“I have a way with words,” he agrees. “I think it’s why Melly chose me.”
I look at him, and warmth fills my heart for this man, however hard he may be to read. He clearly loves my cousin well, and isn’t afraid to speak of their love, acknowledge it time and again. He might make light of himself, but never her. “I’m glad she has you,” I say quietly.
That wasn’t the rejoinder he was expecting, and he goes still, looking at me. Really looking, as if there were some subtext he should have read into my words. But then he responds, just as quietly, “I’m grateful for her every day of my life.”
Beautiful man. I smile, and lean back against the sofa, and look toward the door. What would it be like to be loved like that?
Now, there’s a foolish thought. I shift, one foot flat against the ground and the other turned, and keep my gaze on the door.
“The prince should be here shortly,” Filadon says after a moment.
I nod, and even though he never did answer my question, I say nothing else.
The door opens a few minutes later. The prince enters, dressed for the morning in formal attire, a brocade knee-length sea-green coat over a cream tunic, his pants loose and flowing. He wears embroidered leather slippers with such long curling toes that I have an urge to tell Filadon that no, they are not suited to manure at all. But I refrain, rising to face the prince in silence.
“Filadon,” Kestrin says with a nod. His features are sharp, aristocratic, with high cheekbones and a defined jaw. He would look exceptionally handsome but for a grayish tinge to his features. Perhaps he’s been unwell.
Filadon bows. “Zayyid, may I present my wife’s cousin, Kelari Amraeya ni Ansarim,” he says, naming me as the daughter of my father.
“A pleasure.” Kestrin inclines his head to my curtsy.
I smile, unsure whether his words require a response. Mine too? Good to meet you? Better to keep quiet.
“Will you be staying with us long?”
“A few months, zayyid,” I reply, meeting his gaze. I had thought Filadon’s look inscrutable, but this man appears to have all the emotion of a stone. “Through summer’s end.”
“Very good. Filadon has spoken to you, I surmise.”
I dart a glance at Filadon, who merely watches us, unperturbed. Surely the prince should want to know more? “Yes, zayyid.”
“Your service will be appreciated. You will, of course, be recompensed. Most attendants receive ample reward over the course of their service, but, since you will be leaving so soon, we will make arrangements for you.”
For all that Filadon has just suggested this to me, I am disconcerted by his words, the directness of them. “I don’t require payment.”
“A reward, then,” he says, his eyes warming fractionally. “I would not have it said that we did not value you.”
I flush, ready to argue, but Filadon shifts, stepping on my good foot.
The corner of Kestrin’s mouth quirks down. “Though I honor you for your sentiment.”
He turns back to Filadon. “My betrothed is in her apartments just now. If you escort Kelari Amraeya there, they may meet.”
“As you wish, zayyid,” Filadon says, bowing. He takes my arm, pinching me gently to remind me to curtsy.
Kestrin nods and a moment later he is gone, the door closing behind him.
“That’s it?” I ask, turning to Filadon.
He shrugs, showing not the least sign of curiosity at the strangeness of Kestrin’s interview, or the quickness of his decision. “I expect Zayyida Alyrra will make the final decision.”
“I thought the decision was also mine to make.” I should at least write to my parents before deciding.
Filadon glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You committed to it when you discussed payment with him.”
“Oh.”
“Never mind.” He pats my arm in a brotherly fashion. “I’ll speak with Kestrin and make sure this ‘reward’ will suit you and your family.”
There’s not much my family needs. I follow Filadon into the hallway, pondering the possibilities. “My father’s been wanting a new stallion for our stables.”
“A new stal—” Filadon blinks at me. “You want a horse?”
“A stallion, preferably. We’ve got good breeding mares, but—”
“Shh.” Filadon darts a glance over his shoulder, but the hallway lies empty. “Someone might hear you.”
“I can’t imagine why that would be a problem.”
“Rae,” Filadon says, with great patience. “It’s best not to speak about breeding animals while in the palace.”
I eye him askance. “I’m quite certain half the gossip in this place has to do with marriage. Not to mention rumors about illicit affairs. I can’t believe discussing horses is somehow worse.”
His mouth compresses into a half-amused grimace. “You are correct, but you’ll still have to trust me on this one, Rae.”
“Fine,” I say, heaving a sigh. “Baba will be disappointed.”
Filadon exhales with a laugh. “I’m glad you’re so positive about taking the post now.”
“I’m not,” I say with perfect honesty. “However, I can always do something abysmally stupid when I meet the princess and then she won’t have me.”
Filadon pauses mid-stride, his mouth half open.
“There’s always a way out if you look hard enough,” I observe. “You’re a bit too rule-bound in this court of yours.”
“We’re something,” Filadon agrees. “What, exactly, I leave to you to figure out.”
Chapter
10
Filadon guides me up a back stair and through a guard room to the royal wing. There, he knocks at one of several exquisitely carved and inlaid doors. A beautifully dressed young woman answers. She curtsies and then looks past Filadon to me, brown eyes sharp.
“My relation, Kelari Amraeya, here to see the princess,” Filadon says.
“Of course. You are expected.” The woman steps aside to allow me entry. I watch her face as I step in, and feel the old irritation as her features jump in surprise before she recovers herself, cool amusement showing instead. “Have you twisted your ankle?” she asks lightly.
“No,” I assure her. “This is how I walk.”
“Ah.” She glances toward Filadon, expression bland. “Verin?”
“Kelari Amraeya is still learning her way around the palace. I would appreciate it if you would call a page to escort her back to my apartments.”
“I’m sure it won’t be long,” she says, which doesn’t strike me as a particularly nice thing to say.
Filadon’s eyes darken, but he merely dips his head and departs. I follow the lady—an attendant, I would guess—through a wide welcoming hall, low sofas lining the wall interspersed with exquisitely carved tables bearing the ubiquitous silver trays, as well as painted vases and various other gold and silver knickknacks. I suppose we might sell our herd of horses and buy the contents of this room, but that would leave us without enough to afford the rest of our house.
The princess sits at a dressing table in her chamber, her embroidered skirts spread around her, watching as a tall young woman proffers various jewels for her consideration. Alyrra is young, younger than I am, but the intelligence of her eyes and solemnity of her expression suggest a maturity well beyond her years. I study her covertly, keeping my head slightly bent. Being from the western kingdoms, she has the pale skin and lighter-colored hair of those peoples, though not terribly so: her cheeks have a faint natural blush that grants her some color, and her hair is a deep brown.
She waves her hand to dismiss the jewelry before her and turns toward me with a polite smile. I sink into a somewhat jerky curtsy.
“May I present Kelari Amraeya,” the first attendant says briskly.
“Welcome to Tarinon, kelari,” the princess says, her tone neutral.
“Thank you, zayyida.” I rise from my curtsy, silently cursing my clumsiness, aware of the disbelieving look the tall atte
ndant bestows on me, as if I were accentuating my clubfoot on purpose.
“How long will you be staying with us?”
“Till summer’s end,” I say, resolving to ignore the attendants. At least for now.
Alyrra tilts her head. “How have you found the city so far?”
I hesitate, unsure what she means by her question. “It seems a great and varied place, zayyida, but I’ve really only seen a little of the city. It’s still all very new.”
“I see.” She turns to her attendants. “Where might we be able to see the city from the palace?”
The taller attendant gives an elegant little shrug. “We rarely have occasion to look at the city from here. Perhaps you might try the palace walls.”
Zayyida Alyrra looks at her, waiting, but no further answer is forthcoming. “There is nowhere else you might suggest?”
“Not that I know of,” the woman says. Her companion who escorted me here makes no response at all, her head bent. Surely the princess shouldn’t be climbing the walls to look at the city? I cannot make out if they want Alyrra to go or not—are they setting her up for a social fall, or do they really think this appropriate?
“The palace walls it is,” Alyrra says cheerfully, rising from her seat.
The tall one’s lip curls with amusement. My hands tighten into fists, hidden among my skirts, and have to consciously relax them as I step aside for the princess to pass. I no longer have any doubt that princesses are not supposed to climb the palace walls; if nothing else, her attendants should have suggested a different sort of outing. Surely the princess realizes that?
“But you haven’t finished dressing, zayyida,” the lady who met me at the door says belatedly. Perhaps she does care.
“The jewelry can wait.”
“Your visit with Veria Dinari?”
Alyrra spreads her hands. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned here, Zaria, it’s that no one is ever on time. I might as well be fashionable for once.”
A faint smile curves Zaria’s lips, but she wipes it away at once. If she’s Zaria, I’d stake my favorite saddle on the taller woman being Jasmine. No wonder Alyrra’s looking for another attendant.
“Walk beside me,” Alyrra says to me, starting forward. “We can talk along the way.”
I hurry to catch up, but she says nothing more until we have left her apartment and descended the great sweeping staircase that serves as the main entrance to the royal wing. “Jasmine, Zaria, would you lead the way?”
“Oh, we have barely ever visited the walls,” Jasmine says, spreading her hands wide, as if this wasn’t her idea in the first place.
“Of course,” the princess says. “I can’t imagine you would have. Come, Amraeya, I’m sure we shall find them well enough ourselves.”
Jasmine and Zaria tag along behind us, letting forth the occasional barely audible remark or stifled laugh. Remembering the princess’s face when I entered the room, I can’t believe her oblivious to the snubs of her attendants. But for whatever reason, she’s chosen not to respond to them. Now she asks me about my family, the town where I grew up, even the various roles I fill on our ranch.
“I worked a little with horses,” she remarks as we emerge from a side door onto the paved road that circles the palace. The walls loom above us. Alyrra seems to know her way out perfectly well. “It was one of the more difficult choices I have been faced with: to take the position of hostler, or return to being princess.”
I glance at her quizzically, but she seems perfectly serious. “Are you happy with your decision?” I ask, because this I do need to know about her, if I am to be her attendant.
“It depends on the company and the time of day.” She smiles. “Horses are a great deal easier to get along with.”
“Most horses,” I agree.
“Most days,” she returns.
I grin and glance up at the walls, looming ever bigger before us. “Zayyida?”
“Yes?” she asks, slowing slightly.
I gather my courage, aware that Jasmine and Zaria are not all that far behind us, and say, “I am not sure that it is done for royalty to visit the walls.”
She takes my arm and says, her voice strangely cheerful, “I appreciate your concern, kelari. Come along.”
We come to a stop before the gates. The guards have snapped to attention, but their eyes keep running over our little group as if they can’t quite comprehend what we are doing here. “I am looking for the stairway up,” the princess says to them. “I am hoping for a view of the city, and my attendants think you will know better than they how to find it.”
One of the soldiers steps forward, a silver ring through his ear proclaiming his status as captain. “Zayyida wishes a view from the walls?”
“If it can be arranged.”
He bows. “Of course. Is there a particular part of the city you wish to see?”
“The west side.”
“If you will follow me.” He leads us farther down the wall. At intervals we pass doors built into the wall, until, reaching a particular one, the captain opens the door to reveal a tight staircase, each flight built above the previous.
“Oh!” Jasmine cranes her head to look up. “I don’t think I can handle such a height.”
“Then stay below,” Alyrra suggests gently. “I would not want you to overexert yourself. You may both wait here. We shall be down shortly.”
She turns back to me, hesitates. “Will the stairs be all right for you?”
“Just fine,” I assure her.
“I should have asked sooner,” she murmurs, so quietly I’m not sure if she’s speaking to me or herself. Still, I like her very much for it.
Three long flights up, we step onto the ramparts. A cool spring breeze blows, tugging at our hair and rippling our skirts around us. The princess walks forward to lean against the edge of the wall, gazing out over the city. I wait a step behind her.
“What do you see?” she asks.
I move forward, my hands reaching out to touch the white stone. The city spreads out before me: the same road that I drove in from, filled with buildings crammed together, laundry flapping on rooftops, and below, tight alleys disappearing into shadow. Down the great road that runs here, I spot children playing, though they are too small and far away to see clearly. Still, I remember what I saw from my drive up the road well enough. But what does the princess want me to say? Surely it would be rude to raise issues with her in our very first meeting?
“I see a city far greater than the town I live near,” I hedge. She waits. I look out. The people below move quickly, appearing and disappearing from view. I can make out a few run-down shops, though what they sell, I cannot be sure. What else should I say?
She lets out her breath and steps back from the wall.
“There is a great deal of want,” I say, the words a little too fast. She pauses, turning toward me. I go on. It’s not like I’ll have this chance again. “More than I’ve seen in Sheltershorn. The children are not well clothed; the people do not—I can’t say what it is, but they don’t look well. The buildings are old; they haven’t been repaired in a long time.” I point out over the nearest rooftops. “There is one that has fallen in on itself.”
“What do you think of it all?” she asks.
I turn my head to meet her gaze. She watches me keenly, her features schooled into pleasant curiosity but her eyes sparking with eagerness. “It’s a pity,” I say finally. “But perhaps if you see it as well, then something might be done.”
“Shall I fix the building that has fallen in on itself?” she asks.
“Not the building,” I say, trying not to sound like Bean when someone asks something utterly ridiculous. I’m relatively certain the princess is testing me, but it’s hard not to laugh at such a question. “You might look to the children.”
She gazes out over the wall. “I might,” she agrees. “I have heard,” she goes on slowly, “that some children are snatched and never found again.”
Hope spik
es through me, and I press my lips together firmly to keep from grinning at her, or blurting something overeager.
She looks at me when I don’t answer.
“Yes,” I say softly.
“What happens to them?”
I take a breath, my thoughts flying to Ani and her grieving family. “In our town, we believe they are sold into slavery.”
“Where?”
I shake my head. “Away somewhere. In other lands.”
“It seems strange that so little should be known. Do the children never escape?”
She meets my gaze, and I realize in that moment that she knows. That this conversation is to find out about me, rather than the snatchers. “They do sometimes,” I say quietly. “They are taken to the Speakers for a blessing to prevent the Darkness—a sort of illness in the blood that can destroy their minds if left unchecked. The Blessing leaves them their minds, but takes a portion of their memories.”
“Interesting.”
I blink. “Zayyida?” I ask uncertainly.
“Interesting how people are too terrified to ask their children what happened to them before the Blessing, and how little good it does to ask such questions afterward. Don’t you think?”
I hesitate. “No one knows when the Darkness might strike. There are rumors that it can take a child while they tell their story; I don’t know if such tales are true, but I doubt a family would be willing to risk it. But you’re right. It does no good to ask afterward.”
“Indeed.” Alyrra leans against the wall, half-turned toward me.
Although the Darkness does not always take our children. Not if they leave the villages and towns, traveling deep into the plains, or even into the mountains. Why that should help, I don’t know, but it does. I always assumed everyone knew this, but perhaps it is known more in the country than the city. I open my mouth to say as much, but Alyrra speaks first. “I suppose a princess who knows nothing of such things can hardly hope to change them.”
No. She’s supposed to care, as are Zayyid Kestrin and the king. They’re supposed to do something about this. Why bring up the snatchers if only to assert her own perceived helplessness?
The Theft of Sunlight Page 6