The Dragon of Trelian (6 page)

That was an interesting question. Meg had wondered about the same thing herself. Calen’s face was barely marked, just a few lines and small shapes under his left eye, but Serek had delicate black lines spiraling across both sides of his face, with tiny symbols and dots of color worked into the design at various points.

Serek shook his head. “No.” For the first time, Meg thought she detected the barest touch of emotion in his voice. “No, the marks are given for years of study, fields of expertise, and accomplishments of that nature, Sen Eva. A mage may serve many masters in his lifetime, but it is the work and the study of magic that defines his life and purpose. Those are the things that set him apart from others, and the reason why no mage may go unmarked — what he is capable of, not where he performs his duties.” He gestured at her with his knife. “If political appointments were important enough to be writ in flesh, madam, surely one as accomplished as you would bear some marks herself.”

“I — I see, yes. Thank you, Mage Serek. I had not fully understood. I can see why you feel so strongly about this. I hope I have not offended you with my questions.”

Serek suddenly seemed to realize he was pointing his knife at her. He lowered it and offered the hint of a smile, perhaps in apology. “It is a serious matter, Advisor. And one that all mages feel passionately about. But not one that non-mages are usually called upon to understand. I took no offense.”

He near-smiled again, and Sen Eva smiled back with far more conviction. Maybe she was hoping her example would inspire Serek to do it right next time; apparently no one had ever told him that a smile was supposed to include your eyes as well. But Serek’s eyes never seemed to change, no matter what the rest of his face was doing. They were blue, and bright, but there was no warmth in them that Meg could see. Sometimes you could get a good sense of people through their eyes — Calen’s eyes, for example, had been like open windows showing the slightest change in what he was thinking or feeling, constantly flashing in anger or widening in amazement — but Serek’s eyes gave nothing away. It was as if he were hidden behind a wall, able to see out but revealing nothing of his own thoughts or emotions.

Sen Eva turned away from the table to signal for more wine, and Serek suddenly and deliberately turned to stare back at Meg. She felt herself flush.
Caught again,
she thought ruefully, but this time she didn’t look away. This was too good a chance to miss.

“How are you settling in at the castle, Mage Serek?” she asked politely. It wasn’t the most dazzling of questions, to be sure, but it was the first acceptable thing that came to her mind. She could hardly ask the sorts of things she really wanted to know. “I hope it’s beginning to feel like home.”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness,” he answered formally. “My quarters are quite comfortable and adequate for my needs.”

Well,
that
was certainly revealing. Before he could turn away, she quickly spoke again. “I’m glad to hear it. Mage Fredrin seemed to like his quarters very much, and I know my parents hoped you would be as happy with them as he was.” He nodded, clearly doing his best to avoid prolonging the conversation. A question, she had to ask a question. She cast around desperately for something to ask. “How, um, how do they compare to your former residence? Where was that, again?”

Clumsy, but it did the job. “My last station was in Eldwinn, Your Highness. I had the pleasure of serving the governor of that province. One of your royal cousins, I believe. My residence in Eldwinn was also quite comfortable, though certainly not so grand as this castle.”

“Ah, yes. I hear Eldwinn is lovely, though I have not yet had the opportunity to visit there myself.” They sat for a moment, looking at each other. He just wasn’t going to give up anything willingly, was he? Finally she added, “And was Calen with you at Eldwinn as well?”

Serek raised his eyebrows at this, and she knew immediately that Calen hadn’t mentioned their meeting this afternoon. Well, of course not. She was being stupid again. He’d been sneaking around just as she had. Certainly he wouldn’t have told his master about it.

“I was not aware you had met my young apprentice, Your Highness.”
Now
he seemed interested. Meg cursed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to get Calen in trouble! “I hope he hasn’t been making a nuisance of himself.”

“Not at all,” she said, trying to think. “In fact, I met him only once, by chance, while he was on an errand.” That was true, technically. “He seemed very nice. I mean, polite. Not that we spent much time talking. He was eager to continue on his errand. Not that he said that directly, of course, but I could tell. He wasn’t rude or anything.” This was terrible. “I mean, we just exchanged a few words. He seemed very nice.”

Meg turned away and feigned a deep interest in the remains of her meal. She could feel Serek’s cold eyes staring at her, but he said no more. After a minute she heard Sen Eva ask him a question about his experience with medicinal herbs and, with great relief, felt his focus leave her.

Had she managed to accomplish anything this evening other than embarrassing herself? She hoped Wilem hadn’t overheard any of that conversational disaster. She glanced up at him and found him looking at her again. Her face flooded with heat. Again.
How red is my face by now? I wonder.
But this time she didn’t look away from him. If she was going to stare at people, she might as well be strong about it. With a mighty effort, she forced herself to smile. He smiled back.

Gods, but he had a nice smile.

At the end of dinner, Maerlie rose and invited everyone out to the royal gardens. It was a warm night, and the gardens were wonderful for walking off the effects of a heavy meal or just enjoying the night air. A few of the young men, who perhaps had had a bit too much wine with dinner, decided to attempt the enormous hedge maze, leading many of the others to speculate that a search party would need to be organized before the night was ended. Most of the remaining guests took to the stone benches nestled among the slender, elegant trees of the main garden or walked around admiring the manicured hedges trimmed in the shapes of various animals.

Meg was looking for Maerlie, to find out what sort of interesting things had happened at her end of the table, when she felt a light touch on her arm. She turned to find Wilem at her side.

“Wh — hello,” she said stupidly, grateful that she was standing far enough away from the lanterns that he probably couldn’t quite see her blushing this time. “I mean, good evening, Wilem. I’m surprised to see you on your own — I thought you’d be eager to rejoin the prince.”

“While I enjoy Prince Ryant’s company enormously, I do get to speak with him often, and there are some here tonight whose company I have not yet been able to enjoy nearly enough.” His voice was low and confident, and Meg felt her pulse racing at the sound of it. She knew she was being silly, but she just couldn’t help it. She couldn’t. Wilem was unbelievably charming, and handsome, and he had that
smile,
and here he was, talking to
her,
and not Morgan or Maerlie or the prince or his mother or any of the other important people he could be talking to.

He offered his arm, and she took it, feeling more than a little as though she were dreaming. They began strolling slowly along one of the tree-lined garden paths. For a while neither of them spoke, and the only sound, other than the muted conversations of other guests, was the night breeze rustling through the leaves. Meg looked down, enjoying the sight of their feet walking in step, side by side. For all her earlier staring, she suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with her eyes. She fought the urge to look up at Wilem. Somehow she felt sure he’d be looking right back at her, and without the table between them, the idea of his face so close to hers made her so nervous and excited it was almost frightening.

“So,” he said finally, “Princess Meglynne. What would you be doing at this moment had I not lured you away to walk with me?”

It was so hard to think; half of Meg’s mind was still shouting
He’s talking to me! He’s talking to me!
in giddy delirium. Meg willed her brain to silence and tried desperately to emulate Maerlie’s calm princess demeanor. “Nothing else quite so pleasant, I imagine,” she said finally. “Wandering the garden, making polite conversation, watching after Maurel to keep her out of trouble . . .”

“Does she require a great deal of watching?”

“Oh yes,” Meg said, laughing. “Please don’t misunderstand — she’s very sweet-natured, and rarely actually
intends
mischief. Yet somehow even with two or three older sisters keeping an eye on her, not to mention Nan Vera ever close at hand, she almost always manages to get into trouble. Very shortly we will probably hear shouts of alarm and run back to discover that she has set the gardens ablaze or lost the prince in the hedge maze or released four hundred minks among the guest suites.”

Wilem glanced sideways at her. “Are those actual examples of her past exploits?”

Meg shrugged. “Well, only the minks.”

“Four
hundred
?”

“A visiting merchant brought them to display before my mother. When Maurel discovered they were to be killed for their coats, she stole the key to their cages and released them into the castle. It took weeks to catch the last of them. The merchant was
not
pleased. Nor were the guests who found angry, frightened minks roaming the halls at night. Or hiding under the bedclothes.”

Wilem shook his head, chuckling.

“I’m not so sure you should be laughing,” Meg said, smiling herself. “There’s always a chance they missed one, you know. You
are
staying in the guest quarters, aren’t you?”

“I see I shall have to be on my guard. I had no idea Trelian was such a dangerous place.”

Meg sobered at that. “Unfortunately, that seems all too true of late. At least as far as the roads go. When the prince’s party hadn’t arrived by midafternoon, we all began to worry that something had happened.”

“It would take more than bandits and thieves to threaten a royal escort.”

“From what we’ve been hearing, there
are
more than bandits and thieves. Especially in the Hunterheart. Some of the stories have been quite frightening, and I’m sure there are worse that I’ve not been allowed to hear. You didn’t — you didn’t encounter anything unusual during your travels? Anything — unnatural?”

“Unnatural?” Wilem smiled gently. “I think you may have been listening to a few too many of those stories. It’s true that the roads are no longer safe for the lone traveler, or even small groups, and that roaming bands of thieves and other criminals have been attacking people in the Hunterheart. But although their
actions
may be described as unnatural, the bandits themselves are as natural as you or me. Any stories you hear of monsters in the forest are just that — stories.”

Meg didn’t say anything. Perhaps worried that he’d offended her, Wilem didn’t pursue the topic further. They walked in silence for a while, but Meg’s mind was anything but quiet. Was this a comfortable silence? Or an awkward silence? How did one tell these things? Should she say something? She should say something. But she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“How do you get along with your sisters?” Wilem asked, saving her from her stupid floundering. “Is it difficult, to be part of such a large family?”

“Are we such a large family? I didn’t think five children was so many, really. But either way, it’s all I’ve known. I don’t think it’s difficult. On the contrary, when anything happens, when I need to talk, or if I’m sad, there’s always someone there for me. Maerlie is the one I talk to most often, but Maurel is always good at lifting my spirits, and of course the baby is such a sweet little thing . . . I feel so lucky to have them.”
Am I babbling? I’m babbling.
“And you,” she asked, “do you have any siblings?”

“No,” he said, looking away suddenly. “Not anymore.” He paused. “I had a brother, Tymas, but he and my father were killed when I was very young.”

Meg was shocked. “Oh, Wilem. I’m so sorry. I — I never would have asked —”

He shook his head. “It’s all right. You couldn’t have known.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. She couldn’t think of what else to say. She’d always thought that children without siblings must be lonely sometimes, but to have a brother, then have him taken away. . . . She couldn’t imagine losing one of her sisters. It would tear her apart.

Wilem stopped walking and turned to face her, touching her hand. She looked up at him, startled.

“Please, don’t be sad, Meglynne. It was a long time ago. And it’s my own fault the conversation led to such a . . . difficult . . . topic.” One corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “I was trying too hard to think of something to say, I suppose. You know, you got so quiet, and I feared you were becoming bored with my company.”

Meg gave a snort of laughter before she could stop herself. “You feared
I
was getting bored! Me, with my endless babbling about nothing. . . .” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“You underestimate your own charms, I think,” he said quietly after a moment.

Meg’s heart was pounding so hard, she was sure he must hear it. She should say something, it was her turn to speak, but he was looking at her, looking down with those beautiful, sad, dark eyes, and she couldn’t find any words. They stood that way for several seconds, or maybe it was hours — Meg stopped trying to think of what to do or say and just looked at him. Could it be that under his beautiful polished exterior he was just as awkward and nervous as she was? She thought about Maerlie’s “proper princess” role and the roles Meg herself sometimes played depending on where she was or who she was talking to. Was there another Wilem underneath, more real and frightened and imperfect and all the more appealing for all those things?

He smiled at her again, sending new, ridiculous shivers running through her and driving the last of her thoughts out of her head. Meg let herself get lost in that smile. It was a nice kind of lost. She didn’t think about anything else for a long time.