“I’m…dizzy.” Drummer doubted they would take him seriously if he said his spells were out of control.
“Would you care to retire?” Javelin asked.
Drummer could have closed his eyes with relief. He didn’t, though, not when everyone could see. He just said, “Yes, that would be good.”
Javelin must have communicated with Jade, for she nodded. No one else was paying much attention except Baz, and Drummer doubted the general would regret seeing him leave. As Drummer stood up, the other guests turned curious gazes his way. He bowed to Jade and Onyx. He had no idea if that was proper, as at Castle Suncroft, but they would attribute anomalies in his manners to his coming from Aronsdale. Jade inclined her head and smiled, though he felt her underlying worry. Onyx asked her a question, and she turned back to him. With relief Drummer left the explanations to the queen.
Mercifully, his guards didn’t take him past the other guests. Instead, they went to a wall behind the dais. Havej pulled aside the heavy drapes to reveal a door shaped like the lock for a skeleton key. After they left the Topaz Hall, the voices and music receded, and Drummer no longer felt as much. He was aware of his guards’ moods, but there were only three of them and they didn’t have strong emotions now, just boredom and some concern for him.
They took him to an antechamber deep within the palace. Oil lamps glowed within glass flowers set into the ivory walls. The scrolled moldings around the ceiling and floor pleased the eye, as did the goldwood furniture. The chamber contained a chair, a bed, and nothing with a pure shape except for a little round table. The last remnants of his spell faded.
Grateful, he lay on the bed. He felt as if he had been tossed in a flood and washed up on a beach. Not only was he no longer hungry, he doubted he could keep anything down. He didn’t intend to sleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes, lethargy settled over him….
“Come on,” the dusky voice coaxed. “You don’t want to stay all night in these stiff, scratchy clothes, do you?”
What he didn’t want to do was wake up. However, the voice kept at him, and after a while he comprehended that it was Jade.
Drummer opened his eyes. He had sprawled across the bed on his stomach. Only a candle on the table lit the room. His guards were gone and the door closed, probably locked. Jade was sitting next to him, her hip against his elbow. She still wore her red silk dress, and in the candlelight, her creamy skin glowed.
“Greetings,” he murmured, unsure if he was awake. This sensual vision of Jade had to be a dream. He rolled onto his side and reached up to trace his fingertips along her cheek. So soft. She took his hand and set it back on the bed—but she didn’t release his fingers. So he lay there, gazing at the queen in the candlelight, and held her hand.
He wondered if she had any hint how lovely she looked in the dim golden light. “How long have I been here?”
“Most of the night. It is two hours beyond midnight.”
“I’m sorry I was such a poor dinner guest. I don’t know what happened.” He couldn’t tell her about the spells. People in Taka Mal believed magecraft was quackery or else thought mages perpetrated only evil. Jade would probably think he was crazy.
She touched his arm. “You look better now.”
“Much better.” Drummer stroked her fingers. So long and elegant. He wanted to kiss them. “Where are my guards?”
“I sent them outside.” She hesitated. “For a Topaz Pact.”
“Pact?” He looked up at her face and her full lips.
“A pact with Topaz. It means an agreement with a person who stands in representation of the throne. In the Misted Cliffs, they call it a Sapphire pact. In Harsdown, the pact is with the Jaguar. Here it is with Topaz. Me. If you agree.”
Drummer had never heard of such a thing. Not that he had ever listened much. During his visits with Chime and Muller, he usually fell asleep or slipped away when they talked of politics.
“What do I have to do if I agree to this pact?” he asked.
Amusement flickered over her face. “Nothing, beautiful singer. Just stay put.”
“Beautiful, eh?” He wouldn’t argue with that. “I like your Topaz Pact.”
Her smile softened her face. “I’m glad. Then I won’t ask the guards to come back in.”
So. She wanted to be alone with him. A slow smile came to him. “You’re a lot better company.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she spoke in a neutral tone. “Ozi has offered me a pact.”
“Who?”
“Ozi. The atajazid.”
He couldn’t imagine anyone daring to call the Jazid king “Ozi.” Then again, Jade wasn’t just anyone. “What did he propose?” As soon as the words came out, he winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“Like what?”
“A marriage proposal.”
“It was.”
His drowsy contentment fled. He sat up abruptly, taking her other hand as well. “You told him no, didn’t you?”
She went very still. “I have given him no answer yet.”
He was suddenly aware of how close they were. He didn’t stop to think; he just bent his head and kissed her. She stiffened—but this time she didn’t push him away.
Drummer held her hands and took his time kissing her, savoring the warmth of her response. Finally he lifted his head the barest amount. “Think about that when you make your decision.”
“You mustn’t touch me,” she murmured. But she showed no inclination to slap him this time. Even so, he knew he was insane to take such a liberty. Baz would flay him alive for touching her, and saints only know how Ozar would react. But he couldn’t think straight around Jade. What rationality he had to start with, which many declared was little indeed, fled.
Drummer pulled her close and filled his embrace with her voluptuous body. She tensed as if to pull away. But something had changed. Maybe it was the wine, or the jeweled night, or just the right time, but she relaxed against him, her body pliant. He held his breath, afraid if he moved, it would startle her into a retreat. As much as he had pursued her these weeks, deep inside he had believed that she, a queen, would always reject him. Yet desire had simmered within her at the banquet, and now she was in his arms.
He laid his cheek against her head. Her hair slid against his skin, soft and perfumed. Bending his head, he searched until his lips brushed hers. Then he froze, sure she would object. When she parted her lips instead, he groaned and deepened the kiss, urgent rather than tender. He slid his hands onto her shoulders, gauging how much she would accept. Waiting for her protest. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him more.
The night felt like a spell, unreal, an enchantment within a filmy soap bubble that would pop if he thought about it too much. He peeled her dress all the way down to her waist, and still she didn’t protest. With her body pressed against his, he felt her heartbeat speed up. He held her breasts, and his control slipped for the second time that day, but this had nothing to do with mages, except that ageless spell woman had woven over man since the first humans walked the settled lands.
They stretched out on the bed, side by side. He tugged at her dress, and her hands wandered his body, fumbling with his clothes. It took a while to take his off and much less time to unwrap her silk. Finally they lay with bare skin on bare skin. He wanted to caress her tenderly, and he wanted to shove her down and impale her body. He rolled her onto her back and eased between her thighs. Then he buried himself in her warmth, and she pressed against him with her hips. He knew he could be signing his death warrant if Baz or Ozar found out what he had done. But he couldn’t have stopped even if the palace were collapsing around them.
With the candle guttering in the dim light, a minstrel from Aronsdale loved the queen of Taka Mal. No dalliance this; Vizarana Jade had taken his heart.
8
Topaz Mage
Clouds churned in the vast sky above Harsdown. It wasn’t raining enough to soak anyone whose garments were slicked with wax. The w
ind and moisture exhilarated Mel as she raced Smoke through the rare summer storm. She felt more at ease in her riding breeches and thick shirt than in all those lovely gowns she wore at the Diamond Palace. She let Smoke gallop for the sheer joy of it, and her hair streamed in the gusting air. Cobalt came alongside her on Admiral, riding with her in the wild day, and Mel felt closer to him than she had since they had learned of Stonebreaker’s illness.
Eventually the horses spent their pent-up energy and slowed down. Cobalt also seemed calmer, as if he, too, had needed the release. The rest of their party caught up: Matthew and General Cragland; Kindler, the messenger from Harsdown; and thirty warriors in an honor guard. Most of the guard had kept pace with Cobalt and Mel, but far enough away to give them privacy. Now, as everyone slowed down, they gathered into a tighter group.
It was late afternoon on their fifth day in Harsdown. The sun behind them stretched their shadows in long silhouettes. They were heading toward the Boxer-Mage Mountains that separated Harsdown from Aronsdale. What they sought lay at the base of those mountains in a fertile dale, and with every step closer, Mel’s spirits lifted.
“Look!” She pointed down the long slope ahead of them. In the distance, endless rows of pear trees spread out, rich with the verdant foliage of early summer.
“Come on!” Mel urged Smoke into a gallop, and he took off with renewed energy. Cobalt raced with her down the slope. When they plunged into the familiar rows of trees, Mel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She reined in Smoke, and the horses walked through the misty orchard while the storm rumbled above them.
It took over an hour for them to come out of the trees. They rode into a grassy field in front of a farmhouse with many wings, arched eaves, and round windows with glass pictures of apples and pears. The house was built from sunbask wood, warm and golden, so vivid it seemed to glow in the wet, overcast day. Mel didn’t know how she looked, but Cobalt’s face gentled as he watched her.
“Welcome home,” he said.
Mel’s parents met her in front of the house, her mother crying as they hugged, her father putting his arms around them as tears wet his cheeks. The bustle of people soon filled Applecroft. They couldn’t all fit inside, so the Chamberlight honor guard set up camp in the fields, and Mel, Cobalt, Matthew, and Cragland stayed at the house. Mel’s father also had a company of his own army stationed around the orchards. It was the trade-off they made for living in a farmhouse instead of a castle; they had to have men guarding the house and lands. The Fortress of Bones was only a few minutes’ ride from the house, however, and protected the village of Granite. If necessary, the royal family and the villagers could retreat within the stone walls of that keep.
Mel’s reunion with her parents was bittersweet, filled with the joy of seeing them but also with the knowledge of the crisis that brought them together. Her mother and father looked alike with their yellow hair and blue eyes, but more gray showed at her father’s temples than Mel remembered. He was forty-seven, nine years older than her mother.
Mel had never known a man who enjoyed fine clothes as much as her father. He was impeccable in his tailored trousers of gold suede, his amber-suede knee-boots, elegant white shirt, and the gold vest with fastenings imported from Jazid. Her mother wore blue leggings under a tunic with fluttering layers of silk. Her parents were beautiful, she supposed, but that didn’t really matter to her. She knew many exquisite people who were cold inside. The Misted Cliffs were full of them. She loved her parents for the warmth of their hearts and their unconditional love.
Before dinner, Mel went in search of Fog. She found her cat curled up on her parents’ bed, obviously in command of the room and probably the house as well. Mel scooped him up in her arms. He gave a mew of protest and squirmed until she set him back on the bed. Then he sniffed at her hand and rubbed against her fingers, purring as he welcomed her into his house.
That evening, they dined at the big table. Afterward, they withdrew to the study: Muller, Chime, Mel, Cobalt, General Cragland, and Sphere-General Fieldson of Harsdown. Mel thought it strange to see the two generals in the same meeting. Had she and Cobalt never married, Cragland would have fought Fieldson when Varqelle invaded Harsdown to regain his throne. Yet now they sat as allies. Neither looked comfortable with the situation, but they kept their reservations to themselves. They were cut from the same cloth: rugged and intelligent, with a natural ability to lead.
Cobalt asked Matthew to sit in on the meeting. As stable master at the Castle of Clouds and a horseman for decades, Matthew had a natural instinct for strategy that involved horses, and he understood cavalry with an expertise few could claim, including most career officers. Mel suspected Matthew was also the only person in the meeting Cobalt fully trusted.
They sat in wing chairs or couches drawn into a circle, with sunbask tables between their seats and glasses of mulled wine. Candles on the mantel and tables shed golden light. Night had fallen, the time to retire, but this meeting was too important to delay until morning.
Mel could see her parents’ fatigue. In the past year, her father’s role as commander of the Harsdown forces had demanded more and more time, as he and his cousin Jarid trained their armies together. They called their efforts exercises, but everyone knew they were building a military capable of standing against Cobalt. Muller also had his other duties as king of Harsdown. Chime carried some of those responsibilities and ran the orchard, but it was a demanding life even in peacetime. With Drummer’s abduction added to the mix, it was no wonder they were exhausted.
No one wanted the houses of Dawnfield and Chamberlight to go to war, but the tension in the study tonight gave mute witness to the lack of trust between their leaders. Mel sometimes felt as if she were a cord stretched between the two, one constantly pulled, twisted and strained until she felt as if she would snap.
“We must negotiate with the House of Quaazera,” Chime was saying. “Otherwise they might hurt him.”
“We all wish to see your brother free and well,” General Cragland said. “But we cannot buckle to the demands of those who seek to control us.”
Mel noticed how he addressed Chime with respect even though she had been his enemy during the war, nineteen years ago. People tended to like her mother. Chime had been wild in her youth, full of mischief, or so Mel had heard from her grandmother. Since then, Chime had matured into the leader who had spent the last two decades developing programs to help impoverished farmers and bee tenders in Harsdown learn techniques that would increase their output and better their lives.
“How much military training does Drummer have?” Matthew asked. “If we can get him out of there, can he ride a horse?”
“A bit, I believe,” Fieldson said. “No military experience.”
“He’s impulsive,” Chime said. Wryly she added, “He doesn’t always show the best judgment.”
Mel spoke the fear that had gnawed at her since they received the news. “They won’t torture or execute him.” She made it a statement, but they all knew the question in her words.
Fieldson shifted in his seat and Cragland averted his gaze. Even Matthew wouldn’t look at her.
“We’ll have him back soon,” Muller said. His gentle tone hurt, for Mel knew what it meant. He couldn’t give the answer she wanted to hear.
“If they harm Drummer,” Cobalt said flatly, “we harm them.”
Matthew scowled at him. “Wage war against Taka Mal, and we make Jazid our enemy as well.”
“I have seven thousand men,” Cobalt said. “Taka Mal and Jazid combined have little more than six.”
“More than numbers matter,” Fieldson said. “Your forces combine two disparate militaries, Shazire and the Misted Cliffs. The armies of Jazid and Taka Mal are more used to working together. They also know how to fight in the desert. Yours don’t.”
Mel thought of her sword practices with Cobalt’s officers. She noticed differences in her training and theirs, and the training in Shazire differed even more. “We need to consider we
apons, too. Shazire is less well equipped than most armies, with older swords and bows, less durable than our more modern weapons.”
Cragland nodded, his face thoughtful. “That won’t be true of Taka Mal or Jazid, though. They consider fighting an art.”
Cobalt settled his gaze on Muller. Mel knew what he was about to say, and she wanted to shout her protest.
“If Harsdown and Aronsdale join forces with us,” Cobalt said, “we would have an army unlike any ever seen in the settled lands. Twelve thousand strong. Discrepancies in training and equipment would become trivial.”
Muller considered him. Mel knew that, decades ago, people had questioned her father’s ability to command an army, not because he lacked training or intelligence, but because they saw his graceful, almost pretty appearance as weakness. But Mel knew him as a seasoned leader who inspired confidence, and she saw it in his unwavering gaze as he regarded Cobalt. Generals Cragland and Fieldson were taking each other’s measure, and Mel could almost feel them wondering what would happen if they combined their armies. She felt the heady power in that idea. No one would stand against such a force!
No. No. Cobalt seduced her with his thirst for conquest. How many would die for his unquenchable need? It would never end. If the armies of Dawnfield and Chamberlight defeated the armies of Quaazera and Onyx, who would rule the new empire? Not so long ago, Dawnfield and Chamberlight had bitterly opposed each other. Mel’s marriage had given them a truce, and Drummer’s abduction pushed them together as wary allies, but she could never imagine either giving way to the rule of the other.
Muller finally spoke. “I will not ride against Taka Mal.”
“And if Queen Vizarana executes Drummer?” Cobalt asked.
Chime rose to her feet and faced him, slender and pale in the candlelight, a wraith compared to his might. “As far as we know, Drummer is alive. We must negotiate. We must do everything we can to bring him home.” Her voice shook. “Alive.”