Reader And Raelynx

CHAPTER 8

KIRRA spent the next day with Senneth-Cammon could feel their merriment all afternoon as they browsed the shops of Ghosenhall-but before nightfall she presented herself at the palace and claimed her usual room. Naturally, as a high-ranking serramarra, she was invited to join the formal dinner that night, and she sat next to Delt Helven and spent the entire meal charming him.

She also, Cammon could tell, spent the whole meal trying hard not to look at Romar Brendyn.

She had fallen in love with Romar Brendyn last summer as the regent joined them on their tour of the prominent Houses. He was married, of course; his wife, Belinda, even now sat a few chairs over from him, round with her first pregnancy. Kirra had used magic to make the regent forget that he had cared for her in return, but she had not had recourse to any such spells to heal her own heart. Donnal had always adored her, and she had finally allowed herself to love him back, serf’s son though he was; but there was still a great ache inside her when she was anywhere near Romar Brendyn. Cammon could feel it through the entire meal, her clenched core of sadness, alleviated not at all by her light flirtations with the Helven lord and the Brassenthwaite man who sat on her other side.

Romar Brendyn was deep in conversations of his own, but from time to time the sound of Kirra’s laugh could catch his attention so hard that his head would turn and he would pause to look at her a moment before completing whatever sentence he had been uttering. A mixed, inchoate mess of emotions seized the regent every time he glanced at the golden serramarra. Cammon could sort them out much more easily than the regent could himself. Basic male appreciation for a lovely woman-admiration for her quick intelligence-an inexplicable wistfulness-a sudden surge of confusion-and an abrupt realization that he had a wife, he loved his wife, his wife was carrying their child. Romar’s eyes invariably would go from Kirra’s face to Belinda’s, and he would smile, and some of his bewilderment would fade.

This sequence of blocked memories and remembered responsibilities occurred perhaps ten times during the course of the meal. By the end of it, Cammon was not surprised that Kirra was feeling a little grim underneath her bright exterior.

No one else at the table was having to work so hard to have an enjoyable time. Delt Helven was still nervous, Amalie still gracious, the other visitors happy just to be in the room with royalty. By most standards, a successful meal.

“Let’s withdraw to the salon, shall we?” Baryn said as the dinner came to a close. “Perhaps another glass of wine and a little conversation before we end the evening.”

Chairs scraped on the floor as people stood, talking quietly to their neighbors. Belinda exited on the king’s arm, Amalie accompanied by Delt Helven. Kirra had been detained when a young Merrenstow woman asked her a question, and so she wasn’t able to escape when the regent approached her.

“Serra Kirra,” Romar greeted her. He was almost as fair as Kirra, with dark gold hair tied back from his strongly modeled face. “It has been some time since you have last graced us with your presence.”

The Merrenstow woman curtseyed and left; Kirra was left face-to-face with her former lover. Cammon knew he was supposed to follow the others into the adjoining salon, but he lingered in the hallway just outside the dining room, listening. He could feel Kirra’s sudden panic.

It didn’t show. “Lord Romar!” she exclaimed. “I wondered if you might be here. Have you abandoned your estates entirely so that you might stay close to Amalie?”

“I’m afraid I have,” he said. “I travel back once a month or so, but I am much in demand here. In the past I had left my wife to care for the land while I was absent, but, as you see, she is in a delicate state, and I do not like to have her there without me.”

“Yes, I had heard you were expecting a child. You must be so pleased.”

“Excited and afraid,” he amended.

“I think all new fathers feel the same,” she said.

“There is news from Danalustrous, I hear,” he said. “Your sister is to marry Senneth’s brother Will. An excellent match by any measure.”

“Yes, and I am delighted for her, but oh!-the wedding preparations! I think I shall be driven mad. You will know how frantic we have been when I tell you that I came to Ghosenhall for a little peace, for it is never quiet in Ghosenhall.”

As she spoke, Cammon could pick up a small spiral of actual pain rising through her bones. She was digging her fingernails into her palms, perhaps, or holding her hands behind her back and pinching her flesh. Yet her voice retained its easy lilt, and her face no doubt still showed its warm smile.

“How long do you plan to stay?” Romar asked. “Will you be joining us every night?”

She laughed. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I cannot commit to endless dinners! I am very restless, you know, and not very proper. I am sure I will be pursuing much more entertaining activities that do not revolve around the social life in the palace.”

Cammon could hear the clink of plates and silver being piled together as servants started to clear the table. Kirra, he thought, might be edging for the door, but Romar Brendyn was not yet inclined to leave. Cammon could sense the regent’s puzzlement-Why am I standing here exchanging inanities with this woman? Yet I cannot bring myself to walk out the door-and his complete focus on Kirra.

“And how have you been, serra?” the regent asked in a low voice. “Safe, I hope? I remember some of our adventures from last summer, when it seemed you endangered yourself every other day.”

It was as if Kirra had been knifed in the heart. Cammon felt her pain that clearly. Yet her voice was steady still. “I believe you were the one who was endangered, lord. I happened to be nearby once or twice when you needed rescuing.”

Romar sounded amused. “Perhaps. Although I think our recollections differ.”

“Oh,” she said, “I believe that is often the case.”

Cammon could stand it no longer. He reentered the room and bowed to them both, then turned his attention to Kirra. “Serra,” he said. “Serra Senneth has sent me to fetch you. Are you free?”

“Senneth is as bad as you are,” the regent remarked. “She tries to avoid meals in the king’s dining room as often as she can.”

Cammon offered Kirra his arm, and her hand closed spasmodically over it. Yet she managed to respond lightly to Romar Brendyn. “Still, I had better go see what she wants,” she said. “I’m so glad we had a chance to catch up tonight.”

Again, a moment’s confusion passed over the regent’s face, and then he bowed. “Yes. Very glad. I hope to see you again while you are in residence at the palace.” And he bowed again and finally left the room.

Kirra gasped and doubled over, her unbound hair falling over her shoulders and trailing on the floor. The serving girls gaped at her, then hurriedly gathered up more plates and left the room.

“Kirra,” Cammon said, grabbing her shoulders, pulling her upright, and taking her in a rough embrace. He sent out a frantic call for Senneth, careful not to alert Donnal that there was any trouble. “Kirra. Kirra. Sit down a minute. You’re trembling. Do you want some wine?”

She shook her head. “No-I’m-I’ll be fine. I’ve seen him a half dozen times since last summer, it shouldn’t still be so hard. But when he looks at me-and he doesn’t remember-and yet he almost remembers…Cammon, it is like I can’t breathe.”

“I know,” he said, tightening his arms around her. For a long moment, they stood in silence, Kirra trembling in Cammon’s embrace. He could feel the despair inside her chest, like a silver bubble the size of a clenched fist. He stroked one hand over her curly hair and imagined that silver turning to white, iridescing, and slowly shimmering away into nothing.

She jerked upright in his arms and pulled away, staring at him in wonder. “What did you do?” she asked suspiciously. She was trying to frown but Cammon could pick up her sense of overwhelming relief.

He opened his eyes wide, to indicate innocence. “What? Nothing.”

“Yes, you did-you-I don’t feel so bad. All of a sudden. You did something.”

“Well-”

But he didn’t have to answer. Senneth came skidding in from the kitchen door, Tayse a pace behind her. She looked apprehensive and he savage. Tayse had a knife already loose in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” the Rider demanded. He glanced around. “Where’s Amalie?”

“Amalie’s fine,” Cammon said. He should have realized Senneth would bring Tayse along to any nonspecific emergency. “I was worried about Kirra.”

Now Tayse’s gaze locked on Kirra, but since she wasn’t bleeding, he instantly dismissed any concerns about her immediate danger. “What’s wrong with her?”

Kirra had freed herself completely from Cammon’s hold and was smoothing down her hair and gown. “Nothing. I’m fine. Everyone is alive and healthy.”

“Then why did Cammon call for us?”

But Senneth had figured it out. Her gray eyes glanced quickly around the room and she mentally peopled the chairs with noble guests. “I suppose the regent is in the other room with his niece,” she said.

Kirra smiled with an effort. “I suppose he is.”

Comprehension came to Tayse’s face. Not until that moment did he sheathe his weapon. “Well, one thing we know,” he said, not sounding at all disgruntled about rushing to a rescue that turned out to be unnecessary, “Cammon can certainly grab our attention when he needs us. That’ll work in our favor someday.”

Cammon nodded. Senneth took Kirra’s arm. “Are you expected in the salon? Or can you come with us?”

Kirra nodded her head toward Cammon. “He came in and announced that you needed me. So I don’t think anyone will mind if I disappear with you now.”

“Good. Then come back and help me go through all the linens we bought today. You know I’m hopeless with household goods.”

Kirra smiled. “That sounds like a marvelous idea.”

They turned toward the door to the kitchen, Tayse in the lead, Senneth still keeping one hand firmly on Kirra’s arm. But Kirra turned back once to give Cammon a wide-eyed look and mouth the word thanks. Senneth also glanced back before she disappeared through the door, but her own expression was narrowed and thoughtful. He had surprised her again, he could tell, and she was annoyed at herself for continuing to be astonished. As the door closed between them, she kept her eyes on his face, and he could practically hear the words in her head: What else is this boy capable of?

IN the morning, Delt Helven was gone and no new beaux were expected until tomorrow. Milo, clearly disapproving, told Cammon that the princess wanted his company anyway. Cammon donned another clean uniform and hurried to the rose study.

He was surprised to find Donnal leaving just as he arrived. Donnal must have interpreted his expression, for a smile showed through his dark beard.

“What are you doing here?” Cammon asked.

“I always visit the princess whenever Kirra and I first arrive,” Donnal replied. “We became friendly last summer when I guarded her rooms, so she likes me to drop by.” He shrugged slightly. Donnal was used to obeying the orders of imperious women. It wouldn’t occur to him to refuse. “I think she enjoys the company now and then.”

It was stupid to feel even the smallest spurt of jealousy. Donnal had only recently become Kirra’s lover, but he had been devoted to her most of his life. Lucky for Cammon, Donnal was a shape-shifter, not a reader. “That’s kind of you,” Cammon said. “I think she’s often lonely.”

“She has the queen for company,” Donnal replied.

Cammon laughed. “I’m not sure Valri is always entertaining.”

Donnal nodded expressively and departed. Cammon shook off his mood and pushed open the study door.

Valri was sitting at a desk in the corner, apparently writing out correspondence. She glanced up when Cammon entered, but immediately returned her attention to her letter. Amalie waved him over from where she sat in one of the chairs grouped before the window. On a table nearby rested a whole tray full of after-breakfast treats.

Cammon settled beside her and happily picked out a tart. “What horrible weather,” Amalie said in greeting. Instead of the sunshine they had enjoyed for the past few days, lashing winds tossed around low gray clouds, and angry rain spit against the glass.

“Glad I’m not a Rider today,” Cammon said with some satisfaction. “These are the days they make it a point to practice outside. Just to prove to themselves weather won’t slow them down in a battle.”

“That would seem to be a very welcome sort of magic,” the princess observed, “the ability to dissipate the weather. Bring on the sun, or call in the rain. Do any mystics have such a gift?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” he said. “But that would be an excellent gift.”

“I don’t know much about magic,” Amalie said. “What kinds there are-and why some people have it and some people don’t.”

“Senneth thinks magic is a gift from the gods,” he said. “And that there are a dozen or so gods-most of them forgotten. The Bright Mother is the goddess of the sun, and she passes on the ability to call fire, at least that’s what Senneth thinks. Kirra has begun to send her prayers to the Wild Mother, who watches over all the beasts.”

“That makes sense, because Kirra so often takes animal shape,” said Amalie. “What other gods are there?”

“The people of the Lirrens worship the Dark Watcher, or the Black Mother, who apparently offers them all sorts of powers. Justin’s wife, Ellynor, is a healer, but she also has the ability to hide herself, literally make herself disappear. She says her brothers can do the same thing. I suppose the Black Mother is a goddess of secrets. Things you whisper in the middle of the night.”

Amalie smiled. “I like that. But what about you? Who gives you your power?”

“I have no idea. I can sense things that have intensity and motion. Does that ability come from a god of air or water? I see people’s true souls and hear their true thoughts. Perhaps there is a god of mirrors, and whatever glass he holds up only reflects the truth. I don’t know.”

She put her head to one side, and even without benefit of bright sun, her strawberry hair shone with a captive gold. “I wonder where you might find legends about the ancient gods. Perhaps in the palace library there are old theology books.”

Cammon wrinkled his nose. “I don’t bother much with reading,” he said. “I’d much rather hear someone tell a story.”

“I used to read a great deal,” she said. “There was nothing else to do.”

He found that impossible to understand. “I suppose a princess doesn’t really have work to do, but-shopping? riding? entertaining visitors? Anything except reading!”

Amalie glanced at Valri, but the queen appeared deeply engrossed in her letter. “My father was always afraid for my safety,” she said. “For years, he didn’t want me to leave the palace at all. And even when visitors were here-oh, I almost never got a chance to meet them. Kirra has spent half her life at the palace, you know, and I never spent more than a few hours with her until she joined us at Rappengrass last summer.”

“But then-who did you talk to?” Cammon asked. His parents had left him pretty much to his own devices, but it wasn’t like they had locked him in a room. He had always struck up acquaintances with the kitchen maids or the carters’ sons. He had hated to be alone-still did. He didn’t think he would have been able to bear the sort of solitude Amalie described.

“My mother and I were very close, while she was alive,” Amalie said. She had dropped her gaze. He had the sudden swift impression that this was something she found difficult to talk about, yet yearned to confide. “And I had nurses and tutors who were kind to me. My old nurse only died a year ago, and I would spend the day with her sometimes. She could hardly see at all by the end, so I would read to her for hours.”

He was staring at her, but she had not lifted her eyes. What a terrible existence! Bleak beyond description! “And you never left the palace?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Not to go shopping in the market. Not to visit friends.” She glanced up now, and there was a faint smile on her face, but it was wistful. “My mother and I would go to Merrenstow for weeks at a time, and I always liked that. Uncle Romar was her brother, you know, and he has a wonderful house. Of course, none of my cousins were allowed to visit while I was there, but my grandmother always insisted on coming, and she was my favorite person in the world when I was little. She taught me how to bake bread and pluck a chicken. She was Twelfth House, you know, very noble, but she said even a marlady should be able to cook a meal if she had to, and she thought a princess should as well.”

So many things to answer in that particular anecdote, but Cammon stupidly found himself asking the most ridiculous question. “You know how to pluck a chicken?”

She dissolved into laughter, and Valri looked over with a frown on her face. Their merriment didn’t cause her too much alarm, though, for she instantly went back to her task.

“Not anymore,” Amalie said. “I haven’t done it in years. But if I was stranded on a deserted farm and there was nothing to eat but a few old hens, I think I could still remember how to do it. If someone wrung its neck for me first.”

“I can’t imagine you ever being stranded in such a way.”

“I could make a loaf of bread, too, if the ingredients were there. After my grandmother died, I was afraid I would forget. So at night I would lie awake and repeat the recipe and the steps out loud. I’m pretty sure it would be lumpy and lopsided, but I bet we could eat it.”

He grinned. “We should go down to the kitchens someday. See if the cooks will let you bake. How can they refuse you? You’re the princess.”

She laughed. “What a good idea. Maybe we should.”

He glanced at Valri again, but the queen had pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and was staring down at it as if waiting for it to dictate the proper words. “What happened,” he asked, his voice very low, “when your mother died? How did she die?”

Immediately, Amalie’s face was very grave, but she did not look angry the subject had been broached. “Fever,” she said sadly. “One day she was fine. We had spent the day in the gardens. I remember that we laughed and laughed, but I can’t remember what was so funny. I was thirteen. She had been telling me for weeks that she would have the dressmakers in to fit me for a new wardrobe, that soon I would need to attend some small dinners and meet some of the prominent families. I was very excited about the idea. And then the next day she had a fever, and two days later she was dead.” Amalie shook her head. “It was so fast-I didn’t have time to think about it. I didn’t have time to prepare.” She lifted her dark eyes to his face; she looked as if she was exercising extreme willpower to keep from crying.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. He couldn’t think of another thing to say.

She shook her head again. “The thing is, I knew she was sick,” she said. “Two summers before, she had begun to have these pains. And she had lost weight. We didn’t go to Merrenstow that year, and we always went to Merrenstow. I knew she was sick, but I didn’t realize how sick. I didn’t realize she could die.”

“No,” he said. “It never occurred to me, either. That my parents could die. Why would they? It never crossed my mind.”

She gave him a swift, tiny smile. “Whereas I’ve always known my father could die. Since I was quite young, everyone has made it clear that I will take the throne upon his death. But when I was young, I didn’t think about it as being an occasion for grief. I imagined how solemn I would be when they put the crown on my head, and I imagined what color dress I would wear to my coronation.” Cammon laughed out loud, and her smile grew a little wider. “I imagined what it would be like to be queen, I just didn’t imagine what it would be like to lose my father. Once my mother died, I suddenly understood.”

“Are you close to your father?” he asked curiously. “It does not seem as if you spend much time with him.”

She nodded. “I love him dearly,” she said. “He’s so busy that I don’t see him much, but he usually comes by every morning or every night and spends half an hour just with me. We talk about everything. My mother’s death was such a blow to him. I think it was years before he recovered.”

Cammon couldn’t help himself; he sent one more glance in the queen’s direction. “It must have been very strange,” he said cautiously, “when he remarried. And someone so young. How soon did Valri come to the palace after your mother died?”

“Oh, she was already here,” Amalie said.

He knew that his expression was dumbfounded. “She what?”

“She had been living here about a year already. She followed them back from the Lirrens shortly after they visited there-oh, a year or so before my mother died. Valri and my mother had become close friends and my mother invited her to visit.”

Cammon’s head swiveled between Valri and Amalie. Valri was from the Lirrens? Maybe-maybe-Senneth had actually suspected such a thing once or twice, and of course the queen’s affection for the raelynx should have been an unmistakable clue. Then there was the fact that Cammon could not read her, as he could not read Ellynor; there was something impenetrable about Lirrenfolk, or perhaps that was merely the manifestation of their magic. And yet-

“Valri is from the Lirrenlands?” he repeated in a slow voice. “I don’t believe that is generally known.”

A flash of guilt crossed Amalie’s face. “I probably shouldn’t have told you, then,” she said. “Please don’t mention it to Senneth or anyone else. I don’t know that it is exactly a secret, and yet my father goes to some pains not to raise any questions about her. People already think Valri is strange, and some of them even think she’s a mystic. If they knew she was from the Lirrens as well-”

That was when it fell in place. “Of course. She said she was protecting you. She is a mystic, and she has the same kind of magic Ellynor has-the power of concealment. It is a gift of the night goddess, and she is using that power on you.”

Amalie stared at him with wide brown eyes and did not answer.

“So your mother knew she was sick,” he said slowly, piecing it together as he went. “Did she go to the Lirrenlands hoping to get well? Because there are exceptionally gifted healers across the Lireth Mountains.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“But instead of a healer, she found Valri. And the only thing your mother was more afraid of than dying was what would happen to you once she was dead. And she realized that Valri could protect you-is that it? Keep you hidden away from the king’s enemies.”

“Something like that.”

“And she persuaded Valri to come back to Ghosenhall. But that doesn’t work,” he broke off. “Ellynor told us how protective her own family is. How they would never let the women of their clans go off and marry outsiders. The Lirrenfolk don’t actually consider Baryn their king, as far as I can tell. Sow how did Valri get free of them?”

“She declared herself bahta-lo. Like your friend Ellynor,” Amalie said. “Above the clan. She said it wasn’t easy, and some of her family members have not accepted her choice, but she did it anyway.”

Cammon narrowed his eyes. “So, your mother is the one who brought her back here. Specifically to marry your father. I hear all this speculation about why your father married so soon after your mother’s death, but it was your mother’s idea all along.”

Amalie nodded. “They don’t even share quarters, my father and Valri. They are very good friends, but all they really have in common is me.”

“And Valri has been practically your only friend since your mother died,” Cammon said. “I can see why you are so close, but I think it’s been hard on both of you.”

“Valri worries about me. All the time. She never gets a rest from worrying,” Amalie said. “And there are days-oh, I just want to break free! Run through the palace gates and race through the streets of Ghosenhall, stopping to shake hands with strangers and dance with young men and pick up little girls and twirl them around. I want to-I want to see places and try exotic food and meet someone who does not bow to me because he does not know who I am. I was so happy last summer! All those balls! All those wonderful strangers! And yet, for Valri, those were the most terrifying months of her life. Because she was so afraid something would happen to me.”

“Well, something almost did happen to you, and more than once,” Cammon pointed out. “I don’t know that you’ll ever be able to go wandering through the city wholly unattended for the rest of your life.”

“No,” she said dolefully. “I must be proper, and hide behind the palace walls, and sit on the throne, and be very dull.”

He could not help but laugh at that. “No, now you are being courted by a couple dozen men, and you will get married, and eventually you will be queen. I would hardly think that will be a dull life,” he said.

She smiled. “And even Valri seems more relaxed since you have joined us,” she said. “She trusts you to be able to sense danger before it gets too close. Valri doesn’t trust many people, you know, so that is quite a compliment. Perhaps she will trust you enough to let me go shopping in the market someday. Wouldn’t that be fun!”

Cammon spared a moment to imagine the cavalcade that would accompany the princess on any expedition into the heart of the city. Riders-ordinary soldiers-himself-and no doubt Valri. He could hardly think any shop was big enough to accommodate them all. But the real challenge would fall to him, trying to open his mind enough to catch any intimation of danger from so many possible sources. It would be like being battered from a thousand directions. How would he be able to deflect all the happy, harmless arrows of attention while identifying the sharp spears of ill intent? “It might be simpler to have merchants bring their merchandise here,” he suggested.

“You just don’t like to shop,” she said.

“I think it might be difficult to keep you entirely safe.”

She leaned forward; her eyes suddenly seemed very dark. “Cammon,” she said in a soft voice, “who is ever entirely safe?”