While refusing to answer any of her brother’s written pleas for further discussion, Reagan had still made an effort to attend all of his duels. His defeat to Rydin wasn’t expected, but she hadn’t been shocked to see it happen either. Knowing Baiel would not so much care that he’d lost, she gave the matter little more thought and kept on pushing her way through the crowd.
There seemed to be some sort of commotion now happening on the field about Rydin, but she ignored it as she finally laid eyes on the one she sought. Standing near the inner gates leading into the marketplace, the tall, black-haired Jennite man was waiting just as they’d arranged, although, unlike herself, the events now playing out on the field had his full attention. In fact, he appeared to be laughing his ass off.
Reagan drew up beside him with a glare. “Why do you not start turning flips, and see if you cannot draw even more attention to us?” she hissed at Callan Ashe.
The assassin took her in, making an attempt to choke off his laughter as he wiped at his streaming eyes. “Sorry. It’s just you have no idea how humorous this is.”
She frowned and glanced back over her shoulder. “What are they doing?’
“Having Kale tested for Magic,” he snorted.
She looked back at him, still frowning. “I know Rydin, and he keeps his Secondary hidden. Considering the bizarre events that seem to follow him, I wouldn’t think it so radical an assumption.”
Ashe looked surprised. “How do you know him?”
“We met two years ago, in Jennen.” She had no intention of revealing any further details of that encounter, and Ashe didn’t ask for them.
“In Jennen, you say? Then surely you must know the truth of him. Most in our homelands do,” he added, stifling another laugh.
Reagan looked at him blankly, having no idea what he was talking about, and in this moment, not particularly caring. While the mystery of Rydin Kale held a certain appeal, she had much more serious matters on her mind this day.
“Your banter is boring me,” she told him. “Do you have it or not?”
Ashe grinned and eyed her. “I do. Although, if you would allow my professional opinion, I would suggest settling those nerves before you attempt administering it. No matter the scenario you plan for this, a cool head will do much to aid you.”
Given his reputation, Reagan recognized the fact she should be taking this advice to heart. “I will keep that in mind,” she said.
He moved suddenly, closing in on her and pushing her back up against the wall in what likely appeared a lover’s embrace. Now shielded from any curious eyes, he deftly wedged a small glass bottle filled with amber liquid deeply into the cleavage showcased by her bodice.
“Five drops and even the strongest of men will last no longer than a few breaths,” he told her quietly.
In keeping with the ruse, she slid her hands across his waist and dropped her payment into his pants. “If this is a substance that can in any way be traced back to you,” she advised softly, “you may want to consider leaving Aralexia. Tonight.”
He smiled and stepped back, releasing her. “Not a concern, but I appreciate the warning. May you find much success in your endeavor, fair Reagan.” Still grinning, he turned and disappeared quickly into the crowd.
She watched him go, then looked back to the field. Rydin was nearing, making his exit from the forum while wearing an unconcerned expression. She stepped into his path and put her hands to her hips.
He spotted her and slowed to a stop, his eyes narrowing slightly as they took her in. “You weren’t exaggerating about your brother,” he opened conversationally. “He is, without question, the best swordsman I’ve ever encountered.”
Reagan took a step closer, somewhat surprised he remembered their conversation from the night preceding the Challenge’s opening day. Busy with Baiel and her official duties, by the time she’d gone back to his inn to seek him out, she’d found he’d had to change locations due to a mysterious fire.
“And yet you bested him,” she replied to his statement now.
Rydin shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
She went on eyeing him. “I can see now why you scoffed at my pledge of the Life-Bond. Certainly you are not a man who would require any sort of protection.”
“I scoffed because I think it’s silly Dhan’Marian nonsense,” he told her. “While aware of several men who hold to the idea that I cannot be killed, I don’t actually keep to the same opinion.” He grinned crookedly at her. “You may yet get your chance one day, Reagan.” His eyes then strayed to her throat. “So long as you do nothing foolish, that is,” he added pointedly.
This was not the time for a lecture over her vengeful ways, and she stepped back to clear his path. “I only wanted to wish you luck in the final round tomorrow. But clearly, this is not the sort of nonsense you would desire hearing.”
He sighed. “Well, you don’t have to be like that.”
She waved him off and started away. Approaching now was the royal council, with Master Alvik in the lead and beckoning to her. Leaving Rydin behind and muttering to himself, she hurried forward to meet the jester.
Drawing near, she took in the young, black-haired woman keeping pace next to him. A queer expression was on her face, almost as though she was putting a great effort into each and every step. It seemed to Reagan she was forcing herself not to bolt. Curious.
“Reagan, this is Lady Savannon, a diviner,” Master Alvik was then saying as she drew upon them. “You will attend her in preparation for the ball.”
Reagan smiled and nodded, all the while cursing the jester. This seemed a strange duty, and a distraction she didn’t need. On the other hand, it would give her more time in the castle, perhaps allowing her a further plotting advantage. While she had every intention of poisoning King DeSiva sometime during the course of the ball, exactly how she was going to accomplish this was still largely up in the air. She then sent a sudden glance at the woman who’d been given into her service.
A diviner, Alvik had said? That wasn’t favorable news, considering. Should the woman see even a hint of her plans, her life would be over, her goal unaccomplished. Reagan gritted her teeth and decided she would simply have to trust to her double fortune of Revenge to cloud any such sight, mostly because she could see no other way to deal with the matter.
Walking down to the end of the block where the royal carriages awaited, Reagan could not stop herself from now giving the king a few very long looks. This was the closest she’d ever been to the man, and the proximity seemed to be having an almost physical effect on her. Her heart had begun to pound, echoing in her ears, and she could literally feel her desire for this man’s blood racing throughout her veins.
Tonight, your majesty, you will taste my wrath, and you will choke on it.
Suppressing the small, tight smile fighting to take over her lips, she followed the jester into one of the carriages. Also with them was the diviner, who had not yet spoken a word in Reagan’s presence, and Seneschal Galaz, leaving the king, his son, the treasurer, the captain of the royal guard, and the commander of the Legion to take the other.
The air about them seemed to change abruptly once they’d been secured within the carriage, its movement commencing with an abrupt jerk.
Reagan took in the three faces around her, unable to identify exactly what the feeling lingering all about them now was, and suspecting she was the only one who did not understand it.
The diviner continued to appear on the verge of panic, but was keeping to her silence. Master Alvik and Seneschal Galaz, seated upon the cushioned bench opposite the women, were conducting a conversation in such low tones Reagan was unable to make out even a word of it. But whatever this was about, she didn’t think it had anything to do with her and her upcoming plans, and because of this her interest was limited. Following the diviner’s lead, she spoke not a word until they landed at the castle and exited the carriage.
She was then given instructions
by Master Alvik, which included following the knightly escort to the suite she and the diviner were being given to prepare themselves for the ball. Evidently, a Justice officer had already been sent to her inn for her dress, although how her charge was to be attired she had yet to discover.
Silence reigned until she and the other woman were secured within elaborate quarters in the north wing of the castle’s second floor. Stepping into the immense dressing room complete with its own vanity counter and almost wall-sized mirrors, Reagan took it in with awe, having never even imagined such opulence existing. Turning back, she saw the other woman watching her curiously.
“Forgive me my humble origins, my lady,” she said, her tone a perfect echo of the deference she commonly observed but never felt. “I imagine you are used to such settings, but I have never seen the like.”
The diviner was standing against the far wall, her satchel clutched in her hands before her as she went on staring at Reagan.
“You are Baiel’s sister, yes?” she asked, very unexpectedly.
Reagan blinked in surprise. “Yes.”
The diviner nodded. “Your hair and eyes—they are similar to his, and not common here in Dhanen’Mar.”
Reagan paused, glad to hear this conclusion had been found by simple logic and not from the woman’s second sight. “You know him, then?” she asked.
The diviner nodded. “We’ve struck up an acquaintance over the past few days.”
Reagan smirked. Knowing her brother as one of the most pursued men in the city at present, she could only presume the nature of this woman’s interest in him. Apparently even the highborn were not above chasing after the Challenge participants.
“He told me of the terrible tragedy that took your parents and kept the two of you separated for so long,” the diviner then went on. “But his happiness at finding you again was evident when he spoke of it.”
Reagan remained quiet, now reconsidering. While spending only the first several days of the week with Baiel, it was time enough for her to know that he’d never have told this tale idly. Perhaps she’d been a bit hasty in judging the situation. But her past wasn’t something she particularly wished to discuss, so she simply nodded and stepped forward, taking up the measuring tape from the vanity counter.
“We’d best get to this, my lady. Someone will be here for your measurements soon.”
“Please, my name is Madi. There is no need for such formality.”
Reagan smiled slightly and nodded, surprised. “As you wish,” she murmured, unraveling the tape and gesturing for the other woman to take position before her. “So, you are here to read for the guests, then?” she asked, bending to start with a leg measurement.
“That’s right,” Madi answered, sounding hesitant.
Reagan glanced up at her. “You do not seem pleased by this task. I would think you would be accustomed to such requests.”
The diviner paused, seeming to consider. “Reading for the highborn is always worrying. They tend to have the most secrets.”
Reagan raised an eyebrow. “I would not be so certain of that.”
Madi nodded. “I should perhaps have said, they tend to have the most dangerous secrets.”
Wrong again, Reagan thought, moving along to next discern the arm-length measurement.
“In any case,” the diviner went on quietly, “I expect it to be a most eventful afternoon and evening.”
You have no idea.
“Actually,” Reagan replied, straightening to wrap the tape about the other woman’s hips, “I expect the affair to be rather dull. And does it not seem odd to you that while this ball is in honor of the Challenge, none of its participants—besides the prince, of course—have been invited?”
Madi gave a dry laugh. “That is not so surprising of the highborn, truly. The combatants are good enough to provide entertainment by risking their lives, but not so much to dine with in a civilized manner.”
Reagan looked up, again surprised. “You do not seem a typical woman of your station, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“I don’t, and you are not the first to tell me so.”
They finished taking the measurements in silence, but Reagan felt she was beginning to understand what Baiel saw in this woman. Of course, nothing could ever come of it—unless the diviner’s hidden Secondary claimed War, which was possible but unlikely, she would never be allowed entrance into Lutarre Keep, and just as certain was that her brother would never leave it. But this dire conclusion aside, Reagan found herself pleasantly surprised by her brother’s taste. The Patrons certainly knew he’d had his pick of dozens of women this week.
A knock on the door came just after they’d finished, and Reagan moved to tell the maid waiting in the corridor the diviner’s sizes so that a proper dress could be brought for her. Where this dress was being brought from Reagan still didn’t know, and didn’t care enough to ask.
Turning back into the dressing room, she gestured to the polished beechwood chair before the vanity counter. “Sit, I will begin on your hair.”
Little more than an hour later, both women were properly attired in their delivered gowns, their hair and makeup completed to perfection. Reagan wasn’t overly concerned with her own appearance, just satisfied that the small bottle tucked in her day clothes was now hidden in her gown, but she did take a step back in admiration of her work upon the other woman. Beautiful to begin with, Madi was now stunning.
“I fear you are going to break my brother’s heart,” she said with a smile, words that were half-jesting and half-warning.
The diviner didn’t appear to have much concern for her own appearance either, giving herself the briefest of glances in the mirror before turning back to Reagan. “Let’s hope not,” she murmured, sounding odd.
It was a mysterious answer but one Reagan approved of. Actually, the two of them had gotten on quite well this past hour, rather amazing given Madi still appeared incredibly nervous to conduct her readings, and Reagan herself was planning to kill the king in only a matter of hours. Despite this, however, their time here, an obvious burden to them both, had not been unpleasant.
“Besides,” Madi suddenly went on with her own small grin, looking at her, “I believe it would be unwise to risk your wrath.”
Reagan frowned, suddenly worried the other woman’s second sight had now shown her something, when Madi then made a pointed nod.
Of course. Her Revenge Birth medallion. That was all the diviner had meant.
Reagan smiled back at her, somewhat evilly. “We are what we are,” she said.
Madi opened her mouth to reply but a sharp rap sounded from the outer doorway to interrupt her.
“That must be the escort to bring us down,” Reagan said, stepping from the dressing room and moving to the door. Feeling the small, glass bottle caught up in the ribbons of her specifically-designed dress, she allowed herself a wide smile.
After more than twelve years, at last she was ready.
Chapter 44