He took her hand and bowed, his dark blond hair tumbling around his shoulders. When he straightened, he gave her a very direct look, making no attempt to hide his curiosity.
She did not allow her hand to rest in his, though she wanted to. She was concentrating very hard on being Casserah. “I am,” she said coolly. “Next you will tell me some tale of your great friendship with my sister.”
He almost laughed. “I would, except I sense such a comment might be unwelcome.”
“It’s practically the only conversation I’ve had all night.”
“Would you rather I reviled her? That’s not usually how I introduce myself to relatives of people I know, but I can try to accommodate.”
Kirra was amused; Casserah would have been, too. “Thank you, but I think I know her faults. Can we choose another subject?”
“I’m not much of a courtier,” he said. “Most of my topics tend to be grim. I’d happily hear about Danalustrous, though, if that’s something you’d like to talk about.”
Kirra smiled. Neatly done. Nothing else could have been better calculated to appeal to Casserah. Slowly they edged away from the tea table and slowly began to walk a circuit of the room. “Why, it is the most beautiful land in the world,” she said, her voice almost playful. “No place can compare.”
She spoke at length about the architecture of the Hall, the ancient history of the family, the primary trading ventures, the lifestyle contrast between lands along the coastline and estates in the interior farmland, and whatever else occurred to her. She knew she should ask about Merrenstow in return, but she didn’t want him to describe his own holdings, mention his wife, reveal his plans for having children and leading a life of domestic bliss.
“I can see you love it very much,” he said when she finished up. “I’m surprised your father could convince you to leave.”
“He offered me an interesting bargain.”
“I hear all bargains with Malcolm Danalustrous are interesting.”
She laughed. “I am just as surprised to see you outside the confines of Merrenstow,” she said. “But perhaps you have taken extra precautions to ensure your safety this time when you traveled.”
For a moment, anger molded his face, fierce enough to make her regret the careless words. But it seemed he was not directing his fury at her. “Yes, I half think the intent of my botched abduction was to make me fearful and uncertain,” he said. “And a man afraid is a useless man. I do not intend to be useless.”
Their perambulations had taken them to the shadow of a huge plant set on a tall marble base. Its leaves were just at hand height, so Kirra lifted her fingers and began toying with the greenery. “A man afraid is not always useless,” she said. “I have seen men accomplish great things even in the grip of fear. The trick is not to let fear stop you.”
He smiled. “The trick is not to let anything stop you.”
She slipped the wide waxy leaves through her fingers the way she would tease Donnal’s ears when he was in dog shape. Strange that she would think of Donnal at precisely this moment. “Nothing?” she repeated. “That’s a little ruthless. What lengths would you go to in order to achieve a goal?”
He seemed to consider. “It would depend upon the goal. If it was something I wanted, a personal challenge, a desire to fulfill, I would go to extraordinary lengths. I would be reckless at times, foolish at times, cunning when I could be. But I wouldn’t mortgage my future. I wouldn’t throw away everything I had or risk the lives and happiness of the people I cared about.” His brown eyes focused intently on her again. He had a habit of doing that, as if to check that she was paying absolute attention to whatever he had to say. “But if it were something I believed was right? Something to do with justice or morality or the fate of the kingdom itself? Nothing would stop me. I would jeopardize everything, everyone. I wouldn’t care what else I lost.”
Kirra dropped her hand and began her slow promenade again. Romar fell in step beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. She liked his specific height next to her own, the bulk and proportions of his body. He was perhaps five inches taller than Casserah, solid, hard-muscled. She was so used to Donnal at her side, so much slimmer, so sleek, almost exactly her height and weight.
“You speak like a passionate man,” she said in Casserah’s unruffled voice.
“You have passion of your own, though you reserve it for Danalustrous,” he said. “I know enough of your father to know there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his land. I’m guessing you’re cast in the same mold, though you seem so cool.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “It is easiest to care only about one thing,” she said. “That way, your choices are always already made.”
“Make sure you care about the right thing then,” he said.
She stopped right there in the middle of the floor, with no column or potted plant or other physical marker to give them a reason to come to a halt. “You’re speaking of Gillengaria,” she said.
He nodded. “Don’t choose Danalustrous over the kingdom,” he said.
“As you would not choose Merrenstow?”
He shook his head. “My first duty is to Amalie.”
Her voice was so soft it might be possible he couldn’t hear it. “Shouldn’t your first duty be to your family?”
But he did. “My wife understands,” he said. “I am a regent before I am a husband. At least as long as I am regent.”
“Were I your wife,” she said, unable to believe the words were coming from her mouth, “I would not be so pleased to be relegated to second place.”
“Were I your husband,” he retorted, “I could say the same thing.”
It was so unexpected that she laughed out loud. Several heads turned as people craned their necks to look in their direction. Kirra couldn’t keep her amusement in check. “We have provided the evening’s entertainment,” she said merrily. “No one else has said anything the least bit funny and now they will all be dying to know what we talked about.”
He gave her a little bow; she could tell by that he realized it was time to mingle a little more, not give quite so much attention to one unmarried woman. “We can answer quite honestly,” he said. “We talked about the land we love so well.”
JUST when it seemed possible the evening might never end, it was over. A clock somewhere chimed the midnight hour, and Eloise was caught yawning in someone’s face. “Forgive me!” she exclaimed. “I think it must be time for me to seek my bed.”
Thus released, the whole crowd headed slowly for the halls and began a general dissolution. Kirra, the first of her own group to step through the door, saw Justin still standing there very alertly, ready to leap into action. She did not acknowledge him and he did not give any sign that he knew her, but it wouldn’t have been strange if she’d stared. Half the other guests did, noting his sober face, his visible weaponry, and the gold lions splashed across his black sash. Then they leaned over to murmur to someone else in the crowd. King’s Rider. Here to watch over the princess. Can you imagine that Baryn would not think she was safe even here? But the display of power and wealth impressed them. Those were the two things the aristocracy valued most in the world.
Kirra could not resist peering over her shoulder once to see that Justin had fallen in step behind Amalie and Valri. Senneth, a few paces back, struggled to end a conversation with some lesser lord. Eventually they had thinned down to their own particular party as they climbed enough stairwells and turned down enough corridors to reach the wing where they were all housed. Kirra figured there might be a council of sorts in Amalie’s room, so she passed her own door and waited for the others outside of Amalie’s.
Tayse stood there on guard. He did not smile as they approached, merely gave a brief nod and said, “Let me check the room before you enter.”
Amalie stopped obediently in the hall. “I’m exhausted,” Valri said, continuing on toward her own door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Senneth sagged against the
wall. “And to think we have dozens more nights like this ahead of us.” She sighed. “How will I endure it?”
Amalie gave a shy smile. “I had a good time,” she said. “Everyone was so nice to me.”
Senneth smiled back. “They would be fools not to be. Was there anyone in particular you enjoyed talking to?”
“Oh—everyone,” Amalie said.
Kirra hoped the princess’s conversation had been a little more lively when she was interacting with her subjects.
Tayse emerged. “The room is secure. Her maid said no one has come to the door except some servants with fuel and hot water.”
“Thank you,” Amalie said, and stepped past him into the room.
And screamed.
Kirra had never seen anyone move as fast as Tayse did, plunging back through the door. She and Senneth and Justin were hard on his heels. She could catch a babble of conversation—Amalie’s questions, the maid’s hysterical responses—but the first thing she noticed when she got inside was that there was no blood. Tayse hadn’t killed an intruder. Indeed, the Rider had dropped his sword hand and released all the menace from his pose. He was just staring at the bed.
Where a black dog was sitting on the counterpane, tongue hanging out, tail thumping against the covers.
“Donnal,” Tayse said, sheathing his sword. Behind her, Kirra heard Justin do the same. “A very good trick.”
“But how did he get in here?” Amalie asked, bewildered. The maid was still crying but no one was paying her much attention. Senneth crossed the room and sat beside Donnal, putting her arms around his neck. She was laughing. Amalie added, “Didn’t you just check the room?”
“I did and—”
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” The fresh voice belonged to Valri as she burst through the door. It was clear she was instantly puzzled by the casual atmosphere inside. “Why did she scream?”
Senneth spoke. “She was startled by the appearance of the dog. We didn’t realize he was in the room.”
Valri’s attention transferred to Donnal, but she was confused. “Whose dog is that?” She looked around and found Kirra. “Is it yours? It looks like the one who traveled with us from Ghosenhall. Why is it in Amalie’s room?”
Oh, Bright Mother burn me, Kirra thought. “He’s not a dog, he’s a mystic. A shape-changer,” she said in a voice she hoped sounded reasonable. “We were trying to decide how safe the princess’s room was, and Donnal said he thought it could be breached by a shiftling. And he’s just proven that it can.”
Valri digested this quickly. She seemed completely unconcerned with the news about the shape-changer in their midst. “So how do we protect against an assault by a shiftling who means her harm?”
“I will stay in the room beside her,” Senneth said. “A Rider will stand guard outside the door. I don’t know that we can do more than that.” She glanced at Donnal. “I believe I would be able to overcome a shiftling, even in a desperate fight.”
Donnal barked at that and wagged his tail again. Kirra interpreted that as meaning I wouldn’t be so sure of myself, serra, but Senneth merely smiled. “And Donnal agrees with me,” she said smoothly.
Valri lifted her hands to her cheeks. It was the first time Kirra had ever seen her distraught. “This is so dangerous,” she said. “I wonder if we should go back to Ghosenhall.”
Amalie went over and put her arms around Valri’s shoulders. Amalie was just of medium height, but Valri was small next to her. Amalie might almost have been an adult comforting a child. “Nothing has happened, Valri,” she said. “No one has attacked me. They’re only trying to discover ways someone could hurt me. I’d rather Senneth found these ways first and considered how to protect me.”
“Keep Donnal in the princess’s room,” Tayse suggested. “He might sense any danger before it comes creeping through the windows.” He looked at Donnal. “Or the walls. Or wherever he came from.”
“He was probably in the room when you went in to look,” Kirra said. “Spider or something small hidden on the bedspread. He can change so fast you can’t follow the motions.”
Tayse glanced at her. “I remember.”
Amalie was gazing rather doubtfully at Donnal. “But—he’s really a man? You want him to sleep in my room with me?”
Kirra had to choke down a wild desire to laugh. It was all she could do to keep from exclaiming, “Yes, he’ll sleep right beside you on the bed. You’ll be delighted at how warm he’ll keep you.” She was fairly certain that Donnal, and probably Senneth, could read what was in her mind.
“Perhaps not,” Senneth said.
Donnal jumped to his feet, gave Kirra one pained look, and melted into a small, round, feathered shape. Hunting owl. Kirra crossed the room to open the closed shutter, and Donnal sailed soundlessly past her, circled once, and returned to land on the stone sill of the window. Kirra closed the shutter again.
“He’ll guard you all night,” she said. “I think you can feel fairly confident that no one else will slip into your room.”
Valri dropped her hands. Her green eyes stood out in stark contrast to her deathly pale skin. “Thank you. You seem to have taken very effective measures. Thank you.”
Kirra held her arm out to shepherd Valri toward the door. “Come, majesty,” she said. “Time for us all to get some sleep.”
Although, Kirra reflected later that night as she lay in bed, she herself wasn’t entirely happy at the turn of events. No more Donnal to warm her back. No more Donnal to watch her every move, make certain Kirra was always safe. She was not so certain she liked his loyalty being diverted elsewhere; she was a little surprised that he had so readily agreed to Tayse’s suggestion. Then again, she had been just about to make the same suggestion herself, and he certainly would have obeyed her instructions.
She huddled under her blankets and thought the early summer air was a little too cool and wondered how everyone else fell asleep so easily when they were solitary in their beds.
CHAPTER 16
THE next two days were much like the first one, but worse because there were the daylight hours to get through as well. Amalie was in high demand for breakfasts, afternoon teas, strolls through the gardens, and excursions into the shopping district of the city that bordered the court. She seemed happy to be invited anywhere and to attend any function. Senneth, managing to look both expressionless and grim, naturally accompanied her on any outing, with at least one Rider always trailing. Sometimes Donnal accompanied them in a variety of guises. Sometimes he stayed behind.
On the afternoon of the second day, Kirra found Donnal napping on the floor at Justin’s feet, outside the door to Amalie’s room. Cammon was sprawled across the hall, telling a story that, to judge by Justin’s face, wasn’t entirely interesting.
“The princess is sleeping,” Justin informed her.
“Do you feel competent to keep her safe for a few hours if I take Donnal somewhere with me?”
Justin just grinned and didn’t answer. “I’ll stay and help keep watch,” Cammon offered.
“Excellent,” she said. She toed Donnal awake. He yawned and came to his feet, then stretched his back and legs. “Oh, you’re getting used to this life of leisure,” she said. “You won’t be any good to me at all anymore.”
Naturally, he made no answer to that, but his expression fairly closely imitated Justin’s grin.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said. He followed her down the many halls and stairwells till they were out and rambling through the surrounding grounds. It took some effort to find an area so remote it wasn’t patrolled by guards or frequented by visitors, but finally they located a shadowy, tree-lined path that no one else had discovered that day.
“Finally,” Kirra muttered. “Hold up a moment.”
She stopped and shut her eyes, concentrating for a minute on the details of her body. Arms just so, skin just this weight—but these shall stretch to wings and this shall ruffle to feathers. When she opened her eyes, the world had changed co
lors and proportions, and her own body was light as a puff of air.
Donnal had changed right alongside her, and now they were both summer songbirds, fashioned of such bright colors and sweet melodies that they seemed constructed of joy. Donnal twisted his head and asked a question in a strange twittering tongue, and she replied, and simultaneously they flung themselves into the rippled blue-and-white sky. Sunlight and motion and the sheer delight of existence buoyed them on their flight. Kirra could not even sense the effort of moving her wings, of gauging the air currents, estimating distances. She merely was, and was happy.
They chased each other through the afternoon, pausing two or three times at one of Eloise Kianlever’s ornamental fountains to splash in the water. Kirra spotted a marmalade cat crouched beside one of the fountains, poised to spring, and she let loose an undignified screech and tore into flight again. That would be a scandal, a tragedy, a ridiculous way to end her disorganized life, as dinner for a house cat at one of the Twelve Houses. She had always wondered what would happen to her if she was killed or severely injured while in another shape. Would she revert to her true form or die as she was, incapable of calling up magic? She wondered if the same worry had factored into her father’s decision to name Casserah as his heir. Serramarra Kirra has disappeared. There is no trace of her body anywhere to be found. . . .