Prince's Fire (32 page)

“They don't wear a loros in Inya?” she asked Lucien.

“No, they told me here it's the mantle and the sword,” he answered.

When the cheering died down, Rayn spoke once again to the crowd. “I'd like to ask the Kjallan Imperial Princess, Celeste Florian Nigellus, to come up onstage with me.”

Celeste's neck heated as thousands of eyes turned toward her. “Oh, gods,” she whispered.

“You can do this,” Lucien whispered back. “Go.”

Celeste dismounted from her horse, conscious of the many eyes on her, and made her way onto the stage. Up close, Rayn looked larger-than-life in his red robe and face paint and jeweled mantle. But beneath all that, she could see the kind, intelligent eyes of the man she loved.

He took her hands and addressed the crowd. “People of Inya, without this woman, the conspiracy against my life would not have been unraveled in time, and I wouldn't be here today.” He dropped to one knee before her, and as he did so, every Inyan in the crowd knelt as well. They fell like a wave, rippling out from the stage, leaving only the Kjallans standing upright or sitting on their horses.

Rayn held the jeweled sword horizontally, like an offering, with one hand on its hilt and the other on its scabbard. “I ask you to share with me the burdens of kingship. Will you walk through fire with me, Celeste Florian Nigellus of Kjall?”

For a moment, she was confused.
Walk through fire?
Then she remembered that walking through fire was part of the royal marriage ceremony. Rayn was proposing!

“Rayn Daryson of Inya,” she said, “I will walk through fire with you anytime.”

Rayn, grinning in delight, thrust the sword toward her. She took it. Rayn rose to his feet, and the crowd rose too, roaring their approval. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her fiercely.

I
n the days that followed, Celeste was so busy, she barely had time to catch her breath. The wedding had been arranged for four months hence, but for now that was the least of her concerns.

Rayn had brought formal charges against Councilor Worryn. The resulting investigation had implicated four more Land Council members who voted with him in a bloc. It turned out they'd been in on the decision to hire the Riorcan assassins, and had helped finance the endeavor.

Suddenly the Land Council had five vacancies, and new candidates were vying for the elected positions.

Celeste and Rayn settled the trade agreement with Vitala and Lucien. It had already been written up and wanted only Lucien's signature, which after some obligatory grumbling he provided. Then there were hugs and kisses and tearful farewells all around, and the Kjallans—everyone except Celeste and her bodyguard—set sail for home. They would return for the wedding.

Celeste and Rayn moved from the Hibiscus Tower into the royal wing. However, they did not take up residence in the king's quarters. Those were, as a courtesy, granted to Rayn's father, who in his increasing madness did not tolerate change well and who was set much at ease by returning to the familiar. For themselves, they claimed the prince's quarters, Rayn's old room.

Rayn's mother and sister were returned to the royal wing, as was Aderyn. Rayn relented and hired a personal bodyguard. Celeste had, with special dispensation from Lucien, arranged to keep Atella with her in Inya. Atella remained a member of the Kjallan Legaciatti and would continue to accrue her years of service. Women Legaciatti served fourteen years before being granted a generous retirement stipend, and Atella was halfway through her term.

As the initial excitement of exploring a new land began to wear off, and her family departed, Celeste began to feel the pangs of homesickness. It was not easy, starting a new life in an unfamiliar place. But Rayn's love and companionship gave her strength. They retained the habit of taking his coffee and her chocolate together every morning, just the two of them, no matter what else they had going on that day. Most days they were together, and on those days when Rayn's business took him elsewhere, they were together at night, Rayn searing her with his fire touch, their bodies straining together for release. During the day, Inya's king belonged to his people. But at night he was Celeste's.

Lucien had promised to bring her personal possessions when he and Vitala returned for the wedding: her horse, Raven; her unfinished math treatise; her clothes and knickknacks. Celeste grew hungry for intellectual stimulation and spoke to the scholars at the Tiasan University. She made arrangements to found the Inyan Mathematical Society, an organization open to both men and women.

Rayn had but one sorrow remaining in his life—his father's deterioration. Though he had moved his father back to his old room and no longer heard complaints about the former king's loss of his window, the former king continued to be suspicious and hostile.

Rayn visited him frequently, despite the usually disappointing outcome. Today Celeste, who had yet to meet Zalyo, offered to accompany him. As they approached the man's door, Rayn turned to her and said, “What you see may disturb you. He's not himself.”

“I understand.” Celeste was not nervous. She knew not to expect much from the profoundly ill man. But poor Rayn's hands were trembling. This was more emotional for him than it was for her. He had known his father in his prime; thus it was more disturbing for him to see the man's deterioration. But Celeste had never known a sane Zalyo, and did not approach this meeting with any expectations.

“My family is not like yours,” Rayn added. “Your relatives—they are all competent, all capable. Mine . . . well . . .”

“None of us have perfect families,” said Celeste. “Your father may be mad now, but at one time he was an excellent king who taught you everything you know. My father, on the other hand, massacred thousands.”

Rayn blinked, taken aback. “You make a sound point.”

“I am not my father, and you are not yours,” said Celeste. “Let's go in.”

Konani, the caretaker, ushered them into the room.

Zalyo was sitting at the window, staring out. He glanced at them briefly before returning his attention to the window. “Arrick, is that you?”

“No, it's your son, Rayn,” said Rayn. “And I've brought someone else to see you.”

“Not now,” said Zalyo. “I'm waiting for Arrick.”

Rayn looked quizzically at Konani.

Konani whispered, “An old fleet captain, I think.”

“Oh, I remember.” Rayn addressed his father again. “Sir, Captain Arrick isn't available—”

Zalyo waved his hand. “Go and fetch him. There's an attack ship in the harbor.”

Rayn went to the window. “That one?” said Rayn, indicating a ship that was just dropping anchor.

“Yes!” cried Zalyo. “Get Arrick right away.”

“Father, that's a Mosari merchant ship.”

Zalyo rounded on them. “Is it your place to question me, you . . . you . . .”

“I'm your son.” Rayn's voice broke as he said it. “I came to introduce you to my fiancée, Princess Celeste.” He'd told her in advance he would not mention where she was from; Zalyo had a habit of becoming fretful at any mention of Kjall.

Zalyo's eyes went back and forth from Rayn to Celeste to Rayn again. “What is this nonsense? You're distracting me when our nation is at war! Why are we not firing on the ship? Get Captain Arrick.”

“Sir—” began Rayn.

“Who are you?” demanded Zalyo. “Have you come to take my window? To take my throne? I'll not have it. Konani!”

“Give me a moment,” said Konani, rushing to him. “I'll quiet him.”

Celeste and Rayn let Konani take over with his soothing voice and moved to the back of the room.

Rayn's voice trembled as he spoke. “I'm sorry. I was hoping this would work, but clearly it's not going to. He's just . . . he's . . . Look, Captain Arrick died six years ago.”

“I'm so sorry,” said Celeste. “I have a thought. You can tell me no if you're not comfortable with it.”

“What's your thought?”

“I can use mind magic on him.”

Rayn shook his head. “Absolutely not. I don't want his mind tampered with.”

“Before you decide, hear me out,” said Celeste. “I can use a suggestion to quiet his fears and remind him who you are. It's true that a suggestion tampers with the mind, but the effects are temporary. It will wear off within the hour, and it may help him remember a few things. I'm not familiar with his particular condition, but I've used suggestions for healing purposes before.”

Rayn sighed and looked back at Konani, who was making soothing gestures at a ranting Zalyo. “We'll try it. Just once.”

They crossed the room to the window, where Konani raised his hands to warn them off. “Your Majesty, he's not having a good day.”

“Let's try just once more,” said Rayn.

Celeste projected her suggestion immediately.
Inya is not at war, and there are no attack ships in the harbor. This is my son standing before me, whom I raised from infancy.

The lines in Zalyo's face relaxed. His stared at them slack-jawed. After a moment, he said, “Rayn?”

Rayn took Zalyo's hand in his own. His voice broke as he answered, “Yes, Father, it's me.”

“You've grown, son. Is that the Ormathian Mantle you wear?”

“Yes, Father. I'm king now.” Rayn looked apprehensive, and Celeste bit her lip as she awaited the former king's response.

Zalyo shook his head. “I don't remember. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me these days. I remember so little—”

“Don't apologize,” said Rayn.

“You won your ratification vote?” asked Zalyo.

“Yes, Father.”

“I knew you would,” said Zalyo. “Always, you made me proud.”

Rayn's face crumpled. Celeste placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

Zalyo looked up at her. “Who is this young lady with you?”

Rayn rose from his kneeling position and slipped his hand into hers. “This is Celeste, my fiancée. I came here to introduce her to you.”

Zalyo studied her. “She's beautiful.”

“She certainly is,” said Rayn.

“You'll take care of my son, won't you?” asked Zalyo.

“Every moment of his life,” Celeste promised.

C
eleste felt both nervous and a little ridiculous as she made her way through the crowd with Rayn, clasping wrists with friends old and new. It was their wedding day, and this time she too was wearing the Inyan face paint. Her wedding dress was lighter in weight than a Kjallan one would be, on account of the weather. It was an elaborate gold-and-white garment of tulle and satin, embroidered with thousands of tiny pearls. Rayn, who followed just behind her, was dressed in silver, the traditional color of Inyan bridegrooms.

It was a fine day, which was fortunate because Inyan royal weddings were held outdoors, and if it rained, they had to be postponed. She and Rayn had chosen for their location the hidden cove where he'd given her the ring cowrie. She greatly preferred the sounds of sand and surf to the hollow echoes of an indoor hall.

Before the ceremony commenced, it was customary for the bridal couple to greet all the guests. That way, they could be spirited away immediately after the ceremony to their private chamber for the all-important consummation of the marriage—not that this particular marriage hadn't been well and truly consummated already.

The inaugural members of the Inyan Mathematical Society were in attendance: five men and three women. She clasped wrists with each of them as she moved down the line.

Near the end, she came to the Kjallans. First Justien and Nalica, and then her family. It amazed her that Vitala had made the trip. She was hugely pregnant now and accompanied at all times by a Healer, in case she went unexpectedly into labor. It was entirely possible that Vitala and Lucien's second child might be born in Inya, or, more likely, on the
Soldier's Sweep
during their voyage home.

She hugged Vitala gently, and then her brother.

“Are you really going to walk through fire?” asked Vitala.

She glanced back at the enormous line of firewood that had been set up on the beach. There was a ramp leading over it, so they wouldn't have to walk directly on the wood, but she supposed the ramp became quite hot when bathed in flames. “As I understand it, yes, we do.”

Lucien's brows furrowed. “You're sure this is safe?”

“Rayn insists that it is,” she said. “The tradition goes back to the days when fire mages were considered priests to the fire spirits. Walking through fire assured everyone that the spirits approved the match.”

“They'd better approve this one,” said Lucien, “or they'll have a war on their hands.”

“When do the officials light the fire?” asked Vitala.

“At the last minute, right before we walk through,” said Celeste. “Otherwise we'd be boiling out here.”

At the end of the line, they came to Rayn's family: his mother, Kin-Lera; his younger sister, Rilia; and his older sister, Selda, who had traveled here for the ceremony in the company of her Mosari husband. Aderyn sat babbling happily in Kima's arms. And Zalyo was present, accompanied by two caretakers.

It was clear to Celeste that Zalyo would never recover; the damage to his mind was incurable. But he suffered less now from paranoia and anxiety. Over the years, Councilor Worryn had exacerbated the man's symptoms by whispering in his ear about supposed wrongs that were being done to him. Now that Worryn was out of the picture—imprisoned for his crimes—Zalyo was more at ease. Rayn made a point of visiting with him several times a week to play Knots, a simple tile matching game. Zalyo tended to forget the rules and cheat, but that didn't matter. The point was spending time together. Some days Zalyo recognized Rayn and some days he didn't. When his father's state distressed him more than he could handle, Rayn came to Celeste afterward. They'd learned some mutually enjoyable techniques for quieting Rayn's inner fire. And while thus far Celeste had
not used her mind magic on Zalyo a second time—Rayn preferred as little interference with the workings of his mind as possible—they knew it was an option should Zalyo become too confused and agitated to find peace.

Now Celeste kissed Aderyn's cheek and clasped wrists with each of her in-laws, ending with Zalyo. She then left them to Rayn, who hugged them all in turn and whispered in their ears.

They'd reached the end of the line. It was time for the ceremony. Directed by the officials, they walked arm in arm around the line of firewood and took their place on its far side, so that they faced both the firewood and the crowd beyond it. A trumpet sounded, and an official said something in the Old Language. Then he repeated the words in Inyan.

Celeste listened with half an ear. It was a familiar litany of invocations to the gods, remarkably similar to what she'd heard in Kjall on countless occasions, although it was interesting to hear it in another language. She glanced at the ocean, bringer of gifts, and looked up at her fiancé. Would she ever tire of gazing at him? Even now, after knowing him in the most intimate of ways, she was amazed anew by the fact that he was the most beautiful creature she'd ever laid eyes on.

“It's time,” whispered Rayn.

The officials standing on the other side of the firewood dipped their lit torches into it. The wood must have been treated with something, because it rushed up in a great wall of flame before them, emitting a blistering wave of heat. Suddenly they were alone. Everyone else was on the other side, and the fire lay in between.

Celeste felt the heat for only an instant, and then she was surrounded by cool air. Rayn was using his magic.

He grinned. “Shall we?”

She nodded nervously. All they had to do was pass through that flame, and they would be married.

They stepped up onto the ramp. She would have shrunk from the flames, but Rayn moved steadily forward, encouraging her with his confidence. In front of them was an inferno. She swallowed.

Rayn stepped directly into the flames, and she went with him. All around them was fire. She felt nothing—even her feet, on the iron ramp, were not hot. Since this would likely be the only time in her life she stood inside a fire, she took a moment to look around.

Her mouth fell open. All around her, the spirits danced. They were red and orange and yellow, their elongated limbs twisting and gyrating to an unheard rhythm. Fascinated, she stared. Their dance was exuberant, and they sang in rushing, crackling voices. She could not make out the words. It was a language foreign to mortals.

“You see them?” asked Rayn.

“I do.”

He tugged at her arm. “They are a private people—we cannot stay.”

Looking through the flames, she saw the crowd waiting anxiously for them to emerge from the fire. All the people she loved were out there, save the one she loved most—and he was by her side. She stepped forward with Rayn, out of the fire and into her new life.