He took her hand and bowed, his dark blond hair tumbling around his shoulders. When he straightened, he gave her a very direct look, making no attempt to hide his curiosity.
She did not allow her hand to rest in his, though she wanted to. She was concentrating very hard on being Casserah. “I am,” she said coolly. “Next you will tell me some tale of your great friendship with my sister.”
He almost laughed. “I would, except I sense such a comment might be unwelcome.”
“It’s practically the only conversation I’ve had all night.”
“Would you rather I reviled her? That’s not usually how I introduce myself to relatives of people I know, but I can try to accommodate.”
Kirra was amused; Casserah would have been, too. “Thank you, but I think I know her faults. Can we choose another subject?”
“I’m not much of a courtier,” he said. “Most of my topics tend to be grim. I’d happily hear about Danalustrous, though, if that’s something you’d like to talk about.”
Kirra smiled. Neatly done. Nothing else could have been better calculated to appeal to Casserah. Slowly they edged away from the tea table and slowly began to walk a circuit of the room. “Why, it is the most beautiful land in the world,” she said, her voice almost playful. “No place can compare.”
She spoke at length about the architecture of the Hall, the ancient history of the family, the primary trading ventures, the lifestyle contrast between lands along the coastline and estates in the interior farmland, and whatever else occurred to her. She knew she should ask about Merrenstow in return, but she didn’t want him to describe his own holdings, mention his wife, reveal his plans for having children and leading a life of domestic bliss.
“I can see you love it very much,” he said when she finished up. “I’m surprised your father could convince you to leave.”
“He offered me an interesting bargain.”
“I hear all bargains with Malcolm Danalustrous are interesting.”
She laughed. “I am just as surprised to see you outside the confines of Merrenstow,” she said. “But perhaps you have taken extra precautions to ensure your safety this time when you traveled.”
For a moment, anger molded his face, fierce enough to make her regret the careless words. But it seemed he was not directing his fury at her. “Yes, I half think the intent of my botched abduction was to make me fearful and uncertain,” he said. “And a man afraid is a useless man. I do not intend to be useless.”
Their perambulations had taken them to the shadow of a huge plant set on a tall marble base. Its leaves were just at hand height, so Kirra lifted her fingers and began toying with the greenery. “A man afraid is not always useless,” she said. “I have seen men accomplish great things even in the grip of fear. The trick is not to let fear stop you.”
He smiled. “The trick is not to let anything stop you.”
She slipped the wide waxy leaves through her fingers the way she would tease Donnal’s ears when he was in dog shape. Strange that she would think of Donnal at precisely this moment. “Nothing?” she repeated. “That’s a little ruthless. What lengths would you go to in order to achieve a goal?”
He seemed to consider. “It would depend upon the goal. If it was something I wanted, a personal challenge, a desire to fulfill, I would go to extraordinary lengths. I would be reckless at times, foolish at times, cunning when I could be. But I wouldn’t mortgage my future. I wouldn’t throw away everything I had or risk the lives and happiness of the people I cared about.” His brown eyes focused intently on her again. He had a habit of doing that, as if to check that she was paying absolute attention to whatever he had to say. “But if it were something I believed was right? Something to do with justice or morality or the fate of the kingdom itself? Nothing would stop me. I would jeopardize everything, everyone. I wouldn’t care what else I lost.”
Kirra dropped her hand and began her slow promenade again. Romar fell in step beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. She liked his specific height next to her own, the bulk and proportions of his body. He was perhaps five inches taller than Casserah, solid, hard-muscled. She was so used to Donnal at her side, so much slimmer, so sleek, almost exactly her height and weight.
“You speak like a passionate man,” she said in Casserah’s unruffled voice.
“You have passion of your own, though you reserve it for Danalustrous,” he said. “I know enough of your father to know there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his land. I’m guessing you’re cast in the same mold, though you seem so cool.”
She couldn’t help but smile at that. “It is easiest to care only about one thing,” she said. “That way, your choices are always already made.”
“Make sure you care about the right thing then,” he said.
She stopped right there in the middle of the floor, with no column or potted plant or other physical marker to give them a reason to come to a halt. “You’re speaking of Gillengaria,” she said.
He nodded. “Don’t choose Danalustrous over the kingdom,” he said.
“As you would not choose Merrenstow?”
He shook his head. “My first duty is to Amalie.”
Her voice was so soft it might be possible he couldn’t hear it. “Shouldn’t your first duty be to your family?”
But he did. “My wife understands,” he said. “I am a regent before I am a husband. At least as long as I am regent.”
“Were I your wife,” she said, unable to believe the words were coming from her mouth, “I would not be so pleased to be relegated to second place.”
“Were I your husband,” he retorted, “I could say the same thing.”
It was so unexpected that she laughed out loud. Several heads turned as people craned their necks to look in their direction. Kirra couldn’t keep her amusement in check. “We have provided the evening’s entertainment,” she said merrily. “No one else has said anything the least bit funny and now they will all be dying to know what we talked about.”
He gave her a little bow; she could tell by that he realized it was time to mingle a little more, not give quite so much attention to one unmarried woman. “We can answer quite honestly,” he said. “We talked about the land we love so well.”
JUST when it seemed possible the evening might never end, it was over. A clock somewhere chimed the midnight hour, and Eloise was caught yawning in someone’s face. “Forgive me!” she exclaimed. “I think it must be time for me to seek my bed.”
Thus released, the whole crowd headed slowly for the halls and began a general dissolution. Kirra, the first of her own group to step through the door, saw Justin still standing there very alertly, ready to leap into action. She did not acknowledge him and he did not give any sign that he knew her, but it wouldn’t have been strange if she’d stared. Half the other guests did, noting his sober face, his visible weaponry, and the gold lions splashed across his black sash. Then they leaned over to murmur to someone else in the crowd.
King’s Rider. Here to watch over the princess. Can you imagine that Baryn would not think she was safe even here?
But the display of power and wealth impressed them. Those were the two things the aristocracy valued most in the world.
Kirra could not resist peering over her shoulder once to see that Justin had fallen in step behind Amalie and Valri. Senneth, a few paces back, struggled to end a conversation with some lesser lord. Eventually they had thinned down to their own particular party as they climbed enough stairwells and turned down enough corridors to reach the wing where they were all housed. Kirra figured there might be a council of sorts in Amalie’s room, so she passed her own door and waited for the others outside of Amalie’s.
Tayse stood there on guard. He did not smile as they approached, merely gave a brief nod and said, “Let me check the room before you enter.”
Amalie stopped obediently in the hall. “I’m exhausted,” Valri said, continuing on toward her own door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Senneth sagged against the wall. “And to think we have dozens more nights like this ahead of us.” She sighed. “How will I endure it?”
Amalie gave a shy smile. “I had a good time,” she said. “Everyone was so nice to me.”
Senneth smiled back. “They would be fools not to be. Was there anyone in particular you enjoyed talking to?”
“Oh—everyone,” Amalie said.
Kirra hoped the princess’s conversation had been a little more lively when she was interacting with her subjects.
Tayse emerged. “The room is secure. Her maid said no one has come to the door except some servants with fuel and hot water.”
“Thank you,” Amalie said, and stepped past him into the room.
And screamed.
Kirra had never seen anyone move as fast as Tayse did, plunging back through the door. She and Senneth and Justin were hard on his heels. She could catch a babble of conversation—Amalie’s questions, the maid’s hysterical responses—but the first thing she noticed when she got inside was that there was no blood. Tayse hadn’t killed an intruder. Indeed, the Rider had dropped his sword hand and released all the menace from his pose. He was just staring at the bed.
Where a black dog was sitting on the counterpane, tongue hanging out, tail thumping against the covers.
“Donnal,” Tayse said, sheathing his sword. Behind her, Kirra heard Justin do the same. “A very good trick.”
“But how did he get in here?” Amalie asked, bewildered. The maid was still crying but no one was paying her much attention. Senneth crossed the room and sat beside Donnal, putting her arms around his neck. She was laughing. Amalie added, “Didn’t you just check the room?”
“I did and—”
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” The fresh voice belonged to Valri as she burst through the door. It was clear she was instantly puzzled by the casual atmosphere inside. “Why did she scream?”
Senneth spoke. “She was startled by the appearance of the dog. We didn’t realize he was in the room.”
Valri’s attention transferred to Donnal, but she was confused. “Whose dog is that?” She looked around and found Kirra. “Is it yours? It looks like the one who traveled with us from Ghosenhall. Why is it in Amalie’s room?”
Oh, Bright Mother burn me,
Kirra thought. “He’s not a dog, he’s a mystic. A shape-changer,” she said in a voice she hoped sounded reasonable. “We were trying to decide how safe the princess’s room was, and Donnal said he thought it could be breached by a shiftling. And he’s just proven that it can.”
Valri digested this quickly. She seemed completely unconcerned with the news about the shape-changer in their midst. “So how do we protect against an assault by a shiftling who means her harm?”
“I will stay in the room beside her,” Senneth said. “A Rider will stand guard outside the door. I don’t know that we can do more than that.” She glanced at Donnal. “I believe I would be able to overcome a shiftling, even in a desperate fight.”
Donnal barked at that and wagged his tail again. Kirra interpreted that as meaning
I wouldn’t be so sure of myself, serra,
but Senneth merely smiled. “And Donnal agrees with me,” she said smoothly.
Valri lifted her hands to her cheeks. It was the first time Kirra had ever seen her distraught. “This is so dangerous,” she said. “I wonder if we should go back to Ghosenhall.”
Amalie went over and put her arms around Valri’s shoulders. Amalie was just of medium height, but Valri was small next to her. Amalie might almost have been an adult comforting a child. “Nothing has happened, Valri,” she said. “No one has attacked me. They’re only trying to discover ways someone
could
hurt me. I’d rather Senneth found these ways first and considered how to protect me.”
“Keep Donnal in the princess’s room,” Tayse suggested. “He might sense any danger before it comes creeping through the windows.” He looked at Donnal. “Or the walls. Or wherever he came from.”
“He was probably in the room when you went in to look,” Kirra said. “Spider or something small hidden on the bedspread. He can change so fast you can’t follow the motions.”
Tayse glanced at her. “I remember.”
Amalie was gazing rather doubtfully at Donnal. “But—he’s really a man? You want him to sleep in my room with me?”