Reader and Raelynx

by Sharon Shinn

  “I never really knew that much about politics,” Valri said with a shrug. “All I knew was how to keep her safe. How to prevent anyone from guessing she was a mystic.” She shrugged again. “And now everyone knows, and there is nothing I can do for her anymore.”

  “She needs you!”

  “She needs advisors, and she has plenty of those,” Valri said. “Romar will be back in a few weeks, and I don’t see Tayse and Senneth riding off any time soon. And Kiernan Brassenthwaite seems to have forgotten he has another home to go to. Amalie doesn’t need me.”

  “But she loves you,” he said.

  Valri gave him her dark smile. “She loves you,” she corrected. “And you have won the right to stay beside her.” She shook her head. “I don’t know that I would have been able to leave her behind with any other husband. I knew she had to marry, but I didn’t believe there was a noble I could give her to with a whole heart. I am glad you have found a way to trick the marlords into accepting you. You love her, and I am free to go.”

  “It’s not enough to have one person who loves you,” Cammon objected. “You need as many as you can find.”

  That made Valri laugh out loud. “Yes, I suppose that is how you live your life, isn’t it, Cammon?” she said. “You and Amalie both. You seem to enrich yourselves on love, and the more of it there is, the happier you are.”

  “Isn’t that true for everyone?” he said, bewildered.

  “Not for me. Love takes so much energy, and I don’t know how to parcel it out. So I reserve it for a very few.”

  Cammon glanced around, as if, in the shadows, he would spot a dreamy-eyed Lirren man. “Is it Arrol? Are you going back to the Lirrenlands to be with him?”

  Valri nodded. “And to see my family. And to decide if I can live among the clans, as bahta-lo, though I have abandoned them once, and they have all but forgotten me.”

  “That won’t be easy,” Cammon said.

  She gave him that dark smile again. “I cannot remember part of my life that has been easy. This at least should not be as hard as the past few years.”

  “Will you be back? Sometimes? Now and then? Amalie will miss you, of course, and I—” He did not know how to complete the sentence.

  “I expect I will,” she said. “Not often. It is hard for anyone to live between two worlds, I think, and harder for me than most. I tend to commit myself completely or walk away. But I think I will need to see Amalie from time to time—to know she is well, safe, and happy. And I will want her to know the same things about me.”

  “I’ll know,” he said.

  That earned him a sharp look from her extraordinary eyes. “What will you know?”

  “If you’re well. If you’re sad. If you’re joyful. I’ll know how you are.”

  Valri was silent a moment. “That might fade in time,” she said. “That connection you have with me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Even when I am across the mountains and married to another man?”

  “Even then.”

  She made a slight gesture with her hands. Her pale cheeks were washed with the faintest color. “Then think of me kindly, Cammon, when you think of me, and know that I will remember you with the utmost fondness.”

  She did not lay her hand on his arm or touch him on the cheek. She was not a woman for casual expressions of affection. But her face was still warm as, without another word, she turned and paced away. Cammon stayed behind feeling both bereft and strangely peaceful, and with his mind followed her all the way back to the palace doors.

  Amalie was crying when he found her an hour later, and she flung herself into his arms. “Valri’s leaving,” she sobbed into his shirt. “I knew she would—but I thought—I hoped—and she says she doesn’t know when she’ll be back—”

  Cammon held her close and stroked her head, murmuring into her hair. Amalie so rarely needed comfort that he almost enjoyed the chance to soothe her. “And Kirra’s gone, and Donnal’s gone,” she added with a hiccup. “And Uncle Romar is gone. And I know I’m supposed to be princess, and I know I’m supposed to be strong, but I miss them. I miss everybody.”

  “Shhh,” he said, resting his cheek on her hair. “I miss them, too. But they’ll all be back. And more friends will arrive. No need to be lonely, not ever again.”

  She sniffled, rubbed her nose against his shirt, and raised her head to kiss him. “And you’re not leaving,” she said. “Promise me.”

  It was as if she had asked him to promise to keep breathing, to notice sunshine, to permit the spinning of the earth. What choice did he have? Even if he left her, she would be camped in his heart, an insistent and willful presence. She would match her strides to his on any journey he ever took; she would lie beside him on any bed.

  “Amalie,” he said, “that’s the easiest promise I’ve ever had to make.”

  CHAPTER

  45

  ELLYNOR was teaching Senneth how to cook.

  Like anyone who spent much time camping, Senneth could throw together a meal of dried rations and fresh game, but she was baffled by the intricacies of spices and marinades. Truth to tell, she wasn’t even that interested in learning her way around a kitchen—but she liked working at the stove and oven. She enjoyed the close communion with fire, even when she couldn’t control it.

  She was also enjoying the chance to spend time with Ellynor, who was still something of a mystery to her. Kirra’s abrupt departure a month ago had left Senneth unexpectedly lonely for female companionship. She was friendly with Janni and the other women Riders, but with them, she didn’t have that powerful connection she shared with Kirra. She didn’t have it with Ellynor, either, but she was hopeful. It was impossible to dislike Ellynor; that should make it easy to learn to love her.

  “Now, strictly speaking, salt bread should only be offered on feast days, but Justin loves it so much that I’ve been making it fairly often,” Ellynor confessed. “Have you ever made bread? No? I think you’ll like it. It requires both energy and attention, but it always rewards you.”

  At that Senneth laughed out loud. “And you think that is the kind of activity that appeals to me? I suppose you’re right.”

  “Well, you seem to be the kind of woman who doesn’t mind hard work, as long as it results in something worthwhile,” Ellynor said with a smile. The Lirren girl had tied her long hair back in a rather sloppy braid, and a smear of flour decorated her face. She looked about seventeen, Senneth thought—but a much more contented seventeen than Senneth had ever been.

  “I might say the same thing about you,” Senneth retorted. “Although, you know, I’m not used to thinking of us as having much in common.”

  Ellynor’s smile widened. “Except that we both have difficult and domineering brothers that we’ve gone to some trouble to escape.”

  Senneth laughed again. “True. I suppose that shapes a woman more than she’d like to admit.”

  “Family always shapes you,” Ellynor said. “For good or for ill. You strive to become what your family wants you to become, or you fight to become exactly the opposite. I’ve done a little of both.” She measured out some kind of aromatic spice that was already making Senneth hungry. “You would say you’ve only fought to be free, but I think you’d be wrong about that.”

  Senneth leaned against the stove, soaking up the heat through her trousers. “I refuse to admit that I’ve done anything to please Kiernan and Nate,” she said. “But I have to say that I have never entirely been able to shake off my pride in what Brassenthwaite stands for, and I have to confess that I believe Kiernan represents Brassenthwaite admirably. Whether or not I do—” Senneth shrugged. “Not so clear.”

  “Brassenthwaite serves the crown. That’s what Justin says,” Ellynor replied. “And so do you.”

  “I do indeed,” Senneth said. “So perhaps after all I am a splendid example of my House.”

  Ellynor began slowly and methodically kneading the ingredients together. “What now?” she asked. “With the
realm more or less at peace? Will you stay in Ghosenhall? Justin says you have toyed with the idea of petitioning to become a Rider.”

  “I don’t know that I’m serious about that, but both Tayse and I feel an obligation to stay at the palace with Amalie. The kingdom is no longer under the threat of war, that’s true, but there is still some turmoil among the Houses! I think she needs us, and so we must stay. Though I am a little restless, I must admit. I cannot remember the last time my life was placid. I’m not sure I will know how to get through days that are not marked with strife and trouble.”

  Ellynor gave her a swift look from her midnight blue eyes. “You could have a baby,” she said. “That would enliven your days considerably. Have you and Tayse ever discussed that?”

  “No,” Senneth said blankly.

  “Do you think he would want a child?”

  Senneth crossed her arms on her chest and thought about it. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “He never had any deep bond with anyone in his own family. He admired his father, of course, but it was difficult to feel close to Tir. And although he’s always been kind to his mother and his sisters, it’s not like he—well, it’s not like he really thinks about them. So I have no idea how he would feel about a child of his own.”

  “He loves you,” Ellynor said. “And it would be your child. I think he would find himself head over heels in love.”

  Senneth wasn’t sure. “Maybe.” And then, since it seemed the reciprocal question should be asked, she inquired, “Do you think Justin would ever want children?”

  All of Ellynor’s attention was on the dough taking shape beneath her hands. “I hope so,” she said softly.

  Senneth jerked upright. “What? You’re pregnant?”

  Ellynor nodded.

  Senneth threw her arms around the Lirren girl. “That’s wonderful! When is the baby due? Does Justin know?”

  “I’m only a few weeks along. No, I haven’t told him yet. But I think—I’m pretty sure—he has said things that make me think—well, his own family was so dreadful. He would do anything in his power to create a better life for any child of his own.” She looked up, and her pretty face wore a smile, though there were tears in her eyes. “I think he’ll be both the gentlest and the fiercest father you ever saw.”

  Senneth wouldn’t have expected to be so delighted, but the news filled her with elation. Justin a father! Having never given such an eventuality a moment’s thought before, she now found the picture irresistible. “You’re quite right! May the gods protect anyone who offers harm to any child of Justin’s. But he’ll be absolutely struck dumb with love. Oh, this is wonderful. You have to tell him right away, so I can tell Tayse.”

  “That’s why I’m making the salt bread,” Ellynor said. “For celebration.”

  After that they talked about names and clan connections and how important it would be for a half-Lirren child to spend at least some time across the Lireth Mountains. By the time the cooking lesson was over, Senneth not only knew how to make salt bread and spiced pork roast, she found herself feeling closer to Ellynor than she ever had.

  Tayse was amused to learn that she had prepared the evening meal and careful to seem appreciative. Although he rarely had much interest in food outside of its usefulness as fuel, he praised every dish extravagantly.

  “Thank you,” she said, once the meal was over and the dishes were washed. “But I don’t know that I’m going to spend much more of my time in the kitchen. I think I like it much better when someone else cooks for me.”

  She settled down on a plush rug laid on the hearth, and Tayse built up the fire. No need for it, of course, on this early summer day, but Senneth never felt quite right unless there was a fire somewhere in her vicinity.

  Tayse carefully laid another log on the blaze, then moved back beside her. Drawing her against his chest, he extended his legs on either side of her body. She leaned against him, folded her hands over his forearms as they crossed over her waist, and experienced a moment of utter satisfaction.

  “But if I’m not going to cook, and I’m not going to fight, I need to find some other activity to keep me occupied,” she continued after a moment’s silence.

  “You’ve worked harder than anybody,” he replied. “I think you might have earned the right to a year or two of complete slothfulness.”

  “I don’t think I’m the kind of woman who can sit idle for more than a day,” she said. “Maybe I’ll take up blacksmithing again. I always enjoyed that. Maybe I’ll forge a sword for you.”

  “A dagger, perhaps,” he said. “To start with.”

  She laughed at him over her shoulder. “What? You doubt the quality of my workmanship?”

  He was grinning. “It’s just that it’s really important that a sword be of the highest caliber.”

  She settled back against him. “I’ll forge a sword for myself and challenge you to a duel. Then you’ll see how good I am at smithing.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “But I would appreciate a dagger that you crafted with your own hands. You can set a Brassenthwaite sapphire in the hilt and etch a raelynx along the blade. That would be a knife worth carrying.”

  She liked the idea. There was a blacksmith on the palace grounds, of course, a wiry middle-aged man who won every arm-wrestling challenge, even against Riders. “I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

  They were quiet a moment, relaxed, at peace. It might not be so bad after all, Senneth thought, to share an uneventful life with Tayse, puttering around the cottage, helping Amalie when requested, setting off on occasional visits to Danalustrous or Brassenthwaite or Rappengrass. Playing with Justin’s baby. Babies, perhaps, and soon, she corrected herself. The thought made her smile.

  The heat of Tayse’s body soaked through her clothes to warm her back. Her face and hands prickled from the nearness of the fire. It had been weeks since her skin felt flushed with fever, since her body had run at a dangerously high temperature. But now all the forces of the day seemed to combine and combust inside her—happiness for Ellynor, contentment with Tayse, serenity, security, a sense that her life had been graced by so many gifts that they spilled around her with abandon. Who could want more than this? Why had she been given so much?

  The top log shifted and collapsed with a shower of sparks. Senneth held her hand out as if to catch any fiery splinters that might fall so far from the grate. None did, yet she kept her hand extended, palm turned upward, feeling a line of heat track across her skin. She cupped her hand and felt the bones kindle. A tiny flame danced in the center of her palm, eager yellow, intemperate red. Only a moment, then the fire disappeared. The scent of smoke was fragrant in the air.

  “Very pretty,” Tayse said.

  Laughing, she turned in his arms to kiss him on the mouth. The hand that had summoned fire she laid against his cheek; her other hand she slipped beneath his shirt. Desire raced through her with a leaping grace, and she welcomed it, this parallel manifestation of fire. Tayse had long ago proved he was not afraid of conflagration, and he kissed her with a passion to match her own. Soon enough it was impossible to tell where flesh ended and flame began, or maybe the whole world was ablaze. If she could call no other fire for the rest of her life, Senneth thought, she would be content with this one, a fire that melted her bones and turned her skin opalescent and lit her heart so brightly from within.