bouquet. She wiped the moisture from their stems and held them up over her ear, turning her head back and forth to study the effect.
“Cornflowers, or sweet pea?” she asked. “Or both?”
“I like how the blue and pink look together,” Anneth said. “Add a bit of green or white for contrast, perhaps.”
“Oh, I like that.” Lily continued picking through the bucket, wiping up
the occasional drip from the floor.
“Shake your head gently,” Mrs. Geary told Anneth. “I want to make sure the loops are secure.”
Anneth obeyed. It was an odd sensation, to feel her hair moving back and forth when she was accustomed to plaits woven tightly against her scalp.
“Good.” Mrs. Geary squeezed Anneth’s shoulders to signal she was done. “Lily, move back so Anneth can see herself in the mirror.”
Lily turned, her eyes widening in approval as she studied Anneth’s hair.
“That’s lovely,” she said. “The same, except different.”
Curious to see what her hostess had wrought, Anneth stepped up to the mirror. It took a moment for her to recognize herself in the soft-faced woman looking back at her. Part of the effect was the braids, she realized. Instead of being pulled back severely from her temples, loose loops of dark hair framed her features.
“It’s lovely,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Now for flowers.” Lily poked a long-stemmed daisy through one of the braids.
It bent, tickling Anneth’s nose, and they both laughed.
“Perhaps something smaller,” Anneth said.
Lily nodded and sorted through the flowers, choosing a few sprays of starry yellow blossoms and a handful of ferns. She began weaving them through Anneth’s hair. Watching in the mirror, Anneth thought the effect was surprisingly elegant. In Elfhame, they sometimes wore flowers in their hair as well, although she was more accustomed to jewels.
Mrs. Geary put her palm in the small of her back and stretched. “Don’t take too long. The emissary did caution you to arrive early.”
Lily glanced out the window at the wash of afternoon sunlight, then bounced up and down on her toes. “I’m done—unless you want more blooms in your hair, Anneth?”