Duality (18 page)

The moment of truth had come.

Dara eyed the elves awaiting them at the palace entry. Great Goddess, they corralled the entire herd for the show.

A younger version of Loren bounded down the stone stairs and threw his arms around Loren with a whoop. “Welcome home, wanderer. It has been too long.”

“Bran.” Loren hugged him back. “Good to see you again.”

A beautiful woman with Loren’s eyes smiled at Dara then glared at the man next to her. Dara stared at him. A small grey cloud hovered over his head; rain poured down his body and soaked his clothes. Dara glanced up at a clear sky, then back at the man. He winked at her and heaved a dramatic sigh.

Loren burst into laughter. “Lord and Lady, Granther, what did you do to Granna this time?”

“Thou wouldst be best served by ignorance,” the woman stated. “Welcome home, lad. Thou hast been missed.”

Dara blinked. The rain-soaked mess was former High King Pari ta Lir? The woman was Lorelei, the family water mage? She swallowed hard. “Remind me to stay on her good side,” she murmured to Loren.

He just grinned and shook his head.

Brannan smiled at Dara and bowed. “Lady’s blessing on you, Lady Dara.”

Lady? Dara opened her mouth to correct him, but Loren’s hand on her hip stayed her words. “Th-thank you, Prince Brannan.”

The prince grinned at his older brother. “I must get back to my potion making. I shall see you at dinner. Cook prepared your favorite dessert, crème rija pudding with hukoberry sauce. If you are late, I shall eat your portion too.”

Loren unsheathed his sword as he climbed the stairs to greet an older man with a simple circlet of gold and jewels. Loren handed his king the blade. “Thy Justice returns.”

“Thou hast been gone a long time.” Cedric studied his son for a long moment. “Bound to the Lady’s Justice now. Thou hast done well.” Cedric nodded as he handed Justice back to Loren. “We shalt speak later.”

“What is this I hear about Brannan potion making?” Loren asked his father. “His last experiments turned all the geese green for a week until Gwendolyn reversed it.”

Green geese? Dara choked at the image.

“He hast taken an interest in healing and apprenticed to Benilo himself. Benilo hast him making his own medicines.”

Lorelei smiled. “It is good to see him doing something useful with his questioning mind other than seeking knowledge for knowledge’s sake. It is a good calling. He hast compassion and talent for finding problems beyond the obvious.”

Cedric stared at Dara. She felt weighed and measured, and tried not to shake. “Thou art welcome, youngling. Long hast it been since thy family graced our home with its presence. Enter. Be at ease.”

She looked around. The whole herd wasn’t here…quite. Where was Deane? She glanced at Loren, puzzled.

“I see Deane’s duties detained him again. Might we see him and Paulette at dinner?”

“Thou wilt indeed.” Lorelei stepped forward and addressed Dara. “Thou hast come a long and frightful way. Thou need rest. Come with me to thy quarters.”

Dara turned to Loren in panic at being separated from the one familiar thing in this new and—she glanced at Pari—strange world.

Loren nodded. “It is all right. Take a bath, eat, rest until dinner. I shall come for you then.”

Dara looked into the too-familiar eyes of the elven mage. They were the kindest she’d ever seen.

“Be easy, youngling. Thy chambers are aside Loren’s. Thou wilt see him soon. Please, follow me.” Lorelei turned and climbed the stairs, entering into the palace antechamber. Velvet-cushioned benches lined the walls to either side. Passing through a narrow door that could be barred from the inside, they entered the main formal hall.

Cedric’s dais and throne gleamed with gold and gems, with arms like a giant swan’s folded wings. They walked through the hall to a smaller doorway guarded by a uniformed warrior, who snapped to attention as the dowager queen approached.

“I promise the full tour later, but for now this is a shortcut to Loren’s tower suite.”

They followed a green-leaf-patterned runner down a marble-tiled corridor. The family portraits eyed her as she passed. Dara stared at one mounted king and his war mare. They doubled for Loren and Hani`ena.

Lorelei noted where her gaze had come to rest. “Kiel Brightblade and Aka`ula, our first high king. He ascended during the first goblin war. He was every inch a warrior yet ruled for three hundred years afore he was killed in the Battle of Carolwyn’s Crossing and Joran ascended. Loren reminds me very much of Kiel.”

Did she say goblin war
? Dara wondered.
The
first
goblin war?
First Hani`ena mentioned Loren’s brother Markale was killed by trolls and now goblins? Dara began to wonder about the barriers betwixt the realm of the dawn and the world of men. Just who protected whom from what?

“Loren didn’t tell me of his heritage.”

“Nay, he does not. Loren discovered early on people treat royalty differently.” Lorelei shot her a sharp glance, but Dara caught sadness behind wariness in her eyes. “He prefers things simpler, so he says naught. Loren hast a heart for adventure and travel. We cannot keep him home and wouldst not clip his wings.” She produced an elegant key and handed it to Dara. “Here. For thee. Through here.”

Dara turned the key in the lock and entered the room. She stopped and stared.
Even bigger than Hengist’s bedchamber
. And so grand. The furniture was made of golden wood. There was a bed as wide as she was tall. Aside it a nightstand held an oil lamp. A bookshelf stood on the opposite wall. A long, low table surrounded by four upright chairs set afore an enormous mirror and a rocking chair brought a lump to her throat. There was rich fabric in red, orange, bronze and gold. She eyed the various doors. “Where—”

Lorelei opened the first one to a closet full of dresses. She gestured to another door. “Loren’s chambers. Asides the housekeeper, thou holds the only key.”

Dara stared at Loren’s door with trepidation and swallowed hard. Surely not? Had Loren’s family misconstrued their relationship? Adjoining rooms were reserved for married couples, at least in her world. Did the rules differ here? Mayhaps they let her stay close to the familiar? She hated not knowing and was afraid to ask.

Lorelei opened the last remaining door into a room such as Dara had never seen afore. There was a tub, and a waist-high basin held up on an odd pillar from the floor. She eyed the handles and looked at Loren’s grandmother. The elven woman smiled and turned one. Water poured into the basin from the spout in the wall.

Dara squeaked and jumped back.

“Fear not, youngling. This place is built on a sleeping volcano, with heat vents and hot springs. It is a matter of pipes and fancy bellows and waterwheels. We hath heated floors and access to hot and cold water.” She smiled. “Our builders hath had much time to think of ways to make life more comfortable.” She indicated a small doorway beyond the tub. “Indoor privy.”

Dara noted the seat-covered basin held water. “How?”

Lorelei indicated the pipes entering from the ceiling. “Pull that handle there. The bowl’s contents drain though pipes in the bottom and water refills from the pipes atop.”

Dara had never conceived of such a notion. She stared at the tub with longing. “A
hot
bath?”

“As much as the tub holds and hot as thou couldst wish.” She pulled both handles on the tub. “Tell me when it suits.”

Dara did. “Warmer.” Lorelei adjusted the handles until the girl smiled at the rising steam. “There. Perfect.”

The mage stopped the drain in the bottom with a circle of sanded wood and then poured a generous dollop of dark red oil into the water. A cloud of spicy-scented steam rose.

The scent hit Dara hard, straight into her brain. She purred. “What
is
that?”

“Valerian blend. The maker tells not the recipe. Attempts to copy, fail.” Lorelei smiled. “It was thy granna’s favorite scent.” When the tub was full she turned off the water. “Very well, climb in.”

Dara looked at her askance. “I can bathe myself.”

Lorelei was adamant. “Thou hast had a hard week. I know of the branding and the iron poisoning. I wish to look at that clan-healer’s work. Thou canst hardly be shy of an old woman.” She laughed. “Asides, who shalt wash thy back?”

Dara crawled out of Moira’s clothes and slid into the tub. The heat seeped into her bones and she relaxed and closed her eyes, leaning against the sloped back of the tub. Paradise.

Lorelei’s hands entered the water, and her fingertips touched Dara’s sides. “She healed the ribs and bruising just fine. Couldst she not heal the iron poisoning as well?”

Dara shook her head. “Nay. She said ’twas beyond her skill, that I needed a metal mage.” She opened her eyes and looked down at the brand on her right shoulder. “She said she couldn’t remove that, either.” Dara glared. “I will, even if it means cutting it out. I can fight left-handed.”

“Well, youngling, that is a bit drastic.” Lorelei’s eyes narrowed. “I am not a healing mage, but this goes beyond even their scope. I know no metal mages. Here they are rare as a phoenix egg. They exist, but in another land far away. We hath not dealt with those people since they refused us aid in the second goblin war, but I shalt call.”

“Can you not do something yourself?”

Lorelei looked rueful. “Didst thou think immortal meant all-knowing? Mages hath access to their own element of magic, but that is all. I am a water mage, youngling; I hold no sway with metals. I am sorry.”

Without power, it would take some nerve to cut the mark from her arm and risk it not healing properly. Dara swallowed her disappointment when she wanted to howl it aloud.

Lorelei frowned. “There might be another who canst help.”

“Another person?”

“Nay. Thou might call it a family heirloom. Thy mother Sheena left it years ago.”

“My mother was here?”

“Aye.” Lorelei’s expression was guarded. “Thou might not want it. It is a magical torque, sentient with the spirits of thy ancestresses, bound to thy family by blood magic. Thou art the only one who canst claim it and use it. Hopefully thy warrior training shalt give thee the needed discipline to prevent it from using thee.”

Dara’s temper flared. “No one uses me.”

“My point.” Lorelei radiated satisfaction. “I shalt leave thee to soak whilst I fetch something to eat. When I return we shalt get thee washed and dressed. Dinner is not for three hours yet. Time enough for a nap. Thou need rest if thou wouldst face thy destiny.”

Dara closed her eyes. The scented steam seeped into her, and she relaxed, enjoying the rare peace. She ducked under the water, letting her hair soak up the scent as well. All her aches melted away, and though the worries were still there, they seemed distant, more manageable.

A knock at the door stirred her from her doze. “I hath returned,” Lorelei announced. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” The dowager queen asked permission in her own home? “Please.” She sat up as the woman entered.

Lorelei rolled up her sleeves. “Well, there is food on the other side of that door. No eating in the tub, so let us get thee washed and out.” She scrubbed Dara head to toe with gentle efficiency, washing her hair and rinsing it with more of the oil-scented water. “It shalt make thy hair gleam like bronze fresh from the forge.”

“Thank you for your kindness, lady.”

Lorelei waved her words away. “Thou art no trouble, youngling. I foresee much-needed change with thy arrival.”

Dara sobered. All she seemed to bring was blood, death and destruction. If the elves were smart they’d send her right back to Jalad. She stared at the slave brand on her arm.

Lorelei helped her from the tub. Drying, Dara changed into clean undergarments and a simple white shift while Lorelei drained the tub. Out in the main room, they sat on the bed. Lorelei settled a tray across Dara’s lap. There was some sort of paste on flaky rolls, raw root vegetables, a piece of purple fruit and a pot of tea.

Dara took a cautious bite of one roll, and her eyes widened. The rich earthy taste, somewhere betwixt a mushroom and a truffle, was somehow familiar on a visceral level, spicy and filling. “It’s wonderful.”

“Tasi root spread. A family recipe—thy family, not mine.”

“You knew my family?” Dara’s heart began pounding.

“Indeed. Eat up. Trust me, thou shalt need thy strength.”

Chapter Nine

Tugging his velvet tunic down, Loren knocked on the door adjoining Dara’s room to his own. Did he thank or strangle his meddling grandparents for this?

“Come in.” Lorelei’s immense satisfaction hit him, and a shy uncertainty that was Dara. Lady knew what his granna had done to the poor girl.

He stepped through the door and froze. He knew he stared, mouth agape, but he could not seem to close it. Dara was a vision in a long-sleeved shimmering gown of gold brightcloth split over an undergown of sheryl-silk that gleamed maple red and burnt orange as she moved. Lorelei had wound her hair with gold braiding but left it down; it flowed like a river of fire over one shoulder to her waist.

“I look like a butterfly.” Topaz glinted at her throat and ears. Dara glared at Lorelei and tugged at the brocade train. “I break my neck on those stairs, you’d best throw me the world’s fanciest funeral. What fool invented skirts longer than the ankles?”