“I don’t know if they’re any good, but there are a lot of them,” Cammon said. “But I never had any dealings with them. Mostly my mother and I worked in the honey spice fields while my father did business deals.”
“Honey spice! It grows in Arberharst?” Chelley asked.
Cammon nodded. “Great fields of it. In the spring, every plant has about ten bright red blossoms and the fields just stretch on forever. You can stand in the middle of a honey spice field and everywhere you look, all you see is red.”
Between Chelley’s promptings and Cammon’s willingness to talk, much of the rest of the meal passed in a travelogue of sorts. Senneth was fairly certain that her brothers were bored with the conversation, but the children were fascinated, and even Sabina seemed to like the tales. But it wouldn’t have been a meal with Cammon if he hadn’t then started asking questions of his own, guilelessly and with complete sincerity wanting to know where Chelley was from, what the children were learning, who was the oldest, where they had traveled. Soon enough, Cammon, Chelley, and the heirs to Brassenthwaite were chatting happily among themselves, while her brothers and Tayse began a sotto voce discussion of war strategy again.
Worse ways to spend an evening, Senneth supposed. She was not particularly interested in either conversation, so she played with her food and thought over the prospect of a trip to Danalustrous. Well, it would be good to see Kirra again, if indeed the flighty serramarra could be found there. She was even more restless than Senneth and could hardly be counted on to spend two nights in the same location. But Malcolm Danalustrous would make Senneth welcome, and so would Casserah, in her cool way.
Will and Casserah . . . it might work. Among the serramar and serramarra, sometimes the best you could hope for was that an arranged marriage would not be disastrous.
As a wedding between Halchon Gisseltess and Senneth would have been. Senneth didn’t even want to think about what Sabina’s life had been like these past fifteen years. Although Sabina was no mystic. She would not feel, as Senneth did, her sense of magic drain away the moment Halchon put his hand anywhere on her body. Sabina might hate him for his cruelty, for his coldness, for his driven ambition, but any wife might hate a husband for those reasons. Senneth had had other reasons to fear and despise the man who had been heir to Gisseltess. . . .
Kiernan pushed his chair away from the table. He was done with the meal. “So!” he said. “We have no entertainments planned, since we weren’t expecting your arrival. You can make yourselves free of the house, of course. But if you have no further need of me, I’m going to retire to my study and go over accounts.”
Tayse rose deliberately to his feet, and everyone reflexively turned to look at him. He appeared relaxed, but Senneth noted the placement of his hands—lightly resting on his belt, inches from his sword and dagger—and the way he was balanced on his feet. Ready for combat if combat came. She stared at him, completely nonplussed, then glanced at Cammon. Who was looking down at his plate to hide his expression and trying hard not to laugh.
What, by the Bright Mother’s golden hand, was Tayse planning to say?
“Marlord Kiernan,” Tayse began formally. “A minute of your time, please.”
Kiernan, never caught off guard, merely nodded. “We can withdraw to my study, if you like.”
Tayse glanced around the room. He met Senneth’s eyes fleetingly and returned his attention to his host. “I would like to speak before the entire family, if I may.”
“Certainly.”
“I’m forty years old. I have spent the last twenty-two years as a King’s Rider, like my father and his father before me. The king would trust me with his life, and every man who knows me would tell you I am honorable. There is not a chapter in my life that I would be embarrassed to have you read. But I do not come from noble stock.”
Senneth was motionless in her chair. Her body was alternately weighted like stone and blazing with fire. She could not lift her hand to hide her face; she could not have spoken no matter what the incentive. Around her, she could hear the others shifting in their seats, could catch the quick looks that passed between Will and Nate, between Kiernan and Chelley. But she could not move. She could not look away from Tayse’s dark, stern face.
“I realize that it would benefit you to arrange a marriage between your sister and a son of the Twelve Houses,” Tayse went on. “I believe you tried such a match some years ago, and it did not succeed, and that you might be hoping to persuade her to consider another marriage now. I understand that any lesser match degrades her in the eyes of your world. I understand that I am not good enough to marry her.”
Now Senneth was able to move one hand, and she used it to cover her mouth. In a minute, she would be using it to wipe her eyes. She still could not speak.
“And yet I love her, and she loves me,” Tayse continued. “And I will marry her if she will agree. But you are her brothers. You are her family. You are all of a noble House. Before I ask her, I would want to know that you look upon my suit with favor. I know you will not believe I deserve her, but perhaps you will agree to let me have her even so.”
He stopped, and there was absolute silence in the room. From the corner of her eye, Senneth could see Nate’s black frown, Will’s delighted smile, and Chelley’s look of surprise and pleasure. Not often anyone got to witness such a declaration; almost any woman would let it melt her heart.
Kiernan, as befitted the marlord of the most powerful House in Gillengaria, carefully thought over the proposition before he replied. He did not look either surprised or offended; Kiernan never bothered with pointless emotions. He was actually, Senneth thought with some indignation, considering the advantages and disadvantages.
“When the king dies, what happens to you as one of his Riders?” Kiernan asked.
Inquiring into job prospects! Senneth thought, repressing the urge to laugh hysterically. As if I needed someone to feed me and take care of my household expenses!
Tayse nodded, as if this was a fair question. “Princess Amalie, upon becoming queen, dismisses all the Riders. That is tradition. And those she wishes to reengage, she then hires back. Thus they make their oaths of fealty directly to her. I have no way of predicting if I would be among the Riders she would choose to keep. My hope is that I would.”
“And if you are not?”
“I have some skill with a sword. I would be able to sell my services elsewhere.”
“Besides the king and your fellow Riders, who would vouch for your character and your ability as a fighter?”
“I believe the regent, Romar Brendyn, would speak of me highly.” Tayse inclined his head slightly. “And you yourself have had a firsthand opportunity to judge me. I have stayed in your house and eaten at your table. You must have formed an opinion.”
“Indeed, I have been most impressed by your intelligence, your steadfastness, and your loyalty,” Kiernan said.
“Then will you allow me to wed your sister?”
“Serramarra do not marry King’s Riders!” Nate burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. “Not even the best of the Riders, as we all know you to be!”
Kiernan gave Nate a quelling look. “But we have long ago given up any notion of marrying Senneth off for political gain,” Kiernan said.
“Well, we never thought she’d be willing to marry anyone,” Will interposed. He was laughing.
He received a quelling look, too. “And we have long recognized that, whatever our plans for Senneth, she would do whatever she desired, so our opinions have never mattered much to her.”
“Your opinions matter to me,” Tayse said.
Kiernan nodded. “You are the king’s man, and Brassenthwaite serves the king. It would be an honor to welcome you into our family as my sister’s husband.” He stood up, his wine goblet in his hand, and saluted the Rider. “You have the blessing of the House.”
SO there was, after all, entertainment for the evening, despite the fact that the host and hostess had not thought to provide music or dancin
g. Everyone ignored Nate’s black looks and joined in a celebration. Chelley called for more wine, and even let the children raise a toast to Aunt Senneth and her unconventional suitor. Will came around the table and lifted Senneth off her feet in a rib-cracking hug, while Cammon ran up to Tayse and pounded him on the back. Kiernan stepped up to shake Tayse’s hand, but no one else had the nerve to get too close to the Rider, even when he was clearly in a benevolent mood.
Senneth herself did not want to come near enough to touch him; she was afraid she would combust.
Sabina made her way around the table and took Senneth’s hands in her small, cold ones. She was smiling wistfully. “I feel like I should be very shocked,” she said. “A serramarra and a King’s Rider! And I am, a little bit. And yet I think—is this a chance at happiness? I did not have such a chance myself. I would very much like someone else to be able to. If you love him, Senneth, marry him.”
“I love him,” Senneth said in a choked voice.
Sabina pushed herself to her tiptoes and kissed Senneth on the cheek. “Oh, then I am so happy for you. And I envy you from the bottom of my heart.”
Chelley pulled Senneth aside next. “Shall you be married from Brassenthwaite? Kiernan would like that, I think. We could invite all the Twelve Houses.”
Senneth could imagine few things more horrible. “Oh— Chelley—I don’t think so. A quiet ceremony, probably in Ghosenhall. I haven’t—trust me, this is something of a shock to me, I haven’t thought it through. But I would not be planning on some event at Brassen Court.”
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I would be happy to help you plan.”
Cammon came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “You should have seen your expression,” he said. “You would have thought Tayse was asking permission to cut off your head.”
She turned to face him and he dropped his arms. He was grinning widely. “You could have warned me he was planning this.”
“I didn’t realize it till he stood up. Anyway, I wouldn’t have told. It was more fun this way.” He laughed. “I’ve never seen Tayse nervous before. I didn’t know he could get nervous. Justin won’t believe it.”
“Someday I hope to see you endure great public humiliation,” she said, her tone heartfelt.
He laughed again. “Probably won’t happen. I almost never get embarrassed. I mean, I don’t even know when I’m supposed to be embarrassed.”
“Well, then, I hope you fall in love with the wrong person and everybody stares and whispers about you.”
“Now that might happen someday. Seems like the sort of thing I’d do.”
At last, everyone had had enough opportunities to exclaim and congratulate and offer good wishes. It was almost winter; the sun had long since gone down. Sabina yawned and said she was exhausted, and the others all expressed the intention of seeking their beds. Senneth did not look at Tayse as she kissed the children goodnight and promised to talk more with Chelley in the morning. By the time she was heading toward the stairs, Tayse had collected Cammon and the two of them climbed up behind her, Cammon talking with great animation.
Tayse, like Senneth, was mostly silent.
She stepped inside their bedroom first, while he paused a moment in the hall to exchange a final word with Cammon. The cool air warmed merely from her presence; she bent at the grate to kindle a fire with her fingertips. Pacing across the room, she lit candles on the armoire, before the window, beside the bed.
Tayse stepped inside and set the lock, then stood unmoving before the door. She was halfway across the room, and both of them were in partial shadow.
He was the first to speak. “It hardly does me any good to abase myself before the marlord if the woman I love will refuse to have me.”
“Oh, that’s a risk, it is,” she said in a soft voice, staying where she was. “Serramarra are notoriously fickle. They toy with men’s affections because they only play at love.”
“Although they play very well,” he said judiciously.
She was surprised into a laugh. She reached up and began slowly unbuttoning the front of her dress. She had changed from her travel trousers into more ladylike attire for the meal, so at least she looked properly soft and womanly for this momentous occasion. Still, the dress must have twenty-five buttons; what had she been thinking? She undid the ones down to her waist, and then shrugged out of the sleeves.
“I am not entirely clear,” she said, “on the king’s policy toward his Riders. I know some of them are married, but very few. Is there any prohibition in place?” She pushed the dress down to her ankles and stepped out of it, leaving her shoes behind as she did so. Now she was wearing a chemise and an underslip borrowed from Chelley. She took a few steps closer to Tayse and began pulling at the lace holding the chemise together.
He stayed where he was, but she could see him smiling in the candlelight. “The formal policy is that Riders are not encouraged to marry,” he said. “Thus, the tradition is that all Riders elope, theoretically to avoid risking the ire of their king by asking permission to wed. In reality, Baryn has always been quite delighted when his Riders have found themselves husbands and wives. He has always been most extravagant with wedding gifts.”
There—the chemise was off. The underslip was balled up and thrown in a corner. Senneth was standing there entirely nude except for two pieces of jewelry—the glowing moonstone bracelet around her left wrist, and the golden pendant around her throat. Both of them seemed hot against her skin this night; both of them were pulling fire from her own wakened magic.
Four more steps and she was inches away from him. He had not moved or attempted to disrobe. He had not so much as lifted the embroidered sash of lions over his head. She placed her hands on his shoulders and let him feel the heat in her palms, all the way through the layers of his clothing to his taut flesh beneath.
“Yes, Tayse, I will marry you,” she whispered, and lifted her mouth to kiss him. “If you will have me, I will be entirely yours.”
That was all he had wanted to hear, apparently. He swept her up and carried her to the bed, kissing her so hard she gave up on any hope of breathing. The candles guttered and flickered; the fire hissed and leaped up; but they lay on the bed together, a conflagration of their own between them, and did not look away from each other for the whole of that long night.
CHAPTER 24
THE last two weeks had crawled by at a glacial pace, and even the gathering dark of oncoming winter could not cheer Ellynor up. She felt confused and restless and uneasy and lonely and, just the tiniest bit, at risk.
Justin had called her a mystic. She was sure it wasn’t true— and yet it could be true—he knew more about such things than she did. Ellynor had explained to him very earnestly that the goddess had conferred small magics upon her and he had replied impatiently, “Yes, of course. Magic is a gift from the gods.” Which no one in the convent had ever said, or seemed to believe, so perhaps he was wrong.
It was not like she could ask. It was not like Darris or Shavell would sit down with her and kindly delineate what constituted sorcery and what did not. Oh, your ability to heal with a touch? That’s not magic. We don’t mind such displays. The Lestra would not be at all disturbed to learn you had such powers.
The Lestra would be unhappy indeed.
Ellynor began to think Justin was right. She needed to leave the convent.
She began formulating letters in her head, during the days while she was cooking in the kitchen, during the nights when she could not sleep. My dear Father: I miss the family. I miss the feast days. Please, may I come home for a visit? Rosurie does not want to leave, but please, may I come home? That might not be strong enough. Neither her father nor her uncle would want her to leave Rosurie behind, and a little home-sickness would not seem, to them, to merit the long trip across the mountains to fetch her.
Maybe she should write Torrin instead. If he believed she was unhappy, he would sail across the world to find her. He would battle the guards at
the convent gates. He would bundle her up across his horse and go pounding back out into the forest, racing away till they were free of pursuit. My brother: Come for me. They are cruel to me here. That would fetch him for certain. He wouldn’t even balk at leaving Rosurie behind— or, more likely, would drag her along with them, screaming and protesting that she didn’t want to leave.