by Sharon Shinn
“I thought you didn’t care for him.”
“I don’t! But it is very peculiar to think that someone you know, someone you’ve danced with, someone you might marry, is about to be murdered.”
“It would probably be Cormac,” Marco answered. “He’s the crown prince. His death would be impossible to overlook.”
“And are there any plans to—to carry out the act?”
Now Marco expelled his breath on a long, angry sigh. “I thought there were, but suddenly Orenza is backing off again.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“The governor has told the king that he will keep Orenza in check and promote peace throughout the western provinces if Cormac marries the governor’s daughter.”
“Marries— Oh, that explains it!”
“Explains what?”
“When Jordan was here, I asked about Cormac’s wedding plans, because for years everyone thought he would marry Vivienne of Thelleron. But Jordan said there was no announcement in the offing. That’s why! Harold will risk the anger of Thelleron to keep peace with Orenza.”
Marco made a scoffing sound. “Thelleron will never rebel. Not even if the prince ruptures his engagement. It is a smart move, if you’re Harold. Marry Cormac to Orenza, marry Jordan to Alberta. Harold himself is already married to a woman from Empara. He could hope to generate goodwill for generations.”
Elyssa took a deep breath. “So you think it’s settled? You think that’s what will happen? Marriages—and peace?”
Another indeterminate sound from Marco. “Maybe. Hard to tell. I think it will go one way or another. Weddings and peace—or assassination and war.”
Elyssa was silent a moment. “It feels strange,” she said at last, “knowing that I might play such a big part. I’m not sure I like it.”
I thought he kissed her hand again. “No one I know is more qualified to play such a part with grace.”
“But that girl from Orenza—the governor’s daughter. She has an even bigger part, I suppose,” said Elyssa.
“Do you know her?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met her. Orenza is a little provincial for my tastes, and she’s never been to Camarria anytime I was there. She has three echoes, though, I know that. And her name is—is—Marguerite. I can’t believe I remembered it.”
“You’ll remember it well enough if she gets engaged to Cormac.”
“It’s all very exciting,” she answered. “And a little unnerving.”
“A lot of changes are about to come our way,” Marco agreed. “It will take bold souls to withstand them all—and to capitalize on the opportunities.”
“You should do well, then. You’re the boldest man I know.”
“And you, Elyssa?” he said, dropping his voice to a caress. “Are you bold enough reap the harvest of revolution?”
Her voice huffed out in a sound that was half a laugh, half a gasp. I thought maybe he had placed his hands on her waist, drawing her closer. I felt invisible fingers on my own body, digging in just below my ribs. “I think I can match you,” she said a little breathlessly.
After that, they did not speak for a long time. I was glad that the man had no echoes, glad that Elyssa had released the three of us, so that I did not know exactly what transpired between them for the next twenty minutes. As it was, I felt strange, unwelcome pressures on my mouth, my hips, my body, as their embrace intensified. Then suddenly all sense of contact ceased as Elyssa gasped and jumped to her feet with such urgency that the other echoes and I did the same thing. My breath came short and fast, and I put my hands to my cheeks, though neither of the echoes copied me. We were still only partly connected to Elyssa—but there was no way to mistake her passion and unease.
“No—I can’t—not here and now, at all events,” she said in a ragged voice.
I thought I heard Marco come to his feet. “Should I apologize, or should I promise to keep trying to earn your love?” he asked, his own voice uneven, though he tried to infuse it with sarcasm. “We’ve been at this brink many times before, and it’s always ended this way.”
A small susurrating sound; maybe she kissed him. “Someday it will end differently, but for now we both have our parts to play, and neither of us can afford a distraction.”
His laugh sounded bitter. “If you think you are just a distraction—”
“I think your heart lies with the revolution, not with me.”
“I think the revolution might deliver my heart to you,” he countered.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’m a merchant’s son. No high noblewoman would ever consider me a candidate for her hand. But if I serve well in an action against the crown, I could end up with wealth and property of my own. Everything changes if we win this war. The stakes are more personal for me than you realize.”
She was silent a long moment, seeming to ponder his words. “If that’s the truth—”
“It is.”
There was second long silence, but this time I thought it passed in another kiss. Finally she whispered, “Then I am ready for the revolution to begin.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elyssa spent the next two weeks alternately moping around the house, lashing out at the servants for the slightest infraction, and displaying an almost feverish gaiety anytime she had occasion to join some social event. Lord Roland happened to be at one of those dinner parties, and he spent the first hour staring at her woefully across the room. She never once looked in his direction, but laughed and flirted so determinedly with every other man in the room that I saw him abruptly spin on his heel and stalk out. I assumed he left the house, since he didn’t make another appearance that night.
In her own household, perhaps only her father remained unaffected by her moods. Her aunt Hodia developed the habit of leaving the breakfast room before Elyssa came down in the mornings, and calling for dinner in her room whenever there weren’t other guests at the table. The servants went to great lengths to avoid interacting with Elyssa, except for Trima, who told her flatly that she would give her notice if her mistress didn’t start treating her with more courtesy.
“You wouldn’t leave me after all these years,” Elyssa scoffed.
“Maybe not,” Trima said, jerking a comb through the black curls with such force that Elyssa actually yelped. “But I might accidentally fry your hair with a curling tong or sew one sleeve of your gown too short. You watch how you speak to me.”
That made Elyssa laugh with genuine amusement for the first time in ten days, but after that she did speak civilly, at least to Trima.
When, at the end of that second week, her father called her into his study for a private conversation, I wondered if he was about to deliver a stern reprimand of his own. But Lord Bentam was so wrapped up in his own concerns it was highly possible he hadn’t even noticed Elyssa’s temper.
“Don’t bother to sit,” he said as the four of us filed in through the door. “But I thought you’d want to know the news.”
“What is it?”
He waved a heavy cream envelope in front of his face with such satisfaction it might have been perfumed with his favorite scent in the whole kingdom. “It appears that Prince Cormac is making a tour of the western provinces and he intends to make a stop in Alberta. While he is here, he has asked if he can stay at our house. Naturally I have told him yes.”
My first thought was concern for the crown prince, who might be riding toward his death, if assassination was still being plotted. I thought Elyssa might be having the same thoughts, though plainly she couldn’t say so without revealing her secret meeting with Marco. She leaned casually against the wall, crossing her arms, and her echoes copied her.
“Brave prince!” she said lightly. “All this talk of revolution, and yet he still feels safe sleeping overnight in manors throughout the western provinces.”
Bentam grunted. “He would hardly come to grief under some lord’s roof. It would be too obvious who had done him in! Harold’s not abo
ve having a high noble executed for treason right there in the public square if he thought anyone had tried to harm one of his children. No, Cormac’s safe enough as long as everyone knows where he is.”
“Then he’s not so brave after all,” Elyssa said. “When do you expect him?”
“In three weeks. Best start preparing now.”
The excitement in the household upon learning of Prince Jordan’s visit was nothing to the uproar that descended when we heard that Prince Cormac would be passing through. Even though he and his companions would only be staying one night, the housekeeper insisted that every room be aired and scrubbed, every servant be outfitted with new clothing, and the entire countryside scoured for the plumpest pigs, chickens, and cows to be slaughtered for the feast.
“Such a fuss for a man no one in the entire province even likes,” Elyssa muttered one day over breakfast when the tea urn was unavailable because it was in the kitchen being polished.
Hodia frowned at her. “He honors us by staying in our household, so we honor him by offering him our best,” she said.
While Elyssa pretended to be annoyed by all the turmoil, my guess was that she was secretly thrilled Cormac would be visiting. From listening to conversations she’d had with Trima, I’d gathered that she’d met the crown prince many times during visits to the royal city of Camarria.
“He doesn’t like me any more than Jordan does, but he’s always polite,” she said as Trima styled her hair in elaborate braids and loops. The new maid was moving as quickly as she could between the three echoes, trying to produce a simplified version of Elyssa’s grand coiffure. An outrider had arrived around noon to say the prince expected to be on our doorstep in time for dinner, so the frenzy in the household had reached a fever pitch.
“It’s probably just your father he doesn’t like,” Trima said with a sniff. “He knows Lord Bentam is not a supporter of the crown.”
Elyssa laughed. “No, it’s me. I can always tell.”
“I don’t know how any man could dislike a girl as beautiful as you,” Trima answered.
I was sitting close enough to see Elyssa lift her eyes to seek Trima’s in the mirror. “Don’t you?” she said quietly. Trima met her gaze steadily and didn’t answer.
That was the only time I ever witnessed anything pass between them indicating Elyssa was a monster and they both knew it.
We dressed in delightful confections of gold silk and blond lace, colors that made Elyssa’s dark hair look black as coal. Elyssa wore so many amethysts I gave up trying to count them. Her most striking piece of jewelry was a necklace that she often wore on grand occasions. It consisted of three interlocking gold rings, each about two inches in diameter; the somewhat triangular space where they intersected was set with a large, smooth amethyst of wine-dark purple. The echoes and I were more modestly bedecked with a few strategic jewels that people would only notice if they looked at us. Which, of course, they wouldn’t.
As soon as every curl had been patted in place, every gem secured, Elyssa gathered the echoes to her and we made our way downstairs to await the prince’s arrival. Her father and Hodia were already in the formal drawing room. Bentam only grunted in approval when he saw Elyssa, but Hodia came over to give her a close inspection.
“You look very good,” she approved. “It helps that you’re such a beautiful girl.”
“Trima said much the same thing,” Elyssa said in a mocking voice. “Where would I be without my good looks?”
“You mean if you had to rely on your sweet nature?” Hodia said dryly. “I can’t think.”
Elyssa actually laughed at that. She didn’t bother to reply because just then one of the footmen came running in, excited and out of breath. “The prince has been spotted! He will be here in ten minutes!”
“Excellent,” Hodia said. “We are ready.”
The impression I formed of Cormac was not quite as favorable as the one I had formed of Jordan, though I had less time to observe him and he was certainly an appealing man. He was handsomer than his brother, with coloring almost as dramatic as Elyssa’s and hair just as dark. He held himself with a regal self-assurance that was both attractive and a bit off-putting, as if he would always reserve some part of himself that you could never get to know. He smiled less easily than Jordan, and although he was perfectly polite to everyone, from the nobles to the servants, he didn’t seem as kind as I’d decided Jordan was. Perhaps the weight of expectations sat heavily on him. He knew he was next in line to rule the Kingdom of the Seven Jewels, and he never for an instant forgot his responsibilities.
Like Jordan, he had three echoes. Like Jordan’s, his echoes were so present and alert that you could almost believe they were as real, as human, as the prince. When one of them took my arm to lead me into dinner, his skin was so warm and his clasp was so firm that I had to sneak a quick sideways glance to make sure he wasn’t Cormac. The instant I did so, I felt a spurt of panic. He was looking down at me with an intent expression, as if listening closely for an answer I was about to give to an important question he had asked. His eyes met mine and I could have believed he was taking in every passing emotion on my face.
Then I heard Elyssa laugh and make a light reply, though I was so flustered I didn’t catch the words. Cormac was gazing at Elyssa, so his echo was gazing at me. Nothing more sinister than that. But I would need to be careful during this blessedly brief visit. It did not seem beyond the bounds of possibility that Cormac’s echoes were as alive as I was, possibly even gathering information that they could, in some fashion, share with their original. I would have to behave like an ordinary echo, even if they didn’t, to avoid rousing suspicions.
The meal was sumptuous and absolutely endless. When I wasn’t concentrating on my food, I was surreptitiously glancing around the dining hall, trying to determine who was present. The room was about as full as it could be: The prince had brought a handful of his own friends, some with echoes and some without, and Lord Bentam had invited a few of the nearest neighbors. All of the local guests were high nobles, but only a couple of them had echoes. I was sure that was deliberate. Bentam wanted to make it very clear who the most important people in the room were.
While Cormac was the clear focus of attention, another man in the party kept drawing my eyes. He was big and burly, with hair and a beard in a brightly burnished shade of reddish gold. He drank heavily and laughed loudly and seemed to make the young woman next to him very uncomfortable. She was a neighbor’s daughter, a shy girl named Velda, with a mousy appearance and no echoes. It seemed to me that, as the evening progressed, she edged her chair farther and farther from the laughing lord and studiously refrained from looking in his direction. As far as I could tell, the only person in the room who noticed her distress was her brother, who was seated too far away to intervene.
Well. Perhaps Elyssa noticed her. More than once, emulating Elyssa as she turned her head, I sent a quick glance in Velda’s direction. Then a small, malicious smile curled my lips and was instantly banished.
The meal was halfway over when the lord made some intemperate gesture that sent his wineglass toppling to the table. Fortunately, he had drained it so completely that there was hardly a drop left to soil the tablecloth, but it landed against a crystal bowl with enough of a clatter that everyone finally looked his way.
“Jamison, behave yourself,” Cormac said sternly.
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Jamison protested. “You behave yourself.”
Cormac made a half-bow in Lord Bentam’s direction. “Forgive my brother,” he said. “We have been on the road for weeks, and he tends to get rambunctious.”
Bentam gestured for the footman to pour Jamison more wine and spoke in an indulgent voice. “As all young men do,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to be back in Camarria.”
“I believe we all will be,” said Cormac. “This is our final stop before we head home.”
“So what else have you seen on your travels? Who have you visited?”
Cormac launched into a travelogue while I sat there puzzling over his words. My brother, he had said. Then this must be King Harold’s illegitimate son, born before he married his first wife. The few times his name had been mentioned in my hearing, he had been spoken of with impatience and contempt. Apparently, his behavior tonight was typical. I wondered why Cormac allowed him to act so badly. I wondered what kindhearted Prince Jordan thought of his half brother’s antics. I wondered if Elyssa had deliberately seated Velda next to the bastard prince because she didn’t like Velda. I doubted I would ever know the answer to any of my questions.
The meal finally ended, all the diners so replete that I found it difficult to believe they could rise to their feet and shuffle to the drawing room for more wine and some light musical entertainment. Yet they all did. There was a great deal of maneuvering and shifting as the various guests tried to position themselves to catch Cormac’s eye, or at least find themselves in a group of congenial conversational partners. After about an hour of this, a moment came when Elyssa, Lord Bentam, and Prince Cormac—and the eight echoes they had between them—found themselves in a small circle with no one else near enough to overhear a quiet exchange of words.
“Excellent,” said Cormac in a low voice. “I did not want to make a general announcement over dinner, but I am sponsoring a small get-together in Camarria in a couple of weeks, and I am hoping Lady Elyssa can attend.”
“Of course she can,” Bentam replied instantly.
I thought Cormac tried to hide his smile at the lord’s eagerness. “I have been inviting young men and women from all over the kingdom and hope to entertain them for a month. It will be a small party—twelve women and as many men, if you count myself and my brother Jordan—and all of them from the noblest houses.”
Even I could interpret that. All of them with multiple echoes.
Bentam was nodding sagely. “A very select group.”
“Naturally, you would not want to describe such an event in front of Velda, if she is not to come,” Elyssa said.
Cormac gave her an unreadable look. “Precisely,” he said. “Besides, I am not sure she would be eager to visit the royal city after tonight.”